57. Chapter Fifty-Seven
57
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
ELODIE
“ S o, should I be calling you General, too?” I asked half an hour later as we made our way out of the palace, every guard we passed greeting her. I had gleefully raided the bag of makeup Alouette had dumped on my bed; not much of it was my shade, but sweeping on some mascara and lip-gloss for the first time in forever made me feel a little more normal.
She’d also brought a change of clothes, that from the colour and multitude of pockets, were definitely some kind of palace uniform. Black trousers fit snugly, while a thick, dark-grey jumper—that was too big—was tucked into the waistband. More black came in the form of a fitted jacket, pockets only suitable for weaponry staggered across the chest.
As Alouette led us through the maze of corridors, I had been so sure that around every corner Bastian would be lurking, ready to pitch a fit at my audacity to leave without his say so.
“No, don’t be silly.” She laughed. “You must call me, Oh Mighty Warrior Queen General Alouette .”
“Got it.” I rolled my eyes as we came to a door that opened out onto a wide set of steps without being accosted by the prince. A tiled roof covered the view of the darkening sky, and the night's chill swept over my skin despite the layers.
Faint voices carried on the wind as I crossed my arms over myself, tucking my hands in for warmth. Following Alouette’s lithe form down the steps, we headed towards the thicket of trees that edged the boundary of the gravelled space. Dots of light illuminated the few gaps in the trunks, and I realised I hadn’t thought to ask where we were going. The cool, crisp night filled my lungs in that way that fuelled me, like the air itself was magik.
“So, how did it go?” she asked, breaking the quiet as she pulled a thin, silver flask from one of her own many pockets.
“You mean how did it go after you pushed me alone into a room with one of the people I despise most in the world?”
“Yep.” Unscrewing the cap, she took a mouthful of whatever was inside.
“How do you think it went?” Our steps crunched on the tiny stones. “Mostly he grunted out some reluctant answers and tried to destroy my mind. Completely on character.”
Alouette held the flask out to me. “But you did get some answers?”
“Yeah,” I said, accepting what I was hoping was alcohol. “And now my brain hurts with the reality of them. Life was a lot easier a couple of weeks ago.”
“But a couple of weeks ago, you didn’t have the privilege of knowing me.”
“Ah, very true, and what an honour that is.” I nudged her with my elbow as notes of distant music floated to us.
“Oh Killer, you have no idea.” She laughed as our feet met the few feet of grass before the looming trees began. Heading for the slight break in their line, a worn path wound into their depth.
She didn’t ask what answers I had gotten as we picked our way through, and for that I was grateful. I would tell her—she was probably the only person I had here to tell—but not yet. Not until I had sorted through them a little more and right now, that sort of thinking was on pause as I let her lead me through the trees.
“Drink,” she demanded, tapping the flask I still held. Who was I to say no to the General?
Bringing it to my lips, I knocked it back, the burn as it went down making my eyes water, but I managed to keep my dignity with only a small cough escaping me.
“That’s better.” She smiled at me, her eyes glowing in a way that reminded me Alouette was something else. Something with fangs and claws and a grace that I didn’t understand.
I didn’t care.
I was something else now, too.
The trail was coming to an end, the lights ahead growing brighter. The noise louder, clearer. The collective voices of many people jumbled together, accompanied by the crackle of fires and low music that carried over it all. Slowing my steps, unsure if this had been a good idea after all, Alouette turned to me. Reading the hesitation that must have been stamped over my face, she tapped the flask I still held.
Taking another quick mouthful of the burning liquid, I handed it back.
“You’ll be fine, you need this.” I heard the words she didn’t say. That being alone in that room wasn’t a good idea right now. And she was right, I just didn’t know what was waiting those few steps beyond the cover of the trees. Without waiting, she stalked forward, and I hurried after her, breaking into a large open space crowded with people.
I braced myself for what could happen, for the images that could press against my mind at the slightest provocation. It hadn’t happened in a while, but the old anxiety was still there. I kept my gaze light, flitting from one person to the next, avoiding eye contact where possible.
Two huge bonfires blazed against the dark sky, at least fifty or so people milling around them. Talking and singing and dancing. Some were sat on the logs that lay around the fires or stood huddled in groups, cups and bottles clasped in their hands, bodies silhouetted against the light of the flame. Others tended to the smaller fires contained within stacked blocks that were scattered around, metal grills set over them. The smell of the meat roasting atop wafted towards me, my stomach growling in appreciation.
Beyond them, past the dark sprawling forest, was the volcano. Its high slopes barely distinguishable against the night sky save from the glowing rivers of molten rock that snaked down its peaks in lines of blinding crimson.
