Sea of Revenants (Nysta Book 6)

by Lucas Thorn

  Who were they praying to?

  Nysta didn’t know.

  What were they praying for?

  Nysta didn’t know.

  They bent themselves against the ground, foreheads touching the backs of their hands resting on the stone. Palms facing the ceiling. A frozen wind crawled into the room, brushing against the young Nysta’s neck. She’d shivered.

  Slowly, one of the priestesses lifted herself. Turned and aimed her face toward hers. Nysta’s heart had ceased to beat in that moment as the other woman’s pale violet eyes stared back at her. Into her.

  Without expression, the priestess glided in silence. An apparition more than flesh, she reached for Nysta with cold hands. Cupped the young urchin’s face in her hands and leaned in close. Pressed her forehead against Nysta’s own.

  She’d felt her sweat chill against the priestess’s skin.

  And then the unearthly woman spoke. “Veil blesses you,” she’d said. Voice so soft it was like the creak of a spider’s web.

  “She gave me no blessings,” Nysta retorted. “Just curses.”

  The priestess, forehead still pressed close, smiled wanly. “Veil’s curses are cruel,” she said. “They bring death with savagery and stealth. Yet, here you stand. In her temple. And you are alive. You bear the blood of your enemy still wet on your skin. Any curse you may have carried, it was not her doing. And with the spilling of blood, you have surely stripped that curse away. Lift your head, Child of Veil. Feel her blessing in your hands. Hands which know strength and will never yield again.”

  The urchin looked down at her matted clothing, suddenly shamed. “He screamed.”

  “Of course he did,” the priestess pulled her head away and looked down with a smile the elf recognised later as pride. Pride not in Nysta’s words, but in her deeds. “You come here to join the Jukkala. Do you know the origin of this word?”

  Nysta shook her head. Felt a lighting flash of bitterness. “There ain’t many teachers in the alleys.”

  “It means curse.” She smiled even wider, showing a humour which refused to mirror in her eyes. “Your enemy screamed, Nysta, because the curse of Veil scars deep into the soul.”

  Unsure why this memory had surfaced, the elf found herself leaning above the dying young woman. She closed her eyes, feeling the burning of tears she couldn’t shed. Slowly pressed her forehead to Saja’s in echo of that first time.

  And whispered, without knowing why; “Veil blesses you.”

  The worms shivered inside, then scooted like startled fish. Burrowing into flesh as though searching for a hiding place.

  Saja breathed out, entire body relaxing as she sank back.

  “Boga, Nysta,” she breathed. “His name was Boga.”

  “And you killed him,” the elf said. Voice like gravel as she pushed the name into her memory. As her sweat mingled with the young woman’s blood. “You hit him in the face with your axe.”

  “I didn’t run. Didn’t give in. Out there, in the courtyard. The sun was shining. Sky was blue. So blue. I could hear the gulls, Nysta. They cried. Like they knew. Knew what Maks was doing. Knew what Nath has done. And I heard the waves. I couldn’t give in. I fought and fought.”

  “You didn’t yield. You refused to yield. The blood of your enemies is wet on your skin.”

  “I cursed them.” Soft words which made the elf shiver. “I cursed them all.”

  Saja’s body arched suddenly and she let out a whine from somewhere deep inside. So deep it made the elf flinch. But she kept her forehead pressed against the young woman’s. In remembrance of a faith she’d never felt.

  Then the woman went limp, her body feeling like it melted away into the stone floor. Trembled in the final quakes of cataclysm.

  “Saja?”

  “Hit him once. Blood everywhere.” A last breath in the dark. “It was beautiful.”

  And then she was gone.

  The elf remained in place, unmoving. Unable to speak. Unable to scream. But feeling the steady grind in her belly as hatred mauled the emptiness from her guts and filled her veins with venom.

  Finally, she lifted her head to peer at the murky ceiling. Eyes unfocussed as she sought any hint of the Shadowed Halls above. And when she spoke, she spoke to the echoes of Saja’s life.

  “I ain’t ever known the right things to say. And a lot of fellers ain’t too fond of how I say it. But I’ll be your curse, Saja. I’ll scar them deep.” She drew her lips back into a cruel grin. “I fucking swear.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  How long before they’d return for her?

