Текст книги "Alien god"

Автор книги: Ursa Dox

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Torrance

Well doesn’t he just look the picture of fucking repose over there.

I glared daggers at Asha Wylfrael, stretched out and relaxed in his chair like a smug cat. What the hell is he even doing here?

I couldn’t understand why I’d graduated from being stuck in here alone to suddenly having a bedside guard. Especially after I’d been so nice and obedient today while he’d been gone. I hadn’t given Aiko or Shoshen any trouble. I’d eaten all my meals and been a good, quiet human.

So why, then?

And why the weird inspection of my open mouth?

The memory of his touch on my jaw and neck burned almost as his bright blue eyes had as he’d wrenched open my mouth like some kind of violent alien dentist.

Fuck him. I’ve never even had a cavity.

But that only reminded me I had no goddamn toothbrush here. If my teeth start falling out because they didn’t give me a toothbrush, I swear to God...

I sighed tightly, reminding myself to keep my priorities in check. Dental hygiene was lower on the list than staying the fuck alive in captivity here.

I remained upright, back against the headboard, my arms crossed over my chest. My neck started getting stiff after a while – Asha Wylfrael was at the side of the bed, so my head was turned to keep him in view. But I didn’t care about how sore I got. My head could feel like it was going to pop right off my shoulders and I still wouldn’t turn away.

I wouldn’t sleep, either. No way. Not now. Not with that silver-haired sentinel at my bedside. I doubted I could sleep even if I wanted to – the cortisol thumping through my veins would no doubt keep me alert.

At least, that’s what I’d thought. But as the minutes ticked by and turned to hours, my eyelids grew hotter and heavier. Each blink lasted longer than the one before. I pinched my forearm, the one that wasn’t bruised, until my skin was red and splotchy.

Stay awake. Stay... awake...

Suddenly, I was awake.

And it was morning. Bright light from outside made the chamber walls glow, casting a pink haze down upon the white fur bedding. Bedding that was wrapped snuggly around me where I lay. Apparently in sleep I’d completely abandoned my seated pose and had snuggled right down, all warm and happy once my brain had switched off.

Traitor, I said silently to my body as I righted myself.

Asha Wylfrael was right where I’d left him, but now his eyes were open. And he wasn’t lounging in the chair, but sitting up straight. I frowned at him, keeping the fur bedding tight around me like some soft, fluffy shield. He looks different.

He must have left the room at some point while I was sleeping, because he was dressed in fresh clothing. Similar tight black trousers that he always wore, and black boots. There was another black leather-looking vest like yesterday’s, but this one had crisscrossing straps across the bare strip of skin between the vest’s sides, fastened with shining buttons the colour of copper. Where the vest revealed skin, I could see there were fewer bandages than before. How the hell is he healing so fast?

His hair was what looked the most different. No longer long and loose, it was smooth, as if just combed, and held behind him in a simple low ponytail, tied in place with a ribbon of blue fabric that looked like silk.

If I hadn’t hated him, I would have admired the way the blue ribbon complemented the icy blaze of his eyes and the silver-sapphire glow of the lights strewn over his skin like shimmering tattoos.

But I did hate him. So fuck him and his pretty ribbon.

He rose from the chair, the movement one of perfect grace and controlled alien power. He said something, his wings shifting behind him as he gestured with an open palm towards the table on the other side of the room. Breakfast was waiting for me there. I practically cried with relief when I saw there was only one plate this time. Good. He isn’t planning to stay.

In fact, he was already on his way out the door, the soles of his boots making his footsteps crisp and loud in the space. He paused in the doorway, as if he were about to say something. His wings twitched. But he said nothing.

And then he was gone.

I wasn’t alone long. Less than a second. As soon as Asha Wylfrael left, he was replaced by Aiko. She strode into the room and stationed herself beside the tray of food on the table expectantly.

“I know, I know. I’m going to eat,” I grumbled. I rubbed my hands roughly over my face. My head felt hot and heavy, my mouth dry and tasting awful. “Do you have anything I can use for my teeth?”

Aiko’s head tilted, her ears arching forward to better hear the words I knew she couldn’t understand.

