Chapter 45
Emmeric
It took them another two days to reach a port city, the snow steadily melting the further south they ventured. There was still a cold bite to the air, reminding them all that winter was approaching. Emmeric, especially, was happy to leave the snow behind. Tempers were flaring between them all as the cold had settled into their bones, and their food supply was diminishing. A town promised an inn, with a warm bed and hot food. Emmeric would’ve given his left arm for a bath. Even the unflappable Kaz was uncharacteristically moody.
The city of Curth was large compared to other towns and villages throughout Athusa, but this was home to the empire’s entire source of fish. There were plenty of jobs as fisherman, couriers, cooks, and innkeepers to house all the merchants that would come and go. Small children were used as messengers, running between the stalls and legs of adults. There was a hustle to Curth which reminded Emmeric of Athusia, only with a strong odor of fish, and it made him long for home. While his life in the capital wasn’t ideal, it was where he”d grown up, where he’d met Talon, and where his parents had died. He hoped he would return home before winter solstice. Emmeric, Talon, and his parents always ventured into the city for the festival, then exchanged gifts quietly at home while drinking mulled wine and eating pumpkin pie. It was Emmeric’s favorite time of year.
Exactly thirteen shipping companies were propositioned to ferry them to the Dead Lands and they were emphatically denied by twelve—doors slammed in their faces or laughed out of the establishment—before one captain said he would. For the right price, of course. Altair handed over the coin, and the group was told to be ready in an hour. Emmeric reluctantly admitted it was handy having someone who could simply conjure money.
The ship sat in the bay, dusty white sails blowing in the wind. She was named The Rusty Maiden, which didn’t exactly instill confidence. It appeared to be old, but sea-worthy, and large enough to house them all without the risk of getting sick of each other. The likeness of a siren decorated the bow—long, flowing hair covered bared breasts, the tail of a fish instead of legs, and a terrifying visage full of teeth. The man who captained her was old and gnarled with a stooped back. He was balding, with gray hair fringing his ears, and whiskers instead of a full beard on his wrinkled face. A life at sea had tanned his skin into leather, and his hands appeared arthritic, with enlarged knuckles and crooked fingers. But most notably, the man only had one bright hazel eye, the other simply an empty socket a shade of pink Emmeric would love to never see again in his life. Emmeric didn’t want to ask how he’d lost the other one. Kaz had no such compunction and asked while brazenly staring.
The captain, who introduced himself as Roq (like rock, he’d grunted), smiled widely at the shifter. Many of his teeth were missing, and those that remained wouldn’t be there for long. “I was reelin’ in a marlin as big as a house,” he said, his voice barely a rasp. “I fell overboard, and the fucker poked me right in me eye. But I held on, I did, and slit its throat with the knife I always keep in me boot. Then I swam it back to the Maiden and hauled it on board. All with me bare hands.”
Kaz’s brown eyes were wide. A portly woman with similarly tanned skin to Roq, who could only be his wife, joined them on the dock, handing her husband a full satchel. “That story changes every time you tell it, you old coot.” She looked over at Kaz with a wink. “Truth is, the fool got a little too in his cups at the tavern one night and tripped on his way home. He poked out his eye with the damned knife he keeps in his boot. Not even sure why you was carryin’ it.”
“I told you I was bein’ robbed, woman!”
She rolled her eyes. “All fuckin’ lies, if you ask me.”
“Well, nobody asked you, you old witch.” As the married couple continued bickering, the team brought their meager belongings onto the ship. They’d found a stable willing to house the horses for an indefinite amount of time, but the price they asked for sounded insane to Emmeric. Again, at least the arrogant star was useful for something.
True to his word, Roq got them on open water within an hour. It was a freeing feeling, sailing away from the mainland. Emmeric’s troubles slipped from his shoulders, and he vowed to leave them on the continent.
He’d been petulant during the latest portion of their journey, training with Iyana but not talking to her. He tried to get through to Talon, but he wasn’t talkative, either. The only person he could talk to was Kaz. They had discussed their ‘arrangement,’ deciding to stay friends without extra benefits. It’d be easier, keep emotions from getting muddled. Emmeric also apologized for staying behind at the library. He had realized he’d hurt his friends by making that selfish choice. While he didn’t regret his extra time with the books, he was sorry he’d been careless and gotten captured. His friends shouldn’t have had to come to his rescue, and it was something he would chastise himself for because now Zane was gone. All direct consequences of his choices.
