Waterfire Saga (4 Book Series)

by Jennifer Donnelly

  Sera put her sword back in its scabbard. She turned to face her friends and said, “Why does that scare me even more?”

  MOURNERS PILED Regelbrott’s grave high with rocks. Sera placed the last one.

  Then, head bowed, she joined her voice with the others, goblin and mer, singing the soldier’s dirges.

  Regelbrott had died last night. The lack of food and frigid temperatures, combined with the polar fever that was working its way through the camp, had been too much for her. Her comrades had buried her with full military honors. Her grave was one of over fifty that now dotted the seafloor at the edge of the Black Fins’ camp.

  As the last notes of the dirge faded, another sound was heard—high, manic laughter. Sera raised her eyes. She knew what was making the sound, even before she saw them—skavveners.

  They’d assembled high above the camp, on a broad ridge on Bleak Mount. Their clothing, ripped from corpses, was ragged and full of holes. Pillaged jewels dangled from their necks and earlobes. Their hair hung in their faces, dirty and lank.

  “Shoot them if they come any closer,” she told Garstig as she left the grave.

  As she made her way back to camp, Alítheia by her side, she clapped her gloved hands together to warm them. The cold of the Southern Sea was like nothing she’d ever known. It was a predator circling for a kill.

  The Black Fins had reached the Carceron a week ago and still hadn’t sighted Abbadon; they’d only heard an occasional growl or echoing laughter.

  They’d set up camp in a semicircle facing the Carceron but well back from its gates. Sentries had been stationed along the camp’s perimeter, to watch for Astrid, or an enemy’s approach. More had been posted at the prison’s gate with orders to report any movement from inside.

  But the monster didn’t show itself.

  It was eerily quiet, and there was nothing to do but watch and wait.

  Dusk began to fall as Sera moved through the camp. Goblins and mer, hooded in sealskin, hunched against the cold, warmed themselves at waterfires, or gathered around the lava pond.

  Thankfully, the goblins had found a seam, and had opened it wide. The Black Fins could at least warm themselves at the bubbling pool of molten rock now. Sera heard more coughing as she swam past her troops. Antoine and Gervais, two of Manon Laveau’s alligators, were sneezing, even though they’d been enchanted against the cold. The swamp queen and her retinue had joined forces with Sera, too.

  Even Alítheia was suffering in the Antarctic climate. Her usual quick scuttle had slowed markedly. The frigid temperatures had thickened the oil in her metal joints.

  The cold, the uncertainty, the waiting…they had become the Black Fins’ enemies, too. They frayed tempers, wore nerves thin, made Sera and her soldiers grim and tense.

  Sera headed to the Carceron now. She went there several times a day to see if Abbadon had decided to show itself. As she approached the prison, she saw that she had company this evening. Ava was floating by its gates, her hands wrapped around the iron bars.

  “Any sign of life?” Sera asked as she swam up to her.

  Ava shook her head. “It’s still in hiding. I can hear it, though, if I listen hard.”

  “I don’t get it,” Sera said, frowning. “The last time we saw it, in the Iele’s caves, it broke right through the witches’ protective spell and tried to kill us all. Why isn’t it doing that now?”

  “I think Orfeo told it to hide.”

  Sera’s frown deepened. “Is he coming, Ava? Can you see him?”

  Ava shook her head.

  “What about Astrid?”

  “Nothing there, either.”

  “Nothing at all? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, and it doesn’t make any sense,” Ava said, frustration in her voice. “If Astrid got the two talismans and made it out of Shadow Manse, he’d go after her. He’d be chasing her down here. And if she didn’t get the talismans, he’d still be on his way down here. Because he’s no fool. He’ll have found out by now that we’re here with the other four talismans.”

  Sera nodded. “If he knows we’re here, he’ll know we have an army. A big one. He wouldn’t come without troops of his own. He doesn’t have the soldiers he thought he’d have, but there are always mercenaries to be found.”

  “If he was coming with an army, I’d know. All those soldiers, mina…I’d sense something. I’d feel all those dark hearts getting closer. Unless…” She hesitated, uncertainty in her voice. “Unless I can’t. Sera, I’m scared I’m losing my ability to sense things. I mean, I sure didn’t see Traho coming, back in the Spiderlair.”

