CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
As Atiana floats in the darkness of the aether, the storm rages around her. She doesn’t know how long it’s been. It feels like lifetimes, especially when she’s tossed by the hidden currents. The loss of the spires has made the aether more unpredictable than she’s ever seen, so much so that she can hardly control her thoughts. She feels the currents in the Sea of Khurkhan, feels the wind sighing through the meadows of Kiravashya, feels the roots of the oldest spruce on Galahesh. She feels the fear of a winds-man on the deck of his ship as he and his comrades fly toward battle, feels the hopelessness of a mother as she holds her frail, sickened child, feels the building of a man toward release as he clutches his lover’s hair and thrusts desperately into her.
But then, like the tides that drive the water through the Straits of Galahesh, time slows. The images of the world around her fade, and like honey on the steps of winter, time moves so slowly she wonders whether it will stop altogether.
She knows that this is a time most dangerous. It is a time when she runs the risk of becoming so attuned to the world-the islands, the water, the air itself-that she might soon release her hold on her body and float freely through the paths of the aether. She wonders whether her soul will cross the veil to Adhiya, or perhaps it will remain, forever trapped. Is this what happened to the Matri who became lost? Will she find them when her soul slips free? Will it take only moments to do so, or will it take years or centuries or eons? Perhaps when she returns they’ll be so foreign to her that she’ll never even sense them.
Her mind begins to dull. She feels the weight of the earth and little else. It presses down on her, forces her- slowly but with ever growing strength-to succumb, to leave the world she once knew behind. It tempts her. She recalls vaguely that she has a body, that blood runs through her veins, but she doesn’t care. She would rather feel the stone as it rests in layers, slowly shifting, supporting the weight of the world.
It is here, in this torpid state, that she first feels the signs of another. A woman. Her scent is immediately familiar, and she thinks that perhaps another of the women from the islands-she forgets their names-has been taken. But as the presence coalesces, she thinks not. This one is old-not as old as the earth, but certainly older than the children that have spread themselves throughout the islands.
The woman is not aware of her until she reaches out, and then, like a taper set to the wick of a candle, she brightens. It is through this act-the creation of light in another-that she is illuminated as well.
She remembers herself.
Atiana…
Atiana Radieva Vostroma.
She is a child of the islands, a child of the Grand Duchy, and she lies now in the bowels of the earth on the island of Galahesh.
She remembers the other as well.
Sariya, who once called herself Arvaneh.
Sariya Quljan al Vehayeh.
She is one of the Al-Aqim, a child of the desert wastes of the Gaji, and she lies now in her tower in the city of Baressa.
This realization strikes Atiana as strange.
She lies in her tower…
When Atiana last took the dark, she saw Nasim destroy another tower, a tower Sariya had built for herself in her years of exile on Ghayavand. And now, here she is, lost among the aether as Atiana is.
Was it the destruction of the tower that laid her low? Or was it the destruction of the spires?
Does it even matter?
Nyet. What matters is that she is lost.
And yet, in that glimpse she had of her only moments ago, Atiana saw something else. A plan. Sariya wishes to destroy the spires, not in preparation for Muqallad, but in defiance of him.
In defiance.
Why?
It is a question that needs answering.
She calls to Sariya, and receives nothing in return. She reaches out, feels for her. She finds her and draws her closer.
Sariya is weak, but she finally responds, and slowly the two of them buttress one another. The weight of the earth begins to recede. The islands come into focus, as does the sea, the air. And the life within it.
Only then does her sense of purpose return to her. For so long she had been little more than her senses, little more than the life that runs through this world and to the one beyond. She remembers now. She remembers that she was here not to help Sariya, but to murder her. These thoughts return to her, as does the feeling of desperation she had when she entered the cemetery.
Yet in remembering this, Sariya knows as well-they are too closely linked for it to be otherwise-and it sparks in Sariya memories of her own. She remembers the unfolding of her plans, and through their bond, Atiana remembers them too.
As Sariya waits in the dark of the aether, the last stones of the Spar are lowered into place. She assumes the form of a rook. She is new to such things, but she’s watched the Matri of the islands closely, and she’s learned from them how to control the simple beasts. She tells the windships lying in wait to the north-nearly three score in all- that it’s time. They approach the straits, the kapitans fearing what’s to come, but as she told them, they pass beyond the white cliffs with little more trouble than they’d have approaching the cliffs of an eyrie.
And then the telltale sign of something old, something familiar, alerts her. It is in the tower, in the aether. Sariya approaches and finds Nasim, and the Atalayina. This is unexpected. The stone has never been key to her plans, but she can’t pass up the opportunity to gain it, to prevent Muqallad from attaining it.
She pushes, hoping to retrieve it if only Nasim can reveal where it was hidden. Nasim does, but he is stronger than she would have guessed, and he has help from the woman, the Matra from Vostroma. In the end she pushes too hard-she allows her emotions to overcome her-and she is lost in the aether. It is a mistake she won’t make again.
These memories fade, and Atiana realizes just how strong Sariya is becoming. She tries to retreat, but Sariya pins her down, prevents her from returning to her body deep in the bowels of the cemetery. Atiana fights, but Sariya will not be swayed. She drives Atiana so deep that Atiana begins to fear that she’ll never be able to return.
And then she feels the stone. She holds it in her hands. Part of it is smooth, the inner faces rough. It is just as cold as the numbing water that surrounds her, but there is life within it, a well of power that waits to be tapped.
She has gained some of Sariya’s knowledge of the Atalayina, and she draws upon it for the first time. She uses it now to push Sariya away.
Sariya tries to fight, but for the moment she is too weakened from her ordeal. She releases Atiana, and then her presence is simply gone.
Atiana knows she has resurfaced. She has regained consciousness in her tower, and there’s no telling what she’ll do now that she knows where Atiana lays.
Atiana swims toward the surface, tries to return to her physical self.
She moves slowly…
But eventually she returns.
When Atiana woke, spluttering in the basin, she was numb. Her hands would not respond when she willed them to move. All she could do was to curl like an infant and shiver while cold water dripped from her hair.
Ishkyna was there, but she was sleeping.
Atiana tried to speak, but her mouth refused her commands.
“Shkee-” she eventually managed to say.
Ishkyna did not wake.
“Shkyna…”
Ishkyna opened her eyes, wild and confused. Her gaze finally settled on Atiana.
“H-how long?”
