by Jim C. Hines
“I understand grief, but your reaction is something more. It’s personal.”
Sterling didn’t answer.
“Death is nothing to fear. Neither one of us is likely to die of old age. If Winter is dead, she died kicking Yog in the arse. Letting your own pain overshadow her victory does her a disservice. Her accomplishment deserves to be celebrated.”
Surprisingly, the man had a point. “I give you my word that nobody will forget what Winter did today.”
“All people are forgotten in time. Heroes were gone from the world for so long, people began to question whether they truly existed at all. Yog terrorised Albion in her day, but over the years, memories withered until nothing remained but old stories.”
“I should have been there,” said Sterling. “I left Winter behind, turned my back on someone who needed my aid.”
“Bollocks,” said Shroud. “Our job was to keep the people of Grayrock alive. We did that. Most of ’em, at any rate.”
“But Winter—”
“Made a choice. As deaths go, I’d say this was a good one, and I’ve seen plenty. Are you so arrogant that you’d take that choice from her?” He clucked his tongue. “And you didn’t answer my question. How do you mean to die?”
Sterling sighed. “Heroically, I suppose. I’ve never given it much thought.”
“You should. It’s important. Potentially the most important moment of your life.”
“You’re a very morbid person.”
“Goes with the job,” said Shroud.
A chill crept up Sterling’s legs. “Did you feel that?”
“I felt nothing, and I’d prefer to keep it that way, so mind your right hand.”
“Stay here.” Sterling slid free of their awkward embrace and dived. Muddy water stung his eyes. The sun shone overhead, but he couldn’t see more than the murky shadows of the buildings below. He kicked harder, confirming what he had felt, then returned to the barrel. “The water’s colder just behind us.”
To Shroud’s credit, he didn’t waste time with questions. He unwound a slender black rope from his belt and gave one end to Sterling. “Tug twice if you find something. Three times if you need help. I’ll stay with the barrel to make sure it’s still here when you come back up.”
Sterling knotted the rope around his wrist, held his breath, and dived again. He followed the icy water until his hands touched the stone tile of a slanted rooftop. The tiles were so cold, he jerked his hands away. This couldn’t be natural, and Winter was the only one he knew who could create such cold. But was this something she had done deliberately, or a side effect of her death?
Hope hammered in his ribs. He grabbed the edge of the roof and pulled himself down, searching for a door or window. He found the door open, but a table blocked the way just inside. His chest was beginning to hurt, like the ribs were squeezing his lungs and heart. He’d have to go back for air soon.
Instead, he kicked the table aside and dragged himself through. It felt like he had fallen into a mountain pool in the middle of winter, and he barely managed to stop himself from gasping in shock. He kept his hands in front of him, shoving past chairs and floating clothes that tangled his limbs like seaweed in the darkness.
Fingers clasped his collar, and this time he did try to shout, losing some of his precious air. Before he could tug Shroud’s line for help, he was dragged up into a pocket of frigid air.
“Who’s there?”
Sterling was gasping for breath so hard, it took him three tries to respond. “Winter?”
“Sterling! You were supposed to get out of town before I broke the dam!”
“We did.” Sterling found her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. Her body was like ice. “And then I came back to look for you. Shroud and I both did.”
“We had to hide from Yog,” said Winter. “I was too exhausted to make it to land. If she found us, I wouldn’t have had the strength to fend her off.”
Sterling yanked the line twice. “We saw the dam come down.”
Winter chuckled weakly. “Glory was Mayor of Grayrock for less than a day, and you see what happened?”
“How did you survive?” His teeth were chattering.
“The dam was falling apart. The rocks and water smashed the closest buildings to gravel. I held on as long as I could, but when I felt my section of the dam start to give way, I jumped.” She laughed again, the sound strained and weary. “That was fun, like cliff diving, but I landed in a mass of panicked redcaps. They were screaming and flailing and trying to drag me down. I finally dived as deep as I could until I found a house with air bubbling out of it. I froze the roof to keep the rest of the air from escaping, and we’ve been hiding here ever since.”
