by Lam, Laura
‘Good afternoon,’ she said, her voice clearly reaching us even on our platform. ‘I am called Juliet. My friends here are Henry and Dirk.’ Henry was the pale man and Dirk was the russet-haired man. ‘I know you have questions. Concerns, fears, hesitations. It’s sudden, and change can be frightening. I know how life can shift at a moment’s notice.’ Her face closed, guilt stabbed me. Drystan stiffened. The circus would have failed anyway, with Ragona’s terrible handle on finances, but we’d still killed the circus the night we’d escaped. Aenea’s face floated in my mind’s eye, the loss and guilt still painful. So much senseless loss that dark night on the beach in Imachara.
‘I know our appearance has been widely reported already, but we thought that it would be better for you to hear this from us directly. There’s less chance of rumours being construed as facts. The Royal Snakewood family has graciously let us speak.’ She paused and licked her lips nervously. Her eyes flashed topaz. My fingers tingled, and I hung onto her every word.
Cyan shook her head vigorously, as if shaking away a fly. ‘Stay here,’ she said. ‘I sense something, but it’s faint. I need to be closer.’
‘You should stay here,’ I said, eyeing the crowd. They were still silent, for the most part, but I didn’t like the expressions on some of their faces. ‘Or one of us should come with you.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I can make my way through the crowd quickly, I need only think at them to shift a little out of my way.’
I kept my expression deliberately blank. That was a new skill, or something she’d not told us she could do before.
Juliet began speaking again, catching my interest. When I glanced back, Cyan was already descending the scaffolding.
‘. . . we can assure you, we are Chimaera. We’ve suspected it for a long time. All three of us have always looked different, but over the last two years, we seem to have come into our own. Though we may look strange to you, please know that we are people with feelings, hopes, and dreams. We mean no harm. We only wish to make ourselves known and to reach out to other Chimaera, hidden among us.’
The crowd murmured again, heads swivelling left and right, wondering if the person next to them could be like the three on the stage. Cyan had made her way halfway through the crowd, her shoulders tense. Dread rose up, but I tried to push it down.
‘So, if you are like us, please, come see us. We will be staying in the wing of the smaller building behind the palace. This is no trickery. We simply want to find others, to forge a connection, and try to understand why we have returned after so many centuries.’
‘Bollocks!’ someone cried out in the crowd, and other voices rose with them.
‘Please,’ Juliet said, her voice shaking. ‘We are no threat. That is all we have to say at this time. Thank you for coming and listening. In Lord and Lady’s Light, we look forward to brightening Ellada’s star.’
‘You’re cursed by the light!’ another called, and others took up a chant of ‘cursed, cursed, cursed’.
Cyan still pushed her way through the crowd, almost at the barrier to the front of the stage.
‘I don’t like her being down there,’ Drystan said. ‘This crowd is one step from turning nasty.’
Juliet and the others sensed that. They thanked the crowd again and inclined their heads, then began backing away from the stage. The crowd yelled insults. At the perimeter, Policiers and Royal guards called for order. Wordlessly, Drystan and I hefted ourselves over the scaffolding edge and began to climb down towards the square.
Cyan had reached the Shroud barrier and bashed her fists against it. She yelled something, but I couldn’t hear. Then Cyan pushed her way through the Shroud. A shiver ran down my back. No one was meant to be able to enter if they were on. Juliet turned, her mouth opening in surprise.
In my head, Anisa screamed. Long, loud, terrified, as I’d never heard her before.
Boom.
The sudden sound shook the ground and reverberated in our chests. We almost lost our grip on the metal scaffolding and had just enough time to wonder what it was before we saw the smoke furling from both of the cathedral towers, black and thick. Flames pouring from the windows. People screaming.
Another concussive explosion vibrated through the square. Drystan and I both lost our grip and fell onto the hard, cobbled square. It was only a few feet, but it forced the breath from my lungs.
The towers broke in half, white and dark marble raining on the cathedral roof.
