The Unmaking (27 page)

“Am I going mad?” she asked unhappily.

“Far from it, your Majesty.” The apparition in the mirror stroked her wild hair but Gautelen could not feel the touch. “Everything is about to come out right. Now promise me you’ll never say such a thing to yourself again!”

Gautelen was baffled but not particularly afraid. What did she have to fear?

“I promise,” she said.

“Good girl. You’re young and you’ve led a sheltered life,” said the apparition. “When it comes to hate, you are terribly inexperienced. So take it from one who has been at this game a great deal longer than you – self-hatred is a fool’s capitulation. Revenge is the only relief.”

The apparition stepped out of the mirror onto the hillside, a flesh-and-blood woman, and Gautelen knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that her closed and dreary world was about to be blasted wide open. She spent her days surrounded by beauty that did not touch her, but this woman’s beauty made her ache with unshed tears, revived the near-dead memory of joy. Perhaps it was because she was powerful and free and Gautelen was not. Or perhaps it was because she brought with her a rush of hope Gautelen had not felt since before her wedding day.

“I was Queen of the Faeries too, once upon a time,” said the woman with a knowing smile. Then Gautelen understood whom it was that stood before her.

“You are the Xia Sorceress,” said Gautelen in a whisper. “That was your storm I sent.”

“And it was magnificent. I thank you,” said Nia. “The storm spoke to me, Gautelen. It told me that you and I were meant to help each other. How do you like the Realm of the Faeries, your Majesty?”

Gautelen did not reply. Her heart was racing, her mouth suddenly dry. She had heard many terrible stories about this Sorceress, who had terrorized Tian Xia for three hundred years before being banished by the Triumvira. It was widely known that the Sorceress was barred forever from Tian Xia by the most terrible Magic and that the Mancers had imprisoned her in their world with the most powerful barriers. Yet here she was. It could not be Illusion or trickery. She was too real. Gautelen knew she should be afraid, but what she felt was elated. She had endured this imprisonment for a year, and every word the Sorceress spoke was a promise of freedom. Gautelen would gladly have followed her to the end of the worlds.

“I know how you feel, little one,” said Nia, taking Gautelen’s chin in her hands. Gautelen stared into the Sorceress’s eyes, brilliant green flickering with gold light. “I know
exactly
how you feel.”

And then Gautelen could hold her tongue no longer. “I hate him,” she declared vehemently, tears springing to her eyes. “I want him to die!”

“That’s right,
him
you hate,” Nia laughed. “I’m afraid he cannot
die
, dearest, but he will suffer, I promise you that.”

“You hate him too,” Gautelen whispered.

“Yes,” said Nia, as tenderly as if she was confessing love. “I am going to destroy him, and then you will be free. But I cannot fight all the Faeries if they choose to stand by their king. I must ensure that they do not. Will you help me?”

“I’ll do anything you ask,” said Gautelen fiercely. “Anything.”

“Good girl. We will help each other.” Nia held out a hand to her. Gautelen dropped to her knees before the Sorceress and kissed the hand rapturously.

