Golden (7 page)

W
ITHOUT
ANOTHER
LOOK
B
ACK
, W
ES
tumbled through the portal and onto the streets of New Kandy. A freezing wind blew, and he shivered at the cold and the snow that was falling around him. He shuddered when a drone streaked through the sky above. All around him flames crackled and engines roared. He heard soldiers shouting, coming closer. A shot rang out. Someone must have seen him jump back through the portal. He saw the soldiers coming toward him, so he fled the area around the portal, hurrying to conceal himself in the haze of smoke and dust that covered the city.

From behind a snow-covered mound of debris, he saw men rushing toward the portal, gathering in lines, readying themselves for the invasion. Where was Nineveh? How could he find her in this chaos?

“Nineveh!” he yelled, his voice hoarse as he tried to make himself heard above the sound of gunfire and explosions. “Nineveh! Where are you? Vallonis needs you!”

Thinking of the war that had come to the Blue made him ill. He had done that. He had broken the portal, had torn a rent in the fabric of space and time, had let in the dark. No matter what Nat said, this was his mess and now he had to fix it. Fast. Before everything was destroyed.

He'd only just learned of his power and how to use it. When he broke one of Nineveh's spells, he hadn't known that it would affect all of them. He hadn't known that tearing down the spell that kept Nat from entering the doorway would also disrupt the spell that kept the portal open. How could he know? All of this was new to him. He had no teacher, no peers. For all he knew he was the only person in the world who had these particular powers and he barely understood them. He was dangerous and desperate, and he'd only wanted to save Nat.
I've made a mess of things, but now I'm going to fix it.

Peering over the debris toward the portal, he saw what looked like a crack in the fabric of the worlds, a great and terrible gash.
I have to close it, but I don't think I can do that with magic.
He sensed that only Nineveh could do that, so he strengthened his resolve to find her.

The streets were piled high with snow and ice-covered debris. He circled around the block, ducking through burned-out buildings, avoiding the foot patrols. He ran through the burning streets till he stopped and caught his breath.

This was no way to find her.

This wasn't how she'd found
him
.

The Queen had used their connection to locate him the first time, and Wes realized he should try to do the same. He just had to go back there. To the night of the fire. To the night Nineveh appeared to take away one of the twins and Eliza was stolen.

Wes closed his eyes.

And went back home.

• • •

When they were little, no one believed they were related. It was an odd thing for twins, but features that were pleasing and symmetrical on his face were awkward and elongated on hers. Eliza had been a difficult child; he had few memories of his sister that didn't include her scowling or crying or angry. His parents called her colicky or worried she'd been born with ice disease. But Eliza was completely healthy yet fully wretched at the same time.

At six years old, he knew that there was something wrong with Eliza and that there was something terrible about her. The fires she started, and the way she made you see things that weren't there, feel things that weren't real—she messed with your mind. She was twisted, as if there was something inside her that was eating her up.

It was magic, he realized now. He had it, too, but he'd suppressed it, didn't touch it, never explored that side of himself, that part of his nature. It was too foreign and too frightening to contemplate.

For those who were marked by magic were marked for death. Inside and out. If they weren't taken away by the RSA, they became madmen who rotted in the streets. He realized that the effort to deny what was inside him had led to his temporary blindness, the tremors in his hands. But since using his power, his ailments were gone, and he was fully inhabiting his body in a way he hadn't before.

The power within him made his heart beat a little faster, made his senses a bit sharper. He felt strangely fulfilled. He'd never had much of a career after leaving the service. He was just a runner, a guy who took odd jobs just to get by. He raced cars and smuggled people and goods. It was nothing to be proud of, not a living. He'd done whatever he needed to do to earn enough heat credits to keep warm, but he wasn't that guy anymore. All that felt like a hundred years ago, a different life—a different person.

No more. He knew who he was, the power he had. And maybe that power scared him a bit. He'd taken on the Queen and won—how much more could he do? And what damage could he cause if he accidently misused that power? He needed to be more careful, but how could he? Everywhere he went there were soldiers and magic folk, and all of them had it out for him. Wes was starting lose track of how many times he'd nearly lost his life and how many people had been taken from him.

Eliza.
All of this started the night Eliza was taken. The road that led here, started years ago in a bedroom with his sister.

When Nineveh appeared that night, Wes had let Eliza step forward and had done nothing while the Queen took her away.

I was mistaken,
Nineveh had told him earlier.

But what if the mistake was his?

What if he had never let Nineveh take his sister, his twin? What if he had fought to keep Eliza at home? He was only a boy then, but he should have done something. Maybe he should have taken her place.

Especially since he was the one Nineveh wanted all along. Eliza had mentioned being unable to break the mist around the tower that held the spell. Was that what he was supposed to do?

