Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales)

by Freda Warrington

Oliver shrugged. “All Aetherials have unique talents. He is able to send out his Otherworld form as a kind of astral projection, I believe. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

  Her insides tightened. She glanced around and saw Slahvin standing in the doorway.

  Over his human shape hung his sinister translucent form; eel-like, black and darkest red, sheened with scales that leaked fire. She caught the dreary, metallic stink of ash … felt herself shrink from the memory of his attack in the museum, his circling presence in Frances’s house, and Mist’s desperate fight with him in the hotel …

  There was an ambiguous quality to Aurata, Oliver, even Rufus. Any of them might contain a hidden, decent side. Slahvin, though, seemed to be nothing but pure malevolence. So, he’d once served Veropardus, Keeper of the Felixatus, and here he still was. That showed loyalty, but to what? She could hardly bear to stay in his presence.

  Was this a trap? Slahvin and Oliver could easily hold her like pincers to interrogate the truth out of her. Unimportant people who knew too much were disposable. Like Fela, like Daniel.

  “Everything okay, boss?” Slahvin asked smoothly.

  “Excellent,” said Oliver. “Miss Silverwood is interested in the workings of the Felixatus, although I’m sure it’s as dull as watching someone trying to put an old clock back together. Oh—and she would like to ask you a question.”

  “Oh, would she?” Slahvin gave her an impassive yet knowing look. Spiders of ice ran over her skin.

  “No,” she said, with a huge struggle to keep terror out of her voice. “No, not at all, it’s nothing. I mustn’t take up any more of your time. Excuse me, I should go back to bed.”

  As if negotiating rattlesnakes, she backed away from Oliver, squeezed past Slahvin and fled. To her complete amazement, they let her go. Behind her, she heard what sounded like faint, mocking laughter.

  * * *

  She was first back to the bedroom and, although she tried to stay awake, fell asleep until long past sunrise. She awoke to find herself alone, but Mist’s warmth was on the sheets, and she could hear the shower running.

  “Well?” she said, peeling herself off the bed as he reappeared, toweling his hair. Naked, he was like a sculpture, so beautiful that she couldn’t keep herself from staring and smiling. “How did things go with your brother?”

  “We may have a problem.” He sat on the end of the bed. His eyes were softly grey and distant.

  “Only one?”

  “Yesterday, Aurata offered to help us against Albin, on condition that we help her. I used to think she was the most down-to-earth of us. Passionate and forceful, but sensible.”

  “If you say so. I was in awe of her, but you know her better than I do.”

  “Do I, though? According to Rufus, her scheme to create new portals is going to rip the Earth apart.”

  He recounted his talk with Rufus while she sat hugging her knees, wondering.

  “Mist, I don’t know what to say. So either we help and risk her destroying the world, or we don’t help and leave our friends to Albin’s mercy? This is … god, this is a nightmare.”

  “I have to talk to her.”

  “How? Won’t it make things more difficult, if she knows Rufus has betrayed her? I know you don’t want to think ill of her, but, Mist, there’s something really bad here. As I keep pointing out, Oliver effectively abducted Daniel, and sent Slahvin to rob us. Aurata approved all that. This is more than her supporters being overzealous. They’re not our friends. They won’t let us interfere with Aurata’s plan. There’s a big clue in the fact that her offer to join forces against Albin was conditional. If she cared, she’d have said, ‘Yes, of course we’ll help you, right now.’ No strings attached. Like Rosie, Sam and Luc did. And they didn’t even know us. She’s your sister.”

  Mist let go of a heavy breath. “I know. I’m trying to understand her.”

  “They’re not going to let us go.”

  His gaze came back into focus on her, grave. “How are you so sure?”

  She told him about her encounter with Oliver. He gripped her hand.

  “Stevie, you shouldn’t have risked talking to him. I’m not blind, I know there’s danger here. I’ll speak to Aurata. In the hierarchy of people she will listen to, surely she wouldn’t set a subordinate like Oliver above me?”

  “You’d better be right.” She let out a soft groan. “I hate to bring this up again, but in my Fela days, she … Aurata was a restless sleeper, muttering about being trapped and breaking through barriers. So, perhaps not as cool as she appeared on the surface.”

