The Last Sea God

by Ashley Capes

  “Meaning?” Grav asked, his eyes a little wide. Flir was beginning to think of the look as his regular face, so far out of depth was the poor fellow.

  “Meaning surprise is our best way forward,” she said. “Follow us when you can, it isn’t much of a drop. Kanis?”

  He shifted to the next window and lifted his leg. “Ready when you say.”

  Flir lifted her arm. “Now,” she said, then drove her fist into the centre of the spoke. The entire window shattered, bursting down into the room. The frame clanged on stone, echoed immediately by Kanis’ window.

  She leapt into the room, landing easily. “Throw me the lantern.”

  Kanis thumped down as a silhouette loomed above, it raised an arm to give her a moment to note the lantern before they released. She caught it and opened the hatch, lifting it as she turned.

  A wide chamber revealed men and women in plain smocks rising from cots, most shielding their eyes from the light but enough starting to shout and demand answers that Flir frowned at them. If the fools were any louder, they’d wake the dead. Admittedly, being torn from sleep by smashing glass was hardly pleasant but if the clamour alerted their mistress...

  “Please,” Flir shouted. “We are here to help you. Be calm.”

  Kanis was echoing her words and as Pevin dropped down the gathered people began to quiet, their questions of alarm changed to curiosity. One young man stepped forward. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes and his arms were bandaged. “Who are you?”

  “Can you really save us?” A younger woman said. She, too, appeared as weary as the others. Now that they had come closer, Flir saw around a dozen. Hardly an army, but surely enough Ice-Priests missing to have become a concern sooner?

  Of course, Mildavir had been stopping word getting out.

  Flir started to answer but a new voice interrupted. “No. They cannot.” An older woman with streaks of grey in her brown hair entered the light, turning to face the gathered people. “You know that; only the sorceress can break the link.”

  “What link?” Flir asked the woman.

  “What does it matter? Just flee, whoever you are,” she said, her eyes flat with near-despair. “Your good intentions are appreciated but you will only be killed, or worse, enslaved, if you stay here too long.”

  Kanis folded his arms. “We’re no regular fools, lady.”

  “Oh? Is that so?”

  “He’s half right,” Flir said. “We are not regular. Kanis and I are dilar. We can help.” She introduced herself, Pevin and pointed up to Grav and Aren.

  Now excited murmurs grew and the man who’d first spoken took the hand of the young woman. “You are? Maybe with your help we finally can escape this place.”

  “Even if that is true about them being dilar, they will fail,” the older woman said.

  “Have a little hope for once, Simina,” someone shouted.

  Simina’s jaw was clenched. “It would be false hope. Even dilar cannot break the link between our bones and that thing.”

  “What thing?” Flir asked.

  The young man came forward. “I am Tsaro, let me show you.” The Ice-Priests made way for him as he led them to the rear of the chamber, beyond the third window’s reach to where Flir’s light revealed thin bones coiled around a steel pole, rising up to a gaping set of jaws.

  “A snake?”

  “Yes,” Tsaro said. “It is what keeps us here. She showed us how it works – she forced Ekhar to run, offering him his freedom if he could escape.”

  “What happened?”

  “He’d barely taken ten steps through the door before he simply collapsed, dead.”

  Flir exchanged a glance with Kanis. “Has anyone tried to destroy it?”

  “Impervious to anything we can manage,” Simina said.

  Kanis hefted his mace. “Want me to try?”

  “No!” She leapt in front of the snake. “When we strike it we all feel the same pain.” She shook her head at Tsaro. “What were you thinking?”

  “I only meant to show them – but maybe we can ambush her, now that they’re here?”

  Simina did not appear convinced.

  “What can you tell us of her?” Pevin asked. Flir hadn’t even realised he’d not followed. Had he been searching for his brother?

  “She is a fell sorceress, far more powerful than anything or anyone I have ever encountered,” Simina replied.

  “Does she wear a bone mask?” Flir asked.

