Angel of Storms Page 4

  A collective gasp escaped the audience. Rielle stared at the Angel, his words repeating in her mind.

  Go to his world? Where the Angels live? To paint and weave?

  Or stay here, in a land not her own, working on tapestries of scenes that others chose. But how could she leave Betzi… but Betzi was sure to leave with Captain Kolz. And the weavers… she would miss them, especially Grasch.

  But not enough to turn down the Angel’s offer. I would never see Izare or my family again, but I can’t anyway, and I don’t think they would want to see me. In the Angel’s realm I would be among people who understood me. Fellow creators and servants of the Angels.

  “Yes,” she replied, her voice weak, then she cleared her throat. “Yes,” she repeated firmly. A whisper of excitement spilled from the onlookers.

  Valhan smiled. “Is there anything you wish to do before you leave?”

  She looked around the room until she found Sa-Mica. He was frowning, but as she met his gaze his brows relaxed. He looked relieved, she decided. All his worries had been proven unfounded.

  “Just… to say goodbye,” she said in Fyrian. “Could you send messages to my family? Tell them where I’m going, though I don’t expect they’ll believe it.” He inclined his head. She looked at the king and switched to Schpetan. “And send my thanks to Grasch and the weavers and to wish Betzi and Captain Kolz a happy life together.” He nodded and smiled. She turned back to Valhan. “That is all.”

  “Then there is no need to delay,” he said. He stepped closer and took her hands. His skin was cool. So this is what an Angel’s touch feels like. She looked up and saw that his gaze was fixed on a distant place far beyond the room’s walls.

  Then everything turned black.

  Her senses adjusted almost immediately. The lack of magic that her mind sensed was so complete that it no longer tricked her eyes into perceiving darkness. Yet her mind instinctively searched for it, in vain, and she recalled Sa-Mica’s story of the Angel removing magic from so much of the world. Had he taken the rest? Looking past the Angel she saw Schpetan priests standing open-mouthed with shock.

  “Take a deep breath,” Valhan instructed.

  She did as he bid, and as her lungs filled to capacity light began to imbue the room. Looking around, she saw amazement on the faces of the king, his guests and even Sa-Mica. All were fading before the light. But it was not a dazzling brightness. It was as though the world around her was being bleached white–fading like a tapestry would over the centuries if those years were speeding by in a few breaths.

  The Angel remained solid and vivid. The more her surroundings faded, the more conscious she grew of him. When all sign of the room had retreated into a uniform white, he was all she could see apart from herself. And feel. She looked down at their hands. His fingers were so pale against her brown skin. His hands were slender but masculine. Was he listening to her thoughts? She averted her eyes, looking out into the whiteness and discovering she could see shadows. Shapes formed and anticipation grew as she realised she was about to see the realm of the Angels.

  Only then did she wonder if this meant she had died.

  CHAPTER 4

  Would it matter if she had, if the result was the same? At least it had been painless. Before she could fully absorb the implications, the Angels’ world emerged from the whiteness and demanded her full attention.

  It was very odd indeed.

  An immense cliff wall stretched into the distance, strange trees sprouting sideways out of it. Looking down, she saw that the wall continued far below them, and excitement was overtaken by dizziness and an instinctive fear of falling.

  Then the scene turned and the wall became land and the trees, though still oddly shaped with fan-like branches, were growing in a normal vertical direction. She was surprised to see the land was dry and burned-looking–a wasteland that did not look welcoming even to someone who had grown up in a desert.

  Warm air surrounded her. The ground pressed against the soles of her boots. Her lungs shuddered and she found herself dragging in deep breaths, fighting off sudden dizziness. The Angel was unaffected. He surveyed the land with eyes narrowed, then straightened, his shoulders relaxing as if relieved of a weight. Perhaps the mortal world is hard for Angels to bear, she thought. He did not let her hands go. He waited and when she had caught her breath she saw black lines flash around him. The wasteland began to fade, but this time much more quickly. Whiteness returned, then a new landscape appeared. This time water stretched from horizon to horizon, brown and flowing in a slow and unstoppable mass. Rocks and slim trees emerged here and there, giving the impression this was a flood, not a sea. Yet she didn’t fall into it when air surrounded her again. Something invisible under her feet supported her weight.