“My teeth.” I mimed cleaning them. “Do you guys use toothpaste? Toothbrushes?”

I was sure she knew what I meant now. She straightened, her ears perking up, and smiled.

I smiled wanly back.

“Thank God.”

She hurried to the door as if off to fetch one for me, and I sagged with gratitude and relief for her kindness. But when she reached the door, she froze mid-step. Instantly, she turned around, marching back into the room.

My heart sank.

“You’re not allowed to leave me alone, are you?”

Something had changed since yesterday. It seemed like I was to be under constant supervision every moment going forward.

I thought being alone up here was bad. But this was worse.

At least it’s Aiko now and not him.

Defeated, I slid out of the bed. I walked past Aiko in silence, heading for the small bathroom. I wondered if she’d even follow me in there, but thankfully she didn’t.

I did my business, then washed my hands. I washed my face too, splashing water until it rolled down my neck and soaked my T-shirt. I ended up removing it entirely, leaving on only my bra so I could clean under my arms. I washed my hair in the sink, lathering the soapy cream stuff and rinsing as best I could. It was a bit of a shitshow, between how long my hair was and how awkwardly high the sink was positioned. Without a mirror, I had no idea if I’d rinsed out all the suds when I was finished. Oh well. I twisted the long, soaked hair, wringing it out as best I could before putting my shirt back on.

I should have washed all my clothes in the sink and let them dry when I was alone, I lamented. I could have done that last night instead of bawling my eyes out in bed. If there was going to constantly be someone in my room going forward, I didn’t see how I’d get the chance, now. I guess I could wear my snowsuit while my clothes dry... Or maybe wear half of it at a time. Wear the snowpants on trouser-and-panty-washing day, the parka on shirt and bra day...

It was utterly depressing just how quickly I was establishing the practical details of my life in this tower, this world. Brushing my teeth, cleaning my clothes. Learning how to live here because I’d never get to leave.

Hair dripping and leaving sopping dark circles on my shirt, I headed back out into the main chamber. Aiko started towards me, as if me being out of her sight had made her nervous. She stopped when she noticed my wet hair and shirt.

She said something, something that sounded like a question. I shook my head, pursing my lips to keep myself from blowing out an irritated breath. Not having a clue what everyone was saying to me was getting old, fast. I wonder if I could convince Aiko to teach me the language...

She no doubt sensed my lack of understanding and didn’t say anything else. Instead, she hurried over to the big oblong tiled area set into the floor. She knelt, pressing down on one specific green tile, and it sank like a button being pushed under her touch. I jumped as the sound of rushing liquid suddenly echoed.

Water rushed from unseen cracks among the tile, filling the large basin in the floor. My eyes bugged out of my head. A bathtub?

I felt like an idiot for not realizing it before. But there was no obvious tap here like there was above the bathroom sink. I memorized which tile it was Aiko had pressed to make the bath fill up. The water rose rapidly until the water-releasing cracks were covered, turning those spots into jets that made the bath froth and rumble.

When the bath was nearly full, Aiko pressed the same tile and the water ceased. She stood back expectantly, waiting for me to get in.

I hadn’t exactly anticipated getting naked in front of an alien this morning, but then again, what parts of this whole experience could have been anticipated? The bath steamed, and I worried at my lip with my teeth, knowing how wonderful the water would feel on my still-stiff muscles.

Screw it.

Asha Wylfrael was gone, at least for the moment. I’d get in just long enough to get clean and soothe my body, then jump back out. At the last moment, I went over to the shelf by the bed and grabbed my snowsuit. I’d probably be sweating my ass off, right after washing, too, but I didn’t see much of a way around it. I wanted to wash my clothing in the bath and I’d have to wear something while my stuff dried.

I laid the snowsuit on the floor beside the beautifully tiled bath. Cheeks flaming, I stripped down and slid into the bathtub as quickly as I could. If Aiko was curious about my weird alien body, she was good enough to hide it and not to stare.

Holy shit.

