A blade glinted in front of her. Serena skidded across the floor, sliding past the marble knight. The point of its sword struck the ground.
Gallows leapt across, his sword sweeping the statue’s.
‘Tunnel!’ he yelled. ‘There’s a gate!’
Serena sprinted across to the tunnel opening where they’d first been attacked, past the red scrawls, not knowing if there was another living statue waiting for her.
‘Right behind you—keep going!’
Serena dived into the tunnel and pulled Gallows through, the thudding steps of the statue close behind.
‘Close the gate!’
With a scrape and shower of rubble, Serena slammed the gate closed, pulling a bar across it. The statue’s sword pounded at the other side, but it held.
‘Gods damn…’ Serena stepped back, dragging breaths into her lungs. ‘Are they machines?’
Gallows leant on his knees and shook his head. ‘No idea.’
Serena took Gallows’ lamp and held it aloft, peering into the darkness beyond. ‘This better be godsdamn worth it.’
They delved deeper through the arched tunnel, the smell and taste of the air changing. Sweat rolled down Serena’s back. ‘Smells sweet down here. And musty.’
‘Incense,’ Gallows explained. ‘Probably a crypt.’
‘You’re the weirdest History teacher ever.’
‘Thanks, I’ll take that as a complim—’
‘Wait.’ Serena stopped. ‘You hear that?’
After a moment, Gallows said, ‘Yeah.’
There was something scratching against the wall ahead.
Gallows kept his sword levelled and led the way, for all the good his lamp was doing.
The scratching grew louder. No—more like grinding.
‘Serena, there’s something at the end of the chamber.’
He was right. As she got closer, Serena saw something standing in the shadows. ‘Is that an altar?’
‘Maybe a pedestal? The ignicite we saw outside—looks like it made its way in here. You can see it’s pushed a stone casket across the chamber.’
Serena stepped forward to get a closer look, and stood on something sharp. ‘Shit. Is that a trap?’
Gallows hunkered down. ‘No—weapons. Swords, knives, hand axes… And shell casings from a gun. There was a fight down here.’
‘Bullets?’
‘Yeah, modern ammunition. Guess we’re the last to the party.’
Meaning anything valuable’s been taken. Serena stepped over a lump of stone hewn into the shape of a knight’s helmet. ‘Looks like they got one of ’em.’
‘That grinding… It’s coming from over here…’ Gallows moved in the darkness. ‘Damn.’
Serena’s heart stopped. ‘What is it—another living statue?’
‘Yeah, but…’ Gallows leaned down. The light of the lamp flickered over a statue identical to the others—but the encroaching ignicite had enveloped its lower half, encasing its sword arm in dark amber.
But that didn’t stop it trying with its free hand—it grasped out at Serena, fingers creaking.
‘Son of a bitch.’ Serena took a step closer, edging around his grasping fingers.
‘Be careful.’
‘Its head’s cracked… There’s something glowing inside.’
‘Don’t get too close.’
Serena reached down to the floor, her fingers curling around the first weapon she found. The morning star. It didn’t weigh as much as Serena had reckoned it would. An iron ball with a dozen small spikes crowned it.
She held it high.
‘Serena…’
She brought it down hard on the living statue’s head. The existing crack widened, and the glow inside brightened.
Its arm kept moving, reaching out from the ignicite securing it to the wall.
Serena hit it again, and again, smashing the marble head into powder.
Still it struggled. Still its free arm grabbed at her.
She plunged a hand into its head, fingers grasping a glowing rock.
‘Careful, you got no idea what that is,’ Gallows warned.
‘Yeah, I do.’ Serena pulled a long, thin piece of glowing ignicite free. ‘I know machines, and this is its power source. It’s a lump of ignicite, except… machined into a narrow brick shape.’
She handed it to Gallows. His eyes widened. ‘No way… This is ignerium.’
‘What?’
‘Ignerium… Very rare. They’re formed after millennia, like diamonds in coal. Wherever ignicite came from, these things were the first of it. Possibly as old as the world itself.’
