Fey 02 - Changeling (114 page)

Suddenly a large boom echoed through the woods, followed by the sound of exploding glass.
 
Adrian, Coulter and Scavenger turned at the same time.
 
Behind them, light shone up and outward through cracks in the sky, like sunlight did through huge gray clouds.
 
As they watched the cracks grew bigger.
 
Thumps and thuds reverberated as chunks of the sky fell.

"Shadowlands," Scavenger said.

"It's breaking," Coulter said.

The light expanded and with it, Adrian thought he could hear screaming.
 
They were far enough away that none of the pieces fell near them.
 
It was some kind of trick that even made them feel close.

"We've got to go back," Coulter said. "Gift's in there."

Scavenger put a hand on his arm.
 
"We can't do anything.
 
It's dangerous to even get close."

A black cloud formed overhead and suddenly the three of them were being pelted with tiny gray pieces, as hard and sharp as ice.
 
Adrian pulled his hat over his face.
 
The pieces hitting the skin hurt.
 
They tinkled as they fell on the ground.

"Let's get out of here," Adrian yelled.

They ran off the road under some trees.
 
The branches prevented the worst of the gray matter from hitting them.
 
Through the holes in the leaves, Adrian could see the light emanating from Shadowlands grow brighter.

"We gotta get Gift," Coulter said.

"We can't," Scavenger said.
 
"I'm sorry, son.
 
We can't."

The gray pellets fell like hard rain.
 
They looked eerie in the growing light.

"What's happening?" Adrian asked.

"It's shattering," Scavenger said.

"Clearly," Adrian said.
 
"But why?"

Scavenger shook his head.
 
"Usually Visionaries just dismantle Shadowlands.
 
They don't explode it."
 
He frowned.
 
"Except —"

His voice trailed off as if the thought were too horrible to contemplate.

"Except?" Adrian asked.

"Except when they die."

"Someone built Shadowlands?" Adrian asked.

"Rugar did," Scavenger said.
 
"He built two of them."

"What happens to the people inside?" Coulter asked.
 
Tears were running down his face.
 
He was clutching a branch to his chest as if it were a life raft.

Scavenger shook his head.
 
"I don't know," he said.
 
"I just don't know."

SIXTY-NINE

The Elders sent him away from the Audience Chamber.
 
They wanted to have a private conference.

Titus left the Tabernacle altogether and found his favorite spot beside the Cardidas.
 
He used to come here in the days after he had seen the Old Rocaan die.
 
The water comforted him.
 
It always made him think the Words Written and Unwritten embodied in the Midnight Sacrament:

Without water, a man dies.
 
A man's body makes water.
 
His blood is water.
 
A child is born in a rush of water.
 
Water keeps us clean.
 
It keeps us healthy.
 
It keeps us alive.
 
It is when we are in water that we are closest to God.

Those words had comforted him after the Old Rocaan died. They had seemed right especially when it was holy water that killed Fey.
 
But now water brought him no comfort.
 
He watched the river rush away from him, and it felt like the moments of his life.

He had seen one Rocaan die and another denounce his faith in God.

Now the Elders were deciding whom the newest Rocaan would be.
 
And either he would have to approve that choice or oppose it by not giving the new candidate the Secrets, thereby becoming Rocaan himself.

Even the vote might not be legal.
 
The Council of Elders should have ten men.
 
This one only had eight.

He felt as if he were hiding.
 
There were more people on the river than usual.
 
A group of men were fishing across the water, and some boys were playing along the banks.
 
Some women were washing clothes at the bend west of him.
 

He was sitting among the weeds and mud near the edge of the bank.
 
He was wearing an old robe, one he often used to sit beside the river.
 
His feet were in the water; it was cool against his toes — a perfect counterpoint to the warm sun.
 
Summer was just around the corner.
 
He welcomed it and its calming heat.
 
This spring had been too difficult for him.

The Rocaan's leaving had been even more difficult.

Titus was terrified of what the Elders would do.
 
He was afraid they would elect Porciluna, and if they did, he would refuse to hand over the Secrets.
 
The man wasn't right to be Rocaan.
 
