Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales) (36 page)

A night in Virginia’s strange cottage—despite sleeping in a room that seemed to have no boundaries, on a bed of dried flowers, next to a cave with icy running water for a bathroom—had left her refreshed. When morning came, Virginia fed them and kissed them all farewell.

Lucas had again told Sam and Rosie that there was no need for them to travel all the way if they’d prefer to go home. The argument had been brief: they were coming, whether Luc liked it or not. Stevie was secretly, deeply glad of their company, and guessed that Lucas was too.

Lucas led the party through Elysion’s lush greenery and oceanic forests for three or four hours. Occasionally they saw dark-clad figures running through the wildwoods in the distance. “They’re Fheylim,” Rosie said. “My uncle’s of that
eretru
. They’re a taciturn lot, but harmless as long as you don’t get on their wrong side.”

The border was surprisingly distinct. Elysion ended on a scarp of lush ferns and flowers. Below lay the violet water realm, exuding a cool scent of rain.

“The
antilineos
lies across Melusiel,” said Lucas. “It should take us two days, maximum, to reach the portal that comes out somewhere in Nevada. Or California.”

“Could you sound a bit more confident?” said Sam. “What you need is assertiveness training, mate. Convince
us
you know what you’re doing, even if you don’t. You do have some clue how
big
the States are, don’t you?”

“Leave him alone,” Rosie said mildly. “When’s Luc ever led us wrong? I’d rather he was a bit cautious than insanely hot-headed. Mentioning no names.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at her. “Hey, you can talk.”

“Only two days?” said Stevie. “I thought the Spiral was big, verging on infinite.”

“Yes, but because it twists around on itself”—Lucas demonstrated with a vague twirl of his hands—“and intersects with the Earth at various points, that creates shortcuts. Shortish, anyway.”

“Not forgetting wettish,” said Rosie.

Mist said, “We need a boat.” It was the first time he’d spoken for a while. Since their experience at the waterfall, Mist had been very quiet. He barely seemed able to look at Stevie this morning, let alone speak to her.

She was concerned, and a bit hurt. Of course he was anxious about the journey and what might await them; that was only natural. Was his silence a symptom of delayed shock, from learning the truth about her origins? Was he disappointed that she’d once been Fela, and not a reincarnation of his beloved Helena? Perhaps his mood was due to something else entirely. Stevie sighed to herself, and let him be.

“Boat. Good point,” said Lucas. “I should have thought of that. Vast tracts of water and only a few fingers of squelchy grass to walk along—trying to cross Melusiel on foot isn’t the brightest idea.”

They descended the scarp, working their way diagonally across the wide, concave slope with dark flint sliding under their boots. Stevie felt more than a change of climate or damp air on her skin; she felt a different energy, an indefinable shift of atmosphere, as she’d felt at Stonegate Manor.

“Why do we need feet, or boats?” said Sam. “C’mon, Mistangamesh—you spent half of yesterday as a bloody great water dragon. Stevie’s apparently from a Melusiel-related clan. I’m sure the rest of us can manage with doggy paddle, or sprout a few fins.”

“You are joking?” said Rosie.

“No, I’m suggesting we use our Aetherial attributes. Or wings! Who can produce wings? Come to think of it, we all can, if we revert to our most primal form. You ever done that? Become Estalyr? It’s quite a wild ride.”

“No,” Mist said softly. “I don’t believe I have. One transformation was enough for me.”

Rosie was shaking her head. “Sam, it won’t work. Becoming Estalyr takes a huge amount of group energy and even if we could, you know it makes us go strange in the head. The last thing we need is everyone heading off in different directions and vanishing.”

“I’d rather not,” said Stevie. “Change form and swim, I mean. I don’t know why, but I need to stay … human-shaped for now. Feels more controllable.”

“You may not be in the best place, if you like things controllable,” Sam said dryly.

“I’m not a
complete
control freak.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“Okay, maybe a bit,” Stevie allowed. “This is all new to me, but also very old, as if it happened to someone else. I feel … out of joint.”

Rosie put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we all know that feeling. Practical point, we don’t want to end up losing clothes and belongings en route, do we?”

The scarp flattened onto the wide, reedy bank of a waterway. Looking back, Stevie saw nothing beyond the edge from which they’d descended; only cloud vapor, concealing any hint of Elysion.