The last explosion reverberated through my body as I lay flat on my back, unable to move. My ears buzzed, my vision swam, slowly steadying to focus on the debris raining from the sky. A piece of brick hit my head, another hit my shoulder, and the world dimmed and quavered. More screams rent the air. Smoke filled the square, swirling motes of embers and ash drifting down like flakes of snow. I coughed, wiping dust from my face, my hand coming away wet with blood.
My head swam with panic and disorientation. ‘Drystan!’ I called, choking and coughing.
‘Here!’ Drystan called to my right. About ten people were between us, all moaning with fear and trying to push their way away from the square. My feet had already been stepped on half a dozen times.
Drystan fought his way towards me, his face filthy with soot. Sirens wailed, drawing closer. Everyone who could had already fled the square.
I’d wondered, in the moments before the explosion, if the Shroud had somehow turned off and that was how Cyan had pushed through. Yet even through the explosion, it had held. The square was filled with debris, but all the larger pieces of rock and rubble remained behind the line where the Shroud had been. Where Cyan was, and Juliet, and the two other Chimaera.
Out here there were still injuries. People struggled to their feet. A woman slumped near me, groaned, her eyelids fluttering, blood staining her blouse. She opened her eyes, staring unseeing at the cathedral ruins. Though she was not dead, that glassy stare reminded me of Aenea, killed by the Ringmaster.
I couldn’t worry about these strangers. Picking my way through the debris, I tried to reach the cathedral. Cyan.
Drystan stayed close to my side. Blood ran down my temple, warm and wet. Drystan tore off a piece of his dirty shirt and told me to press the cloth to the wound.
‘Cyan!’ I called, and Drystan echoed my call. Before us was a wall of boulders that had once been one of the most beautiful buildings in Ellada.
‘Cyan!’ I screamed again. And then, in my mind: Cyan! CYAN!
For what seemed an eternity, there was nothing . . . then a faint: I’m here.
My knees almost buckled with relief. Where are you? I asked.
I don’t know. Somewhere dim and dark.
Are you trapped underneath something, Cyan?
Maybe . . . Her voice drifted away.
Cyan! Stay with me!
She didn’t respond, but I caught a few images sent from her: a small patch of sky, a smudge in the corner. It was the ruined stump of one of the cathedral towers. I swallowed against my dry throat, terror pulsing through me. To my left was a pile of rubble which could have matched the images: it must be where Cyan was trapped.
I didn’t see the Chimaera.
‘Come on,’ I said to Drystan.
The ambulances and Policiers were thick in the square. Doctors and nurses worked to treat the wounded. I didn’t see any dead, for a mercy. If the Royal Family hadn’t put up that shroud as a security precaution . . . it didn’t bear thinking about. I focused on the precarious stack of wood, stone, and dirt instead.
‘Oh Lord and Lady,’ I moaned, swaying on my feet. ‘If we move something the wrong way, it could all collapse in on itself.’
Cyan, come on, are you all right? Please, Cyan.
Nothing. Fumbling in my pocket, I drew out Anisa’s Aleph, clutching the Vestige disc tightly in my hands. While I couldn’t bring her forth, not here, there must be something she could do. She’d been silent since that bloodcurdling scream in my head at the moment of attack. Had she only sensed it in
that second before the explosion?
Anisa, you have to help us. The one who was Matla is trapped.
Drystan hovered near me as the chaos swarmed around us. My watering eyes shut tightly. Please, Anisa. Help me.
You don’t need my help, the Phantom Damselfly whispered in my mind. You have the power to help her yourself and only need me to point in the right direction. Do not be afraid of your own power. Those other Chimaera – I’d only sensed them last night, and now they’re gone. I should have seen this. I should have been able to help stop it. Yet I sensed nothing. Nothing. They were Chimaera. I should have been able to protect them. Her mental voice was tight with grief.