  She was not breathless this time. The flood faded. The next place that emerged was bleak and frightening, contorted black rock protruding from glowing rivers of thick, red fluid. Searing heat assailed her for an instant before the hostile place began to disappear.

  From then on the views improved, ranging from forests to fields and then, to her surprise, they arrived within a wide flat space surrounded by buildings and populated by hundreds of people. Are they the dead? she wondered. Looking closer, she was disturbed to see beggars in the crowd, and men and women struggling with heavy burdens. Surely this could not be the Angels’ realm. Unless… Unless these people are being punished for a misdeed in their life. The priests had always hinted that the Angels would be kinder to the kindly, so perhaps they dealt more cruelly with the cruel.

  She expected to feel the stone pavement beneath her feet, but instead, while the view was still half visible, she and the Angel began to move across it. They passed right through people, then the buildings surrounding the square, then rose above the tops of buildings, rapidly gaining speed. She felt no sensation of motion, however. They reached the edge of the city and shot out into a great patchwork of fields.

  Low mountains shadowed the horizon ahead. Rielle noticed a three-storey building several times larger than the main temple in Fyre. The Angel headed towards it. Once again they passed through walls, this time slipping into the interior of the third level. As they moved from room to room Rielle glimpsed elaborately decorated and richly coloured furniture and walls. Men and women looked up, clearly able to see some shadow of the Angel and Rielle passing, yet they did not appear surprised. In one room a woman lounged on a seat wide enough that five could have rested upon it with her. She was extraordinarily beautiful, and was eating something from a gold bowl using a long-handled spoon.

  As Valhan stopped before her, the woman looked up and frowned. Then her eyes went wide. She leapt to her feet and set her bowl aside in one motion, then pressed her hands to her face. Tears filled her eyes. As sound and the touch of warm air surrounded Rielle the woman spoke, and though the words she uttered were incomprehensible, her joy at seeing the Angel was unmistakable.

  The Angel replied, and a short conversation followed. Rielle noticed that tiny radiating lines of Stain were appearing around the woman, vanishing so quickly that she thought she’d imagined it the first time. Then the Angel turned to Rielle and let her hand go so that he could gesture towards the woman.

  “This is Inekera,” he said in Fyrian. “Ruler of this world. She will bring you to my world when I am sure all is as I left it.” He took a step back and vanished.

  Rielle blinked at the empty space where he had stood. If this was not his world… then how many worlds were there? She turned back to Inekera. He’d said she was the ruler of this world. Did that make her a queen? Should I bow?

  The woman laughed and beckoned. “Rielle,” she said, then patted the chair. “Sit.”

  Obeying, Rielle wondered how the woman knew Fyrian. Then the answer came to her, so obvious she felt foolish. She read my mind, so she must be an Angel, too. No mortal woman could be so beautiful.

  Inekera’s smile widened. She pointed at Rielle. “You…” She waved a hand and Rielle detected a flas
h of Stain. Then her mind detected something else. Something incredible.

  “Magic!” she exclaimed, reaching out with her senses. “So much magic!” Energy imbued everything, so rich and condensed she was surprised the air did not glow.

  “Yes,” Inekera said. She hesitated, then touched her temple and pointed at Rielle. “You sense,” she instructed. “Now.”

  Obeying, Rielle lost all sight of the room as her awareness expanded. To have so much magic within her reach was incredible. And frightening. She could not imagine what could be done with so much of it. How far did it stretch? Was the whole world like this? She looked at the Angel.

  “Reach!” Inekera commanded, stretching her arms wide.

  Rielle obeyed, her senses flying outwards, unrestrained. She had no idea how far she stretched, only that her awareness flew further than it had ever gone before. Then she reached a place where the magic was weaker. She saw that it had an edge–and a shape.

