Chapter 65
65
T HOUGH A FIERY map glowed behind his eyes, Daal felt deeply lost. He could have never imagined such a strange, unsettling landscape.
Every turn brought new wonders and horrors. They had passed channels that roared with rushing waters. Others billowed forth with clouds of steam, burning skin and searing lungs, reeking of sulfur. They had hurried past those, chased by the torrid bubbling of boiling water. Some sections were so cold it frosted their breath and chattered their teeth.
As they continued onward, they crossed through routes that required ducking their heads from low ice-blue roofs. Another had them sailing across a great cavern, so vast and tall that the small flame from his lone firepot could not reach the roof or the walls. It was as if they had discovered another sea.
On and on they traveled, guided only by the map in his head.
By now, they must have traveled deep into eventide—though he couldn’t say for sure. The timelessness of the endless tunnels challenged his senses.
Behind him, the others occasionally whispered, mostly generated by the nervousness of Jace, who likely staved off his terror by commenting or questioning every new discovery. Daal tried his best to ignore them, to let that chatter fall from his ears. He concentrated on the winding, tortuous path ahead of them. His memories overlapped with the journeys of the many explorers, shown to him by the Oshkapeers.
Hundreds of deaths, even more despair.
As the skiff coursed through the ice, the past and present overlapped. He heard the ghostly screams of the many who had lost their lives down here, while also noting the grunts and whistling exhalations of Neffa and Mattis. The orksos were nervous, too, chuffing and rubbing against one another, though it was mostly a father comforting a daughter.
He hummed to them often, reassuring them with his voice, his presence. As he did, he noted the slight glow from his skin in the darkness. But he didn’t know if he was seeing it with his own eyes or if Nyx’s memories were blurring with his.
After communing with the Dreamers, he better understood what he had been doing innately all his life. He even had a name for it now: bridle-song. It was likely a gift passed to him from his Noorish ancestors, a talent further strengthened and molded by the Dreamers. Knowing all of this, he now found this ability unnerving, whereas before he had given it no thought. A part of him wished he had remained oblivious.
Still, his efforts helped settle the two orksos—if not his own trepidation.
“Look!” Jace called out, while trying to stay hushed.
He pointed to a shelf of ice protruding into the tunnel. It looked like a frozen beachhead covered in scores of white rocks. Then, as if hearing Jace, large black eyes popped open—disturbingly only one per rock. Legs unfolded and the creatures hopped with great bounds into the water.
“Steer clear of them,” Graylin warned.
Daal followed this instruction. He had never seen such creatures, but when it came to these waters, it was best to be cautious. As they slipped past the icy shelf, a lone beast crouched by a clawed hole. A clutch of crimson eggs filled it. It hissed as they glided by, showing rows of needlelike teeth.
Such strangeness was not the first. Even in this inhospitable and changeable world, life had taken a foothold. Earlier, they had crossed a domed cavern draped with glowing fronds. The foliage waved and shone. But it was not because of the constant breezes. As they skimmed under it, long tendrils unfurled, lined by thorns. Graylin had used his sword to part them aside so the skiff could pass through. As they skimmed under the weedy growth, Daal had noted hundreds of fish skeletons clutched in curls of those spikes above their heads. A few carcasses had scraps of flesh and scale, and one karp still thrashed in that deadly embrace.
They had hurried past, but life was everywhere. Flitting, crawling, scrabbling, splashing. One passage was overrun by thumb-sized spiders that fled from their path, even skirting atop the water’s surface to escape. Luckily, that horde appeared to be as scared of them as they were of the spiders.
Some sights, though, were stunningly beautiful, haunting even.
A short time ago, a huge ray had glided under the skiff, four times the breadth of their boat. Its skin had shimmered and flashed, reminding him of the Oshkapeers. But this giant left behind a glowing trail in its wake. It shone long after the ray had fled.
Graylin shifted closer behind Daal, eyeing Nyx, too. “Do either of you have any idea how much farther we must go?”
Daal glanced at Nyx.
She answered, “We’re about halfway.”
