Arrival

  “Harry, come on! They are almost upon us!”

  “I can’t, Satine—my foot’s trapped—I can’t get it out.” Danger was closing in around them. They could hear the drums beating and the horses’ hooves on the soft ground.

  Men screamed around them and the wind howled.

  Then suddenly, everything seemed to freeze. All around them the sound was muted and the wind stopped as if someone had thrown a switch. Harry and Satine looked on in astonishment at the frozen world. Only the sky moved. They saw lightning strike but could not hear the thunder, and the rain had ceased.

  “What’s happened?” whispered Harry.

  “I have no idea,” Satine said, her heart pounding.

  “Of course you have no idea,” a voice said scornfully.

  They turned to see a body-shaped shadow standing before them. Yellow eyes peered at them through the darkness. The shadow continued to speak in its rumbling voice, “Your ignorance is really quite astounding, never ceasing to think only of yourselves.”

  “Who ... what are you?” Satine asked quietly.

  Harry began to shiver.

  “I am the Equinox,” the creature said and, as he spoke, there was a flash of lightning in the sky right behind him, which lit his wraith-like figure for a moment. He wore a long cloak, and even though it was white, it did not shine or glow against the night sky. Somehow it held only darkness. The hood was drawn over his head so that his face was hidden—all except the eyes. They seemed to bore deep inside Harry and Satine. Harry wanted to hide. He felt exposed. Those eyes could see anything they wanted. They were probing too deeply, and the thought chilled him.

  “I am not confined by good and evil. I am the holder. I was made for one purpose and one only. To watch and to guard,” said the Equinox.

  “Guard what?” asked Satine.

  “The creatures,” he said cryptically. “Creatures made for one only. I wait for him to claim them. Once he comes I will be no more.” He watched them both very closely, and then asked, “Do you need help?”

  “Yes,” Satine said slowly.

  “Then be warned—today I will save you, but tomorrow I may kill you. I am ever-changing.” And with that, he raised his head to the sky and gave a long wavering whistle. It was not loud, but it seeped into every crack in the earth.

  Out of the sky flew two unicorns, one black, one white, weaving about each other, their horns touching every now and then. Their hooves ran through the air and propelled them forward, their huge feathery wings spread wide. They landed with grace and stood very still, gazing at Harry and Satine.

  “You may have the creatures for one day only. You can use them to get out of the marshes and away from your pursuers. Treat them well, for they have a purpose beyond what you can understand.”

  Then the Equinox vanished into the fog, and the world started to move again.

  Satine and Harry slowly approached the unicorns, and, seeing that they were friendly, patted their necks.

  The creatures flattened their wings in invitation to the riders. Satine climbed swiftly onto the white creature. Harry climbed onto the black and wound his fingers into the mane. He clamped his knees down over the unicorn’s flank and flattened himself against the back of the glorious creature. He breathed in the cool scent of its mane and shivered with pleasure. He was actually sitting on a real unicorn! Wait till his friends heard about this!

  The unicorns launched themselves into the air and Harry held on tighter. He turned to look down at the quickly fading ground, and saw their pursuers staring up at them. Then as they climbed higher, the men became mere specks below.

  ***

  As Leostrial watched the two figures disappear into the sky he cursed. There was a flat feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  He had lost her. Odin had always said that his trust in the girl would be his downfall. Now Satine had gone, and there was only grief inside him. He was too clever not to understand the implications of such a flighty departure. Too clever not to understand, finally, that she had never loved him. That she had betrayed him.

  His rage was flat and cold, deadly and permanent. When he ordered his men home, they knew to be quick to follow his command.

  Leostrial’s appearance was misleading. He did not bother with the robes and jewels that a king often wore, but garbed himself instead in a plain battle tunic with a sword at his belt, so that people who did not know him took him for a common warrior and no more. He had not been with the original party of soldiers he’d sent to pursue the fugitives, but had ridden out to join them when they did not return. He had found them lost in the marshes. And he had come too late. So now they were riding home without victory. The soldiers’ stupidity was atrocious! They had behaved like useless babes without their mothers! Leostrial wasn’t accustomed to being beaten. But it was more than the pain of defeat that stayed with him. There was a hurt inside him too deep for words.

  No one understood how deeply love cut through Leostrial. How deeply he was affected by it. It drove his ambition and was part of the reason he had taken over—his was a past full of loss that he never spoke of.

  And what Leostrial had felt for Satine was too surprising and too deep for him to remain unchanged.

  By the time they returned to the castle, the soldiers were exhausted and frightened, aware that there would be consequences for their failure to capture the escapees. The king entered his room and shut the door behind him.

  “Arrange to have the hunting party forego rest until they have acquainted themselves intimately with the marshes,” he barked. “I don’t want to see any of them again until they have made it through and back twice. Never again will they lose their way on a task set by me.” He paused and clasped his hands together before murmuring, “And send for Locktar—we cannot have spies telling our secrets now, can we?”

  Chapter 6

  Eben looked about cautiously for more sabre-tooths. After a week and a day of swift riding, they had encountered two separate packs of sabre-tooths. They had despatched the beasts, and were now about to enter the Elvish lands.

