Descent (42 page)

Finally she made it, and Jane could have wept with admiration. But the relief died quickly in her heart, for as soon as the two saved bodies disappeared into the light, the woman began to plummet back down into the depths of loss and blackness. Jane tried to reach out for her, but she sank right through her non-existent grasp.

They watched in despair as she fell, even though there was great relief and peace in the woman’s face. Then she disappeared, and so did the scene, and they were standing back in the cavern.

Jane looked at Fern. His face was white. ‘Hira. My stepmother. Elixia’s mother,’ he said shakily.

‘Oh god,’ Jane muttered. Now she understood.

‘I never knew she died that way,’ he went on. ‘
And my mother!
’ His voice was enraged. ‘How could she have done that?’

Jane didn’t know what to say. She’d always thought there was something cold about the Queen of the Elves, but had never imagined she might be capable of something like that.

Before they could compose themselves, the two of them were thrust into another scene, different again.

Now they stood in the ice castle in the queen’s chamber. She was there, and so was another Elvish man. He had his back to them so they couldn’t see who it was, but a clear sense of urgency surrounded them.

‘What are you talking about?’ the man asked, his voice strained. Jane and Fern moved so that they could see his face and both gasped at the same time. It was Blaise. He looked different. Younger than when they had last seen him, and a lot more like an Elf than either of them remembered. But he’d been trying to stay disguised when they knew him, so it made sense.

‘The sending-stone shone! They are in trouble! Send help!’

Liensenne shook her head firmly. ‘If they are within human lands then they are not ours to help.’

Jane felt a tremor of fear as she looked at Blaise’s face. She’d never seen such horror.

‘
What?
’ he whispered, his voice the sound of someone dying slowly. ‘It’s my
wife and daughter,
and you want to leave them to be killed by sabre-tooths because they aren’t in Elvish land? Have you gone
insane?
’

‘Watch your tongue,’ she ordered flatly, turning away from him.

‘How can you do this? How can you let them die just because we don’t have an alliance with the humans?’

Liensenne didn’t even bother replying. Jane struggled to stop her hands from shaking. It had always been there for them to see—the loss in the eyes of the Elf. She’d never understood until now what had caused the First Prince of the Elves to flee his people and have them name him ‘the Lost Prince’ forever more. But now she knew, and she’d give anything not to be watching this.

‘If you do this,’ Blaise whispered into the silence of the room, ‘If you refuse to send aid and make me go there alone, I will forsake you as my queen and I will leave this city and my people forever.’

Slowly Liensenne turned back to face her nephew. Her eyes were full of tears. ‘So be it,’ she said.

A shadow passed through Blaise, never to leave again. Before he swept from the room, he said, his voice stronger than anything Jane had heard, ‘I curse you until the day you die. May your soul rot in hell for all eternity.’

Jane felt it like a blow, and when she looked at Fern, she knew he was experiencing the fall of his cousin a thousand times more painfully than she ever would.

The sound of the Queen of the Elves crying softly in her room made of ice echoed around them, even after the scene had disappeared and they were somewhere different.

Now they were in a stone room at night, the moons through the window the only light. The walls were circular, and against one there was a small straw palette with a sleeping man upon it.

Jane moved closer. It was Harry. Vague, dreamy Harry, who’d turned into a man somewhere along the way. He was tossing in his sleep, low moans escaping his mouth.

‘Oh Christ,’ Jane breathed. ‘Has he been touched by a Valkyrie?’

Fern didn’t have a chance to reply, because just then there was a rush of movement, like everything in the room was moving at high speed. Jane blinked and opened her eyes to realise that they were standing inside Harry’s dream. It was dark, but Harry stood in a pool of light, staring at something unseen.

‘Hello,’ he said gently.

Jane blinked. ‘Who is he talking to?’ she whispered. Fern shook his head, clearly as confused as she was.

‘Who are you?’ Harry murmured into the empty air. Jane walked around so that she could see her friend’s face. He looked wistful and nervous. And his eyes seemed to be focused on something in the immediate vicinity. She looked around but there was no one, only darkness.

They watched as Harry had an entire one-sided conversation, and then they heard him say, ‘
I don’t understand...
’

Suddenly all the colour drained from Harry’s face. A look came into his eyes, and the touch of terror was like a cold finger reaching inside Jane, because she’d seen that look before. She’d seen it in the eyes of Luca after he’d been tortured.