Sterling’s hands found the underside of the roof. Icicles hung from the slats between the rafters.
“I planned to wait until nightfall, then try to sneak out,” said Winter. “Assuming the air lasted that long. But I’m not sure I can keep this up. You can hear dripping of melting icicles. I used everything I had to bring down the dam. I can’t—”
“You can.” Finding Winter alive had eradicated every trace of doubt or despair from Sterling’s heart. “You didn’t single-handedly stop Yog’s army just to meet your end here.”
“So her plan worked?” Kas’s voice came from the rafters behind Winter.
“Brilliantly. Glory is leading the townspeople to Brightlodge.” He could feel the tension ease from Winter’s body. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“I admit it,” said Kas. “I’m impressed, lass.”
“As am I.” Sterling reached up, searching for something to grab on to in order to help keep him afloat, but the ice covering the ceiling made that both impractical and painful. He took the dagger from his belt, stabbed it into the ceiling, and clung to the hilt. “You’ve done well. Now let’s get you out of here.”
“How are you planning to do that?” asked Kas.
“Simple.” Sterling flashed his most confident smile before remembering neither of them could see him. “We walk.”
The water had a strange effect on the sounds of the world, muffling some but amplifying others. The occasional collapsing building sounded like distant thunder, and it was impossible to tell exactly where the noise came from.
The same was true of the underwater redcaps. Their shouts and laughter grew gradually louder as they neared the icy house, as did the grinding noise of the stones they dragged along like makeshift anchors, but Sterling couldn’t pinpoint the direction of their approach. He kept one hand on the door frame as he squinted through the murky water. The dirt and mud had settled somewhat, but he still couldn’t see much beyond his own hand.
He pulled himself back inside to the noticeably staler pocket of air where Shroud and Winter waited. “They’re close.”
“Good,” said Shroud. He had joined them a short time before. He and Sterling spoke in low whispers, uncertain whether the redcaps would hear. “We’re running out of time.”
Winter shivered uncontrollably, one hand on the icy ceiling. Sterling wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold on.
“The Conclave taught us to fight underwater,” Shroud commented. “The water will take your speed and power. The thrust is the most effective strike.”
“Understood. Are you ready?”
“Always.” Shroud’s hand touched Sterling’s shoulder. A moment later, Shroud pressed a metal pan into his hand. “I found one for me, too.”
“Excellent. Let’s make some noise.” Sterling pulled his dagger, held it and the pan underwater, and rammed the metal pommel into the pan. Shroud did the same.
Sterling tilted his head so that one ear was underwater. The ring of metal on metal sounded like a series of muted clicks, but they worked. Soon the muffled voices of bucket-helmed redcaps grew louder.
“It’s oer here!”
“Di ye bang yer skull? They’re in tha hoose there.”
“Yer both bampots!”
It wasn’t long before the first redcap reach
ed the house. The dragging stones sent vibrations through the walls, and the flow of the water was subtly different, echoes of the redcap’s movements pressing against Sterling’s skin.
“On three,” Sterling breathed. He pressed one finger to Shroud’s shoulder, then two. When his third finger touched Shroud, they both pushed, held their breath, and ducked below the water.
Sterling could just make out the shadowy form of the redcap standing in the flooded dining area. Sterling reached out and rapped his knuckles against the oversized bucket protecting its head. The redcap spun towards him, and Shroud struck from behind. Moments later they were back with Winter and Kas.
“Not the most honourable approach, but one does the best one can,” said Sterling. The bucket was about two feet wide, with a rope handle that could be fitted beneath the chin like the strap of a helmet. The redcap had tied sacks of stone to each ankle to keep him submerged.
“Come on,” said Shroud. “We’ve got two more buckets to fetch.”
The bucket over Sterling’s head limited his vision even more than the muddy water. He could see nothing save his own feet trudging along the ground. No wonder it had been so easy to surprise the redcaps.