“Now,” said Nia, stroking her cheek, “let’s fix your hair. You look a fright.”

~~~

Rumours abounded among trolls, centaurs and other mountain-dwellers about the mysterious new creature spotted in the skies of Tian Xia, a roaring, flying thing with giant eyes. Quite unaware of the confusion they were causing, Ander, Nell, Charlie and Jalo flew southeast in the helicopter, over the mountains and the slate-grey cliffs of Batt, which formed a towering, ragged cleft along the northernmost edge of the Dead Marsh. Jalo’s myrkestra was waiting for them by the ruins of Swarn’s house.

Nell and Ander had arrived the first time when the slaughter was still fresh. Now the stench of dead dragons was overpowering. Jalo had to work an Illusion so that they smelled only lilies in order for them to be able to get out of the helicopter. Even spared the smell, it was a terrible sight to see.

“She’s completely insane,” said Charlie hoarsely, looking around at the miles of broken dragon bodies. “Why would she do this?”

The young dragon lay motionless by the still-burning house and, when she saw it, Nell was afraid that they were too late. But as she approached its golden eyes flicked in her direction and a weak puff of smoke came from its nostrils.

“We need something that will catch fire easily,” said Nell. “Like dry bracken.”

“I have a fire stick,” said Jalo, taking out a slender black rod that he kept next to his sword.

“What is that?”

“It feeds the flame without burning down,” he said. “It’s a very useful item. It can be used for a fire that will never go out or a torch.”

“Good. We just need to get the dragon to breathe on it, aye. Can you talk to dragons?”

“Not these dragons,” said the Faery.

“Lah, give me the gourd,” said Nell, and he handed it to her. “Blood will be easy to get. He’s covered in wounds.”

The dragon did not even lift his head as Nell went to examine his torn wing. The blood there was congealed, no longer running freely. Deep black pits full of green fire had formed in his side and on his back.

“We have to cut him,” said Nell, a lump coming to her throat.

“You should not be so close,” said Jalo, drawing his sword and joining her. “Remember how easily you die. Let me do this.”

Charlie and Ander hung back together, watching.

“She’s quite a girl, aye,” said Ander, rubbing his stubbled chin ruefully. “She’s just a kid, but somehow...lah, there’s no telling her what to do, is there?”

“No, I spose not,” said Charlie gloomily. “Do you think he’s handsome?”

“What? Who?” asked Ander. “The Faery?”

“Yes,” said Charlie. “I mean, I spec he is, obviously. He’s a Faery.”

Ander gave Charlie an incredulous look. “Praps...I’m no judge, but I’d say so...” he faltered.

“Nary mind,” said Charlie crossly.

Jalo cut into the dragon’s wound with his sword. The dragon shuddered but did not otherwise protest. Nell quickly unstopped the gourd and caught the bright red running blood with it. Obtaining the flame was more difficult. The dragon was so weak that he could not be angered to fight, and none of them had the heart to torment him.

“We need to show him what we’re doing,” decided Nell. She approached the dragon’s head, which made Jalo nearly apoplectic with anxiety for her. She placed her hand on the rough, dry scales between its eyes and looked into them.

“We’re trying to help you, aye,” she said softly.

“He doesn’t understand you,” said the Faery. “Get
back.
He could still be dangerous.”

“He can understand this,” said Nell, stroking the dragon between his eyes and looking at him intently. “Become a dragon, Charlie, and breath fire on the stick.”

Charlie obeyed, becoming a dragon roughly the same size as the injured one. Jalo held up the fire stick and Charlie breathed a thread of flame onto it. Immediately it flared. The hurt dragon watched with its golden eyes, not moving any other part of itself. Nell pointed to the fire on the stick and then held up the gourd. She stroked the dragon between the eyes again. Jalo quenched the fire stick with a word and she held it towards the hurt dragon. The dragon stared at it balefully.

“Please,” Nell entreated the dragon. “
Please
try. I know you’re in pain, but
please
try.”

They repeated the same demonstration a number of times, to no avail.

“He’s too badly hurt,” Charlie concluded. “We’re going to have to frighten him, and even then I’m not sure he’s got the strength to fight back. What should I turn into? What are dragons afraid of? Bigger dragons?”

Nell’s eyes filled with tears. She stroked the dragon’s nose. “We cannay,” she said. “He’s been through too much already.”

“Lah, do you want to help him or not?” asked Charlie.

“If you want my opinion, this thing’s done for,” said Ander, who had kept back and watched in silence until now. “Kindest thing you can do now is cut its head off with that sword.”

“No!” shouted Nell. She turned towards the dragon desperately. “Nobody’s going to cut your head off! I promise!”

The dragon lifted its head an inch or two off the ground and opened its jaws. All that came out was smoke.

“Try again,” Nell said encouragingly.

The dragon looked at her forlornly, then belched forth a tiny ball of red fire that the Faery skillfully caught as the flame rolled out over its tongue. The fire stick flared and Nell unstopped the gourd again. Jalo plunged the fire stick into the mix and the potion burst out of the gourd in silver swirls. Hurriedly, Jalo spoke the words the witch had taught him and the bright swirls fluttered over the dragon, dousing the green fires and settling into his wounds. The dragon’s eyes closed.

The spell took much of the day. The dragon remained very still as the potion melted into light that moved like little eddying pools in his wounds. Jalo and Nell passed the time by comparing passages of Faery poetry and human poetry.

“They make you memorize all that stuff at that fancy school?” Ander asked, impressed by the long recitations Nell was capable of.

“We dinnay
have
to memorize them,” said Nell, “but I have a good memory, and some of these I wrote papers on, so I’ve read them over and over. Lah, this one’s old but it’s a classic, aye. It’s by Lapto, about the creation of Di Shang.”

She recited it in full and the others listened.

Ander shook his head. “I never read much poetry. I spec I’ve been missing out.”

“But human poetry seems so often to amount to mere stories in verse,” said Jalo. “Surely the point of poetry is that it is...like
music
made of words. Listen, here is another poem by Shira.”

“All you’ve done is poems by Shira,” complained Charlie.

“Well, yes, she is our greatest poet. Listen carefully and you will hear how the rhythm builds a sensory impression of water.”

“What is the poem called?” Nell interrupted.

“We don’t title our poems,” said Jalo a little primly. “The subject ought to be self-evident. As in this case. You could not possibly think the poem to be anything but water in words. To name it would be superfluous.”

He recited, and the other three listened in awe. His words swept away the terrible surroundings. They could feel the cool ripple, the silken depths. It was like having one’s mind immersed in a shining pool. When he had finished, none of them spoke for a while, not wanting to shake the feeling the poem had left them with.

“It’s very different from human poetry, aye,” Nell conceded at last. “Will you teach it to me?”

Jalo looked pleased and was about to reply when the little dragon lifted its head and rose to its feet. Light poured off it in rivulets and streams. It stretched its wings out, raised its head, and wailed. It was a cry of such wrenching grief that they were all frozen where they stood for a moment. Then the dragon lowered its head and looked at Nell.

“It worked!” she cried.

Without thinking she ran to it and placed her hands on its bright, scaled face. The dragon kept its eyes steady on her and there was something like kindness in its gaze.

“Now let’s see if it will lead us to Swarn,” said Nell.