The Queen had looked deep into his thoughts and had used the connection she had forged that night to find him again ten years later. Wes focused on that night, on Nineveh's voice, and willed himself to her side.

When he found her, the Queen was standing where they had left her, by the alleyway, in front of the portal. The soldiers were rushing past her, diving through the doorway to Vallonis, carrying heavy armaments, rockets, and rifles. The portal shimmered as they dove through its swirling surface. There were soldiers all around her, but none of them noticed the Queen. No one stopped, raised a rifle, or paused to ask who she was, what was she doing there. Had she cloaked herself somehow? Was that how he had missed her before?

He was hiding among the piles of snow, concealing himself from the soldiers, wondering how he could approach the Queen, when she spoke to him in his thoughts:
The portal is open to all. You broke the seal,
she said.
It is done. The end has come to Vallonis.
She left the portal and walked to where he was crouched, a cloak of light shimmering around her, concealing her from everyone except Wes.

“But you can close it,” he said, desperately hoping he was right—that his conflict with the Queen hadn't doomed all of Vallonis. There had to be some way to stop the invasion, and he had to return to Vallonis. He'd left Nat, and who knew what was happening back there. Besides, he couldn't stand here forever, out in the open with snipers all around.

“No.” The Queen shook her head.

“You can't or you won't?” Wes yelled, as the building across from them collapsed upon itself like a sand castle.

The Queen did not reply.

“You have to. Look!” he yelled, motioning to the tear in the sky, the drones and tanks that were making their way through the doorway.

She looked but did not see, her face the same immobile mask it had been since she'd appeared.

Why had she sought him? Why had she reached out to him? He hadn't trusted her from the beginning, and the doubts only grew.

Why had she appeared right then?

Because she knew he could not refuse?

Because she knew he was trapped?

Why open the portal in such a dangerous area—not to save them, surely. Nineveh did not seem to care whether he and his crew lived or died, and it was clear she despised Nat.

So why?

There was something there—something he didn't yet see, but he was beginning to grasp the edges of it, beginning to see the hand hidden in the glove, beginning to realize that all was not what it was. That perhaps he and Nat had been played like puppets in a game.

Nineveh gathered her robes.

“No,” he said, putting a hand on her arm. “You're not going anywhere.” There was no getting through to her, but maybe if he brought her to the other side, she could close the portal that way. “You're coming with me,” he said. Nat had tasked him to bring the Queen back to Vallonis, so he was bringing her back, whether she liked it or not.

He had already tried his power against the Queen's and triumphed. He didn't fear her. Holding her close, he rushed her back to the portal, hurrying as best he could, hoping to enter before the soldiers took notice.

He failed.

A gunshot tore through his jacket, nipping skin. Another whizzed past his ear. Someone shouted, “Stop!” but it was too late.

They were at the portal. The swirling vortex of light shimmered as he pushed through it. Already he could feel the warm sun on his hands and face, and the snow on his shoulders had nearly evaporated.

When they were through, the Queen shook off his hold. She stumbled forward, her gaze locked on the horizon. Curious, he followed behind her, wondering what had caught her eye. They were standing on a precipice overlooking the horizon. The towers of a beautiful city shimmered in the distance, shining with the glow of a thousand suns.

“What is that?” Wes asked, blinking his eyes.

“It's Apis,” said Nineveh, her voice as placid as ever. “The eternal city of Vallonis. And it's burning.”

T
HE
FLOATING
CITY
OF
A
PIS
DANC
ED
with flames. The golden spires shimmered with sparks. Smoke twined around spindly towers, silvery arches collapsed. In the sky, winged horses flew, rescuing sylphs stranded in towers and on walls. They saved a few, but everywhere the city was crumbling. People fled atop horses, on wing or hoof; they jumped from towers or ran across the burning earth. Walls buckled, falling one on top of another, pulverizing stones, turning them to dust. The RSA had reached Apis and had done their worst. Blackened craters marred every inch of the city. Thousands cried out in pain. But the drones were merciless with their bombings, firing missiles at turrets and sending walls crumbling.

Nat had found a winged horse of her own and she urged it to fly faster. It was smaller yet more difficult to manage than her drakon, as she was unused to having to express her commands instead of executing them herself.

The sylphs flew next to her, their faces stricken.

Nat blinked back fierce tears.
Apis is burning and I never even saw the inside of it. I never even entered the city I vowed to protect.

She had only come as far as its gates. Before one could enter Apis, one had to pass its test. Every pilgrim was made to cross a void, to take a leap of faith and believe in themselves and their power. She had stood at the cliff's edge and tried to cross the void, but had plummeted to the ground. She had failed. She had not been worthy to enter.

Was that why Nineveh called me a pretender?

Did the Queen know I had failed? Was that it?

“OVER HERE!” a voice called.

She looked down and saw Wes and Nineveh standing on the cliff at the edge of the forest. She bade her horse to land.

