Текст книги "Hero"
Автор книги: Alethea Kontis
Соавторы: Alethea Kontis
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
A bright red glow filled the cave. Saturday raised her head. It was not the bars emitting the light, but the pile of Cwyn’s ashes. From those ashes rose the silhouette of a young woman. As the shadow solidified into radiant flesh, the beautiful woman grew old and round. “Well done, child,” was all she said before she vanished completely in a puff of black smoke.
Two-faced witch. Saturday was not sorry to see her go. She only lamented that Vasilisa had not freed her from the cage of swords first.
Alone again, Saturday blinked into the quiet darkness. If the witch’s geis on Vasilisa had broken with her death, then why hadn’t the cage fallen to pieces? Saturday leaned back and kicked her boot against the bars. They didn’t budge. She tried again, the force of the blow resonating in her bones. She might as well have been kicking the wall of the cave. Carefully, she reached out and felt along the bars with her fingers.
The blades of the swords were no longer sharp. The heat of the fire she’d summoned had melted the weapons together, solidifying the bonds the demon had created with her magic. Grasping the bars with both hands, she tried to lift the cage, but its weight was beyond her strength. Stubbornly she tried again. And again.
Sweating with the effort now, Saturday fell back into the middle of the cage. She had defeated the lorelei, and in doing so had imprisoned herself even further.
Beneath her, the ground rumbled. Saturday had felt this sort of tremor before, on the day she’d broken the earth and called the ocean. The rumble came again.
As predicted, the mountain was waking up, and the dragon with it. And if she had truly fulfilled her destiny, then she could die now and would, here in this cage of her own making at the Top of the World.
“NO!” The screech Saturday let loose would have made the witch proud. She railed at the bars. She pulled and lifted and kicked and strained. She made up nonsense rhymes and cried them into the darkness, one after another, but the magic in the walls did not answer her. She screamed at the ceiling in fear and frustration, her shrieks turning to hysterical laughter at her predicament.
“I thought you’d killed the lorelei, but I could swear I still hear her.”
The voice that split the darkness was not Peregrine’s. “Betwixt?”
“To the rescue,” said the chimera. “Though to be fair, you rescued me first.”
In the blackness Saturday could not see what new form Betwixt had taken, but the sound of the bars creaking apart was a blessing in her ears. She stood to face the noise, and was subsequently embraced by a pair of very large and very fuzzy arms.
“My hero,” Saturday said into the musky fur of the chimera’s shoulder.
“My hero.” Betwixt returned the greeting. The mountain shivered and rocked. “We need to get out of here.”
“Do you have a light?”
“There’s no time,” said Betwixt.
“I’m naked,” said Saturday. “And unlike you, I can’t see in the dark.”
“Ah.” Saturday stood still while Betwixt rummaged in the dark. A bundle of cloth hit her in the midsection. “Put those on. I’ll see to a light.”
One of the items Betwixt had tossed her was a shirt. She quickly put it on. The other was a skirt, but she could not tell the top from the bottom. Eventually, she discovered a drawstring in the thing and pulled it tightly around her waist. Though she was covered in yards of cloth, she still felt naked, but there was little time to care. She heard flint strike steel and waited. And waited. Her ruined ear throbbed. She pushed her muddy hair over the ragged lump of flesh. The mountain bucked and chuckled at her predicament, tickling the dust between her toes.
She heard the unmistakable crack of a fingerstone before it plummeted to the floor behind her. It was nothing like the crack of the portal to the demon world the witch had almost made. Those inhuman cries would haunt her for a long time.
A spark burst into life, and within moments Saturday could see the torch. It was held by a hulking, ugly minotaur. Dark fur bristled over his wide chest and bare human feet. Dark horns sprouted from either side of his head. His well-muscled arms and legs radiated pure brute strength.
He was the most beautiful thing Saturday had ever seen.
Betwixt handed her the torch. “Let’s go.”
“Is Peregrine with you? Is he safe?”
“He’s fine. I’ll take you to him. But we must hurry.”
Saturday followed the chimera’s lead through the caves. Around them, boulders trembled and fingerstones fell. The blasted skirt continued to tangle in her legs, catch on protrusions, and trip her up. When the floor became too steep for her to climb and hold the torch and her skirt at once, Betwixt grabbed the back of her shirt and hauled her up the rest of the way.
