Half Discovered Wings (59 page)

He heard
laughter like the sound of stars being torn apart.

Beside him,
Rowan stirred.

~

She opened her
eyes.

Fuzzy
light.

Scorching
heat.

Cold stone
beneath her, against her back.

A sound like a
billion galaxies being crushed: dark laughter.

She blinked.
She saw white like summer clouds, and then the dappled hue of fire
interspersed with it. In the centre hovered a black, winged shape.
It was laughing at her.

She felt the
warm touch of Gabel’s limp shoulder, leaning against hers. She
reached across and felt his face, and saw nothing but murky
colours. Her fingertips felt his leathery skin, his sandpaper jaw.
She touched his lips, hard like granite, cracked. She felt
moisture, sticky and thick, coming from his scalp. Blood. She could
smell the metallic scent of it. His flesh was rigid and creased and
hard. His skin was burnt to a crisp. Her hand fell to his chest,
and it was naked and sweaty and as hard as his face, but it was
rising and falling slowly. He was breathing.

She saw a
spark out of the corner of her eye. She saw a coil of white mist,
then the glare of something metallic: a figure in silvery armour,
grey clothing. She saw a face, cheek split vertically with a dark
line. It was Caeles’ scar. She heard words, a cry.

The cry was
like the applause of leaves. The tinkle of crystal. The stroke of
feathers.

The figure was
not Gabel. The hunter was still lying next to her, unconscious. But
the new arrival felt familiar. It was the presence she had felt
lingering over them as they had passed through the city, a
spiritual presence that seemed pure and at peace – no, perhaps not
fully at peace. But then, that was why it was here, wasn’t it? To
settle things with the being that had once been Tan Cleric?

With this cry,
the misty figure threw an arrow of white, a lance, and it pierced
the black shape within the pillar of light. The Daemon’s innards
became food for the fire. It poured into it, it filled it. Its body
cracked like torn earth, and it evaporated. Rowan felt from the
lightness of the air inside the cavern that Erebis was dead – or at
least its vessel, Cleric, had been destroyed for good.

She felt tears
in her eyes. There was the sound of crushed metal, and then the
slow grind of failing machinery, and the light suddenly ceased. The
silver-white figure had disabled the Hahnium. Rowan was plunged
into darkness.

She felt the
presence of the white figure come closer, and the caress of
feathers. He leaned close to her, and she felt cool breath on her
eyes. Lips on her cheek, and a voice, whispering a prayer. Her
sight was still broken and she could only see a vague man-shape and
the glint of reflective metal.

‘
You reminded me of her before,’ the voice said, so very
quietly. ‘I see the differences now. You are your own kind of
beautiful. The man beside you is your guardian. He’ll protect you,
no matter what. And I have left him a message. I’m sorry I can’t do
more for you, Rowan.’

She could say
nothing; she didn’t have the strength. She felt the feathers again,
on her cheek, and then the presence was gone. She would have
reached out if she could, but she just couldn’t find the energy to
do so.

Her vision
began to fade again, but this was not the onset of blindness. She
knew with certainty that she would never see again. Her time had
come.

‘
I’m sorry I can’t do more for you, Rowan,’ the voice said
again, distant now. ‘I would have loved to heal you, to remake you
as a woman. I wish I could do more. But I’ve done all I
can.’

*

EPILOGUE

Many of the creatures that had swarmed around the light had
been burned to cinders when the machine shut down. A blinding flash
tore most of them to shreds, the remains of which began to rain
down upon Shianti like volcanic ash.

The man-like
beasts that had washed over the city were confused and agitated
when the pillar dissipated. They took to the air in a cloud and
vanished. A few stragglers were slaughtered by the citizens of
Hermeticia, who then proceeded to hunt down the rest.