  “No. But her age is hard to determine. She wears a robe of white and we never know when she will appear – she does not seem to need doors. When she does arrive, some thug usually has water and food.” She glanced at the snake. “When they were cutting into us or hypnotising us to learn the Way of the Ice, they checked on us more often.”

  “Cutting you?” Kanis asked. “Why?”

  “To discover if she can replicate the way we manage the ice.”

  Tsaro swallowed. “If she can’t, she plans to take us with her.”

  “Where?” Flir asked.

  “Into the northern mountains. She says there is something there, trapped beneath a frozen lake that she needs. We will have to help her free it.”

  Pevin’s voice was wary. “A lake beneath Blackthorn Mountain?”

  “Yes,” Simina said. “Why? Do you know what she seeks?”

  “We do,” Flir said. “Bones.”

  The older woman frowned. “Bones, but why would she –”

  A booming buried her next words. It came from the opposite end of the cave, insistent and growing in force. Many of the Ice-Priests began to cower away, some going so far as to crouch behind the snake that kept them prisoner.

  “Is this the sorceress?” Kanis asked, shouting over the sound, a frown on his face.

  Simina, who had moved toward the booming, along with Tsaro, shook her head. “No, she comes without warning.”

  “This is something else,” Tsaro said, his eyes wide.

  Flir looked to Kanis and the others, their faces full of concern. There was one very real possibility, though she had no proof to offer, nothing but a new fear. The creature. Whether it had tracked them somehow or whether it had merely stumbled upon the Ice-Priests’ prison, did not matter for now.

  What mattered was protecting the priests – somehow she had to stop the creature.

  47. Notch

  Notch found himself seated on a raised wooden bench beside Lady Casselli, staring down at the Arena from beyond the ring of trees. The sandy area was broad enough for a pitched battle. From their vantage point there would be few moments where Alosus would be out of sight, yet they were still positioned beyond the safety of whatever invisible barrier the bone magic had created.

  “It’s old magic, all this safeguarding,” Casselli said when he asked about it, “but considering what your friend is going up against I do not mind the inconvenience.” She was glancing around at the other audience members, who’d filled the seating quite swiftly. The vast majority of which were made up of the royal family, which meant at least one hundred people. Others were guests – Notch had been allowed to attend, due to his status. He still drew his share of stares, both of mistrust and of naked interest.

  Lady Casselli herself had quickly arranged to accompany him, wanting him to begin work as escort right away – though she seemed to have spent as much time looking for Prince Tanere as anyone else.

  Doubtless he was the very conspirator Notch was meant to be distracting the Ecsoli from – though any who’d seen the Lady and Prince together had to have noticed the way the man stared at her. For Casselli’s part, she didn’t return his attention. “He pursues all women,” she said when Notch asked, not appearing perturbed that he’d guessed who she had aligned herself with. And perhaps it wasn’t a difficult thing to guess in any event. “The court will have little reason to see his interest as anything more than his usual need to bed a woman, as long as you are here, Notch. If I had no lover of my own, then there might be more eyebrows raised if the Prince and I wer
e seen together.”

  “Is that truly enough?” he asked. And more concerning, was it enough to turn unwanted attention his way? He did not need some Ecsoli noble mistaking him for an adversary. There was every chance he’d already taken that path.

  She shrugged. “For some, immersed as they are in their own scheming. For others, it will take more but do not worry. We are preparing for that.”

  A cry from the Arena prevented Notch from asking his next question, as Alosus was escorted between the trees and across the sand, where he stood waiting, his grand sickle in hand. He wore no armour but had added a huge bow and quiver to his weaponry.

  “Just what is he going up against? No-one will tell me,” Notch said.

  “It is called a roak. They live on a peninsular far to the east; it is very difficult to bring them here.” There was an excitement to her voice that detracted from her beauty, though she had, like all the ladies present, taken great care with her appearance once more. Was it at the prospect of seeing the roak? Or was it the fight and the promise of death?

