Descent

  Jack sat on the balcony of his room, his head in his hands, once again trying to contact Mia. She had closed her mind to him, so that he couldn’t talk to her or connect with her, and he couldn’t for the life of him work out why she would be so cruel. Yesterday, when Jane had returned and joined all of their minds together had been the first time he’d spoken to Mia since she’d left.

  ‘Any luck, mate?’ Harry asked, coming through his room to join him outside.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Maybe you want to give her a bit of space?’

  Jack shook his head stubbornly. ‘No way. She needs to know I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere. What if she’s in danger? Or something’s happened to her?’

  ‘Anna and I have been keeping an eye on her. So far so good.’

  Jack frowned and folded his arms, content to continue brooding. He was so tired. Everything had turned into a blur. The days now seemed to be about getting from one moment to the next without breaking down. He needed to sleep, but was terrified of doing so. The things he saw were too frightening to name.

  ‘Look, man,’ Harry said. ‘I came to talk to you about something. Anna is planning a trip to Cynis Witron to see Jane and I don’t think you should go with her.’

  Jack’s head snapped up. ‘Why not? Cynis Witron is closer to Tirana, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but you can’t follow Mia around the world. She needs to do this on her own.’

  ‘I know, I know. Whatever.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me like I’m you’re dad,’ Harry snapped.

  ‘Well stop acting so ... sensible!’ Jack hissed. ‘I hate this damn place—everyone’s completely boring! No one has any fun here!’

  ‘That isn’t true!’ Harry tried to argue, but the words died on his lips as he realised his friend was fairly spot on. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said, sighing. ‘But that’s because these are dark times. No one feels right about laughing too much anymore.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I know,’ Jack grumbled. ‘It’s all very grey and depressing. Well I want to go home. And I want Mia to come to her senses and come with me.’

  ‘There’s no way to get home.’

  ‘And isn’t that just wonderful!’ Jack snapped. ‘Thank you so much, Harry, for getting us into this mess. Top job you’ve done on ruining our lives forever.’

  The air seeped out of Harry’s lungs. ‘I was just trying ... I thought...’ Suddenly it hit him. He was allowing Jack to make him feel bad, just like he had when they were kids.

  ‘Look,’ Harry said calmly. ‘I know you’re upset right now, but things will get better. You’ll talk to Mia and realise that not everything’s ruined, and you’ll realise that Paragor’s a great place. Don’t take your bitterness about your girlfriend dumping you out on me.’

  Jack’s head slumped into his hands, too tired to summon up an apology. Harry stared at him.

  ‘Jack, man,’ he said, ‘You’re making me really worried. I know you’ve been lying to me about not sleeping, and I know the wound in your shoulder hasn’t healed. The reason I want you to stay here is so that Elixia can help you. She’s trained in dream sequencing, which means that she can control her dreams. The only way for you to survive this is if you learn how to do the same.’

  Jack looked at his friend, his eyes blurry. He opened his mouth to argue, then realised that he was being stupid. He nodded. Harry sighed in relief, putting his arm around Jack.

  ‘You know, I have dreams too.’

  ‘Valkyrie nightmares?’

  ‘At first I thought they were. Dark flying creatures invading my sleep seemed like they could only be one thing. But after having fought Valkyries for two years, I can tell the difference.’

  ‘So what is it you dream about then?’

  Harry hesitated, his eyes darkening with worry. ‘I think they’re angels.’

  ‘Like the one we saw in our first dream?’

  He shook his head slowly. ‘No. Not at all like the first one.’ Harry paused, then seemed to snap out of it. ‘I’ve arranged a session for you with Elixia this afternoon.’ He added in a brighter tone. ‘Try not to sleep until then. I’m going to ride out to the watch-tower and see if there is anything I can do to help.’

  Jack perked up a bit. ‘I’ll come with you!’

  ‘No, Jack.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s way too dangerous.’

  ‘For me, but not for you?’ he snapped. ‘I can help!’

  Harry put his hands on his friend’s shoulder. ‘Listen to me. You have no training. You would have no way to protect yourself, and I can’t be looking after both of us. Plus you look like you’re about to keel over with exhaustion.’

  ‘This is rubbish!’ Jack raged. ‘What the hell is the point of me even being here if I don’t do anything? Wasn’t the prophecy about the six of us?’ He stalked out of the room, leaving Harry to stare ruefully after him.

  Harry knew Jack’s temper was only so bad because he was so exhausted. He hated the idea that he could do nothing to help his friend, hated the fact that Jack thought he had to suffer in silence.

  He took a horse from the stables and rode deep within the western forest where once he had hidden as a fugitive with Satine. The woods were not a safe place for a lone rider, but he was armed, and just then he didn’t really care. He was different today, perhaps like the forest around him. It seemed more silent, and more still.

  The snow had mostly all melted during the morning sun, but it was still cold. He came across a gushing waterfall and stood in the small clearing next to it, listening. There were none of the usual noises that came from a living, thriving forest. No movement. It was as though everything living had died, and nature itself had just ... stopped.

  He longed for the beauty he remembered when he first arrived, instead of the fear that now followed everyone around.

