“Enough with the lessons!” Sitra spat, rounding on Valen. “There’s no training that can prepare you for what we just did. Where in our training did we ever have to starve ourselves for a week? When did we learn how to get drugged and dragged through the street by Underkin while they groped and shit all over us? In whose lessons did we watch a friend have his soul pulled out of his face? Save your preaching, Valen. Your Wisdom didn’t save us from Decreath. It was Rage!” She roared, jabbing a claw at Cole. The guards looked to one another, taking positions around Sitra. “Rage saved us from burning on the towers. Rage saved us from being meals for The Three! Rage gets you results, so that’s what I’ll use. And what the fuck are you staring at?” she added, shooting a dangerous glare at a guard who had tried to shimmy his way in between her and the door to the lower decks.
The guard froze. He seemed to remember his duties and spoke with an authoritative tone. “You’ll step away from the door, Miss. You’ve been ordered by King…Rothael to stay above deck.” Addressing Roth as ‘King’ gave the man a small fit. He sidestepped, filling the entire frame of the door with his broad shoulders. “I don’t care if you’re daughter to the King himself, you won’t get through this door. Find somewhere else to throw your tantrum.”
Sitra may not have been considering going below deck, but she certainly looked it now. With teeth and munisica bared, she stalked closer to the guard, who slammed his tower shield down before him.
“Sitra, do calm yourself. There’s no need for it. Food’s on the way.” Eliza sighed, now slumping droopy-eyed against Goran’s belly.
Goran perked up, sniffing and opening one ruby eye as he lifted his head an inch from the deck. Cole thought about using his Rage to stop Sitra, but wasn’t sure if he could contain himself. She would just have to make an ass out of herself. Unless someone else stepped in.
Sitra wrapped her claws delicately around the thick glass shield. “You want to see a tantrum?” She growled as she planted one of her clawed feet against the shield’s center, still gripping the sides with her hands. Her muscles flexed and rippled. The shield groaned, but held fast. Whatever material the glass was made from must have been incredibly strong, as Cole had seen Sitra bend metal beams with that kind of force. Eyes blind with Rage, Sitra released her grip and punched the shield with a ball of jade light held in between her claws. The glass exploded.
Cole threw an arm over his eyes, but he didn’t need to. Lileth was on her feet, hands twirling in front of her as if she were playing an invisible harp. Shards of broken glass hung in midair, tumbling silently.
“Let go of me Lil!” Sitra bellowed.
Both Sitra and the guard were floating in midair and covered in a fuzzy emerald light. Sitra lashed out with her munisica while the guard swung with his glass sword, but neither of them could find any ground for leverage.
“The spell is not strong,” Lileth said, tossing the shattered fragments of shield over the edge with a flick of her wrist. “Break yourself free when you have the Wisdom to do so. And you, sheathe your sword before you hurt yourself,” she added, addressing the flailing guard.
Without hesitation, the guard slammed his sword back into the scabbard, though his small munisica were still bared and ready. Lileth released her spell on him and he landed in a clanking heap. A moment later, Sitra alighted on the deck without her munisica and shroud. She wrapped her arms around Lileth, crying softly. Lileth embraced her, though her face was emotionless.
The door crashed open as two young sailors stumbled through, arms loaded with canvas bags and wooden boxes.
“Just a bit longer if you’ve got the patience,” piped one of the boys. “Should take us less than an hour to prep the meal.”
“We do not have the patience,” Valen said. “Drop the food on the deck. Thank you.”
The boys looked at each other, unsure if they should do as Valen said. After an awkward moment of hesitation, the bags and boxes were lifted from their arms as their contents began to spread themselves across the deck, hovering at chest height.
“Thank you boys.” Eliza wrapped her arms around their shoulders as a dreamy expression washed over their faces. Her voice was like honey. “Would it be too much trouble to ask for a bit more? We are somewhat famished from our journey. It would mean the world to me,” she added, giving them a little squeeze.
“Whuh…yeah. Sure thing!” stuttered one of the boys.
“We’ll be right back, Miss! There’s so much more, just wait here,” gushed the other as the pair dashed away.
