I swallow.
Cross that bridge when we come to it. The women invited me into this, and I’m content to go with it.
As we travel, the trees thin, are smaller, and they’re spread further and further about. Our horses push through low, rough scrub, snorting with irritation. “Not far now,” Emeree says.
Her words are prophetic. It’s not a minute before we clear the tree line, and my breath is stolen by what they reveal.
A body of water, immense, stretching from horizon to horizon, and as far as I can see. Waves lap on a beach of sand and shale, peppered with boulders or huge logs that have washed ashore. The scene is leant a stark, bleached air by the setting sun, but is no less incredible. “This is...A lake? Not the ocean?”
Emeree’s laugh echoes across the water, and Siri joins for a change. “No chance. Come on, hero. The village is this way.” Emeree canters out, letting her horse gallop.
Glaer and Hafna follow suit, neighing with joy at finally being out of the woods, having room to run. We chase Emeree, our horses’ hooves throwing dark clouds of sand into the air. We vault a fallen tree, and though Siri's horse barely clear it, she’s smiling as the wind pulls pinprick tears from her eyes.
I’m smiling, too. In fact, I’m laughing.
I’m pretty happy with all this.
The village comes into view as we round a shallow spit, and we draw up. Our horses pant but prance with excitement.
I scrub my eyes. “Any chance there’s a barge with a bed?”
Emeree raises a hand to shield against the sun. “It’ll take about two hours to cross. Once we’re off, you can get some sleep while we keep watch.”
Sounds like heaven. “Let’s go.”
We resume, slower this time, but it takes only moments to realize that’s something’s wrong. There’s no smoke above the village, no ships dotting the waves, no fishermen dotting the long pier that juts into the lake.
The Sirens see it, too. Emeree curses, but we don’t speak. The beach is flat, and easy ride, and we eat the distance to the outbuildings quickly.
Empty. No one approaches to hail us, ask our business. No dogs bark, warning folks just settling at their hearth after supper. No children peek at us from cracked shutters. “Where is everyone?”
“Gone. Or dead,” Siri says, grim faced.
I swallow, don’t answer. Suddenly, speaking feels blasphemous.
We pass onto the village main thoroughfare, it’s only real street. The entire village is only thirty or so buildings, and at least half of those form a corridor stretching to the dock, consisting of open fronted shops, complete with display boards sporting the skeletons of long rotted fish. A tavern towers over everything, the only two-story building in the village, a pile of bleached boards with a sign depicting a drunk fish.
And like the rest of the village, it’s empty.
When we find the dock, we discover why.
Skeletons. At least a hundred of them, are piled on the beach. I close my eyes a moment, sending a silent prayer to Cailleach as we approach.
Emeree curses again. “Dray.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “I thought we beat them back years ago.”
“We did,” Siri says, falling from her horse like an avalanche. “I was there.” She picks up a long bone, turning it in her hand. There are cuts in it, three of them, parallel. Like a sword with three blades. “Dray weaponry.”
“But...How?”
“I don’t know,” Emeree frowns. “I didn’t think there were enough of them left in the world to organize something like this.” She sighs. “A lot happened while we were asleep.”
I shake my head. I can see the bones of children, even dogs, in the mass. And everywhere are the three bladed marks. “They were slaughtered.”
“One more thing to worry about,” Emeree says.
“But not now.” Siri moves off, leading her horse. Her face is impassive, but I can her deep sorrow, and her shoulders slump with resignation. I follow put a hand to her shoulder, though I don’t speak. I don’t know if she’s the type to wait, or grieve, but maybe she’ll welcome some comfort.
She puts a hand over mine, squeezes.
Emeree is the last to mount the docks. “Hopefully, there’s still something we can use. Ewan, how close is it?”
I squint, cast my senses out. Shit. “Close. It’s moving faster than before. Can it...Can it tell we’re about to hit the water? How?”
“Doesn’t matter, now.” Emeree says, bouncing in place. She turns, pulls her blade. “If it’s that close…”
“No, no,” I say, turning her. “Don’t ask me how I know. I don’t understand it myself. But we do not want to fight this.”
