Read Online Delerium's Mistress: Tales of the Flat Earth Book 4 by Tanith Lee - Free Book Online
Authors: Tanith Lee
Ads: Link
she placed the die in her mouth, under her tongue for safekeeping.
She mounted the
demon horse. Her impulse told it where it should go.
It broke out
again through the island’s mist, trailing streamers of that veil, and sped over
the water to the farther shore.
All this time,
and she had never thought to do such a thing, or that she could. To be
abandoned, to be claimed, what other explanation is required?
Across demon
lands, then, past the shining city, grazing its walls with the winged wind of
their passage. None knew her, or what she did. But everything knew it. As she rode, black lightning under her and a jewel in her mouth,
Azhrarn’s daughter felt the soul of that wicked kingdom gather itself in
incoherent outrage. Through the diamond air came spoor of hatching storms. The
waters of pools and fountains ruffled and roared. Forests of trees like
spangled bones stretched out their hands to catch her flying hair, but she
struck them aside.
The entrance-exit
of Underearth she recollected. Three gates, the innermost of black fire, the
secondmost of blue steel, the outermost of agate. Beyond these, the scoured
vein of a dead volcano opening to a country of lit volcanoes—the earth’s
magmatic center.
She came to the first
inner gate.
Before her
father, the ruler there, all three gates had flung themselves wide. But before
Azhrarn’s daughter they did nothing. And the horse, reined in, snorted, and
raked the ground, now with one forefoot, now with the other. She sensed too,
this fleeing girl who was so much more than any fleeing girl, the gathering of
the thunder at her back. What now?
Under her tongue,
the die tickled her like juice from a lemon.
It reminded her
of something so obvious that she shook her hair, being unable to open her mouth
and laugh. For though the Demon was her father, her mother had been mortal, and
something besides, the child of a solar comet.
The
sun.
She said it, the fleeing
girl, with her brain only. But the authority of this inimical symbol, to which
she had such rights, and which no other here would ever seemingly conjure, was
like a blow. It crashed against the gate of black fire, searing a hole in it,
and through this hole she forced the horse to go, though it did not like to.
The gate of steel was next, and to this gate also Azhrarn’s daughter displayed
the image in her mind, and the gate recoiled, withered, and she plunged through
it. The gate of agate, a diplomat, had already prudently unlocked itself and
let her ride by without fuss.
Above her now the
funnel of the volcano, showing no light, nor suspicion of anything.
The horse was
spent. She slipped from it and let it trot away, head hanging, back through the
gates before they could heal themselves.
No longer needing
to ask questions, Azhrarn’s daughter lifted her arms and touched the cool air in
the volcanic chimney. And into it she summoned a volcanic wind, a smoldering
sail fringed with great embers. It whirled down about her and bore her aloft,
up and up and up, through the funnel, up and up and out into the sky of earth.
Earth’s was a sky
of darkness, too, underlit by the furnaces of the burning mountains. Yet in the
east miles off one mountain burned that was not a mountain. (Dawn.)
The wind, her
slave, carried her some way before, robbed of its fire-born impetus, it sank.
On the hillside where it left her, she stood and watched the dawn, Azhrarn’s
daughter. She watched alone and jealously, for she had been, it seemed to her,
a thousand years denied this sight.
The glory of a
thousand mornings in that sunrise for her, then. And the colors of the earth
blinded her and made her weep. She could endure the day as could no other demon
thing. Yet half her atoms shrank from the view that the other half of her atoms
loved, and were kindred of. She was doomed equally to search out and to eschew
the sun.
She had taken the
topaz from her mouth and left it lying on a boulder. She sought the shadow of a
rock.
They say
She mounted the
demon horse. Her impulse told it where it should go.
It broke out
again through the island’s mist, trailing streamers of that veil, and sped over
the water to the farther shore.
All this time,
and she had never thought to do such a thing, or that she could. To be
abandoned, to be claimed, what other explanation is required?
Across demon
lands, then, past the shining city, grazing its walls with the winged wind of
their passage. None knew her, or what she did. But everything knew it. As she rode, black lightning under her and a jewel in her mouth,
Azhrarn’s daughter felt the soul of that wicked kingdom gather itself in
incoherent outrage. Through the diamond air came spoor of hatching storms. The
waters of pools and fountains ruffled and roared. Forests of trees like
spangled bones stretched out their hands to catch her flying hair, but she
struck them aside.
The entrance-exit
of Underearth she recollected. Three gates, the innermost of black fire, the
secondmost of blue steel, the outermost of agate. Beyond these, the scoured
vein of a dead volcano opening to a country of lit volcanoes—the earth’s
magmatic center.
She came to the first
inner gate.
Before her
father, the ruler there, all three gates had flung themselves wide. But before
Azhrarn’s daughter they did nothing. And the horse, reined in, snorted, and
raked the ground, now with one forefoot, now with the other. She sensed too,
this fleeing girl who was so much more than any fleeing girl, the gathering of
the thunder at her back. What now?
Under her tongue,
the die tickled her like juice from a lemon.
It reminded her
of something so obvious that she shook her hair, being unable to open her mouth
and laugh. For though the Demon was her father, her mother had been mortal, and
something besides, the child of a solar comet.
The
sun.
She said it, the fleeing
girl, with her brain only. But the authority of this inimical symbol, to which
she had such rights, and which no other here would ever seemingly conjure, was
like a blow. It crashed against the gate of black fire, searing a hole in it,
and through this hole she forced the horse to go, though it did not like to.
The gate of steel was next, and to this gate also Azhrarn’s daughter displayed
the image in her mind, and the gate recoiled, withered, and she plunged through
it. The gate of agate, a diplomat, had already prudently unlocked itself and
let her ride by without fuss.
Above her now the
funnel of the volcano, showing no light, nor suspicion of anything.
The horse was
spent. She slipped from it and let it trot away, head hanging, back through the
gates before they could heal themselves.
No longer needing
to ask questions, Azhrarn’s daughter lifted her arms and touched the cool air in
the volcanic chimney. And into it she summoned a volcanic wind, a smoldering
sail fringed with great embers. It whirled down about her and bore her aloft,
up and up and up, through the funnel, up and up and out into the sky of earth.
Earth’s was a sky
of darkness, too, underlit by the furnaces of the burning mountains. Yet in the
east miles off one mountain burned that was not a mountain. (Dawn.)
The wind, her
slave, carried her some way before, robbed of its fire-born impetus, it sank.
On the hillside where it left her, she stood and watched the dawn, Azhrarn’s
daughter. She watched alone and jealously, for she had been, it seemed to her,
a thousand years denied this sight.
The glory of a
thousand mornings in that sunrise for her, then. And the colors of the earth
blinded her and made her weep. She could endure the day as could no other demon
thing. Yet half her atoms shrank from the view that the other half of her atoms
loved, and were kindred of. She was doomed equally to search out and to eschew
the sun.
She had taken the
topaz from her mouth and left it lying on a boulder. She sought the shadow of a
rock.
They say
Similar Books
