“I can speak with animals, creatures, um, all kinds of things really,” Fia said, with a quick glance at Alexander. He squeezed her hand in encouragement. “After meeting with a witch, Kharsee, I followed some fireflies to a valley, where I got into a bit of trouble, and then Arion appeared.”
Alexander examined her bandaged hands as she spoke, and another ball of guilt twisted in his stomach. The bandages were pink with blood and filthy.
Fia described her visit to the forest of the witches, how she could return home, and how the worlds were connected. Yahto made a little pile of snow for her and she drew a symbol the witch had shown her, a figure of eight for Ohinyan surrounded by a circle with two intersecting lines for Earth.
“Kharsee said that all worlds are connected by the spiritual realm, and that it is being affected by the dying sun. This is why the windows will grow increasingly unstable.”
Alexander nodded. Why had his sage not provided such detailed information? Surely it was not only the witches who knew such things. “The situation with the windows is much worse than we previously thought. I have recalled many of the angels from Earth.”
“Kharsee said the effects would only remain for a while, but that a time of darkness was coming to Ohinyan. Erebus—it’s all him, everything we’ve seen and heard. Arion can hear him,” Fia explained.
The Mizunese and the Navarii began to whisper to each other in short, frightened bursts of chatter, but Fia sat calmly, as if she was taking it all in.
“You can hear the darkness?” Altair asked, looking up into Arion’s dark eyes.
Arion tapped a hoof on the ground.
“Erebus has been calling to many…creatures of Ohinyan,” Fia said. She struggled for words, and her cheeks blushed at the word “creatures.”
“This is why there have been so many changes. He has been working, slowly, patiently waiting for the sun to die, for his moment to return,” she finished, looking up to catch Alexander’s eye. He felt his jaw tighten as realisation hit him. Something he should have already thought of, something he should have noticed before, but he didn’t interrupt her as she spoke. Can she hear him?
“This is grave news, indeed. But unfortunately, we have a more pressing matter at hand,” Yahto replied.
“Yes, the Makya.” Fia wiped away the drawings in the little pile of snow at her feet. “Kharsee told me that Noor is safe and sent messages to say that Lorn intends to capture me and force Alexander to tell her the location of Alythia.”
“That’s right,” Alexander said, squeezing her hand gently. “Noor has been delivering messages via the Shadows. The Makya air fleet is indeed searching for Alythia, and Lorn is after Fia.” He pulled his fingers through his hair with his free hand as he spoke. What a mess he’d made of all of this. Some leader he’d turned out to be.
“I see. How do the Makya have such intel?” Yahto asked.
“My wife’s nephew, Oren, betrayed us. Lorn did not spare him,” Malachai said quietly, his eyes fixed on the dirt at his feet.
“Oren’s death will not be in vain, Malachai. We cannot risk too many angels returning to Earth. They could become cut off from their families here in Ohinyan, and right now we need all the help we can get. Especially with this news of Erebus…” Alexander shook his head. Their numbers on Earth were few. He could not recall another time when such a thing had been done. But he would not trap his people there unwillingly.
“One thing at a time, old friend,” Altair said, his voice gentle. “We have more pressing matters at hand, and it is good that you have recalled your brothers and sisters back from Earth. Let us hope it will increase our numbers enough when we face the Makya.”
Arion tapped another hoof on the ground, whinnying quietly. “Arion says that he will assist us in any way that he can. He is even prepared to fight, if it comes to it,” Fia said.
“It will come to that, in the next few days, according to our sources,” Alexander replied.
“Very well,” Yahto added. “The time for standing idly by has come to an end. You know my opinion of the witches and their prophecies and my concerns for my people. But if the great winged horse will help you, we must be humble and assist you, too. For the good of Ohinyan.”
The witch coven. They must have known Arion’s alliance would assist them, but how could they have known Fia would find him?
“Yahto,” Altair began.
“Father, I should have heeded your request. The sky spirits have sent us the winged horse as an example, and we will follow him. I hope you will forgive me for being naive.” Yahto clasped his father’s arm in his hand.
