Descent (9 page)

One of Satine’s many secretaries was waiting at her door, and resumed writing a constant flow of notes as they walked down the corridor.

‘Inform the king’s men that I will not take one of them for a husband, and that they should not assume so much,’ Satine barked.

The secretary blushed and tried to hide his smile. Men from both the other treaty countries often sought her hand in marriage, knowing it would bring them power and status. Satine, however, was not interested in giving away her kingdom to a patronising nobleman.

‘Send a messenger to Altor and ask him to meet me for a meal in my chambers. I need to speak with him.’

‘Right away, your majesty.’

The young man turned and motioned quickly for one of his own servants to run the message.

At that moment Harry rounded the corner, and slowed to a swift walk as he saw her. ‘Satine! I came to say goodbye. We’re headed to Amalia at midday today.’

‘So soon?’ Satine sighed. ‘I was hoping to spend some time with the three of you—it’s not often more Strangers walk through our doors.’

‘We could stay a little longer if you’d like...?’

‘No, of course not. I’m just being selfish. It was nice to have the company, and you will be sorely missed around here, Harry.’

Harry smiled. ‘I’ll only be gone a few weeks at most. My place is here, you know that.’

Satine looked at him for a long moment and allowed herself the rare treat of wondering what it would be like if she accepted his advances. What would he say to her, if finally he mustered the courage to admit his feelings? What would he do? How would it feel to be in his arms?

She didn’t want Harry in such a way, but she liked to think that she could be allowed luxuries like a new romance.

It was in that moment—looking at the boy who had grown into one of the finest people she knew, partly because of his love for her—that Satine felt one of the most acute pains she had ever felt. These pains came when she least expected them. Sharp and wounding, caused by the sudden realisation that she was alone. Leostrial’s absences struck when she was not ready. How much she missed him. How clear it was that her life was never going to be normal again. She was never going to be allowed a new romance. Not because she was queen, but because her heart already belonged to another, and he would always be there, like a knife slicing into her to remind her of what she had lost.

And the agony in her traitorous heart was acute.

Her only escape was a child who might not live long. And the blame for that lay in the same man she loved. She wished she could just hate Leostrial for all that he had done. But for some shameful reason, she could not.

‘Accolon will be here soon,’ Harry said. ‘Luca said he has news of another raid in Cynis Witron.’

Accolon. Here in the same palace as Satine and Altor. The thought made her cringe.

Satine gave Harry a quick hug to wish him well and then strode down the hall into her chambers, slamming the door behind her. On her dresser sat several items,
one of which was a small hand mirror Accolon had given her on her thirteenth birthday. She looked into it carefully and could hardly recognise the woman she saw staring back. Even she could see the coldness of her beauty. Without another thought, she threw the mirror against the wall and watched in satisfaction as the glass shattered and fell to the floor.

She didn’t want him here. She didn’t want him anywhere near her son, or her life.

Perhaps the broken glass was an omen, perhaps not, but Satine decided she was not going to let Accolon affect her. She would see him and send him on his way again. He was just another nobleman for her to rise above.

A servant hurried to clean up the glass and Satine left her room to take up her dictations.

Accolon arrived with his entourage just before sunset two nights later, and was settled in the palace immediately. It had been over a year since they had last met, and Satine was not prepared for the change in him. He looked much older, and his eyes were cold and hollow.

He hugged her inappropriately, as though his life would end if he let go. Satine endured the embrace with a clenched jaw and a mantra in her mind to remind herself how this man had hurt her.

They were interrupted by a soft throat-clearing. Altor stood in the doorway, a strange, crooked smile on his face. Accolon stepped back quickly.

‘Welcome to Burmia,’ Altor murmured, somehow managing to sound sarcastic.

‘Thank you,’ Accolon replied formally.

Some time later, after the three of them had been seated and served dinner, Satine cleared her throat.

‘So, Accolon. What brings you here? You said you had something to discuss?’

He glanced at Altor, who was at the other end of the table looking utterly bored.

‘My son is more than welcome to hear anything you have to say,’ she said firmly.

‘I wanted to discuss with you the possibility of sending aid to Cynis Witron in the wake of the new attacks by the slave trade.’

