Arrival (21 page)

“I doubt you’ll get much out of them—they’re averse to helping those not of their faith.”

Fern shrugged. “We may as well try. It’s better than heading off in the wrong direction and wasting time.”

They rode on horses from the fortress this time, none of them relishing the thought of taking that long, vulnerable walk through the jungle again. They had been assured that they would not be attacked during the day as the Amazonian trainees had never had any trouble. Ria felt cold as she tried to think of a reason why the Phaeries would attack them.

Ria rode a white gelding. Fern sat atop Nuitdor, stroking her every moment he had a free hand.

They rode hard to the temple and dismounted quickly. As they entered, Ria caught a glimpse of the interior of the temple. The roof—a giant dome—and the walls were completely covered in an awesome mosaic of rich colours and patterns. Everywhere Ria looked was a depiction of The Great Battle. It was as though she was caught within it.

“How can this be here?” Fern asked.

Thousands of years ago, everything to do with The Great Battle—any picture, any book, anything that told of it—had been destroyed in the aftermath as the orders had deemed it. It had been wiped from Paragor as if it had never happened.

And yet, here it was. Men of Paragor, fighting and dying for their world, against an inhuman foe, a creature they simply named the Scourge.

After a time, when Ria could finally drag her eyes away, she noticed that Jane had sunk to her knees and was looking at the mosaic with such shock that the rest of them wondered.

Only Fey was not surprised to see the mosaic, for she had been here many times. She moved forward and called out. A stout man emerged seconds later in a stiff grey robe. He had a large tattoo of a sun on his forehead, and did not look pleased to see them.

“Why have you come back?” he asked suspiciously eyeing the travellers. “I told you I could not help you with your bedding.” He did not seem surprised to see their reaction to the mosaic. Jane was on her feet again, but still looked in wonder at The Great Battle.

“Yes you did tell us that, and we were nearly killed trying to make it to the fortress last night,” Fey said mildly. “We want to know if you can help us in another way.”

The priest shook his head and began to protest, but Fey interrupted. “What can you tell us about
The Book of the Dead?
Don’t pretend you don’t know of it, because I know that you do.”

Fey knew how to handle weak-minded priests. The priest answered sulkily, “Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t think our reasons concern you. Just tell us, or you will find yourself on the end of my blade.” Fey touched the long knife at her side.

The man looked shocked, “What do you need to know?”

“Anything you can tell us,” Fern answered.

“The book is evil. It should never be used. It holds far too much power for mere men to wield. It delves into deep magic, spiritual realms.” He gave a little shudder. “Ra does not approve of it, and anyone who tries to meddle with the magic of the gods will be punished for all of eternity. Sent straight to hell to be—”

“All right, I think that’s enough,” Fern cut in. “Where do the Phaeries live?”

At the mention of the creatures, the ever-pious man made the sign of the sun disk and looked around warily. “You should not speak of such creatures—you will call them forth.”

Fey waved her knife in front of the man’s face. He broke into a nervous sweat.

“They live in the centre of the island. That is all I can tell you. Now leave this place before they come here,” he said, his eyes wide with fear.

Fern led the party outside where they held a brief counsel.

“Why didn’t you pester him some more?” Harry asked.

“There is nothing more in the man,” Fern replied. “We will just have to head towards the centre of the island. Fey have you ever been there?”

“No, or else I would have seen the Phaeries. We’ll go southwest and we’ll get there eventually.”

“Eventually,” Blaise spat. “We don’t have eventually. We must ride hard.” The outburst was unexpected. He had been silent all morning.

“We’ll be all right,” Fern assured him. “Let’s ride now, quick as we can.”

They rode at a canter, the thick jungle blocking out the light. By the time it was midday they stopped to rest. Jane was not as comfortable on a horse as the rest of them and her legs and backside were aching terribly.

They didn’t meet any Phaeries along the way.

They ate the food packed by the Amazonians, dry biscuits and fruit. The difficult ride and stress of the journey had begun to take its toll. They each drank deeply from a canteen of water before mounting their horses once more. Not long after they started to ride they ran into trouble.

