Halcyon The Complete Trilogy (78 page)

“Lorenzo?”

“Hm?”

“I saw him leave. The Italian. I saw him leave through the village about an hour before you arrived. He mounted a horse and rode away with a large sack over his shoulder,” Ariel said. “And I knew the skyfire stone was in the sack. I could feel it.”

He nodded. “I wish you could have seen it. A lump of gold as big as my head on a rock table glowing red from the heat. A whole mountain side bare of snow and hot to the touch, but the stone was cool as we wrapped the harness around it.”

“No, Lorenzo. I mean that I actually felt the stone. I could feel it pulling me toward it just as I can feel the pull of your medallion and those other faraway cities.”

Lorenzo touched the triquetra under his shirt. “You mean you have the same connection to the stone as to this? But I thought the reason you could sense the medallion was because you wore it in life. You never touched the stone in life, did you?”

“Of course not. I never dreamed it was a mere half day’s walk from a little town like this, either. How were you so certain this was the right mountain?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t completely sure. I had a list of six mountains, but this was by far the best fit for all the evidence we collected. We got lucky.” He winced at his choice of words.

There wasn’t anything lucky about today
.

The nun refolded her insubstantial hands. “Lorenzo, I can still feel the stone now. I can feel it drawing me south. It almost feels as though I could release this aether form right now and be whisked across the countryside to the stone this very minute.”

Lorenzo pulled out his medallion and stared at the metal disc. “And it’s the same feeling you get from this thing?”

“Oh yes, only stronger. Much stronger.” Ariel reached out her pale hand to the dim golden disc in his hand. As her finger passed through the metal, the drifting aether of her form suddenly swirled down violently into the triquetra. The woman cried out and snatched her hand away.

Lorenzo stared as the white vapors slowly resolved back into the nun’s hand, and then he stared down at the medallion. “It feels…warmer. What just happened?”

“It felt like I was being drawn into it.” Ariel shifted away down the bed. “It felt like a riptide of aether, and my very soul was draining down with it.”

He held it out to her. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

She frowned but reached out again with a single finger. As it came closer to the dark gold, the aether slid forward off her in a silvery cascade. “It feels warm. I don’t understand, I haven’t felt warm since I died, Lorenzo. I’m afraid.”

“All right, that’s enough.” He pulled the medallion back and Ariel fell off the bed toward him, her entire hand embedded in the gold. “What’s happening? Back away, sister.”

“I’m trying!”

They both stood up and Lorenzo retreated to the far wall, but the nun glided after him, her arm sunken into the medallion up to the shoulder.

“Lorenzo, please, make it stop. I can’t focus, I can’t think.”

The hidalgo stared around the room, but there was nothing at hand except the bedding. “What can I do? Tell me what to do!” He pulled back again but the nun was swept along with him. The medallion felt warm in the palm of his hand. He threw the triquetra across the room.

The medallion clanged against the wall and thumped on the floor.

Lorenzo blinked. Ariel was gone.

“Sister?”

He slowly crossed the room, staring at the shadows, listening.

“Sister?”

Oh God, what have I done?

He found the medallion in the corner and picked it up. The gold warmed his skin and he wrapped his hand around it, pressing the triquetra into his palm. “Ariel?”

“Lorenzo?”

“Sister?” Lorenzo looked around the empty room. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see anything. It’s dark. And it’s warm.”

Lorenzo opened his hand to look at the medallion.

“It’s lighter now. I think I can see your face, Lorenzo, but I can’t seem to move. I can’t feel my hands. I can’t even turn my eyes. Can you see me?”

He nodded at the golden disc in his hand. “I think I do. I think you’re inside the medallion.”

“Inside…?”

Lorenzo sat on the bed again. “I’ve never heard of anything like this before.”

“Neither have I.” She paused. “It feels like nothing I’ve ever known. It’s so still and warm. I don’t feel like myself. I don’t feel like anything. I feel adrift and anchored at the same time.”

“I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”

What have I done? Nothing can harm a ghost, nothing!

