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Chapter Forty-Five: A Strange Box
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2021-10-05 22:51:48Ilyria sat down in the grass next to the Mogul.
“What are you doing?” she asked. Her voice sounded muffled.
“I have to fix it,” said the Mogul.
“Fix what,” said Ilyria, trying to see what he was working on.
“I have to fix it,” said the Mogul again. He went on to repeat these words over and over as his long slim fingers continued their tireless obsessive task.
The box was made of an ashy wood and consisted of four sliding panels. The Mogul had one panel open and was working at the delicate set of gears it revealed. Peering over his shoulder, she saw that the gears were not working. The missing part was the fragile chain that the Mogul held between his thumb and forefinger. Ilyria held her breath while he tried again and again to thread the chain over the gears. When, finally it was done, she exhaled. He turned the box to access the next sliding panel. They both heard the little jingle against the wooden floor of the box as the chain fell off th
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The box, hovered above the dazed siren, giving off a low hum. And within the safety of that hum, Ilyria could no longer hear the siren’s voices. It seemed neither could the Mogul. He scratched his head and looked at her, then looked away. Mortified, Ilyria realized she was naked again. She stretched out her hand. “Please may I have some clothes?” The Mogul quickly shed his tunic but kept his pants. His bare chest was thin and sparsely covered with grey hairs, his face thin to the point of emaciation. His skin hung loosely and was tinged with yellow. Ilyria realized with alarm that he looked old and sick. Looking at him now, she realized that he must be the same age her father would have been. Subjected to months of this ordeal, he had suffered. Could he still save Idixat? Was this the man who would restore true justice to her home? Meanwhile the hum had disoriented the sirens who, though they had formed a circle around Mogul and Ilyria, seemed unable
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The queen snapped her fingers and Fierce appeared in front of her, her four paws splayed, teeth bared and wings spread. She hissed at the queen. Ilyria rushed forward to pick her up but the panicked kitten heard only movement behind her and lashed out with her tail which had grown to twice the length of her body and was covered in sharp scales. Ilyria screamed in pain. Her kitten had grown. She sank to her knees. “Fierce,” she whispered, “Fierce it’s me.” At the sound of her voice, the little creature stopped fighting thouth her teeth were still bared and her eyes still shone with yellow fire. It was all Ilyria could do to keep her nerve. She held out her hand. The fire went out in Fierce’s eyes. She closed her wings and trotted over to Ilyria, head-bumping her hands and purring in happiness. Ilyria’s eyes teared up. She had not lost Fierce. “She’s not a dragon,” said Ilyria, stroking Fierce’s head and scratching her back between t
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The shield around them wavered as conflicting emotions ran through Ilyria. Astrapi felt like home to her and that made no sense. She was angry with him because she could not trust him and that did make sense. But then she was also confused because she was the only who seemed to think there was anything trustworthy or even worthwhile in him. The shield faded and blinked but stayed in place. Madame Skia, with her sister’s body still in her arms looked up at Ilyria. “No, Ilyria,” she said, “I beg of you. Do not trust him. Listen to me. He is Zlo’s twin.” Astrapi stood before the shield but seemed not to be able to see beyond it. As it wavered, he leaned closer, as though he knew something was there. He reached out and touched it, then grimaced in pain and quickly withdrew his hand. Ilyria concentrated and the shield glowed once more, steady. But she was growing tired and without the queen to help, she and Madame Skia would not be able to hold it for long.
