“What is it?” Marklus’ voice was no more than a whisper behind him.
Crinte glanced back with a finger on his lips, and then motioned with his hand for Marklus to follow. The two crept forward, and as they did, the song of the Mounts grew louder, and now they could almost taste the sweet perfume that wafted through the air. Marklus could feel the curls on his head tighten, and his breath became shallow as they drew closer. “What strange spell is this?” he whispered to Crinte, who continued to intently move forward.
“Look,” Crinte replied, pulling Marklus to an opening between the trees.
Marklus saw the strangest yet most attractive creatures he had ever seen. All of them were female. Some had long black hair, sleek and shiny, that trailed down their backs. Others had hair the color of wheat that bounced around their shoulders. And still yet others had hair the color of fire at sunset, tongues of red orange lapping at the air. Their skin varied, tanned by the sunlight or cooled by the deep night. They sang as one as they followed an invisible trail through the night. Milk white moonlight shone down on their bare heads and naked feet. With pointed toes, they seemed to glide through the wood, the light, sometimes catching the flutter of delicate butterfly wings that grew out of their ankles. Each of them brazenly showed off their long legs through the short tunics or dresses they wore, made of bits of cloud twined with feathers and mist, held together by braids of silver horsehair. Everywhere they floated they left their laughter behind, and a perfume of enchantment drifted through the air, calling those who breathed it in to follow.
Crinte, holding back no longer, moved forward, following the creatures as they roamed. Even in the moonlight, their beauty was so breathtaking it almost hurt. At times, it seemed as if there was something off, something too strong and too odd in their features, the way they held their necks, the curve of their noses, the strength of their cheekbones. He could not quite grasp what it was, but a hint of wrongness stood out. They opened their mouths and sang words of another tongue, and when the leader turned, she looked directly at Crinte and held his gaze with her purple eyes. Without pausing, the others turned one by one, and seeing Crinte and Marklus, danced their way back towards them. The perfume grew stronger as they drew nearer, along with a powerful sensation that made Marklus’ skin crawl. But he could see their faces clearly. They stood at Crinte’s eye level, and their large eyes were brilliant, bold colors of greens, blues, and oranges. Long lashes swept down towards their cheeks and they held out their slender arms as if welcoming the two. When they reached Crinte and Marklus, they continued to dance excitedly around them, singing for a moment, except for their purple eyed leader. She had a short, curved knife strapped to her waist, and her long black hair seemed to blend into the shadows, but as she drew near to Crinte, he saw it was actually as blue as the night sky. She came to a standstill in front of him, so close their feet almost touched. Her face was unreadable as she looked at him. The voices died away and Marklus wondered if he should prepare to fight or flee.
“You have returned.” The female spoke bluntly. She reached out a delicate hand as if to touch Crinte, but changed her mind and dropped it to her side.
“Will you take us to your king? I desire to speak with him about the war quickly coming to the Western World,” Crinte replied evenly.
“Why are you so keen on this war?” She seemed annoyed. “You would come here and infiltrate our sacred Kingdom with your woes.”
Crinte’s eyes blazed gold as he looked at her, silently warning her of things to come. “Your Kingdom will be sacred no more if these woes do come to pass. You know this. You know why I have come.”
She ripped her eyes from his face and turned to address the female creatures standing behind her, who were eagerly gazing from Crinte to Marklus as if they would very much like to eat them. “Call the Silver Herd.” She looked at Crinte, her voice low. “You know our king cannot help you.” She turned after the other females and leaped into the air. They flew upwards, calling out in their language.
Crinte and Marklus stood alone, watching the vibrant colors disappear above them. “Mermis.” Crinte turned to Marklus. “They are creatures of the clouds above us, yet they call the Afrd Mounts home in a way. They can be…unpredictable.”
“Now what happens?” Marklus asked curiously, watching the colors twinkle out of view.
“We wait for them to return with our transport.”
Alaireia and Starman sat side by side in the glade, watching the moonlight. “Where did they go?” Starman asked.
Alaireia glanced over at him. His shoulders dropped as he slouched against the gray boulder, and his fingers anxiously touched the hilt of his sword for comfort. “Chasing the voices of the Mounts, I’m sure.” She shrugged, but something about Starman’s troubled face made her keep going. “Starman, you still don’t have to come with us. You could stay here where it’s safe, away from the violence we are about to walk into.”
Starman turned to her, his eyes sad and weary. “I know, but what’s the point anymore? How can I stay here when I know what you are willing to do for the Western World? It was you who begged me to come, and you who told me you needed my skills. Now, at least, I am willing to join you. This is all my heart has left to give.”
Starman’s words struck like stones, and Alaireia felt his grief washing over her. Spontaneously, she reached out for him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling until he fell into her embrace, holding on as if he were drowning. “I am sorry, Starman,” she whispered.
He laid his head against her shoulder, his arms tight around her waist. “It is not your fault,” he sighed. “I understand the urgency now. I only wish I’d known sooner.”
The voices of the Mounts faded away and silence consumed the glade. Alaireia loosened her hold to look into his face. “If I could change the past and bring your family back to you, I would.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, and in the most unexpected motion, cupped Alaireia’s sincere face in his hands and gently kissed her lips.
