Aenir

by Garth Nix

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Milla woke exactly as she had ordered herself, on the exhalation of her fourteen-hundredth breath.

  Night was ending, and the sun was starting to rise. Milla stared at it in fascination. It really was like a gigantic Sunstone climbing above the hills.

  "Thank the sky you're awake," said Odris. "I've been so sleepy."

  Milla looked across at the Storm Shepherd. It was not so bad now, but every time she looked she imagined what the creature would be like as a shadow.

  "You may rest," she said curtly. "I will watch."

  "Oh, I'm not tired now," said Odris. "It's just that with the bond between us -"

  "There is no bond!" said Milla angrily. "Or if there is, it is a false one."

  Odris didn't answer. She simply flew off a short distance, to give Milla more space.

  Milla did some stretches, ignoring the pain from her bruises. In the light of day she saw that her legs were mottled with dark patches and scratches. There would be swelling, too, in her joints. It would not be easy for her to walk.

  But she didn't need to, now that she had decided to use the Storm Shepherd to help her.

  "Odris!" she called. The Storm Shepherd drifted closer.

  "Pick me up," Milla ordered, holding up her arms. "We will fly to the closest water. I need to drink and wash."

  Odris reached down and gripped Milla's forearms with her puffy fingers. Then she rose up in a series of jerks, trailing Milla only a few stretches above the ground.

  They headed east, but Odris could not lift Milla very high. Every now and then she actually dropped down far enough that Milla's feet touched, which hurt, since they were flying quite fast. Milla noticed that Odris seemed able to change the wind so it always blew behind her, driving in the direction the Storm Shepherd chose.

  The grassland continued for a long time. Odris started to dip more often and Milla's feet got quite sore, until finally they saw a small lake ahead. Bright blue, it glittered in the morning sun, an irregular patch of water about as big as a full-grown Selski and much the same shape.

  "Set me down," Milla demanded.

  Once again, Odris complied without speaking. She dropped Milla gently enough, right by the water's edge, then shot sharply up to rest fifty stretches or more above the Icecarl.

  Milla looked at the water carefully. On her world, open water was rare and very dangerous. Apart from a few permanent areas near hot springs, it only occurred where the living sea of the Selski met the Slepenish that came up through the ice. The result of that encounter was always a vast swath of broken ice and choppy seas.

  This water was very clear. Milla could see right down to its sandy bottom. She could see no sign of any fish, but there were small clumps of weeds.

  Even so, Milla was cautious. She drew her Merwinhorn sword. Keeping it in her right hand, she knelt down to dip her left hand in the lake and take a drink of water.

  As her fingers touched the surface, the water suddenly frothed and a current began to swirl violently around the edges. Milla snatched her hand back and retreated, sword at the ready.

  The water continued to swirl. Then a huge shape suddenly rose out of the middle of the lake. For a moment Milla thought it was something like a Merwin emerging. Then she saw that it was actually more water, but water that had risen in a definite shape.

  A second later, Milla realized that it was a nose. And there were two deep black holes that were eyes, and ridges of eyebrows made of darker, greener water.

  The water from the lake had formed a giant face.

  The mouth was only a few stretches away from where Milla had knelt. It opened. Water pushed up to form lips, and drained away at the same time to create a throat.

  The lips moved and a gurgling roar came out, accompanied by a fine spray that splashed over Milla. She winced and drew back. It took her a while to recognize that the gurgle was actually speech, and that she could understand it.

  "Who is it comes to take my blood?"

  Milla didn't answer. She started to back away.

  This was all too reminiscent of Hrigga Hill and the Storm Shepherd's Challenge.

  As she backed away, her left hand suddenly thrust itself forward, without her control. Milla grimaced as the jolt ran through into her shoulder. It felt like her hand was held by an invisible rope, but all she could see were a few drops of water where she'd dipped it in the lake.

  "Who comes, who comes to drink my blood?" said the face in the water. "Do you seek to leave so soon?"