  “He is my friend, Lady Casselli.”

  “Oh, I know – try not to fear. He has a chance.”

  “How so?”

  She shrugged. “I simply get a feeling about him.”

  “I hope it is true,” he said. “Can you describe the roak?”

  “Somewhat like a stag. Only it stands upon two feet and it has antlers running down its arms, not just its head, like the fins of a fish I suppose.”

  A horn sounded. Prince Tanere stood directly across from them, easily visible on his higher podium, arms raised so that the sleeves of his deep blue robe slid down. A pair of Inquisitors flanked him, their attention focused on the crowd, it seemed. What would they judge the court on today?

  “Family and honoured guests,” he said. The prince had not shouted, yet his voice was clear despite the distance. “In preparing for today’s Challenge I did a little reading of the records and it appears that this is the first challenge in nearly a score of years, so it is with some pleasure I present Alosus – the Gigansi who will fight for his freedom today.”

  A cheer rose. The men, women and children nearby were all smiling as they broke into joyous chatter. Alosus did not react. The people quietened only when Tanere resumed his self-congratulatory speech. “I trust you have all been diligent in keeping pace with the gossip of our beloved palace and therefore know well that Alosus was my late uncle Vinezi’s slave.” He paused for booing and hissing. “And before his cowardly flight across the Eternal Sea, he sold Alosus’ wife and son to another – at a price that is frankly, an insult, considering he was practically donating royal property.”

  Notch folded his arms.

  “But I trust it will make today’s struggle even more riveting to know that he fights not only for his freedom, but for his very family. And such is my magnanimous nature that I have allowed him to do so today, and given you all a chance to enjoy something out of the ordinary, something many of you younger ones may have never even seen.” This part of the speech seemed aimed at the Inquisitors, who were taking notes as they watched.

  “My blessing upon your fight, Alosus,” the prince said before taking his seat.

  Almost immediately a roar began to build. People all around the arena were shouting – whether in support or not, was too hard to say. Alosus rolled his shoulders and stamped his feet, his gaze fixed on something Notch could not quite make out, something concealed by the mighty redwood trunks and stands of royals.

  Yet there was something approaching – and when he saw its first few jerky steps across the sand, Notch realised it was being Compelled. And more, such treatment had already enraged it; the creature’s nostrils flared, and its dark eyes seemed to burn.

  As Lady Casselli had said, the roak was not unlike a deer – yet it towered on two hooves, its shaggy fur streaked with mud and blood. Its torso changed, becoming vaguely man-shaped but the dark head was more elongated than a normal deer and its wicked antlers were silvery; their sharp points caught the light. Similar, if significantly smaller, were the horns that started from the elbow and grew longer until those bursting from the backs of the roak’s hands protruded several feet.

  And where Alosus was half again as tall as Notch, not to mention broad and solid as a tree himself, the roak was bigger again. It did not dwarf Alosus by any means, but the fight did not seem fair.

  Alosus was already fitting an arrow to his bow when the Ecsoli released the roak.

  It charged – so fast that Alosus only had time for one shot.

  The arrow flashed across the Arena and lodged in the roak’s upper chest, but it did not even slow, lowering its antlers as it closed with Alosus.

  He dropped the bow and crossed his arms, bracing himself against the impact. The roak tossed Alosus to the side with its blow, then spun in the sand, snorting and pawing at the earth.

  “Alosus!” Notch shouted. His cry had been swallowed by the roaring crowd. He was on his feet, reaching for the sword that he had not been allowed to bring, when Casselli touched his arm.

  “Do not despair. Gigansi are not so fragile,” she shouted over the din.

  Alosus had reached one knee and was already lifting his sickle. The man’s arms bore only a few scratches – thin trails of red.

  “Incredible.”

  The roak charged again but this time it slowed to slash at Alosus with the horns upon its arms. Alosus ducked one blow and swung his sickle but the roak caught the weapon with the antlers on its other arm, jamming the weapon. It tried to jerk the blade from Alosus’ grip, but the big man pulled back and they were caught in a struggle until the thing slashed once more with its free hand.