Alaireia pulled back in surprise. “Starman!”
He leaned back, suddenly realizing how close they were and what he had done. “I’m sorry, I just…” His voice trailed off as his face heated up.
“No, I’m confused.” Alaireia peered at him, troubled. “I was just comforting you. I’m sorry for what happened, but I think you’re confusing your grief with something else.”
“No, Lightfoot…Alaireia…” Starman stammered as she stood up. “I’m not confused.” His eyes looked hurt.
She took a step away from him, calmly explaining. “Starman, I think I need to give you some space to clear your mind.”
“No, Alaireia.” Starman stood up and began walking slowly towards her. “It is true, I feel lost and misplaced. The world is not what I thought it was. Everyone I care about is gone now because of a terrible being and his turned creatures. Every portal that has opened has taken something away from you and something away from me. But now we have a chance together to defeat this, although I don’t know how much of a chance there is. When I said I would go where you go, I meant what I said. And if this is grief, I can see clearly now, maybe I was saved for this, but I need you, want you, by my side.” He had reached her now and took both her hands in his. “Don’t leave me behind.”
“Starman,” Alaireia said doubtfully. “Everyone I care about dies.”
“Well,” Starman gave her a lopsided grin, “I’m not dead yet.”
Despite herself, Alaireia smiled. “No, not yet.”
She leaned forward, as if to kiss him again, but the moment was broken as Legone ran into the glade. He glared at them sourly for a moment as they quickly broke hands and stepped away. “Where are Crinte and Marklus?” he demanded.
“Chasing sounds in the night,” Alaireia replied, shrugging unapologetically.
Legone crossed his arms.
“We’re back!” called Marklus as he jogged into the glade with Crinte at his heels.
Crinte�
��s face was flushed with excitement, and his eyes were alight. “Prepare yourselves,” he announced. “We are going to visit the Mermis.”
25
Mermis
As they waited, Legone sat down, positioning himself delicately between Alaireia and Starman. He looked at them, calculating for a moment, then stared straight ahead. “Take my advice.” His voice was hard. “Don’t fall in love. Trust me.”
Before they could reply, the sound of beating wings filled the air. Silver horses sailed into the glade, their wings creating a mini cyclone of dust and leaves. They alighted delicately and folded their wings, revealing four colorful Mermis upon their backs. The lead Mermi dismounted in one fluid motion, her black-blue hair swaying behind her lithe body. She walked up to Crinte, locking her indignant purple eyes on him. “We have come to escort you to an audience with King Vincsir.”
“Thank you,” Crinte responded calmly, ignoring the hidden threat in her voice. “These are my companions who will be joining us.”
“I thought as much.” The Mermi tilted her head scornfully and snapped her fingers. The three Mermis behind her alighted and led five silver horses forward. “I am Malaseya,” she added matter-of-factly. “We will be your guides. This is my sister Melair.” She gestured impatiently towards a redhead Mermi with green eyes. “And my cousins Ima and Ena.” She pointed respectively to a Mermi with orange hair and orange eyes, an odd combination, and another Mermi with hair like wheat and eyes like sapphires. They, unlike Malaseya, smiled sensually at the five and beckoned them forward.
The giant silver horses bent their knees, allowing the five to easily climb onto their bare backs. With a command from Malaseya, they leapt into the air, their silver white tails streaming out behind them. They rose quickly, leaving the mountainside behind. The friendly lights of the Mounts winked behind them, gathering as if waving, then dispersing to lead on their followers. At first, the beating of the large silver wings of the horses brought on a chill, but as the five grew used to it, they could see, as if for the first time, the beauty of the night. A layer of dark clouds lay between them and the mountains, blinding the world from view only momentarily until they burst through and could see, at last, the true coloration of the night. The sky was composed of darker hues of blues, purples and reds, mirroring the shades of the Mermis’ hair. White light streaked across it as the stars twinkled into view, a thousand dazzling lights breaking up the quilt of night and designing peculiar constellations across the universe. Creatures of auld and words of prophecy stood out in diagrams, appearing and disappearing as soon as the viewer began to grasp what mysteries were being revealed. Higher they climbed, into another wave of mist, and even as they flew through the clouds, mountain peaks appeared before them and the winged horses barely grazed their tops. The moon rose before them like a crisp, round wafer, as if they could reach out, touch its crust, and eat it. It lit their way, highlighting a path through the clouds and casting its glory on the sharp turrets of a castle far in the distance.
The air changed as they flew. Instead of becoming increasingly conscious of the shift in altitude, the perfume of the air made it easier to breathe, relaxing them as the horses climbed higher. Finally, they stopped ascending, and the invisible path through the air flattened out. The silver horses folded their wings and instead of flying, began to race across the sky, an odd, soundless gallop which brought splashes of mist spraying into their faces. As they moved forward, bizarre creatures smaller than an eyeball whizzed past them, shouting amicably in a language they did not understand. Laughter echoed off what might be mountain peaks, but whose voices the laughter belonged to was unclear. The stars gleamed brighter in glee as the castle in the distance grew larger and realer and sharper.
