by S. M. Beiko
Roan brought the blade smashing down in a wide arc, and Eli gracefully sidestepped, his wings lifting and cracking as he spun, half-knocking Roan out of step. She didn’t make a sound, but her grin was gone. One darting glance at Eli’s feet, and she neatly dodged the next striking blow of his talons. Feint, repost, recover — they wove in and out, gaining ground then missing. Saskia was having a hard time keeping up as they spun faster.
The wind had risen.
“They’re dancing!” Baskar cried as Saskia dove, grabbing hold of Ryk and pulling the diminished god out of the path of the flames — because they’d come up in response to Eli’s power ripping the grove up from under them.
“They’re going to take the underworld down with them, whatever they’re doing,” Ryk bellowed as Saskia helped the god back to her feet. She clasped the Sapphire at her shoulder as if it caused her great pain. The crack running through it was as a wound. Saskia met the sea empress’s eyes, fathomless as a glacial bay. “She said she killed Deon.”
Saskia bit her tongue and looked to the battle happening inches from them. How could a god be asking Saskia of all people for reassurance? “I don’t think so. She couldn’t have done that. Eli has a plan.” She hoped. She prayed.
The wind fell, Roan and Eli on opposite sides of the clearing. One of Eli’s wings hung off-kilter, but his stance was wide, unyielding, hip pointed as if he was readying to swoop back in at the slightest indication from his dance partner. Roan, for her part, held the garnet blade point-forward, two-handed, and it was shaking.
Her hair was the fire. Her eyes were bright with rage. “Come on,” she goaded him. “Or is that it, then?”
Eli took a step.
Roan charged him.
She was a comet, he was a hurricane. They were about to collide.
“Saskia!” Baskar yelped, and Ryk stood swiftly, pulling both Saskia and Baskar into her powerful arms as she shielded them. The wood was filled with a torrent of fire, and Saskia forgot to fill her lungs.
Just as she felt the heat on her cheek, the wind came back like a hand, snatched it up, and the hurricane was filled with hot blazing flame, a vicious storm cell. In the centre of it, Eli and Roan held breakingly fast to each other’s hands, locked, the ground beneath them shuddering. The garnet blade was too far away on the ground for Roan to reach.
“Now, little human!” Ryk cried, picking Saskia up and whirling her towards the spinning torrent of fire. The Onyx in her hand strobed a black flare, and she heard the Moonstone and the Opal calling it.
“No!” Roan struggled, the flame consuming her, bigger than this world, and eating up Eli’s black feathers. As Saskia approached, an arm shielding her eyes, she saw Roan’s face go from anger to anguish, the light of the inferno sputtering.
When Roan looked directly into Eli’s eyes, she seemed to get a hundred years younger in her desperation. “Please, Eli. If you love me, you won’t.”
The wall of fire guttered, and Saskia leapt over it, the darkness cocooning her. She watched as Eli’s hands slipped up to either side of Roan’s face, and the wind tangled with the crackling fire still left. His back was being burnt for his hesitation.
“I’m doing this because I love you, you idiot,” he said.
Then Saskia opened her palm, and the Onyx reached for Roan at the same time the Moonstone reached for the Opal.
* * *
Saskia was only a conduit. They all were. And she was an observer in what was happening to Roan and Eli now, as she had been in a sea cave on Skye, where they’d made a promise to each other as friends. As more than that. Even now, all Saskia could do was watch and hope this story had the end it deserved.
They were fighting still. Eli was a body of shuddering breezes, and Roan was a lick of flames. Fighting or dancing, it was hard to tell. They twined around each other. They struggled. They came together.
“It feels safer in the dark,” Roan said. “We could be safe here, together.”
A sigh of every wind current. Then something bright flickered beyond the fire, beyond the wind. A golden tether fastening one to the other.
“I know we could,” Eli said. “But refusing to give in is what I always admired about you.”
Everything went still. Saskia held her breath.
