The Iron Ghost

by Jen Williams

  Nuava bit her lip. The last thing she wanted to hear about at the moment was vomit. She had hoped that sitting quietly in the hold of the Narhl ship would quiet her stomach, but she could not get used to the lurching sensation of the wooden panels beneath her and everything smelled overpoweringly of salt.

  ‘That’s fine, thank you,’ she said, forcing a polite smile onto her face. ‘Anything you can spare is greatly appreciated.’

  Ceriel frowned at her. Nuava rather got the impression that the woman would have been more impressed if she’d responded with an insult.

  ‘Here, then,’ Ceriel put a pouch down on the small table. ‘We call it Slake. Fish guts, fish eggs.’

  ‘That’s lovely, thank you.’

  Ceriel gave her one more disapproving look before stalking back up the warped wooden steps. Nuava let out a shaky sigh of relief, and poked the bag hopefully. It had been hours since she’d eaten and she must have emptied out her stomach several times over, so perhaps she could manage a few Narhl delicacies. If nothing else, she was alone now and no one else would have to witness her indignity should her insides decide they weren’t quite done punishing her yet.

  At that moment her eyes met the glowing green lamps of the werken’s eyes.

  Not quite alone, after all.

  ‘Ah. Uh, yes. Um.’ She picked up the bag and glanced inside, immediately regretting it. ‘It’s food, that’s what I’ve got to remember. I need to eat, I need to keep my strength up.’

  Gingerly she poked a finger into the bag and hooked out a trembling mass of pinkish flesh. The smell of fish was very strong, but then the entire ship smelt of fish, and she was starting to get used to that at least. Steeling herself, she stuffed it in her mouth and swallowed.

  ‘Hurgh. Mmm.’ She forced herself to chew. Ignoring the texture of it, she nodded her head briskly. ‘You know, it’s not so bad. Cold, obviously, but not awful.’ Methodically she worked her way through the rest of the pouch, and when she was done her stomach did feel a little more settled. They had left her a bone flask full of water, and she sipped at that carefully, willing herself not to be sick again. She’d already pulled all the muscles in her stomach.

  ‘That must have seemed very silly to you,’ she said. The werken did not move. ‘I mean, I don’t suppose you eat.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Not that we would know.’ Hesitantly, she stood up and took a few steps towards the werken. ‘There must be so much we don’t know about you. Because that’s what you are – a real living being, with . . . with a soul. You are the soul of the mountain, that’s what Prince Dallen said.’

  Still the werken did not move. Having grown up in a city where the werkens were regarded as one step up from furniture, if that, she felt mildly foolish – as though she were talking to an old toy and an adult had caught her. It was cold and damp in the hold, and the unsettling motion of the boat now felt like a wave of constant dizziness. She took a deep breath, trying to control the instinctive reactions of her body. She was a scholar, after all, a crafter in training.

  But what did that mean now?

  ‘Why did you never reach out to us? There’s been no attempt to make contact, no communication from you. It’s like you’ve just let us use you.’

  Still the werken did not move. Perhaps it was all a lie after all, some elaborate joke being made at her expense, except that she didn’t truly believe that. The woman, Wydrin, was boisterous and undisciplined, but she was also earnest in her own way, and Nuava was quite sure that although the Copper Cat paved her life with falsehoods, she wasn’t lying about this.

  ‘I would like to speak to you,’ said Nuava, looking directly into the werken’s green eyes. ‘I really would. I have spent my whole life studying you, after all, and none of the werkens I was joined to . . . none of the werkens I have known ever spoke to me.’

  There was a smattering of dry laughter from the doorway. Nuava turned to find that Ceriel had returned, and was leaning on the doorframe. Although she was smiling, there was a brittle glint in her eyes, like early spring ice.

  ‘Foolish Skald child. You may as well ask the sky to speak to you.’

  Nuava cleared her throat. She was embarrassed, but at the same time she knew she was doing the right thing. She was doing, in short, what Bors would have done, if he’d suddenly discovered that the werkens were sentient.

  ‘If they are thinking, knowing creatures with souls, then do they not feel the need to reach out to other thinking, knowing beings?’ Nuava’s stomach grumbled and the taste of fish flooded her mouth. She tried not to grimace too openly. ‘If we have truly treated them so appallingly, then could they not have said no?’

