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Chapter Sixty-Seven: Ceremony
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2024-10-29 19:42:56Miasma looked at Thassa who lifted his shoulders in a tired shrug.
"The last time we saw Fierce was after Thassa gave her the collar and she went to find you,” she said to Ilyria. “She wasn’t there with you I think.”
Ilyria shook her head. “No, she took off when I left the guardhouse at the gate.”
“Ilyria,” said Miasma, she put a hand on Ilyria’s shoulder and Ilyria had a brief half-memory of happy smells, of home and rest and kindness. She sighed and allowed herself to be comforted by Miasma. “Fierce will be okay. She is … Fierce,” Miasma smiled and Ilyria felt a little less anxious in spite of herself, “But now we really must go.”
The three hurried along the dark streets, the sounds ahead of them becoming louder and more disturbing. Ilyria had though the procession was never ending with its clanging cymbals and drums and the odd trumpet. But as they progressed along the streets and the sun’s rays illuminated their path, she saw signs that the proces
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For a while as they walked, Ilyria wondered if the sounds they were hearing were just some sort of auditory hallucination. The streets around them were empty. The houses with their shattered windows and burst open doors showed traces of the violence that had been there, but they too were empty. The sounds they heard were always just ahead. Peta would not leave Miasma’s side which Ilyria thought was understandable. He shadowed Miasma's every step. And in turn, Ilyria shadowed him, uncertain when he might turn again into a channel for the thing that may yet be powerful even than Zlo. It had said of the ceremony that “it is ours”. Now Ilyria puzzled over what that meant. “Mia,” said Ilyria, keeping an eye on Peta but hurrying to Miasma’s other side. “You said that I’m …” she glanced at the boy not wanting to say the word, “… of Izben and you of Menos.” “Magos?” said Miasma with a smile. Ilyria need not have worried. Peta continued treading dully, apparen
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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
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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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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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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