Hopefully they’d be able to find the amulet quickly, return to the mainland, defeat Uther, save Zane, and everyone would be home in time for solstice. Wasn’t that some wishful thinking? He would let Iyana choose Altair, and Emmeric would walk away from her without looking back. Something panged inside him at the thought of never seeing the infuriating woman again.
It hadn’t taken long for Iyana to lose all her color, turning an impressive shade of green matching the algae on the hull, and begin vomiting over the side of the ship. Altair held her hair back from her face. Between episodes of retching, Iyana had managed to grit out that she could make a potion to help herself, but all her stuff was in their guest cabin. Altair had swept her into his arms and carried her below deck. They didn’t reemerge for several hours. Emmeric tried to keep his mind off of the activities they might do once Iyana cured her sea-sickness.
He didn’t want to imagine Altair touching Iyana’s lithe, tan body, palming her full breasts, kissing her impertinent little mouth. Or Altair coaxing out those sweet little noises Emmeric unfortunately knew she was capable of making. He most definitely didn’t want to think about the star tasting her. Or Iyana returning his touches by caressing or licking Altair’s—
Emmeric shook his head. That was not a healthy road to wander down.
Instead, he sought out Talon, who was standing at the stern of the ship watching the continent shrink until it was swallowed by the ocean. His red waves blew in the wind, tangling together, his eyebrows pinched together. Emmeric hated seeing his larger-than-life best friend reduced to this sad, forlorn person. He rested his arms on the railing and stared as the gray seas and sky passed them by silently.
“Talon, I—” he started.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Talon ran a hand through his hair.
“Tal…I knew you were spending time with Zane, but I hadn’t realized how close the two of you were.”
“Of course you didn’t!” Talon whirled towards Emmeric. “If you would focus on something other than your own shit for once in your godsdamned life, then you would have noticed. Or I would feel like I could confide in you.” Talon’s usually vibrant blue eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, deep purple circles underneath them showing the toll the past few days had on him.
Emmeric frowned, his heart sinking with Talon’s harsh words. “I realize you’re hurting, man, but when has everything been about me? You and I have always been there for each other. And, yeah, there happens to be a fuckton of shit happening in my life at the moment. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying more attention to yours.”
“I committed treason for you!”
“With me,” Emmeric corrected. “Look, I can’t thank you enough for standing by my side. Rescuing Iyana and then me. And I’m so, so sorry we left Zane behind, but you need to realize we would all be dead if we had gone back out there. At least this way we have a chance.” Guilt gnawed at his conscious, especially seeing how much Zane’s loss had affected his friend.
“I didn’t plan for this, Em,” he said, quieting some, staring out across the endless ocean. “Zane is a different person outside of the castle when he’s away from his father.”
“I know. I actually started liking the bastard.” The corner of Emmeric’s lip curled in the beginnings of a smile, but it died as tears streamed down Talon’s freckled face.
“I love him, Emmeric,” he whispered.
“Oh, Tal.” Emmeric wrapped his friend in a crushing hug. Talon gripped the back of Emmeric’s shirt and cried into his shoulder. Sobs racked his body, and Emmeric held his friend through his grief. In all of their twenty-eight years together, neither of them had admitted to loving a romantic partner. Emmeric believed it wasn’t because they didn’t want to tell the other, but simply because they had never actually loved anyone in such a capacity. He held Tal tighter.
“I love him, and we left him,” Talon said, his voice cracking. “Who knows what Uther is subjecting him to, and we left him.”
Emmeric pulled Talon back and rested their foreheads together, a firm hand behind Tal’s head to anchor him. “I understand, brother. Really, I do.” He sighed, continuing in a murmur, “I’d be acting the same if it were Iyana.”
“You love her.” It wasn’t a question.