Daal nodded, knowing she was right, picturing the fiery path ahead.
Graylin’s brows lowered sternly at this report, but Daal didn’t know if his grimness was due to how far they still had to travel or about how close they were to getting there.
Daal still had trouble reading the knight, especially when clouded by Nyx’s conflicting feelings for a man who could be her father, a man who had abandoned her in a swamp. Daal could touch Nyx’s prickly irritation for the man, but also a deeper warmth that had been growing steadily—which oddly only stoked Nyx’s exasperation, as if she were angry at herself for any tenderness toward the knight.
Daal gave a shake of his head. It was all too confusing, but the heart was never a seat of sensibility and prudence. He knew that all too well.
He shifted his gaze to the others, where there was less conflict. Nyx’s love for Jace was rooted deep. Her appreciation shone for Vikas’s steadfastness. Even Nyx’s wariness of Shiya jangled through him—though some of the latter might have been inspired by the Dreamers.
Somewhere far away, a great beast rumbled.
Daal stiffened as the threat echoed to them. He tried to picture the monster that made that noise. He prayed it kept away from them—but his plea was ignored.
The rumbling swept closer, growing into a shuddering roar, coming from all around. The waters surrounding the boat trembled, then shook into a boil. The walls cracked with thunderous snaps.
“A quake!” Graylin warned.
They all clutched the skiff’s rails. Daal ducked low. He lifted an arm and held his palm over the water, trying to calm the panic of the orksos. They thrashed in their harnesses, tossing the boat about in their terror.
Then Nyx was there.
She grabbed his forearm, her fingers clutching hard. She drew some of his fire and cast it forth with a burst of brilliant song. He watched its melodic chords cast over the seas like a glowing net. It settled over the two orksos. He felt the calmness and comfort suffuse into those boiling waters, steeping the beasts with reassurance and encouragement. A chorus echoed to the orksos—through him, from her.
All is safe… all is safe…
Neffa, then Mattis, slowly quieted within the embrace of that song.
Nyx nodded to him and let his arm go. Still, her palm lingered over his skin for a tentative breath. He watched his fire snuffing from beneath her fingertips. She almost followed those last flames back to his arm, but she pulled her hand away.
Around them, the quaking continued, rumbling and shaking.
It seemed to go on forever, but it finally ended with a resounding crash ahead of them. A huge swell of water rushed around a turn in the tunnel and shoved the skiff high.
Daal lifted a palm protectively over his head. His hand struck the smooth cold roof. Then the boat fell under them as the wave departed. He was lifted from his feet for a breathless moment, then crashed with the others to the deck. They all lay flat as the skiff was tossed to and fro until the waters calmed to an uneasy rocking.
But at least the quake had ended.
They all regained their seats, breathing hard. Except for Shiya, who looked unfazed by it all.
Jace’s voice still held a tremble from all the shaking. “Let… Let’s hope that doesn’t happen again.” He searched behind them, then to the front. “Before we left the Crown, Frell had suggested such violence might be a sign of moonfall’s approach.”
All eyes fell upon Nyx, as if she were to blame.
Graylin finally waved ahead. “Keep going.”
They set off again, wending down the tunnel. The smoothness of the blue walls hinted that this was not the first time that warm waters had flooded through these tunnels, melting the ice to the slickness of an orkso’s flank.
Could this be evidence of prior quakes?
Over his life, Daal had felt them periodically in Iskar. And they did seem to be coming more often, causing great slabs of ice to calve from the cliffs that bordered the beach.
Nyx gasped and stiffened.
Her shock drew his attention forward. Ahead, tunnels, fissures, and chasms coursed away in different directions, which was not unusual in this icy labyrinth.
Then he recognized what had shaken Nyx.
In his mind’s eye, the fiery path stretched forward—only to hit a massive slab of ice that had crashed down, surrounded by a floating blue raft of shards and pieces. The quake had collapsed a large section of the roof, closing off multiple tunnels.
Including the one marked in Daal’s head.
He fought against the sight, but there was no denying the truth.
We’ll never reach the Mouth now.