Текст книги "Alien god"

Автор книги: Ursa Dox

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Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

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CHAPTER FORTY-NINE Torrance

It really was like stepping through a door. As instantaneous as breathing. One second we were in Sionnach’s sunset-smeared sky, the next I was scrunching my eyes shut against brilliant sunlight. Delicious heat kissed over my skin. Summer. Wylfrael had said it wasn’t winter here.

The mask provided some small bit of shade for my eyes, which helped me to open them, up in the air, to get a look at this new world we’d come into – the Shadowlands.

Only it didn’t look anything like what a name like Shadowlands would imply.

It looked like a Mediterranean paradise.

From up here, I could see a wide, glittering expanse of turquoise sea lapping up against flawless white beaches rimmed with lush foliage and flowers. Behind the beaches rose golden-beige cliffs, and on top of the cliffs, baking in the glorious sun, sat a sprawling white structure. A palace of connected white domes and wide cylindrical towers, all arranged in a horseshoe shape, open towards the sea. As we got closer, the beauty of the place fully struck me. Gold and pink flowers bloomed along the white stone, climbing on emerald vines, and trees heavy with fragrant fruit rustled in the gentle sea breeze.

We descended towards the open centre of the horseshoe shape, landing in a courtyard rich with sunlight, stone, and more trees and flowers. When we landed, Wylf let me down to my feet. I tested my strength, wondering if going through the sky door had had any ill effect on me, but it didn’t seem so.

“OK, this is not what I was picturing when you said Shadowlands,” I whispered to Wylfrael. The sound of waves hitting the shore below the cliffs washed over me in delicious strokes, punctuated by the sound of what I thought might be some kind of seabird.

“It wasn’t always like this,” Wylf said. “Naturally, it’s a world with very little sunlight. Not much grows.”

“Not much grows?!” I gestured to the flowers and trees all around us.

“That’s Sceadulyr’s work,” Wylf said. “His mother is from the Shadowlands, but his father had power over stone, not light or shadow. Sceadulyr learned to manipulate light and darkness and has focused the sun on this part of the world so that, here, it is eternally summer. The rest of the planet is as it ever was. Dark and cold.”

“Whoa.” I knew the stone sky gods were immensely powerful, but I didn’t know how varied their strengths could be. “Is there day and night? Or is it always sunny here?”

“There is day and night,” Wylf confirmed. “Just no discernable change of season.”

I shook my head in wonder, already trying to come up with a hypothesis on how Sceadulyr accomplished such a thing. I squinted up at the sky, theorizing. There was still day and night, which meant the planet still rotated on some sort of axis. But perhaps Sceadulyr had been able to turn this part of the world into an equator of sorts by focusing sunlight, the way you might through a magnifying glass.

“So, it’s only this area, then?”

“Yes,” Wylf said. “But the Shadowlands world is not very populated, at least last I was here. The entire population has journeyed over the generations to come live in Sceadulyr’s sunlight. No one lives in the shadows anymore.” He smirked. “To the Sionnachans, I am a lord. To the Shadowlands people, Sceadulyr is a holy monarch. They worship him, bring him gifts, and beg him for blessings.”

“I mean, I can’t really blame them if he literally creates the warmth and sunlight that allows them to grow food and prosper,” I said. “He doesn’t sound like such a bad guy if he at least takes care of the people here.”

Wylf made a disgruntled sound in his throat.

“He is not to be trusted,” he said sharply. “Do not leave my side. Don’t even stop touching me. Hold tightly to my arm.”

I looped my arms around his and nodded.

Before I could get more information on Sceadulyr or his world, a familiar figure approached from the direction of the palace.

“Maerwynne,” Wylf grunted in greeting as he came to a stop before us.

Maerwynne’s double-crescent eyes took us in.

“You brought her,” he said, shock colouring his voice. “The gathering only allows...”

“Gods and their mates,” Wylf finished for him. “I know.”

Maerwynne’s long black tail flicked across the warm stone. He was dressed the same way as last time, in all white, loose clothing, only this time he wasn’t all bedraggled and wet from the snowstorm. While my last run-in with him hadn’t exactly made me like him, I had to acknowledge that he really was stunningly gorgeous in his own way. His long hair was sleek and perfectly straight, deep red turned to sparkling ruby under the sunlight, his wings and star map matching the warm colour and contrasting with the ultra-smooth black of his skin. And it wasn’t just his appearance that made me think he was beautiful. It was the entire way he held himself. There was a simple grace to his stance, to every move he made. A whisper-soft control that hinted at immense strength under stillness.

