by Cate Corvin
If I hadn’t been tired and aching to the bone, I would’ve kept flying. It was only one day longer; if we hadn’t flown, I’d still be days away. Every drop of pain was worth it.
Everyone was quiet as night fell, painting the sky in shades of indigo. I watched the surface of the Styx churn with unnerving shapes, but it was impossible to fear anything while my men were with me.
I fell asleep sitting up, cradled against Tascius’s chest.
The sky was gray again when I opened my eyes.
I’d somehow managed to sleep the whole night through right next to the Styx, without a single nightmare to show for it.
I got to my feet, ignoring a beckoning white hand that broke through the Styx’s oily surface, and brushed dust off my clothes.
The sooner we gave the smith what we needed, the sooner I’d get a hot shower and the chance to talk to Belial.
Lucifer, Azazel, and Tascius were already awake, talking quietly and facing the river. I slid into their little group, reaching out to touch both Azazel and Tascius.
“Are we ready?” I asked, and Lucifer ruffled my hair.
“We’ve been ready.”
I playfully brushed his hand away, but he was already out of reach, stepping into the sunlight. His silver gaze landed on my wings. “If you need to rest, we can stop. We’re not going to drive you into the ground just to get there faster.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, tossing my hair over my shoulders and preparing for another day of strenuous exertion. “Not made of glass, remember?”
Azazel tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “We’re all very aware, but I’d rather not have you pull a muscle.”
I sighed, but there was a tiny little part of me that was pleased with their concern over my wellbeing. I’d suffered far worse under Gabriel’s training. Flying for days was the least of it.
But they actually cared, which was fine, as long as they knew I was going to disregard the concern and push myself anyways.
We flew up over the mountains, following the trail into the wasteland of Dis. The mountains to our left rose up in sharp peaks, and it was easy to follow the foothills.
After several hours, the sun beating down on us made me feel like my wings were scorching. I caught the occasional breeze, letting it dry the sweat on my face and cool the heat of the sunlight on my dark feathers.
The edge of Dis was barely visible, a dark rim on the horizon, when Azazel began to descend. His stars became brighter in the shadows of the foothills.
I landed and followed him onto the trail to Hekla Fell. Nobody spoke, accepting the last leg of the journey in silence, but both Lucifer and Tascius were careful to keep me between them whenever possible.
When we came to the tunnel, they didn’t say a word, seemingly reading each other’s minds. Lucifer strode in front of me, and Tascius took the rear. I extended a hand backwards and was pleased when he laced his fingers in mine, and Lucifer did the same for me.
Several times, I closed my eyes, the weight of invisible eyes once again pressing down on me. Making the journey a second time was no easier than the first time.
I never thought I’d say I was happy to feel the pulsing heat of Hekla Fell’s magma lake, but it was a far cry better than the strange sensation of being watched in that tunnel.
“Where’s the ebonite?” Lucifer asked Azazel, and the Watcher made those painful-looking hand gestures again.
The chest of ebonite, the mirror, and a rough-spun sack materialized from seemingly nowhere, resting on the sharp obsidian ground before us. I picked up the mirror, and Azazel grabbed the sack.
“Are those her hands?” I asked, catching a whiff of something that made my gag reflex kick in.
He shook the bag. “Yes. He didn’t specify what condition they needed to be in.”
I made a guttural noise, swallowing hard and turning my head for a whiff of ashen air to wash away the reek of decay.
Wayland was inside his hut, and I knocked on the wooden frame before pulling the curtain aside. He was bent over the anvil, hammering at a misshapen lump of metal. The hut was even more packed now, with barely room for me to fit inside.
“We’re back, with your mirror, her hands, and the ebonite.”
The centipede-like demon dropped his hammer, tossed the lump aside, and gestured for me to come forward. “Bring it, woman, bring it in!”
I carefully held out the mirror and he snatched it up, gripping it with several hands. His ruby eye flashed as he looked it over.
“Just as beautiful as the day it was made.” He hung it reverently on the only bare spot on the wall. “Now where are my hands?”
I stepped out of the way just in time. He barreled through the door, flinging the cloth aside. “Hands?”
Azazel stepped forward, offering the ripe-smelling bag.
Wayland tore it open and shook a rotting hand into his palm. He examined it just as intently as he had the mirror, and let out a loud “Hah!” when he was done.
Then he threw the hand in the lava. It caught fire, blackening as it slowly swallowed by the magma flow. The bag, with the other hand inside it, followed it.
I stared at the spot where they’d vanished. “Why did you want them if you were just going to set them on fire?”
“Oh, I just wanted to see the bitch burn.” He wiped his hands, looking satisfied. “I wouldn’t have asked you to transport her head. That’d make for a disgusting trip.”
“Oh, yeah, her disembodied, rotting hands weren’t any less disgusting,” I muttered, but the smith wasn’t listening, fortunately.
“And this is the ebonite?” He flipped the lock and opened the chest, letting out a happy sound. “I knew she was still hoarding it.”
He plucked a piece of raw ebonite out and peered at it through the ruby, then dropped it back in the chest. I reached into my pocket, found the small piece Visionary Xrita had given me, and dropped it in next to the other pieces. Even in a pocket warmed by my body, it was as cold as if it’d been laying in snow.
