The Unmaking (25 page)

“I wonder what your parents are going to say to me when I get you back,” brooded Ander, rubbing his unshaven chin with his hand. “I reckon I’m going to be in a lot of trouble, aye.”

“Dinnay be silly,” said Nell. “We
had
to help Charlie, and now we have to find Swarn and Eliza.”

“And you’re sure they’re together?”

“No,” Nell admitted, “but I spec they will be.”

“And how are we going to help when we find them? Seems to me that you and I will just be in the way. You should be with your parents, aye. This is nay our fight.”

“Of course it’s our fight!” protested Nell. “This is
everyone’s
fight. What will become of the worlds if Nia is nay stopped? It will be chaos, aye, and nobody will be able to stop Tian Xia worlders from crossing over. Humans will be like slaves again.”

“Aye, sure it’s important,” said Ander calmly. “But what can
we
do
here?
We should be taking care of our families in Di Shang, Nell, that’s where
we
belong.”

Nell stared angrily at the fire. She knew he was right. Now that Charlie was better and Jalo was involved, she and Ander were not going to be of much use to anybody. But she couldn’t bear to go home to make decorations and cakes for Winter Festival, all the while wondering if the dragon was still alive, if they had found Swarn, if Eliza was with her and safe. She knew herself to be powerless, but all the same she could not allow herself to be relegated to the sidelines yet again. She was involved this time and she would stay that way. Ander looked at Nell, her eyes bright with tears, jaw clenched, and he sighed.

“We’ll stay with them until we find your friend,” he said. “Just so you can see she’s OK. Then we go back. We dinnay belong in this world.” With that he lay down on his side and went to sleep. Relieved, Nell turned her attention to the conversation between Jalo and the witch.

“What are they saying?” she whispered to Charlie.

“Swarn is still alive,” Charlie said. “Heilwig saw her two days ago, aye. Swarn is trying to get witches to join with her to fight Nia but none are willing.”

“Why are they nay willing?” asked Nell, appalled.

“Witches are pretty solitary. They stay neutral in most disputes,” said Charlie. “From their perspective, pitting themselves against Nia is just a form of suicide. Swarn is nay likely to find many in Tian Xia willing to join this fight.”

“Is Heilwig going to come and help the dragon?”

“She’s nay coming with us,” said Charlie. “But she’ll make a potion. She needs one night to gather and prepare the ingredients. Right now they’re negotiating payment. Jalo was offering Faery treasure, but she wants Magic, aye. Some kind of Illusion.”

“Tell them the dragon is nay just hurt, he’s on fire – it’s a magic fire, I spec – green, and he had little burning bits all over him,” said Nell.

Charlie interrupted the witch and the Faery to tell them this. It seemed to perturb Heilwig quite a bit. She muttered to herself, scratching at her head and wriggling in a strange way before resuming conversation with the Faery.

Nell wasn’t aware of having fallen asleep, but she woke in the morning to find Charlie and Ander also sleeping on the floor of the cave. The Faery Jalo was watching the witch grind something to powder with a pestle and mortar, chanting in a low sing-song as she did so. Her singing voice was surprisingly lovely, altogether unlike the gravelly rattle of her speech. Nell sat up and watched, fascinated, as the witch took a little black kettle from over the fire and poured a liquid bright as quicksilver into the bowl of powder. She poured it in slow circles, singing, and stirred the mixture into a gleaming paste. She drew a circle with her finger on the stone floor, placed the bowl in the centre of it, then clapped her hands over it three times, making sharp, guttural exclamations with each clap. The paste began to steam. She drew the steam up with her hands and began to shape it. The paste was dissolving fast, becoming a silky white smoke that obeyed the movement of her fingers and the direction of her breath. She spoke to it as she shaped it and Nell saw that it was taking the shape of a dragon. Soon the smoke dragon was fully formed and spread its wings out. The witch threw back her head and began to bay like a hound, waking Ander and Charlie, who watched open-mouthed as she performed the rest of the spell. The Faery calmly handed the witch a jeweled gourd he’d had at his side. She took it and held it up to the dragon, speaking a command. The dragon disintegrated into elegant white threads that poured into the gourd. Heilwig stopped it up and handed it to the Faery. She spoke to him at length and he nodded, listening carefully.