‘All right,’ she replied slowly, wondering why this couldn’t have been done over the Strangers’ mind-links. ‘We’ll need to send an envoy to Cornelius. Clearly he needs some help.’

They both looked at Altor. The prince was the obvious choice. He didn’t bother returning their looks—instead, he abruptly rose from his seat and left the room. Satine ached for her son, wishing she could reach out to him, wondering what made him run at any talk of work.

Accolon looked back at her questioningly. ‘Is he all right?’ He, like everyone, knew of Altor’s ailment.

Satine shrugged, resolving not to betray her emotions. ‘He is as fine as can be expected.’

‘Will he be our messenger?’

‘If I ask him, he’ll go. He won’t like it.’

‘It’s not really his place to dislike anything his queen asks of him,’ Accolon said bluntly. Satine had an urge to hit him, to scream that he shouldn’t say a single negative word about her son. Instead she looked away, wondering if he’d be as cold if he knew that Altor was his child.

‘Satine,’ Accolon started to say, his tone changing. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘Don’t start,’ she said quickly. ‘Don’t even think about starting that. If I find out that you’ve come here to try and woo me again—’

‘All right, all right,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘Just business then.’ But something dark shadowed across his face and Satine couldn’t tell what it was.

Elixia felt her soul drift up and out of her body as it travelled to the underworld, where Adar lay in waiting. It took mere instants, but to Elixia, it felt like the longest journey of her life.

Then she arrived, one soul among a sea of souls flooding through the gates. She was like any other, and yet she was not. She stopped.

There was a gatekeeper, and Elixia knew her to be Persephone, the lover of Adar—once human but now immortal.

‘Why do you stop?’ Persephone asked, and Elixia was shocked at the sorrow in her voice. She tried to remember what she could about the goddess. Adar had kidnapped the woman in an attempt to punish her father for some insult, but had fallen in love with her, condemning her to a life in the underworld with him.

‘I will not enter,’ Elixia said and Persephone’s eyebrows rose.

‘Everyone enters.’

‘Not I.’

‘You must. There is nowhere else to go.’

‘I won’t,’ Elixia said, folding her arms. ‘I can’t.’

Persephone stared at her. ‘You must go in,’ she said simply. ‘It is just a truth. There is nowhere else.’ She sounded sad, and Elixia thought again about how she’d once been human.

‘Call Adar,’ Elixia ordered.

‘No need,’ said a dark voice, and Elixia shivered when she heard it.

‘I am not entering the underworld,’ she said as she turned to face Adar.

‘No one defies me. No one defies
death.
Everyone passes,’ he said, absolute authority in his tone. He had crossed to stand with Persephone, close but not touching. He was dressed in a cloak of human skin. Elixia felt fear engulf her. She didn’t know how to stand here and defy a god, especially one such as he.

‘She will not enter,’ said another voice, and now there were three gods standing at the gates of death. Odin, his body alight with fire, turned his head towards Elixia. As he did she had to refrain from gasping. Instead of eyes there were only empty sockets, leaking with black fluid.

He smiled as he felt her gaze on him. ‘See what your brother did to me, my dear?’

Elixia could not seem to make her mouth work.

‘Do you see?’ he asked, his voice even lower, sending a shiver over her skin.

‘Yes, of course I see,’ she whispered. ‘And so you sent him to an eternity of chaos. Is it worthy, Odin? To do such a thing in vanity to the only man who ever came close to besting you?’

Odin smiled again, and Elixia realised that nothing she could say could perturb him. Odin turned to Adar and they glared at each other for a long moment.

‘I am here to take this child to her brother, for she has killed herself in my name. A nasty trick,’ Odin added

‘She is the necromancer, then?’ Persephone said.

Odin nodded. Elixia didn’t move as she waited for Adar’s response.

‘It is not my problem, Odin. You know that. She has to go through. Ancient rules are not to be broken.’

‘There are always conditions, Adar,’ replied Odin. ‘Her blood is on my hands, as was her brother’s. We do not kill idly, Adar. You know that. But when we do, it is our right to decide what happens to the soul of that mortal. I kept her brother for my own purposes. Elixia will not pass either.’