Sam asked, “So where do we get a boat from?”

“We’ll ask the Halathrim,” said Lucas.

Following Luc’s gaze, they saw a handful of Aetherials sitting at the water’s edge, barely visible amid tall reeds. Their hair was long and dull violet in hue, their skin the silver of rain. They turned to look at the newcomers with slow, sinuous movements like waterweed.

As Lucas approached, all the Halathrim slid into the water, leaving only fanning ripples behind.

“Wait!” he called. “I’m Lucas Fox, the Gatekeeper to Vaeth. Please, good Halathrim, we need your help.”

A head broke the water. It was a female with a grey-green complexion, purplish hair floating around her shoulders. She appeared to be naked, although mostly concealed by the light-distortions of the water. Her body was strong and long-limbed and she paddled gently to keep herself afloat.

“Where are you going, Vaethyr friends?” she said.

She was a true water spirit, some kind of naiad. Stevie wondered if the Halathrim and Tashralyr were related in some way … if there were any Tashralyr left. Stevie felt no particular kinship to the naiad. Still, she seemed friendly enough, regarding them with calm green eyes. Other heads broke the surface as her fellows trod water around her.

“We’re following an
antilineos
to another part of Vaeth,” said Lucas. “Will you let us pass? We won’t disturb you.”

“Go wherever you wish. We don’t own the realm. No one owns the Spiral.”

That was a strangely obvious assertion to make, Stevie thought. Lucas said, “Could you help us find a boat of some kind?”

The Halathrim looked amused, as if pitying the land dwellers. “Obviously you don’t need boats,” Rosie said, crouching down beside her brother. “But we would like to stay dry, and there must be many Melusians who live beside the water, not in it.” She indicated Stevie. “Our friend here used to.”

The naiad smiled. “There are, although not close to this place. Still … I know where there’s an old vessel abandoned in the reeds.”

“As long as it’s watertight,” said Sam, adding under his breath, “Doesn’t sound promising.”

“Blessings of Estel the Eternal upon you.” Lucas rose and bowed to the Halathrim.

Fine drizzle sifted from the sky as they waited. Sunlight appeared briefly, turning the glades to silver and diamonds. Soon the naiads returned, pushing a low, oval vessel that appeared to be tight-woven from reeds. A coracle, primitive and handmade. The Melusians pushed this floating basket hard into the bank and held it steady for the Vaethyr to step aboard.

Sam went in first, lending a hand first to Rosie, then to the others in turn. The vessel rocked alarmingly as they boarded. There was space enough for the five of them, with simple wicker seats across the front, middle and rear. Although the boat looked fragile and shiny-grey with age, it felt sturdy on the water once they were seated. Lucas took a position at the prow while Sam and Rosie sat on the middle plank, with Mist and Stevie at the rear.

There were four oars, long and spade-shaped. “I think I know how this works,” Sam said, passing one each to Rosie, Lucas and Mist. “The person at the front has to paddle—sorry, Luc, did you think you were going to sit there with the wind blowing through your hair while the rest of us did the work? Person at the back steers. Rosie and I will row too, to add to the speed. This is going to be fun.”

Mist took the steering oar. They pushed out of the reed beds, with the Halathrim helping to pull them into clear water. “Estel watch over your journey,” said the female naiad. “Fare well.”

The coracle rocked as the Halathrim let go, causing Stevie to gasp and grab the side. Rosie looked back at her with a smile. “I’ve realized who you remind me of, Stevie. You know the painting by John Waterhouse,
The Lady of Shalott
, where she’s drifting away in a boat? You look just like her.”

“More like the Bag Lady of Shalott,” Stevie retorted. “Hold on, wasn’t she floating away to her doom?”

“Ah. Not the best analogy,” said Rosie. “But you do have the same great hair and nervous expression.”

“Thanks, I think,” Stevie said with a grimace. She saw the faintest smile touch Mist’s shadowed face. What did the smile mean? That he was ready to talk to her again? “Look, I have a weird relationship with water and I don’t want to sit here being rowed to a romantic death. I’m the relief oarsman, okay? As soon as one of you gets tired, I’ll take over.”

“It won’t be Rosie,” said Sam. “She’s a landscape gardener. Arm muscles like an ambidextrous tennis player. Lucas, on the other hand, rarely lifts anything heavier than a magical staff. My money’s on Luc giving up first.”

