Blood Storm: The Books of Blood and Iron (21 page)

“Did you actually cross Death’s threshold like Talfi has done?”

“I . . . did not,” Aisa admitted.

“Then you will drown in the Key,” Ynara said gravely. “Danr’s half-blood heritage will protect him. Talfi has crossed Death’s threshold more than once. But you . . . you are fully human, my sister, and the Key will be your death.”

A hard line grew between Aisa’s eyes, and her mouth became a gash in her face. “I love the way you bring good news,” she said tartly. “I will bow to the inevitable.”

Danr let himself have a tiny, purely internal sigh of relief. He wanted Aisa with him, but at the same time he wanted her to stay safe. It was hot and cold in his stomach, and he was glad that the decision had been made by someone else, even if it made Aisa unhappy.

“You’ll have to take a longboat out there,” put in Captain Greenstone, who had come up behind them. “We’ve dropped anchor, and we’re goin’ no closer. That thing spawns storms and monsters and Vik knows what else.”

“You could come with us,” Talfi said suddenly. “You’re a half-blood, too.”

“Not me,” said the captain. “The
Slippery Fish
is
my
true love, and I ain’t leaving her, not even for the Obsidia. We’ll row you out and give you a long piece of rope.”

“Rope?” Danr asked.

“So you can climb back up.” Ynara touched Aisa’s cheek. “I beg you not to be angry with me, Aisa. My parents say you have earned your face. While your men are gone, we will give you one. Perhaps that will make up for it.”

And she was gone with a splash.

“Earned your face?” Danr echoed, staring over the side. “What did she mean by that?”

Aisa’s hand was on her cheek, her expression shocked, as if she had swallowed a live halibut. “How did she know? I never told anyone.”

“Know what?” Danr demanded, more than a little peevish now.

She shook her head, and the dark tresses of her hair flowed like little waves. “A long time ago, when I was first sold into slavery, a school of merfolk stopped the ship that was transporting me to Palana. One of the mermaids told me that the slavers had stolen my strength away, so I had no face. When we stayed with the orcs, I worked in the house of Grick, Lady of Grain. I fought demons from my own head, and when I won, Grick said I had earned my face. Now the merfolk said I can have my face. Will they . . . truly give me one?”

She sounded so hopeful it gently tore Danr’s heart in two. “They will! She said they would, right?”

“I hope so, Hamzu.” The words came out in a whisper. “I want to swim with them again, bare my breast, and let
my hair stream in the water behind me. I want to show my face, my good, strong face to everyone who will see it.”

Danr, who was privately trying not to stagger under the image of a bare-breasted Aisa streaming through the water, put his arm around her shoulders. “We will make it happen. Together.”

“A nice sentiment, but I cannot go with you on this part of the journey,” she said, now more sad than angry. “Do not get hurt, do not die. If you allow yourself to get hurt, I will ensure that your recovery is quite painful. And if you die, I will have to go down into Halza’s realm to haul you out by the ear.”

He barked a laugh. “You would, too.”

“Do I appear to be joking?”

“No.” He looked into her eyes, her endless brown eyes, and suddenly he didn’t want to leave, he wanted only to stay on that ship with her, and hang the rest of the world.
The world turns on petty desires,
whispered Death in his head, or maybe it was the memory of her words.

“I will at least accompany you to the edge of the Key,” Aisa said with folded arms. “I did not come all this way to miss seeing it.”

“Then come,” Danr said heavily.

They boarded the longboat—Danr, Talfi, Aisa, and the golem, whom they still couldn’t shake. Danr considered giving it a good shove, but the Obsidia, who were watching everything through this golem’s mate, might decide to hurt Ranadar or Kalessa if he did. Eight men and women came along to row. Years of working as a thrall made Danr feel he should help with the oars instead of sitting like a lump, but he knew nothing about boats and would just get in the way, so he crouched low and tried not to notice how much more than the ship the longboat rolled up and down. And his hands ached.

“Nervous?” Talfi asked him.

“Yes,” he said truthfully. “Why?”

