Of the Abyss

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  Ruby, at least, wouldn’t be surprised to see Umber. Hansa remembered her expression when she found them together, as if it confirmed something she had suspected for a long time.

  He cleared his throat and said, “Let’s go.”

  They walked toward the smoke, leaving the Abyssi behind.

  When Alizarin said wall, Hansa had pictured stones. Instead, an assortment of junk—­large, cracked shells, stones, and thorn-­covered vines—­made a neck-­high barrier that spanned the empty space between the stony trees, enclosing a lopsided circle maybe a quarter acre in total. A man and a woman armed with rough, crooked spears watched them approach with serious expressions.

  “Come around this way,” the woman said. “There’s a gate.”

  Hansa fought to keep his expression neutral. The shades looked like any other humans . . . if he discounted the disquieting tone of their skin and eyes. The woman who had greeted them at the gate looked like she was at the peak of a bout of flu; her skin was clammy and blotchy as if with unbroken fever, gray tinged in a way that made it impossible to tell if she had once been fair or tanned, and her brown eyes had a strange haze to them.

  “I’m Yarrow, of Tamar,” the woman said. “Do you know your names?”

  They hadn’t considered what they were going to tell any shades they met. Supposedly, the dead were sent here for a reason. Could they be trusted? Out of habit, Hansa looked at Cadmia.

  “Is it normal not to?” the Sister of the Napthol asked. She sounded composed and neutral as she implied that maybe they didn’t know who they were.

  Yarrow nodded. “Many ­people don’t at first. They don’t know who they are, where they’re from . . . how they got here. It can take weeks to sort it out, and most don’t have weeks before they—­well, you’re lucky to have found us quickly.” With the same compassionate bluntness, she asked, “Do you know where you are?”

  “Yes,” Cadmia answered this time.

  “Weeks?” Hansa asked. He hoped Yarrow thought the panic in his voice was due to his own lost memory, because he couldn’t help it. Would they have to be here that long before they had any hope of finding Jenkins and the others? Could they wait? Just thinking about it made something in his chest constrict. He didn’t think they had that kind of time before the boon would demand they do something else, but the thought of abandoning the others was equally horrific.

  Yarrow nodded and said comfortingly, “Don’t worry. We’ll guide you through it. In the meantime, we have a fire to keep you from the cold, and a little food we can share.”

  There were a half-­dozen other shades in the enclosed area, most looking worse than Yarrow. A few stood near the walls, clearly acting as sentries. The others hung back, watching the new group with suspicion.

  “I’m guessing you haven’t been here long?” Yarrow asked. As she led them to the fire, which was flickering against the wind and belching tarry smoke, one of the other shades stood and walked away without comment.

  “Not long,” Umber replied. “It shows?”

  Yarrow just smiled sadly. If she was an example of what a shade looked like after a time in the Abyss, it was obvious that Hansa and the others were new. “You must be hungry then. After a while the body starts to forget things like that . . .” She trailed off as if the thought had inspired another, more disturbing one. After a moment she shook herself and continued. “Early on, you still feel things like cold, hunger, and thirst, though they can’t kill you.”

  She ducked into a patchwork, lean-­to shelter and returned with a bone bowl full of what looked like some strange kind of fruit. Each was about the size of an egg, slate-­gray, and protected by sharp spines. Yarrow demonstrated how to scrape the spines off on the sharp edge of the bowl before cracking the shell to eat the pulpy seeds inside.

  “These quench the thirst,” Yarrow said. She put the bowl down next to the fire and said, “I should check on Vim. He’s one of our hunters, but was hurt today. It will give the three of you time to talk if you want.”

  “You hunt the Abyssi?” Umber asked.

  Yarrow’s eyes widened. “We hunt the mindless beasts who roam this level of the Abyss,” she clarified. “It’s dangerous but necessary. None of us could fight one of the true Abyssi.”

  She turned away without further word and disappeared into another of the ramshackle shelters. The other shades had drawn back, giving them privacy either from kindness or lack of interest.

  “Damn,” Umber whispered. “I knew finding them might be difficult, but it never occurred to me they might not be here to be found yet.”

