‘Our meeting with Titan.’ Terrence started.
‘Your meeting, with Titan.’
Terrence sighed, and put his hands on his hips. ‘You’re going to make this difficult.’
‘Yes.’ She let her face tell him everything. You won’t tell me what I deserve to know, why should I do anything for you?
‘He expects us both. He wants to meet you face to face.’
Sires hopped down from the bench. ‘Well, good luck with that.’ And sauntered off, shouting abuse at a soldier who was struggling to get his boot on.
Iliana hesitated. She had wanted to stay hidden, not wanting to answer any more questions from anyone. After last night, she thought she deserved at least one day of rest.
‘Lead the way,’ she said, reluctantly.
‘Terrence has got some explaining to do when he gets here!’ Bellowed who could only be Titan, from beyond the wall of the headquarters meeting room for operations. Iliana was informed en route he had pulled every senior official in for the session and the entire complex was now on shutdown, while repairs continued. His muffled voice still managed to carry an echo into the bare corridor, where cold fire burned in baskets nailed to the walls. Two faeries stood guard at the door, the symbol of the guard engraved into the chest of their golden armour and helmets.
Iliana passed them as double doors opened into a large, circular chamber. Faeries watched her silently enter.
On the war table in the middle, was an extensive map of the Otherworld, more detailed than the version on the back wall of Zoe’s library. Small figurines were clustered together in squared formations on it, advancing on an invisible enemy.
While repairs continued, it seemed Titan wasn’t taking his chances and had increased security on all checkpoints in the long avenue that led to the faeries’ residences and ultimately, the towers.
The afternoon had erupted into anarchy, as soldiers erected odd looking objects that Iliana assumed were weapons, and lizards scrambled with lieutenants on their backs.
Terrence calmly took a seat.
‘Titan, before you scream at me, remember you’re still obligated by your own charter to keep us safe no matter what the cost,’ replied Terrence coolly. ‘Think about it this way, if you’re so obsessed with loss right now, what do you think you stand to lose if you kick us out?’ His tone was silky smooth laced with confidence.
Iliana took a seat next to Terrence, her heart leapt when Titan’s eyes lit on her calculatedly, assessing her like so many other faeries in the complex had already done.
A muttering of voices ensued.
‘Silence! I will have silence here!’
It was like someone had pressed the mute button. Although Iliana didn’t blame them, Titan was the largest faerie she had seen so far. He was a stocky slab of green flesh on steroids in comparison to the rest.
‘What happened last night was of your bringing, whatever garbage you’ve dragged in behind you. I have still to see any collateral on your side Terrence, but it appears my guards’ lives are very much expendable for the temple’s business—’
‘—that is not true—’
‘—and furthermore, whatever it is you are up to’—a hard glance at Iliana —‘I honestly couldn’t give a shit. I have a ship to run here and I don’t know need agents sniffing around my headquarters. You were given a warning when you entered here and you need to honour it—and no more bloody magick! I was informed of what young Iliana’s magick has done to our folk, and I didn’t sleep a bloody wink last night. It’s unnatural and I don’t like it. No more of that shit either, d y’hear?’
Iliana blushed furiously.
‘Her magick saved your people.’
‘My gut tells me her magick brought the Xinger here. And she coincidentally shows up just as the thing is storming my headquarters. And am I also to understand that it was Cecile who authorised gate number eight to be collapsed?’
‘The Xinger was going to come through and Galfen’s plan was to—’
‘So she did authorise it?’
‘We were left with little choice, if it wasn’t for her your body count would have been higher!’
‘My body count is high enough. I’ve never had so many deaths in such a short space of time in my entire career. Do you know how long I’ve been in service? And of course, I find you dragged one of my generals, whose only task it is to guard one of the gates, to Earth and for what? To help retrieve a girl none has heard of? Not only have you brought horse crap to my doorstep Terrence, you’ve also rubbed it in the stepping mat. What on earth did you bring back with you?’
An audible silence.
Finally, he said, ‘This time, I fear I don’t know.’
‘Ach! Brilliant.’
Titan’s pudgy, fleshy hands slammed hard on the table, making it tremble.
‘What of the Roarax? Where is he?’ he rumbled.
All heads turned to Iliana.
Her mouth felt chalky, like she needed a drink. ‘He’s off hunting to the north, he’ll be back soon.’
‘Is he a threat to my folk?’ Titan’s faded purple eyes burned into Iliana’s. Before, she may have squirmed under that burning stare of seniority. Instead, she met his gaze coolly.
‘No, he would only attack in defence or if provoked. He will continue to hunt well beyond the limits of faerie HQ.’
A few faeries visibly relaxed in the room, and Iliana hadn’t realised they would be afraid of him. But, why wouldn’t they?
Roaraxes had an almighty roar that could throw people around like objects in a hurricane, and tear heads off them like they were stuffed animals. Iliana had heard a strange rumour that the rarer breeds possessed pyrokinesis, the ability to set things on fire through will of the mind. If that wasn’t enough, Clio had been the head of his pride and strong enough to outlast his own species. In that context, Iliana could understand considering the previous night's events, why some would be rattled by his presence. He certainly looked imposing, if nothing else.
