Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales) (66 page)

They stepped cautiously into a large hall. The great curving staircase and the marble floor put Stevie in mind of a ballroom, neglected for several hundred years. The atmosphere swam with watery aqua gloom and swampy smells, like the decaying beauty of Venice distilled.

“I can feel Aurata here, even though she’s gone.” Mist’s voice was hoarse; he sounded close to tears. In silence, she followed him upstairs, exploring all the haunted yet empty rooms. “I can feel Veropardus and Slahvin, even Rufus, as if they all left their imprints behind.”

In the large salon, a flash of gold caught her eye. For a few moments, it seemed the walls were not empty but covered in paintings: all of Felynx history, as portrayed by Daniel’s images. She glimpsed statues, and the glowing crystal sphere of the Felixatus itself, and other intricate clockwork models, and even the ghastly severed hand that had belonged to Rufus. But she could pin nothing down. As soon as she tried to look directly, the teasing ephemera vanished.

“Can objects leave ghosts behind, too?” she whispered.

“So it seems.” Mist looked calm but rather pale. “I think we should go, before we start meeting projections of my sister or Albin. Let them rest.”

When they came back down into the hall again, Stevie stared at the spiral pattern in the floor and felt an irresistible impulse. She stepped onto the first black tile and slowly began to follow the spiral round and inward.

Mist said, “Stevie, I don’t think you should…”

She hesitated, knowing what he feared. Walking a spiral was to tread a magical path: especially risky, when it was one still soaked in Aurata’s rituals.

“Come with me, then,” she said, holding out her hand. “If you want to lay all this to rest, don’t be scared.”

“I am not scared,” he retorted. With a wry half-smile he took her hand and they trod the enchanted path together. It was an almost childish pleasure, like following a maze, thrilling yet unnerving.

Not that she expected anything to happen—but as they reached the middle, she received the shock of her life. A tall, translucent man appeared from nowhere, poised like a statue on the round, star-flecked tile at the heart of the spiral. He had black and white robes, sleek black hair, and a dark lynx mask that he now removed to reveal a striking godlike face with golden eyes.

Mist bumped into Stevie as she stopped dead. They clung hard to each other’s hands.

“
Father?
” Mist gasped.

“Mist, my dearest son.”

Mist bowed to the apparition of Poectilictis, his right hand on his chest. Astonished, Stevie did the same. “What—how can you be here?”

“I cannot explain. An inner call drew me to meet you. Time and place may become a magical intersection that can never be repeated, and we have both waited too long for this.”

“What do you want of me?” Mist’s question sounded abrupt, but Stevie understood. He went straight to the point, because he knew his time with his father would be precious and limited.

Poectilictis held a small, glowing blue jewel between his fingers and thumb, like a tiny Felixatus.

“I made many grave mistakes,” he said. “Not least was trusting Veropardus. And trying to keep our exile from Naamon secret. And another lay in trapping so many soul-essences within the Felixatus.”

“But you did all that to protect us, didn’t you?”

Poectilictis shook his head. “Did you blame Veropardus for their imprisonment?”

“Yes! I assumed that you acted to keep us safe, while
he
and Aurata wanted to control the Felynx forever. Didn’t they?”

“Oh, you think too highly of me,” Poectilictis sighed. “None of us behaved well. It’s true that he and Aurata plotted against me, and tried to use the Felixatus for their own ends. But
I
was the one who wanted all the Felynx held captive. I wanted our small empire kept together for all time. I believed in unity and control, not freedom. I thought my motives were benign, but in truth, they were not.”

Mist took in this confession with a look of near-grief. “This is not allowed. You’re my father, you’re not allowed to be imperfect! Don’t destroy my illusions!”

Poectilictis chuckled. “My dear, best beloved son, I’m telling you for a reason. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking that
you’re
perfect either. Do you think it’s virtuous to relinquish power, to walk away from a position of authority over the Spiral Court? No, you’re only putting off the inevitable. One day,
one day
, you will have to go back and take up your responsibilities, because it is your vocation and your duty. Furthermore, I command it. It’s your very imperfection that will make you resilient enough to do the job. Do you love your father?”

