The Ascension (3 page)

“I’l try not to,” he said softly, touching her lips with his fingertip. “I shal say the same about you.” He kissed her again then, and this time they only split when Dr. Brown started muttering about the possibility of the world ending while they were stil busy. With a shared smile, the two of them headed for their respective sleep pods, lay down, and closed the lids.

Sparks had a hard time settling down in the sleep pod, and not just because he found himself thinking about Gem. Gem was stil as beautiful and captivating as she was the first time he saw her. Dr.

Brown had said that getting into Myriad was about your state of mind, but what state of mind? Sparks decided to try for something
serene
, clearing his thoughts as best he could as he drifted into a
somnolent
haze, heading towards sleep. He found himself thinking, for some reason, of birdsong.

Birdsong, the feel of dappled sunlight, and the rustle of wind through trees…

He was standing in a forest. Even knowing that they were trying to get there, the shock of the sudden transition was enough to make Sparks jump.

He clanked as he did so. Looking down, he saw that he was wearing chain mail armor, a white tabard slung over it and emblazoned with a sunburst design.

A sword hung at his hip.

Gem stood just a few feet away. She looked as she had in Henry Word’s castle, unchanged by the shift to wherever this was. Sparks could certainly think of less pleasant things to see on arriving on another world. As though summoned by the thought, Rio stepped out from behind a tree. Like Sparks, the other boy was wearing armor, only his tabard had a wolf’s head design, a design mirrored in the pommel of the sword he wore.

“Where are the others?” he asked. Gem shook her head.

shook her head.

“I haven’t seen them. Maybe they didn’t make it through.”

Sparks nodded.

“Dr. Brown did say that maybe only those who were meant to be in Myriad might get there.”

“Assuming we’re in Myriad,” Rio pointed out.

“This looks a lot like the Wickedly Woods in Anachronia to me.”

“I don’t think so,” Gem said.

Sparks didn’t either. While al woods probably looked the same to someone like Rio from one of the inner cities, having been raised in the country, he could see the differences. The trees weren’t the same, nor was the forest floor. Where the enclosing canopy of the Wickedly Woods had made for clear ground between the trees, here shrubs and wild flowers took up most of the space. It didn’t feel the same, either. There was something
tranquil
about this wood. It seemed like the sort of place that smal animals could
forage
without being pounced on by shadow creatures or dragons.

“It’s definitely not the Wickedly Woods,” he said. Rio made a disbelieving sound.

“And how would you know that? Are you an expert on woods, al of a sudden.”

“Probably more than you.”

“Boys,” Gem interrupted. “I do know the Wickedly Woods. I’ve spent enough time in them over the last couple of months. This definitely isn’t them. The only question is what we do now.”

“We should try to find a path,” Sparks suggested, setting off in a random direction. The others fol owed, picking their way through the undergrowth as delicately as they could until they reached a rough track that meandered through the trees.

“So,” Sparks asked, “which way?”

“Either is as good,” Gem replied. “It’s not like we know which way we’re going. We just have to hope we meet someone who can point us in the right direction.”

“Preferably without eating us, the way Dr.

Brown said they might,” Rio added.

That was a sobering thought, but Sparks did his best to ignore it. A faint
zephyr
of breeze came from their left, and on no more than that he set off in that direction. At least it would be cooler in the armor that way. They marched along in single file, keeping an eye on the trees. A few birds and smal animals flitted between them, but other than that there didn’t seem to be anything around.

A
cacophony
of horns broke through the silence, along with a dul rumble that shivered through the ground. Tension ran taut through the three of them as they waited, scanning the brush ahead in an effort to spot what could be making such a racket, but a bend in the track
obscured
it.

The first deer sprang around the bend at a ful run. It was huge, bigger than any deer Sparks had seen before, and it had the antlers to match. A moment of
prudence
made Sparks pul back to let the thing past, and it flashed by in a rattle of hooves on the track. More fol owed, in a wave of panicked flesh that rumbled by with snorts and gasps of breath.

Caught up in the
chaos
, Sparks could barely keep track of Gem and Rio. Gem appeared and disappeared in glimpses between the fleeing animals, seeming almost to dance into the few gaps left there. Rio stood
obstinately
, and promptly found himself knocked sideways by one of the creatures.

He would undoubtedly be bruised afterwards. Only when the flow of bounding animals started to
abate
a little did Sparks make his way over to Gem. A few stragglers loped past, but the majority seemed to have gone.

“What could have spooked them?” Gem asked. Sparks shook his head.

“With the sound of those horns, I think we’ve wandered into the middle of a hunt. We need to get out of here, Gem.”

Even as he said it, Sparks knew it was too late. He caught the tremor of nearby branches, but by then, arrows were already flying. One struck one of the straggling deer, but more came close to them.

“They wouldn’t shoot at us, would they?” Gem asked.

“Why not?” Rio countered. For once, Sparks agreed with him. In a rare moment of
rapport
with the other boy, he looked over to him.

“Run?”

Rio nodded.

“Run.”

They ran, and Sparks, being the athlete that They ran, and Sparks, being the athlete that he was, sprinted with incredible speed, despite being
encumbered
by the armor he wore. Arrows flashed past, and he tried to weave as he ran to present a harder target to the archers. The worst part was that he couldn’t even see them. A glance back revealed nothing behind them as they ran, but arrows stil whistled from the woods.

“Into the trees,” Gem yel ed, darting from the track. Sparks did his best to fol ow. The running was harder through the undergrowth, forcing them to dodge fal en branches and tangles of low shrubs, but at least the surrounding tree trunks afforded the three of them some protection from the unseen people
assailing
them. Though, as an arrow thudded into a trunk near his ear, Sparks began to suspect that it might not be al that much protection.