Groups of the
creatures were found in caves in the desert, dried out husks
huddling together. Some were discovered in the rainforests. Most
had fallen victim to the more natural beasts there, food for the
true inhabitants of the planet. Weak and disoriented, they hadn’t
stood a chance. Many were found in various stages of ecdysis,
caught up in their own cast off carapaces, having starved to death.
Any that had been found alive were rounded up and killed in a
continent-wide pogrom, by masses with burning torches, farming
equipment, guns and swords.

The plague
still ravaged the city, though a worker had discovered something
underground in the water-laundering unit, a round fleshy sac,
slowly deteriorating in the sewers. Plant-like spores had been
polluting the water for weeks. The sac was carried carefully up in
an animal-hide bag and burned.

Gabel had been there for the burning of the corpses. The
magus and the others had seen him, Rowan limp on his back,
staggering out from the smoking cave, black-skinned and coughing
spots of blood. They had dropped ropes over the lip of the
excavation site, and both of them were lifted to safety. Gabel
placed Rowan down carefully, and arranged her arms just like he had
when she’d been comatose on the
Tractatus
. Her eyes were
closed.

To their surprise, there was another survivor to be
recovered. A young man surfaced alongside Gabel, struggling to
maintain his grip of the gravelly surface of the cave’s rim. It was
William Teague, still trapped inside the body of Henrique Martínez.
His skin was singed and raw-looking. The theriope flesh into which
he had transformed – and the residual darkness that his soul had
dragged through death and Hell – had been shorn from him
forever.

There had been twelve mounds of bodies in all, each ten or so
feet high. The Shianti priest, whom they had seen whilst riding
through town upon their arrival, had escaped death to pray for them
as the great pyres crackled and spat. The hunter had prayed too,
putting his palms together and his thumbs to his forehead. The
priest had noticed a mark on the back of Gabel’s left hand in the
shape of a star, but decided not to ask about it.

Isaac had been injured during the battle outside the
excavation site. His arms were broken, and his body was
criss-crossed with deep, knife-like cuts. One eye had been taken
from him. The priest nursed him after the burning of the pyres, and
when the travellers came to visit him, three or four days later, he
said he would live.

He aimed to
return to Tan Cleric’s facility in the rainforest. He felt that he
could find his way again without much difficulty. After destroying
it, perhaps he would see his new allies again. Maybe he would make
a pilgrimage to Iilyani, and protect a town in dire need of a
guardian.

~

The others set
off on the return journey. Gabel had acquired a horse-drawn cart
and some beasts to pull it, and sat in the back with Rowan the
entire trip. Every Sunday they would stop and rest, and Gabel would
pray. Rowan could not pray with him, and so he spoke for both of
them.

The magus and
Teague walked side by side, telling each other stories. The two
violinists, Maeia and Taeia, travelled with them in a closed
carriage, and played for everybody when the tents had been pitched
and the fires lit.

After a few
weeks, they arrived at the edge of the Sinh-ha Plains, this time
from the opposite direction. The violinists took the magus aside
for a few quite words.

‘
We cannot go there,’ Maeia said, fingering her brass
pendant.

The magus’s
eyes glinted at them in a kind of nod. He said, ‘Have you heard our
follower?’

‘
He cannot be seen,’ said Maeia, ‘but he’s there. I don’t think
he’ll ever be seen again. But he’s badly wounded. We can smell his
blood.’

‘
He means harm, I think.’

‘
We think so too.
Dina vorris.
We’ll find him,’ said Taeia. Her eyes were silver
in the moonlight.

‘
Farewell, then,’ said the old man.

The girls gave him a hug each. ‘Farewell,
Atropos.’

‘
I expect to see you performing still, when we next meet. I
hope this isn’t another one of your caprices.’

‘
There are a few centuries of enjoyment yet in these
instruments,’ laughed Maeia. ‘Farewell, and well done at
last.’

~

They went the long way around the Sinh-ha Plains, adding
weeks to their journey. When they arrived in Goya, Teague insisted
on returning to the monastery. He wandered the dusty sunlit
corridors and checked every room, but found no-one.