A few people turned towards us as we moved from the shadows of the trees and into the light of the fire, hands raised in Alouette’s direction, and curious glances in mine.
Had they been there yesterday when The Darkness had attacked? Sent to the breach to protect the palace? It was likely.
Had they seen me use magik, seen it attack me when it could of chosen anyone?
But everyone seemed relaxed, and there was no standing to attention or salutes as there had been through the palace. It was smiles and laughter. A far cry from the last time I’d seen these soldiers assembled. And they were undoubtedly soldiers.
Though their clothes were slightly more casual than I had seen before, they were still unmistakably a uniform, patches and insignias that made no sense to me woven into them. Honed weapons caught the light of the flames as they moved. The hilt of a dagger sheathed on a thigh or the barrel of a gun on another’s hip.
“I’ll find you in a minute,” Alouette said. I turned to protest that there was no way she was leaving me alone here, but the flash of her bright hair was already disappearing between a group of laughing soldiers.
Now what the fuck do I do?
Edging through the crowd, I aimed to get closer to the fire before deciding on what to do next. I wasn’t one for parties, or people in general. It was Polly who was at ease in these situations. She could breeze through throwing out her warm smiles and finding something to talk about with anyone who came along.
And they would come. Polly was like a beacon of sunshine, and being around her, that warmth sunk into you. I had always been quieter, more reserved. I often wondered who I would have become had she not found me that day in the playground. Her offer of friendship so innocently genuine, it had changed both our lives.
My heart grew heavy as I pictured her; how much had Nanna told her? How much did Nanna even know?
Making it to the low logs grouped around the biggest fire, I took the seat nearest to the flames, eager to let its warmth chase away the chill air and the ache in my chest. Staring into the blazing wood that sat red-hot at its base, the music and drone of voices became a comforting blanket of noise, and whatever it was I had drank from Alouette’s flask worked through me, rounding a little of those sharp edges.
The air around me stirred as a wind picked up the strands of white hair that trailed down my back, its touch familiar. On instinct, I turned, my eyes locking on the treeline at the far edge of the clearing, but the light from the fire cast it in nothing but darkness as I willed my sight to see past the glare.
Sticks crunched a few feet away, and I turned back, hair falling gently into place as I looked up to see a face out of the many here that I was familiar with.
Lev sat on the worn log, a glass bottle held in one hand, keeping distance between us as the burning wood crackled. I let my eyes wander over him, at the dark uniform that made his pale skin even lighter, the insignia badge sewn on his chest similar to the one I’d seen Alouette wear.
“You looked a little lost.” His smile was genuine, warm brown eyes crinkling.
“Yeah, that about sums this up.”
I shivered a little, wondering where I could grab a coat from the next time I ventured out. “How are none of you in coats?”
Lev frowned for a second in confusion, glancing down at himself before he let out a knowing laugh.
“When you’re from Incaendium, you tend to run a bit hotter than most, especially during the warmer months. It’s easy to forget that not everyone is like that. Especially here.” He twisted around as if looking for something before he began tugging at a grey checkered blanket that had been draped over the wooden log next to him.
He shook it out, dislodging mud and leaves and a few sticks before handing it to me with a small smile. “It’s better than nothing.”
Gratefully, I took it, draping it around myself and tucking it in tight.
“How are you, after, you know, everything the other day?” he asked too casually, eyes flicking to my back as I remembered he had seen me in the aftermath. Had seen the raw mess of my ragged wounds, had held me steady.
“It’s… healed.” I answered with a half-truth, twisting at the gold rings on my fingers.
I wasn’t about to go into the fragile state of my mind sitting by the fire with a soldier I didn’t know. He nodded as I pulled at the blanket by my collar.
“What’s all this for, anyway?” I gestured to the others, the buzz of conversation peppered with laughter. The sky now dark enough that only the crescent moon and firelight lit the clearing.
“Tonight is Meirskajatrist. Technically it’s to celebrate when Suri’s temper raised Meirskja, but mostly it’s an excuse for the units to let off steam.” He left out what it was exactly they needed to blow off steam for, but we both knew.
“Meirskja?” I asked, the word unfamiliar.
“The volcano, the big one you can see no matter where you are. I know we’ve already met, but I’m Lev.” He held out his hand. “And I’m sure your name isn’t really Killer.”
The tension of a moment ago lifted as I laughed, gripping his hand with my own. “Elodie.”
“I kinda prefer Killer, if I’m honest.”