“I am surprised, but in some other ways, not surprised,” Maerwynne finally said. “You couldn’t wait to get rid of me when I came to see her. Even before you starburned, some instinct inside you knew she was yours.”

I frowned, wondering if this conversation was going to go the same way it had last time, as if I weren’t even there. But then Maerwynne turned his gaze to me. His attention was like a touch. Singular and probing. It wasn’t malevolent or demanding, or hungry the way Wylfrael’s so often was. But there was a deep and quiet intelligence there. He was studying me closely.

Time to put on my happy bride face.

I leaned into Wylf’s arm and smiled.

After a moment, a soft smile mirrored mine. It shocked me because it actually seemed quite genuine.

“Hello, Torrance. I am glad to see you here with Wylfrael. As we say on my homeworld of Vizhir when a couple completes their bonding ceremony, ‘may blood forever flow between you.’”

“Thank you,” I said, trying not to let my smile slip at how bizarrely violent the phrase sounded. I reminded myself that I couldn’t judge alien culture by my human rules, and maybe the flowing blood thing was metaphorical, anyway. Now that I wasn’t a terrified prisoner worried that I was going to get handed over to Maerwynne like nothing more than a sack of potatoes, I was starting to tentatively trust him. Wylfrael hadn’t warned me about him the way he had about Sceadulyr, and my husband obviously knew and respected Maerwynne well enough, otherwise Wylf never would have let him into the castle.

“You’ve obviously come alone,” Wylf said. There was a question lingering behind the statement.

“Yes. I am alone,” Maerwynne said, smile vanishing. He held up his hand. Where his star map should have been glowing, it was dark, the pinpricks looking like greyish scars. “Unfortunately, it has spread a little since we last spoke.”

“Whatever support you require, I freely offer it,” Wylf said firmly. It was a remarkable change from their last encounter when Wylf had seemed to only begrudgingly want to help Maerwynne. I guess he feels the same way I do. Now that he knows Maerwynne doesn’t want me, he’s more relaxed and happier to help.

Maerwynne’s words echoed in my head.

Even before you starburned, some instinct inside you knew she was yours.

“Everyone else is inside dancing,” Maerwynne said.

“Dancing?” I asked. I hadn’t known there would be dancing. I hadn’t really known what to expect, in all honesty. Maybe something like a board meeting.

“Come. I will show you,” Maerwynne replied.

The three of us crossed the sunlit courtyard towards the largest white dome at the centre of the curving building. This dome alone was massive – as big as a mansion. There was an arch at its base, the curving entrance completely overflowing with glorious flowers, similar in shape to something like roses from Earth, but larger, the petals huge and buttery soft. As we passed under the arch, a warm breeze rustled the blooms and petals floated down, as if to welcome us.

When we stepped fully into the dome, my jaw dropped.

The first thing I noticed was the space. The white stone of the domed wall was barely visible, every surface crawling with vines and more flowers. Trees circled the entire room, lush with fruit. The massive room reminded me more of a greenhouse than anything, especially because it was...

It was sunny in here.

Confused, I wrenched my head back to stare upwards. Yup, there was a solid white stone ceiling above. But though it should have been blocking the sunlight, somehow, it cast no shadow. The interior of this dome was as sun-drenched as the courtyard outside.

“How is this possible?” I murmured, awe-struck.

“I cannot control light or shadow. I know little of how Sceadulyr does what he does,” Wylfrael replied. I wondered if that was part of the reason Wylf didn’t trust him – because he didn’t fully understand this Shadowlands god’s power. As I stared upward at solid stone while my face was simultaneously warmed by sunshine, I became aware of music filtering through the air and noticed almost right beside us near the arch we’d come through was a group of aliens. I swallowed, trying not to openly gape.

“Shadowlands musicians,” Maerwynne informed me.

So, these weren’t stone sky gods, then, but the mortals of this planet. They were humanoid in shape with pale grey skin that had an almost aquatic look to it – like a shark’s hide. Their noses were flat and slitted like a shark’s, too, their eyes hidden behind a fringe of dark blue feathers that hung down over the top half of their faces and ran down the backs of their necks, disappearing into beige robes.

I was standing face to face with a brand-new alien species. That was incredible enough, but even more stunning was the musical instruments they played. There were three musicians, each standing behind a large instrument that looked like a harp. Their four-fingered hands plucked deftly over... not exactly strings. More like dark wobbly waves that didn’t look entirely solid. That’s what I couldn’t figure out – what the hell the harps were made of.