‘What’s going on?’ she whispered. Harry sank to his knees. It seemed like a great weight had come down on top of him.

‘When did this—is this happening now?’ Jane asked, her voice shaky. Urgency struck her—she had to do something this time. She’d let Luca walk down that path of darkness alone, but she was not going to allow Harry to do the same if something had touched his mind.

A moment later they found themselves under the earth in a dank cavern. Watching as Luca was tortured by Vezzet, his bones broken, his skin burnt, his screams piercing the air.

Jane felt a tremor in her heart but there were no tears in her eyes now. She was frozen, sick with horror. Fern’s eyes were locked on the writhing figure. They were forced to witness the agony, the breaking of a mind, the torture of a boy they loved. Jane thought she might vomit. She would never forget it.

Again they moved to another scene, and now they were standing in the middle of the desert, watching a mighty city sink into the sand, the cries of torment and sorrow audible even from such a distance. They watched until the tips of the palace had disappeared, until the sand was bare in every direction.

Once again they moved, and this time it was to witness something that neither of them understood at first.

Jane and Fern were standing on a boat, the sun on their backs, the sounds of waves lapping underneath them a respite from all the screams they had just heard. There were young men and women chained to the oars, being made to row even though every one of them looked about ready to die from weakness and heat.

All of them except one person. And that was Jack.

He looked so different, his sun-tanned back and shoulders working hard, muscled with the exertion of rowing. A man who was clearly in charge walked straight through them to stand in front of Jack. He began to whip the boy, over and over, and Jane gasped as she saw the lacerations appear on Jack’s back. Jack didn’t make a noise though—he didn’t even stop rowing. He just gritted his teeth and put more effort into his task. The picture was so at odds with how Jane thought of Jack—spoilt and petulant. Not strong like this. She covered her eyes and shook her head, willing it all to stop.

The next room they arrived in was one that Jane recognised. She searched backwards, a long way back, for the memory that would prepare her.

A royal bedchamber. One she knew well. It was late at night, and the furnishings were very old fashioned. Over a thousand years old. There was a couple sleeping in the wide bed. But they weren’t who held her attention. A man was entering through the door, his hood drawn to hide his face. He held a very long, straight sword with a black gem in the hilt, and Jane recognised it immediately.

‘Oh no,’ she whispered, casting a horrified look at Fern’s confused face. She would have given anything just then for him not to be watching this.
Anything.

The couple in the bed stirred, both waking at the same time and looking around in the dim light, searching for the source of the soft noise. They spotted him. A tall, cloaked, armed man, standing in their bedchamber in the middle of the night.

The man drew back his hood slowly, revealing his face. Jane was ready for it. She was not ready for the way his face made her heart beat.

It was silly, really. Fern was right next to her, holding her hand. She could look at his face anytime she wanted to. It always made her shiver with pleasure, sometimes even when she was angry. But this was different. This was the face he’d had in their first lives, when first she’d learned to love him.

She looked at Fern, the real, present-day Fern. He was staring at this old version of himself, his face drained of all colour, his body frozen. A thousand years ago he’d been shorter because he’d been completely human. His hair was lighter, his body more muscled—he had the arms of a blacksmith. And yet they were the same. It could be seen, quite clearly, in the eyes. They were the exact same shade of grey.

The old Fern walked forward a few more steps, his gaze never faltering.

‘You!’ the High King gasped, an ugly streak of anger twisting his face. The queen covered her mouth.

‘Gods forgive me for taking any human life, but it is time, finally, for this to be over.’ The old Fern stepped closer and raised his sword. ‘You have caused too much harm. Too much pain, made too many mistakes. Paragor must be rid of you once and for all if we are to find a way to survive this.’

The king fumbled desperately for his own sword where it sat next to the bed, but was run through by Fern’s blade before he had a chance to look up. The queen’s screams were cut off as she was killed just as smoothly.

Fern’s face was twisted into an expression of torment, but there was no regret.

The present-day Fern watched with a dawning sense of dread.

The door opened again, as Jane had known it would. A woman stood there, short and slender, with long dark hair hanging down her back. Big brown eyes blinked once, twice, utterly unprepared for what she would find upon entering her parent’s chamber.

Amara gasped. ‘What happened? Did you ... did you do this, Fern?’

