Flight Into Darkness (39 page)

“What am I doing here?” he said, utterly bewildered.

The sky lit up with a brilliant burst of fire and Linnaius's little craft slewed from side to side, caught in the power of the blast. He clung on, desperately trying to regain control as he was sent hurtling down toward the ink-black sea. He managed to right the craft, skimming along the tops of the waves, just before another blinding flash of power sent the craft spinning.

“I can't even get close…” As he struggled to keep from crashing into the sea, he realized how pitiful his own powers as a magus were compared to the daemonic might of the Drakhaouls. How presumptuous he had been to think he would be able to help Eugene. There was nothing he could do but wait and watch helplessly, hoping against hope that Karila and little Rostevan had not been sacrificed on the ancient stone altar below the Serpent Gate.

Nilaihah came hurtling toward Gavril like a golden meteor, scattering sparks of fire in his trail.

“Give me Nagar's Eye!” The black night burst into flames of white gold as Nilaihah launched his attack.

“Look out, Nagarian!” yelled Eugene.

Instinctively, Gavril raised his hands to shield his eyes.

As Nilaihah's shaft of fire hit the rubies, the Eye of Nagar flew up into the air at the moment of impact—and shattered in a blinding explosion.

Linnaius caught a brief glimpse of the winged warriors as they clashed again, etched in flame against the night—and then came the conflagration.

Brighter than lightning, the explosion turned the black sky dazzling white. Linnaius felt his heart stop in shock—and then slowly
stutter back to life. Winded, breathless, he felt the craft carried back across the dark waters by the force of the blast. He fought, but in vain; it tossed him helpless into the sea.

“Now!”
Belberith's energy surged through Eugene's body. Green fire shot from his outstretched hand and hit the snarling serpent right in the center of the empty eye socket. The stone head burst into a thousand fragments.

Eugene fired again and again, pouring all his rage into Belberith's final assault.

The Gate fell in on itself, and a dust cloud rose, covering the clearing with pulverized stone.

“It's finished, Nagazdiel!” Eugene cried defiantly. “Yes, I opened the Serpent Gate—but now I've closed it, and it will stay closed forever!”

Linnaius's craft was light but strongly built by the craftsmen of Lake Taigal and as it bobbed up again, he clung on desperately to the side. And as he floated there, half-drowned, he saw an extraordinary sight. A great gateway had appeared on the horizon, trembling with silvered light that spilled in as if from another world. Linnaius blinked the stinging seawater from his eyes. Tall winged figures were moving, passing through the gateway, one by one. The shimmer of light began to dwindle, slowly fading, until only the darkness remained.

“They've gone,” Linnaius whispered over the lapping sound of the waves. “The Drakhaouls have gone at last. And the Serpent Gate has been destroyed. But at what price?” He dragged himself up over the side of the craft and collapsed onto the bottom, his soaked clothes leaking salt water. After a few moments, he forced himself to sit up. The Serpent Gate might have been closed at last—but where was Eugene? And the royal children?

“If he's still alive, he'll be exhausted after such a battle.” Linnaius began to check the craft; it was better to concentrate on the practicalities of the situation than to think the worst. The sail was saturated with salt water but intact. And overhead, the black pall of shadow was beginning to disperse, revealing tiny pinpricks of light: the southern stars.

Maybe there was still hope…

* * * 

Celestine came back to herself, huddled in the darkness. It had been too vivid to be a dream.

“
My father…
” whispered the Faie brokenly. “
I sensed his presence. But now he's gone…
”

“So that was
your
father?” Celestine was still filled with an overwhelming sense of loss and abandonment that she knew was not her own. “Was I seeing your memories, Faie?”

“The Drakhaouls opened the Serpent Gate… but before he could escape, it closed again. It closed forever.
”

CHAPTER 5

Celestine opened her eyes to see a shaft of sunlight shining through the ivied window of the pavilion. She rubbed the sleep from her eyelids, wondering if she were still dreaming. But as she sat up, the stiffness in her limbs told her this was no dream.

“Daylight?”

“The Gateway to the Realm of Shadows has been sealed. The Drakhaouls are finally gone—and your world is safe again.”

Suddenly Celestine's body was racked by painful sobs that arose from a grief that was not her own.

“I saw him. I saw my father!”
wept the Faie.
“But he was so changed that I hardly recognized him. And now he's all alone with no one to comfort him.
”

“Why is he all alone? Tell me what happened, Faie.”

The Faie's sobs slowly subsided.
“I was the child of a forbidden union. My mother was mortal, my father an angel. And for rebelling against the Divine Will, he was stripped of his wings and imprisoned in the Realm of Shadows.”

“Stripped… of his wings?” The image was so brutal and cruel that Celestine could hardly bear to imagine it. “But I thought that angels were creatures of light.”

“They have both a physical and an aethyrial body so that they can move between the worlds with ease.
”

“Yet you were born to a mortal woman?”

“And because of my father's blood, I lived many years beyond the mortal span. And when, at length, my body became too weak

and old to sustain me, this aethyrial form, that you see now, remained …”

“Didn't you lock up yesterday, Nicolai?” The Tea Pavilion staff must have returned. “The door's ajar. Has someone broken in?”

In a panic, Celestine hurried to the back door and let herself out into the chill morning, hiding in the reeds. But the hungry ducks spotted her and set off, paddling toward her across the murky waters of the Lake, filling the air with their strident, greedy quacking. She fled, hurrying over to the gazebo, hoping that no one had noticed her.

In the clear autumn dawn of a new day, she saw her predicament all too clearly.

What a mess I've made of my life. The Drakhaouls are gone. Kaspar Linnaius is free. But I'm a fugitive, with nowhere left to run.

She slid down onto the bench, hugging her arms to herself against the chill.