“I do,” Emmeric whispered. He and Talon separated, and he swiped a hand over his face. “But nothing I can do about it. So, we can forget my shit, and I promise we’ll do everything possible to get Zane back, okay?”
Talon nodded, wiping away his tears. With a deep breath, he composed himself. “Thank you,” he mumbled.
Emmeric clapped him on the shoulder. “Now let’s go spar and work out these feelings like men by hitting each other with swords.” Talon even smiled a little, and Emmeric mentally patted himself on the back. He hoped his best friend pulled it together before the Dead Lands. It wasn’t a place to go into with your mind clouded.
It took five days to traverse the Aptua Ocean. One of the gods must have favored them, because they only encountered smooth seas the entire journey. Emmeric had fallen into a routine—a run around the ship at dawn, breakfast, spar with Talon, lunch, train with Iyana, dinner, and then games with Kaz and Talon to round out the evening. Altair and Iyana occasionally joined in the games, but most of the time they were recluses in their cabin. Emmeric was glad his own cabin was nowhere near theirs, so he didn’t hear how they occupied their time.
Kaz was scarily good at poker, and after her first two wins, Talon and Emmeric insisted they no longer played strip poker as they both sat in their undershorts while the shifter remained fully clothed. Soon they had to branch out into other card games, which she also won, and then Emmeric devised a game of his own invention that would be impossible for her to win, but she demolished them yet again. After that, the games lost their charm, so they would hang out in Emmeric’s room chatting while Kaz braided Talon’s hair. It was the most normal Emmeric had felt in a while.
All too soon, Roq announced they would arrive at the Dead Lands within a couple of hours and to ‘get yer shit ready.’ Emmeric was finishing packing when he heard the anchor splash into the water, and the ship tilted to the side for a moment. When he arrived back on deck, still not mentally prepared to venture into the Dead Lands, there was no land near them at all. The others were still busy readying their belongings.
“I ain’t gonna take me ship any closer than this,” Roq told him. “You lot can take the rowboat the rest of the way, and I want it returned to me, you hear?”
Emmeric readjusted his pack on his shoulder, squinting into the distance. He thought he could see maybe a tiny sliver of land at the edge of the horizon. This should be fun. “Will you wait here for us?”
Roq shook his head. “I don’t know what business you got bein’ here, and I don’t wanna know. I ain’t gonna stick around to find out.”
“How are we going to get back?” Emmeric asked, his heart picking up its pace.
“Not my problem.” Roq shrugged and busied himself with a length of rope. “But I expect that boat returned in the condition I gave it to you.”
Emmeric turned to the rest of the group as they arrived on the deck. “Captain Roq here says we need to row the rest of the way in, and he’s not waiting for us.”
Iyana’s eyes widened. She turned to Altair. “How are we getting out of the Dead Lands, then?”
“We’ll figure something out,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t fret, my star.”
Roq helped them lower the rowboat into the water, and they all climbed down. “The Dead Lands be that way,” Roq said, pointing off to his left. “Gods be with you.” Emmeric swore the gnarled captain almost looked concerned for them.
They took turns rowing, the haunted wasteland creeping closer inch by inch. It still was several hours of hard labor; Roq undoubtedly did not want to be anywhere near the vicinity of the cursed land. Tensions ran high, and all five of them became quieter and stiffer as they approached. The sky steadily turned from the gray they’d been under for almost a week to a brown haze, blotting out the sun. Their little boat drifted ashore on eerily calm waters, as though even the waves wouldn’t dare crash into this place.
Stepping onto the shore, Emmeric took in his surroundings. Muted tones of brown stretched as far as the eye could see—from the cracked dirt that made up the entire ground, to the spindly dead trees and shrubs, up to the sky. There was no wind, no smell. All was still. The normal sounds of life humans expected to hear—birds chirping, leaves rustling in the wind, the babbling of a creek—were all conspicuously absent. Even the water lapping onto the dead ground was silent. There were no signs of life anywhere.
“Love what they’ve done with the place,” Kaz said with her hands on her hips, taking in the view. Emmeric almost winced at the sudden noise within the silence. Iyana had her arms wrapped around herself like they could ward herself from the sinister quality of the Dead Lands.