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Madame Skia helped Ilyria to thread the path through whirling mists of enchantment, each holding clearly in her own mind, the vision of the House to which they needed and wanted to return, each feeling her own sense of anticipation, fear and relief. Ilyria knew it as home because that was where the companions were. Her friends. Though she blushed now to think of the Miasma she had known in Utzed, the fantasy produced by the sirens. As though in response, she heard the soft voices somewhere in the mist, then Thassa’s gruff tones. Fierce dug her claws into Ilyria’s shoulder. Madame Skia stopped and Ilyria paused with her. Ilyria knew that Madame Skia wanted more than anything to return to Nicos—her love—and to her sisters, and the companions. The home she had built from nothing. But she had her love and her duty toward her slain sister. Madame Skia smiled at Ilyria. “Tell him I will be home soon,” she said. Ilyria nodded, feeling her eyes tear up. There was no
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“So how will you get there?” asked Miasma, her eyes were wide and frightened in dim room. The noises from the street had subsided a little but it felt like only a pause. Like the quiet in the storm between thunderclaps. “You cannot go out there.” Ilyria looked at Astrapi. “Miasma is right. I need help getting to the Palace,” said Ilyria. “Can’t you just,” said Flame, standing and stretching her back with a crack. Fierce looked up drowsily from where she was now sleeping on the floor. Flame waved her hands around, “I don’t know, make magick to get there like you did to get here?” “It only works if I know the place I’m going to very well. I must be able to visualize it clearly. That’s why it’s always easiest for me to come back here. It’s the place I find most easy to think of.” Especially when she was scared or sad or angry. When does a place become a home? And when does love turn to deception. Was Suluu a deception? Ilyria stood and walked ove
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“Suluu,” she said. Though her mind was racing she could not find the words to say to the man who had spent intimate days, weeks with. The man who she had even considered having a baby with. The man who she had betrayed Astrapi with. “Ilyria,” said Suluu. His voice cracked and she saw his need. Why do you stay away from me, his grey eyes seemed to ask, why do you not run toward me? She remembered the feel of the water against their skins. It was the last true memory. The water at the oasis. The feel of his mouth catching the water droplets that ran down her skin. The cool night air on their bodies. And then he was gone. She could not bring herself to recall the time lost in Utzed. That was an illusion that felt unfair. A conjuring of the twisted minds of the sirens. Not what she had wanted, Madame Skia had been wrong. The sirens had taken her loves and turned them all into physical desire only. There was so much more. She looked at Suluu standing in hi
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Ilyria woke to the smell of warm bread and blossoming plants, and another damp salty smell she could not recognize. She sighed and turned over. Her eyes flickered half-open as she felt Suluu’s warm body lying on his back next to her. Her hand lazily traced the contours of his smooth chest, delighting in the way his skin puckered beneath her fingers. He turned to look at her, his lips parted in a smile and his eyes hooded with his desire. “Hello,” he murmured, pulling her toward him, “You’re awake.” “I am,” she said, tracing her fingers over his lips. Then her stomach rumbled noisily, “and I am so, so, so, so hungry!” She sat up trying to recall when last she had eaten and suddenly a rush of images flooded over her. She sank her face into her hands. Astrapi, impaled. The Princess and Zlo’s blood dripping from the spines of The Shackled One. Madame Skia’s wounded body lying shrouded by the shimmering moon dust. The monster’s final moments. She looked up
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The monster reached out a nightmarish tendril, twisted and hard and riddled with fungus. The tendril scratched Ilyria under the chin as an overly familiar uncle might and she gagged on the smell of rotten animal flesh. “You don’t look like him at all,” said The Shackled One, “Lucky for you. We hated him for what he did to us.” “Us? There is more than one of you?” “Us,” said The Shackled One, and dark spikes shot out from its body, impaling the Princess and Zlo. A spike missed the Mogul only because Loulou had pushed him out of the way. They stood open-mouthed with dread and fear as the Princess and Zlo twisted and writhed on the spikes, howling in agony, their blood dripping to the ground beneath them. Thassa ran to the frozen pair and pulled them away. Think, Ilyria, what does it want? came Madame Skia’s question. Ilyria tried not to hear the howls of the Princess and her son. She looked around for Madame Skia the darkness was so com