  This was the question which seared her thoughts.

  Nath had said he’d be back for her in the morning. But how long had she been unconscious? Minutes? Hours? There was no way to tell. No light from outside to guess the time of day. Just a feeble glow from the torches in the corridor which gasped under the door.

  Few sounds other than the slow trickle of water dribbling down the wall.

  Sometimes a despairing cough from another cell.

  A ragged burst of sobs.

  A rhythmic tap as someone beat at their door with their fist. Or their foot. Maybe even their head. It didn’t last long.

  She would have beat her own door in frustration and anger, but she still couldn’t move either hand. Couldn’t even twitch a finger. The palms of both were swollen to horrible size and she could feel the worms squirming through every fibre of flesh. It was like a nest of ants had taken residence in her arms and were crawling through everything. Skin. Meat. Even the marrow of her bones.

  But no matter how determined they were to knit her wounds, they wouldn’t heal in time.

  She had to think.

  Had to figure a way out of here. And then a way to do what she’d promised.

  Kill them all.

  She sat with her back to the wall. Legs up. Wrists resting on her knees. Watching blood drool from her fingers.

  And couldn’t think of anything.

  Kick the door down? Then what? Sneering at her helplessness, she felt patience boiling to be released from its own prison of frustration and rage. A prison which was strangling her hope with every passing second.

  Then, a scuffle. Boots. A trail of lightly-trodden steps.

  Padding toward her door.

  Were they coming? No. They wouldn’t creep down the hall. They’d come filled with bravado and confidence. Hands fisting axes and swords. Shouting their intentions to burn the ears from her head and beat her senseless again.

  Whoever it was, they paused outside the door.

  Leaned against it.

  Fumbled with the lock, then froze.

  Stretching the silence with a few snatched-breaths and nervous scratching of boots on the ground in front of Nysta’s cell.

  The small grate which served as a peephole was swung open with a rusted squeak, and a voice spoke through though she wasn’t tall enough to peer inside.

  “Nysta? Are you in there?”

  The elf grunted, unsure what to think as she recognised the voice. “Reckon I ain’t going anywhere right now, Nearne.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll heal.” The elf looked down at her ruined hands and sighed. “Eventually.”

  “I didn’t want this,” the young girl whispered urgently. “I wanted to go with Mija. She has family in Dragonclaw. We were going to sail there. I was going to be free. Free from – well. From everything, I guess. I didn’t betray you. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know-”

  The girl’s voice broke off in a strangled choke as regrets ate her words.

  “Don’t sweat it, kid,” the elf said. Nysta’s emotions fenced for control. Hate the girl, or pity her? Because her heart burned with hate for Nath and Maks, she chose pity. It was all she had left for the fledgling Grey Jacket spy.

  “Do you hate me?”

  “Maybe a little,” the elf admitted. “But I reckon there’s other fellers I’d rather get my hands on. Reckon you should know your mother’s probab
ly one of them.”

  “She’s not my ma,” Nearne hissed, bitterness turning the girl’s voice cold. “I don’t know who my real parents are. They took me from them when I was little. I can’t even remember my real ma’s face. Just her eyes. She had eyes like mine. Violet like yours. But I don’t think they wanted me around. Or maybe they couldn’t. I don’t know. I do know they wanted me to be like Dalle, you see. To spy on people. For a while, I thought it would be fun. They taught us games. Fun games. But they’re not really games, are they?”

  “No. They ain’t.”

  “When we came here, Nath sent us to watch Rockjaw. Nath didn’t trust him. He said Rockjaw used to be someone important. He thought Rockjaw was a spy, like us. But he’s not. He’s just very sad. And lonely. Dalle used that. She uses your feelings. That’s what we were shown. Use their feelings and make them love you. Then you talk. That’s all. Just talk.” The girl lowered her voice again, worried guards might pass by. “When I saw him, I wanted to trick him. Like with the games. I wanted to win. I like to win. But he was nice to me. He told me stories all the time. That’s how I learnt all about elfs. I loved those stories most of all. Do you know any stories about elfs? Not pretend ones. Real ones. Real stories?”

