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Chapter 23

Golden Auroras

Will and Lyra rushed down the staircase and away from the tower as fast as they possibly could, out of breath as they ran away from the old man and the scene of the accident. They stopped several feet away from the tower by the nearest building.

What had just happened? Will didn't even know anymore. He gazed down at his hand, which was still red and so very sore. He stared at where his fingers had been, and at the makeshift bandage Mrs. Coulter and the old man had made. He simply stared at it, willing his eyes to believe it and for it to finally sink in.

"That poor old man," Lyra kept saying, her voice struck with a strangled sort of passion. "Oh, Will, I wish he didn't have to do that to himself! Can't we save him?"

"Hush, Lyra," Will offered, trying to comfort her. He was surprised he could still stand, let alone run down the stairs. The brandy the man had given him helped with the pain, but it also made his head spin and feel a little woozy now. He'd never had alcohol before, which is what had probably done it. "He won't feel any pain. And it's better than the spectres, isn't it?"

"I guess," Lyra said, face still flushed as she pulled out the alethiometer. It was particularly sunny out today, and Will watched as the machine glinted pure gold in the sunlight as Lyra frantically turned the handles.

"What are you asking it?" Will wondered aloud, leaning against the building for support while looking up at the tower. Mrs. Coulter still hadn't followed them out, which made him worry a little. What was she doing up there? Was she talking further with the man?

"Trying to see if we can save him!" Lyra's daemon changed into an eagle and flew around them, agitated. He noticed the daemon always revealed more of how Lyra was feeling than she probably even realized. Will watched as Lyra gazed down at the instrument, her eyes glazed as they followed the big hand as it whirled around in circles. It was dizzying for Will to watch under normal circumstances, let alone now.

"No!" she howled, and Pan let out a sharp cry. Lyra hastily rubbed at her eyes with her sleeve for a moment before turning back to it, her brow furrowing.

"Now what are you asking?"

"About my mother," Lyra answered, her voice still shaken with her earlier sobs. Will stared again. She had only called Mrs. Coulter that a few times during all of their time together. "They just saw a spectre down there, didn't they? What's gonna happen to her?"

Will was quiet as Lyra continued to stare down at the alethiometer. He didn't know the answer to that and hoped the machine did. Lyra was very upset and he didn't think anything he could say would comfort her in this moment anyway. He tried to focus on his breathing now as he slumped down to sit on the ground. He was vaguely aware of Pan coming over to him, in the form of a tabby cat as he sniffed at him. It reminded Will of his cat Moxy, which both comforted him and made him sad, because he wondered what happened to her and if she was finding food and hanging in there alright. He was so sad and so hurt and so tired that he just wanted to cry, but he wouldn't, because Lyra was already upset and Will had to be strong for her.

After a few more minutes, Will heard shuffling come from the tower before a piercing cry from Lyra: "Mother! Watch out!"

It all happened as if in slow motion, yet too quick to even process. Will turned his head to see Mrs. Coulter exit the tower, stopping on the spot and looking over at them. Pan charged forward as a Tiger, haunches sending him off at full speed. Lyra followed, arms waving in the air, and Will simply watched as Mrs. Coulter looked over to her left and gaped at something that neither Lyra or Will could actually see.

The knife, Will remembered, struggling to stand up. His head still hurt, and ached for him to sit down again and close his eyes. The knife protects the bearer from spectres.

Despite his body's protests, Will moved forward, following Lyra and her daemon. The girl had caught up to Mrs. Coulter now and was tugging at her arm, eyes searching frantically for a threat that she couldn't find. Mrs. Coulter simply stared at something just ahead of them, head tilted slightly to the side and eyes round and wide. Her monkey daemon clung to her heels and was wailing a strange, high-pitched cry. Will thought he also heard Lyra cry out again.

And just when Will thought he was too late and everything was going to explode, it stopped, when he was a few feet away from them.

"Will!" Lyra breathed, looking from her mother to the boy as he held out the knife, pointing it toward the wide open air. "Oh, Will!"

"It won't come near it," Mrs. Coulter rasped, her blue eyes still wide as she continued to stare in front of them. Lyra was still clinging to her arm, pulling at it and gazing up at the woman with wide, fearful eyes.

"Are you sure?" the girl asked, straining her eyes to try and see ahead of them. Her guess was as uncertain as Will's was.

"Yes." Mrs. Coulter's voice sounded different now. It wasn't alarmed as it had been a few moments ago, but fascinated now, as if she were in a museum gazing at an ancient artifact. It left a strange impression on Will. He didn't know why, but he felt deep down that Mrs. Coulter's reaction now wasn't exactly normal.

"I was afraid it…I was afraid it was going to eat you!"

