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Chapter Nineteen: Love and a Map
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2021-08-24 21:00:23Once Ilyria had drawn Astrapi inside the cave, she turned and walked to the bed where she had woken the first time he brought her. The light from thousands of fireflies on the cave ceiling, flickered off Astrapi’s skin as he followed her. He stood before her and like her, seemed to be holding his breath.
“Ilyria,” he started to say, and she heard the question there. She put her finger against his lips. It was no longer the time for talking. She thought briefly of the night weeks ago when she was to be married to Dirk. She would have had to have this moment with a man she loathed. She was sure of what she wanted.
She wished she was wearing the midnight hued cloud silk dress. She wished it would show her in its way, how to act. She wished she had perfumed her body with oils. Instead, she stood in front of Astrapi in a simple tunic she had changed into after helping to clean the House. What would the dress have done? Something complicated that involved slapping her legs
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Ilyria froze. It could not be. Surely this was not her mother? The exquisite Daria Agrio? Ruin of souls. Torment of men and women. The old woman reached out a hand for the wall to steady herself. She looked up and Daria saw her eyes were pale and glassy. She seemed drugged, ill, dying even. She did not see Ilyria, or anything at all. Yet the lines of Daria’s beautiful face were still there, stark beneath the withered flesh but still recognizable. What had Dirk done to her mother? Say something, she told herself. This is your mother. But the nausea had returned, and she found herself unable to hold onto her thoughts. Something about a mother. Whose mother? My mother, this is my mother. Ilyria clutched the map to her chest as if it might still hold some of the protective magic from her father’s chambers. And maybe it did, because her head cleared a little. Her mother opened her mouth and Ilyria saw that all her pretty white teeth were gone, leaving only
Last Updated : 2021-08-25Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Twenty-One: An Urgent Plan
Ilryia clawed at the hands around her neck, her feet kicking out. She felt her face swelling with blood, her eyes streaming. She could barely see anymore, but she could see enough to know that that Dirk was no longer just Dirk. The strength in his one hand was terrifying. Her fingers could find no purchase on that iron grip. He squeezed tighter and a thought came to Ilyria of a twig snapping from a tree. He could kill her easily. But he was not done toying with her. “You stink of him,” said the Dirk-thing. “You stink like a whore.” He grinned Dirk’s grin with the snaggle-tooth catching his lower lip, but his eyes were not Dirk’s. Not even close. They were blacker than a starless night. She felt her head buzzing and her vision faded. She came to coughing and spluttering on the cold stone in front of Dirk’s boots. One boot reached back and almost in slow motion, it came toward her then connected with her jaw, sending her sprawling on her back. She heard a cry. She thou
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“We have to rescue them first. I have to go back,” said Ilyria, taking the map from Astrapi. As she began to roll it up, something caught her eye. She looked closely. At first, she thought it might be a smudge, but the line was clear not smudged. Then she thought it was a tracing, the faint ghost of a line left by the cartographer either when they were making this map or perhaps another with this one carelessly left underneath. Then, she knew. Excited, she scanned the map again. She found the ‘A’ in the top right corner of the map. “You said Benguzi is south, but this shows Benguzi as south-east?” Astrapi tilted his head in his questioning way, “What if this isn’t the real map?” “There is another map?” “Yes,” she said, “underneath this one. Imagine if the person who created the map of the lost cities wanted to keep it hidden, but they also wanted someone to find it.” “That doesn’t make sense,” said Astrapi. “Astrapi,” Ilyria tried not to let h
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“Astrapi,” she whispered, trying not to panic at the sight of his pale face. He did not answer or look at her. “Astrapi,” she said again. He glanced at her quickly, then understanding what she needed, his hands worked to help her to loosen herself from the harness, still staring ahead. As soon as she was free, she turned to see what he was seeing. Now it was no longer so thrilling to be standing on a glass floor in the clouds. Now, she felt afraid and vulnerable. She felt in her pocket for the switchblade. Her eyes once again had to make the adjustment for the glass. From where she stood, she was staring into thunderclouds as dark as night. She could hardly make out any shapes at all until slowly the archway emerged and beneath the archway …She gasped and clutched at Astrapi’s arm. For she saw him now. A winged man, his outline barely visible against the dark clouds behind him. “Nemachi,” said Astrapi under his breath, his voice raspy with anger. Then, his fists clen
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Ilyria clamped her hand over her mouth, trying not to call out to the man. He sounded so desperate, so afraid, she wanted to let him know he was not alone. But that voice inside her warned her to listen more closely. So, she did. She once more heard the man’s groan. But there was also something else underneath. She held her breath as she listened, trying to picture the silence as something physical, a curtain that only had to be pulled back. The man groaned again, and the whispers grew more excited. It was as if the whispers carried the sound of the man’s voice. That was it! Ilyria was certain the whisperers had replicated the sound and were trying to lure her away from the path she needed to take. Fumbling in the dark, she felt the walls around her. There was the path ahead, from which came the moans and the frightening whispers. And there was the path behind from which she had just come. There had to be an alternative. A path the whisperers did not want her to take.
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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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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