“You’re crushing the gunwale.” Talfi pointed, and Danr realized his fingers were white around the wooden rim. He forced himself to ease up, and the ache abated. Fortunately, the sailors knew their job and they reached the edge of the Key in short order.

The closer they got, the calmer the sea became, until it was like rowing across a pond. Danr stared down into the clear water and with that came the sickening idea that they were floating over thousands of feet of nothing. There was no bottom, nothing below but unforgiving ocean water. Before he could consider further, the sailor in charge of the rowing—Danr never did catch her name—called for a halt. The other sailors back-rowed furiously for a moment, and the boat stopped. Danr clapped his hand on his hat and raised his head.

They reached the edge. The water changed color here at a clear, sharp boundary. It was dark blue beneath their boat, and a blue-white a few yards past. The blue-white Key spread out before them, a great flatness that ate the horizon. Although the surface was flat, the Key seemed as bubbly as a child’s bath. Danr caught his breath in amazement. The . . . liquid? . . . somehow swirled with sediment and bubbles and even light, all without creating a ripple on the surface. His hands now ached to touch it. It was only a yard from the front of the boat now, and he could just about do it. The wonder of it quickened his heartbeat. Talfi and Aisa, meanwhile, moved to the prow for a better look. Even the golem came, probably so the Obsidia could see, and that made Danr grind his teeth. Danr and his friends had earned this incredible, amazing sight, and the Obsidia were getting it for nothing.

“It’s hard to believe this is the Sundering,” Talfi breathed.

“It’s also the place all those storms come from,” the sailor in charge reminded him. “So we need to hurry along before a great bloody tempest pops out of that thing. Sometimes you get waterspouts, you know.”

“Where’s the rope?” Danr asked. A great coil looped around the bottom of the boat. One end was tied to the prow. Danr picked up the free end.

“If it looks like we’re being dragged in, I’m cutting it,” the sailor said.

Danr nodded. “You have the ink, Talfi?” he asked for the fifteenth time.

Talfi, who was wearing a backpack, wordlessly pulled the bottle out, showed it for the fifteenth time, and replaced it.

“Then we’re off,” Danr said, and gave Aisa one last look. She nodded, and he tried to steel his heart, but suddenly he couldn’t leave her. Not now, not ever. And a new thought was forming in his mind.

“What is it?” Talfi asked, seeing his expression.

“Look,” he said slowly. “Maybe this isn’t the best idea after all. How about we turn back?”

“Ranadar!” Talfi said insistently. “And Kalessa! The Obsidia—”

“It’s kind of occurred to me that we’re only doing what the Obsidia say because they’re threatening to kill Ranadar and Kalessa. But if they actually
do
it, they lose their hold on us, which means we’d be completely free to hunt them down and destroy them. Not only that, Hector said he hated giving people a choice. No, they won’t kill Ranadar and Kalessa because they’ll lose their hold on us.”

“An interesting idea,” Aisa said, “if we are willing to bet our friends’ lives.”

Danr dropped the rope and turned to the golem, boring his gaze into the golem’s glassy stare. “It’s true, isn’t it? You won’t hurt Ranadar or Kalessa. Not really. You need us too much. Maybe we’ll just turn this boat around and come back to—”

“Attention! Attention!” said the golem. “New orders received.” With that, the golem picked Aisa up and flung her straight into the
Key.

T
alfi watched in horror as Aisa vanished into the Key. Danr shouted and dove after her. Of course he would. The boat rocked, and the startled sailors flailed with their oars to steady it. Danr hit the Key and disappeared without even a splash. Talfi only hesitated half a moment himself and leaped after both of them with his heart in his mouth. Just before he hit the surface, he caught a glimpse of the golem staring after him with implacable eyes.

Warm water closed in around him, filled his ears and mouth. But it wasn’t water. It felt greasy like melted lard, but billions of tiny bubbles bumbled against his skin with a faintly crisp sensation. He couldn’t see for all the bubbles, in fact. His body also felt strangely buoyant, more buoyant than it did in water.