  Wryly, Cadmia said, “We don’t have much information from ­people who recall dying. The things I could teach the others, if only—­”

  She broke off, perhaps noticing that everyone was staring at her. Yes, it was her order’s task to study these things, but this level of interest was as disconcerting as Hansa’s incessant pull toward Umber.

  Who he was too close to again.

  Who cares? he thought. Your friends aren’t here to judge you.

  “ ’Ware!” The shout came from the far wall, and made them all jump. After years as a guard, Hansa responded to the sentry’s warning instinctively. Even thoughts of Umber disappeared from his mind as he shot to his feet and put the others behind him, wishing he had a weapon.

  He looked around at the shades, assuming they had plans for these situations, but instead of running to fight, those who had been armed were dropping their weapons and backing away. Hansa caught the whispered warning: “Abyssi.”

  The creature who approached the wall had a sleek, furred body, though its shape was closer to the jungle cats Hansa had seen in some Silmari art than Alizarin’s mostly humanoid form. Its shaggy fur was mottled gray and black, but the eyes it lifted to them still burned a familiar, brilliant blue.

  As it reached the wall its form flickered, shifting to an Abyssi’s less-­substantial and more terrifying natural shape as briefly as an eye-­blink; a moment later it was inside the camp, solid again, and clearly focused on their group.

  Umber stepped forward, pushing Hansa aside to do so. His body was rigid with tension.

  “Greetings,” he said, “from myself and from Alizarin. Are you seeking us?”

  Supposedly, Umber had the ability to claim Hansa, and he was clearly invoking Alizarin’s ownership to protect the others. Hansa noted the Abyssi’s color, though, which one might easily describe as “ashy.” He suspected Antioch might have no interest in respecting Abyssi rules.

  “You have something of mine.” Whereas Alizarin’s voice had been musical, Antioch’s was gravelly, scree cascading down a hillside.

  “The Numenmancer belongs to Alizarin,” Umber answered, his poise impressive given what he was facing. “This human belongs to me,” he said, putting a warm hand on Hansa’s shoulder before removing it to wave dismissively at Cadmia and add, “And this one is also Alizarin’s. I’m sure you can taste his power on her.”

  The new Abyssi snarled, a noise that struck Hansa like a blow, driving a sharp pain between his temples. Its fur rose, as well as a crest of inky spines around its jaw and above its eyes, tipped in the brilliant green and orange stripes Hansa associated with poisonous frogs. “Alizarin owes me.”

  Stall, Hansa thought. Alizarin said he would be nearby hunting. He had to have anticipated a challenge like this coming. If he could sense another Abyssi so close, he would come back.

  Right?

  It was hard to hold to that fragile hope as Antioch stalked closer and looked past Umber’s shoulder to directly meet Hansa’s eyes. The light of the Abyss glowed in them like the blue heart of a pyre. “You stole my mancer,” he accused.

  Help came from the last place Hansa ever would have expected. Xaz said, “From what I heard, you had nearly destroyed your mancer already. Hansa wouldn’t have been there if you hadn’t used him so carelessly.”
/>   Another of those horrifying blinks, and the Abyssi was suddenly in front of Xaz. He lifted a hand and touched her face.

  Xaz flinched, and Hansa saw beads of blood run down her cheek.

  “Alizarin asked permission to give my chosen one a gift. Do you know what that gift was?”

  Xaz paused an instant to think, then guessed, “The knife.” Her voice was tight and strangled. “That’s how he formed a bond with me.”

  “He said it would make a powerful tool,” Antioch growled. “But as soon as it was time to fight, he forced my mancer to discard it.”

  “Alizarin didn’t make Baryte throw the knife away,” Cadmia said. She sounded breathy, as if it was hard to get the words out. Was she mad enough to think arguing with Antioch was a good idea, or had she, like Hansa, decided playing for time was their only way to survive this?

  As Antioch flickered in front of Cadmia, he remarked, “I only need to keep one of you.” The words sounded contemplative, though they were clearly a threat. He looked from her to Hansa as if trying to decide which one he wanted.

