by Ashley Capes
More rumbling from deep below.
Never stopped pacing. Ruveo and Ferne had tried all the sconces and moved away from the wall as each began to shudder. A series of stone clunks followed as the sconces disappeared into the wall.
Water gushed forth.
“Wonderful.”
Ferne and Ruveo burst into argument, each assigning blame. Never resumed pacing – or splashing, as within moments, the water had reached his ankles.
“How’s that idea coming along, Never?” Luis asked. He was wiping his hands on his pants, repeating the motion.
“Don’t rush me, dear Luis.” But fast or slow, it didn’t make much difference. The well of clever ideas had dried up – or, rather, it was drowning. He’d exhausted them getting everyone into the death trap. Another cruel joke courtesy of the Gods? How vicious, their sense of humour.
“Break the ceiling.” Luis said. “Climb us, we’ll stand on each other’s shoulders.”
Never frowned up at the ceiling. They’d probably reach it – but it wouldn’t work. “The quartz will be too strong.”
“We should try.” His eyes were wide.
“You go last then, you’re the lightest.”
Luis nodded, moving off to explain his plan to Ferne. The big man agreed, bracing himself against the wall. Never climbed up next, then Ruveo. The man dug his boots into Never’s shoulders but he ignored the pain. It was worth it if they survived. Luis climbed up next, the stack wobbling a moment.
“Hurry it up,” Ferne said. “Water’s at my knees already.”
Never craned his neck. Luis was visible between Ruveo’s pant legs. The spearman had drawn a heavy knife. He smashed the pommel into the quartz. The sound rang out.
“Anything?” Ruveo asked.
“No.” Luis gave it more whacks, rocking the tower of flesh and bone, a faint chipping sound echoing in the chamber. He soon stopped. “It’s too thick.”
“Get down then,” Ferne growled.
Once Never stood back on the floor – now waist deep in water – he un-slung his pack and opened it. At the bottom, wrapped in oiled cloth and sealed in a hard case lay the precious Amber Isle map. Would it survive the water?
He snorted. Would he himself?
He tucked the map in his belt and left the pack and its provisions to the water. The sconces were soon submerged and the rushing sound eased, hidden beneath the rising pool. Within moments he was treading water. Ruveo swam around the chamber, searching the walls, his expression dark. Luis still held his spear in one hand and Ferne was glowering up at the ceiling.
The rising water quickened; as if more sconces had opened or more water rushed in from below. The ceiling approached as the surface-water drew him up.
“Gods be damned,” Ferne shouted.
A fine sentiment, Never decided. Damn everything.
He was so close to the truth! Only to fail now? No. The water pushed him close enough that he could touch the quartz and he drove his fist up, striking the smooth surface again and again. Blood covered his knuckles but he kept on, even as the water continued to rise. A strange hissing followed but he didn’t stop. Just another phase in the drowning, no doubt.
His punches finally slowed when the water reached his neck but he screamed one last blow as water closed over his head. In the silence, cold invaded his nose, ears and eyes. Nearby, the others struggled to beat against the quartz, to no avail. A black mist of blood trailed his hand.
Bubbles exploded around him.
He flinched, but found himself powerless, forced upwards, gaining speed, as if the water below shoved at him. Something was...the quartz...where had it gone? Water pushed until his back hit something sharp.
He screamed and bubbles burst from his mouth.
And then he was free, cast up and out from the chamber to tumble across hard quartz. He sucked in air where he lay, staring up at the open sky. The stinging pain in his back gradually returned. He propped himself up on his elbows, wincing at the movement.
Water still pumped from an opening. Luis was already free and Ruveo pulled himself out before turning back to haul Ferne up. They stood, coughing and spluttering until a cracking sound split the air.
A huge slab of quartz broke, dumping the two back into the chamber.
Never started forward, as did Luis, but the opening was large enough that the treasure hunters simply climbed free again. Everyone was smiling. Luis laughed and even Ferne nodded to himself as he stood on the outcropping of stone that ringed the quartz. Water continued to rise, near to spilling over the edges.
“What happened?” Ruveo asked.
“I have no idea,” Luis said. “Pressure from the water weakened the quartz? Maybe there was a fault line?”
“And you hitting it with your pommel set it off?”
“Or Never’s blows.”
Never shook his head. “I’m not that strong.” But once he’d checked on the cut on his back he kept his hand out of sight.
But something had happened. His blood. What had the hissing sound been? Had his very blood been...eating through the quartz? Had that exposed the fault line? Or the door to enter the Isle, the one that stabbed him, had it responded to his blood?
It didn’t matter now – it only mattered that the others knew nothing.
“Look at this.” Ferne’s voice was quiet. He faced away from the chamber below; the water from which was still climbing. Never joined him, stepping carefully along the edges of the quartz, then up to the stone embankment.
The grey sea stretched below, crashing into a reef that ringed the island. Piled among the jagged stones were boats. Hundreds of them. Some were old and withered, coated white with brine, others still holding enough colour to suggest recent grief. Longboats, small boats, even the hull and headpiece from a ship – it was so dense that Never could imagine walking across it and barely touching water. A few masts stood, leaning or broken in half. On one, a tattered scrap of rag stirred in the sea breeze.
