Golden (11 page)

She moved away from him.

“Is it something I said? Or do you not like my new sylph cologne?” he joked. “Scent of forest. Mossy.”

“No,” she said flatly, and turned away, obviously not in the mood for his jokes.

Wes watched her leave him. If only she would tell him what was wrong, because something had to be. It was all wrong, especially if Nat wasn't amused by him anymore. He'd enjoyed making her laugh and he missed it. Either she'd lost her sense of humor, or not only did she no longer find him funny, but she no longer cared for him at all.

The possibility was too awful even to contemplate. Until then, Wes had never realized there was another way to lose your love; not through violence, separation, or death, but indifference.

And if Nat didn't love him anymore, what was there to live for? Wes brooded on this question all the way to the conservatory.

A
LL
SHE
COULD
THIN
K
TO
DO
WAS
RUN
away from Wes, and so she did. It was too hard to be so close to him without spilling everything—her fears, her anxiety, the secret that Nineveh had told her. This way, he would live and leave her before it was too late. Even if the thought was so hurtful it made her ill, she knew she was doing the right thing.

I will not be the cause of your death,
she thought, as she ran deep into the stony depths of the city.
I will not destroy you with my dark fate.

She would protect him, as she had tried to protect Vallonis. She would keep him safe from harm. Safe from her.

No matter that every time he looked at her, confusion and pain in his brown eyes, she wanted to kiss it away. She would be strong, for him.

She heard his footsteps behind her, but he did not call her name. Already it was working, she thought, for as she withdrew he pulled away. Just like the fraying of the bond of her drakon.

Nat tried to concentrate on finding her way to the conservatory. The path was littered with broken marble statues, except unlike the statues back in New Vegas, these had no bases, no plinths underneath. Like the city, the statues must have floated in the air. She imagined elegant arrangements of marble sculptures hanging like clouds in the galleries. It must have been gorgeous, but now they were all smashed. Every bit of marble was chipped. Some were missing hands or feet or both. A marble head idled in a corner, bodiless.

She hurried through a corridor of glass, trying not to slip on the smooth surface.

“Are you sure this is the way?” Wes called, the hard surface of the tunnel shattering his voice into a dozen echoes. The rounded surface of the glass bent the light, making strange reflections, distorting their reflections, twisting them into odd shapes.

“Yes,” she said tersely, her voice ringing in the corridor. She had memorized the map. This was the way, she was sure of it. She led them down into the lower levels, into the dark corridors that led into the heart of the conservatory. She tried not to be distracted by the broken pieces of art all around her or by the boy who was hurrying to catch up to her.

“Slow down,” said Wes. “I don't want to crash through the glass.” His voice sounded as if he were very far away now, but she didn't turn.

“Nat, seriously, let up! Are you trying to lose me?”

Yes, but not in the way you think.
But she stopped. “I'm here. Hurry!” She heard his footsteps coming closer and she raised her voice. “I don't know if you care, but this is our only chance at saving this snow globe. So excuse me if I don't slow down. We've got work to do,” she said crossly.

She kept going. When she finally turned around to check where he was, he was right behind her and their bodies collided in the darkness. She reached out for him instinctively, and when she fell he was there to catch her.

When he looked down at her, his face was an angry red. “I care. All I do is care. You're the one who—”

“Who what?”

“Never mind.”

“Who cares more for this world than your feelings? Is that what you wanted to say to me? Because you're right,” she snapped.

His face was burning, a bright scarlet.

Kill every ounce of his love,
she told herself.
Do it. Let him turn away, let him forget you; it will save his life if he leaves you. Push him away.

“That's not what I wanted to say,” he said hoarsely. “I know what you have to do, and I'm here to help you do it. You can't get rid of me that easily, although it seems as if you want nothing more, and I don't understand why.”

He locked his eyes on hers. He wasn't angry, she realized. Just sad, and he was still holding her although she'd already found her footing. Neither of them had noticed as it felt so natural.

They stared at each other for what felt like an infinite moment in time, and when he pulled her closer to him, she did not push him away. He was right, he smelled like their sylph hosts, like moss and sunshine, but underneath, he was still Wes, with his boyish, earthy smell that she loved.

“Come on, Nat, what is it?” he whispered. “You can tell me.” His hands rubbed her back, tangled in her hair.

He bent down, and his face was so close to hers that all she had to do was lift her lips to his and everything would be like it had been.

I want you more than anything. I can't do this alone,
she wanted to tell him. She would explain and he would assure her that everything would be all right.

Except he was wrong. Nothing was all right.

And yet she wanted to kiss him more than anything in the world, maybe more than she wanted to
fix
the world, and maybe that was why they were all doomed.

She fluttered her eyelids, unwilling to pull away but knowing she had to. She felt his lashes on her cheek, felt his lips part open.

But instead of kissing him she opened her eyes, alarmed at a sudden insight. Why was his face red if he wasn't angry?

Wes opened his eyes, too, disappointed. “What?”

“The corridor . . . it's lit up . . . I didn't notice . . . everything is red.” She pushed his hands away, thankful she had found the strength to do so.

He looked around, alert, a soldier once more. “Yeah.”

“There's a light somewhere. It's coming from there,” she said. “Come on.”

Together they ran through the corridors of glass, until they found the source of the light.

The chamber was huge, bigger than any room she'd ever seen. It was as wide as one of the casino floors back in New Vegas, as tall as a skyscraper, taller even perhaps. They entered at the tower's midpoint. One of the glass-walled corridors led them to a suspended walkway, and that walkway led to a suspended platform in the center of the conservatory.

High above, a glass ceiling revealed blue skies. Though shattered in spots, the glass was mostly intact. It was rosy in color, but there were shades of yellow and magenta mixed into the crystal. It was magical.