The six turned onto a path that ran through the centre of two huge rocks that blotted out the sky.

It was dark like night along the path. They slowed to a walk to pass through the rocks, unable to see an arms-length in front. A loud voice echoed off the walls around them.

“Halt!”

It was too dark to see who had made the noise, so they did as they were told. A torch was lit, and a little man came into view.

He was holding the torch in one hand, and a large club in the other. He looked as though he would only stand as high as Ria’s waist, but he was wide and thick—sturdy on his feet, which were spread wide. He smiled up at them all and said in a huge voice that did not really fit the size of him, “Good day to you, large people.

One riddle I have, for you to solve,

But if you can’t then I’m afraid you’ll be told,

That your resolve, will be in a state of dissolve.”

A gleeful cackle echoed off the rock walls around them. The group peered at the dwarf in confusion. Ria understood that he had a riddle for them, but she didn’t know what would happen if they refused, or gave the wrong answer.

“Tell us your riddle, then,” she said, and this made the dwarf cackle even harder.

“A clever one she is, but can she save her friends from their awful demise?”

“What happens if we are wrong?” Ria asked him.

“Why, if you are incorrect,

your death will be swift.

You may walk away now,

if a coward you are.

If it is to pass that you seek,

then listen I heed.”

“Can any of us solve the riddle?” Fern asked him.

“If you think you can,” came the gleeful answer.

“May we have time to speak between us?” Fern asked politely and was rewarded with a nod. They quickly back-tracked out from between the rocks.

“What the hell is that thing?” Jane hissed.

“It’s a dwarf,” Fern informed her. “They’re rare, and known for their trickery. They can be extremely dangerous.”

“There is an arrow in my quiver with his name on it,” Corte said, but Fern shook his head.

“I say we take the riddle, and see if we can solve it. If we can’t then I’ll have to knock him out as we pass. There’s no other way through—the rocks are too wide; it would take forever to go around. Agreed?”

Ria nodded along with the rest of them, but Blaise muttered something about wasting time.

“Give us the riddle then,” Fern called out, and the dwarf grinned from ear to ear.

“I am the giver of life, and the bringer of death.

I am hated and feared by everything living,

Though they need me above all else.

Nothing can stop me, and nothing can start me.

What am I?”

The group lapsed into a thoughtful silence. Ria was thinking hard.

“Could we have the riddle again, sir?” she asked after a moment. The dwarf looked at her and then smiled.

“Of course you can, my clever one.” They listened intently as he spoke the words again. Ria swallowed in frustration. She willed herself to be calm and think carefully, but she couldn’t help but think of how much time they were wasting.

“That’s it!” she cried in delight. “Time. You are time.” The others looked at her, and then at the dwarf. He stared at Ria for a long moment, and she had the sudden thought that she might have been wrong, and they were about to die because of her stupidity.

But then he said, “Clever One, I first called you. And clever you truly are. You may pass.”

It wasn’t until they were out the other side of the two rocks that they felt safe enough to speak.

“How did you find that answer?” Fern asked her.

“It was a piece of luck,” Ria admitted somewhat ruefully.

“Well, it was luck none of us had. You saved our lives, Ria,” he said, smiling fondly at her.

“You would have gotten us through anyway,” she said, fiddling with her horse’s bridle.

“You are now officially the smart one of our band of merry men.” Jane smiled. Ria urged her horse forward to cover her embarrassment.

It was not long before they reached the Phaerie camp.

As the travellers made their way through the jungle towards the Phaerie camp, Jane thought about the mosaic. The minute she saw it, a feeling had hit her, and she’d gasped aloud. It was not awe, or just being overwhelmed, as the others had felt. It was not fear or sorrow at what was being depicted. Rather, Jane felt a deep recognition, and it was this that had brought her to her knees.

For a moment, on first sight, she didn’t know why or how, but she knew that she’d seen the mosaic before.

