I want to laugh. It is funny to watch other people panicking about this for once. They consult their maps and star charts, compasses and sextants and chronometer. Sorry, guys. It doesn't make any sense, and it's not going to. Good luck with that.
It gets even funnier when they decide that the magical floating hand somehow moved us hundreds of miles forward. Yup, that's right, it was a good boulder-spitting sky-fist of doom.
I go to the stern, where the sound of the engines is the loudest, and I laugh myself stupid. Tears roll down my cheeks, and I shake, and I laugh, and Gorish—who's still skittish—clings to my leg and nuzzles me.
When I finish laughing, it feels like I barfed everything inside me over the side of the ship and I'm empty now. Calm. And that is okay. What do they call this? Catharsis. I can handle calm.
Parnum talks to me gently, and not a lot—I'm in no shape for major conversation. He makes sure I eat a little, and even feeds Gorish. If I let him, Parnum could soothe me just by being here. If I let him, he would be the anchor he used to be when I was a child.
I can't let him. There are lives at stake, including the one clinging to my waist.
We pull into port by noon.
Parnum leads the way off the ship, surveying the people of Shangri-la. This city is different, I'll give it that. There's one main canal through the center, and the buildings on either side are tall and narrow, spaced oddly. Between each building are large, empty areas too big to be alleys. They’re decorated with huge tapestries—drapes of cloth in flat ruby-red, embroidered with forty-foot-high people in weird clothing killing each other.
The tapestry-people wear little domed hats with points on top. They ride strange animals that look sort of like round cows, and they wield spears and swords. They all have robes and facial hair. Are they gods or something? It's just weird.
I stick close to Parnum, remembering Aakesh's warning that this is a dangerous city. Not that he's saying anything now, of course, but that was before our little tiff.
Lawmen in loose linen under leather armor walk the perimeter, the spikes on their domed hats gleaming, cuirasses and shields buffed and smooth. Also, they keep their Sundered Ones on chains. I guess it's symbolic.
I've never seen this many second-tier in one place. Big and muscled, some scaled, some furry, some hairless as a baby's ass, all on literal leashes with spikes around the collars. All of them are restless, as if just trying to find an excuse to go do ... what? Attack people? Bakura fits right in with this crowd. At least nobody’s hissing Issssskinder.
“There. That one looks likely,” Parnum murmurs to me, and heads toward a medium-small ship at the end of the canal.
Somebody to the left of us suddenly bellows like a weirdo and charges into another guy with a meaty crunch. A second later their Sundered Ones join in, and then it's fists flying and Sundered leaping at each other in mid-freaking-air and everybody around us cheers.
I gawk like a tourist.
“Keep moving, Harry,” Parnum says, gripping my arm and pulling me away. “Don't stare too much, or it will be assumed you wish to join.”
What the hell? “Join what? Are they crazy?”
“Shhhh.”
At least now I know what those areas between the buildings are for. Beneath the giant embroidered people fighting, real people fight. There's room to maneuver there, away from the canal. The battling Sundered Ones just weren't important enough to make it onto the tapestries, apparently.
“Keep walking!” Parnum whispers sharply, so that's what we do.
Holy hell. He was right. Anybody who stares too long leaps in, or gets pulled in. I don't care what Aakesh says about there being honor in this place. These people are insane.
“This place is weird,” Demos mutters.
Yeah, no kidding?
The captain Parnum chose doesn't look much older than I am. His is the last ship in the canal, which means we're blocked in—we can't leave until all the other ships do, until morning. Parnum must have picked this guy because he's young and can be swayed to go north.
That fight hasn't stopped. Lawmen wade into it. There's a lot more blood, very quickly.
“I don't like this,” says Kaia.
“My lord,” Aakesh says. “We must hurry.”
No, no, no, I hate it when he says that.” Bek isn't coming again, are they?”
“No.” He hesitates. “But there is concern for me. For my well-being. Not all are willing to risk my sacrifice.”
