The Sweet Far Thing (10 page)

“Gemma,” Felicity murmurs. Her awe gives way to jubilation. “You’ve done it! We’ve made it back to the realms at last!”

CHAPTER NINE

“IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL!” FELICITY SHOUTS. SHE TWIRLS ABOUT, making herself so dizzy she falls down in the tall grass, but she’s laughing as she does.

“Oh, it is like the most wondrous spring I’ve ever seen,” Ann murmurs. And indeed, it is. Long velvet ropes of moss hang from the tops of trees like gossamer green curtains; branches blossom with pink and white flowers. A gentle breeze sweeps them onto our upturned cheeks and lips. They nestle in my hair, making it smell sweet as new rain. I rub a flower between my fingers, inhaling its scent; I have to be sure that it is real, that I am not dreaming.

“We’re really here, aren’t we?” I ask as Fee entwines herself in the moss as if it were ermine.

“Yes, we are,” Fee assures me.

For the first time in months, hope flutters up through my soul: If I can do this, bring us into the realms, then all is not lost.

“This isn’t the garden,” Ann says. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” I say, looking about. Tall slabs of stone have been erected in a seemingly random pattern that puts me in mind of Stonehenge. Winding through them is a faint dirt path that reaches from
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the door to the realms beyond. The path is difficult to see, as if it hasn’t been used in a very long time.

“There’s a little trail here,” I say. “We’ll follow it.”

As we walk away, the door fades into the rock.

“Gemma,” Ann gasps. “It’s gone!”

It’s as if someone has tightened a string around my heart. I try to keep my wits about me. I take a step toward the rock, and the door glows once again.

“Oh, thank heavens,” I say, letting my breath out in a whoosh, relieved.

“Come on,” Felicity pleads. “I want to see the garden. I want…” She doesn’t finish her sentence.

We follow the path through the stones. Despite being pockmarked with age and dirt, they boast an impressive array of friezes showing women of all sorts. Some are as young as we are; others are as old as the earth itself. Some are clearly warriors, with swords held aloft to the rays of the sun. One sits surrounded by children and fawns, her hair flowing in loose waves to the ground. Another, dressed in chain mail, wrestles a dragon. Priestesses. Queens. Mothers. Healers. It is as if the whole of womanhood is represented here.

Ann gawks at the woman with the dragon. “Who do you suppose they are?”

“Perhaps they were of the Order or older still,” I say. I run my hand across a carving of three women on a barge. The one on the left is a young lady; the one on the right is a bit older; and in the center is a crone holding a lantern aloft, as though she’s waiting for someone. The picture gives me a strange sensation in my belly, as if I’ve glimpsed the future. “They’re remarkable, aren’t they?”

“What’s remarkable is that there isn’t a single blasted corset among them,” Felicity says with a giggle.

“Oh, Gemma, let’s do hurry. I can’t wait much longer.”

The path leads us through tall fields of wheat, past neat rows of olive trees and the grotto where the Runes of the Oracle once stood. At last we find ourselves in the garden we have come to think of as our own private fiefdom.

The moment we’re on familiar ground, Felicity is running. “Pippa?” she calls. “Pippa! Pippa, it’s me, Felicity! We’ve come back!” She searches every corner. “Where is she?”

I cannot bring myself to say what I’m thinking—that our dear friend Pippa is lost to us forever now.

Either she has crossed the river to the land beyond or she has banded together with the Winterlands creatures and become our enemy.

I am waiting for the magic to spark inside me, but it doesn’t behave as it has in the past. I am out of practice.
Right. Begin with something simple, Gemma.
I grab a handful of leaves and close my fingers over them.

I shut my eyes. My heart flutters a few beats faster, and then a sudden fever takes me. It is as if the whole of the world—all experience, past and present—flows through me as quickly as lightning. My blood pulses with new life. A rapturous smile spreads across my lips. And when I open my eyes, the leaves have turned to rubies in my palm.