“It wasn’t always this way,” Altair said softly. It seemed even the star felt ill at ease.
“What happened?” Iyana asked.
“When the gods were still awake, this land thrived. It was known as Katran, and its last ruler was King Percival. Percival had a daughter, Adete, and it was said she was the most beautiful woman in all of Arinem—perhaps even the world. She had many suitors but turned them all down. They weren’t handsome enough, or rich enough, or skilled enough with a sword. Percival let his beloved daughter have her say in marriage and promised he would never force her to marry a man she didn’t want.
“One day, a large man swaggered into King Percival’s castle, a broadsword strapped to his back, and demanded Adete’s hand in marriage. Percival informed him no man could make such a demand, and the choice was his daughter’s. The stranger immediately caught her attention—his appearance, his confidence. But she didn’t want to appear too eager, so she devised a set of tasks, and if he completed all three, she would marry him. He accepted the challenge. His first task was to hunt down the umbraserpent—an oversized, burnt orange snake with fangs longer than a man is tall, dripping with venom—which was terrorizing their outer villages. It would kill the men and kidnap the women, bringing them back to its lair. None of the women were seen again. The stranger hauled in the head of the umbraserpent only one day later, all the missing women filing into the castle behind him. Now, Adete was ready to forget the other tasks and marry the man right then, but her father was suspicious. They’d sent multiple knights, some of their best, to defeat the serpent, and the beast had slaughtered them all. He encouraged his daughter to assign the man two more tasks.
“His second task was to retrieve an ancient sword that had been sitting at the bottom of a deep lake for centuries. It was rumored the blade had been forged by Arjun, God of Light, and its wielder would be undefeatable in battle. The stranger dove into the icy depths, completely naked. After five minutes had elapsed, they believed him to be dead. Adete’s disappointment grew with each minute, as she felt she would not find another husband worthy of her beauty. But as they left the edge of the lake, the man broke through the surface with the sword in hand. He refused to explain how he had accomplished the task. Again, Adete wanted to marry him as soon as he sauntered out of the lake, but again Percival’s suspicions were raised, and he asked her to give him the final task.
“Percival believed the last task to be impossible. You see, his beloved wife had passed away five years before and he had never moved on from her death. The stranger was to enter the Everlands and restore the queen to the mortal world. He was gone for three days and three nights. Adete grieved the man’s loss while Percival congratulated himself on a well-executed plan. But then the stranger returned with Percival’s wife, the poor woman scared and confused after being dead for multiple years. The mortal world was too chaotic for a soul now accustomed to the peace of the Everlands. Percival quickly shuttled his wife into a quiet room and admitted the man had completed all three tasks. Because he was a man of his word, he gave his blessing for the marriage. Percival asked for the name of his soon to be son-in-law. ‘My name is Otho, God of Victory,’ he said, ‘and I will be taking Adete now to live within my kingdom. Say your goodbyes.’ Now this was something Percival could not abide. He’d heard of Otho’s reputation with women and knew his daughter would not be safe with the god, nor would he be faithful to her. He refused the match, spiriting Adete away and locking her in a tower warded against Otho.
“Otho, being the God of Victory, would not let the slight stand. He ran to his family for aid—his twin sister, Thelena, and his father, Phaedros. Otho and Thelena razed the entire kingdom of Katran. Every town, building, and every man, woman, and child. Otho tortured Percival by making him watch the destruction of his kingdom, and as Thelena plucked Adete from the tower. Otho promised Percival eternal torment by sending him directly into Phaedros’ pit, forcing him to observe as he mistreated his daughter forever. Phaedros then cursed the land so that any who died here were unable to cross over into either the Everlands or the Nine Hells; instead transforming them into something horrendous, forced to wander the now Dead Lands eternally starving and never knowing peace.”
A high-pitched screech sounded off in the distance, startling them all out of Altair’s story.
“What was that?” Talon asked.
“Wailers,” Altair answered. “The poor souls bound to wander here. They’re starving, and desperate for any source of food.” He looked at each of them, a warning lacing his tone. “The curse still holds. Any who die here transform into a wailer. So do your best to stay alive.”
With that comforting advice, the team ventured into the Dead Lands.