Fern was at her side after a while, when he could drag his own eyes away from the sight.

“How is this possible?” she whispered.

The images had stayed with her. When she should have been pondering the riddle, when she should have been riding with a bit more care, when she should have been preparing herself for the camp.

That’s how it came to be that she was taken unawares when Fern ordered a halt, somehow knowing exactly where to stop so that they wouldn’t enter the Phaerie’s camp unawares.

“Not a sound from any one of you,” he said, looking at each of them in turn until they nodded.

Fern looked to Blaise and whispered, “Come with me. You know what to do.” Blaise nodded with a slight curl of his lip and melted silently into the bushes after the prince.

Jane, Fey, Ria and Corte sat in silence, trying not to move. They couldn’t see anything around them except the trees, but when Jane strained, she could hear something in front of them. She remembered the yellow eyes peering down at her from high in the trees, and a tiny tendril of fear made its way into her stomach.

After a long while, the two Elves materialised from out of the bushes.

Fern motioned for them all to lean in. “We saw the book. It’s right in the centre of the camp. It’s not going to be easy, there are guards stationed around it.”

“How many?” Corte asked quietly.

Fern sighed and a dark look crossed his face.

“We counted sixty in full view,” he whispered. “Ten around the book. There could be more.” In the deep silence that followed, they could make out the faint sounds of Phaeries screaming and laughing.

Jane shuddered. “What do we do?” she asked and hoped the others could not hear the uncertainty in her voice.

Fern regarded her steadily. “If they see us, we’ll be killed. There are tree branches hanging low over the book. Is there someone nimble of foot who can climb?”

After a moment, Blaise spoke softly. “I can climb well. It is a skill of mine.”

Fern nodded. “Blaise, your Elvish blood alone means you would be the pick of all of us. You must do it soundlessly. The rest of us will wait someplace where we can see. Blaise—do not let them see you, or they will kill you. If they capture you, we will just have to charge them, and hope to be able to get out of there.”

Blaise nodded. But then he said, “If they capture me, you must leave me, and find another way to get the book.”

The two men stared at each other, and Jane wondered at the meaning behind that look. After a time, the prince nodded and Jane closed her eyes.

“Before we go,” Fern continued. “I think I should warn you. The Phaeries, they are ... eating at the moment.”

“Won’t that make it easier for us to get the book?” Corte asked.

“Yes,” Fern replied with a wince, “but their eating habits will be somewhat, distracting ... for us. Phaeries eat human flesh. At the moment they are eating one of the priests from the temple.”

They filed off quietly leaving their horses on the path, tethered to some trees. Every step brought them closer to the camp, and the sounds of screaming grew louder.

After a few minutes, Jane had to cover her ears, as they came to the edge of the clearing and the noise became deafening. They squatted and peered through the bushes. And the sight made Jane want to vomit.

She quickly shut her eyes so as not to look at the barely recognisable body on the ground. The man’s skin had been ripped off, and the body no longer had any ears, fingers, or toes.

Ria’s gasp was quickly stifled by Fern. He then pointed out the tree. A long thick branch hung lower than the rest, and a little closer to the plinth where the book sat. The branch did not look thick enough to hold a man’s weight. Jane realised she should have gone—she was lighter than Blaise.

Blaise nodded when he spotted the tree and without a word he turned and slunk away. Within moments, they saw him high up in the branches. He climbed swiftly and nimbly, his lithe, muscled body like a monkey’s. And silent—he was so silent Jane didn’t know how it was physically possible.

Blaise looked down at the group and waited for Fern’s signal. Looking back at the camp, Jane could see that most of the group were occupied with eating, and those who weren’t were watching their companions jealously and scrambling violently into the fray.

Fern gave the signal and they watched breathlessly as Blaise edged out over the branch until he was halfway to the book. There was a dip in the branch, and he began to slow, realising that this was the weak point. But for all his nimble, graceful, silent movements, he was too heavy. The branch creaked, and began to bend under the Elf’s weight.