Altair nodded, a broad smile stretching across his weathered face, as his son continued, “Let us sleep on what we have learned here this evening. Tomorrow, we will talk of war.”
Arion sat patiently, waiting as the room emptied.
“Arion is welcome to join us and the rest of the Nords on the outskirts of town should he wish for some company. We prefer to spend most of the night in our animal forms, so we can guarantee a little conversation should he wish for it.” Maab had approached them, closely followed by Enne.
“He says he’d be grateful for the company,” Fia replied. “And that there will be more joining us in the morning. Wait, more what?” She tilted her head towards Arion. “Tremors in the ground, footsteps coming this way. They will be here by morning,” she interpreted. “Should we be ready to defend ourselves?”
Arion shook his head. Alexander breathed a quiet sigh of relief. They couldn’t afford to damage the morale of the Mizunese soldiers so soon after Yahto had agreed to help. He watched as Maab and Enne shifted, their armour dropping away, bounding alongside Arion in a mass of white and black. With the addition of the Mizunese soldiers, their chances of winning this fight were significantly improved. But at what cost? Lives would be lost, and it was his responsibility to bear.
Alexander and Fia returned to the wooden house they’d been sharing with Runa and Malachai for the last few nights, the scent of spices and sweet cooked fruit overwhelming them as they stepped in out of the cold night.
As they sat down to eat, Runa interrogated Fia on the details of her day. “I should have gone with you,” Runa said, shaking her head and dishing out steaming spoonfuls of stewed fish.
“I’m so sorry,” Alexander began. “I had no idea you could return to Earth…no one has ever…I can carry you back, at first light…” He poked at his fish with a wooden fork. Foolish. That’s what he was. Utterly foolish for dragging her into this, deceiving her and dragging her halfway round Ohinyan. Nothing but a fool.
“We could not have known it was possible, Sire. Not to mention how dangerous it is,” Malachai said, pouring water into four wooden cups. “There are several windows near here.”
“Don’t be absurd, Mal.” Runa elbowed Malachai gently. “Fia needs to go home, not to be dumped in the middle of nowhere.”
“Runa’s right,” Alexander said, his eyes meeting Fia’s. Home. This could be her home, couldn’t it, if she wanted it to be? “Fia?” Alexander held her gaze.
“Sorry, what was that?” She shook her head, and something in her expression reminded him of how she’d paused earlier when she spoke of Erebus.
“We’d have to wait a few more days to take you back, but I’ll take you back as soon I think it’s safe for us to leave Mizune. That is, of course, if you’re okay with the risk?” Alexander asked.
“The risk?”
“Going home, the windows could be unstable.” He searched her eyes, wet and glistening in the candlelight.
“Yes, of course,” Fia finally said, pushing a bit of fish around her bowl. “And what about Erebus?” She asked casually, too casually, taking her bowl to the sink.
Alexander put down his fork. “We’ll need to find a way to stop him.”
“Well,” Runa said, sipping the water Malachai had poured, “perhaps for tonight we should not think of such things.”
…
Whilst Fia was getting re
ady for bed, Alexander sat by the window, inspecting the cuff his sister had given him. The pattern swirled and flourished from one end to the other, delicately carved into the metal.
She’ll go home. You’ll say goodbye. And when this is all over, you can go back to her. It isn’t safe for her here.
He put the little cuff away and lay back on the bed, flexing his wings and running his hands through his hair. He’d watched in awe as Fia interpreted Arion’s words for everyone in the great chamber, so effortlessly and with conviction. Ohinyan had changed her, and he loved her all the more for it.
Alexander had known he’d loved her since she saved the little Navarii boy from drowning. When he thought she had almost drowned. His breath caught in his throat. He gazed out the window. Three moons glowed, and the sky spirits had begun their nightly ritual. What if all the windows collapsed, and he could never see her again? But if she could hear Erebus…His breath grew faster at the thought, and he closed his eyes to calm himself.