It was probably a good time to find out if ruler words stil worked here.

“
Deleterious
,” Sparks yel ed, pointing at an approaching arrow without stopping. It exploded into splinters. The others obviously saw him do it, because soon, they were using the same word, reducing incoming arrows to fragments when they could find the breath to.

The hunting horns stil sounded behind them in a
portent
of coming violence. Sparks tried to think of some way out of the chase, and when he couldn’t, found himself hoping that Gem would be able to. Sparks knew he could keep running, but for how long? How long would the others be able to keep up? A few feet away, Gem and Rio looked to be running wel , but could it last? Even with arrows passing inches away, they couldn’t just flee indefinitely.

As though the thought summoned it, Sparks found himself jerked to a halt so suddenly that he fel .

A glance back revealed the problem. His tabard was pinned neatly to a tree, caught by an arrow as surely as if it had been nailed there. He twisted, trying to get free, and another arrow pierced the cloth on the other side catching it
inextricably
. The fabric was strong enough to hold him nearly immobile.

“Sparks!”

Gem stopped in her flight, and the moment she did, Rio stopped too. It was a mistake. More arrows came. Gem and Rio cried out as the arrows hit them; Gem’s taking her through the shoulder, hit them; Gem’s taking her through the shoulder, while Rio’s struck through his thigh. Seeing Gem hurt, twisting in pain against the tree she was pinned to, was enough to
catalyze
Sparks into action, wrenching at the arrows that held him. They proved impossible to move.

Figures stalked from the trees then, watching the three of them warily, as though they might pose some threat despite being injured and restrained by the presence of the arrows. The first ones to arrive were strange, goat-legged and goat-horned, but otherwise human looking, carrying bows of gold and spreading out to encircle their three captives.

The next figures to arrive were inhumanly beautiful. They stood, tal , proud, and arrayed in shades of green that matched the forest, making them seem
arboreal
, creatures of the woods. Again they held bows. There was something almost
primeval
that seemed to emanate from them, a sense that they were ancient, and had seen things that Sparks never would. They spread out, none of them making a move to
ameliorate
the suffering of either Gem or Rio.

Two more figures stepped from the trees. At any other time, Sparks would have focused on the man Dressed in the harlequin patchwork of color, the
plethora
of shades almost kaleidoscopic in the light of the forest. He had spent weeks fol owing Sparks, after al . Somehow though, he couldn’t take his eyes from the woman who walked beside that jester-like man. Red-gold hair fel wel beyond her shoulders, and though she looked like she might be nearly forty, she was easily the most beautiful woman Sparks had ever seen. There was something
ethereal
, almost spirit-like, about her as she walked over with steps that most dancers would have kil ed to achieve. She seemed like the sort of woman poets would have
rhapsodized
over.

“Who are you?” Sparks demanded, ignoring the fact that he probably wasn’t in a position to demand anything, or indeed to do much of anything other than try to stay
submissive
and wait for the new arrivals to free him. “Let my friends go.”

“Shh.”

The woman stepped close to him, placing a finger to Sparks’ lips to
quell
his questions. Her brief glance at the others wasn’t without concern, but the speed with which she looked back to Sparks made it clear that he was the focus of her attention.

She was as tal as him, and slender. She seemed to be studying Sparks’ face, and he couldn’t help but do the same. There was something… familiar about her. Her eyes were a deep green that matched his own, while the lines of her features were almost like looking into a mirror.

She smiled, and the
scintillating
radiance of that smile seemed to catch the whole group with her up in it. Her slender finger moved to Sparks’ cheeks, tracing them delicately like she could hardly believe that he was real.

“Ah,

sweet
serendipity
,” she said in a melodious voice that seemed to Sparks like someone pouring sunlight straight into his ears. “At last, I have found you.”

“Do I know you?” Sparks asked.

The woman shook her head.

“No, but I know you, my darling. I would know you anywhere. You are my son.”

Pinned to the tree as she was, Gem could barely have the
fortitude
to deal with the pain of the arrow in her shoulder. The look on Sparks’ face was almost worse, though. Gem wanted to go to him so badly then. An
acute
stab of pain as she tried to move reminded her of why she couldn’t. Trapped as she was, Gem simply had to
abide
as the strange woman kept talking.

“You are my son,” she repeated. “And since I am the Summer Queen, you are the Summer Prince of the Fairy Courts.”

“I think you must be mistaken,” Sparks replied. “I mean, do I look al
miniature
and sparkly?

I certainly don’t have wings.”

Gem heard the certainty there. The woman claiming to be Sparks’ mother stepped back.

“Do you think that is what we are?” She nodded at the waiting men, al of whom were tal and muscular, looking more like the other members of one of Sparks’ footbal team than the classic images of fairies. “What our kind looks like should be
manifest
, my son.”

Sparks started shaking his head.

“I don’t know
what
you are.”

“They… they might be fairies,” Gem managed, gritting her teeth to ignore the pain. It seemed to
permeate
through al of her now. “I think the smal , winged thing is…something people made up for children. I remember hearing old stories about them being tal and beautiful.”

They were certainly that. The fairy woman looked over to her with a surprisingly
benevolent
smile.

“Your… friend is correct. Mortals have sought to portray us as less than we are because they fear us. They wanted to think of sweet, pretty nothings, not creatures who could
enthrall
and destroy them.

Not creatures to fear and love.”

Sparks kept shaking his head. Gem found herself torn between pity for the pain he had to be feeling and the hope that he would simply lie to the Summer Queen soon, and say that he believed her, since it didn’t look like she was being unpinned from the tree until Sparks did. Besides, Gem couldn’t deny the resemblance between them. Sparks, it seemed, could.