Then, from the dark, there was another Roan, one who looked more like the one Saskia recognized, and she was growing bigger than both of them and screaming.
“You think grief will save you? Save her?” this Roan yelled, smashing into Eli like a battering ram. “I won’t let it! I won’t let you!”
Still Eli held onto the fire, held onto Roan, who shook her head. The tether around them was firm.
“It doesn’t matter what you want,” Eli said, flinching with every blow he took. But the fire that was Roan was a part of him, and they were one thing. “It matters what Roan wants.”
Roan, a concentrated flame, broke away towards the version of her that had been trying to rip them apart. Dark Roan stepped back, but the Roan that was the fire put her flaming arms out and embraced the dark, shrieking, terrible core of her fear, and took it into herself.
The Onyx perceived that this was the moment, wrapped around them all, and pulled.
* * *
Saskia and the others woke in the grass of the underworld. Baskar, for all their lack of a body, held onto her, and Saskia felt the protection. But Baskar wasn’t looking at her. She sat up and followed their gaze.
Eli was holding Roan. She was crying. He held her very tightly. But she was okay, whatever that meant. Saskia heard “I’m sorry, I’m sorry . . .” Eli just kept holding onto her, his broken wings draped around and over her sobbing back.
There was a warmth behind Saskia, and she turned to that next.
Standing beside Ryk was another god, of a height with her, with nine tails shimmering behind, a great cloak of flaming fur. Each god had a hand on the other’s shoulders. They really did look like twins, somehow, despite their opposite elements. Despite that they had been separate for who knew how long. They looked into each other’s eyes, and beneath Deon’s great fox-helm, she smiled.
Everyone, even gods, needed someone to hold onto. Saskia slumped down with exhaustion, and Baskar held onto her gladly.
* * *
Roan and Eli sat shoulder to shoulder on a bluff away from the others. Deadland night had fallen. Above, the unmoving stars framed the Roost. Just ahead was the Heartwood. Neither of them had ever been this close to it before.
All in all, they were heavy with saying goodbye to this place.
“I remember lots of things,” Roan said. “Too much. I remember you always trying your best with me. Even up till now. Though you were still kind of a dick about it.”
Eli snorted. “I like to be consistent.”
She touched his beard. “You need a shave.”
He put his palm on top of her close-shorn head. “You don’t.”
She took his hand in hers, and he laid his other over it, clasping. “I remember that we thought we were some kind of heroes, always doing the right thing. Or trying to. I didn’t want to imagine we couldn’t be heroes. Or that we’d let everyone down.”
“I thought we had, too, to be fair,” he told her. Something screeched in the distance. Something roared. “But it wasn’t just you. We became a part of this place. We needed it. Letting go is always hard. So is doing the right thing.”
She looked up at him, and he tipped his chin down. Eli ran a finger over the knotted scar on her face. “At least we didn’t let go of each other.”
“I guess I can’t get rid of you that easily,” she said wryly. They looked back out into the wilds. “It’s not just the living depending on us. It’s the dead, too.”
Eli turned partway to look down the bluff behind them, where the gods rested, speaking low, maybe praying to Ancient, maybe trying to reconcile themselves. Near them
, the shade Baskar held Saskia, who had stripped herself mightily after removing the Opal from Roan. She’d have to do the same, too, with the Moonstone. Later, the Emerald. He hoped it wouldn’t break her.
“The Moth Queen sent down an emissary to make sure the dead would be safe,” he said, nodding in Saskia’s direction.
Roan’s shoulders dropped. “We protect her then. To the end.”
“To the end,” Eli repeated. They surveyed their kingdoms. It was time to go home.
These Roots Go Deep
During the stalemate, Phae and Natti walked between their own fighters, the former healing who she could, the latter trying to encourage those who were unsure if they were going to come out the other end of this or not.
None of them was sure, but they had to be prepared.
