“We’re alive,” Ann says, both surprised and relieved.
“Ann,” Pippa says, “look—now you are a golden girl!”
It’s true. Golden flakes coat our skin. Felicity turns her hands this way and that, laughing joyfully as she watches them shimmer. "Oh, we’re fine, aren’t we? No trouble at all!”
Pippa laughs. "I told you not to be afraid.”
“The magic is strong,” the gorgon says. Whether it’s a statement or a caution I cannot tell.
“Gemma,” Pippa asks, “why must we bind the magic?”
“What do you mean? Because it is loose inside the realms.”
“What if that’s not such a terrible thing? Why shouldn’t anyone be allowed to use this power?”
I do not like where this is going. "Because they could use it to come into our world and create havoc. There’d be no sense of order or control upon it.”
“You don’t know that the inhabitants of the realms would use it unwisely.”
She hasn’t heard the gorgon’s story, else she might think otherwise. "Don’t we? Do you remember that creature that enslaved my mother?”
“But it was joined to Circe. Perhaps they’re not all like that,” Pippa muses.
“And how would I decide who should have it, who can be trusted?”
No one has an answer to this.
I shake my head. “It is out of the question. The longer the magic is loose, the greater the danger that those spirits here can become corrupted. We must find the Temple and bind the magic once again. Then we shall reform the Order and maintain the balance of the realms.”
Pippa pouts. She has the irritating good fortune of looking beautiful while she does this. "Very well. We’re almost there anyway.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE RIVER HAS NARROWED AGAIN. WE’RE ENTERING a spot where the trees grow tall, thick, and green. Thousands of lanterns hang from their branches. It reminds me of Diwali, the festival of lights in India, when Mother and I would stay up late to watch the streets bloom with candles and lanterns.
The ship comes to rest in the soft, wet sand of the island. “The Forest of Lights,” the gorgon says. “Be on your guard. State your business to Philon and Philon only.”
The winged plank lowers and we step off into a soft carpet of grass and sand that disappears into thick brush dotted by fat white double lotuses. The trees are so tall they disappear into a ceiling of dark green. Looking up at them makes me feel dizzy. The lights sway and move. One darts across my face, making me gasp.
“What was that?” Ann whispers, eyes wide.
“What’s happening?” It’s Felicity. Several of the lights have descended on her head. Her rapturous face is illuminated by the glowing crown.
The lights congregate into a ball that floats ahead of us, showing the way.
“It seems they want us to follow them,” Pippa says in wonder.
The luminous little sprites, if that’s what they are, take us into the forest. The air has a rich, earthy smell. Moss grows on the enormous trees like soft green fur. Looking back, I can no longer see the gorgon. It’s as if we’ve been absorbed into the forest. I’ve the urge to run back, especially when I hear the soft rhythm of hooves coming closer. The ball of light bursts, the tiny illuminations flying away pell-mell into the forest.
“What is that?” Felicity squeaks, looking around wildly.
“I don’t know,” Pippa says.
The pounding seems to come from all sides. Whatever it is, we are surrounded. It grows closer and just as suddenly stops. A band of centaurs emerges one by one from the trees. They pace uneasily on their strong horse legs, their thick arms crossed over bare man chests. The largest of the clan comes forward. His chin sports a wisp of beard.
“Who are you? What business have you here?” he demands.
“We’ve come to see Philon,” Pippa asserts. She’s being quite brave, for I’d like to run.
The centaurs exchange suspicious glances. “The gorgon brought us,” I say, hoping it will open doors.
The largest of them comes forward till his hooves are inches from my own feet. “The gorgon? What game does she play with us? Very well, then. I shall take you to Philon and let our leader decide your fate. Climb on, unless you care to walk.”
His grip is strong as he swings me with one hand up onto his broad, smooth back.
“Oh,” I say, for there is no bridle as on a horse. In fact, there is no decent place for me to hold on, and I am forced to wrap my arms around his thick waist and rest my head against the broad expanse of his back.
Without so much as a by-your-leave, he takes off at a gallop, with me holding on for dear life as we dart through trees whose branches come dangerously close. Some of them leave scratches along my face and arms, and I suspect he’s doing this on purpose. The centaurs carrying Felicity, Pippa, and Ann ride up beside me. Ann has her eyes closed and her mouth set tightly in a grimace. But Felicity and Pippa seem almost to enjoy the strange ride.
At last, we reach a clearing of thatched huts and mud houses. The centaur gives me his hand and flings me to the ground, where I fall on my backside. He puts his hands at his hips, towering over me, grinning. “Shall I help you to your feet?”
“No, thank you.” I jump up, brushing the grass from my skirt.
“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” he says, pointing to my amulet, which has worked free from beneath my blouse during the bumpy ride. “The rumors are true!” he shouts to his friends. “The Order is returning to the realms. And here they are.”
The clan moves in, surrounding our little band of girls.
“What should we do about that?” the centaur asks, rage snarling around his words. I no longer care about seeing Philon or asking him about the Temple. I only want to escape.
“Creostus!” comes a new and strange voice.
The centaurs part, back away. They bow their heads. The large one, Creostus, dips his but does not keep it down.