Everywhere he turned, more boats. They ringed the entire island, sometimes extending dozens of yards. Like a second, vast graveyard for boats.
“What is this?” Luis whispered.
“The reason no-one sails so close,” Ferne said.
“What do we do now then?” Ruveo asked, his tone almost disinterested. Tediously pragmatic, was Ruveo.
Never shaded his eyes. No islands stood close at hand, none even bore the hint of a bridge. The sides of the peak they stood upon were steep, but it was their only chance. Swimming back down into the chamber to try and open the door was madness.
“We go down there and find a way to light a fire. And pray Luis didn’t lose that pipe –I doubt the sea-creatures have finished with us.”
Luis raised the reed. “It’ll need to be dried out. Will it work this time?”
“No idea,” Never said.
Ferne spat. “Let’s go down and find out – I’m cold.”
Chapter 9.
The climb down the peak was unpleasant but a cave at the bottom was a fine reward. It looked out across the small wood, sea crashing beyond, and offered a clear view of any who approached. On this island, that meant sea-creatures.
“Inventory,” Ferne said. He stood in his undergarments, clothing lain out to dry on the rocks around the cave mouth.
Never had his cloak and jacket out there.
Luis raised a hand, counting off the items he listed. “We have Never’s knives. That’s one each but I can use mine to make some simple spears. I can’t fire the heads unless we get a blaze going. We have water if we want to climb up and get it, but nothing to store it in. No food but I still have the pipe.”
“Think it’ll work?”
He shrugged. “Did it seem something was driving them on, down there?”
Ferne nodded and even Ruveo mumbled agreement.
“They were different,” Never said. “Older maybe.”
“How can you tell?”
“The scales looked thicker, the faces more formed. Sligh
tly.”
Ferne nodded. “First priority – food. Luis, take Ruveo and search the wood. Bring back fuel too.”
“What shall we do then?” Never asked.
“Scout and talk.”
“Very well.”
Never joined Ferne as he crossed the uneven ground surrounding the cave, angling away from the wood. A broken path, or the echoes of one, led toward the faint roar of the ocean. They paused at a flat site, where stumps from columns continued to crumble into the ground. He bent by the base of one to brush dust from the familiar symbol of leaves, carved in miniature.
“A temple?”
Never nodded. “Surely. It sits on a position overlooking a good deal of the island.”
He followed the trail down toward the water, which waited below a sheer drop. More boats crashed apart on the reefs. Just like on the opposite side of the isle. And just like on the other side, the wooden boneyard stretched around the island as far as he could see. Ferne joined him and shook his head. “See that squared hull, directly beneath us?”
“Old Vadiya ship.”
“Right.”
“People have been meeting their doom here for a long time, it seems.”
“They have.”
Never spun the knife he carried – his favourite, with the bone inlay. “Think we’re any different than the fools who’ve come before us?”
“We have you, don’t we?”
“Flattered.”
“Think it’s time you told me how you know what you know?” Ferne’s beard was still dripping.
Never sighed. The man did seem to be running short on patience. And it wouldn’t hurt to share a little truth, after all. If he didn’t keep practising, he’d forget how. “I memorised this.” He held up the canister. “A map I stole from beneath the Imperial City.”
Ferne raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”
“It was a feat,” he said with a grin. “But there’s nothing on it that helps with being stuck above the passageways.”
“How close are we?”
“To the centre of the Amber Isle?”
“To the Sea King’s Jewels.”
Never lifted an eyebrow. “Assuming they lie in the same place.”
“My sources say so.”
He shrugged; the jewels hardly mattered. “The spoked chamber was a matter of three doors away from the heart, according to the map.”
“Damn creatures.” Ferne spat again. A wind picked up, stirring his hair and the matt of fur that covered his chest. Never shivered. His clothes had better dry quickly; he wasn’t going to climb everywhere half-naked. And to add to it all, a sweat had formed at his temples despite the soothing breeze. Welcome back, fever – you were missed.
The big man started back toward the temple, this time heading for the higher ground beyond. It was rockier, spotted with stunted bushes of deep green that grew close to the ground, as if huddling down, cringing away from the elements.
“How did you hear of the map?”
Never climbed a steep slope. “Two thieves in the city were drinking at the Water-Petal. Talking about it. Know it?”
“I do.”
“One of them heard of a map that supposedly carried secrets of the Amber Isle – not the way to it, but within. He thought it was hidden in the library beneath the palace and he was right. I followed them in and took it first.”
“Sneaky bastard.” There was a hint of admiration in his chuckle.
Never shrugged. “They were dead at the time, so neither noticed.”
Ferne cast a glance at him, pausing at the top of the rise.
“The Vadiya killed them. I barely got out alive myself.” There’d been a lot of swearing and cursing during his escape. But it was their own fault for failing to watch the waterways. Still, Harstas and his Steelhawks hadn’t given up. They were persistent at least. Although, little chance they’d reach the Amber Isle.
“Bastards are everywhere,” Ferne said.