Sterling and Shroud supported Winter’s arms as they walked. The rocks tied to their feet stirred swirls of dirt with each step. It was slower going than Sterling had expected. The air in his bucket had grown intolerably hot and stale by the time they reached the edge of the quarry. Sterling’s body was numb, and his limbs were tingling. His breathing was quick and shallow. Twice he almost lost his grip on Winter.
“We’re close,” he said, seeking to rally the others. Neither Winter nor Shroud responded.
They were almost to the cliff when Shroud stopped moving. Sterling swore and reached past Winter to shake Shroud by the arm. There was no response.
Sterling fumbled to unsheathe his dagger. It took him three tries to cut the stones from Shroud’s ankles, and he was pretty sure he slashed the man’s legs in the process. He grabbed Shroud with one hand to keep him from floating away, then cut himself and Winter loose as well.
The air in the buckets pulled them up. The instant Sterling reached the surface, he tilted his own bucket back and gasped, filling his lungs with the cool evening air. He lifted the edge of Winter’s bucket and listened to make sure she was still breathing. He took care of Shroud next. Shroud was mumbling to himself about a job for the Conclave and didn’t appear to know where he was. Probably hallucinating.
Only a sliver of sunlight remained above the horizon. They were at the eastern edge of the lake, a short distance from safety. A few buckets bobbed on the surface behind them. Redcaps coming up for air, presumably. Yog was still flying to and fro. She had expanded her range and was now searching the woods beyond Grayrock’s boundaries.
“Come on,” Sterling whispered.
“To where?” Winter’s words were slurred.
“First we catch up with Glory and the others,” said Sterling. “Then we go after Yog.”
“The curse might be broken, but she’ll remain weak until she’s had the chance to feed on Heroes,” said Kas.
“Her twisted appetite will draw her to Brightlodge,” guessed Sterling. “The town will be one big, Heroic buffet.”
“Yog won’t strike right away,” Kas continued. “Winter hurt her badly. She’ll need time to rebuild her forces. For the moment, she’s vulnerable. And Yog has lived too long to let impatience push her into foolish risks.”
“That means we still have time to stop her.” The thought brought warmth to Sterling’s muscles as he dragged himself onto the trail. They had lost Grayrock, but they had survived, and who knew how many lives they had saved from Yog’s monsters and her poison. That was a victory worthy of celebration. Just as soon as the feeling returned to his extremities.
By the time they reached the safety of the bushes where he and Shroud had stowed their things, Sterling was shivering so hard he could barely walk. Never had he so envied Shroud the heavy cloak he snatched from behind a bush and wrapped around himself. As for Winter, she simply lay back and closed her eyes.
“None of that.” Sterling shook her by the shoulder, and was rewarded with a groan and a halfhearted punch to his arm.
He pulled on his boots, then reached for Arbiter. His fingers touched an empty sheath. His fatigue vanished instantly. “Someone’s been here,” he whispered.
“I know.” Shroud was patting down the various pockets inside his cloak. “Took some of my favourite toys.”
Sterling hauled Winter to her feet, though his own muscles protested. He felt like his own limbs had turned to stone.
They had gone a short distance into the hills when something large and white flew from a ledge up ahead. Sterling sidestepped and smacked it aside with his left hand. The missile—a skull of some sort—shattered against the rocks.
“Clever Heroes.” The singsong words dissolved into mad laughter. A redcap, then. Either one of the partially transformed survivors of Grayrock, or one of Yog’s minions who had survived Winter’s flood. “Up, up, up they crawl, but which one has the doll?”
A stone hit Shroud’s hip. He grunted, then hurled a small, spinning blade into the shadows. Metal struck stone, and the redcap giggled.
Sterling started towards the sound, but Shroud caught his arm. “Most of my caltrops are missing. If he’s smart, he’s spread them across the trail. Step on one of those and you won’t walk for a week.”
Winter was too exhausted to help. It looked like it was taking all of her strength simply to remain conscious.
“Trade!” the redcap shouted. The sound came from higher up the trail. Perhaps one of the scraggly pine trees that clung to the hillside. “Give Blue the doll. You get broken skull.”