  “But she didn’t tell you the reason?”

  Stevie shook her head. “It wasn’t my place to ask. But it all adds weight to the idea that she was making dangerous plans, plotting with Veropardus, even while your parents were still in power. I’m embarrassed talking about this, because of … the, er, fact that she and Fela … But that was Fela, not me.”

  “You thought I’d be jealous?”

  Stevie frowned. “I should hope so, at least a little bit. Aren’t you?”

  “That depends. Could she do this?” He slid his arms around her and touched his lips lightly all over her face, working his way to her mouth and kissing her with tender, playful hunger until she dissolved.

  “Well, that’s not enough to decide,” she gasped, when he paused for breath. “Continue. In order to make a full and fair assessment, I need a demonstration of all your skills.”

  * * *

  Aurata had arranged an intimate breakfast on an outside deck with a spectacular view of the canyon. There was a small table with four chairs; on the table was fresh orange juice, eggs and ham, coffee and croissants.

  Looking southwards, Stevie saw a drift of steam that reminded her of the red buddhas, a sight to send echoes of sexual bliss through her. She felt her face flush and hoped no one noticed. Not that it was any secret. Mist’s subtly affectionate body language pleased her, but also reminded her that, however hard he tried, he was not very good at acting aloof.

  Stevie was surprised to be included at breakfast—she’d assumed the three siblings would want to meet alone—but Mist had refused to leave her out. Aurata was relaxed, leaning back in her chair with her robe falling open to reveal a long, lightly suntanned leg. Rufus looked tired and restless, his eyes very bright.

  “So you both managed to make it through the night alive,” she remarked to her brothers. “Is this a truce?”

  “Apparently,” Rufus said with a thin smile.

  “I can’t forget the past,” said Mist. “It’s not my place to forgive, because it wasn’t just me he hurt. He knows that. But yes, a sort of truce. It’s the best we can do.”

  “He would appreciate if you didn’t refer to him in the third person,” Rufus retorted.

  “You must have had quite a talk,” said Aurata, pouring coffee into Stevie’s cup. “So, Mist, what’s Rufus been saying about me?”

  Both men went still, caught in a freeze-frame. Stevie held her breath.

  “Nothing,” said Mist. “Well, apart from gushing admiration for your scientific achievements. And digging people out of earthquakes. All impressive stuff.”

  “Really?”

  “No, he’s lying to cover for me.” Rufus fixed his restless eyes on his sister. “I said all that, yes, but I also told him that you’re intending to blast chasms in the Earth’s crust through to the Otherworld, which will turn both realms to a molten blob, and that you don’t care and won’t listen to me, because you’ve gone power-crazy. Or just plain crazy.”

  Aurata put down the piece of croissant she was buttering. “I see.”

  Mist said calmly, “I didn’t believe him. I don’t know what to believe.”

  “It’s all right.” Aurata sat back in her chair, one bare foot tapping the air. “I’m not surprised. Disappointed, of course, that Rufus keeps arguing with me, but that’s my fault for not explaining properly.”

  “Your explanation was fine,” said Rufus. “It’s the consequences
I’m worried about. But with my age-old record of lying and mischief—who’s going to listen to me?”

  Aurata shrugged. “It’s natural to have doubts, Rufe, but I’d prefer that you don’t go spilling them behind my back. Mist, you’re the rational one, able to balance different viewpoints. You should be a Spiral Court judge. What do you think?”

  “Tell me the options,” he said, resting one hand on the back of Stevie’s chair. “And the potential consequences.”

  “The Earth’s boundaries are fascinating places,” said Aurata, “where continental plates grind against each other, and molten heat leaks out—the elemental heat of Qesoth that first created us. Human settlements formed along those cracks because they gave underground water in the desert, rare minerals, all kinds of riches. But the greatest barriers of all are invisible. The walls that separate Earth and Spiral used to be porous. Aetherials could wander freely in and out … but by the time of the Felynx, that had begun to change. We were exiles. The existence of portals was hidden from us, and that was wrong. Rufus, do you disagree with anything I’ve said?”

