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Chapter Eight: Astrapi and the Magos
Ilyria felt as though she had been waiting for this moment all her life. Her eyes locked onto his and she stepped forward. The Lightning Bird folded her toward him, his arms strong and steady. She felt the heat of his body and his fragrant breath on her face, “Don’t be afraid, Ilyria,” he whispered to her as her body become light and they left the ground. Her eyes never left his. She heard the powerful whoosh of his wings as they rose high up into the night air until they were enshrouded in the chill damp of the clouds. Only then did she look down below her to where Idixat was only a place of scattered lights in the vast indigo velvet of the desert. She felt unafraid, even when he wrapped his legs around hers and changed their position, holding her close to him in a lover’s embrace as he flew them both away.
Ilyria believed she must have fallen asleep in the arms of the Lightning Bird as they crossed the night sky, as improbable as that seemed. Yet she woke in the warmth of
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Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Nine: A Voiceless Song
Dirk looked directly at Ilyria. She reached again for the sensation of flickering shadows as she had done all those nights ago, desperately searching for the glamour that would conceal her but feeling it slip away from her like sand. He saw her, there was no doubt. His eyes widened and his lips parted to call out to his henchmen, but something seemed not quite right. Slow. It was all too slow. Her own movements felt trapped in thick honey, each breath came and went as measured and inexorable as the tides of the desert. Her panic, her terror of moments before felt as far as the moons. She tore her eyes away from Dirk and saw that Madame Skia had pushed herself up on one elbow. She had raised up her face to the sky and her usual thick mask of make-up wavered like a thin veil over her face. Through the veil, Ilyria saw a face of such heartrending beauty she thought it would forever be seared into her memory. Madame Skia’s mouth was open as she sang without voice.
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Ten: Not Justice
Thassa and Ilyria followed Madame Skia to her office. This time Ilyria looked carefully for even one clue to Madame Skia’s identity. Madame Skia, like Thassa, had a story and Ilyria was more than curious. Her life may depend on her understanding. Thassa was the last to enter, he closed the door behind him. Light and air streamed through the upper vents in the room and there was a feeling of pervasive calm that was not charo-induced. Ilyria took a breath. “You said I might be able to help? What do you mean? Help with what?” Madame Skia sat at her desk, her hands fluttering. Her fingers were pale and soft. Yet Ilyria was certain she had large, calloused hands with long red nails. Ilyria had the dizzying impression of seeing two things at once. Perhaps the clue to who Madame Skia was, was not in her office, but in the odd feeling that Ilyria had that whatever she thought she was looking at, it was not the real Madame Skia. “First
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Eleven: A Dance for the Princess
Ilyria and Thassa entered the palace through an unobtrusive gate further along from the palace gates. The guards there lowered their swords as soon as they saw Thassa, nodding their heads in deference. It was the first time she understood that Thassa was much more than Bonbon’s lover or Madame Skia’s unofficial security. Thassa carried real authority within the walls of the palace. She followed him into the first courtyard of the palace, looking around her at the bustle of activities taking place, relieved to be distracted from the horrors of the execution she had just witnessed. Here, people moved with purpose that felt joyful. They balanced trays overflowing with fruits on their heads; or aired bedding so overstuffed that feathers floated up into the air with each flap; or chased a small dog running off with a bone still dripping with gravy; or stole kisses in doorways; or sharpened kitchen knives while eying the kiss-stealers. She had to smile at the abundant life of it a
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Twelve: Enchantments and a Kiss