Saturday’s torchlight fell on the walls of the small cave they had entered. “These rocks are unfamiliar to me.”
“Peregrine would not have brought you to this place. But this is the faster path. And I thought you should see this before it crumbles into legend.”
On every wall there was a picture of her. In shadows and colors Peregrine had captured her wide smile and bright eyes. There were axes and swords and trees and her, over and over again. “Peregrine did all this?”
“Yes.”
“When did he have the time?” As the words left her mouth, Saturday felt a fool for asking.
“He has been dreaming of you his whole life,” said Betwixt.
“He told me as much, but I never . . . I guess I never realized what that meant.”
“I thought you should know.”
Saturday touched the closest cave painting, wondering how it felt to love someone so completely, for so long. The sheer grandeur of his passion made her feel small. She wasn’t sure her own meager feelings would ever measure up to this obsession.
“Come,” said Betwixt, and in a heartbeat he had morphed into a lizard with batwings. Saturday followed him through a gap where the ceiling dipped low, tossing her torch to the other side before crawling under to retrieve it. Betwixt had changed back into the minotaur; he held the torch aloft to light her passage.
This chamber’s walls held no paintings, only hash marks. “Peregrine began marking his days here. Eventually he gave up.”
Betwixt blew softly on the torch, and the flame rose. With it, Saturday could see more marks, so many that they completely blackened the calcite, as far up as a human hand could climb or reach.
“How long has he been here?”
“Too long,” said Betwixt. He blew on the torch again, this time extinguishing it completely. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Saturday saw a glow coming from a hole in the space before them.
“It is a slide to the witch’s lair,” said Betwixt. “I will go first, so I can catch you when you fall.”
A shadow moved across the hole, and Saturday heard Betwixt’s mass barrel down it. She counted slowly to five, giving him a moment to land. The mountain groaned, and Saturday felt a blast of air from the aperture behind her as the back half of the cave collapsed.
She blew a kiss to the dark walls around her, crossed her arms over her chest, and jumped.
16
Wings of Ice and Stone
PEREGRINE HAD just crossed the moat outside the witch’s lair when a minotaur dropped from the sky. The beast landed well, but hard, and then turned his snout back up to the ceiling as if he were waiting for something. The mountain groaned.
“Betwixt! Is that you?”
“Yes, my friend.” The chimera’s gravelly voice came from deep inside his hefty bull chest.
“What about Saturday?” Peregrine lost his footing and fell backwards into the moat. The water was hot. The Earthfire was rising up the mountain to meet them.
“Close behind me,” said Betwixt. “The witch is dead.”
Peregrine considered the mountain’s revolt. “So we are free now? Truly free?”
“As free as any band of misfits trapped on top of the highest mountain in the world as it begins to crumble.”
A cascade of pebbles and dust fell from the hole onto the minotaur’s outstretched arms. He roared mightily. The mountain roared and shook in answer. Another shower of rocks fell and Saturday came immediately after. Betwixt caught the large bundle of blond hair and rags easily in his brawny arms.
Saturday smiled at the minotaur. “No one’s been able to catch me like that since I was a girl.”
“You still are a girl,” said Betwixt.
“We must go,” said Peregrine.
Betwixt set Saturday down gently. Peregrine let her gain her footing before catching her up into an embrace of his own. “You did it.”
“Yes. I did.”
Peregrine tried to examine her face, but her hair was a wet mess again, caked with either red dirt . . . or dried blood. “Are you all right?”
He moved to cup her head in his hands, but she leaned in and kissed him instead. This was no kiss of exuberance or companionship; it was one of relief and hope. In the brief moment that she held him, he let himself hope as well.
“Any sign of the dragon?” she asked.
“Not yet.” Peregrine caught her arm as she tripped over the uneven floor. She was wearing one of his old kitchen skirts. “You really are a girl!”
Saturday rolled her eyes. “It was either this, or stay naked.”
Peregrine raised his eyebrows.
Saturday punched him in the shoulder. “I could still take lessons from you.”
“You never know,” said Peregrine. “One day you may need them.”
They ran back into the witch’s lair and stopped at the base of the cave-in. Saturday sifted through the ash and rubble to find her savaged belt and scabbard. “Where’s my sword?”