“Was Linnaius telling me the truth?” she whispered. “Have I been pursuing the wrong man all this time? Was he really my father's mentor and friend? Have I thrown away everything—and all for nothing?”

Don't do this to yourself, Celestine,
Jagu had begged her.
Don't perjure your immortal soul.

Why did her heart ache when she thought of him? He had tried to stop her, and she had refused to listen to him. A bitter yearning swept through her, so strong that her blood seemed to burn.

“I hate you, Jagu de Rustéphan, for always being so insufferably, damnably right!” she cried aloud. “And now I've lost you forever. I can never go back to Francia. I have to make a new life for myself. I have to reinvent myself. I can never be Celestine de Joyeuse again.”

“Take a look at yourself,”
urged the Faie.

“You've changed me?” Celestine slowly raised her head. “But how?”

“Maela,” said Celestine, staring down at her altered reflection. It was disorienting to catch sight of herself in the glassy lake and see a stranger staring back. “I shall become Maela Cassard, after my mother. I always thought it would make a good stage name.” It wasn't the first time she'd had to learn to live with a new name, after all. She scrutinized her new features critically. The blue of her eyes was now the warm brown of amber, framed by darker brows and lashes, and her hair was no longer gold but a glossy chestnut. Even
the tone of her skin had altered from palest porcelain to a more healthy, glowing complexion.

“How have you done this, Faie?” she asked, amazed. “Is it permanent? Can you change me back?”

“Does it displease you? I was remembering how I…
” The Faie's soft voice trailed away.

“How
you
looked?” Celestine was wondering what the Faie meant. “Was that you in my dream, Faie? Did you show me your memories?”

“But that was a long, long time ago…
”

Celestine went back to the gazebo. There was no one about yet, not even a gardener, but she judged it wise to collect her little bag of possessions and move on.

If only I had something else to sell.
She had pawned all her jewelry but one piece to pay for her passage to Mirom. Her fingers closed around the last remaining item, which she had pinned to her dress: the jet mourning brooch given to her by Princess Adèle.

But it's my lucky charm. I can't pawn this, it's too precious.

The sky craft skimmed on above the Azure Ocean toward the western quadrant. The last smudges of darkness leaking from the Realm of Shadows had cleared, leaving the sky a radiant blue once more.

Kaspar Linnaius summoned the calmest, gentlest winds to bear his precious cargo back to Muscobar, and he concentrated his mind on weaving one breeze smoothly with another to steer them home. Beside him sat the Emperor, one arm around his daughter, Karila, his baby son, Rostevan, clasped close in the crook of his other arm. Like her brother, Karila had fallen into an exhausted sleep, her tousled fair head pillowed against her father's broad chest. Linnaius assumed that Eugene was also asleep; his bruised face was pale and his head drooping. But after a while, Linnaius became aware that the Emperor's blue-grey eyes were fixed on him, keen as a wintry sky.

“You came to our rescue again, Kaspar,” he said, his voice slurred with weariness. “How can I ever begin to thank you?”

“These last years that I've spent in your service have been the happiest of my life.” Linnaius busied himself with adjusting the tiller. Never easy with expressing his feelings, this was proving even more difficult to say than he had anticipated. “But I have unfinished business
that I must attend to urgently. I do not know how long it will take me… or indeed if I will ever return.”

A long silence followed. Linnaius glanced up, wondering if Eugene had even heard him. And then a sigh escaped the Emperor's lips. Eugene was smiling at him—a sad, regretful smile. “I've been so fortunate to have you at my side all these years, old friend,” he said. “But I've always known that this day would come, sooner or later. Go and with my blessing. God knows, I'll miss you…” His gaze shifted from Linnaius's face, staring beyond him into the vastness of the sky above and beyond. “And remember, there will always be a place at my court for you if ever you choose to return.”

Linnaius bowed his head in thanks. Eugene's words had moved him more deeply than he cared to admit.

What is the matter with me? Why do I have so little control over my emotions since I returned from the Jade Springs? This is a weakness I can ill afford, when there is so much to be done.

The craft dipped suddenly and he forced himself to concentrate on the weaving of the soft, southern breezes with the fresh, lively winds that had begun to blow from the east as they flew on toward Muscobar. He was struggling to maintain control. Since boyhood he had been able to summon the translucent dragons of the air, the fierce and wayward
wouivres,
and bend them to his will. Now they were resisting him. It was taking all his energy to keep the craft aloft.

“Your powers—and mine—have begun to diminish.”
Anagini's warning thrummed repetitively on, like a melody that would not leave his brain.

I'll become a street singer.
Celestine had been walking the pavements of Mirom all day and she was exhausted.
It's that or sell my body. And who would pay good money for such a sweaty, unwashed piece of flesh as I?

There were prostitutes in plenty in Mirom; Celestine could not help but notice the ragged girls with hollow cheeks and dead eyes haunting the taverns by the quays, rouged and painted like dolls. Here, in the more prosperous quarters of the city, there were courtesans, immaculately dressed, flaunting their charms more discreetly as they strolled in the vaulted shopping arcades.

Do I have the courage to do what they do? Could I endure the intimate caresses of a stranger? The touch of a man's hands on my

body?
She shuddered. She had heard that men who paid for sexual favors often used their women badly, beating and tying them up, forcing them to perform obscene acts …

Celestine stared down at herself; she looked like a vagrant. Her only dress was stained and filthy from tramping the streets of the city, the hem caked with mud, and her shoes were scuffed and worn.

“If only you could be like the faie in the fairy tales and wave a magic wand to change my rags into elegant clothes,” she said silently to the Faie. “And I could really do with a bath.” The Muscobites favored communal bathing and Mirom had many luxurious public baths for men and women. “But cleanliness comes at a price here, and I don't have a sou to my name.”