“Beautiful, beautiful,” he murmured, running his hands over the pieces. Then his eyes snapped up towards me. “Now come in, let’s discuss the final product.”
I stepped forward as Wayland gathered the chest, and he raised one of his numerous hands as Azazel stepped forward. “The commissioner only, please.”
I glanced over my shoulder and shrugged at the mutinous looks on their faces. “I’ll be right back out.”
I followed the smith back into the hut, lifting my wings high to avoid dragging them over any errant blades.
Wayland dropped the chest on a drafting table with a heavy bang. “So, you’re still wanting an inverse sword.”
I hesitated before nodding, long enough that the smith saw my reluctance.
Something had been gnawing on my mind since the Visionary had given me her prediction, an idea that had taken root with her words and had blossomed the longer I dwelled on the raw ebonite.
“Is what you told us about the essence of ebonite true?” I asked. “That you can create a concept from it?”
Wayland squinted at me. “Right. I could take this here ebonite-” he patted the chest fondly, “-and make, say, a sword meant to kill devils. Or a chain that could bind an angel. Or…”
His eyes shifted to the window, where Tascius was visible. His back was to us and his hair up, displaying the rough scars limning his spine.
I jerked at a pinch of pain in my wing, and my head jerked back towards the smith. He held up one of my small feathers, spinning it between two fingers.
“I could use one of these,” he whispered slyly. “And all this metal would want to fly.”
My breath was shallow.
A sword was only a sword.
A feather was more than a feather.
I could take the straight and obvious path- have Wayland the Smith forge the inverse sword.
Or I could take a leap of faith, even without seeing the bottom of the drop, and hopefully find the happiness the Visiona
ry spoke of.
After all, if a sword was a sword, and I’d held the Sword of Light once, I could do it again. For me, it was… just a sword. If I understood the Visionary right, I didn’t need the inverse.
At the very least, I should take the hint fate seemed to be offering me.
A feather was more than a feather; it was hope. It was giving up something I could use for my plans to make someone I loved happy.
I met the smith’s eyes across the anvil and nodded. He spun the feather again, a slow smile splitting his face.
“I will call for you when this beauty is done,” he said, and seemed to forget my presence immediately, rifling through the chest of ebonite and selecting certain pieces.
I left his hut, my chest tight. It was impossible to feel like I hadn’t somehow betrayed everything we worked for on a certain level, but I hoped they’d understand.
All I wanted was for everyone to be happy and whole again.
And if I needed to risk touching the Sword of Light again, then so be it. Maybe it’d find me pure of heart and accept my touch again.
Maybe it’d burn me to ashes on the spot.
I glanced down at my scarred palm as we flew. I didn’t think it would. Maybe it was a fool’s hope, but now that I’d wielded it once, I felt like the Sword knew me, in a way. It had left its scar on my palm.
Like it had marked me as worthy.
26
Melisande
I’d never felt so relieved to see the Nightside before. Being gone for just a week felt more like being gone for a thousand years, but everything was exactly as we’d left it.
Well, almost everything.
Along with my Chainlings, several of Belial’s Overseers were stationed around the walls of the arena, their red leather armor shining like splashes of blood in the twilight of the Nightside.
I frowned at one manning the gates, recognizing his boar snout. Tabor, the one who’d threatened to push me under the water if I didn’t comply with my first bath in the arena.
I waved at him and he snorted, shaking his head and making the ring in his nose flap.
At least Belial had offered extra protection for Vyra while we were gone. I was dying to go find him as soon as possible.
One of the Chainlings stationed outside started when she saw us walking up the street. She yanked open one of the iron gates, and I heard the sounds of shouting before we’d even stepped onto the pathway to the doors.
I glanced up at Lucifer, who shrugged, and pushed open one of the arena doors as quietly as I could, given its weight.
I didn’t even need to bother to be so careful. Nobody was looking at the doors.
The stands were filled with cheering fighters, and a throng of them were on the arena floor. An archery target had been set up on the opposite side of the arena, twenty yards away. It was already peppered with arrows and what looked like… smashed fruit?
What the hell were my people up to?
I caught a glimpse of Vyra sitting on the arena wall, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched the proceedings with utmost skepticism.
Haru was the center of attention. He was stripped to the waist and held a longbow, and one of the fighters stood in front of the archery target. Lady Savage balanced something small and round on top of the fighter’s bald head and backed away.
“Let’s see if you can hit a grape!” she crowed, returning to Blind Luck’s side. He looked just as skeptical as Vyra, shaking his head.
A grape? Had I heard that correctly?
Haru pulled a long, white-fletched arrow from a quiver and nocked it, looking almost lazy about taking aim. He loosed the arrow, and everyone screamed as it pierced the grape on top of the fighter’s head and buried it deeply in the target.
Haru handed off his bow and gave Vyra a breezy grin. “How’s that for skill?”
She was looking everywhere but at the kitsune, but I heard her mutter, “You just got lucky.”
Then her eyes swung towards the doors, clearly avoiding the sight of a half-naked Haru, and they widened when she saw us.