“Yes! Yes, I love you with all my being.”

“Then will you obey me?”

“No, I won’t obey,” Mist said stiffly. “But I
will
do as you ask, because it’s right.”

Smiling, Poectilictis stretched out to touch both Mist’s hand and Stevie’s. “May the blessings of Estel the Eternal fall upon you both. I can go now, find Theliome, and rest at last.”

He turned and began to glide away. Mist said, “Father, wait,” but Poectilictis didn’t react. His tall translucent figure diminished rapidly, as if he’d passed into a remote dimension. The hall was empty again. Stevie looked down to find he’d placed a small blue jewel on a silver chain into her hand. Mist was holding its twin.

Each jewel was set into a delicate pendant shaped like an Aelyr creature. Carved silver snake coils encircled the blue stone, but the creature’s head, forming a bail through which the chain was threaded, was that of a lynx.

“Damn,” said Mist at last, twisting the gem to catch the light. “There’s no escape, is there? One day, I will have to go into the Spiral and take charge, no doubt to defend us against a new threat. Why me? But why not?” He sounded resigned, very nearly cheerful. “Poectilictis laid this obligation on me the day I was born. I give in. There’s nothing to do but accept it.”

“Not on your own, though. Look, he’s placed this bond on both of us.” Stevie held up her own jewel with a rueful grin. “What are these? Gifts from the Otherworld?”

“It’s never that straightforward. Spiral gifts come with conditions.”

“I thought as much. And they’re the exact color of the jewel Albin wore on his forehead … does that mean something? Deeper sight into other worlds?”

“That would be useful,” said Mist. “However, I suspect we’ll be sent messages through them, when the time comes. A summoning.”

“In that case, mightn’t we also be able to contact each other through the gems, if we happened to be apart?” Stevie moved closer to him, turning her head and sweeping her hair from her neck. “Will you put mine on for me, please?”

She felt the cool links on her neck, but he hesitated. “Chains have multiple meanings,” he said softly. “These are more than decorative. They’re also chains of office, of being bound and constrained by duty.”

“Just fasten it, then I’ll do yours.”

With a sigh, he complied. It felt like an exchange of vows: not exactly a wedding, but something close. Stevie disentangled strands of Mist’s hair from the silver clasp, then smoothed the nape of his neck, taking her time. She reflected on the endless journey she’d endured to reach this point, and how far she’d evolved from the terrified, nameless girl who’d crawled out of the silver wood. Not to mention the blessings she’d already received, from Persephone and Virginia, Daniel and Frances, Rosie and so many others. Knowledge, confidence, wisdom … and greatest of all, the gift of Mist himself.

The blue gem felt cool yet full of energy on her skin. She said, “Not all chains are bad. Love is a kind of chain that I can live with, can’t you?”

“Soft, silvery and unbreakable.” He laughed, his expression brightening. “Stevie, I love you for seeing the positive side of this.”

“We must, because I think I get it now. Sometime in the future, we’ll have no choice but to take the reins of the Spiral, at least for a while, and whatever harrowing experiences we face may still be caused by the fallout from Aurata and Albin’s excesses. So I vote we make a pact of sanity and balance. If Sam and Rosie can find equilibrium, I’m sure we can. Peace, love and all that.”

“Gods, that is a pact I’m happy to make.” He pressed his lips to her temple and wrapped one arm around her, drawing her towards the door. Outside, elemental Aetherials with serene expressions watched them pass along the Viale dei Belli Segreti. “If we have a chance of bringing peace and renewal to the Spiral, I’d seize it in a heartbeat. We don’t have to repeat the mistakes that others have made.” Mist gave a twisted smile. “Of course, there are no guarantees. We may find a whole lot of
new
mistakes to trip us up.”

“True. But we won’t be alone. We’ll keep each other from screwing up, or going power-mad, right? It might even be fun.”