  “That was only because you’d just escaped the Okwa Naholo. It took all you had to outsmart those things. No one would have seen Traho coming,” Sera said, trying to reassure her. “Your inner sight is still sharp, Ava. When we first arrived here, you sensed that Abbadon was hiding deep inside the Carceron, didn’t you?”

  Ava didn’t reply, but she didn’t need to. Sera could see in her face that she wasn’t convinced. Ava’s sadness, and her self-doubt, hadn’t lifted.

  Ava turned her face to the gate again. Listening. Sensing.

  “Why don’t the gods answer, Sera? Why won’t they tell us how to kill Abbadon?”

  “They haven’t answered yet,” Sera said, trying to sound hopeful. “They’re the gods. They tend to do things on their own schedule.”

  “I’m getting nothing from him now,” Ava said quietly. “Not even a whisper.”

  “It’s so weird,” Sera said, peering into the murk beyond the bars. “I expected an insane monster roaring at us. I expected Orfeo, soldiers, battles, an ambush from Lucia….I never expected nothing.”

  “Maybe Orfeo’s trying to throw us off our guard.”

  “Well, he won’t,” Sera said resolutely. “We have sentries patrolling the camp’s perimeter. He’s not getting close without us knowing.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Ava said wearily.

  “Get some rest. Alítheia will take you to your tent,” Sera said. Her heart hurt for her despondent friend. She longed for the boisterous, colorful Ava that she knew.

  Alítheia gently offered Ava one of her legs to hold. Ava took it, and the two started back to the center of camp. But after they’d gone a few yards, Ava stopped and turned around.

  “Vrăja said the Six Who Ruled were strongest when they were together. She said we would be, too. Maybe you’re right, Sera. Maybe the gods just haven’t answered yet. Maybe they will when Astrid comes. When the talismans are reunited. When we are.”

  Ava was trying to hang on to a shred of hope. They all were.

  “Maybe so, Aves,” Sera said softly.

  And then Ava and Alítheia disappeared into the gloom.

  Sera turned back to the Carceron. She looked down at the scorched place where the Iele’s waterfire used to burn, and she remembered how scared she’d been when Vrăja summoned her. Now she’d give anything to have the river witch near. Sera had talked to Kora and Lena about Abbadon. She’d talked to the trolls and the whales. No one had been able to tell her what she needed to know—how to kill it.

  She heard Ava’s voice in her head. Maybe the gods just haven’t answered yet.

  And then she heard something else—low, gurgling laughter. It was coming from deep inside the Carceron.

  A shiver ran through her. Buttoning the collar of her sealskin coat around her neck, she headed back to her tent.

  The cold stalked her as she swam, making her teeth chatter.

  Tomorrow, she would double the amount of soldiers sent out to hunt. There wasn’t much here, but maybe they could find the tiny translucent fish that darted along the seafloor, some mud worms, and the shrimplike amphipods. If they got enough of them, the camp’s cooks could make a hot stew to warm the troops.

  Finding another lava seam would help, too. She would order work crews to search for one first thing in the morning.

  Sera was determined to fight the cold at every turn.

  For now, it was the only e
nemy she could fight.

  SOMETHING WAS WRONG. Sera knew it before she opened her eyes.

  Before the camp’s alarm sounded.

  Before the shouts and commands rang out.

  Before Becca, breathless, came racing into her tent.

  “Sera, come quick. We’ve got trouble.”

  Dawn was just breaking. Sera had fallen asleep sitting in a chair. She was up and out of it immediately. “What is it?” she asked tersely.

  “Cadavru. At least, that’s what Vrăja called them.”

  “Rotters? Becs, a few dead goggs stumbling around are no reason to sound the alarm.”

  “There’s an entire army of them, Sera. They’ve surrounded the camp.”

  Fear clutched at Sera. “Who’s leading them?”

  “No one, as far as we can tell. They’re not advancing. They’re just standing there.”

  “And Abbadon?”

  “He suddenly woke up,” Becca said grimly. “He’s making noise. A lot of noise.”