“It’s shadow magic,” Wylf said, as if sensing my confusion. “Sceadulyr made them.”

“Hold on. Are you telling me he made these instruments out of shadow?”

That made no sense. Shadow wasn’t a thing in and of itself, it was merely a lack of light. An absence.

But even though my human science brain rebelled against what Wylf had just told me, I couldn’t come up with any other explanation of why the strings weren’t strings but more like... well, shadows. And the music sounded like nothing I’d ever heard. Every note prismatic, as if comprised of a thousand different waves of sound.

“Come. We must meet the other gods,” Wylf said.

“Right,” I said, nodding and trying to refocus. If I was that caught up in this trio of Shadowlands people, I wasn’t exactly sure how I was going to stay standing among all the foreign gods. I clutched Wylf’s arm for support as we walked through fruit trees and flowers into the centre of the dome.

I was glad I was holding onto him. Otherwise, there was a very good chance I could have toppled over at what I saw.

Stone sky gods, dozens of them, filled the space. As Maerwynne had pointed out, some were dancing in the centre with partners – I assumed their mortal mates – moving in intimate, intricate steps. Other gods, those who seemed to have come here alone, were scattered in small groups talking amongst each other. The diversity in their lineage came into shocking focus, each male looking different from every other, skin, hair, even general shape and number of limbs and eyes varying vastly. They all had star maps and wings, but even those varied. Some wings were leathery like Wylf’s, others feathered, or furred, or glittering with scales. One male even had clear, crystalline pink wings, like a candy-coloured dragonfly. The star maps came in all different colours, but I noticed that almost all of the males who stood alone had areas of their maps that had lost light.

Heads were beginning to turn towards us, no doubt noticing our arrival. A quick glance through the room confirmed something I’d already guessed – I was the only human. As the eyes of so many immortals settled on me, I found myself grateful for the mask Wylf had placed on my face. It made me feel just a little shielded from the gazes that seemed to want to dig inside me.

“Come, beloved,” Wylf said softly against my ear. “I want to make them all even more jealous of my beautiful mate.”

Before I could respond, he’d pulled me into the centre of the dome, into the crowd of whirling dancers.

“I don’t know how!” I stammered, panic rising at the thought of getting trampled among the much more skilled dancers.

“I do,” was all Wylf said. He grasped my hand in his, then looped a strong arm around my back, hitching me up until I stood atop his feet. I barely had a chance to grasp his shoulder with my other hand before he was off, spinning me through the room with a rhythmic grace that both shocked and delighted me. I knew Wylf was graceful, but it had always been the grace of a predator. A smooth, prowling control belying violence. I didn’t know it could be channelled into something so beautiful, so romantic as whirling me effortlessly to ethereal, shadowy music.

A smile split my face, and I started to laugh, overwhelmed by the giddy beauty of the moment. Of dancing with Wylfrael, the husband I never should have had, in a room that shouldn’t have been sunny but somehow was, anyway. I closed my eyes, completely trusting Wylf’s movements, soaking in the extraordinary feeling of moving without really moving while the sun caressed my skin.

My eyes opened when I felt Wylfrael kissing me. He never missed a beat – his feet moving endlessly, carrying me through the dance, even while his mouth worked over mine. Sighing into the kiss, I opened to him, loving the way his hands tightened on me in response.

I could have stayed here in Wylfrael’s arms all night. I had a feeling Wylfrael could have, too. He seemed in no hurry to stop dancing or kissing to talk to the other gods, which was the whole reason we had come here in the first place. But I decided I didn’t care. I’d dance and kiss and feel the sun on my skin for as long as I could.

It wasn’t nearly long enough, it turned out. A strange, dark voice cut through the music and chatter, silk and shadow, stealing the warmth from my skin even though the sun still shone.

“Well, well, well, Wylfrael. You’ve found your bride, I see.”

Wylf immediately broke away from the kiss, his face tightening. He stopped dancing, too, and put me down at the edge of the dancing crowd in order to turn and greet whoever had just spoken to us.

As soon as I set eyes on him, I knew who he was.

Sceadulyr.

He had to be. Though he wasn’t any taller than Wylfrael, hovering in that seven-foot range, he exuded authority and control that no other god here could mimic. Though he did not say so, the lift of his chin, the knowing glint of his dark eyes, told me without words that we were entirely in his domain. I remembered what Wylfrael had told me, and held fast to his arm.

