Demon's Cradle (Devany Miller Book 3)

by Ponce, Jen

  I set my stone in my mouth but I didn’t notice any color change for me. I didn’t know if it was because it wasn’t working or if I just couldn’t see my own shroud. I raised my eyebrows at Krosh, who said in my head, ‘Death surrounds us all.’

  I hoped it wasn’t a prophetic statement.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The going was slower even though the land was flat. The wind had picked up, for one. It began shoving at us with increasingly forceful gusts. The gusts were bad, because we’d lean into them and they’d let up so suddenly, we’d stagger forward. Lean, stagger. Then the air thickened, so even when the wind wasn’t gusting, it was like walking through jelly.

  And then things started screaming.

  The rocks to my right did it first. Opened up cracks in their surfaces and belched dust as they yelled, moaned, and gibbered. Soon others took up the chorus until it filled up my head with caterwauling. A look to the others showed me they weren’t enjoying the impromptu scream-fest either. A couple had their fingers stuffed in their ears so I tried it too, and it helped bring the cacophony down to a dull roar.

  As soon as the rocks figured out we weren’t going to be driven away by the noise, they changed their tactics. Or maybe it was more correct to say, ‘once the broken magic figured it out,’ because it was jangling louder than ever against my skin. If Leon had endured this madness, no wonder he’d come out insane. Of course, he’d gone in insane, so the broken magic had just turned his crazy dial up to thirteen.

  The world lit up with color, screeching, blinding colors that made my eyes ache. They were bright enough to screw with my vision and I tripped more than once, glad for Kroshtuka’s strong grip on my hand. It didn’t help that rocks rolled in front of our feet like little suicide bombers, taking a hit for the team. I kicked one hard after I turned an ankle on it and sent it screaming. ‘Stupid little fucker.’

  Kroshtuka laughed in my mind. I smiled.

  The Spider Stone sat heavy on my tongue, but didn’t activate my gag reflex, I was glad to discover. It didn’t taste like dirt, either. There was a tang to it, not quite citrusy but close. Weird. Then my smile dropped off my face when I saw Bethy standing a few yards ahead of me, her mouth opened in a scream, her shirt torn.

  I lurched forward only to have Kroshtuka pull me up short. I opened my mouth, intending to scream for her ...

  ‘No, Devany. It’s a trick of the broken magic. It’s pulling from our heads. A trick.’

  Red hot fear flushed my face so that I could feel my heart thudding through my skin. It wasn’t a trick, I thought. Couldn’t be. It was too real. Then I saw a shimmer near her calves and my breath exploded from me in a hiss. I wanted to scream at it then reminded myself I had to keep the stone in place. ‘If this is protection, I’d hate to see what happens without it.’

  He didn’t answer and I realized he’d let go of my hand to grab one of the younger men of our group, one whose name I didn’t know. The guy was lunging as I had, but he’d forgotten himself and started to scream, his mouth open in horror at whatever the broken magic was showing him. Kroshtuka and two more Wydlings had to hold tight to keep him from breaking away to chase his nightmare. I dropped to my knees, searching for his Spider Stone and found it almost gobbled up by a pitted black rock. I smashed it against another of its fellows until it dropped the stone. Without bothering to wipe off the grit, I popped it in the man’s mouth and slammed shut his jaw around it.

  His eyes went wide and for a moment I freaked that he’d swallowed it. Then his jaw worked furiously, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His nostrils flared with each tormented breath, the rapidity making it look like he was trying to fly with his nose. Kroshtuka held him close, pressing his forehead against the young man’s until the kid broke down and cried.

  This was where Ellison had been living? Had it been the Rider’s idea or his? I feared there wouldn’t be anything left in Ellison that was sane.

  Kroshtuka left the crying man and went from person to person, standing silently before them, talking to them mentally. He didn’t leave until he had a firm nod from each of them. When he came to me, he asked, ‘How are you holding up?’

  ‘This scares me. But I have to get Ellison. If it’s too dangerous, if they can’t make it safely, I want them to turn back.’

  He nodded. ‘I asked them all. They do not wish to leave. We will press on. I’ll use my power as Clan Anchor to keep them focused but it will take all my will.’