He could put off her disappointment no longer. Peregrine pulled the transformed ring from his skirt pocket and placed it in Saturday’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
There was no singing in the air as she touched it—it simply stayed the ring that it was. Saturday stared into her palm, snapping her fingers into a fist around it when she felt the mountain buck and lost her footing again. “You have got to be kidding me.” She closed her eyes and held her closed fist to the cold sky. “Change, damn you! I command it!”
The incredible magic she’d been able to perform now abandoned her. Try as she might, the ring would not transform. Their only decent weapon was the runesword at Peregrine’s waist. “Take this,” he said.
Saturday stopped him. “There’s no time. We need to go.” She raised her arm as if to throw the ring across the cavern. “Stupid, useless magical—”
Peregrine caught her hand. “Never lose hope. The gods have ways of returning such items to their owners.”
“The gods also have ways of forcing unwilling humans into destinies,” she said. “Here. You take it. I’ll just lose it.” With a nod, Peregrine dipped his head to remove the chain that held his father’s wedding band. Saturday recovered a dagger from the ground near where her sliced swordbelt lay. She also found the wooden hairbrush Peregrine had given her. He expected her to toss the useless item away, but instead, she tucked it in the pocket of her skirt. The gesture warmed him.
Meanwhile, the rest of the cave began to warm by other means. Molten Earthfire poured through the hole in the ceiling from which Saturday had dropped, turning the moat to steam as it slid across the floor.
Peregrine scrambled higher on the pile of rock and tilted his head back at the night sky. Pillows of steam venting from the mountain blotted out the stars. The hole in the ceiling had widened as the mountain shuddered. “We need a rope,” he called down to his friends.
“I need wings,” Saturday said.
“I can give you those,” said Betwixt. The air crackled with magic and a song much like the one Peregrine had heard when Saturday’s sword had changed in his hands. Betwixt was swallowed inside a ball of golden light.
Peregrine caught her by the neck and kissed her hard. “In case we never get this chance again.”
She kissed him back. “We will. We have to.”
“Because you’re going to save us.”
Saturday smiled. “We’re going to save each other.”
Betwixt whinnied. The chimera stood proudly before them, a great stallion of white and gray and silver like a well-muscled cloud on a summer’s day. From his haunches unfurled wings, each almost as large again as he was from tip to tail. The feathers shimmered in the hot air like new-fallen snow and hope.
“Pegasus! Brilliant!” Peregrine whooped at his friend. He scrambled down from their perch, dragging Saturday after him.
“I’m a woodcutter,” she said. “I’m no good on a horse.”
“I’m the son of an earl,” he shot back. “I was born on one. Hop on.”
“I’m wearing a skirt.”
Peregrine reached down between her feet and pulled the back hem of her skirt forward and up, tucking it securely in the front of her waistband. “Voilà, pantaloons. Now, up!” He knelt, and she used his leg to launch herself onto Betwixt’s back.
Peregrine rested one hand on Betwixt’s back and vaulted himself up after her. “Let’s fly!” he announced.
“Wait!” yelled Saturday.
The mountain rumbled and roared again. More bits of the ceiling crumbled down into the lair. Earthfire crept slowly across the floor. A few fist-sized rocks rolled under Betwixt’s hooves and Peregrine worried about his friend breaking a leg. One of the rocks leapt onto Peregrine’s skirt and crawled into his lap. It shook off the dust to reveal the ginger fur beneath.
“A brownie?”
“Just let it come,” said Saturday.
There was little time to argue over the wisdom of saving a rodent. Peregrine urged the notch-eared brownie into his pocket and signaled to Betwixt that they were ready.
The pegasus broke into a solid gallop across the lair and up the pile of fallen rubble. Peregrine worried about their speed, the weight of them on the chimera’s back, and the sword at his side banging into Saturday’s leg. Then Saturday wrapped her arms around his waist, Betwixt spread his wings, and Peregrine worried about nothing at all.
Hot steam and the cold night stung his cheeks; he opened his mouth and breathed them in together. They tasted like freedom. Betwixt’s wing beats came slow and even, each one carrying them farther and farther away from the prison that had been their home.