“That’s because it’s a top tier nickname,” came a voice from nearby, and I turned, an easy grin on my face as Alouette bumped her way past the nearest group of people, two drinks held in her hand. “But it’s my nickname, Lev, so you’ll have to find your own.”
I didn’t bother asking how she had heard us, let alone over the noise, but I did roll my eyes at her as she sank down next to me.
“Please don’t.” I levelled a look at Lev who laughed in response.
“Drink up,” Alouette ordered, handing over one of the cups, and I took a cautious sip of the brown liquid, grimacing at the unfamiliar taste and the burn that confirmed its contents included some kind of alcohol.
“What in the gods is this?” Lev reached over, laying a hand on the side that I wasn’t holding, careful not to let our fingers touch. Arching a brow, I was about to ask what in the gods he was doing when heat spread around the cup warming my frozen fingers. The liquid bubbled just slightly before he pulled away.
“It’s better warm,” was all he said as he took a sip of his own drink. I followed suit, and while it still wasn’t great, it definitely was better.
Someone else joined us by the fire, dressed in a uniform much thicker than Lev’s. The flames illuminated his brown skin and umber eyes that shined independent of the firelight. His black hair was braided close to his scalp with tiny silver hoops twined throughout.
Holding his hands out to the fire, he looked up as someone else moved closer, the ground crunching under heavy boots—another soldier.
“That time already?” the standing soldier asked.
“I’ve just sat down.” He deadpanned.
“Perfect timing, then.” The soldier grinned.
Before I could ask what was happening, Alouette spoke. “Ansel’s Grandmother.” She gestured towards the man with silver threaded through his hair. “She was a Story Keeper, and while he possesses very little talent himself, he’s still better than the rest of us when it comes to tales round the fire. So, we let him take centre stage every now and then. Gives him some practice.”
“Let me? These stories are told under duress!” He waved to the others who had wandered closer, now filling the empty spaces on the logs or crowding around the fire.
“Stop being a whiny bitch, you love it.”
“Do you want a story, or are you just going to insult me?”
“A story, of course. But insults are still on the table.”
Ansel shot her an unamused look, and I pressed my lips together to contain my smile. Plenty of people hadn’t come over, still continuing the party, the music playing and their voices a hum that didn’t quite reach this newest gathering.
“Here,” someone said in my direction, and I looked up to see Old Roger handing over something wrapped in paper, steam curling into the frigid air.
“Oh, thank you.” I reached out in surprise to take what was offered, peeling back the top to see a thick bread roll full of grilled meat, the grease staining the paper a little.
Alouette tucked straight into her own one and I followed suit, savouring the flavours that melted in my mouth.
“Get on with it then!” A voice called out, and quiet laughter spilled from those around, all faces focused on Ansel.
Ansel sat up straighter, taking in a breath of the icy air, and it felt as though even the trees leaned in a little closer. Keeping his eyes on the flames, Ansel began.
“Before there was us, there was nothing. Before there were birds and trees and all manner of creatures, there was only darkness. It was not a darkness of fear and bad things, nor was it a darkness of comfort and safety. It just was.
“All things in the universe need a balance, and so, a spark of light was born, and from that spark grew the mightiest blaze of them all. A light so bright, so hot, so powerful, there was no choice but for it to hang high in the sky, illuminating the world and sweeping away the dark as it drifted through the clouds. And so, Xol was created.
“But even the mightiest of beings need rest, and one night as he allowed the dark night to sweep over the world, he realised he was not alone. For there, shining in the dark, with the dark, was the most beautiful creation he had ever seen. Where Lune came from no one knows. Maybe she was there all along, the night so dark her light was hidden, or maybe she was created as Xol had been.” I couldn’t help but glance at the sky, to the crescent moon watching over us as Ansel spoke. His voice was melodic, soothing, a caress that wove through the words and I hung onto every one.
“Entranced by this new being,” Ansel continued, “Xol reached for her, and to his surprise, she reached back and together they made the sky their home. They say their union broke the foundations of the world so was their power together.
“For millennia, they shared the sky, bathing half the world in each of their lights as it spun beneath them. As Lune pulled the tides and Xol soaked the ground in his rays, the very earth bloomed.
“With such a love as theirs, it wasn’t long before Lune’s womb grew heavy with child, and when her time came, even the winds stopped to pay attention, for this was a moment like no other. Though six times Luna’s womb would swell and 7 goddesses she would gift to the world, this was the first.