  ‘What if I fed you power?’ I took his hand and pushed some of my Skriven magic into him. His nostrils flared and he gave a sharp nod.

  ‘That will be helpful. If the broken magic catches it, stop immediately or we might both get hurt in the aftermath.’

  ‘Got it.’

  So we continued on hand in hand, like a ragtag adult version of the group of characters skipping along the yellow brick road. Of course, we weren’t skipping, but hey, staggering along while kicking screaming rocks was close enough, right?

  Another agonizing mile and then all the noise, the wind, the thick air, all of it stopped. The Basin loomed ahead, its cancerous walls fearsome. I didn’t want to get any closer, didn’t want to walk down inside it in search of a crazed Skriven, didn’t want to risk touching that god-awful black.

  It wasn’t the color at all, but a reeking miasma that oozed from it: bile from a wyrm, the smoking ruins of a corrupt dragon’s breath. It wasn’t the color but the sound: the teeming of a thousand souls trapped in Hell, the rattle of a dying woman’s lungs. ‘What made this?’

  ‘The Witch King.’

  The ashy warrior swam up in my memory. His ruined eyes. My promise. Good lord, I’d promised to help a man who’d broken magic. When would I ever learn to keep my mouth shut?

  ***

  We walked halfway around the Basin before we found a pale white path crawling along the malignant walls, ever downward. It wasn’t easy to navigate while holding hands but we managed, going slow, keeping track of each other via our thoughts. I fed Kroshtuka magic slowly but steadily, my mind on high alert for any change in feel or flavor. I didn’t know what a corruption of my power would feel like, but I hoped it’d be something fairly easy to sense.

  When we reached the bottom, the air was stale, the shadows more oppressive, ash falling like snow to coat everything. The Basin wasn’t that deep but it held secrets, and those secrets were dark ones. We kept on as the path wound through rocky protuberances, the landscape reminding me of Toadstool Park, a place Tom, the kids, and I had visited once on a road trip. The spaceship-shaped rocks there had been bleached pale tan by the sun. Here, everything was an ashy black, as if the cataclysmic event that had created the place had happened weeks ago, instead of thousands of years in the past.

  It wasn’t until we rounded the next gigantic stone ship that I saw the houses.

  They weren’t houses in the normal sense of the word. They were crippled, bent things, their proportions out of whack with the expected. It wasn’t like the Slip, not quite, but bore strong similarities. Most of them had roofs that long since caved in, stonework crumbling into stunted black grass clotted in ash. There were dead things here too, but someone had taken the skeletons and used them to decorate. A freakish parody of a scarecrow done up in bones and string rattled on its post, even though there wasn’t any wind. It stood by one of the few places with a roof. I wondered if this was where I would find Ellison.

  ‘Are you ready?’ I asked Krosh.

  He nodded, then turned to the young man who’d had a freak out and communicated via hand gestures. They broke apart and flanked the cottage, pulling free what weapons they’d brought with them. When they were in position, Krosh nodded at me and I stepped up to the door. Should I knock? I was afraid I tried to kick it in, the door wouldn’t budge and I’d break my foot.

  Not with my strength. With my strength you will break it to pieces.

  Right. I’d forgotten. Why did I keep forgetting about the spider in my head?

  Because I want you to forge
t sometimes.

  I wished she were in front of me so I could glare at her. Glaring at the air wasn’t very satisfying.

  If I were in front of you, you would be dead.

  ‘Really, Neutria? Really? After all this time in my head, after all we’ve done together, you’d eat me?’

  She did not respond but her utter satisfaction made me realize that she’d never forgiven me for the fart joke. Touchy spider.

  I steeled myself and then kicked, right by the door handle. With Neutria’s strength, I did indeed break it to pieces. I immediately stepped to one side and waited for the reaction, but didn’t get one. I edged to the doorway and peered into the gloom. A fire burned sourly in a small fireplace, greasy smoke curling from cracks in the chimney. That couldn’t be healthy, I thought. In the corner was a man in ratty clothes, hunched over a table. He was making a doll.

  I needed to talk to him but wasn’t sure how. I asked Krosh, ‘I once did a working with the witches. We were in a circle and it seemed to enhance the power of the working. You think we could try that?’