Peregrine turned to look back at the mountain. It looked so peaceful at this distance, like a cake dusted with sugar on a midnight-velvet table. The vents of steam might have been birthday candles, just blown out. Ice crystals twinkled on the peak like the stars above would have, had they not been hidden beneath row upon row of brilliant ice clouds that shone down upon them, all the colors of the rainbow.
“The Northern Lights!” Peregrine called to Saturday, and she followed his pointing finger up to the heavens. He took in their beauty, closed his eyes, and memorized the view. When he opened them back up he saw Saturday smiling at him with those bright eyes he had loved for so long. He leaned into her slightly, hoping to steal one more kiss without throwing Betwixt off balance.
Behind them, the mountain erupted.
Earthfire spilled down the mountainside. Shards of ice flew past them, biting into their legs and Betwixt’s flanks. Despite the danger, the chimera spread his wings wide and rode the drafts of air, refusing to let them force him to the ground. They spun and spun, jumping from one draft to another until Betwixt found suitable purchase.
Peregrine’s stomach rolled over. Saturday’s arms tightened around his chest. Peregrine folded his arms on top of hers and curled into the wind, squeezing his legs against Betwixt and praying for them to stay balanced and airborne. He wished for a saddle, and then chuckled at the idea of wasting a wish on something so ridiculous.
They spun around again, and Peregrine watched as the tip of the mountain was blown high into the air. As if in slow motion, the giant crystal pyramid hovered before splintering into a million pieces. Those splinters didn’t fly out; instead, the pyramid expanded, growing wider and wider before it threw its head back and roared.
The dragon awoke from its sleeping death and took to the skies.
In his youth, Peregrine had heard stories about Lord Death and his angels with their wings of feathers and fire. This Death rode the chaotic currents on wings of ice and stone. The beast was alive, and it was not happy.
Saturday’s arms locked around Peregrine. Had he been able to manage it he would have told her not to look, not to turn her head and risk the dragonfear, but what mortal could resist gazing upon such a legend of dangerous beauty? The beast was magnificent; having slumbered so long inside the mountain, it was now truly a part of it. Its white horn and beak stood out prominently, but they were decorated with more small peaks where there should have been none, all across the dragon’s face and wing coverts. Its claws and primaries looked to be carved of pure, clear crystal, as did its eyes, though they burned red with rage and flame.
The dragon opened its mouth again. The belly of the beast rumbled like the mountain. Earthfire shot from its mouth and spewed across the distance in their direction. The flame glowed pink through the vanes of Betwixt’s translucent wings, outlining the quills and revealing just how little kept them all from tumbling to their deaths. Peregrine felt the heat of the blast on his face. Betwixt caught the updraft and let it carry them farther away from the mountain.
The chimera’s wing beats came faster. The dragon screeched after its prey. In his pocket, Peregrine felt the brownie’s claws against his skin as they seized up in fear. The weight of the rodent moved up his leg; Peregrine thought it might fall out of his pocket, but only a whiskered nose and two very pointed teeth poked through to witness the majesty of their hunter.
His hands twisted deeply into Betwixt’s soft mane, Peregrine turned to look back again. The dragon’s wings scooped the air and thrust it back, propelling it forward at a speed that cut the distance between them in half. This time, the dragonfear took him. His lungs turned to ice and his breath left him. The dragon was close, so close that Peregrine could make out the rows of its hungry teeth. The next fiery breath would consume them. His eyes wide, Peregrine gasped for air that would not come.
Saturday’s face moved in to interrupt his view of the dragon. Peregrine blinked. She planted a quick kiss on his lips that melted the dragonfear that gripped him, and he shuddered as he drew in a cold, misty lungful of life. Her eyes twinkled. They were about to die. Why was she smiling?
Between them, she held up her dagger, seized a handful of his long hair, and sawed it off. She muttered something into the dark bundle and threw it up into the air above her head, releasing it directly into the dragon’s path. The blue-green band on her wrist sparkled like her bright eyes. Peregrine watched as the hair floated peacefully on the wind, waiting. When the dragon was but a breath away, the strands turned into crystalwings. The mad black and blue flock of them flew into the face of the beast, attacking and confusing it. Peregrine thought he could smell blood on the currents as the sharp crystalwings bit into the dragon’s thick skin.
