The Sweet Far Thing (Gemma Doyle #3)

The Sweet Far Thing (Gemma Doyle #3) Page 115

“This was many generations ago,” she says, briefly closing her eyes. “All feared the Winterlands creatures and the chaos they brought, and so, when the Order’s power began to rise, we welcomed it. The Order brought the tribes together, and for a time, the tribes flourished, the gardens blossomed; in your world men were influenced, history was made. But still the Winterlands creatures rode, drawing more souls to their side. The Order sought to stop the threat by taking greater control.

“There were small concessions at first. Certain freedoms were denied, for our own good, we were told. Our own powers atrophied from lack of use. And the Order grew stronger.”

I interrupt. “I’m confused. I thought the Order was good, that the magic was good.”

“Power changes everything till it is difficult to say who are the heroes and who the villains,” she replies. “And magic itself is neither good nor bad; it is intent that makes it either.”

The castle hums with music and laughter. The light shining from the windows does not quite reach us. Gorgon and I sit in our pool of shadows.

“The discontent festered,” Gorgon continues after a pause. “There was a rebellion, every tribe fighting for its own survival without a care for the others. In the end, the Order won the day, but not without cost. They no longer allowed the tribes to draw magic from the runes. The creatures in your world were stranded there. And my people…” She trails off, her eyes closed tightly as if she is in pain. Long minutes pass with nothing but the music drifting from the castle.

“Your people were lost in the battle,” I say, because I can stand the silence from her no more.

Gorgon’s eyes are downcast. “No,” she says in a voice sadder than I have ever heard. “Some remained.”

“But…where are they? Where did they go?”

Gorgon lowers her great head, and the snakes hang like willow branches. “The Order meant to make an example of me.”

“Yes, I know. And so they imprisoned you in the ship and bound you to only tell truth to them.”

“True. But that was later, as punishment for my sin.”

A weight settles into my stomach, pulling it down. Gorgon has never told me this, and I am not certain I want to know it now.

“I was a great warrior then. A leader of my people. And proud.” She spits the word. “I would not have us living as slaves. We were a warrior race, and death was the honorable choice. Yet my people agreed to the priestesses’ terms of surrender. That was not our code. I was shamed by their choice, and my rage became my righteousness.” Her head lolls back as if her face seeks a sun that is not there.

“What happened?”

Restless in their sleep, the snakes of her hair slither over one another. “While the Order slept, I employed the very charms I had used against so many of my enemies. I enthralled my people, held them in a trance. I turned them to stone, and one by one, they fell to my sword. I killed them all, no quarter given. Not even to the children.

“My crime was discovered. As I was the last of the gorgons, the witches would not execute me. Instead, they bound me to this ship. In the end I lost my freedom, my people, and my hope.”

Gorgon opens her yellow eyes, and I turn my head, afraid to look upon her face now that I know the truth.

“But you’ve changed,” I whisper. “Haven’t you?”

“It is the scorpion’s nature to sting. Just because he has no opportunity doesn’t mean that he cannot.” The snakes wake, crying, and she soothes them to sleep with a gentle rock of her head. “As long as I remain on this ship, I shall be safe. That is my curse and my salvation.”

She turns her yellow eyes toward me, and though I do not mean to, I avert my own.

“I see my tale has changed your opinion of me after all,” she says with a touch of sadness.

“That isn’t true,” I protest, but it sounds false.

“You should return to the party. They are your friends, and it seems merry enough.” She lowers the creaking plank and I scramble over it and into the light dusting of snow at the shore.

“I will not see you for a while, Most High,” Gorgon says.

“Why? Where are you going?”

From the corner of my eye, I see her arching her majestic head toward the sky over the Winterlands. “Far down the river, farther than I have yet gone. If something is at hand, I’ll not be caught unawares. You must guard yourself.”

“Yes, I know. I hold all the magic,” I answer.

“No,” she corrects. “You must guard yourself because we would not lose you.”