  Sera quickly put her armor on, grabbed her crossbow, and followed Becca out of the tent. She swam up high in the water, then turned in a slow circle. Becca had not exaggerated. There were tens of thousands of rotters. They outnumbered her own troops. Some were skeletons, their bones stripped clean by scavengers. Others were in various stages of decay, flesh hanging off them like tattered clothing. All were armed with spears or swords. They stood perfectly still, as if waiting for orders.

  “Where are the other commanders?” Sera asked.

  “At the Carceron,” Becca replied.

  Sera sped toward the prison. Becca followed. They found Ling, Ava, Neela, Yazeed, and Garstig near the gate. Noise was emanating from within the prison—roars, laughter, shrieks.

  “Abby’s waking up,” Yazeed said.

  “Yaz, how did the rotters get here?” Sera asked. “Why didn’t we see them coming?”

  “They started circling just before dawn. They must’ve been close last night, but knew enough to stay out of the range of our scouts. We never saw them in the darkness.”

  “And I couldn’t feel them,” Ava said. “I still can’t. There’s nothing there to feel—no heart, no soul.”

  “Whoever sent them knew that,” Ling said. “I’m sure of it.”

  Sera’s fear grew. She fought it down. “We know who sent them. There’s only one mage powerful enough to reanimate so many dead things. Orfeo’s here,” she said. “He’s come for his monster.”

  “Why hasn’t he shown himself?” Ling asked.

  “I think he’s about to,” Yazeed said.

  They all looked where he was pointing, at the seamount above. A figure, hovering by a rocky ledge, made its way down to the seafloor.

  As the figure got closer, though, they all saw that it was a she, not a he.

  The mermaid had blond hair, and the black-and-white tail of an orca. She wore a sleek black dress, a fitted sealskin vest, and a pearl necklace. A sword of Kobold steel hung from a scabbard at her hip. She held her head high, exuding confidence and power.

  As the mermaid swam to the open patch of seafloor between the camp and the Carceron, Sera blinked, barely believing her eyes. The fear she’d felt evaporated. A feeling of triumph surged through her veins.

  “Astrid did it! She got the talismans.”

  She started toward her friend, overjoyed, but a few yards away, she stopped short. Another figure was making its way down the seamount.

  Sera recognized him. He’d come for her once. Through her mirror. He’d tried to kill her. He too had blond hair, and he wore it cropped close to his head. He was without sunglasses now, and she could see his eyes, as black and bottomless as the abyss. He walked instead of swam, for he was a human. Or had been once.

  He joined Astrid. They smiled at each other.

  “Astrid,” Sera said. “Astrid…no.”

  Astrid didn’t reply. She threw a cold glance at Sera, then trained her gaze on the Carceron.

  With a sickening jolt, Sera saw the truth: Astrid had betrayed her. She’d betrayed all of them. The things she’d said during the last convoca were all lies. She’d only said them to get the Black Fins to the Carceron with their talismans. Astrid had asked Sera how many troops she’d had and then given Orfeo that information, which was why his troops outnumbered hers.

  Astrid was Orfeo’s now. And Sera knew why. He had given her something no one else could: her magic, and her pride.

  And now she was about to give Orfeo something in return: the talismans, her friends’ lives…and Abbadon.

  ORFEO WALKED UP TO SERA. He bowed.

  “Serafina, Regina di Miromara, at last we meet in person. It’s an honor,” he said. “Your bravery and resourcefulness, and that of your friends, are remarkable. No one else, not even myself, has managed to find the other five talismans.”

  Sera did not return the bow, or the pleasantries. “You can’t do this, Orfeo,” she said. “You can’t unleash suffering on the entire world just because you’ve suffered.”

  “Actually, I can. I vowed to get my wife back from the underworld, if it took me all of eternity. And now I will.”

  “Not without a fight.”

  Orfeo smiled. “I thought you might say that. Knowing you, you’ll have prepared some brilliant military strategy, much as your mother would have. The logical choice would be for you and your fighters to head for higher waters and attack from there, knowing that my cadavru are not as strong in the water as your troops. But that would be a mistake, because they are,” he said, pointing above him.

  Sera looked up. The waters above were filled with dragons. They hovered menacingly.

  “Razormouths,” Neela said fearfully.