“I don’t know, Lorenzo.” Ariel fell silent for a long moment. “Well, whatever this is, I suppose it’s not the end of the world. I spent the first twenty years of my death resting in my grave, contemplating my life. It can’t hurt to spend a little time resting here. Wherever here is. I’m sure we’ll figure it out in time. Just try not to lose the medallion, Lorenzo.”

“Of course not, never.”

“And don’t wear it in bed with Qhora.”

He blushed. “All right.” He turned the golden disc over and over in his hand. The discolored edge gleamed darkly at him.
The gold. The dark gold, the red gold. Just like the skyfire stone. The warmth. The heat
. “Oh my God. It’s the metal. The metal in the stone. There must be some of it here where the triquetra was mended. It drinks up aether. It’s some sort of lode stone, like an aether magnet!”

“Not just aether, but souls as well,” Ariel’s voice said. “This is a natural substance that can imprison a person’s immortal soul. The divine fire of the human soul trapped in a bit of gold. Maybe this substance really is a shard of heaven, as you said.”

“Souls. Divine fire. The heat.” Lorenzo felt his heart pounding in his chest.
But if Ariel’s soul makes this medallion warm
… “How many souls are there in the skyfire stone? How many souls would it take to make it so hot that it can make a rock glow red and keep the snow from touching the ground for a hundred yards in every direction?”

“I don’t know. Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?”

He nodded, his hands trembling. “All those years on the mountain side, the stone must have been drawing in the souls of the miners and their families, all the ghosts that might have been wandering the north. Whole generations, whole towns.”

“Dear God, that’s why I’ve never met a ghost from this region,” Ariel said. “Because there aren’t any. Sooner or later, they all stumbled across the stone high on the mountain, and they touched it. And now they’re all trapped inside the stone.”

Lorenzo looked up sharply at the window. “The stone. Salvator has the stone. He’s taking it and all those poor souls to make a weapon, to kill people.”

“And the more people he kills, the more souls could be drawn into the stone, making it even more powerful and more deadly.”

The hidalgo looked at his pillow with infinite longing. His body ached and every blink of his eyes was a battle to force them open again. “Alonso’s hurt. He needs to rest. And I can’t put Taziri in any more danger. I’ll have to go alone. And I’ll have to go now.”

“You need to sleep. You’re no good to anyone exhausted.”

“Salvator already has a long head start. I can’t waste the night sleeping.” Lorenzo stood up and slipped the medallion over his head, letting it rest on his chest over his coat. “Can you still feel the skyfire stone? Do you know which direction it is?”

“Yes. South and east.”

Out in the dining room, he announced his intention to leave immediately and he told Alonso to escort Taziri back to Zaragoza as soon as he felt strong enough to ride. “You won’t have to worry about Fabris. He isn’t heading that way. Find Qhora and the other boys, and when you’re ready, go back to the Diaz estate in Madrid and wait for me there. I’m sure it won’t be long before it’s safe for foreigners to travel openly again and you’ll be able to return to Marrakesh.”

Alonso nodded. “Yes, sir. Will do.”

Taziri frowned into her empty tea cup. “Don Lorenzo, my whole reason for being here with you was to protect my passengers. But I’ve lost them all. Nicola, Dante, and Shahera. But I have another oath to keep, to protect my country. I need to go with you to make sure that stone never reaches its destination. I can’t let it be used against my people, or yours, or anyone else’s.”

“All right.” Lorenzo sighed.
I can’t stand between her and her duty. I have to respect that. As much as I want her to stay far away from Fabris and the stone. God, please don’t let me lose her too.
“Alonso, you’ll be all right on your own?”

“Absolutely. Mirari invited me to lunch tomorrow with her sister Nina.” The young diestro winked. “Assuming these crazy mountain people don’t kill me, I’ll be just fine.”

Lorenzo rested his gloved hand on the door.
It’s going to be pitch black out there, and freezing, and snowing. Why did this all have to happen in the dead of winter?
“We need to go now, if you’re sure you want to come with me.”

“I’m sure.” Taziri stood up and crossed the room. Her eyes were half lidded and lined, her lips thin, her shoulders slumped. “Let’s go save the world.”

The hidalgo managed a brief smile. “Let’s.”