  Silven took a deep breath and sighed with pleasure. “Smells like home, cousin,” he said in Elvish.

  “We have been away too long,” Eben replied heavily.

  “Eben, we had to go. The humans needed us and despite what your mother says, we need them. They grow in number. We need to make alliances, or we shall disappear along with our ancestors.”

  Silven knew that Eben was torn between what he knew was right and what his mother had told him. Whenever he could, he tried to reassure Eben that they were doing the right thing. He didn’t want anarchy—they all treasured their queen. But she had old-fashioned views. And survival, for the Elves, would mean change.

  “I know this,” Eben sighed.

  The two Elves looked ahead and rode on in silence. They sat high on their horses, for all of their race stood a head or so taller than the tallest of men. They were indescribably graceful, their fluid elegance something that had awed the people of Sitadel on their recent visit to the capital city. Eben and Silven, the two princes of the ancient race of immortals had ridden, against the wishes of their queen, to meet with the King of Lapis Matyr in order to negotiate a treaty. A treaty in a time of looming threats. With the country of Lapis Matyr under the rule of an unstable tyrant, and in such unsteady turmoil, there had been an understanding that if the need ever arose, humans and Elves would work together. They would fight together.

  Eben’s mother disagreed. She felt that Elves should not involve themselves with any human matters. The races were separate, and always would be.

  Eben and Silven, the two eldest princes of the Elves, came finally to the edge of their land. They slowed their horses with soft, musical words. They wore their long white hair tied at the nape of their necks, and their riding garb was woven with fabric that looked like rippling water as it moved over their bodies.

  As they rode from the country of Cynis Witron and into the Elvish lands, a huge white s
hape loomed on the horizon. As they drew nearer, a gigantic castle that sparkled in the sun came into focus.

  The ice castle of the Elves: an entire city made from ice, glimmering in the sun.

  All around them tiny, glowing creatures with delicate, gossamer wings flew through the air, but the Elves paid the pixies no heed.

  The castle in the middle of the city had a set of ice steps leading up from the ice street. It was not at all slippery. They entered the castle but did not feel the chill, immune to the cold as they were. The city was not completely transparent, because the ice was so thick.

  This was where the Elf queen lived with the royal family.

  Then she appeared, walking barefoot down the steps to meet them. Liensenne, the longest-standing ruler of the Elves.

  “Hello, my darlings,” she spoke to her son and nephew in Elvish, embracing them gently.

  “Mother,” Eben responded warmly.

  “Come inside. We have things to discuss,” she murmured and led the way.

  They glanced at each other as they followed her inside. Sitting down at a round ice table, the queen laced her fingers together daintily and looked at the two Elves expectantly.

  “We could not get through to Lapis Matyr—his position is hostile, but we have an understanding with Cornelius,” Silven said. “If Leostrial decides to wage war against Cynis Witron we will lend our help.”

  The queen remained silent.

  “We know it is not your wish,” the younger Elf continued. “But we believe it is best.”

  “And you feel you have a say in that matter?” she asked softly.

  He faltered. “I know we do.”

  “You have directly disobeyed me.” Her eyes flashed dangerously. “You have gone against your queen. You have betrayed your people.”

  “We have betrayed no one!” Eben rose to his feet. “The four princes of the Elves have a say in all matters which concern our kind. Do not pretend otherwise.”

  “There are no longer four princes,” the queen murmured, and the room fell silent. There was too much in such a statement, too much sadness, too much loss.

  “And fighting like this only sullies his name,” Eben whispered.

  Tension filled the air as the two Elves waited to see how the queen would respond.

  “He has no name to sully,” she murmured. “Not after what he did.”

  ***

  Anna opened her eyes to see a man clothed all in grey looking intently down at her.

  “Close your eyes and go back to sleep, my dear.” He spoke so gently that she obeyed, feeling relief as sleep swept over her again.

  She drifted in and out of consciousness over the next couple of days. The pain in her chest and leg was terrible, but she felt a healing taking place. The sadness she had been feeling over the last few months and hiding from her friends had started to slowly lift from her heart. Maybe, maybe ... it would be different here?

  When she finally awoke, Luca was sitting with his head rested on the side of her bed, sleeping lightly. There were bags under his eyes and his skin was pale. She peered around and saw that she was in a stone room with a window. This was not her house. She wasn’t in a hospital. Where was she?

  Anna began to panic. Her troubled breathing woke Luca, and he laid a hand on her head.

  “Samshon!” he called out and smoothed her hair. “Anna, Anna, it’s okay, you’re safe,” he said softly.

  “Where are we?” she wheezed.

  “We’re in another world, we crossed over—above the cliff—remember?”

  “Where are the others?” she asked.

  “That I don’t know,” said Luca. “Not yet.”

  And then she remembered. Anna’s breathing slowed and she slumped back onto her pillows. “It actually worked. This is incredible. We made it through.” And then she remembered something else, and groaned.

  “What? What’s wrong? Are you still hurt? I thought Samshon had healed you.”