  ‘We can do this. Give us a moment.’

  I did and the Wydlings filed in. The man at the table never looked up, but his movements became more frenetic, as if he knew something was going to happen. As soon as our group had formed a circle, I fed Krosh more power. It leapt from Wydling to Wydling until a large, crackling bubble popped up overall of us. It wasn’t pliable like my normal bubbles were and I understood that it wouldn’t last long, this brittle thing.

  I spat the stone into my palm and took a hesitant breath. “Margolis?”

  He looked up at me in surprise. He pulled the fixings for a doll toward his chest and clutched them protectively. “What do you want?”

  “I’m looking for someone. What are you doing here?”

  His arms spasmed around his treasures but didn’t answer.

  “There’s a Skriven running around here,” I said, ignoring the fact that I could see a puddle slowly growing at his feet. Had I terrified him into peeing himself? Or was it the mention of Ellison? “Do you know where he is?”

  He shook his head no, then yes so fast, I didn’t think he knew he’d done it.

  “I’m here to take him away. To make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore.” The bubble groaned, sending sparks of magic sparkling down like embers of a runaway forest fire. A line of delicate cracks formed and spread. We didn’t have much longer. Crap.

  “You’re one of them,” he said, pointing a shaking finger my way. “You stole my doll.”

  “No,” I said, my voice slipping into the low, long tones of a person soothing a wild animal. “We met by Tempest Peaks and you gave me a doll for the goddess. I gave it to her. She loved it.”

  He did that weird yes/no shake again. “She loved it?”

  “Yes she did.”

  “Good. Good! I make them because she lost her son. She lost her son to the one like you.” That sent him into paroxysms of horror. Paroxysms I didn’t have time for, damn it. A large emerald crack was slowly snaking its way across the dome of my bubble, the smaller cracks spreading in the bigger one’s wake.

  “Wanderer,” Krosh said in his leader’s voice.

  Margolis’ head snapped up. “Yes?”

  “We are here to rid you of your scourge. Where can we find him?” His tone didn’t brook any argument, nor was it angry or mean sounding. It just invited, encouraged, insisted on compliance. I eyed him. He’d better never use that particular magic on me. Then I remembered he had when we first met, but Neutria had freed me.

  “He is in the south Basin, where the broken magic is worst.” Margolis pointed behind me and to the right. “Dancing where the magic sings jagged lines of glory,” he said earnestly.

  “Thank you.” I put the stone back into my mouth at the same time Krosh did. Seconds later, the bubble fell with a screech of burnt sound and a flurry of sparks. It had been a close one.

  We backed out of the cabin and I wished I’d remembered to say sorry for the door. I hoped he was resourceful enough to scavenge for a new one. How could he survive, living in this hellish place?

  The path led in a zig-zaggy line toward Margolis’ vaguely pointed-out directions, so we stayed on it, linking hands again as we went.

  What was Ellison doing in the Basin? What had driven him here? I had to assume he had some sort of advantage being here. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what it was, then decided maybe I needed to figure out why the Rider thought it was advantageous to be here. Was there something about the broken magic that kept it going? That appealed to it? Fed it? Perhaps the broken magic made it easier for it to worm its way into people’s heads.

  Something occurred to me, something that should have dawned on me long before now. Margolis had said that Leon had asked him about the Rider. I’d assumed that Leon had gone to Ketwer Island for some crazy reason to deliberately infect himself with the parasite. But he hadn’t been Patient Zero. Had Ellison gotten there first? Why the sudden interest in the parasite? Who had spurred it? I came up blank and tried another tack.

  Broken magic, I mused. Made people go mad. Changed things for the worse, from the look of the Basin, its cancerous walls, the mephitic air, and the soft hush of sound from the drift of ash. So what did that mean for the Rider? Damn it, I just didn’t know and it was driving me crazy.

  A rumble under my feet almost knocked me sideways. The Basin floor rippled and shook, tossing us around like bugs in a box. And then the walls started tumbling down.

  ***

  Krosh curled around me, shielding my head with his arms. ‘No!’ I wanted to shout. Instead, I attempted a bubble, but it cracked and popped, shattering at the touch of the jagged, black rocks that fell around us.