“We need some of the dragon’s blood and fire for this to work,” Charlie translated quietly to Nell. “We add it to the mix, say a spell, then we treat his wounds with the potion.”

Nell touched Heilwig on the arm and said, “Thank you.”

The witch looked at her like she was an unpleasant insect and did not reply.

Chapter

~14~

A
lvar, Lord of the Faery Guard and Second Advisor to His Majesty
, Malferio, the King of the Faeries, wandered through a fragrant garden, enchanted by the colourful songbirds his daughter’s mother-in law, Tariro, had sent as a gift. Tariro’s eldest son, Cadeyrn, was a gifted lad, quick with his sword and his wits alike. Alvar had approved of the match for his daughter. Indeed, he could not have hoped for better. His daughter was not a great beauty, nor was she particularly talented or clever. All she had was her rank and she was lucky it had been enough for the likes of Cadeyrn or, more accurately, for Cadeyrn’s mother. Tariro herself was not nobly born, but nobody remembered that these days.

The garden was Illusion, though well done, but the birds were real, captured by Tariro’s servants from an island in the Far Sea. Their song was exquisite, their feathers far brighter and softer than any of the birds in the west. He thought he would like a coat made of such feathers and wondered if there was some way he could ask her for more birds. He would write her a letter, reassuring her that Cadeyrn was indeed moving up as quickly as was seemly, and include a subtle hint of how lovely such a coat would be. Perhaps a poem of thanks, with a line about how the birds wore feathered coats beyond what could be dreamed of in the humble Faery Court. Yes, she was clever, she would pick up on that.

He left the Illusion of the garden intact, hoping he would have time to return later. A path appeared under his feet and he followed it downhill into a valley of towering ash-grey trees whose pale branches reached towards a stormy white sky. Wind lashed the trees but did not touch Alvar. Victims of Malferio’s insane purges were bound to the trees by silver chains. They hung their heads or shouted Curses they could not complete or moaned into the wind. Alvar walked among them, as he did every day. Some of them were old friends but he did not meet their eyes. He could do nothing for them now. He walked here as a reminder. As a warning.

The sky flashed and shook and the trees groaned, their pale, leafless fingers shuddering. Something was moving further in among the trees. Alvar reached for his sword. No, it must have been a trick of the light, the wind throwing shadows. There was no one here. He walked further and then froze. There was a sound on the wind like a bright, ringing laugh. He saw the flash of a cloak moving behind one of the trees in the distance.

“Show yourself!” he called. Again he heard the echo of sweet laughter, like a girl’s. He peered among the trees and the hanging bodies of old comrades. There, again, too quick for him to be sure – gleaming hair, a swirling robe.

And a voice behind him. “Alvar.”

Witchery. He did not turn around. How could there be a witch loose in the Traitor’s Wood? He should summon the Faery Guard at once, but....

“Wait,” said a voice in his ear, a voice he knew.

She stepped out from behind a tree several paces away.

“Wait, Alvar. Hear me out before you act.”

She was as beautiful as ever. So lovely that his heart seemed to stumble and pause. Her cloak was silver-white, her satin dress a brilliant green flecked with gold, like her eyes. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in shining curls and the look on her face was caught somewhere between pleading and laughter.

“It would be treason to speak with you,” he said. “I could find myself hanging from one of these trees.”

Nia looked around and shuddered. “I don’t know why you come here; it’s very morbid of you. But you won’t end up this way, Alvar. You’re far too clever. And if you listen to me, everything might be different.” She paused, her smile trembling slightly. “No more Traitor’s Wood.”

“If I am so clever,” said Alvar, “why have I not yet summoned the Guard?”

Nia shook her head. “I am a match for all of you now, Alvar. You should hear what I’ve come to say.”