“Greetings, Sceadulyr,” Wylf said blandly. “Yes, I have married. This is my mate, Torrance.”

“Torrance,” Sceadulyr said, as if tasting the sound. I shivered and moved in closer to Wylfrael. “And where do you hail from, Torrance? Who are your people?”

I looked at Wylf for guidance, but he didn’t seem to be telling me to stay quiet with his expression. Maerwynne already knew I was human, anyway, so it wasn’t like it was a secret.

“I’m... I’m human.”

“Human! Ah, one of the new star travellers,” Sceadulyr replied. His words seemed cordial on the surface, but his tone didn’t truly feel that way. He grinned, but there was no mirth in it. It was all malice, all edge, all sharp teeth. It was strange – in some ways, Sceadulyr was more human-looking than Wylfrael. His skin was similar to the Shadowlands people’s, but was paler, more white than grey, with no glowing star map to speak of anywhere to make him look so immediately alien. Instead, small grey dots and lines, like bits of ash, dusted his skin where stars should have glowed. Apart from the unnerving nature of his smile, his mouth, nose, eyes, ears, and brows were mostly human in shape, though his eyes were all black, with silver, cat-like pupils. His hair was as long as Wylf’s, reaching nearly to his waist, but was pure black. So black it swallowed light. Despite the sunlight that gleamed on the dark silk of his shirt and trousers and illuminated his pale skin, his hair did not shine, did not reflect anything back. Neither did his wings, and it was only with an intense amount of squinting that I could make out the dimmed outline of black feathers on them, like a raven’s, but darker than any raven could ever hope to be.

“Um, yes,” I confirmed, feeling flustered. For some reason, it unnerved me that Sceadulyr knew anything about me or my people. Humans really are so stupid, spreading across the universe like this with no idea who we’re really dealing with...

“I have a gift for you, human.”

I looked down, frowning. In Sceadulyr’s hands was a fruit like the ones that hung from some of the trees in this dome. It was perfectly round and shiny, so deep red in colour it was almost black.

Every instinct told me not to take it. Stories of gardens and apples and underworlds and pomegranates spun through my head, whirling like the dancers, warning me.

But I didn’t want to do something wrong. I didn’t know the customs and didn’t want to offend the host and master here.

I let go of Wylfrael’s arm.

In an instant, the fruit was gone. Wylf was gone. Everyone was gone. Sceadulyr’s hands were on mine, viciously cold as he tugged me to him. He forced me into movement, leading me with restrained aggression through the steps of the dance I’d just done with Wylf. But where my husband had lifted me, supporting me, Sceadulyr pushed and pulled me until I was stumbling and dizzy.

“Tell me about your machines,” he hissed against my ear. “Tell me how you travel.”

“I... I don’t know. I’m not an engineer. I can’t give you any information about the ships.” I gasped. “Where’s Wylfrael?”

Panic made my heart pound. I twisted my head in Sceadulyr’s arms but couldn’t make anything out. Everything was shadow but him and me.

“Humans,” Sceadulyr said, venom dripping from his voice, spinning me until I thought I might collapse. “What is it about you humans? First Skalla, now Wylfrael.”

“Skalla?” I choked out, trying to keep up with Sceadulyr’s words while also doing everything in my power not to lose my footing, not to let him have total control of my body. “Skalla has a human mate?”

Sceadulyr didn’t answer, and before I could ask him anything else or demand that he let me go, something behind him caught my eye. Something dim, coated in gloom, but getting closer and sharper every moment.

It was a sword, slicing through the air. I almost sobbed when I saw that it was Wylfrael.

“Sceadulyr,” he roared, slashing his blade as if he could cut through the shadow that surrounded us. “No matter how much shadow magic you use, I can still smell her. You cannot escape from me.”

The ground underfoot began to shake. I knew it wasn’t Sceadulyr’s doing, because his silver and black eyes narrowed in irritation.

“Wylfrael and his stone powers,” he muttered. “So brutally unrefined.”

Vertigo overtook me as Sceadulyr’s grip on my body vanished, leaving me caught up in the momentum of his movements with nothing to hold onto. I swayed drunkenly to the side, tripping over my own feet, about to topple –

Two arms seized me and hauled me to a broad chest. Wylf. I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed in his familiar scent, cool frost and warm leather, fighting tears.