“What is that?” Ann whispers, clinging to me.
Before us is the most magnificent creature I have ever seen. I do not know whether it is a man or a woman, for it could be both. It is slight, with skin and hair the dusty color of a lilac bloom and a long, trailing cape made of acorns, thorns, and thistle. Its eyes are vivid green and turned up at the corners like a cat’s. One hand is a paw; the other a talon.
“Who comes?” the creature asks in a voice that is like three-part harmony, the tones distinct but inseparable at the same time.
“A witch,” the defiant centaur says. "Brought to our shores by the cursed gorgon.”
“Hmmm,” the creature says, staring at me till I feel like a naughty child facing the belt. The sharp edge of its talon lifts my amulet for inspection. "A priestess. We have not seen one of your kind in many years. Are you the one who broke the runes, the seal on the magic?”
I pull my necklace out of its reach and tuck it into my blouse again. "I am.”
“What is it you seek from us?”
“I’m sorry, I can only speak with Philon. Do you know where I might find—”
“I am Philon.”
“Oh,” I say. "I’ve come to ask your help.”
Creostus interrupts. “Do not aid her, Philon. Do you remember what it has been like for us all these years?”
Philon silences him with a glance. “Why should I help you, priestess?”
I have no ready answer for this. "Because I’ve undone the seal on the magic. Order must be restored.”
Laughing erupts among the centaurs. “Then let us be the ones to restore—and control it,” one yells. The others cheer.
“But only the Order can bind the magic and rule the realms,” Felicity says.
Philon speaks again. “That is the way it was for generations, but who is to say it must always be so? Power is fleeting. It shifts like sand.”
There are more cheers from the others. A crowd has gathered. In addition to the centaurs, the creatures of light have grown to about on
e foot tall. They hover like overgrown fireflies.
“Would you rather Circe find it first?” I say. “Or the dark spirits of the Winterlands? If they control it, do you imagine they would be generous with you?”
Philon considers this. “The priestess has a point. You may come with me.”
Creostus shouts after us. “Promise them nothing, Philon. Your loyalty is to your people first! Remember!”
Philon settles us in a grand hut and pours a goblet of red liquid. None is offered to us, which makes me trust the strange creature a bit more. For if we were to eat or drink anything here, we would have to stay, as Pippa did. Philon swirls the liquid in the goblet and swallows it. "I agree that the magic must be contained. It is too powerful this way. Some have never been exposed to its full force, and they are giddy with it. They want more and more. There is unrest. I am afraid they will enter into ill-advised alliances and doom us to enslavement. It is a threat to our ways.”
“Then you will help me find the Temple?” I ask.
“And what will you promise us if we help you?” When I do not speak, Philon smirks. “Just as I thought. The Order isn’t interested in sharing the power of the realms.”
“The gorgon said you and the Order were allies once.”
“Yes,” Philon says. "Once.”The creature circles the room with an elegant, feline grace. "The centaurs were their messengers; I, the weapons master. But after the rebellion, they kept the magic from us just as they did from all the others, though we had remained loyal. That was their thanks to us.”
I do not know what to say to this. “Perhaps there was no other way.”The creature stares at me for a long moment till I’m forced to look away.
“They’re not going to help us, Gemma. Let’s be on our way,” Felicity says.
Philon refills the goblet. "I cannot tell you where to find the Temple, because in truth, I do not know where it is. But I can offer you something. Come with me.”
We emerge into the foggy day again. Creostus stops the magnificent leader, speaking low in a language we cannot understand. But I do understand the anger in his voice, the wariness in his eyes each time he looks our way. Philon dismisses him with a curt “Nyim!”
“You cannot trust them, Philon,” the centaur spits out. “Their promises are like glamour—in time, they fade.”
Philon takes us into a low hut. The walls shimmer with an array of shining weaponry, some of which I’ve never seen. Silver lariats hang from hooks. Jeweled goblets and exquisitely wrought mirrors stand side by side.
“While the magic is loose, we are using it to return to the old ways. If we do not know the outcome, we must be prepared. You may take one weapon for your journey.”
“These are all weapons?” I ask.
“With the right spell, anything can become a weapon, priestess.”
There are so many. I don’t know where to begin.
“Oh,” Felicity gasps. She’s found a featherlight bow and a quiver of silver-tipped arrows.
“It seems the choice is made,” Philon says, handing them to her. The arrows are well crafted but unremarkable save for the strange markings on the silver tips, a series of numbers, lines, and symbols I cannot begin to understand.
“What are these?” Felicity asks.
“That is the language of our elders.”
“Magic arrows?” Ann asks, peering at the tips.
Felicity raises the bow and closes one eye against an imaginary target. “They are arrows, Ann. They shall work like any other.”
“Perhaps,” Philon says. “If you have the courage to aim and shoot.”
Felicity glowers. She turns the bow to Philon.
“Felicity!” I hiss. "What are you doing?”
“I’ve plenty of courage,” Felicity snarls.
“Will you have it when it counts most?” Philon asks coolly.
Pippa pushes the bow down and away. "Fee, stop it.”
“I’ve plenty of courage,” she says again.
“Of course you do,” Pippa soothes.