The trees swayed and the wind screamed around them, touching neither. Alvar felt strangely calm. So, Nia had come. To him. There were only two possibilities now. Malferio and the Faeries would destroy her at last or she would destroy Malferio. And he, Alvar, would fall with one or rise with the other. If he spoke to Nia now, his life would depend upon her success. Centuries ago he had been a member of a secret society in favour of assassinating the King and his dangerous Queen. The society had never gained the support it needed for an undertaking so vast as the murder of another Faery and it was disbanded altogether once Nia left the realm and the worst of the purges were over. The fact that Alvar was still free and in a position of prominence showed that the King did not know of the society. The fact that Nia was here now suggested that perhaps she did. Or perhaps she only knew that the thought of her death, even when he had worked for it, had always grieved him. Perhaps she knew he had seen nothing lovelier in all his thousands of years than the flash of her eyes.

Alvar had done terrible things in his life, things he took no pride in. But he could never be called a coward. It had come to this and he was glad.

“Come,” he said, and held out his hand. The relief on her face was plain. As she came closer he saw around her neck Chiranjivi’s Mirror, the gift of Faery Immortality to a mortal, and a shining vial that, he knew, contained Malferio’s blood. Her hand in his was soft and warm. A sandy path opened among the trees and they took it out of the wood, which fell away behind them. They emerged under a gentle sky, rose-coloured, tinged with gold. Emerald waves lapped against the sandy shore. Behind them chrysanthemums bloomed, heavy-headed on their stems.

“Very pretty,” said Nia. She looked up at him coyly through a fringe of dark gold lashes. “You called me Queen once. Does that seem funny, now?”

“Not funny,” said Alvar, but he smiled. “How did you find us?”

She frowned. “Don’t insult me. I’m not a fool and neither are you. That’s why I came to see you first. The allegiance of the Faery Guard is yours, Alvar. You carry a great deal of influence. Others will listen to you. You have to make my case for me.”

“I thought you were a match for all of us.”

“There’s no need for an all-out war. I have no grudge against the Faeries. In fact, I’m rather fond of Faeries. But I have a matter to settle with your king. Whether the Faeries rally around him or not, I
will
destroy him. If you can persuade the Faery Lords to overthrow him, it will all be very simple. If not, I will have my way in the end anyway, but I will count you in particular my enemy.”

“You do not need to threaten me,” said Alvar. “You smell wonderful. What is that?”

“It’s a human-made perfume, would you believe,” she said with a laugh. “They’re surprisingly good at some things. Are you listening to me, Alvar?”

“It is a difficult thing you ask,” he said.

The waves darkened and rose up, the sky began to tremble, and he looked at her in surprise.

“Not so difficult,” she said. A wave crashed against the shore, and the water that splashed them was cold. “Perhaps you would prefer that both he and I were dead, but this cannot be. It will all be over in a day or so and I promise you I will be the victor. This king of yours is not well loved. His marriage to me left him very unpopular as we both know. The Faeries will support his exile. In return I will swear by the Oath of the Ancients never to enter the Realm of the Faeries again. You can accept my proposal now or you can wait for me to give you a demonstration of my power and accept it later. What will you do?”

“It is not enough,” said Alvar. “The Faeries will not back it.”

“The Festival of Light, when the Faeries swear allegiance, is the day after tomorrow. I will give the Faeries every reason to turn on their king, I promise you. Overthrown, he is in
your
power, and you must promise me his expulsion. Do not put my question aside again. What will you do?”

The waves were dark giants now, the sea black, the sky red. The chrysanthemums were growing, swaying, winding upwards. Nia’s eyes shone.

“Tell me what you wish me to do,” said Alvar.

~~~

To Eliza’s partial relief, the ravens did not follow when they flew south again. They found the Special Forces deployed by General Malone well before nightfall. It appeared that the General had not taken entirely seriously her assessment of the threat. He had sent a pitifully small troop to deal with the Kwellrahg and they had not fared well. When Eliza and Uri Mon Lil found them, they were in various stages of regrouping at the edge of the Great Sand Sea, just south of the border.