Aenir

by Garth Nix

  Tal kept screaming after Adras saved him, but this time it was because his arms had been almost pulled out of their sockets.

  After a moment he recovered and stopped his panicked howling. They were still quite high up, and there was no sign of movement in the sand below.

  "Fly east!" Tal croaked. He could stand the pain in his shoulders a bit longer. "Fly as far as you can."

  "Sure," said Adras. He craned his head down to look at his companion. "I guess Hazror wasn't so bad after all. He gave you one… two… Sunstones. And what's that other thing?"

  "I think it's a key," said Tal. He was shivering now, in delayed shock. "And Hazror didn't give it to me, or the Sunstones. That's why we have to fly as far as we can."

  "Why?" asked Adras. Then, in a slightly different tone, he added, "Oh. I see. Hazror will want them back."

  Then later still, the Storm Shepherd gingerly asked, "How bad and terrible is he, by the way?"

  "Very. Both," said Tal. Worse than he'd imagined, because he was not an Aeniran creature.

  How could a Chosen become like Hazror? Why did he live like he did, preying on innocent young Chosen?

  Then a much nastier thought came to Tal's mind.

  How did the young Chosen find Hazror? Why would they go there in the first place? It wasn't as if his lair was easy to locate, or in any well-known place for finding and binding Spiritshadows.

  Had they all been sent by the Codex, like he was? Sacrificed to try and get the bone whistle that now hung around his own neck?

  Or had someone else sent them to their deaths?

  Lenan had been a very smart boy, Tal recalled. He'd graduated first from the Lectorium last year. Maybe he had discovered some of the things that Tal had been finding out.

  Tal had a lot of questions. He hoped he'd find the Codex soon and that it could answer some of them. Even if he was afraid of the answers.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  "I will help Tal with the Codex," coughed Milla. The smoke had thickened so fast that she was already choking, and she couldn't see Odris at all. Even so, Milla tried to speak slowly and with pride. She was not begging to be saved from the fire.

  "Excellent!" said Zicka. "Catch!"

  He drew an arrow from his quiver, tied an almost invisible cord of spider silk to it, and with one elegant arch of his arm and back, fired it close to Milla's hand. She caught the arrow easily. Out in the Dark World, she had caught bigger arrows that were actually aimed at her. It was a rare skill and another mark of her prowess as a warrior.

  "You are connected to the outside now," said Zicka. "Grab hold of Odris and walk slowly outside. Do not break the cord!"

  He started stepping backward, uncoiling more spider silk as he did.

  Milla reached behind her and grabbed something soft and squishy that she hoped was Odris. The Storm Shepherd didn't feel like she usually did, but Milla's eyes were streaming so much from the smoke she couldn't see.

  Bending down low to find the clearest air, she stepped out.

  Smoke billowed out with air but she kept on walking, to make sure Odris was completely out as well.

  "Good!" cried Zicka. "Now we have to outrun the Nanuch before they wake up."

  "Which way?" asked Milla. She could only see out of one tear-swimming eye.

  "This way!" shouted Zicka, and he was off. Milla staggered after him, still dragging Odris. The Storm Shepherd was silent.

  The amount of smoke that billowed out covered their escape, so that none of the Nanuch noticed they were gone. Even so, Zicka led them at a run through the gray wood for a long time. Milla was gasping from the exertion when the wood suddenly came to an end, the trees stopping all along a perfectly straight line.

  Beyond the wood lay an ordered expanse of trimmed hedges and lawns, interspersed with flower beds alive with color.

  Zicka stopped just past the trees.

  "We'll rest here," said the Kurshken. "Then we can follow the edge of the forest north. It is best not to go into the Garden."

  "Why?" asked Milla. It took an effort to find the breath to speak.

  "I don't know," replied Zicka. "Only that anyone who goes past the first row of hedges does not return."

  Milla stared out over the perfectly ordered garden. It stretched as far as she could see and looked entirely harmless. There were insects of some kind flying around the flowers, and she could see birds in the distance. Small ones that darted in and out of the hedges.

  "Are you sure about this?" asked Odris. "I can see a pool not too far in, and I do need water."

  "I only know that it is not safe. The Codex may know the secret of it," said Zicka. "Or the Hollow Oracle, or the Old Khamsoul. Since we cannot ask any of them, I suggest we simply avoid the place."

  "But I really do need a drink," wailed Odris. "Can't I just fly over there a little bit?"

  "No!" ordered Milla. Zicka had proved to be truthful about the dangers of the Dawn House. Milla had to presume the Kurshken was also right about the Garden. "I need a drink, too, but it isn't worth risking our lives."

  "I bet it's just walking creatures that have to worry," said Odris petulantly. "Look at those birds. They're perfectly all right."

  "They are bait," said Zicka, his voice ominous. The lizard started walking along the line of trees, not bothering to check if the others were following.

  Milla followed immediately. Odris hesitated, taking one last look at the pool of water just beyond the first hedges. It did look rather too perfect, she realized with a shiver, and followed Milla.

