Chapter Sixteen Lettle #2
‘You seek to frighten me? You know my tale, I have lived with fear every day of my life. Kill me if you must, but do not toy with me. You defy death? Well, I defy fear.’
Her speech did not move Afa as she’d hoped. The storm she’d seen in his eyes had stilled, and his eyes glittered as he looked down at the bone she had thrown.
He went to retrieve it, picking it up gently in his hands.
‘Back home with you,’ he said softly, as though speaking to a pet or a small child–not a thigh bone.
He pressed the bone into the grave next to Lettle and she watched in revulsion as the soil reclaimed it, turning liquid briefly once more.
‘Sleep well, Varnya,’ he whispered.
Lettle was astonished by his change in demeanour. Gone was the immortal who had likened himself to a god; in his place stood a man grieving for an old friend.
It reminded her of her friend who she was determined to save.
Afa wiped at his tears and turned to Lettle. ‘I will not ensnare you within these confines, I vow it.’
‘Why? What makes me different from the others?’
‘Because you can fix it,’ he said quietly. ‘You can finally fix it all.’
‘Fix what? Is this about the obeah? Why are the ones here soulless?’
‘They were all soulless once. Though we had the power to create them, we did not have the power to spark life.’
‘Then why does Ajax have a soul? Help me understand.’
But Afa pouted. ‘I am famished.’ It was like he was a child again. ‘Might we break our fast first?’
Lettle was getting tired of his deflection. She pointed to the ground. ‘Fine, grow a plum tree, a tomato plant, a whole vineyard for all I care.’
Afa watched her, his gaze discerning. ‘I know you must be hungry. It matters not if I do not eat for a day or two. But you need nourishment.’
He acts like he cares for me.
She began to laugh.
‘What is it?’ he said, a tentative smile on his lips.
She wiped the mirth from her eyes. ‘I think your madness is catching.’
His smile was gone in an instant. ‘I am not mad.’
It was a lie, and they both knew it.
‘Come,’ he said, leading her and Ajax towards a grove of trees. ‘It is not a vineyard, but an orchard.’
He touched the bark of each tree as he passed, his magic calling forth their fruit until their branches were laden: apples, pears, pomegranates, oranges. Ajax jumped into the branches of the nearest mulberry tree and began gorging himself on the berries.
Afa waited for Lettle to pick what she wanted before selecting a single apple.
‘There are chairs this way,’ he said. The orchard opened out into a clearing where ivy had run rampant through the shrubs and plants. In the centre of a patch of overgrown grass were two gold and silver thrones.
‘When you said chairs, I didn’t think you meant thrones.’
‘Once, but now they are just chairs of uncommon discomfort.’
Lettle sat down gingerly.
Never has my ass been cradled by something quite as opulent, she thought. Then she bit into a pear and groaned as the sweetness burst across her tongue.
‘Good, is it not?’ he said.
‘Yes.’ Afa had been right, she was starving.
His thumb absently polished the red skin of the apple, not eating it.
‘Is it your connection to the earth that sustains you?’ Lettle asked.
‘It sustains my life force, not my body.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘When I starve myself my mortal body wastes away, my muscles desiccate, until I become more skeleton than human. Like a tree in the throes of winter.’
‘But you still do not die?’
‘I enter a comatose state, somewhere between life and death. I can remain that way for many years, barely breathing, barely thinking.’
She realised he had said ‘when’, not ‘if’. ‘So you’ve done it.’
‘Yes, frequently,’ he admitted. ‘Once, I remained asleep for two hundred and eighty-two years. And I still did not die.’
‘But you bleed, I know you do. I’ve seen Alder hurt himself.’
‘Yes, but I heal quickly too.’
‘Too quickly to cause serious damage?’
An expression manifested that Lettle hadn’t seen on his face before: embarrassment. She wondered how many times he had tried to end his life.
Pointedly, she set the finished pear core on the ground between them. ‘Tell me about the obeah.’
He sighed. ‘If I tell you about the obeah, I must first tell you about the prophecy.’
‘Then tell me, Afa. I need to understand.’
He nodded. ‘And if you understand, you’ll help me fix it?’
She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she was prepared to lie. ‘I’ll try.’
Suddenly his arms were around her. She froze, her heart in her throat. Then she realised it was only an embrace.
‘Thank you, Lettle.’