I exhaled, letting the heat work through my bones. I hadn’t had a bath since I’d left Earth. There were only showers on the ship, and our shower time had been severely limited. So this, this caress of hot water over my skin after working for weeks out in the winter cold, was pure, luxurious bliss. The bath was so large and deep it was almost more like a pool. I waded along, the water sloshing up to my collarbones, swishing my hands back and forth.

A clink on the floor nearby made me turn my head. Aiko had placed the jar of soapy cream stuff from the bathroom within reach.

“Thank you,” I said, nodding to her. She trilled something in reply, then made herself busy in the room, straightening my boots and making the bed.

Why does this feel more like room service than imprisonment? I wondered what Asha Wylfrael would think about his maid or employee or whatever she was drawing me baths and tidying my room.

Thinking of him made me shiver despite the heat of the water. He might not be gone for long. Even though the thought of getting out of this bath now was torture, I cleaned myself quickly before hand-washing my clothing in the water. I hauled myself, dripping, limbs rubbery, out, then hustled over to the hearth with my wet clothes. I laid them flat in from of the big, burning stone that heated this room, then grabbed my snowsuit and pulled it on, wincing at the way it stuck to my damp skin. As anticipated, I immediately started sweating, the insulated fabric trapping heat against my body. I left the parka unzipped, deciding I cared less about modesty in front of Aiko than I did about boiling to death.

I flopped down in the remaining chair by the table, but it was too hot over here by the fire with my snowsuit on. I grabbed the tray of food and brought it over to the bed, hopping up awkwardly in my puffy outfit. Getting comfy, I started to eat – more bread and fish paste, though they’d mercifully left off the eggs this time – and watched Aiko drain the tub by pressing on another tile.

A little while after I was finished eating, Shoshen came to the chamber’s door to collect the tray and dishes. Aiko spoke to him, and he quickly hurried away.

When Aiko didn’t go with him, it confirmed what I’d thought this morning. That I wasn’t being left alone in here, even for a moment.

But there were some small rays of hope.

Like when Shoshen returned with the lunch tray later. Next to the plate of food was an odd, scrubby, finger puppet-looking thing with a tiny jar beside it.

It took me a moment, but then understanding hit me, followed by a wave of gratitude for these two strange but oddly sweet alien people.

It was a toothbrush.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Wylfrael

My power had recovered enough to open a sky door to Rúnwebbe’s world, though I’d landed farther from her cave than I’d meant to. I was in a deep, ragged valley of black rock, between shadowy mountains. It was daytime here, but there was little sunlight penetrating the thick grey clouds above. Though the black all around me was as reflective as the crystal of my homeland, it swallowed the light rather than shone.

Though I was not where I wanted to be, there was no way to get lost here. Everywhere, the jagged rock was draped with threads – Rúnwebbe’s work – that led back to her cave. The webbing glimmered in every colour imaginable, a stark contrast to the onyx rock. Intricately woven silken threads in shades of Sionnachan-sky pink, tree-silver, warm brown and gold just like –

Focus.

I lifted back into the air, beating my wings and flying, following the threads. I held my satchel tightly, making sure it did not fall. It was the satchel Hoshta had given me. I’d dumped out the fabrics purchased for the prisoner and had ordered Aiko to put them away. Then, I’d filled the satchel with gifts. Five gifts, to be precise, one for each bit of webbing I required from Rúnwebbe. Rúnwebbe never left this world, but she hoarded treasures at a level nearly comparable to Skalla’s mother’s people. She loved all manner of contraptions and trinkets from other lands and required gifts in order to share her web and divulge any information she possessed, whispers caught along her gleaming threads. I’d chosen five exquisitely carved Sionnachan crystal goblets to offer her, a matching set but each one a different colour. They clinked against each other as I flew. The only other thing I’d brought was my sword, given to me by my father, strapped to my back.

The air here was a shock after leaving Sionnach’s sky. Hot and dry, it buffeted my skin and wings, the wind feeling like the physical drag of dusty claws.

As I flew, the valley beneath deepened. I was getting closer now. The valley cut down, down, down, carving deep into black stone, pulling all the webbing down with it. In the deepest, darkest part of the valley, invisible if not for the shimmering webbing leading to its mouth, was a cave. Rúnwebbe’s cave.