“Is that a threat?” Sterling asked.
“I think he means the skull he threw at you.”
Sterling eased forwards, sweeping his boots across the path with each step before shifting his weight. He had taken only three steps when something splashed onto the ground in front of him.
“What was that?” asked Winter.
“Could be poison,” laughed Blue. “Could be redcap piss. Who knows! Give Blue the doll, or else you fall.” A fist-sized rock hit Sterling in the shoulder. He staggered back.
Sterling glanced at the doll. “Yog is quite determined to get you back.”
“Aye,” said Kas. “She hoards grudges like a dragon with her gold.”
Shroud tossed a small ceramic pot to Sterling. “The redcap didn’t take all the good toys. Just light and throw. Land it within five feet of him and he’s in trouble.”
A twisted cotton fuse protruded from the corked top. “Light it with what?”
Shroud patted his cloak pockets. “Dammit, redcap! That was a brand-new Ackerman Quick-Starting fire-flint!”
Blue’s laughter spilled down the trail.
“In my youth, I’d have tossed fire from my bare hands to deal with the likes of this nuisance,” said Kas. “Alas, this form has stolen the better portion of my power.”
Sterling took the doll from Winter and dropped to one knee. “My apologies, good sir.” Before Kas could protest, Sterling scraped the doll’s head against the steel of his knife. Kas yelped as sparks flew from his petrified scalp. A few more tries and Sterling managed to land the sparks on the fuse, which began to hiss and burn. He dropped Kas, scooped up the pot, and hurled it towards the sound of the laughter.
Flame exploded among the rocks and trees, silhouetting a single redcap huddled in the branches. The redcap squealed and jumped back, a move that sent him tumbling out of the tree to land hard on the trail below.
“Forget the trade!” Blue shook his head and staggered to one side. “Keep the skull. You keep the skull!” He threw another rock at Sterling’s chest, but it was a feeble attack, too weak to leave more than a faint bruise.
“Nobody cares about the blasted skull.” Sterling raced forwards, ready to throw the redcap into the lake with his bare han
ds. He froze when he saw the small, steel caltrops fly from Blue’s hand to litter the ground. “Where is my sword?”
Blue laughed and fled down the trail, singing, “Hero lost his blade. Didn’t want to trade. Now he’s sore afraid!” Shroud chuckled. “Catchy tune.”
Kas was massaging the side of his head where the steel of Sterling’s knife had left white scratches on the stone. The blade was scratched as well. “If you ever do that again,” Kas said firmly, “I will personally crawl into your mouth while you sleep and choke you to death from the inside.”
“Understood.” Sterling picked up a caltrop and handed it to Shroud. Most of their things were probably near the redcap’s hiding spot. Blue hadn’t been carrying Arbiter when he fled. “Did he truly expect to beat the three of us with nothing more than rocks?”
“He’s a redcap,” said Winter, as if that explained everything.
Sterling picked up one of the broken pieces of the skull the redcap had thrown at him. Offering to trade an enchanted doll for a bit of old bone? Yet another thing that only made sense if you had nails in your—
He frowned and turned the skull towards the dying flames of Shroud’s bomb. There were letters scratched into the bone.
“What is it?” asked Shroud.
“I’m not sure.” Sterling knelt, searching for other fragments.
“We can’t stay here,” Winter said wearily. “There will be more stragglers, and Yog may have seen that firepot go off.”
Sterling picked up another shard of bone. “We were unable to save Grayrock, but we will protect Brightlodge. The closest Yog will come to feasting on Heroes is when she tastes my steel.”
“You mean that steel?” Shroud smirked and pointed to the top of the pine tree where Sterling’s sword hung like a broken branch.
With a sigh, Sterling dropped the skull pieces into a pocket and began climbing …
Yog ran her heavily scarred tongue over her teeth. The scars had dulled her sense of taste, and there were times she longed to be able to enjoy a bowl of beet-and-onion soup the way she had in the distant haze of her youth, but such was the cost of survival and old age.