  Hansa looked around, desperately hoping the shades had some kind of secret weapon they could use against the Abyssi, but they had scattered like leaves before a storm. No help from that quarter.

  “Hansa belongs to me,” Umber said, drawing the Abyssi’s attention back to him, “and I did nothing to you. Perhaps we could discuss an arrangement?”

  He’s not serious, Hansa thought. I really hope he’s not serious. He didn’t think Umber was the type to sell one of them to an Abyssi if he had a choice, but he might not feel there was another option. Maybe there wasn’t.

  “Your human took my mancer,” the Abyssi spat, “so I was going to take him. Baryte marked him for me. You tried to remove the mark, but you can’t own prey I already claimed.”

  This time, when the Abyssi looked back at Hansa, he felt the old, healed injury in his left hand flare to life again. Compared to the suffocating heat he had felt when Baryte had first cut him, this was like holding a winter-­chilled hand up before a slightly-­too-­hot fire to warm, but understanding made him shudder.

  If it hadn’t been for Umber, he really could have become a mancer—­not from the deep rents down his back from Alizarin, but from a tiny scratch made by an Abyssumancer’s blade.

  “That’s why he was able to get blood-­drunk,” Umber said, clearly trying to pull Antioch’s attention away from Hansa again. “I was able to remove Alizarin’s power from him, but didn’t notice your mark among the larger contamination.”

  Whatever Antioch might have said in return was lost. The Abyssi bounded past Umber, brushing against Hansa before shouldering Cadmia out of the way, sending her sprawling. Hansa spun, relieved to see that Antioch was heading toward another form now slipping over the gate—­this one a familiar, luminescent blue.

  Alizarin’s humanity had faded away. As he crossed the sands, he was once again the formless terror they had seen when they first appeared in the Abyss, something Hansa flinched instinctively away from even as he breathed relief at his appearance. Knees weak, he leaned against Umber for support, listening to the rapid pounding of the spawn’s anxious heart. Xaz scrambled to help Cadmia.

  Antioch leapt. Alizarin met him, and they clashed as a void of darkness, claws, fangs, and hunger.

  A deep rumbling came from the combatants. Hansa felt it as a grating sensation, as if his bones were moving tectonically past each other. A hiss from one of the Abyssi reached him like a sharp wind.

  Come on, Umber urged, his voice in Hansa’s head momentarily loud enough to get his attention. He was trying to make them all move.

  Hansa’s limbs felt leaden, and the others looked the same. With Xaz’s help, Cadmia was pushing to her feet haltingly, her mouth set in a grim line. The Numenmancer was gray-­pale except for the blood seeping down her face.

  Hansa spared a look back to the two Abyssi. They were lost in a swirling miasma of indefinable violence.

  “Get out!” Hansa jumped as the shade who had greeted them so graciously earlier hissed at them to leave. “Don’t come back here.”

  “But—­”

  He hadn’t really intended to argue, just hadn’t been able to think quickly enough to process Yarrow’s words. The shade snapped, “We survive here because the Abyssi have no interest in us. Get out!”

  Stumbling, gasping, they fled the encampment.

  CHAPTER 26

  Xaz’s only injuries were the small cuts on her face, but she felt battered. When a dog growled, it raised its hackles and tried to look big to avoid a fight. When an Abyssi growled, it wasn’t posturing; it was a first attack. Power flared like a mantle, striking those within range. Just being near the two battling creatures was enough to do damage to a mortal.

  They limped along, following Umber with no thought beyond get away, until Cadmia collapsed and gasped, “Can’t.”

  A plume of fine black sand rose around her, looking too inviting to resist. Xaz fell next to her with little more grace.

  The others didn’t argue either, but sprawled nearby, alternately coughing and panting as if they had all inhaled something caustic.

  Cadmia clutched a hand to her ribs, grimacing.

  “How badly are you hurt?” Xaz asked, remembering Antioch striking Cadmia on his way by.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re bleeding,” Umber told her. “Your arm, your side.”