There was a long silence as Adar thought about what had been said. He turned and started to pace.

‘Adar,’ Persephone said quietly. ‘Let her go. The brother strayed from the gate. You need not fight it, only accept it.’

The god of the underworld and his forbidden mistress stared at each other, and Elixia thought then that she had never had anyone look at her the way they looked at each other now.

Adar nodded and disappeared. Persephone turned back to them after a moment and smiled.

Odin held out his fiery hand and Elixia, swallowing her fear, took it. Then they were travelling again. She couldn’t understand anything around her, only a growing feeling of calm.

Finally they came to a marble hall. It was huge—bigger than any one room she had ever seen. The roof soared high above her head, held up by massive marble pillars. So vast was the hall, she could not even see the other side. But her wonder was fleeting, for standing in the middle of it, alone and waiting, was her brother, Prince Fern of Cynis Witron and the Elvish people.

‘Fern!’ Elixia ran to him and threw her arms around him. He didn’t return the embrace. He didn’t even acknowledge her. Instead he stared at the god who stood behind them. Elixia pulled away and looked up at Fern. And she recoiled in horror.

His eyes were balls of fire. The pupils were crackling flames, and as they turned on her Elixia felt her own
eyes well with tears. His eyes had been so beautiful. Pale, grey, stormy. And they had been substituted with these horrible, frightening things, filled only with anger and hatred.

‘Odin! Why did you bring her here?’ he yelled angrily, and gone was all the humour and laughter that made him who he was.

‘She came herself, Fern. I assume she wants to take you back.’

Fern frowned. ‘How are you going to do that?’ he asked slowly, and he seemed so strange. As if he were only partly there.

‘It’s all right, I know what to do. Just come with me now,’ she said, and he looked at her carefully for what seemed like an age.

‘I have been here in this hall for two years. I have been fighting
him
for two years. All day, and all night. It can never be over—it is eternal, this fight. I don’t know if I can ... leave.’

Elixia put her hands on either side of her brother’s face, looking into his new, frightening eyes. ‘Darling, of course you can leave. You must.’

‘My place is here now.’ There was no expression on Fern’s face. His hand gripped his sword tightly.

So she said, because she knew it was the only thing that would reach him, ‘She is waiting.’

And finally he seemed to come to himself. He looked at her, and his face changed. ‘Yes, of course,’ he whispered and hugged her tightly.

‘You forget,’ Odin said bluntly, walking closer to them, his steps echoing around the huge hall. ‘I killed Fern. He is mine. I enjoy battling him. It sates the great need of my soul.’

‘Fern has a greater purpose in life than fighting you,’ Elixia snapped.

‘Oh does he? How can you know such a thing?’

‘I know because it is plain to see, Odin. He is needed. It doesn’t matter if you can’t understand it because I am here to take him with me. I am a necromancer, and it is within my power to do so.’

Odin was silent. Eventually he sighed. ‘Perhaps this means I will get to meet you once more in real combat, where there can be an outcome.’ His body returned to its normal form, the fire doused.

‘I hope that too, Odin,’ Fern replied, and turned back to Elixia. ‘Can we go now?’ It was strangely childlike, and Elixia felt a sudden surge of overwhelming love for her brother.

‘Thank you,’ she said to the god, fighting back tears.

Odin nodded and disappeared in a flourish of flame.

‘Take my hand, brother,’ Elixia said quietly, and Fern did so. She looked at him closely. ‘Now, whatever you see, whatever I do, you have to promise me something. Do not—
do not
—make a sound. Whatever life you are being granted relies on it.’

Fern looked startled but nodded.

Then, using the powers she had been given by her dead mother, Elixia attempted to lead Fern out of limbo.

They neared the boundary that could cross them into life, and Elixia tightened her hand on her brother’s. They began to float through darkness, making their way through an endless maze of thoughts and feelings.

Finally they came to the final obstacle, the one that would see them either living or dying.

And Elixia was not at all surprised by what she saw. There, standing a short way away, shrouded in a mist of darkness but just as lovely as Elixia had ever seen her, stood Jane, the single pearl around her neck illuminating her for them to see.