  Nysta exhaled slowly. “Kid, I really ain’t in the mood for telling stories right now.”

  “I’m sorry.” She could hear Nearne press herself hard against the door as though trying to hide inside the grain. “I’m ashamed, Nysta. That’s the first thing they teach us to be. We should beg Rule’s forgiveness. All the time. Every day. We’re born with sin, you see. We can’t be forgiven. Not properly. We can only Accepted, and that’s not the same thing as being forgiven is it? But I don’t want to be ashamed. I’ve always done what they told me to. And I never hurt anyone. But I’ve hurt Mija now. And Rockjaw. I’ve hurt them bad. I can’t bear it anymore. I can’t live this way. I just can’t. I have to get away, before I turn into them. Before I begin to think how they do. Before I hate like they do. Will you take me with you? Take me to Dragonclaw? I can find my own way after that. I won’t be a burden! Please, Nysta. Please don’t leave me here…”

  The girl’s voice trailed off as she slumped to her knees in front of the elf’s cell. As she put her hands up to cup her eyes and catch tears which burned free to slide down gently curving cheeks.

  In the dark, Nysta looked to the ceiling and pulled her lips back into a humourless grin and wondered what Talek would be thinking if he could see her now. Sitting in a prison with her hands busted up. Listening as a young Leiberslander spy begged for help.

  Had she known what Nearne was when they’d first met, she’d have happily dragged A Flaw in the Glass across the girl’s throat.

  Spat on her corpse.

  But now, with the girl’s muffled crying in her ears, she was reminded only of the urchin she’d been on the streets of Lostlight. The times she’d leaned against doors locked and barred against her. Weeping in the dark.

  Begging for help.

  And getting nothing.

  Her teeth clicked as she worked her jaw. Spat on the ground, expelling the taste of old bitter memories. Lifted broken hands and showed them to the door. “I ain’t exactly in any condition to take you anywhere. Even if I got out of here? Even if we got halfway down the corridor out there? Well, I don’t reckon I’m going to be killing anyone for a while. Best I could do is maybe get the fuck out of here. Hide up in the forest out there. Heal up. Then I’d come back. Make them pay for everything. And I don’t mean no offence, but you’d be useless to me. A burden I can’t carry right now.”

  The girl’s crying died and she pushed herself to her feet again. Still pressed against the door. Not moving away.

  “I don’t need you to protect me,” she said. A shard of flint in her voice. “I can protect myself.”

  “You’re just a kid,” Nysta said, only half-sneering. Remembering herself at this girl’s age. Remembered the animal cunning she’d developed. The innate understanding of how closely aligned survival and violence will always be. But she doubted the girl had reached that kind of knowledge. And if she had, she doubted she truly understood it. “It ain’t as easy as that.”

  Nearne thumped the door with her fist. “You saw a child because that’s what you were supposed to see. That’s what they trained me to show you. I’m a spy, remember? I deceived you. Deceived Mija. Deceived Rockjaw. I’m not a child. Not a little girl. Not a kid. None of those things. Not anymore. Maybe I never was. They broke me. Broke me into little pieces. And now all I want is to get away so I can put them back together and find out who I am. What I am. I wasn’t asking you to protect me. I just wanted you to take me with you. And from what the guards said they did to your hands, maybe it’s not me who needs you. Maybe it’s you who needs me.”

  The girl’s words stung.

  Because they were true.

  Which turned the twisted grin onto her face into a mocking one. One which mocked herself. “Reckon I owe you an apology, Nearne,” she said. “Sounds like you mean what you say. But it ain’t easy seeing things your way when we’re both on different sides. In more ways than one…”

  “What if I open the door for you?”

  The elf’s heart skipped a beat as something else occurred to her. “Is this a Grey Jacket game, Nearne? Are you here to get me to come out so Maks and his bastard friends can give me another kicking? Is that what happened to Saja?”