Lyra's voice squeaked, and Will watched as Mrs. Coulter turned back around, her face soft. Something intense battled in the woman's eyes as she leaned down to touch her daughter's face, her other hand on top of her head. She moved to swiftly kiss Lyra's forehead before murmuring something to her, pulling her into an embrace. Lyra hugged her back.

It almost felt wrong to see, in a way. Will could tell it was a special moment between the two of them, some kind of uncharted territory that both surprised and upset them. They seemed to have a rocky relationship, but when it came down to it, they were there for one another, whether they wanted to be or not. It was kind of nice, albeit tense.

Will thought about his own mother, hidden away with his teacher, and he again wanted to cry. Maybe this time he could, now that Mrs. Coulter was around to be strong.

"How far, I wonder…?" Mrs. Coulter said then, her eyes swiveling back to Will. "Will, stay there a minute."

He couldn't move even if he tried. Will slumped to the floor again, knife still out but head pounding. It was starting to catch up with him. He was aware of Lyra coming over to him now, her hands gentle as they helped him up. Mrs. Coulter was a few feet away, murmuring something to things neither child could see. They were both scared in that moment, then, hanging on to one another aware of an invisible force that could consume all living adults in its grasp.

"It's alright, dear," he heard what felt like hours later. His eyes drooping open, Will saw Mrs. Coulter looking down at him, her blue eyes bright and her face the perfect portrait of grace. "Shh. We're going to fix you up, Will, and take care of you."

It was her sweet face that Will last saw before he passed out, aware of the knife slipping from his grasp and a strong arm supporting him and moving him up.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was after several minutes that Father MacPhail was finally permitted to see the Cardinal and Lord Boreal, a guard coming through the door and ushering him inside.

The bald, hunched man was sitting at his wooden desk, brow furrowed and beetle daemon buzzing angirly in the air. Lord Boreal was sitting back on his chair easily, silver hair slicked back and snake daemon lounging luxuriously in his lap. It looked as if they were resting comfortably at home, and not at a cold, temporary headquarters in the furthest regions of the North.

"Get in here, Hugh," the Cardinal huffed. Father MacPhail felt himself frown, as he was most definitely in a foul mood with Lord Boreal's news. Which isn't your fault, his daemon reminded him, her lizard claws deep into his jacket. Remember that. Stay firm. You've done all you could. It's the woman who's a blight on the Magisterium, not you.

"Your Eminence," Father MacPhail offered, but he already knew it wasn't required, wasn't wanted, and he'd be brushed and cast aside as always.

"It seems that it's a most fortunate day for you," the Cardinal snarled as he interrupted. "Our dear friend Carlo here has news that you, after weeks, could not find yourself. Doesn't that make you feel relieved, Hugh?"

"Yes, your holiness," Father MacPhail responded, dipping his head. He'd get through this. He always did.

"And my, don't we owe so much to Carlo, for his loyalty to the Church, and the use of his most unique and special services?"

Father MacPhail knew where this was going, he thought. Something was going to be taken from him and given to Lord Boreal. What it was he wasn't sure, but he wouldn't be surprised.

"It is my honor to serve the faith, your Eminence," Lord Boreal simply said, his voice rich and smooth like honey. "And it is with my most heartfelt sorrow to have to report the news to you, that our madame has gone rogue and against the Church in this vile manner."

That surprised Father MacPhail a bit. He knew that Marisa and Lord Boreal had a close relationship, in the way Marisa liked to have close relationships with people in power. He had never been with a woman or been in love himself as a man devoted entirely to faith, but he knew how people swayed for those they cared about, how they gave up everything for lust and the sake of what they thought was love. Lord Boreal, however, didn't seem to be afflicted with it.

"Yes, that is most disappointing." The Cardinal's voice betrayed his disgust. "Although, I must have hope that she'll come to her senses, if she perhaps has a certain talking to."

It was then that the Cardinal focused on Father MacPhail again, and he gulped.

"Your Eminence?" Father MacPhail asked, not entirely following.

"I know how much interest you have in this matter," the man began, his eyes glimmering, "and how much work you've done with her. I'm therefore sending you across to deal with her."

So that was his punishment, it seemed. Eulaia swayed on his shoulders a bit, portraying the strength that was leaving him and the terror that consumed him. Father MacPhail had made it clear since they first started this Dust business that he wasn't interested in the other worlds, that he didn't want anything to do with them. He was afraid of them, to be sure, as they all should be, but he was perhaps the most insistent in his aversion to them. And the Cardinal knew that, and relished in it.

"I serve where the Authority sends me," Father MacPhail simply responded, knowing already that it was over for him. He'd never make it through. This was his sentence for a most grave sin of letting Marisa Coulter overpower and control him.

"We are pleased to hear it," the Cardinal answered, satisfaction clear on his face now. "And since he is more worldly in these manners, Lord Boreal will be your guide, and your direct line of reporting. He'll see you out now, and over to where you must go."