  “Ah!” she said. “It’s curved–like a bowl–no, it’s a hollow dome! Or it could be a sphere I supp…”

  Hearing a gasp beside her, she drew her awareness back to the woman beside her. Inekera was staring at her, but her expression changed so quickly that Rielle couldn’t decide if it had been one of astonishment or horror. She decided on the former, as the Angel was smiling warmly now.

  Inekera patted Rielle’s knee and pointed at the seat. “Stay here.” She vanished.

  Abruptly alone, Rielle took the opportunity to examine her surroundings. The seat was covered in a fur so finely prepared that all of the hairs were the same length. It was dyed a brilliant green. Running fingers over it, she saw that when the hair parted, woven fibres could be seen beneath. It was a fabric, not a fur. Incredible workmanship.

  The arms of the chair were gold, but were most likely painted, as it would never have supported its own weight if made of pure metal. The table the Angel had laid her bowl on matched the chair, as did the bowl. She resisted the temptation to lift the vessel to test its weight.

  Looking around the room, Rielle took in the luxurious decoration and furniture. Inekera lived well. But what of the other people here? What of the beggars and workers she had seen in the square where she and Valhan had first arrived? So many questions. So much to learn.

  I know so little of the Angels’ realm, she realised. Or rather, realms. Clearly, priests’ knowledge of the Angels they worshipped was limited. Or they were not free to tell ordinary people. Perhaps we’re supposed to discover all this when we die. Except she hadn’t died. Or so she assumed. Another question for the Angels.

  Valhan had spoken of other artisans in his world. She was not the first to be chosen to work for him. What would their work be like? What would they be like? The best of the best. She would have much to learn.

  She shook her head, rose and moved to a window, pushing aside heavy drapes in the same deep green. It was so hard to be patient.

  “Rielle.”

  Turning, she smiled as she saw that Inekera had returned. She moved back towards the chair, and the woman stepped forward to meet her, holding out her hands.

  “Come with me.”

  Placing her own hands in the Angel’s, Rielle expected the room to vanish. Instead the house faded a little and they began to slide sideways. They returned to the city, but did not linger long enough for Rielle to see if the beggars were still there. The square faded and another landscape replaced it, then another and another. Images of strange places flickered in and out of sight so quickly she barely had a chance to absorb them.

  They also barely stopped long enough for Rielle to take a breath and she began to feel dizzy. It was clear mortals could not breathe when travelling between worlds. At the next stop she quickly sucked in as much as she could.

  “I need—” she tried to say, but her words were cut off as the whiteness returned. Speaking was impossible, how could she speak without breath? She looked at Inekera, hoping to communicate her distress in her expression.

  Inekera met her gaze with one that was hard and cold and calculating. At Rielle’s shock and confusion a brief flicker of sympathy softened the woman’s features, then the hardness returned. Her grip loosened.

  Realising what the Angel was about to do, Rielle instinctively grabbed at the elegant hands and managed a tenuous grip around two fingers. As she tightened this, Inekera’s eyes and mouth widened. The Angel scowled, then pulled herself closer, placed her other hand on Rielle’s chest… and gave a great shove.

  Rielle’s grip slipped from Inekera’s fingers. As soon as they no longer touched, the Angel rapidly faded to white.

  Abruptly alone, Rielle flailed about, instinctively trying to dig her toes into the ground and reach for something to take hold of, but found no purchase. She fought back panic, aware only of white nothingness and that she had no idea how to reach the next world. Was she stuck here now?

  But something told her she was moving. Calming herself, she concentrated on the sensation. The feeling grew stronger. When the Angel had shoved her away the momentum had propelled her towards… somewhere.

  Perhaps it had been deliberate. Rielle considered Inekera’s last expression and shook her head. She was afraid of me keeping hold of her. Wherever she wanted me to be, she didn’t want to go herself.

  To her relief, she could see distinct shapes in the whiteness now. As colours and shapes formed, it all began to make sense.