  The light that had grayed the sky when they first arrived had been dying since some time at the shades’ camp, and even the glowing creatures on the trees seemed less numerous now. In the dim light, any blood on Cadmia’s dark clothes was invisible to Xaz. Was Umber’s vision better, or could he sense the blood another way?

  “Let me see,” Umber said.

  Cadmia set her jaw as if the movement hurt, and gingerly raised her shirt. Jagged scratches ran up and down her chest and arm on the side where Antioch had brushed against her. Several were still bleeding, and the skin around them was inflamed.

  Umber pulled off his own shirt and started tearing it into strips, using the pieces to apply pressure to the deepest cuts. Cadmia let out a small, pained sound at the back of her throat.

  “How bad is it?” Xaz asked. She didn’t like the look of the swollen flesh that surrounded the wounds. They reminded her of the brightly colored spines Antioch had lifted when angered, which in a natural creature would have warned of poison.

  “The blood might attract predators,” Hansa said. His words were carefully measured, as if forming them was a struggle. “We should . . .” He looked around, eyes scanning the ground, then made a waving gesture as if trying to recall the word. No, not as if searching for a word; as if swinging a sword.

  “Weapons,” Cadmia agreed.

  Her voice choked on the end of the word and she started coughing, a fit that racked her body so severely Umber had to grip her tightly to keep her from falling face-­first in the sand. By the time she had recovered, her face was flushed and covered with a sheen of sweat, but her lips were gray-­blue.

  Umber lifted the cloth he was using to staunch the blood, and Xaz clamped her teeth on her horror as she saw the way the skin around the wounds had started to blister and blacken.

  “Can you do anything?” she asked the spawn. “You healed Hansa.”

  “With effort, I could close the wounds and stop the bleeding,” Umber said hesitantly. “I can’t remove the poison from her blood, though.” Cadmia bit her lip, suppressing her first response to the obvious death sentence Umber had just declared, and the spawn added hastily, “It’s an Abyssal poison. Divine power might be able to cleanse it.”

  They both looked at Xaz expectantly, Umber calmly and Cadmia with a desperate plea.

  “Xaz?” Umber prompted. His voice was too calm, carefully managed to avoid panicking Cadmia, as if she couldn’t see and undoubtedly feel the po
ison’s rapid spread.

  “I don’t know if I can do anything.” She was unable to make her voice any stronger than a whisper. “I haven’t had much control over my power since Alizarin bonded to me.”

  “Try?” Cadmia urged.

  Xaz nodded sharply, and forced herself to step forward. She knelt next to the Sister of the Napthol, and touched her fingertips to a spot of unmarked skin. Cadmia jumped, reminding Xaz that her hands were usually icy. Ruby used to remark on it when Xaz accidentally touched her while passing a dish at dinner or something similar.

  “Sorry,” she said to Cadmia, closing her eyes and resisting the impulse to look at Hansa. “My power is cold.”

  It wasn’t the first time Ruby had come to mind unexpectedly and it wouldn’t be the last. Despite all Xaz’s attempts to keep her distance, Ruby had been a friend, and Xaz was almost certainly at least partially responsible for her death. Now that the strange madness that had gripped them all had receded, Xaz didn’t like the idea of trying to resurrect the woman, but if she could save Ruby’s soul from the Abyss along with the dead guards, she would do it.

  Finger-­walking along Cadmia’s skin, she found the edges of Antioch’s poison and tugged at it. She envisioned her own, cool power flowing through the wounds to cleanse them like a river flooding a stagnant pool.

  Instead of her magic rising in her body, an icy voice slipped into her mind. Now you seek our aid? it asked. After defying us, you dare seek our assistance?

  Xaz felt a new kind of coldness wash over her, one that had nothing to do with her magic and everything to do with fury.

  “Napthol is a Numini, isn’t it? That means she is sworn to one of you,” she murmured, her voice sub-­audible, only intended for her disapproving Numini patron. “You won’t let her die.”

  She has already been given to us as a tool for our plans, the Numini replied indifferently. If those plans are not to find success, she is of no more use to us.

  Oh, those bastards. Those arrogant, manipulative—­