‘Gods,’ Serena sighed, ‘ignicite, ignium, igneus, ignogen and now ignerium… Someone needs a goddamn imagination.’
‘I thought you’d be more impressed.’
‘Whatever. How does it work, then? I know you’re desperate to tell me.’
‘Actually, I have no idea.’ Even in the low light, Serena saw Gallows’ awe. ‘Most people don’t even believe ignerium exists. Holy shit, if there’s one of these in each of those marble knights... They’ve been sitting here for thousands of years, dormant but still in working order. These stones could power the world forever…’ When Gallows spoke next, the awe had disappeared from his voice. ‘Or destroy it.’
After the ignogen bomb and the Night of Amberfire, Serena reckoned she knew which was more likely.
‘What do you wanna do with it?’ Serena asked.
Gallows stepped close to the pedestal. ‘There’s a hole in this…’ He placed the ignerium into a slot in the pedestal; in an instant, light flowed from it and spread through the walls. It spiralled out across the floor and climbed to the ceiling, bathing the room in golden-amber. Relief patterns of leaves and trees glowed on the walls and ceiling, all of them interconnected. A narrow, shallow reservoir running from the pedestal and out to the door flowed with honey-coloured light, trickling beneath the iron gate.
The sword striking the door stopped.
‘The warning light…’ Gallows muttered.
‘What?’
‘The message we found on the wall—I think it was telling us to turn the lights on before coming in.’
Serena shook her head. ‘So, the only way to read the warning about turning the lights on was to already have the lights turned on?’
‘Guess so. Whoever designed this place must have been a genius, or insane.’
‘And an asshole.’
‘So, if this is a crypt, then who’s in the casket?’
Serena inched closer to the simple stone coffin, her footsteps crunching on shards of marble. The hairs on her arms stood on end.
Gallows brushed past her and placed his hands on the edge of the lid. ‘Scared of a dead body?’
Serena gave him a sidelong glance. ‘I hope it’s Thruzgaz Blood-Dancer’s bigger brother.’
Gallows hefted the lid off; it scraped across the tomb and fell with a heavy thump.
Serena peered at the bones inside.
A smashed skull lay at the head of a pile of crushed bones. A shroud stitched with ornate patterns and decorations had been ripped apart.
Serena backed away, her stomach rolling.
‘Godsdamn,’ Gallows breathed. ‘Serena… I think this is—’
‘Musa.’ Serena couldn’t take her eyes from the cracked and broken skull.
The air turned thick and she struggled to breathe. Her body trembled.
This was a holy place, the final resting place of the Songstress, the first Siren.
‘Oh, Gods…’ Gallows muttered.
‘What?’ Serena asked, still staring. ‘What now?’
‘Nothing. Come on. We should go.’
‘What?’
Gallows couldn’t meet her eyes. ‘There’re more than one person’s bones in here. Serena, we should go.’
She wanted to throw up. Musa’s children. The ones in the painting.
‘Who would do this, Gallows?’ Serena’s eyes burned. ‘Say something.’
> ‘I’m sorry, Serena. I don’t have the answers.’
It had taken nearly everything she had to reach this place.
It had all been for nothing.
Gallows hauled the iron door open.
The marble knight stood with its sword pointed to the ground, hands resting on its pommel. The light from the ignerium flowed through to the antechamber they’d come through, illuminating everything.
There were more scrawls on the wall, most of them concentrated on one area.
Serena trudged out behind Gallows, her limbs sagging and eyes itching. Her body and mind cried out for rest.
And the song.
She’d never be rid of it.
‘We’ll rest up in Frosthaven ’til Myriel recovers,’ Gallows said. ‘Then we’ll figure out our next move.’ He was looking at the glowing patterns on the wall—they were geometric, not like the leaf and tree patterns in Musa’s room. His lips moved in silence as he read the scrawls. ‘This isn’t the old tongue.’
Serena didn’t say anything. She wasn’t ready to go back to Frosthaven, or anywhere else. She wasn’t ready to think.
‘Serena… Here… This language, it’s modern.’
‘How recent?’
‘Um, in the past hundred years, going by the language—but that’s a damn sight more recent than the tomb.’