“There’s your bride for you, Wylfrael. I trust you’ll find her in the same condition as you left her. All dainty human fingers accounted for,” Sceadulyr purred from nearby. “So, you may reign in your bludgeoning, barbaric power and can stop threatening to topple my tower now.”

I tentatively opened my eyes to find we were in a new room, no longer the dome with everyone else. It was a much smaller circular space, the white walls curving upward – one of the cylindrical towers I’d seen from outside. There was no more darkness, and just like in the dome, the sunlight shone in here despite the stone roof.

The roof was shuddering, as were the walls and the floor, the stone vibrating with Wylf’s rage. He ignored Sceadulyr, cradling my face, his gaze piercing through the holes in the mask.

“Are you alright?” he asked, voice strained.

“Yes,” I said shakily. “Yes, I think so. He didn’t do anything.” Nothing besides dance me around until I nearly puked and scare the living daylights out of me, anyway.

Wylf shoved me behind his back, keeping one hand tight around my left wrist, his other hand holding his blade aloft.

“I should kill you for what you just did,” Wylf bellowed, pointing his blade accusingly at Sceadulyr. “Taking a bride from another god is unforgivable!”

Sceadulyr looked completely unperturbed by Wylfrael’s anger, which was a mark of power in and of itself. Even I, who loved Wylfrael and trusted him, was terrified by my husband’s rage, unlike anything I’d ever seen, even when he’d first found me.

“My, my, Wylfrael,” Sceadulyr said smoothly, arching a dark brow, “how sentimental you’ve become under the influence of the starburn. No need for all the dramatics. Your bride is fine. I suggest you stop threatening me, and leave my world, before that is no longer the case.”

“What did you just say?”

Wylf lunged forward, his blade coming to rest right under Sceadulyr’s throat.

Sceadulyr didn’t respond the way any normal person or even alien should have. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed, even though the movement caused his skin to slice, spilling silver blood down his front. His laughter died down, though his unnerving grin remained.

“Try it, Wylfrael. I may not have my star map, but I am just as powerful as I’ve ever been. If you think your stone power and sword can kill my shadows, I relish your challenge.” His voice fell lower, a whisper that somehow echoed everywhere. “But you should know that, if you lose, I will kill you and keep your bride for the rest of her mortal life until she dies alone without you.”

The walls shook harder, white dust and gravel falling like snow. I pulled my husband’s arm, begging him, “Let’s go, Wylfrael. Please, let’s go.”

I couldn’t stand the idea of Wylfrael fighting another stone sky god right in front of me and maybe even losing. He’d explained to me once that the bond of mortality only went one way. The stone sky god’s life became bound to his mortal mate’s, but hers was unchanged. The moment a mortal bride died, so did her bound stone sky god mate. But a mated stone sky god could be killed and his mortal bride would not die instantly the same way. She would live the rest of her natural life, same as she would have done if she’d never even met him.

I couldn’t bear that thought. I’d always operated under the assumption that I’d die before Wylfrael, and the alternative was catastrophic to me.

“Please, Wylfrael!”

Somehow, my pleas got through to my enraged husband. Without another word to Sceadulyr, he lifted me against him with one arm, keeping his sword aloft with the other. My legs went around his waist instinctively, the black skirt of my dress hiking upward as Wylfrael stormed out of the tower’s arched doorway and into the courtyard.

“We’re going back to Sionnach,” he spat. “I was a fool to bring you here.”

“It’s OK, Wylf,” I said, trying to soothe both him and myself. “He really didn’t do anything.”

“He took you from me!” Wylfrael shouted. “That is more than enough to have earned his death. Almost gave it to him, too. But I have to protect you and get you away from here. Your safety is the only thing I care about right now.” Breathing heavily, he slammed his sword into its place on his back and set me on my feet. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing, really,” I said, wanting to calm the turmoil in my husband. “He danced with me and asked about the humans’ ability to travel through space.”

“Typical,” he scoffed. “He’s getting desperate now that his star map has gone dark. He’s probably looking for any other way to travel now.”

He sighed harshly, running his hand through his hair and gazing steadily at me.

“I’m taking you back to Sionnach. Where you’ll be safe. Then, we’ll reconsider our next move.”

“We can’t reconsider,” I cried. “We have to get you on that council as soon as we possibly can! We have to find Skalla and be strong enough to face him when we do!”

“That can wait-”

“It can’t!”

I panted as Wylfrael watched me with searching eyes.

“It can’t wait,” I said again, taking a deep breath. “Because Skalla’s mate is human.”

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