Ilyria lay sprawled against the tiles, frozen with shock. The enchantment which had sprung up around her when she first took the Princess’s hand had fallen away but her body shivered as if it were still in that cavernous space with the Princess and the eyeless man. The music had stopped, the flautist paused with the flute a breath away from his lips, his eyes on Ilyria. His tranquil absorption had been replaced by a greedy attentiveness. He lifted his arms and Ilyria saw he wore chains on his wrists. These he rattled as he opened his mouth wide to reveal the tongueless space within. The cry that emerged was that of a wretched half-creature, a bleating, savage sound that echoed within the walls of the Princess’s chamber. Ilyria expected the guardians to rush into the room. Then she remembered that they were forbidden from entering. Instead, she felt hands at once soft and strong dig into her shoulders and haul her up from the floor. The ascetic’s face w
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Thirteen: An Unlikely Ally
It was a moment without breath or movement except for the beating of their hearts and the soft strokes of the dress as it wound itself around Ilyria and Astrapi. The light from Astrapi’s wings glowed luminescent around them. Ilyria surrendered to the warmth of Astrapi’s mouth, to the ripple of muscles beneath his skin and the way her own skin sparked with sensation. He was just a boy and she a girl and if he had asked her then to stay with him, Ilyria would have answered yes with everything she had in her. But he didn’t and slowly awareness returned to Ilyria that they were not alone and not safe. She pulled away and Astrapi released her from his arms. His own eyes seemed to echo her own need. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither seemingly knowing where to begin. A clatter jarred them from their reverie. “The merchants,” said Ilyria. Astrapi dropped his wings and they stood surveying the scene. It was still much as they had lef
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Fourteen: Boots
Thassa was waiting for her outside the palace gate, as the ascetic had said. When he saw her, he seemed to sag with relief. Then he removed his hooded cloak and placed it around her shoulders. Ilyria had felt dress tiring. Now it was little more than fading rags. She wondered if it might revive with a wash and thought that perhaps with magic cloud silks, anything was possible. “Thank you,” she said, feeling terrible for him as he stood there, his scarring exposed. But neither did she look forward to walking through the streets of Idixat with her tired dress falling off her body. Even with Thassa at her side. “You have managed more than we could ever have hoped, Ilyria,” he said, “allow me to get you back to Madame Skia’s house safely.” “But I didn’t,” said Ilyria, “The Princess is enchanted.” “Yes,” said Thassa, “But you saw her. Which no one else has done in many months. Don’t talk now, we will speak with Madame Skia shortly.” Madame Skia was
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Fifteen: Between
Ilyria looked closer at the shimmering feather in Thassa’s hand. It was at once like water and like mist, pale and dark. She felt that if she looked at it long enough, it could transport her away, perhaps even to Zarmej. When she looked up, Thassa was watching her. “It is from the Lightning Bird,” he said, confirming her fear. “But you said it was from Vatra,” said Ilyria. He had made a mistake, surely? “The place of fire, Vatra, it is the home of the Lightning Bird.” “No,” she said. After all, she had seen his aerie, across the desert sands, a place of clouds and silence. Not fire. “That cannot be.” “Whatever you have seen, Ilyria, it was what he—it—wants you to see. The Lightning Bird cannot stay long here. Whenever it retreats, it is to Vatra. That is where the companions are. I am sure of it.” Ilyria grasped for a meaning but all that she could come up with was what she knew Thassa was thinking—the Lightning Bird had had a
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Sixteen: Fire and Pain
Ilyria looked around. The place was simultaneously confusing and familiar. She looked down at her feet. They sank into the soft mulch of her father’s garden, the one he kept around the back of the kitchen right next to the wall that separated them from the city. She felt a soft touch on the back of her hand as Astrapi leaned in to kiss her. Before he pulled away, he whispered “Don’t trust what you see, trust only what you feel,” then he spread his wings, and was away, over the kitchen wall. As she watched him, the kitchen wall before her shivered and faded, and she thought she saw beyond it to a hill on which colourful tents had been pitched with lights strung along the edges. A rich, fragrant smell drifted toward her from the hill—a familiar, intoxicating smell like a miasma. Chariko! Then Astrapi and the tents were gone and there was only the kitchen wall and the garden. Her father’s garden. He loved to work there, turning the soil, pulling out the invasive weeds,
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