Requiem (23 page)

Beware the shields.
It was a message she had no way of sending beyond hope.

Still, even if Aedric saw them, there was little he could do now. He was swept up in the midst of her and the entourage, and breaking free would be problematic without help.

She waited until she was at the bottom of the gangplank and then stumbled against the railing, careful of Jakob, and gasped.

It was enough to startle the others. Lynnae and Sister Elsbet both stopped as Jin took back her balance. In that brief pause, she felt a ghost of movement along the edges of her gown as Aedric slipped beneath the gangplank into shadow.

“I think you should take him,” she said to Lynnae as she passed Jakob over. The woman blushed at the sound of the crowd.

Then, they crossed the open area to the waiting carriage and were helped in by waiting drivers. Once inside, Lynnae passed Jakob back to her and Jin held him close. His eyes were wide as he stared at the mob around them, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure exactly what he felt.

But she knew soon enough, and when she did, she did not know which frightened her most—the hymn-singing of the faithful, worshiping the arrival of her son or the sound of Jakob’s wild laughter.

Chapter

12

Neb

Warm air moved over Neb, carrying the scent of Amylé D’Anjite to his flaring nostrils as he raced down passageways that twisted and turned deep beneath the surface of the island. Above him, Petronus and the others waited in a makeshift camp, and behind him, Aver-Tal-Ka followed after.

I can smell her,
Neb sent.

Yes,
the spider answered.
You have not met your kind before.
It was a statement, but Neb could sense the question that underwrote it.

“No. I didn’t know I had a kind other than the ones who raised me.” Of course, even then he’d felt alone. But he’d assumed that was how orphans felt, even in an orphanage full of other Androfrancine errors-in-judgment, tucked away in the heart of the world’s greatest city. And learning that he was so much more than some supposed moral lapse on Hebda’s behalf—that he wasn’t even actually kin to the man he’d considered his father—was something he still could not get his mind around. But even now, the quickening he felt at the nearness of another like him was yet more evidence.

He picked up the pace as he went, his fast walk turning to a jog and then to a run. The passageway was metal-lined, and the air did not have the same dead smell as the Beneath Places back home. Overhead, a kind of lichen grew on the ceiling and the upper walls, giving light and, Neb suspected, giving air. And by now, they had to be under the sea, but there was no sign of moisture, no telltale drips of seawater.

Somewhere ahead of him, she waited. Gripping his kin-raven, he sent her name again into the aether.
Amylé D’Anjite.

Silence.

I’ve tamped you,
Aver-Tal-Ka answered.
It was imprudent for you to wander the aether.

An image popped into his mind of the hounds. And of something else, large and silver, that watched from above. Neb felt the hairs on his arms stir and understood the emotion that the spider also projected.
Caution.

He nodded his understanding and slowed as another smell tickled his nostrils. This one was rich and bittersweet, though he’d never known a smell to be so easily experienced as a flavor before. Still, he tasted it and his body craved it, remembered it, and made the connection.

The blood of the earth.
“There is a bargaining pool ahead.”

Yes.

Neb had used the bargaining pools at home—on Lasthome—to travel thousands of leagues in an instant. He’d also used the thick, quicksilver fluid to clothe himself and infuse himself with strength and power the likes of which he’d never known. And the pool had also healed him, cleansing his flesh of the Y’Zirite scars along with the wounds from their cuttings upon him.

“Will they carry me here on the moon?”

They are not to be trusted. The thief, Y’Zir, poisoned many of them and twisted the connecting lines of many others to set traps for your people.

Neb stretched out a hand and touched the metal wall, feeling the thrum of life that ran through it, then slowed to a walk as the corridor emptied out into a much larger room.

“Light,” he shouted into the room, and as his voice echoed out and across the vastness, the glow of the ceiling intensified to illuminate a wide bridge that stretched out over a silver lake. At the center of it, an island rose up to meet the other end of that bridge at least half a league above the quicksilver surface below. Upon that island, a single tree—white and ancient—dominated it, its roots rising and twisting out of the ground and its branches heavy with thorns. The tree stirred as Neb approached his end of the bridge, and he wondered what breeze moved it that he himself could not feel.