She jumped down from the wall and plunged through the crowd, barreling into me like a comet.
“You’re back! Oh thank fuck, you can take over dealing with him.” Vyra squeezed me hard, threatening to crush my ribs. Then she held me at arm’s length, looking at me quizzically. “Why are you back early?”
I jerked my head towards the stairs, and Vyra cast a quick glance at Haru before almost dragging me to them.
The kitsune’s eyes followed her all the way up. Lucifer, Tascius, and Azazel all approached him, waving me on to give me a moment alone with Vyra. They would get caught up on what ridiculous things these demons had been up to.
“He kept his hands to himself, right?” I scowled, wondering if I was going to have to kick his ass next.
“Yeah, but he’s always naked, and he’s got abs for days, and sometimes I wonder if I should ask Blind Luck to take out my eyeballs, too,” she muttered.
“So this is how everyone decided to entertain themselves? Shooting fruit off the top of people’s heads?”
Vyra raised an eyebrow. “Haru claimed it was a test of skill, but I think he was just showing off. If it makes you feel better, it hasn’t been all fun and games. Lady Savage has been, well, savage about getting the weaker warriors on a strict training schedule, and she’s pretty much bullied the other two generals into letting her do what she wants. They’ve been relegated to running the training classes.”
“A lot has happened in a week,” I said, following her into my room and stopping dead.
Whatever Vyra had been doing, she’d clearly spent a lot of time in here, probably avoiding Haru. And she’d been productive with it.
I had glittery purple curtains now, and several dress-forms had bits of fabric pinned to them. They were costumes very reminiscent of my time in Belial’s arena.
As soon as I thought of him, I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. A week had been too long, and I had some very sincere apologies to make.
“Where is Belial?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but Vyra shot me a look that told me she saw right through me.
“I have no idea. Nobody’s seen him since the day he left. I thought he might’ve decided to go with you.”
I stared at her. “He’s gone?”
I recalled what he’d said to me the day I’d headed out for the City of Sight, that he had a quest of his own.
Sudden panic ate at me. I clenched my hands, pacing the room. What if he was gone for another week? Several? A month?
Would he even care to hear me out at that point?
Vyra sank onto the bed, her hands in her lap. “If I knew where, I’d tell you, but… even his arena has been locked up and silent. If he’s there, his Overseers are refusing to admit to it.”
I sat next to her, feeling like drawing a full breath was impossible.
Then I realized I was being ridiculous myself. He knew we were coming back in two weeks at the most.
Another week was nothing. After everything I’d just seen, and here I was, moping because he wasn’t in Dis when I felt like he should be.
It was pathetic.
Still, acknowledging that I was being pathetic didn’t ease the sting entirely. I’d been practically counting down the minutes to seeing him again.
“Did he leave any hint at all?” I asked, hoping against hope that I didn’t seem desperate.
Vyra shook her head and my shoulders slumped.
“I’m being desperate and pathetic,” I muttered, and she wrapped her arm around my shoulders.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been waiting for literally weeks now for you two to make up, and of course when you’re finally ready, he’s not here.” She felt my hair, and an expression of abject horror crossed her face. “I know I sent some conditioner with you.”
“There weren’t many places to take a shower,” I said, feeling gloomier by the minute. She examined my hands next, including the b
roken nails still crusted with blood, and shuddered.
Vyra called in the shades and they practically threw me in the shower. I spent the next two hours under their hands, which should’ve given me time to come to terms with Belial’s absence, but instead, I experienced the opposite. I was more determined than ever to find him and make my thoughts clear. I’d kept them bottled up for long enough. I had my own cruel barbs to apologize for.
I was going to go to his arena and see if there was any sign at all of where he’d gone.
As soon as Vyra had put the final coat of lacquer on my newly-shortened nails, I got to my feet. I felt like a whole new angel after all the scrubbing and polishing, and for once my hair didn’t feel gritty from blowing sand and wind.
“I’m going to go find him.”
Vyra frowned at me and clasped a silver chain around my neck. “He’s not there, Melisande.”
“I know, but I need to see for myself and be absolutely sure. If he is there, maybe he wouldn’t turn me away.”
She smiled, but there was no conviction in it. “Well, let me know if he is.”
I swept from the room and almost ran right into Lucifer. His hair was still damp from his own shower, curling around his shoulders. He grabbed my arms, stopping me in my tracks, asking, “Where are you running to in such a hurry?”
At any other time, I would’ve been perfectly happy to enjoy the luxury of being home with him and a proper bed. He pushed me back against my door, already leaning down to kiss me, and my arms snaked around his neck of their own accord.
“Before you try to seduce me, I’m going to find Belial. He’s gone.”
Lucifer stopped only inches from my mouth, a frown creasing his brow. “Mmm. Explains why the city feels a little off-balance.”
I kissed him hard and pulled him inside my room. “Come with me. Let’s find him.”
Vyra waved as we strode to the windows. “I’ll let them know where you’ve gone.”
Lucifer and I jumped through the open windows, spreading our wings and taking flight before we hit the ground. We pushed into the air above the arena, and I glimpsed several more Overseers patrolling the arena battlements.