Blaise froze and waited to make sure that none of the Phaeries had noticed. He then made his way even more slowly along the branch. With each movement, the branch bent a bit lower.

Fern hissed in Jane’s ear, “This isn’t going to work, they’re sure to see him!”

Jane looked at him and was shocked at the hatred on his face as he watched the creatures.

Then in a move that surprised her no end, he turned to her and asked, “Jane, will you have me if I leave Athena?”

She stared at him. “What? Fern this isn’t the time for that!” she said incredulously.

“Yes or no?” he said more determinedly.

“You’re crazy!” she said.

“Just answer the damn question, Jane!”

“Yes, of course, Fern. You know I will, but I thought we agreed we couldn’t—”

Fern nodded and interrupted her, “Good. I will hold you to that. Never, ever give up, Jane. Never.” Then he pressed his lips hard against hers—not at all in the way she had imagined their first kiss might be—stood up quietly and disappeared into the jungle. Jane was left to look at the bushes where he had pushed through and rub her lips, wondering what had just happened. What the hell was he doing?

A sense of foreboding dawned on Jane even before she realised what was happening. A deep feeling of dread was in her heart. Something was wrong.

And then the branch gave out a sharp crack. Jane held her breath and Ria put a hand over her mouth. But the sound wasn’t noticed, for all of a sudden there was a man charging through the camp on horseback.

Fern had his sword raised high above his head and was swiftly killing the Phaeries below him with huge cutting blows. Their meal was forgotten as they drew their own weapons.

Fern turned and, rearing his horse, entered the fray once more.

“What’s he doing?” Ria hissed.

They watched in horror as Fern took on seventy savage Phaeries single-handedly.

“We must help him!” Corte said, but Fey was behind him.

“No. He risked himself so that we could get the book and get away.”

“But he’ll be killed!” Corte hissed.

“It is better for one to die, than for six,” Fey said grimly.

Jane could not believe what she had just heard. Rage seethed within her and, turning to Fey, she slapped her face.

“How could you say such a thing?” Jane hissed.

Fey did not make a sound, but clasped part of her shirt to her nose to stem the flow of blood. She was looking coldly at Jane. The others seemed shocked beyond words. Jane couldn’t care less what they thought—she’d never been so terrified in all her life.

In all the commotion, Blaise had made it back to the group and was holding the book in his hands. It was big and black, with gold script on the front that Jane couldn’t read. She looked at Corte and said, “Give me a sword.” He hesitated.

He was about to obey when Fey said, “Don’t even think about it Corte. We have to get out of here.” She looked at Jane, her eyes cold. “Don’t you understand? He only did this so that he could save you. If you get yourself killed, then he gave his life for nothing.”

“He’s not dead yet!” Jane cried.

“We must leave, Jane,” Blaise said quietly, his accent thick. She looked to where Fern was fighting. He was covered in blood. His left arm hung limp at his side, but he fought on. He had killed a huge number of Phaeries, and they were having trouble getting to him through the bodies on the ground. Still, he was slowly being overcome. The Phaeries were completely oblivious to the fact that their book had been stolen. Fern had done his job well.

Then, in a pause in the flow of attackers, Fern looked over to where the group were squatting in the grass. His eyes met Jane’s, and he angrily mouthed the word, ‘go’. It was all he had time for—a blade slid into his unprotected left side. With a look of surprise on his face he was pulled from Nuitdor and Jane lost sight of him.

Then he was up again, on his feet and still fighting, though the left side of his body was immobile. It was on that side that Nuitdor stood, trying to protect him.

“We have to go,” Blaise said again from behind her. Firmly, but very gently, he put his arm around Jane’s waist and began to pull her back to where their horses waited. Jane struggled, gasping out loud.

“Don’t!” she hissed, but he was strong, and continued to drag her away. Jane began to weep. “Please,” she cried softly, still struggling weakly to escape. “We can’t leave him.”