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“Ha! Look!” I shriek. I toss the gems into the air and they fall like red rain.

“Oh, it’s been so long since we’ve played with magic.” Ann gathers leaves in her hands and blows. The leaves fly on her breath, then drift in a slow spiral to her feet. She frowns. “I wanted them to become butterflies.”

“Here, let me try.” Felicity grabs a handful, but no matter how hard she tries, they become nothing new; they are only leaves. “Why can’t I change them? What’s happened to the magic? How were you able to make the rubies, Gemma?”

“I simply wished it, and there they were,” I say.

“Gemma, you clever girl! You did bind the Temple magic to yourself after all!” Felicity says with a mix of awe and envy. “Every bit of it must live inside you now.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I say, but I can’t make myself believe it. I turn my hands palms up, palms down, staring at them as if I’ve never seen them before. They’re the same dull, freckled hands I’ve always had, and yet…

“Do something else!” Felicity commands.

“Like what?” I ask.

“Turn that tree into a dragon—”

“Not a dragon!” Ann interrupts, wide-eyed.

“Or make the flowers into gentleman callers—”

“Yes, I like that,” Ann says.

“Oh, honestly, Gemma! You’ve the whole of the Temple inside you. Do whatever you wish!”

“All right,” I say. There’s a small rock at my feet. “Hmmm, I’ll, um, I’ll just turn this into a…a…”

“Falcon!” Felicity shouts as Ann says, “Prince!”

I touch the rock, and for a moment, I feel as if we are one and the same; I’m part of the land. Something slimy bumps against my palm with a loud
ribbet
. The frog looks about with big eyes, as if shocked to discover that he is no longer a rock.

Ann grimaces. “I’d hoped for a prince.”

“You could always kiss him,” I offer, and Fee laughs.

Ann pulls up a daisy and plucks its petals one by one. “If you hold all the power, Gemma, what does that mean for us?”

Felicity stops laughing. “We’ll have none of our own.”

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“Once we make an alliance with the other tribes in the realms and join hands, we’ll share the magic—”

“Yes, but that could take months,” Felicity argues. “What about now?”

Ann cradles the mangled daisy in her lap. She won’t even look at me. A moment ago I was overjoyed.

Now I feel terribly guilty that I have this power and my friends do not.

“If I am the Temple with all its magic,” I say, haltingly, “then I should be able to give some to you as the Temple has always given it to us.”

“I want to try,” Felicity says. She puts a hand to my arm. Her craving warms the skin beneath my sleeve, and I want to shake it off. For if I give it to her, will I be left with less? Will she have more?

“Gemma?” Felicity says. Her eyes are so very hopeful, and I’m a rotten friend for thinking of denying her.

“Give me your hands,” I say. Within seconds, we are joined. There’s a sharp pull, almost an exquisite pain. It’s as if we’re the same person for a moment. I can hear echoes of her wishes inside my head.

Freedom. Power. Pippa. Pippa is the strongest wish, and I feel Fee’s ache for our missing friend like a deep wound. We break apart, and I have to steady myself against a tree for a second.

Fee sports a huge grin. “I feel it. I feel it!”

As I watch, a shimmering breastplate appears over her nightclothes. Her hair hangs long and free.

Strapped to her arm is a crossbow. On the other is a falcon. “Oh, if those dowagers could see me now!”

She adopts an imperious tone. “I’m afraid, Lady Ramsbottom, that if you should sneer at me once more, I shall have to allow my falcon to eat you.”

Ann looks at me hopefully.

“Here, give me your hands,” I say.

A moment later, Ann holds her arms out in front of her as if she can’t believe the miracle of her own skin. Tears stream down her face.

“I feel alive again,” she says, laughing through them. “I was so dead inside, but now…Oh, don’t you feel it?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say, thrilled. “Yes!”

Ann gives herself a medieval gown of spun gold. She looks the part of a princess in a fairy tale.