I angled my wings and descended, landing among the multi-coloured threads at the entrance to the pitch-black cave.

“Wylfrael,” came her voice, sounding as if it came from everywhere, from inside my own head. A hiss, a whisper, a howl.  From her place deep in the cave, there was no way Rúnwebbe could see that it was me, but that did not matter. I’d landed among her web and the web told her all.

The voice spoke again.

“I heard whissspers you’d awoken.”

“Your whispers tell you true,” I called back, beginning the long walk down to where I’d find her.

A mirthless laugh met my words, a scraping cackle of a sound that made the fur on my tail puff up.

“They always do, stone sky god. They alwaysss do.”

It was not apparent outside, but the webbing actually gave off its own light. It was dim, but in the opaque darkness of Rúnwebbe’s cave, it lit the way, making the black walls luminous. I continued downward, the air growing cool around me. This deep, condensation formed on the webbing that covered the floor and ceiling and walls, pearly pinpricks of dew that shuddered and dripped when my motions made the webbing shake.

Finally, the descent halted, the ground flattening and the way widening into the astonishing home of Rúnwebbe.

Without her and her webbing, it would have merely been a cave. A large and sprawling one, to be sure, but a simple rocky cave all the same.

Rúnwebbe’s weaving made the place into a richly-layered, spangled space of multi-coloured light. Her webbing, woven into excruciatingly perfect geometric patterns, covered every surface. It hung from the ceiling and spilled down the walls like glowing tapestries, undulating to the floor to create a carpet older than any stone sky god.

And at the centre of it all was the whisper weaver herself. Rúnwebbe. Though her stature was hunched, she stood even taller than me. She appeared to grow right out of the webbing itself, though the illusion was backwards. She did not come from the webbing, but the webbing from her. Her woven robes connected directly to the rest of the webbing, flaring outward from her silver-skinned body. Her six long, bony arms worked ceaselessly as she bent over the webbing, her black claws sorting through the endless whispers of the universe.

“I’ve brought you gifts,” I said, hoisting the satchel into the air. “Five gifts for five bits of your web.”

Five of her arms kept moving, but one rose, cricking a knobby finger, beckoning me forward. As I walked, webbing shifted, like a living thing, parting before me as I made my way. It was not my power that moved the webbing out of the way, but hers.

I stopped walking when I reached her. This close, I could see her four large, black eyes and the four slitted nostrils in her angular silver face. Her mouth was so wide it stretched nearly from one side of her head to the other, and when she opened it to speak, it was as if half her face completely unhinged.

“Let me see the giftsss.”

I opened the satchel. Five of her arms were still skittering back and forth over her webbing as the sixth reached inside and pulled out each goblet, one at a time. Within moments, the goblets had disappeared into the layers of her web, trophies to be woven somewhere into the tapestry. I could see other such treasures, brought by other stone sky gods and Riverdark mages – jewellery and weapons and metal – glinting from between the shimmering strands.

“These will sssuffice,” she said.

Her black claws flashed. She held out five of her hands, each silver palm containing a small square of webbing to take back with me. I placed four of the pieces into the satchel but decided to waste no time with my own. I lifted my chin, angling my head backwards, and pressed a piece of webbing into my left ear.

My ear grew hot and buzzed viciously as the webbing dissolved inside the canal. I resisted the urge to violently shake my head, to twitch my ears until the sensation went away. When the heated buzzing finally did fade, I felt no different than before, but knew that the next time the human spoke to me, I’d understand her.

“Thank you, Rúnwebbe.” I said solemnly, pulling the satchel’s drawstring tight. A question entered my mind. I hesitated, knowing I had not brought enough gifts to satisfy her, but asked it anyway. “Have you had any news of my cousin Skallagrim? Where he is now?”

Her four black eyes narrowed.

“Have you brought more giftsss?”

I cursed myself for not thinking ahead this far. I’d been so preoccupied with my prisoner I’d lost sight of the larger problems at hand and hadn’t brought more items to trade for knowledge of Skalla or anything else. I didn’t want to deplete my energy by opening multiple sky doors to travel back and forth from here and Sionnach if I could help it, and besides, Rúnwebbe grew weary of visitors quickly. She would not take kindly to repeated visits from the same stone sky god in a short period of time.