‘What’s it say?’
The light running through the walls ebbed and flowed. ‘“The Seat of Knowledge…” These scrawls ain’t the ramblings of a madman. Serena, they’re directions.’ Gallows stood back from the wall, tracing the glowing lines. They formed a wide circle that was filled with decreasing circles, scrawls and criss-crossing lines.
Then he started laughing. ‘This room is a map… And a blueprint.’
‘You’re not making sense.’
‘I know where this is. It’s Palthonheim, the Scholar City.’
Palthonheim. Myriel had talked of it with Serena; it was destroyed and covered in the same radiation as Irros’ Bounty.
‘Maybe whoever raided this tomb planned on transporting Musa’s remains to Palthonheim… Or built Palthonheim.’
Serena stepped back—nothing made sense.
Now that they were deactivated, Serena took the opportunity to examine a marble knight, the one that still had a sword. Its surface was smooth and cold. She nudged its arm, and though its old joints ground when it moved, its arm stayed in position. What technology could make these things? Were they Musa’s protectors? She caressed its smooth shoulders and back. Her thumb glided over the base of its skull—and a panel slid open.
Serena’s hand recoiled. There weren’t any lines or markings to indicate an opening—everything was flush.
The hell…?
The glow of the ignerium inside pulsed.
Serena reached in and took it.
The statue’s shoulders slouched forward.
Serena tucked the stone into her pocket, and took the other one from the statue Gallows had disarmed.
‘Those things have a lot of power,’ warned Gallows. ‘Might not want to carry ’em.’
‘I’m used to carrying a lot of power.’
‘Yeah, about that.’ Gallows ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Listen, Serena... I tried telling you back in your hospital bed, but the pirates weren’t after you—they wanted me. Your power didn’t cause all this, it was all Arnault—he ordered Ventris to capture us to get to me. If I’d stayed in Dalthea, none of this would’ve happened. He even sided with the Idari during Operation: Prevailing Wind—it’s because of him that Ryndara didn’t come to our aid when I was fighting in the Sanctecano Islands.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Damien told me—Arnault sent his ex-girlfriend after him and put me in the Challenge arena to lure Damien out of hiding. But if it wasn’t for me traipsing through Ryndara, Ventris wouldn’t have captured us. You’d have made it through Rhis and to Frosthaven much sooner—and Aulton Carney would be alive. Ventris was always gonna hit the Queen, but if Arnault wasn’t looking to get his son, you might have found a way to escape before Ventris burned the palace.’
‘Or Ventris would’ve killed us for the hell of it. Gallows—it’s like you’re always telling me: You’re not responsible for the actions of assholes. Okay?’
His mouth tightened and he struggled to meet Serena’s eye. ‘I guess all I’m saying is… Sorry.’
‘Yeah. Me, too.’
The Childhood’s End was to the Queen of the North like a fishing boat was to a galleon; Serena felt the change of every bearing in her belly, felt the pull of the wind every time it caught the envelope and jostled the airship. Gallows was a decent pilot, but he could only do so much in a rickety old first-gen against these elements.
The passenger quarters took up the rear third of the airship’s gondola. Bunks with bent frames and sleeping bags reeking with sweat hunched together—and the noisy churn of the ship’s aft propeller could wake the dead—so Serena contented herself with staying in what passed for a bridge. Gods know what Genevieve thought about all this.
A small life capsule was fixed inside the starboard side of the craft. It’d hold four people at most, and Serena noticed it was a lot closer to the bridge than the passenger quarters.
Wispy tendrils of the green aurora still swept through the sky, but it wouldn’t be long before the morning sun banished it.
Serena sat in the navigator’s position. Her chair swivelled more than it was supposed to, and the gondola’s wooden strakes didn’t stop creaking.
She’d never been on a first-generation airship before; she used to love listening to Fitz’s stories about them—but right now, the circumstances robbed her of all wonder. She found the absence of modern tech disconcerting, and missed the metallic smell of igneus fuelling thrusters.
The outer envelope was fixed to the gondola’s roof with ropes. Without a deck, the bulkheads closed in on her. It reminded her of Jozef’s boat, of solitude, and the years of sailing from place to place.