“Nat,” said Wes, her name a sigh of relief.

She fell into his embrace, feeling restored in his presence once more. When they pulled away, she turned to Nineveh. “The portal is still open. Why?”

“What is done cannot be undone,” said the Queen. “This world was never meant to be. And so at last it has met its fate.”

In the distance, Apis shot off sparks, its death the collapse of a star, of all the stars. A nightmare made real. The death of a dream, its destruction ugly and sorrowful for the beauty it once held.

Now it was Nat's turn to stare at Nineveh. She exchanged a glance at Wes, who shared her frustration. She wanted to shake the Queen out of this strange paralysis that had taken hold of her. “You can stop it, but you won't. But why? If not for me, why not for them? For your people? For your world?”

Nineveh drew up her white hood over her fair hair. For a moment her features changed, and they could see that the Queen was very, very old. She was ancient and cronelike, and the weight of the years had taken their toll. “This world is over. There is nothing that can be done.”

“That's not true!” Nat cried, thinking of Faix and his dedication to teaching her how to use her power, of the task he had set before her.
Light the fire. Cast the spell. Restore the world.

The Queen shrugged. “This world is dying; it is poisoned beyond repair. Nothing can stop its annihilation. We tried once before, sending the stolen child to the Gray Tower. But she failed. We failed. Then Faix had a dream that the protector of Vallonis had returned to us, but I did not share his belief. Did not encourage his hope.” Her voice was metallic with contempt. “We became estranged because of you.”

Nat was hurt and bewildered. “But why?”

“You know why.”

I have seen the paths in the mirror. You will bring death to us all. Faix was the first and he will not be the last to die because of you. He died alone and away from all that he loved, because of you.

“But Faix was
bringing
me to see you,” said Nat. “I stood at the gates of Apis.”

“As a last, quixotic idea. You see, he hoped to change my mind. But as you discovered, you were not worthy to enter Apis, were you?” said the Queen, the frost in her voice as cold as a bitter winter chill.

Nat remembered standing at the ledge, staring at Apis, fashioning an image that would be made real; she had made something out of nothing, shaped a bridge that would lead her to the other side. She had done it. She knew she had. And yet she had fallen anyway. She stared at the Queen and suddenly she knew why she had failed.

“I didn't fail. I made that bridge. You kept me out,” said Nat. “It was you.”

Nat saw it all now. The Queen did not believe in Faix. The Queen did not believe Vallonis had a protector. The Queen did not lift a finger to defend the city or close the portal. The Queen had stood and watched while Vallonis was destroyed and Apis fell from the sky.

Nineveh was no friend.

She was as much an enemy as the RSA battalions that charged into the peaceful valley.
Nothing can stop its annihilation,
Nineveh had said, and so instead of hampering it, she had hastened it.

Wes had cautioned Nat to wait and warned her that he didn't trust Nineveh. He had wanted to find another way out, but Nat had been so blind. She had begged him to trust her.

She felt faint, unsteady, even as Nineveh continued to regard her with that calm, icy gaze. Wes slung an arm around her shoulder, and only then did Nat realize that she was trembling.

Because it all snapped into place, and she knew Wes knew, too. He must have figured it out, when Nineveh wouldn't close the portal from the other side. And he had brought her here anyway, because Nat had asked him to.

“You did this,” Nat gasped, feeling her knees weaken at the thought and glad that she had Wes to lean on. “You knew Wes would break the seal on the portal if you threatened to keep me out.
You knew what would happen.
You used your power to find him and you
used
him to break it. You used him. You used
us
.” With horror, she realized Nineveh had used Wes's love for her to bring about this chaos. Used it like a weapon.

No, Nineveh hadn't come to New Kandy to save them. She had come to New Kandy because the army was there.

They had only been pawns in a game, played like cards thrown on the felt and discarded on the flop.

“You wanted Vallonis destroyed all along, you
wanted
this to happen. You made it happen!” cried Nat. “But why?”

“What is done cannot be undone. As I've said before, this world was never meant to be,” she repeated forcefully, anger breaking through her cool marble façade. “The promise of Atlantis is over. The dream of Avalon dies here. It dies with me. There is no magic that can stop what has begun now. This is the end. There is no hope for Vallonis, for anyone left in the world, gray or blue.”

“There won't be anyone left thanks to you,” muttered Wes.

Nineveh ignored him and raised her arms. “I was here in the beginning when we cast the spell the first time. And the second. And the third will be the last. There will be none other.” There was a huge flash of brilliant white, and then the Queen disappeared—or more like disintegrated in front of their eyes.

“Good riddance,” said Wes.

Nat stared at the empty space where the Queen had stood. Her anger and guilt made her stomach turn, but Wes's solid weight next to her was a comfort, a bulwark against the pain in her soul.