Talfi swam grimly downward. He had to find them, even if the task was hopeless. He couldn’t see, and he was groping around, hoping against hope to find them by touch. And what would he do if he grabbed Danr? He couldn’t pull someone that heavy to the surface. Aisa had probably already sunk to the bottom. She was drowning right this
moment, in a panic, while Talfi was up here, flailing stupidly.

Don’t think about that,
he told himself.
Just search. Find one of them. Both of them.

He dropped farther underwater, trying to see through the bubbles. His pack weighed him down and his lungs were beginning to complain. Still he swam, pushed on by fear over Aisa and Danr. They were his closest friends, and he wouldn’t let them die. Or was Danr in danger? He was a half-blood and able to survive here—somehow. Aisa wasn’t. She would drown. Come to that, how was Talfi himself supposed to survive? He couldn’t die, not until he ran out of however many days Death had given him, but did that really mean he wouldn’t die down here? If he did, what would happen to him?

The bubbles closed in, effectively blinding him. His lungs ached for air. He glanced up, but he couldn’t tell how far away he was from the surface. Then an undertow caught him and yanked him downward. Talfi flung up a hand, reaching for the surface in terror, but the light was fading around him.

You can’t die,
he told himself.
You’re the boy who can’t die.

And what would happen if he died and returned to life down here? Would he spend an eternity of days drowning and coming back and drowning and coming back? Death would be kinder. Ranadar would never learn what happened to him.

His chest hurt, and he wanted air more than anything while the water closed its gentle, relentless embrace around him. His heart was a sledgehammer in his ears. At last the need became too great and he couldn’t stop himself. Air burst from his chest. For a tiny moment it felt as though he was breathing normally. Everything would be fine. Then
he was forced to inhale. It was horrendous. Oily water flooded his mouth and nose. He tried to cough, but he had no air to cough with.

Good-bye, Ran,
he thought, praying that somehow Ranadar could hear him.
Nine Gods, I never thought—

He inhaled again and tried to cough again. This time it was . . . different. Not as bad. It even seemed as though he was breathing, just a little. Automatically, he exhaled and inhaled again. The oily water bubbled through his chest. It felt nothing like air. It was heavy, and he could feel it moving in and around his lungs in a sensation that was both sickening and sweet. His need for air lessened. He breathed the strange water again. His head cleared and his body seemed almost . . . normal. Talfi hung there in the dark, not sure what to think.

Neither air nor water nor earth,
he thought, and relief swirled through him. Danr was certainly discovering the same thing even now. But what about Aisa?

Now that Talfi wasn’t panicking about himself, he was able to take better stock. He could breathe after a fashion, good. The undertow was still pulling him downward. No—it wasn’t an undertow. He was falling. The water wasn’t dense enough to hold him up, and he was falling farther and farther down. Every other time he had gone deep underwater, he felt the pressure against his ears and his stomach, and he had heard stories about people diving too deep and their eardrums bursting. There was no pain or pressure, though. Maybe inhaling the water or whatever this was dealt with that problem. All right, then—maybe he could get through this.

Beneath him, he saw a faint green glow. He fell a little faster, though not nearly as fast as he would fall in open air. The glow grew brighter. It was luminescent, like mushrooms. A gentle current pushed Talfi down toward it,
and he decided it would be better to go along with it instead of fight it. The same current had probably taken Aisa and Danr. He spread his arms in an attempt to control his fall, both relishing the strangeness of breathing underwater and trying not to worry about both his friends.

No. One friend. Best not to worry about Aisa. She was certainly dead by now. The thought punched him cold in the stomach, and a lump of grief thickened his throat. Danr would be devastated. Talfi wouldn’t be far behind. Aisa was one of the few people he remembered clearly. He had been there that wonderful day in Xaron when she emerged from the shadows with her face uncovered, and he had seen Danr’s joy at the sight of her simple beauty. She had been there that awful day he came back to life among the orcs, and had explained who he was. That terrible day the elf king had murdered him for the second time, Aisa helped him regain part of his memory. She had accepted his status as
regi
and his love for Ranadar without batting an eye, and for that he would have trotted across hot lava for her. Sarcastic and witty and just a little nasty—Aisa was always there, and Talfi loved her for it. Not in the way Danr did, but he loved her nonetheless, and the thought of her drowning because of the Obsidia’s golem jolted him with fury even as it crushed him with sadness.