He’d never felt this way about anyone. The thought of losing her. He couldn’t bear it.
“What is it?” Fia asked, taking his hand in her own.
He hadn’t heard her come out of the bathroom. He inspected the damaged skin where her bandages had once been.
“It doesn’t hurt.” She pulled his hands up to meet with hers, flexing her fingers through his. “What are you thinking about?” Green eyes, the colour of the Aurelli forest, looked back at him, searching, concerned.
“Can you hear him?” he asked, his voice soft.
Fia stiffened and paled.
“It’s okay. I understand why you didn’t tell me—but you realise...”
She nodded, biting her lip as it trembled slightly. “I’m sorry for not telling you before.”
“You’re a target, Fia. Not just for the Makya, but for Erebus.”
“I know. I’ve seen what he can do. That thing that Arion saved me from, the Sorren, the Senkahs.” She wiped at her eyes. “I have no way to stop him.”
Alexander pulled her closer. “I keep telling myself it isn’t safe for you here. But…”
“I know,” she whispered, and he brushed away a hot tear as it rolled down her cheek.
Soaked in the white glow of the moonlight, Alexander wrapped his wings around her, kissing her softly. The air changed, intensified, just as it always did when he was close to her.
Just a few more moments.
Chapter Twenty–Seven
Fia
“I have felt the tremors all night. Our visitor is almost upon us,” Arion said to Fia, as she followed him sleepily to the outskirts of Mizune. Alexander squeezed her hand as the huskies howled into the morning air. Maab and Enne followed close behind them, their paws silent in the snow.
Fia couldn’t shake the feeling that there was going to be a consequence to admitting that she could hear Erebus. Would Erebus wait until Alexander was at his most vulnerable, during the battle, maybe? Would he target Altair, or Maab and Enne?
“State your purpose, Jǫtunn,” Arion called out to a silhouette in the fog. At the outskirts of Mizune where the Nords slept lay a cluster of woodland, and beyond it stretched snow covered tundra for many miles until the witches’ forest. The slow and steady tremors became deeper as they approached and then stopped.
A voice replied from the dense fog, loud and echoing, “Winged horse. I am Gymir of the Jǫtnar.” His voice was crystalline, like thousands of pieces of glass shattering at once. Two more tremors shook the ground, and Gymir appeared through the fog.
Fia steadied herself, tilting her head back to take in his full height.
“An ice giant, in all my days,” Maab muttered, his white fur camouflaging him against the snow.
“He says his name is Gymir,” Fia said, taking a step closer.
Gymir was as tall as the strange buildings of Ikothea, with two long arms and legs protruding from a torso encased in armour. Where there should have been skin, there was nothing but ice, reflecting all the colours of the glacial drift Fia had seen throughout the south. His face was like the ragged edge of a mountain, and his eyes, from this distance, were nothing more than crevices. When he spoke, chunks of ice broke away and fell from his mouth, shattering on his chest. In his right hand, he held a weapon, a staff reaching right up to his shoulders.
“My name is Fia. What brings you here, Gymir?” She stepped closer, so he would see her better, willing her voice not to shake in front of the others.
“Fia. Many things are changing in Ohinyan. Many things,” Gymir said solemnly, coughing chunks of ice and clearing his throat. He rolled each word around in his mouth before he spoke it. Crunching, rumbling, and murmuring were underscored with the tinkling of ice. “When the ground beneath us tremors with the whispers of unfathomable darkness, we listen. As the days grow darker when they should not, we watch. And when the winged horse speaks with man, then perhaps it is time for us to speak, too.”
“I think he wants to help,” Fia said. “Arion, can you take me higher up?”
Arion nodded.
“Gymir, perhaps the winged horse and I might come and speak with you?” Fia gave a sideways glance to Alexander and he nodded in response.
Gymir coughed and wheezed ice like a tired old man. “Very well,” he finally said.
Once more, Fia climbed onto Arion’s back, holding onto his mane to balance herself as he flew up through the fog towards Gymir. As they approached, Gymir held out a hand like a slab of ice over a lake, streaked with white and blue. Arion set down gently, encouraging Fia to speak.