“It was her, Nat, she did this,” he said. “Not us.”

Yes, but . . .

Our love doomed this world.

No matter what, we played a part in its destruction.

And the thought was a sliver, the beginning of the wedge that would grow between them, one so small she couldn't even see it right at the moment.

But it was there.

More soldiers poured through the portal, more drones, an army of invaders. Their iron-toed boots pounded the forest floor; their machines and rocket fire made the air vibrate. There was no stopping their conquest. They would murder the people and ravish the land, claiming as their own whatever resources they had not destroyed.

She'd lost her drakon, the portal was open, Apis was burning. The Queen had abandoned them. But Wes was right, of course. And it wasn't over. Not while they were still standing. Nat was the protector of Vallonis. Or was she just kidding herself? Was there anything left
to protect
?

A terrible noise—a great crack as if the earth itself were breaking open—interrupted her thoughts. Nat's eyes widened, her mouth agape in fear. Wes held her. Apis was no longer just burning; it was faltering, crashing to the earth. With a sound that dwarfed a thousand thunderclaps, the great capital of Vallonis fell from the heavens, struck the ground, and shattered. A tremor buckled the earth beneath them. The cliffs behind them trembled, trees quivered. The very earth shuddered. The city was destroyed. Apis was gone.

In the hazy distance, men and women poured out from the city's ruins. Like ants fleeing the hive, they hurried in long lines, searching for a means of escape from the burning metropolis. Apis was at their backs, and to the side were mountains, cliffs too steep to traverse. They had only one way to go, and the soldiers were blocking it, shooting down anyone who came their way.

The winged cavalry charged, and as the white-haired general dashed into battle, the drones surrounded him, circling him, showering him with rocket fire. He raised his sword and sent a wave of thunder and lightning their way. There was a scream and a crash as everything fell to the ground.

Yet when the haze dissipated, there was no one left standing, foes and friends alike. There was only a pile of bodies, soldiers and sylphs, the general on top, his eyes lifeless, skin the color of gray concrete.

“Father!” Liannan cried, swooping down from the sky, landing and leaving her winged horse and rushing to his side, Shakes right behind her. The sound of her grief was terrible to hear.

The tanks rumbled their way, and the soldiers began shooting at their friends. Soon, all of Vallonis would fall to their hands.

“Get everyone together,” Nat told Wes. “Tell them to flee, to run as far away from the army as possible. And as far away from me.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked fearfully, worried for her as always.

“I'm going to burn,” Nat said softly. She had to call up the drakonfire somehow. She had to use her power to stop this, it was the only way. “But without my drakon I don't know if I can control it.” She couldn't help but shiver at the thought of the wildfire raging across the plains of the Blue.

“Hold on,” said Wes. “Before you set yourself on fire, I have an idea.” He turned to Shakes. “Get everyone away!” he ordered. “Get as far from us as you can!”

Shakes nodded and, with the help of their remaining crew, began to steer the dazed and the dying to the other side of the field.

Nat looked deep into Wes's kind brown eyes. She had found love there, compassion, and partnership. Whatever she had to do, she would do it with him at her side.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Always,” she promised. She took his hand in hers. “But I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't,” he said staunchly. “I can resist magic, remember? I'm a living antidote. How's that for talent?” He tightened his grip. “Go on. Do what you have to do. I will burn with you.”

Nat closed her eyes, seeking the flame within her soul. Drakonfire. The white flame. She searched for the feeling she had when she was bonded to Mainas. She tried to recall that sensation, the heat of the drakonflame, what it felt like to be united with her mount. It hadn't been that long since their separation, but she struggled to recall that emotion, that heat.

She was the drakon, its fire and its fury.

She tried to block out the sounds of the battle, the cries of the sylphs trampled beneath the soldiers, the exploding rockets. Each moment she delayed, another life passed from this world, another bit of beauty died at the barrel of a gun, crushed underneath the wheels of a tank.

She reached deep into herself, deep into her heart.

Where is it? Where is my strength, where is my fury? I am the drakon's wild heart. I am the drakon's unfettered soul. Where is the fire that is within me?

Why, I gave it to Wes,
she remembered now. She had put her soul into his. She had sent the white spark into his body to restart his heart.

He carried the flame within him, so all she had to do was reach for it and take it back.

She felt his hand in hers and squeezed it tightly.
Come back to me,
she whispered to the drakonfire.

Just like that, when she opened her eyes she saw there was a white flame dancing between their clasped hands. Wes smiled.

Nat waved her hand and the flame grew, trailing her fingers like a white, shimmering streamer. She waved it in a circle and the flames danced around them, the two of them in the center of a glistening circle of fire. She waved her hand in another circle, then another. Her fingers drew flames in the air, she was painting with fire. Again and again the flames circled them growing ever more dense.