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Chapter Forty-Nine: Idixat Burns
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2021-10-13 22:05:12Madame 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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Ilyria looked at Astrapi. “The rest of the world seems ambitious,” she said, “Can we start with Idixat.” Astrapi shrugged as if it were all the same to him. “Come,” said Bonbon, assuming Madame Skia’s role, “Let us sit while we can.” Sidian lit the tapers around the room and a soft glow suffused the dining hall making it seem warm and welcoming. Except for the thuds and shouts and blows that still emanated from the streets of the city and that set the boarded windows to shuddering. Bonbon looked out the hall and reported back that the canopy had burned out. There were benefits to the stone structure of the House. They settled at their habitual places in the dining hall, too weary for more panic. By silent agreement, the head of the table was left for the Mogul. Astrapi declined a seat—his wings made him an uncomfortable partner at the table—and stayed near the door. “It started around a fortnight ago,” said Thas
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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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Ilyria held the token between her hands. At first nothing happened. There was no mist. The ground beneath her feet was still the stone of the House of Madame Skia, and when she looked up and looked around, she saw … … the faces of her friends as though through a dark veil. They stared toward her but no longer at her. She saw Flame’s confusion. She watched Fierce flapping and hovering, claws outstretched. Fierce was just outside the veil and Ilyria knew that she would be able to pass through. “No, Fierce,” she said, and her voice echoed in the strange space. Her breath came in puffs of white cloud as though it were cold, yet her skin prickled with moisture and warmth. Fierce tilted her head, then flapped a few more times and went to settle on Miasma’s shoulder. Miasma winced as Fierce settled by making biscuits with her paws. She is no dragon, thought Ilyria, all cat. Ilyria turned in the darkening space, her steps sounding muffled against th
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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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“I did not want you to take on that journey to Utzed,” said Astrapi, beginning his story, “But you were so angry with me, I knew you wouldn’t listen, so I joined the caravan as Suluu. It was easy enough as long as I didn’t let Thassa see me.” “You believe I am the one to find Nicos on my own, but you didn’t believe I could be the one to find Utzed?” Ilryia was no longer angry, just incredulous. Astrapi’s concern for her sometimes showed itself in strange ways. Or not at all. Like when he had left her on Yxat. “I’m sorry,” said Astrapi, “I know this is hard to follow at times, but I’m learning about you as we go. I am always amazed by you.” Ilyria tried not to show how much his praise meant to her but then gave up and grinned happily at him. “Me too, actually,” she said. “I’m also sometimes amazed by me.” They laughed together, Ilyria snorting flower tea from her nose which made them laugh even more. They settled again, leaning t
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Astrapi was shouting something at her, but she could not hear him over the sound of the sandstorm. Her ears were filled with the shifting, sighing sand that felt as if it coated every inch of her. Beneath her scarf she licked her lips and her tongue came away coated with it. So far, Menos was more like the City of Sand than the City of Earth. Astrapi was still shouting and she turned her head, to see him, irritated as the tiniest exposed parts of her skin were strafed. He was holding up his arm and pointing at it. His arm? He wanted to show her something on his arm? Her arm. Of course, the codes. It would be impossible to bring out the map in this storm though so what good would the codes be. She held up her arm, shaking her head and as she did so, the sleeve fell. Something bright red and blinking shot out from her arm and hovered directly in front of her face. Astrapi was nodding and gesturing with his hand to move forward. She took a step and the b
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Ilyria and Astrapi rose higher and higher as the ground beneath them churned. The garden was gone, the changing city made of sand was gone. Even the sandstorm that had swirled around the city building and rebuilding the spires and domes and craters, had dwindled. Where once there had been buildings there were now only waves blowing across the desert sands. With Astrapi’s hands around her waist, and her feet tucked around his, she pushed up her sleeve. The skin there was smooth and pale and absolutely blank. She turned her head in a panic. “Astrapi,” she said, “Look!” But Astrapi was struggling to hold both her and the harness. The bag holding the seedling swayed wildly and Ilyria was afraid it would fall. If it fell to the earth below, it would be lost. Astrapi nodded. He had seen it too. They had to find somewhere safe and soon. Either of them would be able to conjure a path back to the aerie. But then they would lose time travelling to the n
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“What in Oren’s name was that?” said Ilyria, fighting to control her temper. There was no time for it. They had a job to do here, and they were down to roughly three days by her calculation in which to do it. “You were laying unconscious one minute in a ridiculous room full of mirrors and now you are here? What is going on? Is this what you had pictured?” Astrapi held up his hands in surrender. “Forgive me, Ilyria,” he said, his tone contrite, “This,” he said turning around and gesturing toward the hall around them, “This is what I remembered, this where I tried to take us.” Ilyria’s anger abated as she saw that Astrapi’s apology was genuine. “I remembered too late about the defense system. And then,” he smiled at her, “I remembered that you would figure it out and that there was nothing to worry about.” “What kind of a defense system is a room full of mirrors?” said Ilyria, “And what if I had not?” There was a brief flicker of worry across As
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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