  A desert.

  Inekera had sent her home.

  CHAPTER 5

  Rielle learned the exact moment she arrived back in her world when pain speared through her head. Her lungs were suddenly consumed by the need to breathe as deeply and rapidly as possible. Her legs refused to support her, and she dropped to the sand. It was as if she had held her breath for too long. No–as if someone had tried to suffocate her; she would never have been able to hold her breath so long.

  Her temples throbbed. Her muscles were numb or shaky. Her lungs rattled and wheezed. She lay on the hot sand and gasped like a sea creature scooped from the water and thrown into a seaman’s basket to die. Eventually she was able to swallow, which only led to a fit of coughing. As she recovered from that, her mind stopped spinning and the ache eased enough for her to think.

  Why did Inekera send me home? she wondered. Why didn’t she take me to Valhan’s world, as he said she would? Had he found his world in a terrible state, and figured it was better she return to her own?

  He could have given Inekera a message for me, explaining the problem, Rielle thought crossly. She rolled her head to the side and gazed out over the dunes. Unless… unless there was no need.

  Perhaps this was his world.

  Lifting her head, Rielle examined what appeared to be the top of a dune. She pushed herself up on her elbows, then slowly rose to her feet. Sand extended in all directions. There was no sign of a road. No mountains in the distance, either. She brushed at the grains on her clothes. They were a different size and colour to those that blew into her family’s dyeworks during storms. If she was in the mortal world, she was nowhere near her home town of Fyre.

  Having grown up in a city on the edge of a desert, in a merchant family whose male members handled transportation of dyes and cloth, she knew a little about survival in the desert. She knew that she was dangerously ill-prepared to be where she was. She had no water. A human could survive without food for several days, but without water no more than a few hours.

  Why didn’t Inekera deliver me to Fyre, or Schpeta, or some other safe location?

  She thought of the Angel’s fear when Rielle had held onto her. What would have happened to her if she’d entered Rielle’s world? Of course! The answer was obvious, now Rielle had found it. The Angel had removed a great deal, if not all, of the magic. Perhaps if Inekera had entered Rielle’s world she would have become trapped, with no magic left to take herself out again. The only way she could send Rielle home without joining her there was to propel her towards it. Perhaps she’d had no way of aiming for any par
ticular place in this world when she’d shoved Rielle in its direction.

  It was simply bad luck that Rielle had arrived in a desert.

  The sunlight was beating down relentlessly and she had begun to sweat. She massaged her aching temples. She needed to think past the ache and fuzziness in her head. A bad decision now could propel her towards a slow death.

  The position of the sun could mean it was either a few hours since dawn, or until dusk. It would not be long before she would know which. If she was lucky it was the latter and the sky would remain clear when night fell. She knew a few constellations and could guess from them which direction to start walking in.

  Though she was wearing more and thicker layers than was comfortable, they did protect her from the sun. Still, she didn’t need all of them and she would require something to cover her head. Taking off her underskirt, she tried different combinations of knots until she had an arrangement of fabric that would cover her head, neck and most of her face without obscuring her vision. She sat down and removed her boots, stockings and fitted jacket. The blouse underneath covered her arms well enough and, once untucked, allowed more air to flow around her torso.

  Her feet would need protection from the hot sand, but the ankle-high boots were going to fill with sand and be an extra weight she didn’t need. It would have been a good solution to carve holes in the shoes to let the sand that spilled into them fall out again, but she had nothing on her that could cut leather. She could have used magic… though this was hardly using it for self-defence… if there was any left… She looked around… and gasped. Magic surrounded her, as rich and dense as in Inekera’s world.

  “What…?” she said, then her throat froze as she realised what this meant.

  I can’t be in the mortal world!

  Which meant she was in Valhan’s world or another world. Unless… unless removing all the magic of her world had somehow made it fill with magic again. She sighed as weariness swept over her. She was tired of unanswered questions. I will know if I’m in my world when the stars come out. In the meantime, best concentrate on practicalities.