Lucas, without turning round, showed Sam a finger.

Stevie grinned to herself. She couldn’t express her relief at being in the company of these three Aetherials who were so down-to-earth and confident enough to make jokes while she was quietly terrified.

Soon the Halathrim were lost to sight and the wetlands became eerily empty. Violet waters slid by. The only sound was the splash of paddles in the water. They were passing down a long, wide channel between reed-beds that made Stevie think of the Florida Everglades that she’d seen on television … but those images had been green and blue and sunny, full of life, usually with a noisy fan-driven boat churning parabolas of spray. Here there was only purple-blue emptiness. A couple of herons skimmed across the waterway in front of them … then stillness fell again. Melusiel reminded her, too, of the marshes where Fela had lived … and drowned.

“Is this it, for two days?” said Sam. “This is like the canal boat holiday from hell.”

“Worse,” said Rosie. “At least canals have pubs.”

“Can you two show the
slightest
bit of reverence?” said Lucas. “It’s a magical pathway. Of course there are no fucking pubs!”

While they bantered, Stevie said softly to Mist, “Are you all right?”

He glanced at her. “Yes, why?”

“Because ever since … you seem worried, withdrawn. Not yourself.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She waited, but he said nothing more. “So what’s wrong?”

At last looked directly at her. “Where to start answering that? Everything.”

“Have I upset you? I know we argued a bit.”

“You?” He looked surprised. “No, Stevie, no.” He touched her hand, then was silent again, all his attention focused on steering as Lucas called out instructions.

Stevie knew the feeling of simply not wanting to talk, and worse than that, being
unable
to. It chilled her. She let him alone.

Wisps of fog drifted past, forming shapes that tricked her eyes into seeing spectral beings. Along the shore, ferny trees showed in silhouette against gold-touched cloud.

Some hours later, they steered into the edge of the waterway and pulled the coracle up onto the bank. There were no reeds to hamper them, only a mat of thick, lacy vegetation. About twenty feet inland, a ridge rose from the bank, clustered with outcrops of rock. Trees clasped the rocks with twisted roots. Their branches reached up like gnarled willows, glittering with leaves like tiny green coins, vivid against the dull lavender hues of twilight.

They found a sheltered place to make camp in a curve of the ridge. Then there was nothing to do but try to keep dry while they ate and rested. Sam, Rosie and Lucas were talkative. Mist added occasional remarks, but Stevie felt that all their talking had been done last night.

She removed herself from the group and sat on a rock, looking out at the softly mysterious wetlands. Rain misted down. A flock of small birds resembling egrets took flight. Most of them were white, but three were a startling bright red. The sight made her smile in surprise. She felt at peace, as if it would be easy to forget Daniel, Mist, Rufus and everything else, and remain here until she dissolved into the rain and trickled down to join the naiads in the lake where she could drift among the lilies without a care.

“Are you doing okay?” Rosie asked, sitting down beside her. She put a chocolate bar in Stevie’s hand and added, “You didn’t eat much. Have this.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

“The journey’s not too awful, is it? I know they say it rains all the time here, like in Manchester or Seattle, but I like Melusiel.”

“It’s nice, actually, just drifting along. It’s what we’re heading towards…”

“Well, we’ll do our absolute best to help. Don’t worry. We’ve been through far worse than this, believe me.”

Stevie again felt so glad of Rosie’s company that she could have hugged her. Instead she held her feelings inside, unsure how to be demonstrative without looking like an idiot. “You didn’t have to come with us, but I’m so glad you did.”

“Oh, you’d have managed,” Rosie said cheerfully, “but the more, the merrier. To be honest, Lucas isn’t doing this out of charity. He’s got an ulterior motive. He won’t admit it, but I reckon he’s looking for Iola. She’s lovely, but
very
Aelyr. She keeps vanishing and he’s always scared she won’t come back. And he’s also after news of Albin.”

“From what I’ve heard about Albin, he’s better left alone.”

“True. He tried to stop Luc becoming Gatekeeper. It’s a long, convoluted story, so let’s just say, Albin is always trouble. They say he was never in his right mind after his wife Maia vanished, but I think it’s the other way round; she went, because he’s a cold authoritarian bully.”