“Ann, you’re beautiful!” I call. I never want this night to end.

Felicity lets the falcon go. It soars higher and higher, making daring loops. It is free, and even the sky cannot stop it.

The river announces the arrival of something new. A great ship creaks upon the water. Along the bow is a massive fearsome creature with a green face, yellow eyes, and a head full of hissing snakes. The gorgon! I run to greet her, waving wildly.

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“Gorgon!” I call. “Gorgon, it is I, Gemma! We’ve returned!”

“Greetings, Most High,” she answers in her slithery, whisper-thick voice. Her eyes register neither surprise nor happiness. She nestles into the grassy shore and lowers her plank, allowing me to clamber on board. The ship’s planks are a seaworn gray. Along the sides hang nets of silver and a tangle of ropes. The boat is large but dingy. Centuries ago, the once-proud warrior was joined to this ship as punishment for her part in a rebellion against the Order. She is free to leave it now, but she hasn’t yet.

“We had expected you sooner.”

“I’ve not been able to enter the realms since I saw you last. I feared I’d never return. But we’re here now, and oh, Gorgon, you’re well? Of course you’re well!” I’m overcome with happiness, for the magic has returned to me. I feel it setting my blood aflame. Yes, we’ve come back to the realms at last. We’ve come home.

I venture onto the bow, taking a perch very near Gorgon’s giant green face. The snakes about her head slither back and forth, watching me, but they make no move to strike.

Gorgon’s eyes narrow as she looks out to the horizon. “The realms have been strangely quiet these days. I’ve heard nothing from the Winterlands creatures.”

“I should think that is good news.”

“I wonder…,” Gorgon murmurs.

“And what of Pippa?” I ask, out of Fee and Ann’s earshot. “Have you seen her anywhere?”

“No,” Gorgon answers, and I don’t know if I am relieved to hear it—or afraid. “I am ill at ease, Most High. I’ve not passed so many days without a single sign from those creatures.”

The air is scented with blossoms. The river sings pleasantly, as always. The magic sparks in my veins with such sweet ferocity that it is impossible to imagine that anything shall ever be amiss again.

“Perhaps they’ve gone,” I say. “Or crossed over at last.”

The snakes rise and coil atop Gorgon’s massive head, their pink tongues snapping into and out of their small cruel mouths. “I’ve seen no souls crossing the river.”

“That doesn’t mean they didn’t go. And it’s quite possible none needed assistance.”

“Perhaps,” Gorgon hisses, but the worry does not leave her face. “There are other matters at hand.

Philon is asking after you. The forest folk have not forgotten your promise to form an alliance with them, to join hands at the Temple and share the magic. Shall I take you to them now?”

I’ve not been in the realms a half hour, and already I am burdened with obligations. “I think…” I look over at my friends scooping up handfuls of flowers and hurling them into the sky, where they fall in flakes of silver. “Not just yet.”

Gorgon’s yellow eyes stare through me. “You do not wish to part with the magic?”

I hop down and gaze at my reflection in the pleasant surface of the river. It stares back at me, waiting.

Even it has expectations, it would seem. “Gorgon, I thought I’d lost everything. I’ve only just returned. I

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need to explore the realms and the magic, to sort out the best course,” I say slowly, thinking out loud.

“And I’ve need of it in my world, too. I should like to help my friends, to change our lives while we can.”

“I see,” Gorgon says, and I cannot read her feelings about the matter. The giant beast lowers her voice to a soft growl. “There are other concerns, Most High.”

“What do you mean?”

“No person has ever held all the power. There must be a balance between chaos and order, dark and light. With the Temple magic bound to you, the realms are no longer in balance. The power could change you…and you could change the magic.”

My happiness is evaporating. I drop a small pebble into the river. Ripples move across my reflection, distorting my face till I no longer recognize it. “But if I hold the power, there is no magic for anyone to take,” I say, thinking aloud again as the idea forms in my mind. “The realms might be safe at last.