Chapter Thirty-Four Yeeran
Chapter Thirty-Four
Yeeran
Yeeran didn’t know how many rocks she had lifted, but her hands left red handprints on the stone. She would claw her way back into Mosima if she had to. The tunnel had entirely collapsed, flattening into a plateau of rock. Somewhere beneath her was the city.
Pila, are you there? She would ask her mind the question every so often, but no one spoke back.
The spell must have worked, that’s all there is to it. Her thoughts didn’t comfort her like she had hoped.
She distracted herself by imagining what Pila would look like as a human. Would she be tall? Would she retain her silver eyes? How would she sound when she spoke?
The sound of drumfire behind her had quietened and Yeeran hoped Mortah had managed to rein in the might of the army. The coup heralded a new dawn for the Elven Lands. With no chieftains to lead, they would have an opportunity to reform.
‘We can begin negotiations for the Bleeding Field again. The fae will finally be able to rebuild Lorhan,’ she said to no one but herself.
If the fae still live.
The rock she was about to move began to tremble. And then it did the strangest thing. It began to melt.
The heat of it was so great that Yeeran had to jump back. She looked around. More and more of the stones were liquefying. They convalesced into a pool of fire, leaving a mirage of heat wavering above it.
The lava began to part in the centre, as though draining away. Yeeran had to avert her eyes as something as bright as the sun pushed through the molten rock.
The fray was so much larger than Yeeran could have ever appreciated until she was this close to it.
The hole the fray had made kept growing until Yeeran could see the edge of the city underneath. It was as though the ceiling of Mosima was melting away.
The lava consumed the Wasted Marshes south of the elven army camp, opening up the city to the sky for the first time.
Yeeran ran backwards to the edge of the old neutral zone, lest she be consumed too. When the liquid stone was half a league away, a cloud swirled in the sky above, and with a clap of thunder it began to hail.
The ice struck the fire, hissing and turning into steam. A hurricane hurtled across the landscape, aiding in cooling the lava. Little by little the molten rock turned black and was still. The winds died down and the clouds cleared, revealing the blue sky.
Only when Yeeran could no longer feel the heat of it did she trust herself to step onto this new land.
Her first footfall was tentative, as though the earth might swallow her up. But when she felt the firmness of rock beneath her she began to run.
The fray was embedded deep within this new field of rock. And it shone like a gemstone in a crown. Its brightness sparked stars in her eyesight as she sprinted towards the valley that now cradled Mosima.
But it wasn’t the Mosima she had once known.
She saw the Tree of Souls first, its trunk split into two halves on either side of the palace. The wreckage spread like a web from its base, its roots leaving a path of destruction through the city.
Homes had crumbled to dust, roads torn apart, fields–what was left of them–had been churned up so that no crop remained.
But as she watched she saw a lone figure moving through the streets. Bricks began to snap back into position as if they were bones being set, crevices were stitched back together. And every step this person took left a footprint of plants: wildflowers, apple trees, ferns, mosses.
‘Afa,’ Yeeran breathed.
A shadow dashed up the valley’s walls, followed by two more.
‘Pila!’ Yeeran’s relief was immeasurable. She sobbed as the obeah lunged towards her and nestled her head into Yeeran’s neck. Her horns dug into Yeeran’s scalp, but she didn’t notice. Pain was nothing in the face of such love.
‘Yeeran.’ Furi’s voice was like a hot coal striking her skin and Yeeran untangled herself from Pila and went to her.
The queen slipped from Amnan’s back. Her face was streaked with dirt, but she looked hale.
‘Are you hurt?’ Yeeran asked.
‘No, but—’
Yeeran embraced her, feeling the firmness of her body against her chest. ‘You’re alive.’ And she saw over Furi’s shoulder that Lettle and Rayan had also crested the valley. ‘You’re all alive,’ she breathed, with relief. ‘Ajax?’
Rayan’s look was enough to blunt Yeeran’s joy. She reached a hand out for Pila to nuzzle.