  The watch-tower was only a few hundred metres outside the forest and he rode his horse hard to get there before sunset. Soon it appeared in the distance, a giant stone pinnacle. Within its circular walls were the barracks for the unit of men stationed there, and at the very top was the sight-room, with gaps in the walls from which to fire arrows. Every night a dozen men would be posted in that room, spread out so that all angles might be covered. Harry knew, from having done stints in the towers in Lapis Matyr, that these were highly trained and battle-hardened men. It did not stop them from dying.

  As he dismounted, the large metal door to the tower was opened, and a soldier looked at him quizzically.

  ‘How can I help you?’ he asked gruffly. There was no malice, just curiosity—the towers didn’t often have visitors.

  ‘I’m Harry. The Stranger.’ He found it was usually best to be upfront about who he was. The soldier’s eyes widened.

  ‘I came to offer a hand on watch tonight, and to get an update on how things have been going.’

  The man nodded, gesturing for Harry to enter. ‘You’ll be wanting to talk to Terret. He’s in the sight-room.’

  Harry jogged his way up the winding steps. As he passed the dorm rooms on each level he could see men playing dice, or reading, or practising archery to pass the time. Man, what a life, he thought. Being away from your family for months at a time, with nothing to do but sit and wait to be attacked.

  Finally he reached the top level and poked his head into the large room. Twelve sets of crudely made binoculars were perched around the walls, and next to each station sat a large long bow and a quiver filled with arrows. In the centre of the room was a huge glass bulb, and within it was a mighty, dancing flame, warming the room and serving as one of their fiercest weapons. When the hatch above the bulb was opened, the huge lamp shone a burst of bright light into the sky, instantly killing any Valkyries within it. Anna had come up with the idea, her quick mind always looking for new ways to develop their defence.

  The men were only just preparing to start a shift, and were sitting down to an afternoon meal.

  ‘Hello—what do we have
here?’ an amused voice called and Harry looked over to see that the twelve men seated around a small table were staring at him in surprise.

  ‘Who are you?’ another burly man asked.

  ‘My name’s Harry.’

  It took a moment for them to realise who he must be. ‘The Bright One?’

  From the table of large, bearded men, rose a very small boy with pale blond hair and a smooth chin. Each man looked at the boy with deference and admiration, allowing him the honour of greeting a Stranger. The boy extended a hand, his blue eyes warm and friendly. With a flash of recognition, Harry remembered the young criminal who had fought in the arena against Accolon all those years ago. He had to work hard to keep the shock from his face—he’d known Terret was young, but he’d had no idea he would seem like a child! Harry thought back to how old the boy had been two years ago. Fourteen then, which made him sixteen now. He looked about twelve.

  Terret shook Harry’s hand, his grip surprisingly firm for such a thin arm. ‘Greetings. We are honoured beyond measure to have you here among us, my lord.’ His voice was high, and had yet to break.

  Harry stared at the child. The greatest army general Uns Lapodis had, the people said of Terret. Treasured by the High King, who’d seen something in him over two years ago, and who’d promoted him quickly through the ranks.

  He never went home, the rumours said, but lived out here in these watchtowers, relentlessly on guard. Tales of his deeds in this war reached every corner of the world.

  ‘The honour is mine,’ Harry said seriously, for some reason absurdly touched by the boy’s youth. It made him feel better about his own young age in a land of such powerful men and women. It made him realise, too, that they were not yet without hope. There were still people in this world who could surpass expectations, who could be brilliant and brave and who would never give up, and the knowledge made Harry’s heart swell with pride to consider himself a man of this world.

  ‘I just came to offer my help for a night or two, for what good that will do.’

  Terret’s blue eyes flashed. ‘Every helping hand is a gift from the gods. Are you trained with a bow?’

  Harry nodded.

  ‘Then take a seat. You’re one of us now.’

  Chapter 20

  It seemed to Mia that their journey took much longer than half a day. It was hot and windy, and the same sand dunes seemed to be everywhere, but she liked it nonetheless. There was pleasure in such base elements.

  Eventually they stopped, and Liam gestured to the huge space in front of them. ‘Go on then,’ the Emperor said. His patience seemed to be waning.

  Mia looked away from him, wringing her hands. Embarrassment crawled over her skin, for now that she was here she didn’t have any idea what to do.

  She recalled the conversation she’d had with Jane the day before. It was strange, the difference having their friend back made within everyone’s mind-voices. They were all brighter than they had been only a day before. They’d barely had a chance to talk, and yet Mia felt better just knowing Jane was here. Jane had an uncanny way, like Luca once had, of making everything seem all right. And just knowing that she could open her mind and feel like she was standing next to Jane and the others made Mia feel instantly better.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Another image came to her, this time of the man in the water, and it was this, surprisingly, which calmed her the most.

  Mia opened her eyes and looked into the desert in front of her. The tiny insects that skidded across the dunes, the wind that swept through the sand, lifting it in an erratic dance. She looked at this country as she had never looked at anything before.

  As if from nowhere, like a bubble rising out of her subconscious, there were words on her lips. She sent the deepest cadences of her soul out to the space before her. And then she spoke.