  One hit me in the leg, another cracked down hard over my arm gripping Krosh’s back. ‘We have to roll! Get up! Move! Or we’ll be buried alive,” I screamed through our mind link. ‘Can you do anything, Neutria?’

  She jerked me around and shot webbing from my hands like fricking Spiderman. Awesome. Dumb that I could appreciate that in such dire times, but there it was. The webbing pulverized the biggest rocks, sifting dust down onto us. The smaller rocks still managed to hit us, one walloping me a good one on the side of the mouth.

  ‘It’s a trick. A mind trick,’ Kroshtuka said to me. ‘Calm yourself. See? Your fear feeds it.’

  Sure enough, when he pointed it out, the rocks began disintegrating before they touched us. Then they vanished altogether. The walls were still intact, still coated in that awful black soot. The ground wasn’t shaking. I put a hand up to my lip and saw that it wasn’t bleeding, though a moment ago I’d been thoroughly convinced I’d gotten a lip piercing via a rock. ‘Shit.’

  We helped each other up, then lent hands to the others. One of our crew, a ebon-haired woman with multiple braids, was sobbing, her face in her hands. I hoped she still had her rock and when I asked, she sniffled, nodded, and showed me, tongue stuck out.

  ‘These rocks don’t seem to protect us at all,’ I said, tempted to spit mine out.

  ‘It isn’t from the mischief of the magic they protect us, or at least this is how I understand them. They keep us from absorbing the broken magic, making it part of us. Had we not had the Spider Stones, we could have been lost in our fears for a long time. And that would be a terrible place to dwell.”

  No doubt.

  We doubled back three times as we made our way toward the spot where Ellison supposedly hid. The Basin had turned into a labyrinth. Another broken magic trick, I supposed. When would it give up? Would it? Maybe we’d be trapped down here forever, wandering, and we would die without knowing we were dead and our bodies would stagger on, forever searching.

  Then I heard the sound. Faint, but it was there. ‘Slip song,’ I said. Jasper was singing out to Ellison. ‘We’re getting closer.’ And I followed the music that the Rider either hadn’t known about or had no way to block. The way cleared, too, the traps, the illusions, failing as they came in con
tact with the music of Ellison’s soul inside me.

  The screaming started, a wild, hot sound that made my heart hammer hard in my chest. It was awful, the screams of a man being burnt alive. The screams of a man being flayed alive. Jasper lurched inside me. I put my hand on my stomach and asked, ‘Are you all right?’

  He is in so much pain.

  I ran, urged on by Jasper’s need. It wormed its way inside me in a way that Jasper’s kindness or consciousness had not. Need and worry.

  I almost fell into a pit, Krosh catching me as my foot went over the side, spilling small rocks and dirt into the trap below. It was lined with spikes, ugly grey things that were crusted with what I could only imagine were the gory leftovers of those whose bones laid at the bottom. Ellison was impaled on a spike, clutching at it with his hands. Horror froze me. Krosh drew me back to safety as I stared. How long had he been here, like this?

  ‘There’s something not right,’ Krosh said.

  Jasper strained inside me, yearning to go to his other half. I couldn’t let him, not right now, not knowing if Ellison was truly in pain and danger or faking it to lure me in. I clamped down on the soul and apologized at the same time, hoping he’d understand, deciding it didn’t matter if he understood or not. I was keeping him safe. ‘A trick? A trap?’

  ‘I cannot say. I can smell the stew of his guts from here. But he is kicking his legs. Would he be able to do that with a spike through his spine?’

  ‘Well, he’s Skriven.’ I paused. ‘Neutria? You see anything off kilter?’

  She pushed forward, shoving Jasper out of the way, or so it felt as I lurched sideways from her movements. Krosh caught me again and I thanked him, wrapping my arm tight around his middle to keep myself upright. Something else is down there, she said finally.

  ‘What?’

  Moves in the shadows.

  I squinted down, picking at the dark slivers on the floor, slivers that covered piles of bones like grasping fingers. Drifts of bones. Jagged bones. ‘Has something been eating people?’ I asked, my lip curling at the idea.