“We can’t stay down here forever,” Phae had said, meaning the underground mall that once had been City Place, but now had become a post-fight stronghold. The ETG had tried to take it, and the connected networks of tunnels and skywalks all over the downtown core, but the Denizens had been holding it. They’d been holding the rest of the city, too, this past year. And now that the Darkling Moon was tracking ever closer to the sun, they wanted to show the world they would fight until it was over.
The ETG had said similar. Their ambitious fire-everything-we-have-at-it, aptly called Project Annihilate, was also winding up. Phae felt the Denizens were just on standby, because she was convinced it wouldn’t work.
“We’ll have to make ourselves allies soon enough.” Natti had been the one to suggest it, bitter though she’d been. Both sides had suffered losses, had dug their heels in. But what would the point of fighting be when they couldn’t do a thing about the moon hanging over them like a guillotine?
They had been sitting in the abandoned food court. Phae was fairly out of it from healing so many at once. Her powers weren’t limitless. None of theirs were.
Phae asked, “A week, the reports said?”
Natti nodded. “They might be lying, though. It might be even sooner.”
“Well, when they fire their missiles, and they see they’re wrong, then we can talk. They won’t listen to us otherwise. They have to stare failure in the face like we did.”
Natti grimaced. What a waste. “And Saskia?”
Phae lifted her eyes, then shook her head. “There’s been no more signal from anywhere. I don’t know if . . .”
Natti put her hand over Phae’s. It didn’t need to be said.
“We’ll do what we can,” Natti said. It’d be something, if not enough.
* * *
When the group came to the Heartwood, there was no one left to stop them.
“I can feel the Emerald inside,” Deon said. “Heen is there.” She turned to the humans. “And your friend.”
Saskia had rested as much as she could, and she knew it still wouldn’t be enough. The tree was enormous, as wide as One Evergreen, and this close they saw it shifting, the cords throbbing with life as it grew moment by moment. It made her think of the Apex inverted; the impulse to turn around was sudden and tempting.
The ground rumbled. The roots before them were pulling free of the soil, curling backward on the tree’s own folds. A curtain. A doorway. They were being invited inside.
No one moved to go in. Saskia looked at them all, because they were looking at her. Even the gods.
“Are we sure this is the way?” Baskar asked, standing beside Saskia in a shell body made from things they had gathered on the journey.
“Not at all,” Roan sighed. “We’re never sure about anything. We just, sort of . . . do it.”
Eli folded his arms, his wings shifting as he half-shrugged. “Not like it hasn’t worked out for us.”
Ryk had her harpoon at the ready. Deon held the garnet blade. They walked together into the Heartwood, and the other four could do no more than follow.
The roots closed behind them. Saskia should have seen that coming.
Roan held up her hand, and the flame was still there in the palm. In the ring of the light, she seemed glad.
Deon lit a similar flame, looking down upon Roan curiously. “You were a good Paramount,” the god said, and Roan looked startled.
Then Deon’s whole body was fire, and she walked ahead into the darkness, which dipped downward, and led the way.
Saskia drew up beside Roan. “Are you okay?”
“Define okay,” she snorted. Then she shrugged; for all that she had outwardly aged, she seemed looser, like a great tension had been released. “I’m . . . myself. I’m what I should have been.” She nudged Saskia with her elbow. “What about you? You’ve had to put up with and take on everyone’s garbage. What’s going on in your head?”
Saskia didn’t rightly know and couldn’t answer. She just focused on keeping her legs under her, the farther they went down. “I’ll be better when this is done. Ancient will finish it. Then we can go home.”
Baskar nodded beside Saskia, holding her hand and swinging it with a blithe comfort that caught Roan’s attention. She smiled, as though reliving some memory twigged by the gesture, but then her face twisted abruptly. “I hope there’s a home to go back to,” she muttered.
“Don’t.” Eli was on her other side. “There’s no time left for regret.”
Roan composed herself with a shake of her head. “You’re next, you know. You ready to be yourself again?”