“We have to,” said Blaise. He mounted his own horse and pulled Jane up in front of him, never letting go. Jane stopped struggling and sagged down against the horse’s neck, defeated.

The five of them thundered down the narrow path. Not one of them stopped when they reached the two rocks and the dwarf who guarded the way. They galloped past the little man as he stood flabbergasted, and out the other side. Night had fallen. There was a numb silence to the group.

Blaise’s firm grip was the only thing that kept Jane from falling from the horse. They arrived at the warrior fortress well into the night. No one had said anything the whole way, but now Fey spoke. “We will sleep the night in the fortress and then leave on the boat in the morning.”

Jane could not face Harry and Luca right then. She knew they would be in pain and might need her, but she could not, honestly, give anything just then. To give, there must be something left, and so much had been taken from her that day that she didn’t believe she would ever give anything again.

Jane did not sleep that night, but rode Blaise’s horse to the beach and sat on the sand, looking out to sea.

Fern, Prince of Cynis Witron, was dead.

Satine descended from the ship into the sunny afternoon, Ambrosius following quietly behind. Leostrial was sure to know she was in Lapis Matyr. She took it as a good sign that they hadn’t already been arrested.

Satine’s priority was to confirm their suspicions about Leostrial’s activities, and to try and discover his attack plan.

Satine’s plan had always relied solely on Leostrial’s feelings for her. If, in fact, he had any. That was the problem—she had told Accolon that Leostrial loved her, but Satine didn’t actually know this. He cared for her—cared that she was loyal to him—certainly, but love?

They bought two horses from the markets at the dock and began the long journey to the castle. Around the marshes this time—not for the life of her would she ever ride through them again, not after what had happened with Harry and the Equinox. The road was longer, but it was also much safer.

They stopped only once to spend the night in an inn, and then at sundown the next day, Satine and Ambrosius arrived at the castle.

The gates were locked, so they called through to the guards on the other side. The men realised who the travellers were. They rushed away to inform Leostrial of their arrival. Once the king was alert to Satine’s presence, she and Ambrosius were swiftly taken hold of and brought into the entrance hall of the palace.

Satine tried to remember the name of the guard who was gripping her arm tightly. Coll, that was it. She turned and gave him one of her most dazzling smiles, and said, “Coll, it has been too long.”

He stared at her for a moment, and then loosened his grip a little.

Satine sighed with relief. She and Ambrosius waited in silence for quite some time, giving Satine time to consider her strategy. But when Leostrial finally came to meet them, when Satine finally saw him again, all of her plans were forgotten.

Leostrial walked into the room and Satine remembered what it was like, every single time, to see him. The knife in her heart, made of hatred and loss, gave a twist and she clenched her teeth. He wore a long black cloak that swished as he stopped. It hid the sword she knew was at his waist. Long black riding boots covered his feet, and a plain tunic his torso.

She noticed none of this. It was his eyes that caught hold of her. They were deep chasms of darkness, black holes. They bore into her own bright blue ones, and Satine felt the darkness begin to take hold of her. It had not been like this when she left.

“Explain yourself,” he said, his voice flat. Then he folded his arms in front of him and waited.

She sucked in a breath of air and felt her hands shake at her sides. She had been naive. How could she have assumed he would accept her back into his palace, no questions asked, even if he did love her? Leostrial would not allow it.

Satine looked at him. Thought about all that he was, and had been and would become. Thought about herself, and the woman she was when she was here, in this place with him. She thought about all the people she had just left back in Amalia.

She realised where her real loyalties lay. The sight of him did something to her. Released feelings that had been locked tightly away. There was only one thing left for Satine to do, so she did it.

“My Lord, I have a long story to tell. I would be very grateful if you would hear it.” She waited for his nod of consent before she continued.

“As you know by now, my loyalty has been across the sea with Gaddemar. And, please, when you think on this, surely it is not so surprising? Surely, you must know that I am not ... the sort of woman who can just lie down and let her father’s killer take over her land.” She paused to look at him, pleading with her eyes. This was so dangerous.