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Chaptery Twenty-Eight: A Game and a Gamble
Ilyria woke, gasping and fighting. She fell with a thud onto the hard floor and the pain brought her all the way out of the lost place where she had been. She sat up, rubbing her shoulder which had absorbed most of the force of the fall.
Her heart sank as she saw the perfect pale smoothness of the walls around her and realized she was still in Yxat. Still separated from her friends. Behind her was a narrow ledge on which she had been lying.
Dirk.
He must have put her there but for now, to her relief, she was alone. She struggled to stand then had to sit down again almost immediately as the dizziness threatened to overwhelm her. She had to think. So she was still on Yxat. Would Astrapi have already transported the companions, as well as Nicos and Thassa away? Would he have left her? She recalled her last words to him. She had told him they did not want his help. Nicos had tried to stop her from saying it. She should have listened. Of course they needed his hel
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Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Twenty-Nine: The True Map
Dirk/Zlo turned its face toward Ilyria. No, she thought, more Zlo than Dirk, Zlo/Dirk. Soon, only Zlo. The blurriness came into focus as a face that bore only a faint resemblance to Dirk’s. Zlo had more pointed features than Dirk. Its eyes were closer-set and darker. There was the barest trace of Dirk's cobalt-blue eyes that Ilyria’s classmates had adored. Its cheekbones were sharper and beneath them grew dark stubble Dirk would never have tolerated. It smiled at her and Ilyria fought hard against the impulse to run. She would not be a whisper, she would be a shout. “You want my map,” she said. “I can take your map any time I want,” said Zlo/Dirk, eyeing where her clothes had been flung, seeking the map. Ilyria knew then that it had only just arrived, it had not been in Yxat all along. It had not seen her arrive with Nicos and Thassa. It had not seen them rescue the companions and Madame Zia. Was it struggling to stay in Yxat because of The Law
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Thirty: Mortal Wound
Her nostrils were filled with a rancid odor of decay, her eyes blinded by the dark smoke. Ilyria dug frantically into her pocket, pulling out the Deluvian switchblade and flicking it open. She ripped it through the smoky air, her eyes squeezed shut, she slashed and turned, crying and screaming for her friends, hopeless that the knife would do anything to Zlo’s shifting form. She was shocked when the knife met resistance, but she leaned into it, her scream transforming into a shout of triumph. She had got him! She opened her eyes, even as she held fast to the knife determined it should do as much damage as possible. There was no more smoke though the rancid smell lingered. Dirk stood before her, clutching his belly, his hands on either side of hers. Her palm was fisted against his belly as though she had punched him. Perhaps that was why he looked up at her, confused. He was confused by the pain. The pain that had driven Zlo from his body. She pulled back her
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Thirty-One: Less Than One Full Moon Cycle
The light in the courtyard was a pale mauve and the air was cool. The Between Realm had distorted time but it seemed that an entire day had passed. The day of Madame Skia’s execution. Here stood Madame Skia now though, in front of Ilyria. Ilyria knew it was her and yet she did not look the same. She had been a large woman with double chins and heavy make-up. But this woman was voluptuous, ageless, and entirely free of make-up. Her silver hair lay in curls close to her head. Ilyria remembered the day when Dirk had struck her, how her form had seemed to shift before Ilyria's eyes, the wound Dirk had dealt her healing as she watched. Madame Skia allowed Ilyria to stare, smiling with something like patience. “This is who you really are?” asked Ilyria. “It is who I was,” said Madame Skia, “The other version is who I need to be here, in Idixat, working.” “But why?” Madame Skia linked her arm in Ilyria’s and began walking her toward the dining hall.
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Thirty-Two: The Hunter
Ilyria woke to a soft hand stroking her hair. She smiled her contentment as her eyelids fluttered open. “Astra- ..” Miasma, who had been leaning over her, pulled back. “Oh,” she said, then she grinned, “You have been dreaming, Kitten.” Ilyria, disappointed and angry at herself for her disappointment, rolled over grumpily. “Go away, Mia.” Instead, Miasma climbed onto the cushion behind her and snuggled into her back. “I love the dream ones the best,” she said with a sigh, “Will you tell me about him?” but before Ilyria could tell her it was none of her business, Miasma had launched into her own story of her dream suitor who was not at all how Ilyria had pictured he would be. She turned back around so she could face Miasma who was happily continuing. She had lain on her back and was gesturing with her hands to show this handsome prince of a man who was short and a little bit round and very hairy and who was just so funny and who adored Miasma, “…and I think wha
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Thirty-Three: Lost Cities and Living Relics
“Not who, my sweet,” said Nicos, then laughed when his brother growled at him not to call his woman that. He grew serious again. “Not who. What.” “The relics left by the the old Magoses,” guessed Ilyria, “The parts of themselves that they left behind. Is that it?” “Yes,” said Nicos. “The relics. If the evil Magos …” “Zlo,” said Ilyria. Each time she said its name, it became a little less terrifying to her. It had been a man called Zlo. Men can be defeated. “Yes,” said Nicos, understanding, “Zlo. If Zlo finds these relics, when the Twin Moon rises, he will have absolute control of the unnatural forces. He will have all the power of the old Magoses as well as his own. It will be a fire that consumes everything in its path.” “Enough!” said Madame Skia, rising and shaking out her skirts. “These stories are only terrifying my girls. We have work to do,” she said, “We need to plan our defense.” “But,” said Ilyria, thinking of Dirk slumped in
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Thirty-Four: The Toad-man and the Prisoner
Ilyria didn’t bother with the ‘how-did-you-do-that?’ questions. Her experiences since she had left her mother’s mansion had shown her that there was so much she did not understand that it was probably better to begin by assuming that anything was possible. The ascetic had arrived in Ilyria's glamour which was simultaneously the street outside the House of Madame Skia in Idixat and Astrapi’s aerie. “What do you want now, ascetic,” said Astrapi. He sounded wary rather than angry. Ilyria looked at him, confused by his reaction but he would not meet her eyes. “The child must come with me,” she said, “There is information about the Mogul’s whereabouts.” “Tell us here,” said Astrapi. “I cannot do that, Lightning Bird and you know why,” said the ascetic. They held out their arm, “Come, Ilyria.” They repeated. Ilyria hesitated. “I have to go,” she said to Astrapi but he was already turning away. “Then go,” he said, striding away and as he did,
Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Thirty-Five: The Woman in the Desert
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Ilyria and the Lightning Bird Chapter Thirty-Six: The Enchanted House
Ilyria was still a street away from the House of Madame Skia when she was forced to stop running by a crowd milling about in the street. She was out of breath and sweating and used her frustration to propel herself forward, bumping and pushing past people with her head lowered and muttering half-hearted excuse-mes as she went. As she neared the House, the crowd thinned and she understood why when she took a breath and coughed out a lungful of chariko. A thick fog of the spice surrounded the House. Those who were close to the House looked dazed and happy but tended to wander away, having lost interest in what had drawn them there in the first place. Light pulsed from the House, emanating from the courtyard at its centre. She guessed this was what had attracted the crowd. The chariko and the light were alarming enough. The complete silence that enveloped the House felt worse somehow. It was an absence of sound like black is the absence of color. She h
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