He looked at her, his shoulders slumping with the weight of the world. His eyes held something that Jane couldn’t bear to look at. But she didn’t want to look at herself either—at Amara, the woman she’d once been. This was the scene that had broken her. It was what made her leap from the cliffs in order to escape the man she loved more than anyone in the world, the man who had slaughtered her only family. To escape the fact that she loved him, and didn’t know how to forgive him.

‘I had to, Am,’ he whispered, his voice pleading. ‘They were tyrants. Paragor needs no more pain.
Think of all the people they’ve harmed.’

‘Yes, but...’ Her voice was a whisper, looking from Fern to the dead bodies. That was when it hit her, Jane knew, and she sank to her knees and began to sob.

‘Amara!’ Fern exclaimed, taking a step towards her.

She recoiled away from him in revulsion. ‘
They were my parents!
’

And the weariness in his face, the burden of what he’d done at the cost of his happiness, and Amara’s happiness, was overwhelming.

Jane and Fern watched as the two figures spiralled into a last horror, one that would ruin everything and send Amara to her death.

Then they were back in the hall.

‘Why are we being made to see these things?’ Jane whispered, covering her face with her hands. ‘It’s too much, I can’t...’

Fern sagged to the floor against one of the pillars.

They stayed like that for a long time, knowing that they could handle no more. It was a beating of their senses, their memories, their feelings. They felt bruised, exhausted.

‘Tell me why I did that,’ Fern whispered finally, his voice breaking.

Jane closed her eyes and began to speak.

‘When the Scourge was beaten, you will know of the eradication that took place. The destruction of everything that spoke of the war, of our triumph, of the courage of human kind. All the names of our heroes were lost to history. It was because of them, because of the High King and Queen, who were my parents. The people who had done nothing—
nothing
—in the face of the Scourge’s attack, then made every shred of evidence that anything at all had happened disappear. Artworks were destroyed, sculptures smashed, books burned.
People were forbidden to talk of it. Nobody understood why—they had triumphed! They’d won! And now they weren’t allowed to remember those who had died in the wars. It seemed like a betrayal of the worst possible kind.’ Jane shook her head, remembering with cold clarity those months in the aftermath of the war. ‘It got worse. Taxes were raised for no reason. Punishments became harsher. There was a curfew put in place—nobody was allowed out after dark, punishable by death. An entire city, a city of passionate people, set on the path to equality, was banished from the world because they refused to be made into a state of the treaty countries. Samaraq was lost. It was as though the attack, and their lack of involvement, embarrassed the king and queen. They sought to cement their power by crushing the souls of people, by making sure that there could never be a revolt, that they were not weak enough to overpower.’

Jane finally looked at Fern. ‘You were a good man,’ she said softly. ‘Of course you were. It’s why I loved you. You did what you knew nobody else had the courage to do. You killed a man and a woman who had let the seduction of ultimate power turn them into tyrants.’

‘But they were your parents,’ he said, meeting her gaze, an echo of Amara’s exact words so long ago.

‘It was a very long time ago,’ she sighed. ‘Truly, Fern. If there is one thing I want you to hear me say, it is that I have already forgiven you a hundred times over. It was another lifetime.’

Fern dropped his head into his hands. He didn’t move for a very long time. She knew he was not going to be able to let go of this. More guilt. He was drowning in it.

Jane waited, and into the silence she said again, ‘It was a very long time ago.’

‘I can’t hold it any longer!’ Bayard screamed, the muscles in his arm shaking with effort. He held a shield above his head, trying to withstand the pounding of wings as he guarded the crouching form of Locktar. Bayard could only use one arm and was trying to protect his wounded one at the same time. Anna was on his other side, her sword out, chopping at the Valkyries as they swooped.

Harry had climbed onto one of the battlements to get a better angle from which to shoot, and from there he could see the rest of the group clearly. He was shouting out continuous warnings to each of them. Luca, Tzenna and Ria stood in a triangle, their backs to each other, their eyes to the sky. Satine was facing more Valkyries than the rest of them together, and was using a long wooden pole with a spear attached to the end, incredibly athletic as she sailed through the air.

Harry was trying to cover Bayard and Anna, but there were too many Valkyries, and the Captain wasn’t going to be able to hold his shield in place much longer. Swearing aloud, Harry knew they couldn’t do much damage from the ground—they had to get into the air, and if Locktar couldn’t change back—

The thought sprung to his mind much too late, and he cursed himself for not thinking it earlier. Weapons he’d used once before.