  ‘When the bright queen embraces dark,

  Her children will be lost.

  To bring them back, it calls for blood,

  And the screams of eternity will be heard no longer.’

  The skin on Mia’s inner forearms split, and blood spilt onto the sand. Cries came from the people around her, but Mia ignored them, fighting to control her own overwhelming fear.

  The sand began to stir, the ground to shake and rumble. A white tip broke the surface of the sand. It was fast then, rising completely, an enormous series of buildings surrounded by a huge wall, sand falling away from it in waves.

  The ground shook, and those standing were forced to their knees. Only Mia remained standing, her legs wide, her arms raised and dripping blood.

  At last the shaking stopped and all the sand settled once more. And there it sat. The image of her dreams, her nightmares, her desires. Mighty Samaraq, white and gold, glistening in the hot sun, waiting for her.

  Mia had a sudden, terrifying sense of recognition. It was beautiful, and it felt like home.

  The men were on their knees, staring in wonder.

  Mia went forward to the golden gates, and they were pulled open for her by those inside. An explosion of noise hit her, thousands of cheering voices and trumpets—a mighty celebration was raging. Mia walked slowly inside to be greeted by cries of joy. There were people everywhere, singing and dancing for freedom.

  She was standing on a wide road that ran all the way through the city to the mighty palace on the other side. There were houses and shops closely packed together on either side of the road, and she had no doubt that they would spread out for leagues.

  Children ran around her legs, and adults of many different skin colours stood on either side of the road, cheering as she walked the distance to the palace.

  Excitement and incredulity prompted her forward, making her heart beat faster with every wonderful step. She would have to greet the queen, she remembered, and suddenly she felt nervous.

  Mia walked with her friends behind her, past the hundreds of smiling people, past the markets that ran alongside road. There were people playing music, and those in the higher rooms of the buildings showered her with flower petals, screaming their approval.

  Looking around her, Mia was reminded of what she knew about ancient Rome. The buildings were stone, not high, but very wide. The roads were compacted dirt, and the people wore white robes, long or short, with gold belts to match their glorious city.

  The palace was white and gold also. It had great pillars and pointed roofs, and waiting at the top of the steps was a man. A man that Mia knew.

  It was her rescuer from beneath the water. He was short and stocky, his skin dark, his eyes equally so.

  An image of a king, she thought. A beautiful king, standing in the doors of his mighty palace.

  And then, this man bent into a deep bow, athletically graceful, at her feet.

  ‘We are beyond gratitude and beyond joy, your majesty,’ he murmured softly, his voice deep and rich like honey, ‘at the return of our saviour. The sun shines in your heart, Queen Nayana.’

  The man looked up at her, and Mia felt her heart turn cold.

  ‘What ... what did you call me?’ she whispered.

  ‘I called you by your title, your majesty, as you have asked me to do countless times,’ he said with a hint of humour.

  ‘But ... my title? What title?’

  He looked up sharply and into her eyes, and then his own seemed to widen. He stood. ‘What is your name?’ he asked carefully.

  ‘Mia,’ she replied desperately. ‘This is the first time I’ve been here. I only came because I thought ... I felt ... I dreamt of this city...’

  There was a sudden, acute pain in the man’s eyes. ‘You do not remember?’ he asked roughly, and it was then that Mia realised they were speaking a different language. A language she did not know, and yet was pouring from her mouth.

  ‘Remember what?’ she asked faintly and he closed his eyes.

  ‘Come inside so that we may talk and I can have you attended to,’ he said and led them in to the palace. Mia looked down and saw that her arms were
still oozing blood—probably the reason for her light-headedness. Was she hallucinating all of this?

  Inside she was overcome by the contrasting silence. The ceilings were so high she could barely see them, and great pillars supported their weight.

  There was a fountain in the middle of the huge entrance room, and it trickled calmingly, surrounded by luscious green plants, an oasis in the desert.

  ‘Why did you call me that?’ Mia asked once a small woman in white had come to bandage her arm.

  ‘Sit down,’ he offered and she gratefully sank onto a long couch.

  ‘Where are my friends?’ she asked, leaning forward.

  ‘Waiting outside—I’ll have them taken care of.’

  Mia nodded uncertainly.

  ‘I called you Nayana,’ the man said gently, ‘because that is who you are.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, wishing she didn’t have to disappoint him. ‘You must be mistaken. My name is Mia.’

  He didn’t say anything, but the way he was looking at her made her uncomfortable. It was as though he pitied her.

  ‘I’m a Stranger to Paragor,’ she explained. ‘I arrived here a little over a week ago.’

  Still he was silent. He shook his head, as though something was hurting him a great deal.

  ‘You look younger,’ he murmured.

  ‘I’m not Nayana! How could I possibly be!’

  ‘I don’t know why you don’t remember,’ he sighed, ‘but a very long time ago your name was Nayana, and you were the Queen of Samaraq. You have been reborn in another body and another time so that you could resurrect us. Every person here recognised you for who you are. I can see it in your eyes. They are exactly the same as when I last saw you, and to me that was but a breath ago.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Mia said desperately. Suddenly she wished Jack were here.