She searches my eyes a moment, worrying her lip. Siri watches us, still as a grave. Finally, Emeree nods. “Okay. I trust you. Let’s get the hells out of here.”
We turn, dashing onto the dock, searching for a boat. Most of them are derelict, half sunken, but further out, one still floats. It’s not large, not much more than a skiff, but it’ll hold us. “Damn. We’ll have to leave the horses.”
Emeree blinks. “Ewan, the horses can swim.”
I gape. “They can?”
She chucks my arm. “I keep forgetting how much you didn’t need to know, living in the forest. To answer your question, yes, they can. Though we’ll have to mind them. They sit low in the water, and if their head goes under, they’ll drown. But we can use their leads to help them along.”
“Good.” I clench and unclench my wrists. “Let’s hurry. Not long now.”
We quickly strip the horses of saddles, packs, and straps, then stow everything in the boat. I lead the animals back along the docks, and then down the beach, fighting back panic at how long it’s taking. I toss long ropes we’ve attached to their bridles back to Emeree, to snags them deftly midair.
Back on the docks, I run, snagging a few extra oars before I hop into the boat, bracing as it takes my weight. Siri unmoors us, pulling free a rope so ancient it half dissolves in her hands. The boat cants, tilting ominously as she steps in, and wooden sides sink low in the water. The huge Siren swallows, face pale.
I raise an eyebrow.
She purses her lips, as if not willing to answer, before turning away. “I hate boats.”
Emeree winks. “She’s afraid of the water.”
Siri turns a glare so fearsome on her that I almost get back on the dock.
Emeree just sticks out her tongue.
Siri ignores her, takes a deep breath, then seizes the oars like she’s imagining that they’re Emeree’s neck. She uses one to push off from the dock, and we’re adrift.
The itch in my brain is screaming. I can feel whatever it is, coming, running faster than a horse, like a river of death. On shore, the horses rear, ready to bolt. They feel it, too. “Go, go! It’s almost here.”
Siri complies, sending us flying into the water with long strokes of her powerful arms. Her muscles bunch and cord as she pulls protesting oars, and the horses whicker in fear as they splash into the water. True to Emeree’s words, when they get deep enough, they don’t sink, but swim along behind us, their heads just above the surface.
What passes is the longest seconds of my life. Siri must slow her pace, so she doesn’t outdistance the animals, but we still move quickly, putting distance between us and the dead village.
None of us speak, but Emeree’s fingers lace through mine, squeezing. Tension rattles through our connection like a stone thrown across cobbles, and the only sounds are the lap of the calm water, our breathing, and the relentless swish and pull of the oars.
Something falls over me, a dark awareness, and I turn in my seat to look back.
“It’s here.”
A lone figure, no larger than a man, stands alone on the beach, watching us. It’s tall, with a body as pale as dead skin, and entirely naked. It has no genitals, no marking or hair.
And its skin writhes.
Even at a distance, it’s face moves, flows, chan
ges from moment to moment, and its body ripples, twists, like its flesh is made of thousands of milky white worms. Suddenly, it’s arm rips free, falls to the ground, then flows back into its leg, reabsorbing before reforming at its shoulder, shaped differently this time.
“What in Ora’s name is that?” I ask as its head melts into its torso, reappearing at its stomach to continue its blank eyed stare.
“Genglot,” Emeree says, voice hollow.
Siri’s face is grave. “We have to hurry.”
Fear grips me. If the Sirens are afraid… “Have you fought one?”
“No. Well, Thora did, once.” Emeree swallows, hand tight on my arm. “She said it was bad. Very bad.”
“Can you hit it with your bow?” Siri asks.
“I think so, if you hold us steady,” I say, cursing myself for not thinking of it.
I stand, my hand at the side of the boat as I get my balance. Siri stops rowing, and through it rocks gently beneath me, it’s steady. I pull my bow, squint. Wonder if this will even work, considering their reaction “Long shot,” I mutter.