Quickly he put his fingers to his lips and gave a long, piercing whistle. He knew that it might not work since it did not come from her, but he had to try anyway.

It seemed to take an age, but finally, Jane’s two unicorns descended out of the sky. They scattered their way through the Valkyries and landed on the roof, eyes wide with excitement. Satine flashed Harry a brilliant smile and without a word leapt onto the back of one of the creatures. It snorted in alarm, but did not try to throw her, simply because Satine had ridden it before, and it remembered her.

Which left the other unicorn. Harry looked around quickly at the others, none of whom seemed to have even noticed the creatures.

Except for one person. The High Queen, who according to every rumour had been a rider her whole life, stepped forward now and stroked the beast gently, ignoring the chaos around her. Not waiting for permission from anyone but the unicorn, she swung gracefully onto its back and it leapt into the sky.

And so the two queens rode through the sky, felling Valkyries as even more appeared. They cut swathes through the masses, but Harry’s whoop of victory died on his lips as he saw that both of them, almost instantly, were bleeding.

Eventually, because nothing had changed, Fern rose and started walking. Jane didn’t follow him, and after a few steps he turned back to look at her.

‘Come on, sweetheart. We have to keep going.’

‘Why? What’s the point?’ she asked tiredly.

‘We must keep going or we will die here.’

Jane looked at him a little longer, then rose too. They were so fatigued that their feet dragged along the ground.

They walked in silence for a time, but soon Jane could hold it in no more.

‘Fern, everything we saw was truly horrible,’ she said. She took his hand and pulled him around to face her. ‘But do you know why? It was because the visions were full of love. Every one was about people loving one another, and the consequences of that.’

He stared at her. ‘It means you can lose each other. You lose the people you love. Every single vision was about loss.’

She nodded. ‘That’s what they want us to think. But all it made me realise is how important it is not to give up—how pointless our lives would be if we did.’

He didn’t answer and she thought, once again, of his desire for them to be over.

‘Let’s go,’ she added quickly.

They struggled on, determined not to stop.

‘How much longer can this go on?’ Fern wondered softly.

Anna gasped as a talon raked through her shoulder, and she spun around, swinging her sword into the Valkyrie that had gotten too close. Tears sprang to her eyes and she brushed them away impatiently. ‘Locktar!’ she screamed, ‘Hurry!’

The man was breathing heavily, his eyes closed, trusting that the Captain could protect him long enough to change—but nothing was happening. No matter how he focused and tried, he could not voluntarily induce the occurrence. Maybe he’d never be able to change back. Anna couldn’t help but mourn the loss.

Suddenly there was a grunt of pain from behind her and Anna turned to see Bayard fall, his shield spinning across the roof. Blood poured from his bandaged arm as he scrambled to his feet and reached for his fallen
sword, just in time to fend off another attack. However, the damage was done, and no matter how many arrows Harry fired into the air, the Valkyries used the moment to surge down on top of Locktar, knowing somehow that he was the greatest threat.

Anna screamed as she saw them tear through his fragile human body. A mighty roar erupted from Locktar, a sound of agony and fury. And suddenly, something burst to life inside him. The man’s skin began to bulge, and the sound that came from him was a half-human scream, half-animal roar. The Valkyries’ attack on him intensified, sensing the danger, but it was too late.

The ground shook beneath them, sending some of them to their knees, and the noise was deafening as Locktar’s bones cracked and moved, his skin turning from soft and white to hard, black and scaly. He grew until he filled almost the entire roof, squashing the rest of them against the battlements. Finally he stopped moving, and there before them lay the mighty dragon.

Locktar raised his head towards the sky and gave an enraged shriek, spraying burning flames into the army of Valkyries, who scattered out of the way.

Anna heard a great cheer of relief erupt from the roof, but she didn’t have time to see who had given it, for she was climbing as quickly as she could onto her dragon’s back, attaching between his wings the harness she’d carried with her.

‘Good one,’ she whispered into his ear, her smile bright and unchecked. ‘Now let’s kick some ass!’

The beast gave a scream of delight. Uncoiling his wings he leapt into the air, flapping hurricane-like waves of air that battered the Valkyries out of the way. They flew until they were high above the mass of monsters, above the unicorns, to the best spot from which to attack. And then they went to work.

Ria ducked out of the way of a swooping creature and ran to stand beside Bayard.