‘Got a couple hours yet, and a snowstorm could hit us any time—you can rest if you want.’ The sound of Gallows’ voice told Serena he could do with sleeping himself.
‘Yeah. Maybe.’
The cramped bridge was around half the size of the Liberty Wind’s. Machines more modern than the airship had been retrofitted at the expense of space—and even then, a lot of their casings and fixtures had rusted. Maplewood made up most of the bridge floor, but several planks had been replaced with cheaper and weaker pinewood. Belios, Frosthaven’s hanging by its teeth.
At least the brass ignometer possessed a good sheen—it allowed the pilot to keep an eye on the lifting gas available in the dozen ballonets stuffed inside the envelope. Serena reckoned it came from an airship much grander than the Childhood’s End.
The ship squeezed between narrow canyons malformed by ignicite, the rock stretching up like clawed fingers. Just one scratch could bring the ship down.
Gallows descended so low at one point, Serena reckoned she felt the propellers dig through a veneer of snow.
‘Oh, yeah.’
Gallows’ voice snapped Serena from her thoughts. ‘What?’
‘Here, take the wheel for a bit.’
Tingling ran up Serena’s arm. She’d taken control of the Liberty Wind a few times since leaving Dalthea, but always supervised by Gallows. ‘Really?’
‘Why not?’ Gallows stood and motioned for her to sit. ‘I’m barely flying it anyway.’
Serena eased herself into the pilot’s chair and slipped her foot into the strapped pedal controlling the ship’s aft propeller. Her fingers didn’t quite wrap around the wheel, but it was close enough. The airship rose and fell like a boat on a gentle wave. ‘Cool.’
Gallows set a brown paper bag onto the dash.
‘What’s that?’ Serena asked.
‘A gift.’ Gallows thrust his hand out. ‘I was gonna wait until the Twenty-Ninth of Lunos—’
‘Wintercast?’
‘Uh, well, that’s just it—it ain’t a Wintercast gift. Happy birthday, Serena.’
For a moment, Serena beamed. ‘For real?’
‘For real. So—was it a pain in the ass having a birthday on the same day as Wintercast? Did you get one gift for both?’
‘No,’ Serena answered. ‘Maybe if I had family to give me any presents.’
Gallows’ mouth fell open. ‘Oh. Right.’ He looked away and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Well, this is awkward.’
Serena clutched the gift and gave Gallows the pilot seat.
She ripped the bag open, mind racing as to its contents. She’d seen Gallows eyeing jade figurines and jewellery in Frosthaven—she wasn’t one for jewellery, but—
Her heart stilled.
‘It’s a wrench.’
‘Figured you’d be missing your old one. Looks good for smacking people in the mouth.’
Serena weighed it in her hands. ‘It’s good—it’s got adjustable teeth, no rust and an ergonomic grip. You found this in Frosthaven?’
‘Bartered with one of the workers. Never been used.’
‘What did you barter with?’
‘A sword.’
‘You gave him your shortsword?’
Gallows laughed. ‘Hells no, I gave him one of the Crimsoncloak’s. Worth twice as much as mine, but my sword means a lot to me.’
Serena clutched the wrench close to her chest. It wasn’t anything special, not really—but it was a reminder of who she was: Serena. Not the Siren with the power to reach into people’s minds, or the orphan who lived on a boat—but the girl who fixed broken pipes on airships and hauled barrels of rainwater—the Raincatcher who dreamt of owning her own airship and sailing the skies—the real Serena.
‘I love it. Thank you.’
‘Reckon it’ll come in handy when Heinrich makes you fix up this lumbering ball of wood-rot as payment for using it.’
Serena tossed the wrench in the air and caught it. ‘How’d you know when my birthday is?’
‘Damien told me when he rescued me. Guess he did his research back in Dalthea, or maybe Sister Catryn told him. So, is it true? Is Wintercast your birthday?’
Serena shrugged. ‘Ain’t got a clue. They asked me at the orphanage and it was the first date I thought of.’
Wrath of Storms Page 34