Cyan did, I said. She sensed what you couldn’t. Now she needs your help. Help her. She is your ward, as sure as I am. Don’t let us down.
A pause, a whisper. I’m going to take control of you, like I did to fix Maske’s automaton. Just long enough to show you how to save her. All right?
My breath caught in my throat. The last time she had done that, she had not warned me. I had suddenly been a prisoner in my own body as she had walked with my legs, trailed my fingers against the wall, kissed Drystan briefly with my lips. Despite our need for her aid at the time, it had been intrusive and disconcerting to say the least.
But I had no choice; there was no longer a trace of Cyan in my mind at all. All right. Just find her.
Anisa flowed into me, a gossamer sheen of blue and purple shimmering over my skin before settling. Drystan watched, his mouth falling open before he checked no one had witnessed the transformation. For those moments, there was no control over my body; I was curled into a corner of my own mind, a silent witness to Anisa’s usage of my powers. At least this time I knew what to expect, and was still able to see through my own eyes.
A strange sound thrummed in my ears, and the pile of rocks shimmered. Deep in the rubble, amid the pockets of air, I could see the outline of Cyan’s body. My forehead furrowed and then Anisa moved my body forward, setting aside a rock here and there.
‘Hey!’ someone called behind me. ‘The whole thing could crumble and people might be stuck below! Wait for the Policiers and the firefighters!’
Anisa ignored him, moving rocks with my hands. Drystan tried to help but Anisa motioned for him to stop. Before long, she had created a little hole and was reaching into it. A hand clasped mine, and Anisa pulled Cyan out. She was covered in blood and dust, and her eyelids fluttered, but she was still conscious.
‘Cyan, are you all right?’ Drystan asked her. Her mouth opened but no words emerged.
My stomach dropped. The Shroud hadn’t held throughout the entire explosion. Through Anisa taking over my body, I could sense a few other people trapped in the rubble, their souls shining like burning coals amongst the stone. Seven altogether. Oh my Lord and Lady.
They are not Cyan. The medics will help them.
Sometimes I forgot how cold the Damselfly could be.
The medics can’t sense the stone like you can. They’re people, frightened and hurt. Help them.
A pause.
She did, navigating my body over the rubble, gently moving the rocks aside to find the pockets of survivors, drawing the victims upright through the dust and debris. After her initial hesitation, she didn’t stop until we’d helped the other seven people I’d sensed trapped under the ruin out and passed them to the waiting ambulances. At least one of them probably wouldn’t make it. His leg was crushed to a mangled mess, and his skin had the deathly pallor of someone not long destined for this world.
Give me my body back, Anisa.
There was another reluctant pause and I tried not to let my fear show.
Anisa.
She took the disc out of my pocket. With a gentle, mental sigh, she flowed out from my mind and body and back into the Aleph gripped in my hand.
Like the last time she had taken my body, I fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Drystan helped me sit up. My head pounded, probably a result of both Anisa taking my body and the head wound.
Cyan didn’t look much better, but at least she was still with us.
‘She needs the hospital,’ I told Drystan.
He nodded and picked her up, curling her against his chest. Still dizzy, I had to lean on him heavily, but Drystan took us both to the medical queue. We waited our turn, watching the firefighters scurry to put out the last of the flames. I couldn’t tell how many had died, but it looked bad.
‘Who did this?’
Drystan shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Foresters,’ Cyan whispered. ‘A small, violent faction that hate Chimaera. They saw them as a threat to Ellada.’
‘Juliet,’ I said, my heart hurting.
‘You knew her?’ Cyan said.
‘She’d worked with us at the circus,’ Drystan said, his voice just as broken.
Cyan groaned, hiding her face against Drystan’s shirt. ‘Everything is so loud in my head.’
‘This doesn’t make sense. Even if the Foresters were against the Chimaera, why attack so quickly? And why have that silent protest and then turn to such violence?’ I asked.