  Milla tugged on her hand, but it would not budge. There was magic at work here, magic that worked through the water her hand had touched.

  For a moment, Milla considered cutting off her hand. But that would reduce her chances of surviving long enough to return to the Ruin Ship and deliver the Sunstone. It might have to be done, but she should try everything else first.

  Milla looked up, but Odris had come no closer. Either the Storm Shepherd was biding her time before coming to help, or she was sulking over Milla's behavior toward her.

  "I am Milla." She didn't bother announcing her parentage. It would mean nothing to this strange water spirit. "What do you want of me?"

  "Ah, she speaks," said the Face, and the whole lake tilted up so it could look at her. "I want nothing, save a little conversation to pass the idle days. It is lonely here, and I am forbidden to slosh my way to more interesting parts."

  "I do not like talk," said Milla. "Let me go."

  The Face smiled, its watery lips curving back.

  "No, no," it said. "It is not as simple as that. I am bound here, and must play my part. You have come here, and must play yours."

  "What part?" asked Milla. "I am no singer, to imitate the voices of others."

  "You wear a Sunstone," said the Face. "And I see you have a Storm Shepherd. It is destined to be your new Spiritshadow, I would guess, and you a Chosen who has recently bound it. Congratulations."

  "I am not a Chosen," Milla said, but her words were smothered by a crash of thunder from overhead, as lightning flashed down into the water.

  "You are aided by an angry Storm Shepherd," said the Face, smiling again. "But lightning can do nothing to a lake. Though it could do much to a Chosen." A trickle of water shot out from where the face's chin would be and circled around Milla's foot.

  Milla tried to lift her foot, but the water was like glue. She could only get her heel a few finger-widths off the ground before the water sucked it back down.

  The Icecarl considered cutting at the water, but that was almost certain not to work and would only make her look foolish. Once again she regretted not knowing how to use her Sunstone. A proper blast from that could boil the lake like Selski blubber in a melting pot. She didn't think the Face would enjoy being turned into steam.

  But she didn't know how to blast it. And she couldn't fight it. It was a very strange feeling. There was nothing on the Dark World she couldn't at least try to fight.

  "What do you want?" she asked again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "game," said the Face. "We will play a riddle game. If you can answer three riddles, I will let you go. I will even give you a gift. For each riddle you cannot answer, you will stay with me for a hundred days, and we will talk. As I said, it is lonely here. Too many travelers know of my fondness for conversation."

  Riddling was popular among Icecarls, but Milla had never been good at it, or particularly interested. Riddling was Crone-work, really, or for singers and Sword-Thanes.

  "Don't I get to ask you three riddles?" she asked. She could not possibly let herself be trapped here for even one day, let alone a hundred.

  "No," replied the Face. It pouted its great watery lips. "It is my game, not yours."

  "Can I ask Odris - the Storm Shepherd to answer with me?" asked Milla.

  "For one riddle," said the Face, after a moment's thought. "Are you ready?"

  Milla nodded.

  "Here is ridd
le the first," said the Face.

  "A maiden's head so deathly still Cold and quiet, yet not ill

  Her long tresses hang toward the sky Hair that burns when it is dry Food to man and creature's lair Name both her and her hair."

  Milla listened without expression, committing the words to memory. Odris drifted down toward her. "I know," the Storm Shepherd said eagerly.

  "It's -"

  "Quiet," ordered Milla. She didn't want to waste the Storm Shepherd's help so early. If the Face asked her a riddle that depended on some knowledge of Aenir, she would have to rely on Odris, much as she hated to do so.

  "But I know!" exclaimed Odris. "Why are you so difficult? I wish I'd picked the other one."

  Milla ignored her. She was going over all the riddles she knew, in case they inspired her. The answers to most of the Icecarls' riddles could be found in their everyday lives. That might be the case here. But what would the everyday life of this strange Face in the water be like? There was nothing here except the lake and whatever was in it…

  In it. That was the clue. Milla laughed as she looked into the water. It had been staring her in the face all the time.