“DIVE!” Saturday yelled to Betwixt. Peregrine leaned forward and pressed his face into Betwixt’s mane, summoning the strength to hold on. The pegasus folded his wings, bent his head forward, and they plummeted through the atmosphere.
Peregrine could feel Saturday’s scream of excitement into his back. He cried out too, letting loose into the freezing night air all the frustration he’d been holding inside himself for so many years. The freedom was intoxicating.
Now that they were low enough, Betwixt played hide-and-seek through the clouds as they flew farther south, descending all the time over the peaks and valleys of pure white snow. The dragon fell back but did not tire, trumpeting in triumph every time it spotted them again and regained pursuit.
They might make it. Dear gods in the heavens, they might actually survive this!
To his left, Peregrine saw the morning sun peek over the horizon. But as the fingers of dawn rose to greet them, they also revealed another peril: what Peregrine had thought were snowy plains below them were waves on a vast ocean, whitecapped, beautiful, and deadly.
Peregrine had seen hundreds of maps, and at no point did he remember the ocean rising to meet the mountains. Worse still, there were naught but wispy, rainbow-hued clouds to hide them from the dragon. Nor was there any place to land once Betwixt grew too tired to fly.
Saturday’s arm moved from around his waist once again; this time, she removed the wood-handled brush from her skirt pocket. She closed her eyes, as if saying a small prayer, and threw the brush behind them. It tumbled ungracefully through the air before being swallowed by the ocean.
This time, nothing happened.
Peregrine bowed into Betwixt’s mane again, shielding his raw cheeks from the continued onslaught of wind. Saturday curled into Peregrine as well, muttering something into his back. A prayer, an apology, a declaration of love, a curse—Lord Death would let him know which, but he bet on the latter.
A new roar echoed in his ears, but it was not the dragon. Colored lightning fell from the chaotic clouds around them to snap against the breaking waves. Betwixt ascended as the waves rose up to meet them. The valleys began revealing houses, fences, and trees. Faster and faster the ocean fled, and from that drying earth grew the forest.
As soon as Betwixt found a suitable stretch of solid ground, he landed. The chimera’s breaths came heavy and his straining muscles were hot beneath Peregrine’s hands. He folded his great wings and continued to gallop, dodging back and forth as massive oaks and evergreens shot up around them.
The dragon shrieked in frustration at the loss of its quarry. Peregrine heard the rumble and blast that came with its fire, but the wet, new wood of this forest blessedly caught no flame. Betwixt slowed under the cover of a copse of ash and chestnut, the monoliths’ leaves taking on autumn hues even as they budded and grew.
The dragon shrieked again, but this time it sounded farther away. Peregrine could no longer distinguish its wing beats. Betwixt stopped to let them dismount. Peregrine collapsed to the damp ground, for his legs did not have the strength to hold him. Saturday hugged the nearest tree trunk before sinking down to the forest floor beside him.
A lump in his skirt squeaked, and Saturday shook the fabric in an effort to free the frightened brownie. The rodent bit her fingertip before disappearing into the wood.
“Ungrateful scamp,” Peregrine called after it, but he had no strength for bluster.
“It’s only a scratch,” said Saturday.
“Shame,” said Peregrine. “Now you cannot tell the world you escaped a dragon unscathed.”
Saturday bowed her head so that the longer strands of her hair occluded her face. “I need to get to the abbey,” she said. “My mother will be waiting for me there.”
“Then we go to the abbey,” said Peregrine. His skin itched mightily. He scratched at his chin. Now that the witch was dead, Leila’s curse seemed to be running its course, slow bit by slow bit.
“Which abbey?” asked Betwixt.
“I . . . I don’t know. From our house it was north and east, on the plains between the mountains and the sea. My aunt is the abbess there.”
“What is your aunt’s name?” asked the pegasus.
“Six,” answered Saturday. “Or, rather, Rose Red.”
“Rose Abbey,” said Betwixt. “I know the place. When we’ve rested, we’ll make our way there.”
Saturday nodded and leaned back against the tree. Betwixt shook out his wings and grazed on a patch of newbirthed grass.
Peregrine lay back on the solid ground, dug his fingers into the soft dirt, and breathed in the sweet, fresh forest air. He knew that living to see the end of this day had consequences. For the moment, he simply wanted to enjoy his freedom.