What the hell is he saying?
“Excellent!” Parnum's voice cuts through the mayhem just as another fight breaks out. Even as the lawmen shove the original combatants against the wall and pull the snarling Sundered apart, more people run in to add their fists to the fun.
Come on, now. Really? Really?
“So, six of you?” says the captain cheerfully, ignoring the fight, clearly not counting my Sundered.
And another fight's started. Nobody can do business this way. This can't be normal.
The captain glances past Parnum and pauses. “What's going on over there?”
Maybe it isn't normal.
There's a blood-curdling scream. Parnum turns, and we all watch with horror as the city goes mad.
It's like a slow fire up a river of oil, an invisible wave that creeps along both sides of the canal and poisons as it goes, turning everyone insane. More screams. Weapons flashing—somebody shoots a gun.
Invisible madness is coming in our direction, and there's a sudden press of bodies as people run toward us to get away from it.
“What the hell?” demands Tomas, whose bruises have turned gloriously yellow.
“Captain, I think it would behoove us to board,” says Parnum quickly.
“To the Tyrant!” the captain screams, and the whole group of us runs like mad.
Reaction. Reaction to Aakesh being in danger.
It's the Sundered Ones doing this. Somehow, they're doing this.
The Tyrant isn't a big ship, and more people are trying to board than belong there. The walkway to the deck is just a flat piece of metal, no railings. It trembles under our crowded feet, bowing under the weight of too many people.
I'm stuck in the middle of a sweaty, panicked throng.
“Harry!”
Parnum? Where'd he go? Dammit! “Doctor!” I can't see him, though he's somewhere ahead of me. The wave of madness is coming closer—it's hit other ships in line now, making people scream, sending sailors overboard into the black water.
Reversals.
I'm seeing reversals, second-tiers breaking their leashes and dying for the trouble, driving their owners mad. Minds snapping like cheap dried rope—
Too many people crowd on, shoving, and suddenly I’m shoved too hard and fall off the gangplank.
My heart beats once. Aakesh catches me, his hot arm around my waist, and somehow, suddenly, we’re high. So high the city looks small, so high there’s nothing but quiet and coolness around us for one crazy, perfect second.
He lands on the deck like a delicate leaf and drops me like a soggy boot. But that was impossible. It’s like he flew.
The captain starts the engines and pulls out from the walkway, letting the plank fall into the water with people still on it.
No! No, there had to be another way—
The crazy wave is coming closer. We have nowhere to go. The canal ahead of us is clogged.
In the next ship over, people start twitching, screaming, and running at each other.
“What's going on?” I scream.
“This is rebellion,” Aakesh whispers by my ear. “These Sundered sacrifice their lives to stop us from going.”
What? What? Because they fear for him?
Reversals everywhere, humans going mad and Sundered dying, falling into the water with horrible finality. Sundered still claimed attack the others, ordered to help, to save their masters.
One burly brown second-tier rips another's leg off, spraying dark red blood, and uses it to beat his oppo
nent's face.
I can't breathe. The air shimmers, like heat waves, and suddenly a guy at the front of the ship howls and runs at me like he thinks I have to go overboard or he won't stay on. We slam into the gunwale, struggling. “Aakesh! Help me!”
Behind the man stalks Aakesh.
He walks like a storm, with anger and dark grace, hurling people aside without touching them as if the heat of his presence batters them aside. The second-tier Sundered around him slam flat on their backs and stay there, wriggling.
His irises are forge-fire.
I almost scream again.
The guy manages to sock me in the eye.
Son of a bitch. “Get us out of here!” I bellow, and Aakesh, in the center of the deck, raises his arms to both sides.
“As you wish, my lord.”
The boat lunges forward as if kicked by a giant. We all fall to the deck as it zooms up the canal, smashing other boats aside and losing more people over the gunwale. We shatter other ships, crash through the gates, and skim into the deep water faster than any engine could go.
I can't think about how many people just died.