  "She is a rock," said the Icecarl. "Her hair is the seaweed that grows from the rock."

  "Too easy, too easy," groaned the Face. "I must find something more difficult. A tricky riddle for a smart Chosen, yes?"

  "No," said Milla. "I am not -"

  Once again thunder smothered her words, but the lightning struck the earth on the far side of the lake. Whatever Odris was playing at, she was being careful. Milla frowned as she also recognized that she now knew much more about lightning than she ever had before. Like the fact that if a bolt hit water near her, its force could travel through the water and hurt her. No one had told Milla about this. She just knew it.

  It had to be a result of her shadow being absorbed by the Storm Shepherd.

  "I have it!" said the Face. "This is riddle the second."

  "A traveler begins a journey. For the first week, he is carried south. For the second week, he carries others. In the third week, he flies up into the sky. In the fourth week, he falls back down. Who is the traveler?"

  "That's it?" asked Odris incredulously. "That's the best you can do?"

  "Quiet," ordered Milla again. She was annoyed that the Storm Shepherd seemed to know the answer already. Surely she could do better than a cloud-woman.

  "This is a very hard riddle for a Chosen," chuckled the Face. "You'll never get this. We shall talk and talk and talk -"

  "The traveler is an iceberg to begin with," interrupted Milla. "Then it is free-flowing water. Then it is water-cloud, as from a kettle or where the hot metal boils under the Ice. Then it is rain, or snow."

  "That's not it!" groaned Odris.

  "Yes it is," said the Face angrily. "You are no Chosen! No Chosen knows anything of icebergs.

  What are you?"

  "I am an Icecarl," said Milla. "I am Milla of the

  Far Raiders. Daughter of Ylse, daughter of Emor, daughter of Rohen, daughter of Clyo, in the line of Danir since the Ruin of the Ship."

  "Danir?" said the Face, its mouth and forehead twisted in rage. "Danir? You are of Danir's get!"

  The whole Face reared up out of the water. Long teeth grew where none had been before, and a great tongue came lashing out to grip Milla.

  But before it could grab hold, the Face suddenly froze. Ice crystals formed in a great ring around it and started to spread inward in thousands of tiny branching lines.

  The Face screamed and groaned, and settled back into the lake bed. The ice retreated, and was soon gone.

  Milla stood, still trapped, her heart hammering. She had been helpless, certain that she would be eaten - or perhaps drowned - by the Face. Then the ice had come. But from where?

  "The riddle game binds you as much as Milla and must be played out to the end," said Odris to the Face. "But tell me. Who was Danir that you hate her so?"

  "I will ask my third riddle," said the Face sullenly, ignoring Odris's question.

  "Danir is the ancestor of my line," Milla answered.

  "I, too, am curious why she should have an enemy from another world, from a time so long ago."

  "This is riddle the third," muttered the Face, ignoring them.

  "There was a being proud and free, who through no fault of its own was caught up in a war between the rulers of two worlds. The war had gone on for many, many years, and there was much hate between the two sides. Finally the war ended in a great working of magic. An arcane barrier was raised on one world, to keep light - and the enemy - without. On the other world, a spell caused most of the inhabitants to forget their powers and much of their past. Bereft of both memory and magic, these once proud beings were easily bound, each to its own allotted cell. Only a descendant of the original binder could free them, either by moving their binding from the place to their person, or simply loosing their chains.

  I am such a prisoner, and I was bound here by Danir, who you claim as your far ancestress. Will you free me?"

  "That's not a riddle," said Odris indignantly. "That's a question. Or a statement. Or something."

  Milla frowned. It wasn't a riddle, but the Face seemed to sincerely believe that Milla could free it.

  "I don't understand," she said. "Danir is the far ancestor of my clan, but she was an Icecarl. Icecarls have never come to this world, to Aenir. We live on the Ice, in the Dark World."

