Page 113 of The Cradle of Ice
THE DIM BLUE glow of eventide shrank the seas closer to the skiff. The steamy mists hugged tighter around them, as if trying to hide their efforts as they rolled the last body into the waters. Kelp ropes strangled the corpse’s pale neck, running down to a net full of stones. The weight dragged their shame away.
Nyx sat in the stern of the rocking skiff. She hugged her arms around her. Despite the oppressive heat, her body still shivered. The reek of brimstan, bubbling up from the molten seabed, fouled the air.
It had taken a full bell to reach the boiling seas that edged the deepwater lair of the Dreamers. The two orksos—Neffa and Mattis—had labored through the waters, fighting the overloaded craft, having to contend with the extra dead weight and Shiya’s considerable bulk. Graylin had urged their group to dump the bodies shortly after leaving Kefta’s bay, but Daal had refused. He insisted the men—assailants or not—be returned properly to the sea, to the embrace of the Dreamers.
“That’s the last of them,” Graylin said, wiping his palms on his damp breeches as if that would clean his conscience, too. He looked at their group, his face stern and pitiless.
Still, Nyx had noted his lips moving silently in prayer as the dead were sent to their watery graves. His eyes had looked haunted, while his features remained stoic. It only added to her own guilt. He had committed that coldhearted act to aid her endeavor.
But will it all be for naught?
The seas below the skiff remained dark, lit only by a single firepot stanchioned at the prow. Shiya also sensed nothing, her gaze searching the waters all around. But they had yet to call out to those Dreamers.
“We’d best get about it,” Graylin warned. He glanced to a distant glow through the dark mists. “Our return to Kefta will undoubtedly be quicker, but we dare not linger longer than we must.”
Nyx nodded and shifted over to Shiya. She took hold of the bronze woman’s hand, both their fingers slick with hot droplets. Nyx let her eyelids drift half-closed. She took deep breaths, stoking her bridle-song into a warm glow. Still, she had to struggle for focus. The air filling her lungs was too hot, too foul.
Shiya squeezed her hand, humming softly next to her.
Nyx concentrated as Shiya’s humming slipped into a melody, rising and falling with the rocking boat. Nyx’s chin began to dip and lift the same, riding that harmony. As she found the proper rhythm, she let her own song escape her lips. She added and bolstered Shiya’s refrain. With each breath, the song grew around them, tangled together. It built until there was no restraining it any further.
Without a word, they both cast those golden threads across the dark waters, like a shining net. They continued to sing, driving that glowing tangle deeper, passing through the luminescent waters into the lightless depths. Nyx followed those cords, carried within that net. Schools of speckled fish flashed their scales and dashed away, as if sensing her presence coursing past them.
As they delved deeper, Nyx’s breathing grew harder, her throat straining. Shiya’s earlier words were proven correct. The pressure of the water, its density, muffled their efforts, trying to thwart them. The golden mesh started to fray, dissolving in those black depths.
She sang louder, growing desperate, flashing to Graylin’s blade piercing a chest.
It can’t be for nothing.
Shiya added her strength, but even her well of energy failed to drive those threads any deeper.
No …
Nyx refused to give up. Her throat ached, and her chest labored. For a flicker, she saw a distant glow, far deeper than she imagined these waters to be. It shone more silvery than golden, then it vanished. She gasped in frustration and despair, unsure if it was real or merely her desire manifesting itself.
She and Shiya struggled for several long breaths, but it was to no avail. Strain turned their melody discordant. The golden net tattered and was quickly consumed by the black waters.
With a last gasp, Nyx fell back into her body, into the skiff.
Graylin dropped to a knee beside her. He cradled her shoulders. Shiya sat heavily next to her. The shine of her bronze had dulled with exhaustion.
“Did you sense those Dreamers?” Graylin asked.
“No … maybe … I don’t know…” Nyx stammered, breathless and hoarse. “Certainly not enough to commune with them, to learn what they might know.”
Graylin glanced at Shiya.
Her eyes glowed glassy. “For a moment, I felt … something … a flash, a glint.”
Nyx sat up. “Of what?”
Shiya glanced across them all. “Fury.”
* * *
FROM THE BOW of the boat, Daal had watched it all transpire. The glow of the two had driven away his terror of these waters. Awe had filled him, leaving little else. The surge had warmed through his body, stirring the fire inside him, like raking coals to a hotter scorch.
But as it ended, collapsing away, the hollowness in its wake filled again with dread. Especially upon hearing Shiya’s judgement.