Aver-Tal-Ka paused at the edge of the bridge, its legs twitching and mandibles clicking.

Neb stared. “What is it?”

A vague sense of emotion flooded him.
Protection. To slumber within. To rest beneath. To be nourished by.
Aver-Tal-Ka worked his mouth open and spoke with his vocal cords. “It is a Watching Tree.”

Neb sniffed at it. “It has no smell.”

“No,” it agreed. “By design.”

But he could smell the girl even stronger now, and he knew she must be nearby. “Can it harm me?”

Yes.
“But it will not if you give it what it asks for.”

The branches stirred again, and he knew now that no wind moved it. The tree was turning, twisting in the ground, to face Neb. “And it knows I’m here.”

Yes.
“Now, clothe yourself and approach,” the spider said. “And when it gives you the girl, bring her to me. Do not wake her until then. She is very ill, and I must treat her.”

Neb hesitated, feeling panic settle onto his neck and into his shoulders. “You’re not coming with me?”

Aver-Tal-Ka shuddered. “I am not permitted in this form.”

He wanted to ask, but the smell pulled at him and he turned to face the tree. He stretched out a hand over the edge of the chasm. “Clothe me,” he commanded.

At first, nothing happened. Then, silver mist drifted up from the lake, swirling around his feet. He felt the mist taking form and heating up as it spread out over the clothes he wore, penetrating them. Light bloomed, and when it faded, he stood draped in a loose-fitting robe that moved over his body with a life of its own.

He gave the spider one final glance, and it tipped its face toward him, the closest approximation it had of inclining its head in respect.

Then Neb moved out onto the bridge, his eyes upon the tree as he approached it. He’d seen some of the old growth in the Ninefold Forest, but this was much larger. Its pale trunk had a circumference at least twice that of the biggest he’d seen there, and it stretched up high enough to scrape the cavern’s lichen-covered ceiling. Dark globes of fruit hung from its thorny branches.

At the midpoint, the tree shuddered, and Neb heard a growling noise that he first mistook for wind.

No, he realized.
The tree is growling at me.

Its sole purpose is to protect the life it shelters,
Aver-Tal-Ka sent.

Neb tried to move forward, but his feet were suddenly hesitant as the anxiety moved from his neck and shoulders down into his back and into his stomach.

The spider’s words tickled beneath his scalp.
Do not be afraid, Nebios Whym. It, too, is made to serve you.

Swallowing his fear, he pressed on and did not stop again until he reached the far end of the bridge. The quicksilver sea shifted and shimmered at least a half-league below, and the growling grew. This near, he could see the sap that dripped from the thorns and realized now that what he thought was fruit was something else.

Are they stones?

They were dark and glistened where they hung, moving with the branches. And when they opened in unison to reveal white pupils all trained upon him, Neb blinked.

Stepping off the bridge and onto the island, he flexed his left hand by instinct and felt the robe tighten over him as it shifted into a sheath that covered him in silver light. And the instinct served him well. With a shudder and a roar, a cloud of thorns shot out, and he felt them striking the skin of light that enclosed him.

Neb kept walking, his eyes fixed on a long pink scar on the trunk.

Empty of thorns, the branches lowered, but the eyes continued to regard him. Neb raised both of his hands, spreading the fingers open. “I am here for the girl,” he said. “Amylé D’Anjite,” he said in a loud voice. “Grant me access to her.”

He took another step forward.

Name yourself.
The words dropped into his head with enough volume to hurt.

“I am Nebios,” he said. “Son of Whym.”

A long white root lifted from the floor and slithered toward him, moving from side to side like a snake.
The truth is in your blood.

Neb resisted the urge to flee as it approached, and when it reached his foot, he saw a single thorn twitched at its tip. It rose up to dance back and forth before him, the thorn approaching and then withdrawing from his hand until Neb understood its intention.