Eli stopped, looking down at the Moonstone, in the halo of Deon’s light, which had also halted nearby. “We should do it now,” he said. “Bring Phyr back. Then we might have a better chance of releasing Heen, too.”
Roan looked skeptical, glancing down at Saskia. “That’s a lot to put on one person.”
“I can do it,” Saskia said immediately, eager to get it done. “For Barton, for all of them. I’ll do it. And it’s not just on me, it’s on all of us.”
Ryk hadn’t said anything yet. She was just watching the darkness, where something had moved.
The ground came out from under them and Saskia screamed. She heard Eli’s wings snap open, heard some guttural cries, but they all landed on their feet within a few seconds’ freefall. Deon glowed as she swivelled her head, trying to see. The roots around them were closing in, a woven tangle.
Then they all had the impression that the ground beneath them was a platform, slowly pulling them down on pulleys made of living wood. The roots of the Heartwood snaked them down to infinity.
It was less like going down, though, and more like the tree was stretching, higher and higher above them. There was no sense of movement, no feeling of air rushing, or closing in, no smell. It was nothing. It was darkness. The Heartwood was listening to them and taking them where they needed to go.
“Is this haunted room actually stretching,” Eli intoned darkly, “or is it just your imagination?”
Saskia stared openly at him, and Roan covered her face. Baskar slid closer to Saskia, scrunching their shoulders. “Haunted?” they asked.
“Baskar, you’re literally a ghost,” Saskia retorted. She glanced at Eli, all regal and devastating, trying to look innocent as he rolled on the balls of his feet. Even after all this time, he remembered their last exchange on the Isle of Skye, with Saskia’s childish wish to go to a theme park with them if the world didn’t end first. She realized, now, that Eli had asked her what she wanted, knowing that things would, more than likely, not end well. His desire to do good, even for a throwaway moment, it had always been there. Saskia was feeling a lot of things, but suddenly she felt incredibly sad.
She tried to shake that off, and said to him instead, “I thought you’d never been to Disney World.” The line from the Haunted Mansion hadn’t been lost on her, even though she’d never been, either.
Eli lifted a shoulder. “Not in Florida, no.”
Ryk, banging her harpoon on the platform floor, startled the lot
of them like chastised kids on a field trip. “I would feel better if you ceased your chatter,” she said, “and if Phyr was here.”
Roan sighed. “Did we ever inhabit a place where our highest ambitions were going to amusement parks?”
Eli took her hand abruptly. “Yes,” he said fiercely. “And we’ll get back to it.”
He lifted their hands as one, and the fire twined carefully around them. Eli pulled the wind from his exhale, catching the embers, and sending the light out into the darkness. Floating flames freckled the dark, and they saw there was so much more moving there than they’d feared.
Beyond them was a vast . . . chasm? Their platform stopped, the roots coiling backward. They were underneath the Heartwood. Before them shone utter darkness. Ancient was here, somewhere.
“Do it now,” Eli turned to Saskia. Roan still held his hand; he looked like he needed it. Saskia nodded, and allowed the Onyx to do what it was made for.
A great hurricane. The others held on as Saskia reached for the Moonstone, letting the Onyx guide her, and she pulled.
For a moment, she saw those stars above the Roost again, but they weren’t stars. They were sigils. Words. The Narrative. Something cracked. Saskia tried to turn away from this story that she was being forced to see. She felt the tree around them trying to recoil, too. The Onyx touched the Emerald, which was somewhere in those roots, clutched close. She tried to call out to Barton, but it was the Moonstone that answered.
Saskia thought her mind was going to come apart.
At the centre of the hurricane there was a light, and a god with nine wings stepped out of it, holding a golden rod whose end point was weighted, swinging. A pendulum. The Onyx fell back, and Saskia choked. Baskar caught her; she had heard someone screaming, cut off by an abrupt grunt, and Saskia saw Roan catch Eli against the root wall, holding him steady. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he buried his face in her chest but was still alive. His wings were gone. He was just a man.