~~~

The fuel reserves were getting low, so they agreed to leave the helicopter in the Dead Marsh. The Faery rode his myrkestra, Charlie flew as a gryphon with an anxious Ander clinging to his back, and Nell, feeling triumphant, rode the dragon. She was sure Eliza would be very impressed when she heard how Nell had gotten Charlie to the healing cave, enlisted the Faery’s help and saved the dragon. She imagined over and over again how she would tell the tale. “At first, the Faery seemed more inclined to kill us then help us, but it wasnay too hard to win him over. I just explained how essentially we were all on the same side...”

The dragon led them west, towards the Sea of Tian Xia, following the descent of the sun. They stopped for a couple of hours in the foothills where trolls lived and the myrkestra and Charlie hunted rabbits, which they cooked over a fire and shared. Jalo kept watch while the others slept all too briefly. Before it was light he woke them again to continue the journey. The dragon seemed impatient to carry on, certain of its destination. Beyond the land of the Giants the earth was webbed with thousands upon thousands of glittering rivers. Long graceful boats plied the rivers but Nell could not make out what kind of beings guided the boats. They passed over the rivers, which eventually merged into several large rivers, over dramatic waterfalls and twisted rock formations, until they reached a thick forest of black trees. Over this was the Sea of Tian Xia, clear as glass.

They veered north and were flying along miles of rocky coastline when a thick purplish fog closed about them, eclipsing everything, sound as well as sight. Nell could not see her own hands clutching the spiked neck of the dragon, nor could she hear the wings of the dragon beating the air anymore. She called out to the others but her voice was swallowed by the fog. The dragon cried out then and though its plaintive cry was also muted it carried a little further. Nell assumed at first that the dragon’s cry was to help the others follow what they could not see. It continued to cry out for a long time, until there came a returning cry, a shrill and terrible sound from somewhere ahead of them. The fog parted like curtains, revealing the grey, ridged sea below and the wooded coast. A dragon twice the size of the one Nell rode was circling above a windy bluff, screaming. A white-haired figure stood on the bluff holding a glittering spear.