The glow spread out, bigger and brighter now. It illuminated a regular pattern. It was like looking at a map drawn in green ink. With a start, Talfi realized he was dropping steadily toward a ruined city, one covered in luminous green plant life. Streets and wrecked stone buildings formed the spokes of the world’s biggest broken wheel. Talfi was drifting toward the outer rim. In fact, he was rushing toward it now. Talfi backpedaled, trying to slow himself down, but the current swept him toward it. He was coming at the stone street at an angle, too fast. In
desperation Talfi spread his arms and legs wide, trying to put up as much resistance as possible. It worked, at least a little. He slowed slightly, and hit. Talfi bounced and rolled, feeling every slippery stone pound along his body. He all but slammed into a wall so hard it knocked him breathless, or whatever that meant here underwater. At least he had stopped.

He leaned against the slick wall and tried not to pant. The water slid in and out of his lungs, making him uncomfortably aware of his breathing. It also occurred to him that he could see. The bubbles had disappeared.

“That’s a luck,” he said aloud without thinking. To his surprise, he heard his own voice, just as he might on land. He tried again. “Heigh-ho! Nice day! Danr!”

There was no echo, but the sound was otherwise clear. He shouted a bit longer, but got no response. The water was a constant presence, tugging at him, shoving him gently or insistently, forcing him to grab at the wall to stay in place. Luminescent slime covered his hand and made a trail in the water when he pulled away. Carefully, he edged around the wall and half walked, half swam into what he supposed was a street.

Rotten stone buildings covered in waving plant life stared at him with their empty windows. Many of them had fallen over or disintegrated into piles of rubble. Doors and shutters had long rotted away, but other objects remained. A cracked pot perched precariously on a stone bench. Empty circles of stone showed where trees had once shaded the streets. A doll’s head stared emptily up from a blanket of glowing green slime. Sections of the building and block had been utterly destroyed, and other sections looked untouched, except for the glowing slime that grew everywhere. Often parts of the ground felt spongy, and Talfi remembered that Stane who came here
were supposed to drop to the center of the world. Everything was desolate, abandoned, dead.

And something else was missing.

“Fish,” he said aloud. The place was empty of marine life. Maybe they couldn’t survive here. That made him think of Aisa again, and the grief hit him. He had to find Danr and look for Aisa’s . . . body. Then they still had to look for Grandfather Wyrm. It all seemed overwhelming, especially now that Talfi was by himself.

The current pushed at Talfi, and he drifted down the street. He often felt that way, as if he was drifting through the world, with nothing to anchor him. He had no past, no family, no real memories of who he was. He didn’t even know if Talfi was his real name. Talfi the drifter. But this place . . . this was the place where he had died the first time. Maybe he’d been born here.

The dread tightened his skin again. He didn’t really want to know if this had been his home.

None of it looked familiar, at least. He touched the amulets at his throat, the leather pouch Danr had given him and the silver medallion with the Iron Axe on it. Death had shown him his first death in images, and watching it had been like letting someone grope inside his chest with a hand of ice, but it hadn’t triggered any memories, thank Olar. The only thing he got was a vague sense of metal clashing on a battlefield, and screams, and blood. And then it was water, all kinds of water.

“Danr!” he called. “Danr, where are you?”

No answer. His voice sounded dead, and the buildings stared back at him. Talfi swam-walked farther down the street, leaving footprints in green slime. What now? Maybe he should find Grandfather Wyrm on his own. He could
find the power of the shape and bring it back to rescue Ranadar before—

A cold hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him sideways into a cracked house. Talfi’s heart all but leaped out of his chest and he twisted in the grip, frantic. A toothy face came into view. Talfi tried to fight, but the water slowed his reactions.

“It’s me, you oafus maloafus,” Danr said. “Quit yelling!”

Talfi relaxed, though it took some time for his heart to slow. Now that his eyes were adjusting, he could see the outline of his friend, and a little cloud of happiness burst over him. “Vik! I thought you were . . . how did you . . . ?”