“And so, she was born, as beautiful as her mother who pushed her into the world. Tieralla was the first being whose feet had touched the earth. It’s said that with every step she took, flowers grew in abundance. Where she slept at night, under the watchful eyes of her parents, great forests burst forth. She wandered alone, blanketing the world in verdant hills, and groves of oaks, and fields of wildflowers. But alone she was, for Xol and Lune remained high in the sky.
“A second time, Lune’s womb swelled, and again she bore a goddess. Zerua swept into the world, and before Xol could deposit her onto the earth alongside her sister, Zerua was caught on an errant wind. In terror, Lune watched as her daughter was ripped from Xol’s arms until the lilting peal of laughter blew through the skies, and Zerua glided past them. A child able to walk on earth and master the sky.
“A third time, Lune and Xol’s unions proved fruitful, and soon Lune was bigger than she had been yet. Though this time, it was not easy like it had been with her previous daughters. This time, the child within roiled like the thunderclouds Zerua liked to summon.”
I glanced around, seeing the crowd that had joined us listening with rapt attention as Ansel weaved his tale through the frost laden air.
“Sooner than expected, her time came, and out of her she pushed a beautiful daughter just like the others. Yet this time, there was something different, for the child screamed and screamed and would not let Xol or Lune pass them to the earth.
“As it had been while inside her, the child thrashed and those around her could do nothing but look on. And as they looked on, the little goddess began to vibrate, to shake so violently that at first they didn’t see. They didn’t see as she started to break apart, to become two beings.
“Xol and Lune were in such a state of disbelief, they forgot to keep a grip on their children, and the little goddesses plummeted to the earth below. Even Zerua was not fast enough to catch her new sisters. Lune’s scream, the scream of a mother’s terror for her children, cleaved the worlds apart, enough they say that it was when the first rifts into Hell were formed. But there was nothing to be done.” I could see it, the tiny children plunging through the air as the ground rose to meet them. Hear their mothers scream in the winds that jostled the jasmine-scented flames crackling around us.
“As they neared their end, power surged up towards them. Whether it was their own or some inherent gift from the universe, no one knows. As the first little goddess hit the earth, the dirt and grass and flowers grown there by Tieralla turned into the first great lake. Its waters cradled the child, depositing her on the muddy banks and so Adria, goddess of water and the sea and all things beneath, was created.
“At the same moment her twin hit the earth, so did the second newest little goddess. Yet no body of water was waiting for her. Instead, she plunged right through the earth to its very core, to the heat and fire and stone of the world. The shocked silence only pierced by the lingering notes of Lune’s scream. The ground began to grind and buckle and rise, until up rose a mountain bigger than any seen yet. From the top, clawing her way through molten liquid that dribbled down its side—drawn from the earth’s core itself—came Suri, Goddess of fire and flame and embers.
“Exhausted from her labours with the twins, Lune declared that there would be no more goddesses brought forth from her. Another millennia came and went with Xol and Lune watching over their children from their domain in the skies. They grew into their powers, filling the world with each affinity. And just like any group of sisters, they laughed and fought and cried and raged and danced. Their very emotions shaping the land we now call home.”
Even as the last of his words rang with a finality, I waited for Ansel to continue, but instead, his eyes met mine for just a second, a small smile lighting them before he turned away.
Story time was over, I guess.
“What about the rest? I thought he said there were 7 goddesses?” I half whispered to Alouette as others began to talk to those next to them. The roaring of the fire, that had seemed to quieten as he spoke, returned.
“There are, but you don’t become a great storyteller by giving away the whole story in one go,” she said as she stood, stretching out her limbs before offering me a hand and pulling me up. “Always leave them wanting more.”
It was a fair point, but I couldn’t help being a little put out that I didn’t get to hear more.
Those who had wandered over to listen began to move away, breaking off into groups or leaving to find friends who had decided against stories by flame light. The noise ratcheted up as music blared through the clearing, the revelry kicking up a gear as they used a volcano as an excuse to let loose. I wondered if now was the time to leave. I wasn’t one of them, I was a stranger dragged into this world. An intruder.
Alouette caught my glance at the gap in the trees we had stepped through. “Let go, just for a moment. Just for tonight. Right now, everything’s ok. We both know tomorrow that might not be the case.”
I took the flask she held out, let myself swallow down more burning liquid that warmed me better than the fire had—the blanket falling to pool by my feet—and took her hand as she wound through the soldiers taking the advice she had given me. A faint breeze threaded through my other hand.
It didn’t matter that the last few days had been overwhelming in every sense; right now wasn’t the time to worry about that. Right now, I was going to enjoy myself, because she was right—who knew when I would have the chance to do this again?