  “Not so far, but…”

  “In the earliest days, the separation was no more than rippling air, like the Dusklands. Then like a web, more solid but full of holes. Later—through the activities of Aetherials changing the Spiral, and other forces changing the Earth—the boundaries became denser, riddled with ways through like a rabbit warren. And later still, that barrier was made solid and all portals placed under strict control by the creation of the Great Gates. And that was wrong.”

  “It was done for protection of both realms,” Mist put in.

  “Yes, like the Iron Curtain, or those ugly walls that snake through Israel and Northern Ireland,” Aurata said sharply. “Hostile, aggressive, the antithesis of freedom. I intend to break the barriers down.”

  “Like the collapse of the Berlin Wall?” said Stevie.

  Rufus muttered, “Only rather more drastic.”

  “I’m talking about freedom.” Aurata’s demeanor was calm and open. Convincing. “Aetherials shouldn’t be separated into Vaethyr and Aelyr, according to which side we live on. We’re all one folk. We should be free to wander wherever we please. Others talk about it, but I’m actually going to do something.”

  “Are you sure it’s possible?” asked Mist.

  She pointed at the landscape. “Without detailing the entire geology of the West Coast, thermal areas indicate places where the Earth’s crust is thin. Jigsaw Canyon has faults running beneath. It’s hardly the San Andreas Fault, but that doesn’t matter. Any thin place would do, but I choose this one because Azantios once stood here. We’ll weave a tenfold web to strain the fabric of reality to its limit. The energy of the Felixatus will do the rest.”

  “Simple!” Rufus exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air to describe a fountain. “The Earth explodes like a giant abscess that makes the supervolcano under Yellowstone Park look like a birthday candle. Earth melts, the Spiral vaporizes.”

  “Rufus has been watching too many disaster movies,” Aurata said sweetly.

  “What if he’s right, though?” Stevie said.

  “There might be some damage,” she acceded. “For example, if the Yellowstone caldera went up, it would take out most of the States, and the potential domino effect would be quite spectacular.” Aurata closed her eyes for a moment, like a cat basking in the sun. “But it won’t happen. Any geological disruption would be mere fallout. It will settle.”

  “Settle?” said Mist. “You mean, on an Aetherial timescale? Over hundreds or thousands of years, during which all life on Earth would be wiped out?”

  “Except for the cockroaches,” said Rufus. “It’ll be just us and the cockroaches. Lovely.”

  Aurata’s eyes narrowed minimally. “Your predictions of catastrophe are a distraction. This change is going to happen, whether you like it or not. I’d truly appreciate your support. I insist on it.”

  “I’d gladly give it, if this didn’t sound so monumentally dangerous. Aurata, are you sure you’re right?”

  “Everything’s converged here,” she said easily. “The survivors of the ancient Felynx are here, on the site of Azantios. All of you, and the missing parts of the Felixatus. We even have our prophet, Daniel.”

  Again Stevie and Mist gave each other a sidelong glance. Stevie said, “And what about Lord Albin of Sibeyla?”

  Aurata’s eyebrows rose into a delicate arch. “What about him?”

  “Didn’t Mist tell you how powerful he is? The friends of ours he’s holding captive—one of them is the Gatekeeper himself, Lucas Fox. You said you’d help us rescue them—and I believe you’re the only one who can, if you’re as powerful as Rufus says—but how, if melting the barriers is going to cause so much disruption?”

  Rufus sat forward, fiercely interested. “Albin, that ice-cold bastard? He had me tried for my so-called crimes without a shred of evidence. He failed. Now he must really hate me. Oh, count me in.”

  “Thank you,” Stevie said with a soundless laugh, not knowing how to take an offer of help from Rufus.

  Aurata took a minute to reply. Her hesitation stirred Stevie’s worst fears; that she didn’t care, that her promises were hollow. “Oh, Albin no doubt thinks he’s the most dangerous creature ever to walk the Spiral, but he won’t be a problem. He knows nothing of my plans. He’ll be dust before he even sees me coming.”

  “Er … well, that’s reassuring,” said Stevie, “I think. But our friends?”

  Aurata turned her golden gaze to her. “Stevie, I’ll do my best, of course. That’s the only promise I can make. I don’t know where they are, or what he’s done to them. I can’t make them my priority.”