Biting his lip, he concentrated on his hand and imagined peeling the light from it as if it were a glove. Once it was exposed, the thorn slid into the flesh of his wrist, and surprisingly, he felt no pain from it. The vine gulped at his vein for a moment, then pulled away. The wound closed as the light he wore crept back over his hand.

By what song were you carried?

Neb reached into his pouch to draw out the silver crescent, holding it aloft. He could hear the canticle playing from it, and the tree heard as well, its branches shuddering one final time as the eyes closed at once.

He trembled as he approached, stepping over the roots that scattered the dark ground. And when he stood beneath the tree, he ran his hands over the scar and felt it moving beneath his touch. There was a distinct gash in the tree, and he worked his fingers into it to pull the scar open. It gave way, and the smell of her flooded him as he pulled at the fleshy bark.

He caught a glimpse of pale skin tangled in vines and roots, buried in the tree, and his hand brushed the silk of long blond hair. He continued tugging the tree open and blushed when his hand brushed her breast.

“Clothe her,” he whispered.

Mist lifted from his own clothing now to twist and turn its way into the tree, and even as it did, Neb’s hands found the strength to crack open the last of the trunk that held her. She stood upright, held by the tree, with her eyes closed.

Aver-Tal-Ka’s words were a slight whisper in his skull.
Do not wake her, Nebios. Bring her to me so I can heal her.

Neb couldn’t take his eyes off her.
I don’t know how to wake her,
he sent back.

But even as he sent it, he realized he
did
know. And before he could stop himself, compulsion overtook him and he leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips.

Agitation. Caution.
He could feel the emotions from the spider, but something far stronger captivated him. Neb pulled back, guilt stabbing him.

Her eyes fluttered and opened.

Nebios, I’m coming for you.
He could sense fear in Aver-Tal-Ka’s message now.

Amylé’s mouth worked open. “No,” she said. And the tree shivered to life. Neb took a step back, casting a glance at the bridge. Aver-Tal-Ka was midway across the span, scuttling to a stop as the boughs turned in its direction, thorns dripping and ready. “Your companion means me harm, Nebios.”

He looked back to her and saw fear in her eyes. “No,” he said. “He does not. His name is Aver-Tal-Ka. He brought me to you. But you’re not well. He needs to treat you.”

“I need no treatment.” She climbed from the tree and approached him slowly.

Neb took another step back, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks and ears. He’d not felt anything like this before, and it was starting to frighten him.

Yes.
It was Aver-Tal-Ka.
You should be frightened. You are being beguiled.

Her eyes sharpened.
Enough.

Her voice was a fist between Neb’s temples, and it staggered him. The tree rustled again and began to growl. He glanced to the bridge and saw Aver-Tal-Ka once more approaching.
Nebios, you must return to me.

She stood before him now and stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss him. This kiss was moist, and Neb felt his heart racing. “We are the last of our kind,” she said. “Come swim the light with me.”

Then, she ran, and Neb forgot everything but the taste and smell of her, the look and feel of her. It was as if his heart were leashed to her in strands of Firstfall steel, and he found himself running to catch up even as the silver crescent and its pouch tumbled from his hands, discarded.

When she leaped from the cliff, arms flung wide, Nebios Whym gave it no thought whatsoever.

Laughing, he leaped after her.

Marta

Frozen branches slapped at her, and Marta turned her face toward the metal man’s shoulder and clung to him. They’d been running for hours now, dodging among the trees, and though she’d seen nothing, she knew they were being harried.

The way the metal man kept changing course was proof enough, but she was fairly certain she’d heard low whistles, slight on the wind, each time they’d changed direction.

The metal man ran at full speed, one hand clutching at her and the other moving what branches it could.

They broke cover, and then suddenly, they weren’t running anymore. The metal man was falling, and as it did, it released her and she tumbled off into a snowbank. She scrambled to climb out and felt hands solid upon her chest, pushing her down. “Hold, girl.” The woman’s voice had a heavy accent.

She saw the metal man thrashing about in a net. “What are you doing?”