The Cradle of Ice (Moonfall #2)

Chapter 51

51

D ESPERATE, HEART POUND ING, Graylin dashed from one side of the skiff to the other. He searched the dark waters. But there was no sign of Nyx or Daal. The image of Marayn’s daughter being dragged off the boat, tangled in clinging tentacles, seared his mind. Though it had only been breaths ago, he knew he had to do something.

He pulled his sword, prepared to dive into the sea, to drown if he must.

I lost her once in the swamps of Myr. I won’t lose her again.

“Someone comes,” Shiya warned from the stern.

Graylin leaned farther over the waves, looking to see what had alerted the bronze woman.

“Not that way.” Shiya pointed toward the distant glow of Kefta.

He didn’t see anything—until a closer flicker of flames glimmered through the fog. Voices echoed eerily, calling toward them. Though the words were in Panthean, the threat and anger were clear. From the mists, the outline of the Reef Farer’s barge slowly appeared, lit by its firepots. It was flanked by smaller boats.

They’ve found us. Somehow learned we were out here.

Graylin knew the edict for disturbing the Dreamers. While simply being in these waters was dangerous enough, any attempt to reach the Oshkapeers below was punishable by death.

Graylin shoved over to Shiya. “Get overboard. Into the waters. Find Nyx and Daal.”

Shiya didn’t acknowledge his command. She simply stepped over the side and dropped away, vanishing like a bronze anchor into the dark depths. He hoped she could hunt below and somehow find and free Nyx and Daal.

But would that be enough?

As he watched the barge approach through the mists, he found himself holding his breath. How long could Nyx do the same? He finally gasped for air, knowing that answer.

Still, he refused to give up hope.

As the barge drew abreast of him, the other skiffs circled wider, searching the mists. On the deck of the barge, the Reef Farer’s consort, Ularia, stepped to the bow, looming over Graylin. Her emerald eyes sparked with a furious fire.

Behind her, ten men stood in leather armor, threatening with silver-tipped tridents.

Graylin realized he still had his sword in hand and quickly sheathed it. He sought for an explanation as to why he was alone in these waters and latched on to the first that made any sense.

“Why do you disturb my prayers?” he stammered out. He silently added an actual entreaty to the gods, fearing Ularia might have witnessed Shiya stepping overboard.

The woman frowned, her narrowed gaze casting over the waters. “Where are the others?”

“What do you mean? I left everyone back in Kefta.” He let his panic shine through. “Has something befallen them?”

“A party of your people were spotted from the cliffs above Kefta. Aboard a skiff. Headed in this direction.” Ularia glanced back toward the glow of the town. “I had my personal guard sweep the tribute grounds. None of your other companions could be found.”

Graylin shook his head. “I can’t explain that. Maybe they sought a quiet place to rest. It’s been a long day. I came here for some solitary reflection after so much death. This place felt sacred and holy.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Ularia warned. “This is our hallowed sea.”

Graylin took a deep breath, trying not to stare into those waters, his heart still in his throat. He remembered how Meryk had explained that the Reef Farer’s consort was one of three Nyssians, those with the gift for preserving the history of the Crèche and its people. A talent, it was said, that was gained by the first of their sisterhood communing with the Dreamers.

No wonder she is so furious at this trespass.

“I meant no disrespect,” he pleaded. “Only quiet reflection and prayer.”

She looked only slightly mollified.

He couldn’t stop himself from searching the waves. He prayed for Nyx to be safe, but he also willed her to stay below. For violating those depths, she would die above as surely as she would from drowning below.

“With your permission,” he said, “I’d like to spend more time here. I’ve not finished my prayers or absolutions.”

“I don’t care about your Noorish ways,” she said with acid on her tongue. “You’ll return with us.”

Ularia waved to her men. They quickly tethered his skiff and its two orksos to the barge and forced Graylin aboard at the point of a spear. With no way of arguing otherwise, Graylin could only watch as the barge swept around, drawing the other skiffs in its wake.

As they set off for Kefta, he stared past the stern to the quiet waves, hoping against hope.

Please be alive, Nyx.