  “Indeed,” said Orfeo, turning to her. “I believe, Your Grace, that you’re acquainted with one of them—the dragon queen herself, Hagarla. She’s carrying a grudge, I’m sorry to say. She’s never quite gotten over the theft of her moonstone. I’ve told her that it’s hers the minute I’m finished with it.” He smile broadened. “And that you are, too. But enough chatter. I want the talismans.”

  “You’ll have to kill me for them,” Sera said, raising her crossbow.

  Orfeo nodded. “As you wish.”

  “ATTACK!” ORFEO ROARED.

  “Forward, brave fighters!” Sera commanded.

  With rallying shouts, guttural growls, and high shrieks, the armies of the living and the dead rushed together, swords clashing against shields, spears and arrows hurtling through the water, songspells flying.

  Above them, Hagarla and her dragons dove, shrieking as they hurtled toward the fray. The humpbacks rushed in and blocked them. Sera heard Kora’s war cries. She saw Lena and her catfish charge into the battle. Seaweed trolls, sand trolls, and ice trolls thundered past, swinging their giant clubs.

  Sera fired her crossbow at Orfeo, but he evaded the arrow. Becca and Yazeed were battling cadavru. Ling was whirling vortexes at Astrid, who was flipping them around and throwing them back at her.

  Ava, holding a dagger, tried to fight, too. She turned this way and that in the water, pointing the blade in the direction of any noise she heard.

  Terrified for her, Sera grabbed her and pushed her down behind a rock. “Alítheia, protect Ava!” she shouted. The spider came pounding toward them, then crouched over the rock, swiping at any cadavru who came close.

  Sera rejoined the battle in time to see Orfeo throw a vicious stilo at Neela. Neela blocked it with a water wall, then returned fire with a fragor lux. He ducked, and it exploded against the wall of the Carceron. Then he countered by whirling a silt cloud at her, to blind her, but Neela somersaulted out of the way. Waterfire followed, and then another stilo. Neela ducked and dodged, parrying his songspells, throwing her own, trying to get closer to him.

  I need to help her! Sera thought frantically.

  She tried to get to Neela, but every time she moved toward her friend, a rotter rushed at her, pushing her back. She used songspells and her sword to fight the creatures off, but
as soon as she’d knocked one’s head off with a stilo, or cut it in two with her sword, another took its place. They were everywhere.

  Sera saw, with an anguished clarity, that her troops were being beaten, and not only by rotters. Ceto and his fellow whales were using all their magic to hold off the Razormouths, yet some of the dragons had broken through their line and were slaughtering Black Fins. Sera could hear death screams. The water was turning crimson.

  Yazeed swam up to her. His face was covered in blood from a gash in his forehead. Ling and Becca were right behind him.

  “We’re getting massacred,” Becca said, panting. “We’ve got to fall back!”

  “To where?” Sera cried. The land around the Carceron was nothing but a rocky flat.

  “We’ll retreat to the south. There’s got to be somewhere to—” Her words were cut off by a roar so terrible, they both had to cover their ears.

  “Abbadon!” Becca cried fearfully. “It must’ve gotten out!”

  “No!” Ling shouted, pointing overhead. “Look!”

  Yazeed tilted his head. “No way,” he said. “I do not believe this.”

  High up in the water, Guldemar—the Meerteufels’ chieftain—was careening toward them at breakneck speed in a bronze chariot pulled by six gray hippokamps. He was driving the animals insanely fast, cracking a whip over their heads again and again. Rising up off the seafloor behind him like a lethal rogue wave was a nightmare come to life.

  “Gå! Förstör det onda!” Guldemar shouted over his shoulder. Go! Destroy this evil!

  Sera knew this nightmare. Guldemar’s throne had been cast in its image. It was the stuff of legends, a mythical beast that the Meerteufel could call up in times of great peril.

  Hafgufa, the kraken.

  WITH A FURIOUS SHRIEK, Hafgufa ripped into Orfeo’s army. She attacked the Razormouths first, biting heads off, gouging wounds into flesh with her yard-long claws, severing limbs with a crack of her scaly tail. Blood and gore clouded the water. Bodies sank to the seafloor.