  "I don't care what your people call you now," said the Face. "And I can't remember what you called yourselves then. All I know is that soon after the creation of the Veil and the Forgetting, I was bound here by a sorceress called Danir."

  Milla shook her head. This was a matter for Crones to ponder over, not for a warrior. She longed for the clean Ice and an enemy that she could fight and kill. Not these games of words and magic.

  "Even if the Danir who bound you was the same as my far ancestor, I do not have the knowledge to free you," Milla said. "I do not count this answer as the third in the game. You must ask a proper riddle."

  "No, no," sobbed the Face, tears of darker water streaming down its cheeks. "You must free me. So many Chosen have come over the centuries, but none could free me, for none were of Danir's line. I would serve as your Spiritshadow"

  "She's already got me!" interrupted Odris. "What would she need a great lump of wet for?"

  "Please," begged the Face. "I have sat here too long. Set me free!"

  "I do not know how," whispered Milla. She felt the Face's desire for freedom. The worst punishment an Icecarl could imagine would be to be penned up and unable to move. If the Icecarls could not follow the Selski migration, they would die.

  "I do," said Odris. "Do you want me to tell you how?"

  CHAPTER TEN

  After a few hours of steady walking, Tal had left the grasslands behind. Possibly they had been moving the other way as well, all the time. In Aenir it was hard to be sure.

  The grass ended in a completely straight border that stretched as far as Tal could see to the north and south. On the western side it was grass, on the eastern, a strange desert of red sand and spiky blue crystals that grew up in columns, looking from a distance almost like trees.

  The major difference was that the crystals were very sharp, and they seemed to be carnivorous. At least, there were scraps of flesh and skin hanging off many of the "plants," and all of them were surrounded by rings of broken bones.

  Tal gave each crystal plant a wide berth. As far as he could tell, they couldn't move, but he didn't trust them. They might be like the trees of the forest where he'd arrived and would move when it suited them.

  As he walked farther into the desert, it got much hotter. The crystals shone more brightly, with a hypnotic glare. This was how they caught their prey, and Tal had to stop himself several times from walking into one of the plants. He wished for his old shadowguard. It would have shaded his head from the sun, and shielded his eyes.
But the shadowguard was gone, back to living its life as a growing Dattu.

  Then Tal remembered that he did have a companion that could shade him. He stopped and looked up. Adras had been trailing behind, quite high up. Now he was nowhere to be seen. But he wasn't too far away. Tal could feel his presence, a connection between them. He recognized it as being like the link he'd had with his shadowguard.

  "Adras!" Tal shouted. His voice was hoarse. He'd drunk from a small stream that morning, but had been wanting another drink for some hours. This desert was much hotter than it had any right to be.

  Adras did not answer his call.

  Tal called again, and listened. There was a faint boom up ahead, a rather pathetic thunderclap.

  Tal sighed and began to slog toward the sound, carefully winding his way between the crystal plants.

  A few hundred stretches farther on, he came to an oasis in the blue crystal desert a patch of more usual earth, with a small bubbling spring surrounded by a stand of tall, thin trees with greenypurple fronds.

  Adras was hovering above the spring, sucking up moisture. A thick column of vapor spun out of the spring and into his open mouth.

  Tal hurried down to get a drink. There might be something to eat, too, for the trees had fruit between the fronds.

  There was also fruit on the ground. Tal had a drink, then picked up a piece of fruit and examined it. It had a hard skin, but was soft and pulpy inside. He had seen such fruit before, though only in baskets brought to the Chosen Enclave. His mother had called it cakefruit, cut it into slices, and cooked it in the oven.

  Tal couldn't do that here, but he did roast the fruit with a beam of hot white light from his Sunstone, until the pulp browned. Eating it brought back memories of better times, when his family was all together and the worst thing Tal had to worry about was going back to a new term at the Lectorium.

  Tal spat out the last mouthful of cakefruit. He didn't want to remember any more. It was too dispiriting to think about his family and their troubles. He had to focus on the immediate objective.