Drystan shook his head, mystified. We reached the front of the medic queue. The tired nurse took one look at Cyan and gestured to the next ambulance. We clambered into the back with her where an equally exhausted nurse attended Cyan, making notes of her injuries.
As the engine started and the ambulance rattled down the rubble-strewn streets, I looked out of the small back window at the ruin of what had been the open market square. Just a few months ago, Drystan and I had watched a shadow puppet show there. Now there was no children’s laughter, no bright streamers fluttering from market stalls. All was the grey and black of broken stone, and the red of dying flames and drying blood.
5
INFIRMARY
Once there was a sleeping princess, trapped within a castle of fire. A dragon curled around the moat. Each of his exhales kept the stone aflame. The princess was safe from the heat, for she slumbered in an enchanted room. Many a knight and warrior tried to defeat the dragon, to rescue the princess and to keep the hoard of gold and jewels. Every time one approached, the dragon had only to let loose his flames, and the would-be hero perished.
This is one of those stories you may believe does not have a happy ending. No knight ever came to rescue the princess. She slumbers in her enchanted room still, the dragon curled protectively around the castle. She may never be saved. But, depending on her dreams, perhaps she does not need saving.
— ‘The Princess and the Castle of Fire’, Hestia’s Fables
The hospital was chaos.
Yelling voices and frantic footsteps echoed down the corridors as harried nurses and doctors rushed to and fro. The waiting rooms were filled to bursting with crying, anxious family and friends. The smell of blood and smoke was strong beneath the antiseptic cleaner.
The doctors said that, due to space, only one person could come into the ward with Cyan. Though only a small percentage of people within the square had been injured thanks to the Shroud, there were still hundreds who needed medical attention. We’d sent a messenger to Maske as soon as we’d arrived. He came and went through to be with his daughter.
A nurse told us that Cyan was in shock, but that they couldn’t believe how unharmed she was considering how much rubble she’d been trapped under. The other people Anisa and I had rescued had not fared so well.
Cyan’s presence flickered in my mind.
Are you all right? I asked.
With all the Vestige in the hospital enhancing our abilities, I heard her as clearly as a treble bell.
Sore, but I’ll live. Can’t say the same for everyone. I felt them die around me, Micah. Especially those three Chimaera. I so wanted to meet them. I’d been so excited by the possibility of meeting others. She sounded woozy from the pain medicine. It made me realize how very delicately we’re tethered to life. Like we’re all walking on a barely frozen lake that could crack beneath us at
any given moment.
I didn’t know what to say; having learned that very well the night I left the circus. Most of a year later, and the guilt and grief could still take my breath away.
Drystan slumped in his chair, looking as exhausted as I felt. He leaned close to me. ‘What happened back in the square? Was that Anisa in your body again?’
‘Yes. But I asked her to help, so this time she had my permission. She did something, channelled my power somehow so I was able to sense Cyan beneath the rubble, even though she was nearly unconscious. And I knew how to move the rocks so the rubble wouldn’t collapse.’
‘That’s . . . something else.’
‘Yes. She didn’t want to save the others. But I made her.’
‘She would have just left them?’
‘Aye.’
‘Shows her true colours, doesn’t it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If a person doesn’t have a purpose for her, what use are they?’
‘I don’t know. She did save them when I asked, so that must count for something, surely?’
Drystan gave me a wry look. ‘You’re someone she needs.’
There was no answer for that. We waited in silence, the shadows lengthening in the late afternoon sun. My head still hurt and my muscles ached.
Oli, Cyan’s beau, came to the hospital. He was as dirty as everyone else, his clothing ripped, his eyes wide and afraid.
He ignored us, going directly to a nurse and asking if he could see Cyan. The nurse went off and returned, shaking her head at him.
‘Maske must not want to leave?’ I guessed, watching Oli’s crestfallen face. I reached out to Cyan but couldn’t sense anything from her. Oli caught our eyes and I raised my hand in greeting, but he hustled past us and out of the hospital without a backwards glance.