Then, in a movement so natural it’s akin to breathing, I raise the bow and draw. I sight my target, still standing like a living nightmare, unmoving and not following. I draw, pulling tight as the bow will allow, and the arrow that bursts into life crackles with magic so potent the hair on my arms stands straight.
I’ve never felt more justified in ending something else’s life. Whatever that is over there, it’s an abomination. I feel it in my heart, my soul.
I loose.
The arrow arcs high, trailing through the dim light like a comet.
It falls like a meteor.
The arrow strikes true, a perfect shot, that impacts the Genglot’s white torso. The creature explodes in a coruscation of blue lightning, splattering in every direction, raining down on the beach like fleshy hail.
Emeree claps me on the back, whooping. “Yes! Got ‘em!”
Siri leans back, and I can feel her tension drain. “A fine shot.”
I don’t answer, don’t move. Something isn’t right. It can’t be that easy. The feeling, in my soul, of dirtiness, of filth, is undiminished. “Wait.”
Emeree steps carefully next to me, hand still at my back, watching. “What?”
“It’s not dead.”
The surface of the beach is flowing, moving, like writhing insects. Even shielding my eyes against the sunset, it’s hard to make out, but it looks like…
“Damn. It’s reforming,” Emeree says, voice hushed.
Slowly, the Genglot rises, standing rooted to the exact spot it held before my arrow tore it apart. Piece by piece, it rebuilds, as more and more wriggling flesh rejoins it. Bits and chunks ripple across dark sand, attaching at the creature’s feet, restoring it bit by bit.
“How the hells do we kill it?” I ask, voice high with banked panic.
“I don’t know,” Emeree says. “Gods, I wish Thora were here.”
“She isn’t, so we go,” Siri says, pulling hard on the oars. One snaps, and the sound of shattering wood startles me. The Siren curses, picking up one of my spares, and resumes.
All the while, I never take my eyes off the figure on the beach, it’s white silhouette like a ghost of the village made real.
The last piece of the Genglot rejoins the host.
It cocks its head, watching us for a long moment.
And then it steps into the water.
“Get ready,” Emeree says. “If it’s as fast out here as it was on land…”
But it doesn’t swim. With each step, it walks further into the lake, feet never leaving the bottom. It doesn’t float, and after a few moments, its pale head disappears beneath the surface.
“How…” My heart gallops like a horse, and my hands shake. Thus far, those we’ve fought have been people, and how we fought them made sense, was understandable. Even Arkis, who threw dark magic at us, was a person, could be killed with a blow from a blade or bolt.
But this? My breaths come in quick hitches. I’ve never fought, never seen something like this. “What do we do?”
“Run,” Siri says. “And if it catches us, we fight.”
Emeree’s blade springs free. “Maybe a couple of goddess blessed weapons will do more than your arrow.”
Somehow, I doubt it.
The last of the sun drops below the dark horizon.
“Torches,” I say, pulling one free. “No point in hiding, it knows exactly where we are. “Lighting it in the rocking boat is a nightmare of logistics and sparks spraying across ancient wood, but before long, Emeree and I hoist twin brands as we peer into the darkness, searching for a sign of our enemy.
“How deep is the lake, here?” I ask, skin itching. Is it below us?
“Not deep. Maybe twenty feet,” Emeree says. “I fished here, a long time ago. Knew people in that village.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Siri rows.
“What is that?” Emeree asks, crouching over the back of the boat to peer backward.
“I don’t...Wait…” I maneuver next to her, so close I can smell her strawberry hair.
Behind us, not far from the horses, the water churns. It’s surface boils, but not with heat. Like something below the surface is thrashing, displacing water. Glaer whinnies in terror, legs flailing the water.
I raise the torch higher, eyes wide. Something peppers the water, pouring upward as the water flows, only to disappear back below the surface. Hundreds of somethings. Thousands. “What are those?”
“Fish,” Emeree breathes, astonished. “Well, fish skeletons.”
She’s right. I can make out little skulls, pieces of spine and ribs. Some are far bigger than others, lake fish two or three feet long. Their flesh is stripped from them, mostly, with only little strips and trailing pieces of skin marking that these aren’t long dead.