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They all heard it making its way. The ground rumbled with its passage as the Sister Moon shone down with relentless brightness, Brother Moon no longer able to temper her cold light. And Ilyria saw her own fear reflected in the faces of her friends. Even the sirens cowered, and Madame Skia looked uncertain which was maybe the most terrifying thing of all. What could be worse than Zlo? Ilyria knew. It was the thing that Zlo feared. The thing that lived deep within his own dark tower. She looked at the Princess. The Princess knew too. Her face had turned so pale, it seemed to reflect that horrifying moonlight. Suddenly the Princess reached out one hand and the crowd of sirens parted around her as if she had sliced through them. She curled her fingers, and the Mogul was dragged through the mud toward her. He twisted and turned reaching out for Loulou. Loulou, her cheeks flushed, tried to follow but the Princess flung her away with a flick of the other hand. She lifted her summon
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Then the air was torn apart by a woman’s scream. It was filled with such rage that every one of them who heard it fell to their knees with their hands over their ears, desperate for it to stop. Zlo alone stood, his head bowed as the Princess appeared beside him. She was beautiful and terrifying in her anger. She appeared to float off the floor, her white robes billowing around her, her long, burnished hair streaming as though she were the wind itself. Behind her stood Nicos, his expression glazed. His hands hung at his sides. He appeared to see and hear nothing. “Fool,” said the Princess to Zlo, “I did everything to help you. I sent him away,” she tilted her head toward the Mogul, “I distracted the brothers and the stupid girl-child Magoses with their little quest. I sowed division and strife. I ensured the Laws were broken. All you had to do was make sure they,” here she swept her arm around to indicate Astrapi, the companions, Thassa, Miasma and Ilyria, “were all h
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Astrapi fell, Bonbon fell. Sidian, Flame and Loulou, they all fell. But it was not with the bone-rending shatter that Ilyria, Miasma and Thassa anticipated. Thassa, with his arms outstretched was surprised to find them filled with soft, warm, living, breathing Bonbon. Ilyria cried out as Astrapi landed with the thud and slap of flesh hitting floor. Likewise, the other companions, released from their marble prisons, fell to the rumbling, caving floor with cries of surprise and pain. Except for Bonbon whose tears were of joy to be in her lover’s arms. Ilyria had no time to feel bad about her inaction for the white roof and shattered walls of the reception chamber fell away as easily as if the marble had no more substance than eggshell. The smell of the garden filled the space but instead of the intoxicating perfume of earlier, it smelled as over-sweet and rotten, like over-ripe fruit. She held her hand up to her nose. The marble floor beneath their feet dissolved into the dark
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Ilyria kept her eyes on Astrapi even as she felt Zlo feeding off her pain. Her limbs grew numb and heavy as Zlo drew all that heartache from her. Ilyria willed Astrapi to open his eyes. Just show me you are alive, she thought, If I know you are alive, then I can do anything, I can … A soft hand on her arm and she groped blindly for Miasma. Miasma took her hand and stood on her one side and as she did so, Thassa took her hand on the other. She was not alone. Somehow, miraculously, she was not alone. She felt the blood return to her limbs and they tingled almost painfully with the returning pain. She would claim it back from Zlo. It was not his to steal. A rumble and the marble walls and floor shook. The three stood firm. “Look,” whispered Miasma, “They are all here.” Ilyria tore her eyes from Astrapi and looked around them. On the walls were each of her friends. Captured in attitudes of struggle, their faces bore the signs of their to
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A woman at the back of the procession gave a long guttural howl. Every hair on Ilyria’s body stood on end. “Use the glamour,” said Miasma, “Help me, use the glamour.” “And do what?" said Ilyria, "Where do we even go?” Aerie? No then they would be too far away. They had to be in the Palace. Palace? What part of the Palace? The Princess’s chambers? The Princess’s garden? She felt for the token in her pocket already knowing it wasn’t there and that she wouldn’t use it even if she had it. The Princess, she decided, could not be trusted. Vatra? Yakip?No. They had to be here. “Make a run for it,” said Thassa, readying himself as if to do just that. The procession moved with purpose now, bearing down on them. Their fac