Nat felt awkward and out of place, and maybe she was. She had not earned the right to enter Apis; she failed the test.
I'm just a thief, a burglar come to pilfer the last of the city's magic.

In the far corner of the room was a door whose handle was a golden drakon claw identical to the one she wore as a charm around her neck. Faix's mark.

“I'm going to open it,” she said, her hand on the claw handle. “Last chance. Maybe you should get out of here. I can take care of it myself.”

But Wes would have none of it. “I told you, I'm not going anywhere. Stop wasting time,” he said, looking up at the dome. The sound of cracking glass rattled the chamber.

The glass shook, and if it fell they would be hit by a thousand tiny needles. There was enough glass in the ceiling to bury the two of them if it broke while they stood underneath it.

She put a hand on the handle, and as she did, the claw clamped it in its grip, digging its sharp edges into the palm of her hand, startling her. She tried to release her hold, but the claw held her fast, hard enough to draw blood.

She kept her hold on the handle and turned. “Here goes nothing,” she said, as the door opened.

There was a flash of red as the world exploded into flames. She didn't even have time to call for Wes before she slipped through the doorway.

She was no longer holding the door handle, no longer standing at the doorway; she was flying through the heat and flame, the fire surging all around, lost in the storm of the inferno.

• • •

When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the vast glass-enclosed conservatory of Apis.

The air smelled different; it tasted different. She was in a dark forest, and the silence was complete and eerie. There were no creatures rustling in the trees, no wind rustling leaves, nothing but the echo of her footsteps. When she looked up, there were stars in the sky, but they were not the stars she knew in the skies of Vallonis. These didn't follow the same patterns. They were not her stars. This was an alien place, another world. Another universe. Another place and time. The ruins of Atlantis and Avalon.

And she was alone. “Wes?” she called, frightened. Where was he? Had she lost him? Was he back in the conservatory? Or trapped in the red haze? Her heart thumped in fear. “Wes! Wes, where are you?”

In reply, a thunderous roar shook the forest floor.

Nat froze. She knew that sound.

It was the battle cry of a drakon and it was headed her way.

B
EFORE
HE
COULD
FIND
N
AT
, W
ES
watched a pillar of flame descend from the sky, arcing like a bolt of fury, filling the air with smoke, blinding him with light. The flames cut a path through the trees, racing toward him as they consumed everything in their path. The heat was so intense his face felt as if it were already burning. Red and orange sparks danced around him, and wisps of flame lapped at his shirt and pants, threatening to stick. It was too late to run, the only option was to fight, and so Wes pushed back against the drakonfire with his own power, managing to deflect enough of it to avoid being burned by the initial strike.

Wes dove for the cover of tall trees, hoping to lose the drakon. There was nothing else he could do. He couldn't fight the creature with a blade or a gun, and his magic was tapped out for now.

Above him, the creature's wings made a terrible sound. Torrents of hot air whistled through the trees. Flame spiraled in all directions. He heard an intake of air followed by the sound of a great exhalation as the drakon lit the forest with its flame once more. The fire spread from tree to tree, igniting leaves and branches, sending sparks flying and trees crashing to the ground. The successive bursts lit up the night and the forest floor came alive with flame. A great yellow wave of fire rolled up to a great height and crashed around him.

Nowhere was safe. He had to run.

Wes stumbled over fallen branches and logs. He leapt over jagged rocks, wondering whether Nat was here somewhere, lost amid the flames. He looked for her, but the forest was aflame and she was nowhere to be seen. He cursed himself for letting her fall through the doorway alone.

He ran deeper and deeper into the dark woods, hoping for a reprieve, a moment to catch sight of Nat, but the drakon would not rest. It was crisscrossing the forest, setting everything on fire. The flames drew nearer, and there seemed to be no escape. Wes readied himself for the final blow. The fire approached. He tried to push back against it again, to control it as he had done a moment ago, but nothing happened. In a moment, the drakon would light him up like tinder. He'd be nothing but toast. Burnt toast.

He waited for the death stroke, for the drakon to breathe fire down on him. A moment passed. Nothing. He heard only the beating of his heart, and in the distance the sound of the drakon's wings.

It was fading.
Did the drakon spare me?
No. Wes knew better. The creature could have killed him easily, but someone had prevented its strike.

Someone had caught its attention.

“Nat!” he cried.

In the distance, he saw a figure darting between the trees, and went after it. “Nat!” he called again, certain that the drakon was nearly upon her. “Wait!”

He readied his weapon as he ran through the dark forest, following the blaze, the sparkle of lights from the distance that could only be fire from drakonflame. The trees were twisted and ancient, long dead, the bark fossilized into stone. There was no wind, but he felt a chill. The forest was dark, the flames were behind him, and everything was rendered in shades of black and gray, like a charcoal drawing.

There was nothing living in this world, and Wes knew this was the future of their own if Nat was unable to recast the spell.

Another fiery blast came from the north side of the dead forest. She was alone out there. He should have stood his ground and not let his pride get in the way when they were quarreling earlier. He was paying for it now.

“Nat!” he called. “Where are you? Can you hear me?”

Fire lit the sky, washing out the stars and blinding him briefly.

The drakon was close, and he hoped that meant Nat would be as well.

A scream broke the smoky silence—
Nat?
He ran faster, stumbling over roots and rocks.

The forest was darker now, and he couldn't see in front of himself. He was lost, alone in a strange, dead world. There were no flickering lights on the horizon.

Where were they?

He saw neither Nat nor the drakon, but when a shadow moved, he saw something else: a hooded figure, not ten steps ahead of him, holding a gleaming blade.

Wes took a step back, careful not to make any noise, his military training allowing him to retreat as silently as if he had never been there.

There was someone else in the forest with them. Someone dangerous. He had to find Nat.