  “Well, try.” There was steel in Mist’s voice. “One of them is the Gatekeeper.”

  “A bit careless of him to leave his post, wasn’t it?”

  “Lucas was helping us to get here! And holding him hostage makes it that much easier for Albin to seal all the Gates. He wants separation, as badly as you want freedom.”

  Aurata gave a quiet sigh. “And as I said, Albin stands no chance against me. He can freeze all the portals shut, but fire melts ice every time.”

  Mist said, “Aurata, I’d hoped you might see the sense of a middle path. Help us against Albin. Create a new Felynx realm, if that’s what you want. But not at such massive cost to Vaeth.”

  With a soft growl, Aurata left her chair and leaned back against the balustrade. “Mist, don’t give me moderation. You don’t get it, do you? Must I spell it out?”

  She changed form. Where she stood there was now a shape as bright as the sun, as tall as a house, golden wings flaring. “If Vaeth and the Spiral burn, it doesn’t matter! We will become fire elementals, our true selves, the chosen of Qesoth!”

  Aurata reappeared. A greenish-black afterimage obscured Stevie’s vision. Rufus and Mist were both on their feet. Regally, Aurata leaned her head back and added, “Those of us who are strong enough to change will survive. The rest don’t matter. For goodness’ sake, what are you staring at? Have you never seen an Aelyr transformation before? You can all do the same!”

  “You’ve singed the balcony,” said Rufus.

  “My point is that I need you to stop flapping about like scared mortals and think on a Felynx scale. You may as well support me, because it’s too late for anyone to stop my plan.”

  Stevie said shakily, “Then why kidnap Daniel?”

  “We didn’t ‘kidnap’ him. He was persuaded. My dear, he was leaking our secrets like a sieve. Fortunately we curbed him in time. You know, it’s very strange; he’s human, yet he claims he’s had these visions for years.” Aurata came towards Stevie with a warm yet intimidating smile. “Ever since he first met you.”

  “I can’t explain that,” she said, not quite truthfully.

  “He’s sensitive, a naemur. He seems to absorb a flood of visions from anything Felynx. And it began, interestingly, when he first met you.”

  “He might have picked
up the visions from a lamppost, for all I understood about it.” Stevie was trying to stay calm. Mist’s hand rested on her back, steadying her. “If you’re suggesting I’m some kind of Aetherial spy, that’s absolutely not true.”

  “But you are Aetherial.”

  “I’m no one. Vaethyr. Practically human.”

  “Stevie, don’t look so worried. I know it’s not your fault. It’s been fascinating, actually.” Aurata sat down and rested her elbows on the table, looking squarely at her. “Enlightening. Daniel’s painted events from the past, and things that haven’t yet happened—as if he reads my mind. His paintings have given me ideas, so the grand plan all feeds around in a circle. And yet it all began with you.”

  She leaned forward and reached out to touch Stevie’s cheek with hot fingertips. “I know who you are. And you know me, Fela.”

  * * *

  Stevie left the deck, hurried inside, leaving Aurata, Rufus and Mist behind. She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. What would happen, now that everyone knew she’d been Fela? If Aurata knew, it followed that Oliver did too, and Slahvin. They must have known from the start, looking down on her with pity and mockery.

  Not Felynx, but mere Tashralyr, a creature of the marshes, a curiosity, a decoration.

  An Aetherial whose unexplained death had triggered the destruction of Azantios.

  She didn’t want even Mist near her, because—for all he tried to separate himself—he was still part of the enchanted triumvirate. The more time he spent with Aurata, the more he was drawn under her spell. They might argue among themselves, but the Ephenaestus siblings were still a clique from which she was excluded.

  She needed to see Daniel. Patrick, too. There must be someone else who could help her find a way back to Luc, Sam and Rosie, to rescue them or at least assuage her guilt by sharing their fate. She ran down broad flights of stairs to the lower floor.

  She heard voices in the studio. Pushing open the door—a big, heavy slab of red wood with carved panels—she saw that Daniel was there. So, to her dismay, was Oliver. He stood in the middle of the room, arms folded over his stocky torso, while Daniel paced about looking thinner than ever, sweat trickling down his pallid face.