Day Nine

Chapter 25. Qhora

Wayra strutted up to the gate in the tall chain fence, the long blue feathers atop her head fluttering in the breeze. Beyond the fence stood a few long, low buildings near the edge of the bay, and beyond them Qhora could see the Middle Sea rolling darkly in the late day sun. To her left, the city of Valencia huddled close to the shore as though clinging to the feeble warmth of the sea.

The two guards at the gate looked up at the huge bird and glanced at each other. If she hadn’t been so tired from two days in the saddle, Qhora might have enjoyed their nervousness. “Good afternoon. I’m here to see Lord Admiral Magellan.”

The left guard said, “I’m sorry, miss, but the admiral left aboard the
Arkangel
several days ago. I can’t say when he’ll return.”

His answer wasn’t entirely surprising. As she rode up the coastal lane, she hadn’t seen anything in the bay matching Taziri’s description of the warship that shot down her aircraft. “Very well, then I need to speak to your commander. Immediately.”

“This is a military facility, miss. No civilians permitted without authorization. But I can deliver a message to Captain Ortiz, if you like.”

“I am Dona Qhora Quesada, wife of Don Lorenzo Quesada de Gadir, and I am here on behalf of Commander Rui Faleiro,” she said. “And I need to speak to your Captain Ortiz, in person, immediately.”

The names worked. The guard escorted her through the gate and across the yard to a small brick office flanked by a pair of small browning pine trees. Captain Ortiz greeted her curtly. “We haven’t heard from Faleiro in quite some time. He was due back over a week ago, according to my log. I suppose he ran into some weather on the road somewhere.”

“Actually, he was murdered on the road somewhere, between here and Madrid I believe.” Qhora wore her most professional bored expression. For two days, she had had nothing to do except to guess when she would stumble upon Valencia and to perfect her questions and answers for when she arrived.

“Murdered? By whom?”

“By an Italian named Salvator Fabris. I believe he was stationed here as well.”

Ortiz frowned. “He was. I thought he’d been discharged. You have evidence against Fabris? A witness?”

“A confession. He told my husband that he’d killed Faleiro.”

The captain sighed. “This is what happens when you let in foreigners. Begging your pardon, Dona, I mean Italians and Mazighs and so on, not New Worlders like yourself. This entire project has been twice as difficult since the admiral started bringing in his special contractors. And now they’re murdering our officers?” He glared as he shuffled the papers around his desk, yanked out a clipboard, and began scribbling notes. “I’m issuing a warrant for Fabris’s arrest. No doubt you and your husband will be summoned to testify against him, but that could be months away. No need to worry about it now.” Ortiz paused, then resumed writing on a fresh page. “And I’m shutting down the science experiment in the warehouse. No more nonsense on my watch until we get this foreigner business under control.”

Qhora smiled her best high-society smirk of flirtatious conspiracy. “A science experiment? Here? How bizarre! Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, it’s this machine they brought in, apparently on Fabris’s orders. Something that he found out on the road last week.”

“What sort of machine? Like a locomotive? I visited Marrakesh once and saw two locomotives crash straight into each other. Can you imagine?” Qhora loathed the act right down to the little giggle and smile at the end of her questions, but she had no other leverage with this man and couldn’t risk being turned away empty-handed.

Ortiz shook his head. “No, ma’am, I cannot. But this machine is no locomotive. It looks like a damned bird. Lord knows why those Mazighs keep building these flying contraptions. If God wanted us up in the clouds, that’s where he would have put us in the first place.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Qhora rested her gloved hand on her chest, just below her little golden triquetra.

Ortiz offered her a polite smile and nod. “Well, Dona Qhora, I can’t thank you enough for coming all this way to report this Fabris matter to me. I promise you, it will be dealt with swiftly.”

“Thank you so much, captain.” She stood to leave. Her hand strayed to her empty purse and she thought of her empty saddlebags. “Oh, look at the time. It’s already so late in the day. Can you recommend a hotel where I might spend the night?”

Ortiz stood up. “Actually, my wife and I would be honored if you would stay the night with us, Dona. It’s the least I can do in return for your services today.”

Qhora smiled.
Such predictable nobility. I almost regret manipulating him like this, but a twinge of regret is better than another night out in the cold
. “Why thank you, captain, I believe I will accept your most generous offer.”