She extracted herself gently from his arms. ‘Tell me then.’
He took a deep breath then spoke. ‘There were many wars between the sorcerers and the fae after the first. They realised strength alone could no longer stop us, so they tried to assassinate me, poison me. They killed Cevar first, lured him away with the promise of riches then sent me his head. Bish died trying to protect his hamlet from the fae’s magic. Guso took an arrow meant for me.
‘Soon it was just me and Hady against the might of the fae.’
‘What of the elves?’
‘They had retreated from the world, their god warning them of the curse to come.’
‘So you did curse the fae?’
Afa’s eyes flashed with annoyance. ‘Let me tell the story you have so yearned for.’
‘Go on.’
‘Hady and I lived in Kaa’pah’lie reigning over the humans as emperor and empress.
They welcomed her, despite being fae, for our people were always loving, always welcoming.
They had long begged for the war to end.
I had come up with a plan to harness the extent of our god’s power to do just that.
Though we were sorcerers, we were not invulnerable, and so I drafted a spell that had never been done before.
I knew that by binding to the earth I would have enough power to end all wars.
A risky endeavour, for we could not anticipate the sacrifice it would entail.
But Hady didn’t agree with the plan. She had not recovered from the death she had seen when the obeah turned on our people.
She was wary.’ He paused. His expression as he’d been recounting the story had been indifferent, but now it darkened like a rain cloud.
‘What happened?’
‘The fae captured Hady.’ Time had not blunted his anger. ‘Have you ever loved so fiercely that you would do anything to never let them go?’ he asked.
Lettle’s hand went to her throat.
‘Yes.’
‘And have you ever broken their trust?’
Her palms prickled with heat and she didn’t answer.
‘I had promised Hady that I would not speak the spell to life. I had promised her on the beating heart of our unborn children. Twins.’
‘She was pregnant?’
He dipped his head in assent, as though voicing it would be too hard. ‘When they took her, I broke that promise. I considered it for less than a moment. I simply said the words. And she watched through my eyes.’
‘What happened?’
He shook his head, scared again. ‘If I tell you, you won’t like me any more.’
Lettle understood Afa a bit more in that moment. He was one of those people who thrived on adoration, a feeling she could not relate to, as few people liked Lettle when they met her–and she preferred it that way.
‘I need to know, Afa. Or I won’t help you.’
He held out a hand. Lettle looked around in confusion until she saw an obeah appear, the grimoire between its jaws. It dropped it into Afa’s waiting hand.
‘Why do the obeah that live here have no light within them?’ Lettle asked.
Afa frowned as though he didn’t understand, but then comprehension rippled across his brow. ‘They have no souls.’
‘Why not?’
‘I may have the power of a god, but I am not a god. I cannot give souls to the things I make.’
Lettle looked at Ajax in the tree above her. He shone just as bright in magesight as he usually did.
‘But Ajax has a soul.’
‘He does,’ Afa said. He cradled the grimoire to his chest as though it were a babe.
‘This was never meant to touch elf or fae hands, you know.’
‘Then why write it?’
He answered her with a question. ‘Why is it that you call it a grimoire?’
‘It was what Najma called it.’
‘The prince whose obeah found it?’
‘Yes.’
He stroked the leather then set it on the ground between them. ‘It was never a grimoire. It has spells, yes, but it was not intended for anyone’s eyes but my own. You see, it is a diary.’
‘A diary?’
‘Or perhaps a map to find myself.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Lettle said.
‘Everything you need to know is bound into the pages.’
‘I told you I do not speak the human language.’
‘No one does. Not any more. So I must read it to you,’ he said. There was something in his tone that made Lettle want to say no. But this was why they were here, wasn’t it? For answers?
He opened the first page and ran his hands over the ink. He sighed, concaving inwards with a deep weariness. When he looked up at her she expected his gaze to be as mournful as his breath, but instead it burned with anger.
‘When I started writing this, I had hoped it would be my salvation…’ his voice petered off into a whisper, all rage spent in a few words.
Then he flicked through the book until he found the page he was looking for. ‘You must forgive my rendition. Words and language have changed somewhat over the years; I may stutter as I translate some of the meaning.’
Ever proud.
His voice deepened as he spoke, the years settling into place and his face changed once more.
Lettle shivered.
Here was an ancient being as old as the earth.