Titus knew it deep.
 
Titus wasn't the right choice either, but at least he believed.
 
At least he cared.

Something snapped above him.
 
He started and looked into the sky.
 
A gray square had appeared where there had been none before.
 
He had expected thunderclouds, not a long box that extended as far as the eye could see.

Another snap and then a crack.
 
Light extended through holes in the box.

He scrambled up the bank.
 
This was something Fey.
 
Something horrible.
 
The men and boys across the river were yelling and pointing.
 
Cracks spiderwebbed up the box's sides until the gray matter splintered and fell away.
 
Then the bottom came out and boats dropped from the sky.

Not boats.

Ships.

A wall of water smashed into Titus, knocking him flat.
 
Suddenly he had water in his mouth, his nose, his eyes.
 
He clawed for the surface, and found it as suddenly as it had disappeared.
 
The water receded, only to form another wave.
 
He scrambled even farther up the bank and noticed the women scrambling as well, sliding in the mud and water.

Some of the men were in the churning river screaming for help.
 
Bits of wood surrounded them.
 
The ships were sinking and gray matter fell like rain from the skies.

He ran all the way to the road, coughing and sputtering, his entire body covered with mud.
 
Other people were reaching into the water when the next wave hit and it swept them in.
 
He started screaming himself — for help.
 
They needed tons of help — but he wouldn't get near the water again.
 
Those precious moments under the river were too long.

Toward the west as far as he could see, ships were sinking.
 
Fey ships.
 
Parts of the gray box remained in the sky, but it looked like pieces of a child's puzzle, jagged and incomplete.

The waves were smaller now, small enough that he could get close to the edge and see if he could help.
 
More people were arriving all the time.
 
Dozens of Auds and Danites from the Tabernacle were already at the waters' edge.
 
He climbed back down the bank, his sodden robe hampering his progress.

When he reached the bottom, he extended a hand to a woman trapped in the mud.
 
She grabbed and he pulled.
 
After a moment she broke free.

"Respected Sir," she said.
 
"What have we done?"

He looked at the ruined ships.
 
The Fey would never get off Blue Isle now.

"I don't know," he said.
 
"Maybe our prayers finally reached God's Ear."

SEVENTY

Gift sat on the steps outside the Domicile.
 
Ever since his mother had been injured, he felt as if he had spent his entire life here.
 
He had gone inside with his father each day, but only for a few moments.
 
His presence seemed to disturb his mother.
 
Whenever she saw him, she started to cry, and the Domestics would make him leave.
 
Her hand was bandaged, and she had to lay on her stomach so that her shattered wings would heal.

They weren't sure if she would ever fly again.

His father was inside now.
 
Gift no longer minded.
 
His grandfather had left the Shadowlands a few days ago, and Gift felt a little safer.
 
Every few hours, though, Gift would walk to the Circle Door and then past his grandfather's cabin.
 
He wanted to know when his grandfather returned.

Gift would protect himself and his family.

He didn't know how, but he would.

Suddenly the world spun.
 
He recognized the feeling.
 
This was his Vision.
 
But in the Vision, he saw the Circle Door and his grandfather's house, and no one helped his mother.

He had to stay here.

Large thunderous cracks resounded through Shadowlands.
 
Fey came out of their houses and looked up.
 
A Domestic came onto the porch.
 

"By the Powers," she said.
 
She put her hands on Gift's back and pushed him forward.
 
"Get out.
 
Get out while you still can."

She turned and shouted the same message inside, then ran past him down the stairs.
 
The ground was shaking.
 
Bits of the sky were falling, revealing a startling blueness above.
 
Fey were screaming.

Screaming.

The Warders cabin collapsed as the Warders ran outside.
 
The porch that Gift was standing on was coming apart.
 
Domestics poured out the door, running toward the Circle Door.

Gift already knew what was happening there.
 
Fey were trampling each other trying to escape. As the Domestics ran, their feet punched holes in the ground.
 
Mend fell through one of the holes, screaming.

Another Fey started screaming near the side of the Domicile.
 
Pieces of the sky were landing on people.
 
They couldn't move or they would fall through the ground to the green below.