Titan grudgingly accepted Iliana’s token of promise, his eyes lingered on her, as if trying to scan the information out of her.
He turned to the room, and banged a hammer against a large dish beside the wall that resounded like cracked glass.
‘Meeting adjourned,’ he growled. As some began filing out of the room, he added, ‘Apart from Terrence, he must stay.’
Iliana kept walking, she was relieved that her test with Titan was over, but she snuck a glance back. Terrence stood towering over the faeries who walked past him like children. Children, if it weren’t for their professional robes of rank, and the austere expressions on their faces.
Outside in the corridor someone grabbed her arm, yanked her around and hugged her hard.
Karen. Zelda’s aunt. She pressed herself against Iliana like a life ring.
Iliana was surprised to find she hugged her earnestly back, and a flood of relief released a tension in her body she didn’t know she had been carrying, or for how long. She let out a long breath, savouring the comfort it gave her, when she pulled back, she was surprised to see Karen’s eyes welling up.
‘We thought you dead,’ she whispered.
‘You know what happened to—’
She nodded quickly, ‘Yes,’ and looked away, ‘Terrence told me everything, Cecile…’
A surge of emotion knocked against Iliana like a tidal wave. Here was the first person Iliana could grieve with who had known Zelda besides Terrence.
She choked, could only nod, her throat too tight to speak.
They walked together around the complex for most of the afternoon, and Iliana got to see what HQ looked like from the ground as well as the air. They spoke of their journeys since parting at the arch at Sleepers Hill, a moment in time that seemed more alienated to Iliana as time went on.
‘I’m assuming you’re aware of what you did last night?’
After her conversation with Sires, Iliana’s mind had b
een ticking away at it, remembering the feeling of the earth beneath her feet where she drew power from, conducting it like a cable. ‘No,’ she said finally.
‘You drew down the moon. It’s advanced magick, beyond a Seer’s ability and wizards practising the art for decades have died trying it. I’ve never seen it done successfully before.’
Iliana chewed her words over thoughtfully, refraining from answering.
When Karen spied the sword at Iliana’s side, she amusedly asked did she know how to use it.
‘Ah, no.’ Iliana replied sheepishly. ‘I got a few lessons but I’m not the best.’
‘I bet you could be with enough practice.’
And so, in front of curious onlookers, Karen set up a corner for them to spar in the courtyard.
Iliana had been ‘creamed’, as someone from her Tae Kwon Do club would say, and after the tenth round of being bashed, Iliana relented.
Clio swooped into the courtyard (with a few soldiers running for cover), amongst cries of surprise and protest. The blood of a fresh kill glistened around his great jaws like bad lipstick. Iliana pulled herself onto him while Karen watched at a safe distance.
‘You never did tell Terrence where you found him,’ she shouted, not daring to draw near to the beast.
‘Where do you think I found him?’
Clio roared and helmets flew from heads.
Just can’t help yourself, can you? She teased.
You smell of sweat, I’ll bring you somewhere to wash.
Thanks, she replied dryly.
Clio flew her south to a gurgling stream in a small grove of trees, where the air was fragrant of damp wood and fresh on her face, like dew.
In the underbrush, chittering animals scattered away from Clio.
‘I think you woke the whole forest’, she said. Her voice sounded too loud here, and the memory of running from the slavers in a wood flashed in her mind.
The sky was flushed crimson and mandarin orange, it was so bright she thought it was about to overspill.
Iliana sat down on a boulder sprayed by the rush of the water, and let her feet dangle in it. The icy waters stabbed her skin like pine needles, but she always liked the jolting sensation that cold water gave her. It was like someone pressing the reset button on her brain.
I will go and catch dinner while you bathe.
‘I need to propose something radical to you.’
She felt him smile. Oh?
Terrence will not tell me where my family is, he won’t even help with rescuing Zelda. If he will not tell me, there is only one place in this world that will give me what I deserve to know.
She turned her eyes up at him, and again she felt that fairy-tale sensation that a critical part of her mocked. The fairy-tale of a girl, sitting by a stream with a sword and a great lion with wings looking down at her, meeting her gaze evenly. Perhaps it would be an artist’s dream to draw the scene, perhaps not.
Clio sat down on his haunches, ignoring the branches that cracked under his weight, and waited.
The Temple of Stars.
Clio yawned loudly and shook his mane. If that is where you must go. But are you sure?
What do you mean?
This temple may not have your answer or the answers you like.
Iliana’s heart sped up, it was a fear she had been harbouring, but hadn’t wanted to admit to herself. All the same, what is the point of all this I don’t get any answers? If I can’t understand why?
She had thought of asking Karen, but she knew that being a temple agent herself, she would withhold the information from her.
We’ll leave at dawn.
Good, I’ll find food.
With that settled, Clio reared his wings high, and in one swoop was gone. Iliana envied his simple attitude, his laid-back resolve.
Iliana turned to stare at her reflection in the river’s trickling surface, and thought of her mother at home, feeling in some way she was betraying her.