Philon regards them curiously. "We shall see.” To me it says, “Priestess, these arrows, then, are they your choice of weapon?”
“Yes,” I answer. "I suppose they are.”
“We should be leaving,” Felicity says. “Thank you for the arrows.”
Philon dips that magnificent head. “You are most welcome. But they are not a gift. They are a marker against a debt to be paid.”
I feel as if I am falling into a hole, and the more I try to dig my way out, the deeper it gets. "What sort of payment?”
“A share of the magic is what we ask, should you find the Temple first. We do not intend to live in the dark again.”
“I understand,” I say, making a promise I do not know if I can honor.
Philon walks us to the edge of the forest, where the strange glowing lights wait to take us back to the ship.
“They will all try to keep you from the Temple. You must know that. How will you protect yourselves? Have you any alliances?”
“We have the gorgon,” I say.
Philon nods slowly. “The gorgon. The last of her kind. Imprisoned on a ship for all time as punishment for her sins.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean there is much you do not know,” Philon says. "Tread carefully, priestess. There is no hiding here. Your fondest wishes, your deepest desires or greatest fears can be used against you. There are many who would want to keep you from your task.”
“Why are you telling me this? Are you loyal to the Order after all?”
“This is war,” Philon says, long purplish hair blowing across sharp cheekbones. "I am loyal to the victor.”
The lights circle and dart about Pippa’s head. She swats at them playfully. I’ve one last question before we go, though.
“The gorgon is our ally, isn’t she? She is bound to tell us truth always.”
“Bound by what? The magic is no longer reliable.” With that, the tall, thin creature turns away, its thistle cape trailing like a chain.
When we reach the shore, Creostus is there waiting for us, his arms crossed. "Did you find what you were after, witch?”
Felicity pats the quiver of arrows on her back.
“So Philon’s given you a token. What will you give us in return? Will you grant us power? Or will you deny us?”
I do not answer but climb aboard the gorgon’s winglike plank, listening as it creaks closed behind us. The wind catches the wide, translucent sail, and we move away from the tiny island till it is only a spot of green behind us. But the centaur’s raw cry follows me on the breeze, catching my breath in its fist.
“What will you give us in return, witch? What will you give us?”
We sail once more through the golden curtain and down the river. When we come again to the statues in the cliffs, to the Caves of Sighs, I see colorful smoke—reds, blues, oranges, purples—rising from high above, and I am fairly certain that I spy a figure behind the smoke. But when the wind blows, the smoke changes direction, and I see nothing but wisps of color.
A silvery fog rolls in. Hints of the shore peek through here and there, but it is difficult to see. Ann runs to the side of the ship.
“Listen, do you hear it? That lovely song is back!”
It takes a moment, but now I hear it. The song is faint but beautiful. It seeps into my veins and runs through me, making me feel warm and light.
“Look! In the water!” Ann shouts.
One by one, three bald heads emerge. They are women like none I’ve ever seen before. Their bodies shimmer faintly with luminescent scales that glow pink, brown, and peach. When they lift their hands from the water, I can see the faint webbing between the long fingers. They are mesmerizing, and I find I can’t stop staring. I feel giddy with their song. Felicity and Ann laugh and crowd the side of the boat, trying to get closer. Pippa and I join them. The webbed hands stroke the great barge as if it were a child’s hair. The gorgon does not slow. The tangled mass of
snakes hisses wildly.
Ann reaches a hand down, but she cannot reach. "Oh, I wish I could touch them,” she says.
“Why can’t we?” Pippa asks. “Gorgon, lower the plank, if you please.”
The gorgon does not answer and does not slow.
The women are so beautiful; their song is so lovely.
“Gorgon,” I say. "Lower the plank.”
The snakes writhe as if in pain. “Is that your wish, Most High?”
“Yes, it is my wish.”
The great ship slows and the plank is lowered till it hovers just above the water. Our skirts gathered in our hands, we rush out and crouch down, looking for signs of them.
“Where are they?” Ann asks.
“I don’t know,” I say.
Felicity’s on all fours, the ends of her hair trailing in the water. "Perhaps they’ve gone.”
I stand, trying to peer through the fog. Something cold and wet caresses my ankle. I shriek and wobble just as the creature’s webbed hand curves away from my leg, leaving sparkling scales on my stocking.
“Oh, no! I’ve scared it away,” I say. Its mermaid-like body slips under the plank and disappears.
The surface of the river is covered in a thick, oily sheen. After a moment, the creatures emerge once more. They seem as fascinated by us as we are by them. They bob in the small currents, their strange hands moving back and forth, back and forth.
Ann gets down on her knees. "Hello.”
One of the creatures moves close and begins to sing.
“Oh, how lovely,” Ann says.
Indeed, their song is so sweet, I want to follow them into the water and hear it forever. A crowd of them has gathered, six, then seven, then ten of them. With each addition, the song grows, becomes more powerful. I am drowning in its beauty.
One creature attaches herself to the boat. She meets my gaze. Her eyes are huge, like mirrors of the ocean itself. I look into them and see myself falling fast into the deep, where all light vanishes. She reaches up to stroke my face. Her song floats about my face.