The fighting on our ship stops at once, like a match that went out, and everybody pants, staring around in confusion.
The madness in Shangri-la does not stop. Explosions vomit smoke over the towers, more helpless bodies tumble over the walls. Screams follow us, loud and ragged.
The captain's young, but he's no fool. “Go! Go! Go!” he shouts, clutching the helm, and somehow, his people get back in control, balancing cargo as we slow to the speed of the engines. Columns of smoke testify to where we were long after Shangri-la is out of sight.
We have lots of people on board who didn't sign on, but what are we going to do? Throw them overboard? Nobody's that heartless.
What the hell happened back there?
Gorish finds me—God only knows where he was—and we clutch each other until Parnum joins us and talks at me. I can't answer. He realizes I'm not okay, and he comes back with a brandy, which I chug.
So what else can Aakesh do? How much freaking power does he have? He saved us, but at what cost?
I don't feel okay, even with the brandy.
“It was Bakura, nice master,” Gorish whispers suddenly.
“What?” I look down at him. “What do you mean, it was Bakura?”
He doesn't want to answer. Chews his lip, fidgets, plays with his suction-cup fingers. “He's scared for Aakesh.”
“Scared.” I rub my face. My fingers smell a little fishy, like Gorish. I don't care. “Why? I don’t understand.”
“He fears Aakesh will die. The general thought, if you died ... Aakesh is the best of us, master.”
The best of them, and I own him. And a general is willing to make hard sacrifices to save ... what? His king? Would Gorish die for him, too? Would any of them? What are we heading toward, that they think he’ll die?
I can’t take more answers right now. I rest my cheek on Gorish's head, listening to him breathe, and try to stop shaking.
● ●
● CHAPTER 33 ●
The Skies Are Infected
North.
Not even Aakesh can get us from the ass-end of the planet to the crown in one day. It takes time, every hour filled with one unspoken, repeating pulse: Hope. This is it. We are going to find the Hope.
On the third day, frost kisses our ship, and ice has to be chipped off the deck. There isn't enough warm clothing for everyone on board. At least that limits which people come on deck instead of staying down below.
Aakesh brings me warm clothes. Who knows where he got them? I thank him.
He doesn't say You’re welcome.
I'm afraid.
Ice finally slows the ship down, even with the reinforced prow and a dozen second-tier Sundered on board. At least it gives them something to vent aggression on, smashing ice, loosening it up, melting it out of our path. It's impressive to watch them. Or it would be if I hadn't seen Aakesh.
He's calmed down a little. That's a relief. Four days of his anger was enough for me. “Thank you,” I say to him, taking the hot tea he's giving me.
He nods and looks at me. I hear the unspoken question: Will you let me go?
I'm too afraid. I shake my head no.
He expected that, and nods. I don’t feel better.
Gorish has managed to endear himself to everybody on the damn ship. Running back and forth, tripping over himself, making little squeaks and funny faces. Cute, Gorish. Really cute.
Nobody tries to claim him. My Travelers are too afraid, and the Shangri-la natives have other things on their minds.
“We can't be this far north!” the captain says again. Poor guy. I know how he feels.
Parnum leans over my map with him and murmurs encouragingly. He has a gift for calming others down, even when they're panicked. Even when they're right.
“We're going to be there soon, aren't we?” Demos says quietly. Somebody healed his arm. The sling is gone.
“Yeah.”
“We'll be ready,” he says.
I have no idea what that means. I'm not sure I have the right to ask. They're not my Travelers anymore. I've almost made peace with it.
Okay. Not really.
We keep going north.
When the sun dawns on the fifth day, all the ice has vanished.
It's just gone. There's none in sight, except for a thin white line on the horizon behind us, and that makes no sense at all. The air's still cold, but not like it was, and the sky's gone yellow-grey, the color of frozen piss and ashes.
None of us have seen this before.
The poor captain has gone quiet, shaky and pale. So have his sailors. So have the guys from Shangri-la, but that's a relief. They can get awfully boisterous.