Chapter Eleven
07/06/4018
p850 Entry No. 52 (Code Status of facility: blue)
My hand trembles as I write this entry. Gretta is dead, I murdered her. Oh, what such relief to finally confess it! Even if it is only within the confines of this journal. I knew at some stage during our intensive trials that I would have to intervene in her deep involvement in my project - she was always too close, too personal. Perhaps a man would have been a more suitable assistant. I could sense at times her growing suspicion of me, her questions on the project were never ending and her usefulness ended when she threatened to expose what we had spawned in the hidden depths of lab C.
I bunched her limp body into a locker and froze momentarily to observe her slung head and how it lolled to the side. Death is an astounding force in our kind, how fleeting life can be. The realisation urges me on in this ultimate investment, pressing me forward until my fingers bleed at the wires, sweat pouring profusely down my face. With Gretta gone there is relief, and her absence has allowed me to channel all my focus now on our newborn machine.
A search is underway for Gretta, and now an enquiry has been lodged. I receive curious looks from my fellow scientists in the corridors. Gretta and I had always been visibly close; it won’t be long until they know.
None of this matters however, subject 12 is nearly ready for its final additive. And when the fluid runs through its steel veins our race will know prosperity again. My alien correspondent is unaware of course of the purpose of my android, and they will never be privy to it until it’s too late. My world colonizer will hark the unfortunate ending of one race, but also the renewal of one that is more intelligent, advanced and deserves to thrive to the betterment of all life in our universe.
The only contribution as far as I’m concerned Gretta ever made to subject 12 was its name - Xian.
- M.B
I have barricaded myself into lab C, but they’ve taken to the subterranean levels now to dig out from under. No matter.
So close now...it’s eyelids flutter and light shines through the slits. Xian, Xian, Xian…
- Last known entry of Malem Beryl, aka The Alchemist.
T
he city had been reduced to nihilism. Piles of rubble littered the lower tiers and left many parts of the city in an indescribable state. Once the dead began thronging in their numbers anarchy broke out, and even rangers were going missing only to be spotted days later by their comrades shuffling around as one of them. Their identity was lost amidst the swarm of undead, and the stench of decay stung the air as they continued to push through each barrier the Watch had set down to contain them.
Many of the Privileged had already made good use of the escape tunnels rooted deep in the mountain. They had departed with all their servants and with as many valuables as they could carry.
From the palace windows Seamus could see tributaries of smoke streaming out from below, more streams joining them everyday. The fires had been most difficult to control as particular areas were too dangerous to venture such was the skyrocketing number of undead. Agents informed that infection was possible from physical contact with them, and the effects were irreversible. Not even the White Lip had caused such a pandemic to spread so rapidly.
Eerily enough, the protests continued on, as though the citizens didn’t recognise the city falling around them. Attempts to infiltrate and track the identities of those organising had been dashed, too many agents were showing up dead or not at all.
An emergency meeting had been called eventually but Seamus received word the cabinet ministers could not be reached, had disappeared or something worse had befallen them. The arms he needed to guide the city out of anarchy had been cut off. Without the cabinet ministers, it was difficult to issue timely orders, and he was finding himself dealing with new faces in one of the biggest crises the city had ever faced.
He tried contacting Florin several times but the man could not be found either. Seamus recalled him fending off the
undead in the square and feared him gone like so many others.
A deep part of Seamus always knew he was being played, but he never realised the true extent of it. And now he was out of options. He had spent all his time at the palace gate, consulting with the highest-ranking officers in the city, but the force of the crawling undead had over spilled into the other tiers and was progressing like wildfire to the top. Generals had staged coordinated pushbacks with some success, but each time it happened the counter shove was much harder. The army and the Watch would soon be overwhelmed and he could see it in the faces of those around him that it was hopeless. There was simply too many of them too quick, and efforts to contain the infection had been futile.
The day eventually came when the palace gate was taken. Seamus was rushed by his guard through the labyrinthine corridors by his guard, their main objective to secure him in his chambers. The traps in the corridors were set each time they exited.
‘Sir! I’ve been telling you for days to take to the tunnels!’ Jamel shouted angrily. Seamus could tell he was pissed, he commanded a stern gaze that could set anything on fire.
‘Jamel, I’m king for goddesses’ sake! What kind of leader would I be to flee when the city is burning to the ground! I’ve held them off for as long as I can, but whatever happens, I’m not running like the Privileged!’
Jamel gave him a side look. ‘Only the poor call them that, sir.’
‘Damn with the poor’s vocabulary! And stop calling me sir, since we’re at the end of the game now I think we can drop the formalities.’
‘You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands. Sir.’
Seamus sighed. ‘Could you please not joke about death, Jamel?’
‘Aye, sir.’
The guard turned sharply in unison into Seamus’s chambers and shut the doors. A curtain pole was used to barricade the doors but the king wondered what the point was. He walked over to an embellished, ornately decorated chest and opened it, inside was a crossbow that Cecile had given to him aeons ago. Arrows sat in a barrel and could rotate six arrows as they were shot, allowing the user minimal time between each shot.
Return of the Starchild (The Divine Inheritance Series Book 1) Page 24