He
made his way to the pool room and lay in the cold mineral waters
for an hour, before walking the tunnel to the Ministrati’s place of
meeting.

He knocked
before entering. ‘Please come,’ said a voice.

He pushed open
the door, and in the centre of the small room sat Sister Latily,
naked with a shaven head. Her eyelids were closed.

‘
Sister,’ he said.

‘
Hello, Brother William.’

‘
Is it just you here?’

‘
Yes. Brother Elkin was taken by the pillar of light. Brother
Lius fell to the plague. The others succumbed to their fatigue, or
were killed in the battle. I am the last one left. I do not dwell
on it. I should give you congratulations.’

‘
I don’t think I deserve them.’

‘
You should take them nonetheless.’ She paused, her
sun-reddened chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. ‘I
see you’ve found yourself again.’

‘
I had help. But yes, I have. The curse has been burned away
completely.’

‘
Are you at peace?’

‘
I am.’

‘
Then you have reached a plateau I am still climbing
toward.’

Teague said
good-bye, and left Sister Latily to her meditations. That image of
her, nude and red-skinned, her scalp burned and peeling, stayed
with him for the rest of his life.

~

They also decided to take a detour around the Great Lake Lual
rather than cross it again. They stopped at a small town named
Milaca Duos, a harbour town, and ate fish and baby crabs, staying
only long enough to fix the cart, which had become damp and twisted
in the moist air from the lake.

They retuned
to São Jantuo, the ancient city that once had stood proudly with
sky-scraping buildings and concrete streets, but remained now only
as a small lakeside town. They wandered through the place, which
seemed to have much less activity this time round, and waited
outside the city hall.

Gabel got down from his horse and talked to one of the
guards. ‘Is the Regent inside? I have some news he would wish to
hear.’

The guard
nodded. ‘Who’s that sitting in your cart? She’s quite
beautiful.’

‘
She’s none of your concern. Leave her.’

‘
I wouldn’t dream of waking her,’ replied the guard. Gabel
didn’t think to correct him.

Gabel entered
the large domed hall and found himself kneeling in front of a young
woman, who told him to rise. ‘Who are you, traveller?’ she
asked.

‘
My name is Joseph Gabel. I travel with my friends back to my
hometown after a long journey west. I had news for a man named
Dysan.’

‘
The Regent Dysan is dead,’ said the woman, lifting her chin.
Her throat glistened with jewellery. ‘He perished eight months ago,
of extreme old age. He was my father.’

‘
I’m sorry to hear of his demise.’

She only
nodded. ‘What news did you have?’

‘
An ancient enemy of his, named Caeles, is dead.’

‘
He would have been pleased to hear that, no doubt. But I am a
different kind of ruler to my father. I harbour no grudges, nor any
ill will toward a person. But why is it you who comes with this
news?’

‘
I was Caeles’ … friend.’

‘
Are you mournful of his death?’ she asked, her eyes bright in
the darkness.

‘
I could never forget the night of his demise,’ he
said.

‘
Then you’re welcome to spend time in my city to lament for
him.’

‘
Thank you, Regent, but I’ve grieved enough on my journey. I
came only to pass on the news.’

~

It was not much later that they arrived in Pirene. It was
just outside of there that they had first met the violinists, and
where they now gathered by the petrified tree to watch people pray.
Gabel stood for a long time, examining the stone sapling. It was
night-time when the magus came to speak with him.

‘
I must leave you here, Joseph.’

‘
I had a feeling you might.’

‘
You and Teague must travel together without
trouble.’

‘
There’ll be none.’ Gabel stopped, distracted by a drunken
procession that circled the tree and sang slurred hymns.
‘Everything went to plan, it seems.’

‘
It does appear that way, doesn’t it?’ the magus said,
smiling.

‘
I suppose I should thank you. For getting me started on this
whole thing.’

‘
Think nothing of it.’