Finally, in the most disturbing way, the air became full of something. Although the light from the moon and stars lit up the invisible path they followed, Starman jumped when the first thing bumped against his bare skin. He yanked his hand away with a squeal, and a gentle pop made him look around. It became clear in an instant. Peach, round bubbles of all sizes drifted past them. Some popped on contact and others simply floated away in the windless night. The five gawked in confusion but the silver horses moved forward as if the bubbles were not even there. Looming before them, a castle hung suspended in the sky, surrounded by a multitude of Mermis, both male and female, dancing around the clouds it rested upon. Their hopeful, melodic voices filled the air as they tossed bubbles to each other in a strange ritual. When they saw the five approaching with the four Mermis, they dived away, hiding among the clouds, taking their wordless song with them. The silver horses slowed to a trot and finally halted in front of the broad staircase that led into the castle constructed of mirrors. Massive round turrets shot further into the night sky, their spiked tops shining warningly like a freshly sharpened blade. The wide golden doors to the castle sat atop a curved staircase with likely a hundred stairs leading up into its mysterious glory. Twenty Mermis could have stood side by side on the first stair and still left room to pass between them. No guards stood at those doors, nor any on the staircase. The castle stood free, providing open access.
Malaseya alighted on the staircase and waved her winged companion away. She stood in front of the others and opened her hands, palm up. “Welcome to Spherical, the Kingdom of the Mermis. Please take a deep breath and dismount.”
“Dismount?” Starman blurted out, staring at her, baffled. “And fall out of the sky to our deaths?”
Marklus, who had trustingly started to dismount, paused to wait for Malaseya’s answer.
She sighed as if explaining for the third time to a small child the way things are. “You have breathed enough of the air of our Kingdom to float. While you cannot fly, you will, at least, not fall.”
Starman, unsure of what to say, looked over at Crinte for guidance. But it was Legone the Swift who lightly climbed off the silver horse and gently placed his weight onto the air. He let go slowly and glided forward. “It feels like nothing at all,” he said curiously. Slowly, the others followed his lead, and indeed found themselves uneasily standing in the air.
Malaseya’s face twitched in amusement. Twirling around, she turned her back to them and called, “Follow me,” as she began to float up the stairs.
Melair, Ima, and Ena dismounted and followed behind while the horses spread their massive wings and flew off towards the white moon sitting behind the castle.
“No one from the lands below has ever come to our Kingdom before,” Malaseya said matter-of-factly. “You should count yourselves honored. If it hadn’t been for Srackt the Wise, you would not be granted this audience.”
“Ah, so you do know him,” Crinte said at last.
Malaseya paused to look at him, a private glance not meant for the others to see. She turned back to the staircase just as quickly. “Yes, he is the one who helped us create an antidote for the poison.”
“Poison?” Crinte could not keep the blindsided surprise from creeping into his voice.
“Yes,” Malaseya quipped. “We are cursed. He did not tell you?”
“No.” Crinte’s voice was quiet in acceptance. “When did it begin?”
“One year ago. When we set foot on the land below, we became gravely ill. It was only a matter of days before death started to consume us. We are immortals; death was not a fear we knew. Until now.” She looked back at Crinte, gauging his reaction. “Don’t look at me like that. You know this to be true. The bubbles are the antidote. As long as we smell them, we live.”
Crinte stopped walking. “We should leave. Malaseya, clearly you are trapped here. There is no way your armies can fight with us.”
Malaseya peeked back at him over her bare shoulder. “No. You asked for an audience with the King, and an audience you shall have. Tomorrow, I think. When the sky shifts to what you call day. I much prefer the night.”
Marklus stepped up beside Crinte, his fists clenched. “No, you heard him. We leave now. We cannot waste time here when your assistanc
e is futile.”
Legone stood behind Marklus and raised his bow threateningly. Immediately, Alaireia and Starman dropped their hands to the hilts of their swords.
Noticing their defensive positions, Malaseya turned around to stare at them, but no fear shone out of her purple eyes. Instead, she laughed scornfully. “You dare bring your weapons against us? You people of the land who cannot fly? What do you think will happen? You will slay us and run away? To where?”
“We have not come to fight,” Crinte objected, motioning for his warriors to stand down. “But your news has blindsided us. Had we known about the curse, we never would have requested an audience. The night is still young. You can return us to land and we will go our separate ways.”
Malaseya tilted her head and the other three Mermis flew to stand behind her, their faces neutral. “The night is not young,” she countered. “And you will not leave here until you see the King. After your audience, we will return you to your precious quest.” She threw the last words in their faces, then turned and quickly walked up the rest of the stairs.
The five warriors did not move, even as the Mermis continued forward. “Crinte?” Marklus questioned.
“There is nothing for it,” Crinte replied. His face tightened as he stared after the carefree Mermis. “It is only one day, and I would rather not alienate them, even if they cannot help us.”
The air felt cold as they continued upwards, and Alaireia strayed closer to Starman. “Stay close to me,” she whispered. “This is a peculiar place.”
The Complete Four Worlds Series Page 18