Eliza’s eyebrow went up along with the corner of her mouth. “What are you all waiting for? I thought you were hungry.”
They attacked the floating food with indiscriminate zeal, flash cooking whatever happened to be in front of them with quick blasts of Wisdom. Cole took an experimental nibble on a white rock, which turned out to be cheese. He melted the brick up and drizzled it over a loaf of bread. Goran was in his own personal heaven. He didn’t even bother to stand up to eat. The giant mirak scooted around on his back, knocking food from the air into his mouth. In between bites they all took turns tossing raw vegetables through his overlarge canines. Goran usually avoided vegetables as if they were the vilest of poisons, but didn’t seem to mind at the moment. Before long the boys returned with their arms full, this time taking requests for their next trip below deck.
Lileth gave Cole a gentle elbow to the shoulder. “Don’t forget your charge.”
“My what?” Cole asked, looking around to see Milette poking her head around a bundle of netting. “Oh right. Hey Milette, there’s plenty more food coming. Get over here and eat something. Or don’t,” he added, unsure of how nice he should be to his prisoner.
Milette shot out like a stray cat and used her stumps to grab a few hunks of cold bread before slinking back into the shadows. She struggled to feed herself without the use of her hands. It was indecent, watching a dignified woman driven by desperation as she ate from the floor like a dog. Cole felt a stab of guilt as the food in his mouth turned to dry wood. Her crime against the soul fly certainly deserved punishment, but Cole loathed being the one responsible for her fumbling attempt to feed herself with her scabbed, blunt wrists. It was all because he let the Rage take him.
Lileth gave his arm a gentle squeeze, warming him. “Remember the reasons for your choice. Her suffering is the cost of upholding your morals. If there were another Milette tomorrow, would you spare her life and take her prisoner as well?”
“I’d take a dozen Milettes before I let myself become an executioner. You can kill the next one if you want.” Cole sprung to his feet and brought a few servings of meat and fruits over to Milette, cooking them along the way. Milette’s eyes flashed at his unexpected appearance. She withdrew, coiling like a snake ready to strike. Without a word Cole tied the food with Wisdom so that it would hover around her head, making it easier for her to eat. Without thanking him she attacked the air with ravenous bites, not bothering to wipe the fruit’s juices that ran down her chin. Cole returned to Lileth. She grinned softly and wouldn’t look at him.
Sometime during their fifth serving, the shieldless guard interrupted their feasting. “If you’ll all stay to the center of the deck, we must draw the sheet caps.”
“Are we going under the sand now?” Cole asked with his mouth full.
“Move away from the sides now, unless you want to be picking sand from places you didn’t know you had,” the guard barked. Even as he spoke, others ran alongside the handrails and up the masts, securing a rippling crystal veil over their heads.
Cole nudged Goran to the center of the deck, grabbing the last few pieces of meat along the way. The vessel sank lower and lower, giving Cole a sense of restrained anxiety as the surface of the powdery sands rose above the deck. Darkness poured up over them, as if they were inside a goblet filling with oil. Cole steadied himself by staring at Oberon’s fading glow before it too was swallowed by the sands.
Cole bumped against unknown arms, growing
steadily more unbalanced in the pitch black. He used his Wisdom to stretch his eyes to allow more light, but there simply was none. A few uncomfortable seconds later, tiny candles blazed to life throughout the main deck, casting them all in warm light. Cole severed the spell on his eyes and waited for the blind spots in his vision to fade away.
“Flames on a wooden ship?” Valen said, touching one of the flickering candles with his bare fingers. “Such a crude design. Surely a bit of Wisdom would be preferential. Do you Morthainians use Rage exclusively?” he asked a passing member of the crew, who scowled at his criticism of their ship.
“We’ve no use for the coddling or useless pondering of your other magics,” said the sailor as he coiled a rope around his arm. “Nor do we care for the stink that the Three tempt us with. Leave us well enough alone with our fire and tools. Rage is the only magic we need.” He threw the rope over his shoulder and stamped off to the upper deck.