“Gymir,” she shouted as loudly as she could through the wind. “These things you’ve mentioned, there’s more—the Makya, the fire people, they are taking advantage of Ohinyan’s situation, and they want to fight and cause destruction.” She held her arm up to shield herself from the wind.
Gymir coughed once more and a chunk of ice fell from his face towards his upturned palm where she stood beside Arion, but Gymir swatted it away with his free hand before it hit them.
“We are familiar with the Makya. We are not so distant with the creatures of Ohinyan as you would think,” the ice giant replied, wheezing through his words, as he shook his great head. “No fight has ever come to any good.”
Fia examined his features as he spoke. Deep within the crevices in his face, framed by finer, wispier pieces of ice, sat deep, dark eyes like brilliant blue sapphires.
“The Jǫtnar will assist, but we must do so from afar, or I fear we may do more harm than good.” He was silent for a moment. “The wind, have you any use for it?”
“What’s he talking about, Arion? What about the wind?” Fia asked.
“The Jǫtnar could command the winds, it was once said,” Arion replied.
Fire, air, water, earth. “Yes,” Fia shouted once more to the giant. “An airship is coming, maybe several, flying beasts made of metal.”
“And these flying beasts are foe, I gather?” Gymir asked. Heavy snow began to fall, and it was hard to see his face anymore.
“Yes,” Fia called out through the blizzard.
“Fia, time to go,” Arion bellowed into the wind, and he leapt into the air.
“Very well,” the giant’s deep voice echoed, “when the flying beasts come, we will assist you.”
“Thank you, Gymir,” Fia called as Arion made one last circle of the giant’s head before returning to the others.
“Time to discuss strategy,” Arion said, as his hooves rested in the snow.
…
“The Makya know of Mizune’s defences, so they will not land here,” Alexander explained in the great chamber, as they looked over maps of brittle parchment. “There is a valley to the south, close to the witches’ forest. It is the only place suitable for them to land.”
Altair nodded. “We do not wish to draw the attack to Mizune. It is too risky. They will be exposed in the valley. And what of the council?” he asked. Even when seated, his great cloak hung about him in endless layers.
&
nbsp; “We’ve had no word from them, and I cannot risk sending another envoy.” Alexander ran a hand through his hair. “My General will have more information for us soon, but I think our suspicions will be correct. I do not think this is the council’s doing.”
Fia thought of Lorn and of Terah, the Fire Mother. Were they one and the same?
“That does not mean we will hold back,” Yahto added. “We cannot trust the information from your witch friend to be accurate or complete. What does the information from your guards tell us of the Makya?” Your witch friend. The loathing tone was not lost on Fia.
Yahto paced up and down the chamber, and Fia’s eyes flickered between the men as they spoke. She would not miss this opportunity to learn how she could contribute—how she could repay them all for saving her life.
“The Makya are not natural fighters,” Alexander said. “They rely heavily on their ability to create fire and are easily caught off guard.” He spoke with confidence, despite being so much younger than the rest of the men in the room. Fia admired the way he never let his age fluster him. “None are as adept as Lorn and her brothers or as the other members of the council. The rest will be clumsy, easily exposed.”
Fia cast her gaze across his wings, willing away the creeping panic at the thought of those feathers catching fire in battle. He’d worn nothing more than his loose hemp trousers, much to her distraction, the entire time she’d known him. Did angels wear armour?
“Do they carry weapons?” Yahto asked.
“The less adept ones carry a fire staff, which causes extensive damage but are slow to target, and as for their ship, it is armed, so they may cause destruction from the skies without deploying their guards. But I cannot speak for any allies they may have with them,” Alexander replied.
“They have the Aurelli from the forest where I…arrived,” Fia said. “They’re light but nimble, and really fast. They carried bows, but I’d put money on it that their teeth and claws could do some serious damage, too.”
The Third Sun (Daughter of the Phoenix Book One) Page 24