I considered giving her my sword but wanted to avoid that if I could since it was a treasured gift from my father. An idea came to me, and I hoped it would be enough. Holding the satchel with one hand, I used the claws from my other to slice off some strands of my own hair and offered it to her.

“The hair of a stone sky god for my web?” she hissed, flat nostrils flaring. “Yesss, this will do, Wylfrael.”

“Where is he, then? Do you know?”

“He is with his mate.”

His mate!

“He’s found her! Is he still mate-mad, or is he now cured? Who is she? What world does she hail from?”

“The gift, Wylfrael.” Her tone grew sharp with warning. The webbing vibrated all around me.

“Of course.”

She lifted a hand, and I dropped my severed hair into it. Her three fingers closed over my hair. As soon as the fist was made, her entire body went rigid. Her head flew back and her eyes went wide, endless black orbs in her face.

“What is it?” I asked urgently as the webbing shook with such force I thought the entire cave might collapse down around us. Rúnwebbe’s back arched, her body contorting, her six arms rising out to her sides.

“I see her,” Rúnwebbe gasped.

“Who?” I barked. “Skalla’s mate?”

“Not Ssskallagrim’s,” she groaned. “Yours.”

Mine... My mate?

Her next words tumbled quickly from her mouth, each one running into the last and bouncing off the walls of the cave in an endless, spiralling echo.

“Bound yet unbound. A partner and a pawn.

Trapped under the arching sky of dawn.”

“What are you talking about?” I snapped. “Who is she? Where?”

But Rúnwebbe just kept going, as if she could not hear me and did not see me.

“Fated bride of Wylfrael. Starburning but afraid.

And when she dies, it will be by her husband’s hand and blade.”

Everything stopped – the words, the shaking. The cave was plunged into stillness so catastrophic it felt like an explosion.

Rúnwebbe hunched over, her six arms folding in towards her torso. I stared at her for a long moment, slowly becoming aware of a brutal hammering sound. I wondered what dared disturb the shocked silence that followed Rúnwebbe’s words before realizing it was my own heart.

“Ask me no more questionsss, Wylfrael,” the weaver of whispers finally croaked.

My jaw worked, defiance rising in me.

“No, Rúnwebbe,” I murmured icily. My voice grew louder. “You must tell me more!” I would rip every strand of hair from my head if I had to. I’d give her my sword if she asked it of me now. Anything. Anything.

I had to know, had to know, who my mortal mate was. Where she was. When she was. If she was somewhere out there, even now, or if she had yet to be born.

Born to die by her husband’s hand and blade...

Impossible.

It made no sense. That I would kill my fated one, the one I was destined to love above all others. And even more than that, it meant that I would be killing, by proxy, myself. Once a stone sky god claimed his mortal mate and sealed the bond by giving her his knot, his life became inextricably linked with hers. He died the same moment she did.

“You’re wrong, Rúnwebbe,” I rasped when she did not answer. “I would not, could not-”

“The whispersss are never wrong.”

“Curse your whispers!” I roared. My hands shook, my breath tearing in and out of my chest. The webbing began to vibrate again, and where it had once parted way for me, it now surged inwards, rising and falling like tempest-whipped waves, shoving me backward out of the cave as Rúnwebbe shrieked.

“Out, Wylfrael!” Her voice cut through the air like slashing wings as I was forced into retreat. “Out, god of stone sky and Sionnach! Out, bride-killer, with your questions and your curses and your blade! Out, out! Out, and do not dare return. For if you do, I’ll save your doomed mate by killing you myself.”

I fought with everything I had against the web as it bore me ever backward and upward towards the surface. I refused to go – not like this. I had to get back down there. I had to make the whisper weaver explain everything, make her go back on her word, admit that she was wrong.

But the webbing did not let me go, and all around me its strands shivered with the words it had caught out of the air, hurling them back at me in a cacophony that started as a hushed breath and ended as a scream.

The whispersss... The whispersss...

The whispersss are never wrong.

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