Sitra punched Valen in the shoulder. “See? I told you. Rage gets results.”
Unsure of how long this portion of their journey would be, Cole found a comfy spot up against Goran and stretched out. Lileth sat down next to him and fell asleep almost immediately. As tired as Cole was, he kept himself awake so he could stare openly at her. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. The candle light danced across the handsome curves of her face, stunning him. Her lips were full and parted slightly, tempting Cole to find out what they might taste like. Travel worn as she was, her raven hair was still tied back with only a few neat strands running down her jaw. He wished she would let her hair down again, like the day she brought him to the Arts District. If only he could touch her face and see if it was as smooth as it looked. For the first time he allowed himself to fully believe what the others said about him growing taller. If he continued at this rate maybe he would be as tall as she was. Then perhaps she’d see him in a different light. A romantic light. He turned his focus to his bones, where Roth’s gift still burned in his marrow. He could almost see his arms and legs growing longer as he watched.
Cole suddenly found himself not tired at all. His heart was hammering and he felt a longing warmth spread its way down his lower abdomen. Goran’s concern pressed through their bond as he angled an ear towards Cole. Cole patted his barrel ribs, reassuring him as he withdrew himself from their bond. This was a time for privacy. He made quite sure his link with Eliza didn’t betray any of his embarrassing thoughts and desires. Lileth turned in her sleep, inching closer to Cole. The strand of hair along her jaw swung forward and rested itself over her lips. Holding his breath, Cole reached a hand out, moving the thread of hair behind her ear. The ship lurched, jostling Lileth awake. Cole withdrew his hand, but not before she saw him pull away. She turned her back to him, leaving Cole to stew in his shame.
Cole spent the sleepless journey going over a list of reasons as to why he and Lileth could never be together. After an hour’s brooding, the darkness around the veil lifted into a hazy amber glow. The others roused themselves and darted to the handrails, peering through the hazy sheet cap.
“So that’s what they mean by a city beneath the sands,” Eliza said in a dreamy voice as she nuzzled her head against Valen’s shoulder. Valen stiffened, but did not withdraw.
Cole hopped up and pressed his nose to the veil. Above them he could make out the vague clouds of sand, but hundreds of feet below looked like a sea of fuzzy torches.
“Step away from the sheet cap!” called one of the sailors.
There was a loud crack from the bow of the ship and the veil snapped over their heads, disappearing in a slot towards the aft.
Cole jumped up so that his chest rested on the handrail, taking in the city under the sands. Morthain lay nestled in a dense pocket at the bottom of a crater. The structures were made of a dark wood with stained-glass embellishments and golden torches that danced like flags. Surrounding the city towered harsh, cragged walls of rock that stretched up into the sand clouds where swaths of garnet lightning flashed without a sound.
“Oberon’s ass,” Sitra hissed, face slack with shock. “That’s the biggest city I’ve ever seen.”
“Wait till you see Oberon’s City. You could hide a dozen Morthains inside the temple,” Valen replied.
Lileth joined them. She inspected the ship and the city below with a skeptical eye. “I find it hard to believe that the city uses no magic other than Rage. There’s magic all around, old and powerful. It’s incredible. I can sense it, but I cannot classify it. The sands themselves are swimming with energies, and this ship cannot navigate the clouds by Rage and clever fingers alone. There is magic here.”
Cole wondered about the magic himself. The velvety black sails of their ship were drawn and rolled onto the masts, but the ship still moved. Peering down below the ship he saw that they were on some sort of sandy river carved into the jagged walls of Morthain’s border. The river spiraled all the way down to a small harbor. Miles away on the other side of Morthain Cole could make out another river winding up the wall. Ships flowed upwards, as if on a sandy escalator. Old magic indeed.
The unit stood in silence for a moment, their eyes wandering out over Morthain’s endless details. Even Milette snuck out of her hiding spot to take a look. To the protests of the sailors, Goran climbed halfway up the mast to get a better look at his surroundings.
“Who does that beast belong to?” asked a grumpy sailor.
Cole approached the man, who gave him a patronizing smirk as though Cole were a mere child.