  “It’s not a game.” The girl’s voice was firm. Injected with determination. “They trained me. Trained me to infiltrate. To sabotage. And more besides. Things I didn’t want to know. Well. I used what they showed me. I snuck down here. I told the guard I was lost. Told him I wanted to see what happened to you. Everyone’s talking about you. About what you did in the Deadlands. They’re afraid of you. He told me where you were. Which cell. I pretended to be scared. I started to cry. And then, when he was close, I stabbed him in the neck with a knife. Your knife.”

  “My knife?”

  “Yes. I have your knives. All of them.” The girl paused, biting back more tears before continuing with a gulp. “I’ve got them all in a bag here. All except the one I used on him. I couldn’t get it free. I knew how to kill him, but I’ve never hurt anyone before. It wasn’t as easy as I thought. And the way the knife stayed there, sticking out of him? I couldn’t touch it. Not with all the blood. I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve got his key?”

  “It was on the table next to him. I took it.”

  “Open the door, Nearne.”

  “In a minute.” Her voice firmed. “I told you. I’m not a child. So, I want your promise. You’ll take me with you. You won’t leave me here.”

  “Shit.”

  “You can’t promise?”

  “It ain’t that, kid,” she said with a grimace. “It’s just not long ago I decided I’d keep all my promises. Seems that since then I’ve been making too many of them. Novelty’s starting to wear thin. But you open that door, and you give me my knives. You do that, and I’ll take you as far as I can. After that, you’re on your own. I ain’t rated for parental guidance.”

  “I understand.” She was quiet again. Breathless. But something stopped the young girl from immediately unlocking the door. “Nysta?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Please don’t hurt me. I’m not like them. I’m really not. I promise.”

  Some of the hate loosened from her belly and slid away like loose tiles. She nodded. “I know.”

  She didn’t rise.

  Just sat in the corner of her cell, opposite Saja’s corpse, and waited as the young girl fumbled with the keys. Then stayed where she was as the door slowly creaked open.

  Watched as Nearne moved cautiously inside, carrying a small lantern in one hand. A sack in the other. The young girl’s eyes flicked nervously away from the elf’s glittering stare and she caught sight of the body.

  Gasped.

  “Relax, Nearne,” the elf said. “She’s dead. And she won’t h
aunt you.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tightened her lip into a thin line. “I haven’t seen bodies before today.”

  “Stay around me, and you’ll be seeing more than your fair share,” the elf said. Nodded to the heavy-looking sack. “Those mine?”

  She thrust them out, still afraid. “I got them for you. It wasn’t easy. But I knew you’d want them.”

  “Ain’t sure I can use them right now,” the elf said, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice. Failing.

  “Oh!” Nearne skipped forward, dumping the sack beside Nysta’s leg. She reached out and took the elf’s hand with a rush and stared at the horrifying wound. Looked back over her shoulder, half-expecting a guard to come rushing into the room. Panic and despair creased her brow. “Now what? What are we going to do?”

  “Give me a second. I’m working on it.”

  “It must hurt so much.” Nearne bowed her head and her body shook. “I didn’t bring anything. I should have thought. Should have brought something for you. Some ointments? Maybe I can sneak back upstairs?”

  An idea trickled into her head. A crazy idea. “Forget it. I don’t need any alchemist’s potions. I heal fast. Maybe not fast enough to make a difference. But fast.”

  “The pain. Why aren’t you screaming?” She reached up and cupped the side of her head. Pressing hard against her ears. Pushing. “It hurts so much, having a part of you cut up like that. When they took my ears, the pain was too much. And it hasn’t stopped. I feel it all the time. And sometimes, I feel them there, like ghosts. They itch and I can’t scratch them. Some people say it’s like that when you lose a leg or something. I know they’re gone. I know they won’t grow back, but-”

  “What the fuck are you saying?” The elf’s soul was utterly still. The world lurched and tilted as the girl’s words penetrated her mind like a serrated knife. “Your ears? They cut your fucking ears?”

  “We all have to give our ears,” Nearne said. “That’s the sacrifice. That’s how we get to be Accepted. Rule doesn’t like our ears. He can’t stand to see them. If we sacrifice our ears, he accepts us despite our sins. I thought you knew? They say that’s why elfs hate us so much.”