‘All right?’ she called to him over the cacophony of noise—the dragon above them seemed to be glorying in causing mass destruction and was bellowing his glee.

Bayard grunted and drew his sword—now that he didn’t have to guard Locktar, his one good hand was free. She watched him twirl the sword expertly, feeling its weight, measuring his pain. He was the Captain of the Karangul army, she realised—he had an entire score of trained knights under his command because he was the best. She’d never seen him fight, but knew she shouldn’t have been so surprised by his quiet, unassuming capabilities as he ignored his injuries and dispatched every Valkyrie that flew his way. The dragon had scattered their attack, caused them to lose some of their advantage, but all those on the roof could see that the creatures were now turning most of their attention to their foes in the sky.

Ria wished desperately that they could all get up there somehow—it wasn’t fair fighting down here like this! They couldn’t do anything except wait for the Valkyries to fly low enough. Not to mention the rest of the city that was completely unprotected.

She looked over at Luca. It was clear he could not hold his sword comfortably—just gripping it in his broken hands caused him to grimace. But he was striking out at the beasts with the deadliness he’d acquired in all the time they’d been separated. The last time Ria and Luca had fought side-by-side, he had been no more than a boy, out of his depth, bumbling and terrified. Looking at him now, she couldn’t help but miss that boy.

Ria noticed once again the woman next to him, fighting as best she could without any knowledge of how to wield a weapon. She clearly had no idea what to do,
but was driven by so much courage that Ria wondered who she was. Luca stayed close to her side, reaching a hand out to steady her on occasion, keeping his eyes glued to the sky above her. Ria felt an unexpected pang.

Suddenly the dragon above them swooped low, gnashing his mighty jaws at the Valkyries closest to the roof. The move scattered the creatures even lower, and sent a wave of them down on top of the fighters.

Luca shouted and fell sideways, pummelling into the woman and slamming her to the ground. Ria realised with horror that he’d purposely pushed her out of the way of a Valkyrie, but had ended up exposing his own back to the attack. Talons raked through him, from shoulder to hip. Luca screamed in agony.

Harry cried out his friend’s name. Ria had no more time to watch, for she too was being pounded by the effects of the wayward dragon’s tail as it swooped around and brushed a dozen or so Valkyries straight towards her.

Harry’s eyes were glued to Luca, lying face down, his back torn into ribbons of flesh, blood seeping on to Tzenna’s dress where she sat trying to staunch his wounds.

Moments later Harry felt something slam into his own body, catching him completely unaware and sending him flying into the air. He winced, but all he felt was the wind rushing past his ears, and he realised with horror that he had been knocked backwards and off the battlement.

A cry escaped his lips as he fell towards the ground, much too far below him.

Satine had been circling, ready to cover Elixia’s flank as the younger queen dropped to attack the Valkyries that were trying to get at the dragon’s underbelly.
Therefore, she saw it from a different angle. She saw Harry turn his eyes to his wounded friend. Silently, because she knew he’d never hear a real cry, Satine begged him to turn away, to concentrate. What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion. A stray Valkyrie, lower than the rest, turned as it reached him, brushing its wing into his chest and knocking him into the air.

Satine was already moving. She kicked her mount hard and urged it into a dive. The unicorn’s wings tucked neatly into its body and it dropped like a rock through the air, not needing to be told what it had to do.

Wind pounded Satine’s face and she closed her eyes against the blinding pain of it. Half a second later she opened them again as she felt herself come into contact with Harry’s body. He slammed into them, pummelling the unicorn from its course, and not even the urgent spreading of its wings could stop them from pounding into the side of the palace. The unicorn screamed, flapping its wings, trying desperately to slow its uncontrolled descent. Harry and Satine had both been winded by the jolt, and scrambled to stay atop the floundering animal.

They were thrown off the unicorn’s back just before it crashed onto the grass, its long legs giving way beneath it. Satine sucked air into her lungs as she dragged herself to her knees, searching for Harry. He’d ploughed into the ground shoulder first and was groaning, but conscious. The unicorn gave a ruffled whinny, then climbed quickly to its feet, seemingly unhurt. Satine sighed in relief—she’d been sure the crash would have broken its legs, but it shook the dirt from its pelt, tossing its head and snorting.

‘You okay?’ she called to Harry.

He leant against the wall of the palace, then gave her a weary smile. ‘Thanks to you.’

‘Good—now let’s get back up there!’