  Ceriel shook her head.

  ‘You are thinking of them as people in the same way we are. You are trying to understand them on your own terms.’ The tall woman held her hands up and dropped them, trying to find the right words. ‘You are a tiny fish, trying to understand the entire ocean. The ocean does not look alive to the fish, but it is full of life.’

  Nuava crossed her arms over her chest. ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘Perhaps not.’ Ceriel shrugged. ‘I lead the people of Turningspear, and I lead raids, and I captain the fishing boats. I do not spend my days talking of spirits. To the Narhl, it is different, you see. We know that the mountain spirits live, because they are a part of us.’

  Nuava looked at the woman’s muscled arms, uncovered despite the cold. She could see the marbled pattern of her skin, dabbed here and there with lichen.

  ‘Because you are close to the land? Closer than us, anyway.’ Nuava nodded, glancing at Mendrick before turning back to Ceriel. ‘Can you imagine, then, what it is to not be part of the land? To have to work to understand it?’

  Ceriel frowned. ‘I suppose I cannot.’

  ‘We have so much to learn still,’ Nuava pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. ‘Excuse me.’ She reached for the bone cup full of water, but Ceriel shook her head.

  ‘Here, child, drink this. It burns away the water sickness.’ She passed Nuava a long curved horn from her belt, stoppered with a wedge of wax. Nuava pulled the stopper free and took a gulp; the liquor inside tasted faintly medicinal to her, and it swiftly warmed her throat and belly. Almost instantly she felt better.

  ‘What was that?’ she asked, passing the horn back. She found she was smiling slightly. ‘It was really good.’

  Ceriel grinned, and Nuava thought it was probably the first genuine smile they’d seen from the tall warrior woman.

  ‘We call it Comet’s Fire. It’s brewed from berries and nuts. The best thing for seasickness.’

  ‘Your people get seasick?’ asked Nuava. Ceriel laughed.

  ‘Of course. Although our bellies are not as delicate as a Skald’s.’

  Nuava took another sip of the drink, her eyes on Mendrick again.

  ‘It seems there is much we don’t understand about the Narhl. We may have been wrong about a number of things.’

  52

  By the time they reached the mausoleum, the sky-sea above them was teeming with dark shadows.

  ‘I don’t like this.’

  Wydrin was peering up at the shapes, one hand held over her eyes to see better.

  ‘I believe it would be prudent to retrieve the blade and leave as soon as possible,’ said Frith. ‘This is not a place to linger.’

  In truth he was more unnerved by the mausoleum itself. It was unchanged from his vision; still shaped like a fat seed pod, the top tapering up to a point, while faces carved from white marble stared out of oval-shaped alcoves. The entrance was dusty and dark, the wooden doors long since rotted away. He could see Xinian’s footprints there, and the footprints of her lover.

  ‘Agreed,’ said Sebastian. He gave Frith a considering look. ‘Are you ready, Frith?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Pushing aside his weariness and fear, Frith produced a ball of light in his right hand, and together they walked over the threshold. The crypt sprang into uncertain light around
them; inside, the walls lost their pristine sheen, with greenish mould leaving mucky smears everywhere. There were more figures carved here, and with a start Frith realised they were death masks, people frozen for ever at the moment of their passing.

  ‘It’s down these steps,’ he told the others. Looking back at him in the Edenier light, their faces looked too akin to the death masks in the walls, and Frith felt a wave of dizziness pass through him. ‘Follow me.’

  Silence enveloped them. Frith glanced up at the ceiling, so close to the top of his head, and tried not to think of the weight of the ocean hanging just above.

  ‘What a place to be trapped,’ said Wydrin, apparently thinking along the same lines. ‘The gods certainly are cruel.’

  ‘Of all the gods to offend, Res’ni is not the best choice,’ commented Dallen. ‘She was not known for her mercy, or indeed sense.’

  ‘I can think of worse,’ said Wydrin. ‘Actually, you know what, best to avoid all gods as much as possible. More trouble than they’re worth.’

