The Bitter Twins

by Jen Williams

  ‘You go to Tormalin now, I expect.’

  Noon stopped. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘He will hurt you, little weapon. Eborans always end up hurting humans – either through malice, through inattention, or boredom. His eye has already started to stray, and if you cannot see that, your dull human senses are of even less use than I thought.’

  Noon left the tree a little faster than she meant to, scraping the palms of her hands against the bark in her haste to get away, and she stalked back to the rows of houses without looking back. She didn’t want Vostok to see what was on her face, even though she knew the dragon could feel it plainly enough – just as she felt the thin thread of the war-beast’s disgust.

  38

  When Hestillion had been young, there had been a brief fashion among the Eborans to own hunting hounds. Pets generally were an unpopular concept with them, because the lifespans of normal animals were so very brief, but for some reason there was a short span of years when the big, shaggy wolfhounds from the east were popular, and Hestillion’s father had given in to the craze. She remembered that she had been vaguely scared of the thing, as it had long legs, and was taller than she was at the time. It had had short, wiry grey and blond fur, and Mother had let Tor name it. He was not frightened of the hound, and he named it Mouse, as everything had to be a joke with her brother. Once, she and Tor had been out in the forest with their father and Mouse, and a pair of wolves had approached them, slinking silently out from between the trees. They weren’t worm-touched but they were big, healthy animals, and her father’s hand had dropped to the sword at his belt. Hestillion remembered very clearly that she had been exasperated by that – there was no chance, by all the roots, that their useless father would be able to protect them. Mouse, though, had jumped out in front of their small group, and he had put his head low to the ground and growled, prowling back and forth as though he were standing over his own pups. His wiry fur had stood up on end, and his mud-brown eyes flashed, and the wolves had slunk off again. What she was seeing in the massive chamber now made her think of that day; Celaphon growling and prancing, making himself look as large as possible, while the two smaller war-beasts looked on.

  ‘I defeated you,’ he hissed, ‘because I am stronger!’

  They were still separated from each other by the thin transparent walls, which Hestillion thought was all for the best, as the great griffin looked murderous with rage. Her cousin and the human man had been moved into the chamber with them, and there was no mistaking the aghast expressions on their faces as they watched the enormous dragon strut back and forth. The queen was a dark presence by the wall. She had been silent so far, simply watching.

  ‘Let me out, and I will fight you, one warrior to another!’ shouted the griffin, whose name apparently was Sharrik. The tall blond man, the one her cousin had been so concerned about, was back on his feet, although he looked pale and shaken. He stood next to Aldasair, but she could see him muttering words to the griffin, attempting to calm him. ‘Let us see how you fare when we are not fighting your entire worm-army at the same moment.’

  ‘War-beasts should not fight at all. Not against each other.’ This was the great wolf, Jessen. Hestillion lifted her eyebrows. Aldasair’s war-beast had hardly spoken at all so far, but her soft voice was ringing with tension. ‘You are our brother.’

  Celaphon stopped pacing, his tail swishing back and forth. This seemed to have thrown him. The wolf stepped forward.

  ‘We were born from the same branches, we were nourished by the same roots. Why do you fight us?’

  Hestillion glanced at the queen, expecting her to step in, or halt the discussion, but she stood unmoving, her cracked-glaze face perfectly still.

  ‘I am different to you,’ said Celaphon simply.

  ‘That is no reason to fight.’

  ‘He is not like us,’ added Sharrik, hotly. ‘He is tainted. I can smell it, and I know you can too, sister.’

  The collar of jagged plates around Celaphon’s jaw expanded, and he rose up to his full height. If he truly went berserk in here, Hestillion did not know what they could do to stop it. She stepped lightly in front of the dragon.

  ‘Celaphon is stronger, hardier and fiercer. He is a war-beast unlike anything that has come before, and you are afraid.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ said Jessen, her orange eyes on Hestillion. ‘We should all be afraid, as should you, Lady Hestillion.’

  Before she could reply to that, Celaphon lowered his head again, snorting hot blasts of foul-smelling breath.