Never nodded as he turned a half-circle. Out on the water, something caught the afternoon sun. He took half a step forward. Sails. Still distant, but their course appeared to be circling the Chain. He gestured. “Your ship?”
Ferne squinted. “I don’t think so. The sails look wrong.”
“More treasure hunters?”
“Could be. Enough have tried.” He shrugged. “Let’s keep looking.”
Never gave the ship another look. Stay away, fellows. He moved on, turning to a new ruin on another spacious, levelled-off area. “There.”
He hurried over, Ferne’s heavy tread following. A low stone wall sloped away to nothing, but beyond, in the centre of what might have been a large square, sat a well. Its own wall was worn down but there was a suggestion of water below in the darkness. Where did the water come from? The Amber Isle was beyond mysterious.
He tapped the stone with the hilt of his knife. “A way back into the passages below?”
Ferne’s expression wasn’t one of confidence. “I say we keep looking.”
Never scooped up a rock and dropped it down. A faint splash returned. “How about we eat first then come back?”
“Good idea.”
*
Their meal comprised of roots and berries; not the most filling of feasts, but once their clothes were dry enough they headed up to the ruins in the evening light, which suited Never. Better than struggling to start a fire and waiting for the creatures to return.
“Search for a way back to the tunnels,” Ferne said.
The others spread across the ruin as Never checked the well. The depths remained black. No way to know whether it eventually led down to the passages or not. He toyed with another rock as he leant against the ruined stonework. Still, it wouldn’t take long to find out. All he had to do was climb down and check.
If the ruins were of a sophisticated keep or castle, then the owners would have built access passages for maintaining their water source, which would have been scarce on an island, precious even. It had to collect somewhere. He dropped the stone inside and hoisted a leg over the small wall before glancing to the others. Ferne was close by, moving between narrow walls, his head visible over the crumbling stone.
“Ferne, I’m going to check the well.”
The man paused. “Waste of time.”
“I’ll be quick.” He grinned when Ferne waved a hand and moved on. Never climbed over and searched for the first rung with his foot. He paused.
Where was the splash? First time he dropped a stone there’d been a splash. This time, nothing. Had calling to Ferne masked the sound? It didn’t make sense, but then, it didn’t matter. Unless something had changed below.
He stepped down, testing each rung.
He’d find out soon enough.
Darkness grew around him until the light was a small white circle high above. The sounds from the passage of water had grown as he descended and he stopped when his final footfall found air. The water was close. He swung around, one arm still holding the rung, and strained his eyes.
Only the faintest wisps of light graced the water’s surface. Damp stone walls rose around him but across from the narrow flow waited a darker opening...it might lead to a dead end.
It might lead back to the maze.
Best to tell the others in any event. He started back up.
Water erupted.
Never spun. Something dark snapped around his ankle. It pulled, tearing him from the ladder. He shouted when his head struck stone, then cold water swallowed him.
Chapter 10.
Never woke to a golden light and the streaming sound of water, chill stone beneath his back. His head throbbed and blood raged beneath the surface of his skin; the damn fever hadn’t let up. An amber dome towered above. Both ceiling and walls gave off their own warm glow. The Amber Isle...
He struggled his way to a sitting position, wincing at a stinging pain in his shoulder, then froze.
Scores of sea-creatures surrounded him.
All silent. Some stood in large
groups while others stood alone, their sloping faces still. Bright eyes glittered with fear. His own had to mirror theirs. Never twisted slowly. More rows of the things. There was no way he could escape.
And yet... He was actually alive. What had happened in the water? Had they brought him here? Gods, why? And why did his shoulder sting? When he touched his shoulder his hand came away sticky with blood. The creatures nearest flinched back.
Never pushed slowly to his knees.
On the floor behind him lay a blood-covered sea-creature. Red mixed with green ichors that coated the body, appearing a deep black in the dim light. His curse saved him? Figure it out later. Time to leave.
Never stood and the sea creatures fell away, emitting wet gurgles.
He took more blood from the wound in his shoulder – no doubt from a barb – and smeared it across both hands. He lifted his arms and stepped forward. The creatures parted in a ripple of green scales. Some stumbled over one another in an effort to stay back. How long would it last? His veins tingled and his pulse leapt, but the further he moved from the body the less he’d be able to call upon his blood. And without an open wound on any of the creatures...but they didn’t know that. Never parted the crowd, boots squelching.
He crossed a huge room, ringed by many-chambered amber walls – not unlike the inside of a bee-hive. Only the chambers were larger and green figures lay within some; the rest obviously sharing the floor with him as he walked.
A creature hissed as he passed. He spun, hand outstretched. A drop of blood flew from the tip of his finger. The hideous things threw themselves to the ground.
“Back,” he shouted. “Stay back.”
He quickened his pace, not a run, but swift steps nonetheless. The same five-pointed leaf symbol covered the stone he crossed. At the rear of the chamber waited a large archway and a passage beyond. Once inside, he broke into a jog. He flashed by empty chambers, all lit by the same sourceless glow, before stopping at stairs.
This was the Amber Isle. He’d found another part of the puzzle – only to discover it full of hideous sea-creatures. “Gods, how you taunt me with glimpses of my goal,” he whispered.