  They reached the large chamber Frith remembered from his vision – the same stacked rows of skeletons in the walls, the same stone sarcophagus in the centre of the room. There were two skeletons on the floor – a staff lay next to one of them, and the other was missing a hand at the wrist. Frith frowned.

  ‘Xinian the Battleborn and her lover Selsye. They were just left here, then. No one collected their bodies.’

  ‘Would the mages not come for them?’ asked Sebastian. ‘Surely their own people . . .’

  Frith shrugged. He bent down and picked up the staff. It felt silky under his fingers, as though covered in spider’s webs, and it had words carved into it. He half expected to be able to feel an echo of the magic it had once channelled, but it remained quiet in his hands.

  ‘Perhaps they were too afraid to come down here just to collect some bodies. Or perhaps they didn’t care. There is so much we don’t know.’

  ‘This has been left here, at least.’ Wydrin was standing by the wall. In an alcove filled with skulls there was a large, curved sword lying on its side. Its blade was a deep metallic blue, and it looked impossibly sharp.

  ‘That is not where it was left,’ said Frith. For some reason, this worried him more than the hundreds of corpses surrounding them. ‘It should be on the floor.’

  ‘Bezcavar moved it, then,’ said Sebastian, frowning. ‘Or got someone else to, more like.’

  Frith met his eyes, and knew that the knight found this unsettling too.

  ‘Either way, we need it now,’ said Wydrin, and she reached out and picked up the sword in both hands. In the very same moment, there was a tremendous crash from somewhere above them, and a reverberating crack that Frith felt travel up through his feet.

  ‘Ah,’ said Wydrin, looking sheepish. ‘A trap. You’d think I’d started raiding tombs just yesterday.’

  ‘Quick, pass it to me,’ Sebastian held out his hand for the sword and she gave it to him. As his fingers touched it Frith saw Sebastian shudder, and for a moment he stood unmoving, as though struck dumb by the sword. Frith was about to ask him if he’d lost all sense when the knight seemed to come back to himself. Unsheathing his own sword he pushed the god-blade awkwardly through the leather sword belts that circled his waist. ‘I have the feeling we’re going to have to move swiftly now.’

  There was another crash from somewhere above them, and Wydrin drew her sword and dagger.

  ‘To the tower we saw coming in, then,’ she said, eyeing Frith. ‘I hope that magic of yours is still as strong, Frith.’

  He gripped the staff in his right hand. ‘Don’t worry about that.’

  They fell out of the tomb all at once, looking everywhere for the threat. There was another enormous crash, and now that they were at street level it was easier to tell where it was coming from. As one they turned and looked up.

  ‘Ye gods and little fishes,’ said Wydrin. ‘The Graces’ own have come for us.’

  The sky-sea above them was teeming with sea monsters of all shapes and sizes. Frith could see enormous lizard-like creatures with tapering, steamlined bodies, their narrow heads lined with teeth like knives, and great armoured fish with segmented bodies and fanged maws that fell open like trapdoors. There was even what looked like a giant squid, swirling limbs pitted with barnacles and one great eye like a bulging bubble of ink. They were crowding above them as though the water had recently been seeded with food, and Frith supposed that it had, in a sense. He swallowed hard.

  ‘Look at that one!’ cried Sebastian. ‘What is it doing?’

  One of the monsters was pressed right up against the invisible barrier, closer than the others. It was one of the biggest, a creature not unlike a wyvern with its long, dragon-like face, but it was ten times the size, and its body was covered in green, oily scales. It had long limbs too, fringed with pearlescent webbing, and a crown of glowing fronds sprouted just beyond its bony forehead. It opened its enormous jaws, revealing multiple rows of jagged fangs, and then crashed its head against the force field. The entire city shuddered with the violence of it, and the tiniest crack appeared far above them. The monster opened its mouth and roared – muffled as it was, they all heard it.

  ‘Why is it doing that?’ cried Dallen as the monster crashed its head into the invisible structure once more.

  ‘I think we’re going to be in a lot of trouble very shortly,’ said Wydrin, already taking a few hurried steps backwards. ‘Look at that!’