  “No, no, Luca, I’m fine. I just remembered something, that’s all. Is Samshon the old man in white? Was he the one that healed me? I need to talk to him.” Anna struggled to get out of bed, but Luca stopped her.

  “No way, Anna. You almost died. Just stay there and I’ll get him for you.”

  “There is no need, I am here,” Samshon entered the room. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine, but I need to talk to you about something.” She threw a guilty look in the Luca’s direction, then continued in a hurry. “When you were healing me, did you find out anything about ... any other ailments?”

  The man’s face softened in sorrow. “If you are talking about the growth in your chest, then I am sorry, but I could not extinguish it. I have never seen anything like it,” Samshon said quietly.

  Anna’s face fell slightly and she grasped Luca’s hand in comfort.

  “The failure of healing a patient,” the man continued, “is a sorrow I hold very close to my heart. It pains me greatly that I cannot heal this for you.”

  “Of course you could not heal it,” she said quietly. “I could not expect that. The doctors have said I may have a few years if I’m strong.” She paused for a moment and then said, in a determined voice, “And I am strong.”

  “I am sorry,” Samshon said again.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go for a walk,” said Anna.

  “You can’t be out of bed!” said Luca, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears.

  Samshon shrugged. “It is up to you Anna. If you feel well enough to walk, then walk. The growth shows no signs of affecting you yet. I daresay it will not be until the end of your time that you start to feel the illness,” he said sorrowfully, and then left them alone.

  Without a word, Luca showed Anna around the vast palace of Amalia. The wide expanse of garden was supposedly the most celebrated in the world of Paragor. The dining halls and the kitchens were both huge, as the Amalian palace was home to many noblemen and women, servants and the royal family. The sewing rooms were full of ladies-in-waiting, people in the stables and the armoury went about their daily business—shoeing, grooming and feeding horses, sharpening weapons, fitting armour and practising swordplay. The food cellars were vast, as were the wash-rooms.

  “Where are the showers?” Anna asked when they stood amongst the rows and rows of wooden tubs.

  “Just baths,” Luca told her. “And the water has to be heated on the stove if you want it to be hot.”

  Anna stared at him with an expression of such disappointment that he couldn’t help but smile.

  “Can we go outside the palace and look at the city?” she asked.

  “We’re not allowed.”

  “Why?”

  Luca shrugged. “Gaddemar says it isn’t safe for Strangers to be on the streets. People would go crazy with excitement if they knew we were here. It’s probably best that we do as he says for now.”

  After the tour, they went back to the gardens and found a bench to sit on. The garden was unlike anything on Earth—there were hedge mazes and rose bushes that grew three storeys high. In some parts it was impossible to see the sky because there were so many trees with flowers and buds in all the colours you could name. But the pair paid little attention to the beauty before them.

  “There’s another reason the king wants our presence to be kept a secret,” Luca said flatly. “He doesn’t want news of us to reach the tyrant.”

  “Tyrant?”

  “In Lapis Matyr, a country over the sea, there’s some guy who killed the real king and now he’s ruling there. Everyone seems to think he’s planning to wage war on the rest of the countries in Paragor.”

  “Including this one?” Anna asked.

  “Especially this one.”

  There was a silence. “Wow,” she said. “Bad timing for us.”

  “How long have you known?” Luca asked suddenly, unable to keep the question from his lips any longer.

  Anna sighed. “About six months or so.”

  “Six
months!” he exclaimed, turning to look at her. He didn’t ask the question he wanted to. Not yet. “But you’re so young! You’re seventeen, Anna! Girls of seventeen don’t get cancer!”

  She gave him a look that was achingly hollow and he bit his lip.

  “Why didn’t you tell any of us?” he asked, not looking at her.

  She looked at the ground. “I didn’t want pity,” she said.

  “Perhaps that is not your choice to make,” he said, trying to keep the anger and underlying terror from his voice.

  “I am the one dying, not you,” she said calmly.

  Luca felt something grip his heart. “I know, Anna. That’s the point. You are dying, and you are one of my best friends. Don’t I deserve to be told, or would I have found out from the invitation to your funeral?” He knew he had gone too far as soon as the words left his mouth. Anna’s face went pale and her body stiffened.

  “You are right. My feelings don’t matter. I should be thinking of everyone else.”

  “Anna, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that—”

  “How did you mean it then?” she hissed.

  “I meant that I love you, and I want to share this with you. I want to take some of the burden, that’s all.”

  “But you can’t share it with me! The burden is mine alone.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “We are always alone, Luca. I am alone in life, as I will be alone in my death.”

  “How can you say that? Has our friendship meant nothing to you?” he asked.

  Anna turned to him then, finally, and her face softened as she noted his tears. “Your friendship has meant everything to me, Luca. Everything. But I have realised that you can never really get away from being truly alone. It is the sorrow of human kind. We cannot share our thoughts perfectly, as we cannot share our feelings. The journey of life is truly a lonely one, just like the journey of death.”

  “I don’t understand—aren’t you frightened? Angry? You should be angry, Anna!”

  She looked at him then, and her eyes were suddenly so fierce and so full of rage that Luca shut his mouth with a loud snap. He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”