“I’m all right.” Danr patted him roughly on the shoulder. “But keep it down, yeah?”

Talfi hated to ask, but he had to know. “Did you find . . . Aisa?”

“I did.”

Another voice said, “He did.” From behind Danr’s massive form stepped Aisa herself. Even in the dim light, she looked perfectly well. Her dark hair floated in a cloud around her face.

Talfi gaped, then swept Aisa into a fast hug. It was a strange thing to do this underwater. “Aisa! You’re . . .”

“Not feeding fish, yes,” she said, gently freeing herself. “Not yet, anyway. Look!” She inhaled and exhaled pointedly. “Ynara was wrong. I did not need to cross Death’s threshold to walk between worlds. Though I believe there must be less exciting ways to learn this.”

“The Obsidia tried to kill you.” Danr cracked his knuckles, a strangely crunchy sound underwater. “I won’t forget that.”

“Hector must have decided we were making a choice,”
Aisa said. “He had the golem throw me into the Key, knowing you would follow.”

“I’ll give him a choice,” Talfi muttered. “Vik or Halza.”

“Hmm. I am planning to make him choose between his left and right testicle.” Aisa produced a knife and tapped it against her palm.

“We can do both,” Talfi said.

“I look forward to it.”

“Not so loud,” Danr warned.

“Why?” Talfi asked. “What’s wrong with—?”

In answer, Danr clamped a hand over his mouth and pointed at the door. A long, scaly form glided silently up the broken street. A toothy head big enough to bite a horse in half swayed above powerful-looking flippers. Talfi’s eyes went wide and he tried to gasp around Danr’s hand. The creature lashed past them with its powerful tail and was gone.

“Quiet, yes,” Talfi gulped. “That’s the way to go.”

“When I first landed, I saw bigger ones,” Danr said, eyeing the door. “And stranger. A four-headed turtle the size of a house. A thing that looked like an octopus fighting with a tree.”

“I haven’t seen any fish down here,” Talfi said. “What do they eat?”

“Each other,” Aisa said. “Did the bottle break, Talfi?”

Fear twinged through Talfi and he yanked his backpack off to check. To his relief, the bottle of ink was still in it, corked and undamaged. “That would’ve been difficult.”

“You do enjoy your drama,” Aisa said. “We should go. Carefully.”

They crept out of the building like shy minnows and slipped down the street. Talfi twisted his head in every direction, watching for monsters. They could come from above, too, and that made it worse. He couldn’t die, but he
didn’t relish the thought of being eaten alive and returned to life afterward.

“Stick to the walls.” Danr picked his way over some rubble.

“Does any of this look familiar to you?” Aisa asked.

Talfi shook his head. “I’m not sure I want it to. All these people.” He gestured at the ruined city. “Ripped to pieces. I still can’t believe I was there. That I . . . caused it.”

“You did not cause this,” Aisa said stoutly. “The Stane did.”

“The Stane thanks you,” Danr put in.

“He makes a joke!” Aisa poked him. “He thinks he is funny.”

“Her sarcasm returns,” Danr shot back. “I don’t—”

From around the corner rushed a terrible shape. All Talfi saw was a wide mouth and serrated teeth and dead black eyes. Then Danr was there. He caught the creature—it was a lean shark with a mane of suckered tentacles, and it was at least ten feet long. Danr had grabbed its snout in one hand and its lower jaw in the other. The shark thing twisted its head, wrestling with Danr. The tentacles lashed at him, and a cloud of slimy silt rose from the ocean floor.

Aisa didn’t hesitate. She leaped in with her knife, slashing at the tentacles. Three of them wrapped around Danr’s arms and body. Talfi had no knife, and he cast about for something to do. Danr gritted his teeth and strained. The shark thing shook its head again and tried to bite at him, but Danr’s arms bulged and the shark couldn’t close its mouth. Blood tanged the water. Talfi snatched up a sharp bit of rock from the ground and tried to move for the shark thing. His motions were slowed by water. It was like moving in a dream.