  The blow tore into Alosus’ side and he fell with a roar of his own.

  Blood spilled across the sand.

  Alosus rolled away, his weapon gone. The roak did not chase him, instead, it swooped down to jam its face into the bloody sand, chewing and swallowing every drop. Alosus had retrieved his bow and quiver, fitting another arrow to the string. When he raised his arms, more blood slid down his side. The gash was deep; but any other man would have had his ribs shorn in two.

  The bowstring snapped. A second arrow punched through thick fur – this one into the side of the roak’s neck. It growled as it reared up, shaking its head furiously. Alosus reached for another arrow, but fell to one knee. Again, the crowd hollered for blood; the nearest child spat as he cried out, eyes alight. The beast turned to charge again, lowering its horns.

  Alosus was breathing hard and he did not make any effort to flee – instead he swung his fists in a mighty blow, just as the antlers reached him.

  Bone shattered.

  One set of horns broke but the other pierced Alosus’ shoulder, slamming him onto his back. The roak lashed out with an arm, pinning Alosus by driving a talon into his thigh. Alosus’ bellow was like thunder, but he gripped the roak by the throat and squeezed. Both combatants were breathing hard and the shouting from the crowd washed over everything.

  Notch found himself on the ground, beating against the invisible barrier between trunks but no-one paid him any heed.

  Yet a shift in the struggle was taking place.

  Alosus’ eyes had lost their whites and the pupils were expanding, an ember-like glow replacing them. And despite his various wounds, his lack of a weapon and the growling beast he held by the throat, Alosus actually seemed to be gaining strength.

  The gathered royals and guests had started to quieten.

  And then the roak started to pull away from Alosus.

  But he kept a tight grip on its throat. The beast began to shudder and Alosus’ eyes flared; still it could not break free. The trembling continued and suddenly it collapsed atop of Alosus, legs struggling weakly.

  The scent of singed hair spread from the combatants and Notch frowned. The Arena was silent until a voice split the hush.

  “No!”

  The mighty cry had burst from the roak.

  Notch fell back.


  “No!”

  It cried out again, its voice rough and desperate – and then it continued to repeat the word, bleating it over and over until it fell finally still, leaving the Arena in a horrified silence.

  And then the cheering began.

  48. Notch

  Notch stood at the rear of a dim room in the healers’ wing, the woody scents of herbs and the sharper sting from the other medicines assaulting him. He rubbed his temples to ease the ache. The wave of shouting, screaming voices had been bad enough but the desperation in the roak’s cry of terror was just as piercing in his memory.

  It had been a shock to learn it could speak, and perhaps just as strong a surprise to witness whatever Alosus had done to it.

  Even now, Alosus was nearly wreathed in bandages, stretched across a huge bed while healers in black robes examined him, their bone masks glowing a faint red. Notch would have checked on Alosus but Prince Tanere and Lady Casselli and a familiar Inquisitor – the man from the dock who’d permitted them entry into the city – blocked him, they were whispering to each other. Notch found he couldn’t even force himself to try and eavesdrop.

  Finally, the Inquisitor scurried off and Tanere and Casselli turned to him. Both appeared enormously pleased.

  “Will he recover?” Notch asked.

  “Assuredly,” Tanere said. “Which is even more wonderful, since I will continue to benefit from this Gigansi.”

  “You’re not going back on your word?” Notch demanded, straightening, then adding a hasty, “Your Highness.”

  Tanere frowned. “Certainly not. I will forgive you your manner now, Captain Medoro, since as an outsider, you fail to understand what this means for me and my bid for the throne.”

  “Forgive my words,” Notch said.

  “I understand; you want to protect him while he cannot speak for himself.”

  “Yes,” Notch said, glancing again at Alosus. “I assume you’re referring to the Inquisitors when you speak of benefiting?”