The Bell Between Worlds (56 page)

Finally, higher than they would have thought possible, they saw a dark, angular pinnacle: the very top of the pyramid.

There, on a narrow, square terrace, stood a lone figure. It was completely still, a long cloak billowing out behind it, the head turning with the sweep of their glider, following its every move. In that fleeting moment they were filled with hope; their hearts rose and Sylas opened his mouth to cry Espen’s name.

But then he stopped. A shiver passed through his body and a terrible cold flowed into his veins. The figure was not dressed in black, but scarlet; it was not broad, but frail and crooked and stooped. Its shoulders were drawn forward towards its hanging hood and, as the wind lapped at the folds of the gown, he saw the outline of wasted bones and twisted limbs. Suddenly the wind rose a little, lifting the hood just a fraction so that the moonlight slanted inside. There was no face in the shadows. Nothing but a mask of scarlet cloth.

“Thoth,” breathed Naeo.

A wave of horror and fear passed through them, drawing the air from their lungs, clawing at their throats. They were seized by terror and despair, as if the night was closing in and pulling them back to earth.

As they rounded the apex of the pyramid, they saw something else. Something lying at Thoth’s feet. A large bundle of rags.

It was moving.

“What... what’s that?” mumbled Sylas.

But he already knew. He could see the shape of a man’s body within the folds of clothing. A hand curled into a fist. A bald head, glistening with sweat, covered almost completely in tattoos.

“No...!” whimpered Naeo, raising a hand to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears.

But then, as they both wavered, as the great canvas bird faltered in the air, Bowe moved. His body straightened, his limbs straining, his back arching. Suddenly he was looking straight at them, his vivid green eyes clear and bright, glistening with the light of the city far below.

His voice came to them on a silent wave. It entered them unexpectedly, powerfully, as though he was speaking at their ear. But his words resonated somewhere deeper, in their minds, their hearts.

“Fly, my child...” he said. “Fly for us all!”

His voice surged through them, lifted their eyes, burned in their veins. Suddenly they came back to themselves, and they knew what they had to do.

Together they pulled on the bar and shifted their weight, banking sharply, allowing the glider to pull them swiftly away. The great frame creaked, the canvas fluttered and moments later they were sailing out across the city, leaving the Dirgheon, Bowe and the terrifying figure of Thoth far behind.

They flew in silence, the image still fixed in their minds: Bowe straining to look up at them and above him, Thoth stooped over his prey. In some ways it was as though they had seen nothing of the Priest of Souls, and yet they felt that they had seen too much: that somehow they had connected with that hollow, broken figure. They felt that they had seen into his blackened eyes and, in the same moment, Thoth had looked into them. He had seen their warmth and their bond; he had seen their hope turning to despair; and in that one glance he had seen Sylas’s long journey – the Shop of Things, his passage through the Passing Bell, his flight, the Barrens, Simia, Filimaya…

The glider moved gracefully through the night, borne on magical winds, occasionally turning or tipping slightly on a current, its timber skeleton bending and creaking on eddies of air. And, as they flew, so they were soothed by the gentle motion of the wings, the play of the breeze, the twinkle of torchlight far below.

The cold started to leave Sylas’s limbs and slowly, as they came out of their darkest thoughts, he remembered Simia and Ash. They scoured the darkness, hoping beyond hope to see a hardly visible shape, black upon black, turning and swooping at their side.

For some moments they saw nothing, then a dark silhouette shifted in the blackness ahead of them.

For an instant it was gone, but then it reappeared, twisted in the air, then sailed steadily towards them, growing larger and larger. It was too dark to see at first, but then the moonlight caught its wings, its angular shape, its gliding motion. Sylas was about to call out, but his breath caught. He stopped.

Its wings were not fixed and broad like a glider’s – they were moving: rising and falling, twisting and tilting in the wind.

It was not a glider at all, but a giant living bird with a proud, angular head, piercing eyes and smooth downy feathers. It was one of the great black eagles he had seen circling the Dirgheon.

It banked, turned and disappeared into the darkness. Even as it did, two others appeared, and then another. Soon they could see six or eight eagles circling and wheeling above the city as though calling them on. And although they took their own path, they did not leave; instead they came together, gathering around them, swooping and turning, diving and climbing. Sylas’s heart pounded, blood coursing through his veins. The great birds were flying with them, sharing in their journey. They drew ever closer, the sound of their beating wings floating on the wind, their pale grey eyes shining in the moonlight.

“There!” cried Naeo.

She pointed a short distance ahead of them and there, drifting just below a line of cloud, was the other glider, silhouetted against the lamplights far below.

Sylas and Naeo banked, gathered pace and descended towards their friends, watching as the giant eagles glided ahead of them, behind them, above and below them. They called out to Simia and Ash and their friends yelled their greetings while the great flock looped playfully about them, matching human cries with their own, dancing lightly through the air, welcoming them, leading them.

Simia shrieked with delight and leaned out towards a passing bird, her hand touching the velvety feathers; Naeo and Ash exchanged smiles and looked ahead, across the city to the dark, winding river, the broad estuary and the open sea beyond.

Sylas gazed out at the silent beating wings, at the majestic eagles dancing their dark ballet, and he smiled. He reached out, took Naeo’s hand and together they headed out over the carpet of light, flanked by the birds of his dreams.