The avenue ended, and they stepped into the real Venice, dazzled by a bright blue sky. Without breaking stride, Mist lifted Stevie, spun her in a circle and set her down again. “It certainly won’t be dull. And all we have to do is promise each other not to go crazy. Easy!”

“I give you my word,” she said, breathless. “I promise, no drowning of the Otherworld with water elementals, no fire-channeling craziness; none of that, ever—on strict condition that you feed me with delicious Italian ice cream within the next ten minutes.”

“I accept the challenge.” He grinned. “I’ll do my utmost to please you always, Stevie, my brave wild angel, however outrageous your desires may be.”

“Careful, Mist,” she said, laughing. “Bewitch me with vows like that, and you never know … you already know.” Her voice turned soft and serious. “Like it or not, I’m yours forever.”

Author’s Note
Landscapes of the Fantastic

Readers often ask writers where they get their ideas from. Although it may be a cliché, I believe the question is a valid and fascinating one. After all, what
does
go on in our heads?

The basic inspiration behind my Aetherial Tales is simply that I’ve always been enthralled by the idea of mystical beings who look human but aren’t: elves, angels, demons, vampires, faeries, demigods and so on. My Aetherials, or Aelyr, developed as my own version of such a race.

The “others” in the Aetherial Tales are not intended to be traditional elves, faeries, shapeshifters or demons. They are simply themselves. I imagined them as a race that evolved from pure energy, with access to other dimensions and an ability to manipulate reality. Now they have become chameleon creatures, able to blend in with humans when it suits them. Like humans, they are contradictory. Some are good and gentle, and some are most definitely not.

As a writer, I like to get on with a story, rather than creating reams of history and myth for my other-race before I can even start. As a result, my Aetherial “mythos” is developing organically along with the novels. My plan is to catalogue my mythos-so-far and develop it further on my website,
www.fredawarrington.com
.

Each of the Aetherial Tales series—
Elfland
,
Midsummer Night
,
Grail of the Summer Stars
—tells a self-contained, stand-alone story that you can follow without having to read the others. However, as they’re set in the same “universe,” there is an overspill of characters and plotlines from one book to the next.
Elfland
tells the story of Rosie, Sam, Lawrence Wilder and others.
Midsummer Night
explores the conflicts of Dame Juliana Flagg, Gill, Peta, Rufus and company.
Grail of the Summer Stars
, rather to my surprise, completes a plot arc over the three books that I hadn’t planned or expected until it happened! There are also hints of events and characters from my earlier novels. For example, my Aelyr race—or let’s say their distant cousins—first appeared in my epic fantasy
The Amber Citadel
. And when Fin tells Stevie about her friend August, she’s referring to events in my alternative history novel about King Richard III,
The Court of the Midnight King
.

It means a lot to me to make these connections, because I’m realizing that, while each of my novels is different, they’re all part of a bigger whole. After all, the stories are taking place in the internal landscape of my imagination, my own personal Otherworld, so it’s natural to me that characters from different books will sometimes cross paths and say, “
There’s something you ought to know
…”

Also, it’s fun. If readers don’t pick up on these moments, nothing is lost, but if you do happen to spot them, I hope you enjoy them too.

Books by Freda Warrington

AETHERIAL TALES

Elfland
*

Midsummer Night
*

Grail of the Summer Stars
*

THE BLACKBIRD SERIES

Book 1:
A Blackbird in Silver

Book 2:
A Blackbird in Darkness

Book 3:
A Blackbird in Amber

Book 4:
A Blackbird in Twilight

THE BLOOD WINE SEQUENCE

Book 1:
A Taste of Blood Wine

Book 2:
A Dance in Blood Velvet

Book 3:
The Dark Blood of Poppies

Sorrow’s Light

Dark Cathedral

Pagan Moon

Dracula the Undead

The Rainbow Gate

Darker Than the Storm

The Court of the Midnight King

THE JEWELFIRE TRILOGY

Book 1:
The Amber Citadel

Book 2:
The Sapphire Throne

Book 3:
The Obsidian Tower

*
A Tor Book

About the Author