  The monster smashed its bony head against the invisible wall again, its mouth opening slightly to let a thin stream of bubbles past its jagged teeth, and for a few seconds the force keeping the sea out flickered ominously.

  ‘Is it going to . . .?’

  Another crash, and suddenly there was a tear in the sky and the sea was pouring down towards them in a solid band of grey and white. It hit the buildings behind the mausoleum and they were instantly lost to view in a fury of white water.

  ‘Run!’ screamed Wydrin.

  They scattered up the street, Frith glancing behind him only to see the great sea monster pushing its head through the hole it had made, briefly plugging it before more of the invisible shield gave way. Water poured in like a black nightmare, and already it was at their heels, chasing them in a surging tide.

  ‘We’ll never make it,’ he called to the others. ‘We’ll drown in minutes!’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ Wydrin yelled back, but anything else she said was lost in the roar of the deluge. There was another crash behind them and somehow Frith knew that would be the sea monster, having worked its way through the force field and now, inexplicably, hunting them down. And the others would follow. They can pick us off like breadcrumbs in a pond.

  The tower was in front of them, but still too far. Frith glanced down to see black water surging around his boots, and then Prince Dallen was skidding to a halt, turning back to face the approaching wave.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Frith saw Sebastian say the words although he couldn’t hear him. Dallen raised his hands and there was a brittle crack as the temperature of the air around them abruptly plummeted. Frith turned in time to see the devastating wave of water that was chasing them freeze instantly, black water turning silvery white. Of course.

  Frith brought the word for Cold to mind and threw everything he had at it, summoning the Edenier like he never had before. The ice moved across the approaching water like a disease, and the sea monster, now thrashing in the space behind the crypt, was briefly caught in its icy fingers, but they were fighting against the sea. As quickly as they froze it, the water was pouring in through the rent in the sky.

  ‘Build a barrier around us,’ Wydrin was shouting. ‘Quickly, before the water overwhelms it.’

  Frith turned in a circle, crafting a curling wall of ice even as his fingers began to tingle with the pressure of the Edenier. Soon, he knew, the bandage on which the word was written would disintegrate, and then they would have to rely only on Dallen’s natural ability.


  Just beyond the warped wall of ice he’d created, Frith could still see the monster – it was dragging itself towards them, its jaws opening and closing mindlessly. If it got there, of course, it would crash straight through the ice, and still the water was streaming in.

  ‘We need to get out of here,’ said Sebastian. ‘They can’t keep this up for ever.’

  The curved wall of ice was now as tall as the closest buildings. Wydrin ran to it and slid her fingers over its surface – thanks to the uncertain, violent nature of the water it was warped and jagged.

  ‘We have to climb it. Onto the top of these buildings, and to the tower. We’ll have to be bloody fast.’

  Sebastian looked less than pleased by the idea, but he took a pair of short daggers from his belt and began looking for a way up. The sea beyond the ice was rising rapidly, a black tide stinking of salt, and the monster seemed to be gaining strength from it.

  ‘You go,’ said Dallen. ‘I can keep the water from completely flooding the city until you get back through the hole.’

  Sebastian turned away from the wall. ‘I’m not leaving you.’

  ‘Oh, we definitely don’t have time for this, boys.’ Wydrin took Dallen’s arm firmly and pulled him to where the wall was most climbable. ‘Everyone, get up there, now.’

  Frith slid Selsye’s staff through his belt at the back, and began to scramble up the wall. It was freezing cold and slippery, and more than once he almost fell back down to the ground. Ahead of him Wydrin was making better progress, kicking her boots into the ice for purchase, whereas Sebastian was taking even longer than him. Dallen, who had obviously spent all his life around snow and ice, was climbing the wall with no trouble at all.

  There was a wet, rippling roar from behind them. Frith risked a glance to see the sea monster now pressed against the ice they’d created, its confusion of teeth gnawing at it like a dog with a bone. Even more worryingly, the black water had reached the top of their self-made barrier and was pouring in, thundering like a waterfall. It wouldn’t take long for it to fill up.

  Wydrin was shouting something now, but he couldn’t make it out. Frith redoubled his efforts, trying not to think about what it would be like to drown down here. At least, he reasoned, the temperature of the water would likely knock you out first.