‘Why didn’t you answer me, Pila?’
The obeah whined.
Furi swallowed, her expression grave. ‘That’s what I was going to say, Yeeran. The binding to the obeah–it’s gone.’
‘Tell me,’ Yeeran said.
It was Lettle who answered. ‘Afa tricked me, there is no spell to bring back the humans.’ She told the tale haltingly, her throat tight with sorrow. Every now and again Lettle would look down at the figure below–Afa and Alder combined–and watch him bring Mosima back to life.
‘So, this is it? The obeah remain obeah, but we have lost our connection to them?’ Yeeran’s hand tightened in Pila’s fur.
This cannot be how it ends.
‘It is,’ Furi whispered. She grieved her bond to Amnan too.
The wind picked up unnaturally for a few seconds, and when Yeeran blinked again, Afa was there.
‘Mosima has been made safe again,’ he said. ‘I healed everything and everyone that I could. But I’m afraid some went to the beyond before I could reach them.’
Yeeran turned to him. In that moment she didn’t care that he was an ancient being who could crush her. She pulled forward her drum and fired.
He took the drumfire calmly, even as red welts blossomed on his skin and seeped blood. He could feel the pain, she knew he could, because every now and again he would wince. But he did nothing to stop her, so she didn’t stop.
‘Bring back her voice,’ Yeeran screamed. ‘Bring Pila back!’
Lettle stepped in front of Yeeran’s drumfire. ‘Stop! This is helping no one.’ There was a second where Yeeran very nearly shot her sister and the realisation horrified her. She dropped to her knees on the hard ground.
‘You can do this,’ Yeeran pointed to the valley. ‘But you can’t bring her back?’
Afa wiped at the blood from a wound on his cheek and said, ‘I can.’
Two words that would change the world.
Lettle rounded on him. ‘Is this a trick?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I have always known how. You see, I cannot create something from nothing. But I am not nothing.’
It was Golan who understood first. He began to sob. ‘No, you can’t do this.’
Afa smiled and went to him. He ran his hand along his jaw, leaving blood. ‘I can, and I must. This was my mistake to right. I must unravel all of me. But you will be the hardest knot to untie.’
He kissed Golan long and slow, then whispered gently in his ear. Yeeran couldn’t hear what he said, but when he let Golan go, the fae was grief-stricken.
‘Lettle, I didn’t really believe life was the rose and thorn. I said it in order to comfort you. But in becoming who I am, I have understood the sentiment. Live as you love, fiercely, deeply.’
Lettle hesitated, her face a clear war of emotions, but as Afa turned away, she ran into his arms to embrace him. He pressed something small into her hands as they separated. ‘Add it to your necklace,’ he said with a grin that was all Alder.
‘Furi, Rayan, I have rebuilt your home. It is a small token of all your people have endured. Take care of it well.’
The king and queen nodded, both wary.
‘And now, to my people. Come, and let me weave my final spell.’
He kneeled on the ground that had once been the Wasted Marshes.
Yeeran thought it was thundering again, but then she saw them. All the obeah left in the world, running to their maker.
Then Afa began to speak. The words were impossible to capture; they sounded as deep and beautiful as a whale song. As light and soft as a bird’s morning call, and as sorrowful as a wolf’s howl.
Here was the earth coming undone.
The wind picked up once more, this time carrying with it the scent of the mountains, of conifers, and the ancient memories they stored.
And slowly, bit by bit, the man who was once Afa and Alder began to come apart. His edges began to blur, then his skin started to shed. Faster and faster the wind blew, picking up all the pieces of him.
The last to disappear was his smile.
Then in a flash the world turned white, and when Yeeran blinked again all traces of him and the obeah were gone.
In their place stood humans.
A woman with dark hair and silver eyes reached for Yeeran’s face. She was of a height with her, though her body was generous in areas that Yeeran’s was not.
‘Pila?’ Yeeran asked uncertainly.
The woman smiled and said, ‘Do you have any strawberries?’