“Goran belongs to no one,” Cole said, standing as tall as he could. “But he is my friend.”
“Really then? All right, call the thing down.” The sailor cracked the top off of a barrel and pulled out a heavy chain. “It’s got to be on a leash within the city walls.”
Eliza’s eyes went wide as she approached the man, palms open in a gesture of peace. “Goran is not some feral beast. He is incredibly bright and a member of our unit. If you chain him you may as well chain the rest of us.”
“Oh stop it Liza, don’t spoil the fun. I want to see what Goran makes of them,” Sitra cut in with a toothy grin. She perched herself atop another barrel as though claiming the best seat for a show.
The man’s eyes narrowed as he dropped the chain at their feet. “I don’t care if the animal is the mascot of the Celestial Council. We have laws here in Morthain. Within our walls you fall in line or fall out.”
Seeing that no one else was about to start a fight, Sitra kicked off the barrel and drew close to the sailor, hands twitching. “Then perhaps we will have to change the laws. It sounds like your leader is a false-king anyway. Why don’t we see what King Rothael has to say about you chaining up a member of his unit like a pet dog?”
Eyeing the chains, Milette sank back into her hiding spot under a pile of netting.
Cole stepped in between Sitra and the guard. “No, it’s fine. I don’t think Goran will have a problem with it. He won’t care if he’s got chains on him as long as he’s with us. He’ll probably break them anyway.”
The guard chuckled. “Not likely. The chains are made from Morthainian glass. Just get the thing down here so we can throw them on. I take it you’ll be the one holding the other end?”
“Sure,” Cole replied, taking a length of the cool brown chain. It was incredibly heavy and covered in sticky grease. Cole drew his Rage to protect his hands and grant him the strength needed to bear the weight.
“Then you’ll be responsible for the creature. Animals are not permitted within the city, unless they’re food of course.”
“Whatever,” Cole acknowledged. The guard’s attitude was starting to get to him. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him out of trouble. We’re not here for long anyway.”
With Cole’s nudging, Goran swooped down from the top mast and allowed the chains to be wrapped and locked around his hands, feet, and neck. The process was easier than Cole had expected. Goran chewed and licked at the oil that coated the links. Cole could tell just by look
ing that the length was much too short and would interfere with Goran’s stride, but now seemed like a poor time to bring it up. Better to wait for when they were not riding a sand river down a rock wall.
After what felt like an hour their ship reached the bottom of the flowing ramp, dumping them out into a harbor. The ship bobbed and swayed into the loose powder as they steered off to the right following a pillar of rough stone.
“What is that thing!” Milette cried from her hiding place. Cole looked over to see a scabbed wrist poking out from the netting toward the bow of the ship.
The ship was moving slowly and steadily towards the largest set of jaws Cole had ever seen. The jaws belonged to an ancient rusty skull adorned with torches, creating an archway large enough for two ships to pass through. Each tooth was bigger than Roth and hooked like a sickle. The lower mandible was buried below the flowing sand while the upper hooked up and finished with a large pointed horn.
“That would be a rock wurm,” answered Roth’s gravelly voice. Milette squeaked with his sudden appearance.
King Auger followed him out of the doorway. He rose his hammer-hand to the colossal skull. “Pass through the ancient maw of Kumahl and be welcomed to the City of Morthain. You are the first outsiders in many cycles to lay eyes upon it.”
Cole arched his neck, trying to imagine what a creature that size would look like. Judging by the height of the skull, the wurm could have wrapped itself around the entire city. The rusty horn looked just as capable of cutting through mountains as it would sand.
They passed through the jaws, arriving a few minutes later at the Morthain docks. Workers operated heavy glass machinery, loading and unloading other ships. Eyes peeked out from alleys and windows, eager to see the outsiders on the King’s ship. They followed King Auger and his guards off the gangway and onto the pier. A loud crack and flash of sparks brought raised weapons and angry eyes to Goran, who had snapped the bonds from his wrists and ankles and was carrying the broken pieces in his mouth.
Saving The Dark Side Book 2: The Harbingers Page 9