“It’s...Consuming them.” My hand strangles my bow. The agony of waiting, of not knowing what it’s doing, is killing me. “Why?”
“I don’t–” Her responses ends in a gasp as suddenly, without warning, Falnir is yanked below the surface, so violently I can hear her spine break.
“No!” Emeree and I scream together. Moments later, the horse’s skeleton, barely connected by ligament or tissue, is thrown from the water, and for a frozen moment her skull, picked clean in a heartbeat, stares at us in accusation.
This can’t be real. This can’t be fucking happening. “Siri, turn us around. We have to save the others.”
Before she can respond, Hafna goes down, her last shriek swallowed by dark water. Siri's bond pulses with anger, sadness, but she never stops rowing, never relents.
And she doesn’t turn around.
“Siri,” I say, tears running down my face. I can barely breathe, and a fist grips my heart like a vice. “Please. Please, he’s the last thing I have of my village. There’s still time. Please.”
Siri's face never changes, but the sorrow in her eyes breaks me.
“I’m sorry.”
She’s right. I hate that she’s right.
I turn, know what I have to do. I can’t let Glaer die like this.
Even if I can’t save him.
Emeree stands with me as I pull a wooden arrow, draw, and through tears that rob my vision, loose.
Glaer stares at me, eyes sad and uncomprehending, until my arrow passes through his brain. He makes no sound as his body spasms and he disappears to be consumed.
Moments later his skeleton explodes upward, thrown so violently pieces of it detach and scatter across the water.
My heart is ice. “I’m going to kill it.” I don’t know how, but I will.
“We’re with you.” Emeree’s blade hangs, a bar of onyx reflecting the firelight.
Siri pulls the oars, so steady it’s almost mechanical. Now that we’re not tethered to the horses, we fairly fly across the water. For a moment, I dare to hope that it’s fast enough, that we can escape, that if the Genglot follows us, we can fig
ht it on less uncertain terrain.
The water calms. I can’t see the creature, have no idea where it is, but it’s not gone. I can still feel it, permeating my flesh like rot. The filth in my soul is so profound, so deeply rooted that I want to vomit.
I scan the dark water and wait for some sign. Close my eyes, cast my senses out. Where are you?
Oh no. “Shit, Siri! Below us!”
Siri's battlefield honed reflexes kick in, and instantly, she taps her gift. I can feel her strength surge, and when she pulls the oars, we skip across the water like a flat stone. The oars groan in protest, but hold.
And then I can see it. A white mass, just below and behind us, rising with terrifying speed. It clears the surface of the water like a putrefied whale. And it keeps coming, rising ponderously, until it towers over us.
The Genglot is giant. On the shore, it was the size of a man. Now, it’s taller than an oak.
“Gods, if it’s standing on the bottom…” I whisper.
“Look,” Emeree says. “The fish.”
She’s right. The Genglot looks much like it did on the shore; a writhing, naked mass of flesh like pale, wet snakes. Absorbed into it are the skeletons of fish that swirl into and out of it, their flesh consumed. Bones, cleaned so completely that they look bleached white, pop out of the creature to fall into the waters below, used up and no longer needed.
“It’s consuming life, using it to add to itself,” I say.
The Genglot takes a long step after us, it’s stride long enough to eat a huge amount of the distance. But Siri's gift has us flying, and it’s not fast enough, slowly disappearing behind us into the night.
“How long can you keep this up?” I ask.
“Long enough,” Siri groans. She shows no signs of tiring, of releasing her gift, but I can feel her strain, her exhaustion. Telltale spiderwebs of dark cracks appear across her arms, face, like ink stains in parchment.
“Let one of us take over, in a moment. You can’t keep–”
“It’s stopped.” Emeree slumps with relief, dropping the tip of her sword.
She’s right. Behind us, the Genglot slows, then stops. It’s won’t stop chasing us, I know, and I dread the idea of fighting it on land or anywhere, but anything’s better than this godsdamned boat.
Steel Sirens Page 31