Why is the sky this color?
We're in true deep water here, with no land in sight. We're on predator-watch twenty-four-seven, not that it matters. You only see orcas coming. Sauros and krakens get you from below.
I have Aakesh. So surely they won't.
None of the Sundered are acting right. They go still often, staring ahead of us as if hypnotized by something we can't see. Even Aakesh does it, still and silent and barely breathing, only his hair moving as he watches.
The sky is weird. Infected.
On day six, we all start coughing. Some cough more than the rest. They start vomiting blood by afternoon. They're dead by morning. Shockingly fast.
Now we're all spooked. Whatever this is, Sundered Ones can only keep us well for so long.
By day seven, we're down to half the crew, and only a handful of Sundered remain. Why are we still moving forward? Nobody will say, but I think I know. I think the black water won’t let us go.
We can’t stop. There’s no turning back anymore.
Captain Sheldon's never done funerals before, but we have a little ceremony. Dr. Parnum, of course, has all the pretty speeches memorized.
Together, we slide human bodies over the gunwales and into the water, even though we don't have funeral shrouds to give them. The Sundered bodies go over next, but nobody gives them speeches.
Even Gorish has no energy. Nobody talks.
But I think I can see something in the distance.
I'm not sure my brain isn't making it up. There's something dark out there, tall and narrow like a thick black thumb-smudge at the bottom of a painting. I can't be sure with this freaky urine-ash sky. “Aakesh?” I whisper. I can't even hear myself over the breeze and the creak of ropes and rumbling engines.
He hears. He's there, right beside me. He probably didn't even need to hear it to know I wanted him. “Yes, my lord?”
“I'm afraid.” That isn't what I meant to say.
He says nothing. Nothing at all.
I grip the bulwark, clench my jaw, keep looking forward. “I can't let you go. Not until it's safe.”
“Logic would agree,” he says mildly, and walks away.
Does he hate me?
I don't know.
Maybe he'd be right if he did.
Parnum joins me as the sun sets, and we stare at the horizon. “How are you holding up?” he says, hoarse from coughing.
What a question. Everyone around me has begun to show signs of fever, nausea, diarrhea. Everyone but me. “What's wrong with the sky in this place?”
“I have a guess.”
“I want to hear it.” I fold my arms on the bulkhead, leaning heavily. The smudge in the sky looks more solid now. I can almost make out a shape.
Parnum stands beside me like a statue. “I think this is as close as they came to converting our atmosphere to their home planet's.”
There's a thing I never thought of. “The air would be different?”
“Likely so.”
My brow knits. “But they can breathe regular air.”
“They are weakened by it.” He rubs his beard. “This is only a guess, of course.”
It doesn't explain why the Sundered seem lethargic now, breathing in shallow gasps. Why would they do that if this was their air? I think it’s another lie. I look away, eyes stinging. Just the urine-ash in the air, I'm sure.
“I am concerned, for you,” he says softly.
When we reach that smudge, he and I might be enemies, and we both know it. I put my face in my hands.
He puts his hand on my back.
Night falls, and it's too dark to see the smudge anymore.
I wake in the middle of the night and see all the Sundered in the world.
They're arrayed above me with light shining all around them, floating in tiers like they were before, only now I'm close enough to see the holes. Holes inside every Sundered One, and holes between where some are missing. Gorish is there, picking and twitching and whimpering at the new holes that appeared in his flesh since I saw him last.
Aakesh is at the very top, looking down at me with a look I don't understand. It's not disappointed like Parnum. It's not disapproval like my father. This is something else.
It's a look that exposes.
It's a look that says I'm not what I should be.
He sees me.
Helpless.
Sick.
Alone.
I don't want to be alone!
My Travelers are here, Parnum is with me, Gorish loves me, I'm not alone, I won't be alone, I cannot be alone! “Don't leave me alone!” I cry.
The Sundered Page 24