  ‘They are connected. How are you connected? Why am I not? What is the bond between you?’

  The war-beasts looked at each other.

  ‘We do not know what you mean,’ said Jessen eventually.

  ‘You fly together, think together, aid one another,’ spat Celaphon. ‘When one is threatened, the other comes for them. There is a bond. What is it? What is this connection?’

  When no one replied Celaphon hissed at their silence. ‘It is some magic you keep to yourselves. You call me brother, but you hide it from me.’

  ‘There is nothing.’ Aldasair had approached the transparent wall, and, annoyingly, he looked genuinely concerned. ‘Nothing that could not also be yours, if you flew free with us.’

  The queen had appeared at Celaphon’s side. For the first time that Hestillion could recall, she was looking directly up into the dragon’s face, regarding him as though he were a fellow being and not just some curious artefact.

  ‘Celaphon,’ she said. Hestillion was almost certain that she had never used his name before either. ‘If it is a connection you seek, then we can give it to you.’

  The dragon didn’t answer, but continued looking down at the Jure’lia queen. His strange, pearly eyes looked blank.

  ‘Have we not fed you? Brought you life when you were dying? Made you stronger and more powerful than any other?’

  His reply was a murmur. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then trust us. Come with us now.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ asked Hestillion. She pitched her voice low, reluctant to let her cousin see her question the queen so directly, but she saw him out of the corner of her eye, clearly listening.

  ‘Come, both of you, then. We will explain it as we go.’

  ‘I have never seen anything like it.’

  Aldasair spoke quietly. They still shared their cell, but the two war-beasts were sleeping, curled up together for comfort. He and Bern sat on the other side. They had both tried leaning against the wall, but the warmth and softness of it was unnerving. Aldasair was sure his shirt had stuck to it a little when he pulled away, as though it were slightly sticky.

  ‘It is obvious they have . . . done something to him, poor creature.’ Bern looked as serious as Aldasair had ever seen him. In the gloomy light, the broad planes of his face looked as though they were carved from marble, and his eyes were dark. ‘Some worm-people taint. Sharrik is upset by him. It’s like . . . looking at a wound that is festering, or a lamb born with one too many legs.’

  ‘He was birthed here, grew here. In this sunless place. None of his brothers or sisters were with him, just Hestillion.’ He shook his head, still disbelieving. ‘I do not know her anymore. My own cousin.’

  ‘Do you know why she did this?’

  ‘No! I . . . I’m sorry. When the humans started coming to Ebora I could not understand them at all, all the ways they spoke and the looks they gave each other. I remembered their languages, but the rest of it was a mystery. At least, I thought, I understood Hestillion. But I do not. There was some poison growing in her.’ He stopped, remembering how she had become obsessed with the Hall of Roots, how she would not let him see her. ‘I should have seen it, still, I think. If I were not so . . .’

  ‘You cannot live other people’s lives for them,’ said Bern, shifting on the soft floor. ‘And you can’t always know their hearts.’ He sighed. ‘My head aches like a bastard.’

  ‘I thought you were lost to
me.’ When Bern looked up, Aldasair turned away, not quite able to meet his eyes. ‘You and Sharrik. Eaten by this monster. And then when we were in here, and I couldn’t reach you, and you did not move . . . I thought I had lived through all my worst days, Bern, but I was wrong. I would live another thousand years in that empty palace of the dead, rather than lose you.’

  The words were out before he’d even known they were coming. He felt stricken with horror, betrayed by his own mouth. Sitting up very straight, he tried to ignore how Bern was looking at him, because he had no idea what it meant. Years and years of never speaking and in a handful of moments he had exposed something he hadn’t even known existed. He thought of a frail underground root, suddenly meeting sunlight, and shrinking, shrinking . . .

  ‘Aldasair.’ Bern’s voice was so strange – rough, somehow, broken – that Aldasair turned to him in concern. The big man looked as though he were struggling with something, and then he reached over and took Aldasair’s hand and squeezed it.

  ‘Aldasair,’ he said again, and now his green eyes looked brighter than the shadows. ‘You look like you’ve just swallowed a goose, and you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t feel any shame over your words, because I . . . By the stones, Aldasair, I want you.’

  ‘You want what?’

  In the corner, the war-beasts shifted in their sleep, and both Bern and Aldasair jumped guiltily.

  ‘I don’t know how it is in Ebora, but in Finneral, we love who we love.’ Bern looked anguished now, as though he too were struggling to swallow a goose. ‘I don’t know; you might find it horrifying, or disgusting even, but what I know is that to fly with you is happiness, and to see you hurt is sorrow.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘So . . . how do Eborans feel? About . . . this sort of thing?’

  Aldasair blinked rapidly. Bern was still holding his hand, the warmth was like a balm against his skin. He felt dizzy, his mind caught in a vortex around the words we love who we love.

  ‘I don’t believe it actually matters. I don’t believe it matters at all.’

  Bern leaned forward and rested his forehead against Aldasair’s, his eyes closed. The warmth and closeness of the man felt like the only thing that mattered just then.

  ‘Then let’s keep our eyes open, because we need to get out of this place. The sooner the better.’

  ‘What do you mean to do?’

  The queen had taken them out of the chamber, throwing back the walls to make room for Celaphon’s huge bulk as easily as a woman turning aside a curtain. When they had arrived at the central crystal chamber, the walls had fallen away entirely, opening up the room to the corridors beyond. The blue light of the crystal seemed to splash eagerly against the walls like some unlikely summer sea, and in it Celaphon looked grey, as though he had been turned to stone.

  ‘I still do not like it,’ he said.

  ‘This, Celaphon, could give you the connection you crave.’

  ‘How?’ demanded Hestillion. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The crystals contain pieces of our memory,’ said the queen, calmly ignoring Hestillion’s tone. ‘And through those memories, we are together. We could give you a piece of this, Celaphon, to carry within you, and through it you would be joined with us.’

  ‘Joined with you,’ said Celaphon, his voice flat.

  ‘Every part of us, you would feel. It is a connection unlike anything else.’ The queen reached out and held her hand in front of the crystal, not quite touching it. ‘To you also, Lady Hestillion Eskt, born in the year of the green bird, I offer this boon.’

  Hestillion swallowed hard. Her bond with Celaphon was a tenuous thing, coming and going depending on his moods; half the time she thought she imagined it. Was this a way of strengthening it?

  ‘How can you know that will work?’

  ‘On your war-beast? Certainly it will. He is already half our creature, anyway. On you, we are less certain, but you are strong.’

  ‘How . . . How could you even do such a thing? Give us a piece of that?’

  ‘It is not easy,’ said the queen. The shadowed places on her white, mask-like face collected the blue light like rock pools. ‘We must grow the crystal a little, which costs us a great deal of effort. And then we must break it off, and it must be accepted by your body. It will be a slow and painful process.’

  Celaphon had been staring at the crystal in silence, but now he lowered his head to speak to them more directly. ‘And what of my brothers and sisters?’

  A flicker of annoyance passed over the queen’s face. She drew herself up, looming over Hestillion. ‘What of them?’

  ‘Will this connect me to them?’ If it were possible for a dragon to look stubborn, Celaphon was making a good show of it. The queen made to reply to that, and then paused. She looked back to the crystal, her brow creased, and it was such a human expression that Hestillion felt a set of cold fingers walk down her spine.

  ‘If we gave them pieces too, it is possible. There will be resistance from them, which might make it difficult . . . but there could be unexpected benefits, too.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Hestillion.

  ‘I am uncertain. But perhaps they will be more tractable. Our memories will spread through them, changing them. They may not wish to fight us any longer. Or they may fight for us.’ The queen shrugged, another chillingly human gesture. Did she learn it from me? ‘We can kill them, if it does not prove useful.’ The queen looked pleased with this logic. ‘Yes, kill them now, or use them, kill them later.’

  ‘They are my brothers and sisters.’ There was danger in Celaphon’s voice, and Hestillion tried to send a note of caution to him. ‘I will fly with them.’

  ‘You wanted to destroy them earlier,’ pointed out the queen. ‘It does not matter. Will you accept this boon, Celaphon Eskt, born of the corpse moon?’

  Hestillion felt like she’d been struck, but she held herself very still. Celaphon did not seem at all concerned by the queen’s phrasing, and he reached out towards the crystal. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I will. How do we do it? Make it work, now.’

  The queen turned to Hestillion. If there was triumph on her mask-like face, she couldn’t see it. ‘And you?’

  Celaphon would not be turned away from this path now, and where he went, so would she.

  ‘Do it.’

  The queen smiled, a thin stretching of her lips, and she turned back to the crystal. She reached out again, but instead of touching it, strings of black fluid began to fly out from her body, encircling the crystal. In her time aboard the corpse moon, Hestillion had observed the queen becoming more solid somehow, as though the black fluid her body was composed of had set, turning spongy and dark green, and evidently this fresh liquefaction cost her some considerable effort. Her eyes closed tight, sending thin cracks across the white material of her face. After a moment, drops of grey liquid formed on her forehead, building there, and then oozing greasily down her face. The rings of black fluid now fully encircled the crystal, and the light inside it was growing dimmer and dimmer. Abruptly, it flickered out, and with a sound like dry leaves being crushed underfoot, the top section of the crystal sprouted several new shards. They stood out from the rest of the smooth crystal like a set of broken fingers – clearly attached, but wrong somehow.

  The black fluid flowed back into the queen with a snap, and she shook herself all over before placing a hand on the blue surface. There was a sharp cracking sound, and the extra section of crystal broke away and fell to the floor. Despite herself, Hestillion jumped.

  ‘There.’ The queen reached up and swiped away the lines of dirty grey from her face, which was glistening slightly. ‘Not something we should like to do very often.’

  The ship was very quiet. Too quiet. Hestillion realised that several noises, soft hums and clicks that she had grown so used to that she no longer heard them, had ceased while the queen had been growing the crystal. There was something unsettling about that, as if they stood within the bowels of something utterly
dead, and she found that she was relieved when the light within the crystal blinked back into life, and the soft murmur that was the life of the corpse moon eased back into existence around them.

  The queen had retrieved the newly formed piece of crystal, and held it up to them. It looked like a huge blue sapphire, a slightly brighter colour than the rest of the object. It winked with internal fires.

  ‘The next stage will not be so comfortable for you, Celaphon.’ The queen smiled. ‘But you will trust us, I believe.’

  39

  ‘They aren’t here, Noon.’

  Tor stood and waited while Noon made a point of sifting through a final patch of mud before turning around to face him. The witch looked pale and drawn this morning, with dark circles under her eyes, as though she had missed a few nights’ sleep, and she had been distracted and quiet, not even responding to his usual taunts. It had been another hot day – as all the days appeared to be – and her cheeks bore isolated patches of bright pink.

  ‘Not in this bit, no,’ she said, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing them with her fingers. ‘We’ve looked through a lot of mud today, though. We’re probably getting close.’

  ‘Noon.’ Tor took a breath and held it, watching her closely. ‘You must see that this is a pointless task? The amber tablets aren’t here. We’re a good two hundred feet away from where Micanal said he dropped them, and we’ve been that far up the other end too. The things are lost.’

  Noon dropped her hands and glared at him. ‘You’re giving up?’

  Tor grimaced. ‘I’m saying it’s pointless. We’re not going to find them, we’re wasting our time.’

  She pressed her lips together, then bent and swished her hands back and forth through the water, washing off the mud.

  ‘Not up for a bit of heavy labour? Is that it?’

  Tor rolled his eyes at that. ‘Noon, I’m twice as strong as you. But that’s not my point.’ He composed his features, trying to look as reasonable as possible. ‘Anything could be happening in Ebora, and we have two of the strongest war-beasts here – in the middle of nowhere, on an impossible quest. It’s irresponsible.’