  They walked north for a long time. The sun was almost directly above them when they came to a broad river more than two hundred stretches wide that marked the northern border of the gray forest and the Garden. Beyond the river lay a stony wasteland of sinkholes and terraced hills of stone.

  "It is safe to drink here," said Zicka. "I also have food aboard my ship. It is not much for someone your size, Milla -"

  "Any food is welcome," interrupted Milla. "But where is your ship?"

  Zicka pointed at the river's edge. For a moment Milla couldn't work out what the lizard was pointing at. Then she realized he must mean the partially submerged log that was lying in the shallows.

  "That is a ship?" asked Odris. She didn't need to add that it looked like a piece of debris thrown up by the river.

  "Come," said Zicka proudly. "I will show you. She is called `Roquollollollahahinanahbek' in our own tongue, which is to say, 'The Fire of Many Suns on First Blue of Deep Water,' in the shared speech. She is an heirloom of our people, a gift from long ago."

  "It's a log," whispered Odris to Milla. "A piece of a tree. The Kurshken's mad."

  "Quiet!" ordered Milla.

  The lizard jumped down to the log, and ran along its length. Milla stopped at the shore. One end of the log was buried under mud and earth. There was no chance that this log could be pushed out into the river to make even a raft.

  Then Zicka bent down and put his head underwater. Bubbles came up and Milla heard a burbling noise.

  The Kurshken was talking underwater.

  For a moment Milla was in agreement with Odris. The lizard was mad.

  The moment passed quickly. For as Zicka pulled his head out of the water, there was a disturbance in the middle of the river. Ripples suddenly spread where the water had been calm.

  A mast shot up out of the water, a slender pole that was quickly followed by a carved bow and stern and then an entire ship. Water gushed off and out of it as it rose and the bow turned to the shore where Zicka was waiting.

  Milla stared. The ship, apart from its lack of runners, was an exact replica of a small Icecarl iceship, of the kind called an Orskir. It was a three- or four-person vessel that a Sword-Thane might have, or a Shield Maiden messenger. It even had similar carvings on its bow and stern, whorls and curves that mimicked cloud and wind.

  Its hull was not bone, or even wood, as might be expected on this world. It was metal, the
same deep golden metal that the Ruin Ship was made from. But it was also set with many Sunstones, hundreds and hundreds of them that glittered in the sunlight.

  Milla found herself kneeling on the log. She knew this ship from the tales told by the Crones when the whole clan was huddled in the hold, while the worst of the winter storms howled about the many-times-anchored vessel.

  This was Asteyr's ship. Asteyr, the mother of Danir and Susir and Grettir, who in turn were the foremothers of all the clans. But in the stories the Orskir of Asteyr traveled on ice. What was it doing here in Aenir, on a river, in the possession of a lizard?

  "Asteyr's ship," croaked Milla. "How… how did your people come by this?"

  "Yes, yes," replied Zicka, his purple tongue flickering. "It was Asteyr's ship, in the faraway times. We did her a service, but the ship was given to us later, from the hands of her daughter Danir. That is why we agreed to the Codex's request to help a daughter of Danir."

  "What service?" asked Milla, still staring in awe at the ship. "What did you do?"

  "I cannot say, even to a daughter of Danir," said Zicka. "It is a secret of our folk. I cannot speak of it without the permission of the Kurshken Allthing."

  The fabled ship had drifted up to the log. Zicka leaped up and gripped the gunwale, then vaulted over. Milla climbed up reverently and stood upon the deck.

  The ship was completely dry and there were no pools of water, nothing to show that it had been submerged. Milla stood near the bow, strangely afraid to go farther, to walk where Asteyr and Danir had once walked. She felt like she should clean her boots, or change her clothes, or something.

  Odris drifted across above her, and settled around the mast, rather like a sail. There was no sail, nor boom, nor any of the rigging that Milla would have expected of an iceship. There was also no wheel or steering oar. Nevertheless, the ship swung out into the river and began to move.

  "Where do we go?" asked Milla. But Zicka had moved to the stern and didn't hear her. Reluctantly, Milla tiptoed toward him, keeping close to the rail.

  "Where do we go?" she repeated.

  "Four Rivers Meet," said Zicka. "Close by Cold Stone Mountain. The Chosen Tal should be there, too, all being well."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Tal's shoulder sockets hurt so much he wanted to land long before Adras got tired of carrying him. By then they were already well beyond the sand dunes of Hazror's realm. The country below them was now a jungle, a canopy of green, broken here and there by taller trees thrusting out.

  Under the starlight, the canopy looked black rather than green. It reminded Tal of the Veil and the Seven Towers, which was comforting. But it made it difficult to land. Tal kept thinking he could see a clearing, but it was always a trick of the light, just a dip in the canopy.

  Tal thought his arms were actually going to fall off when he finally saw a large expanse that had to be a clearing.

  Adras landed him gently, but Tal still fell over. All his muscles hurt, not just his shoulders. Even so, he forced himself up out of the wet leaf-litter. There was no time to rest. Now that he had the whistle he felt closer to the Codex somehow. But that only increased his anxiety. What if he found the Codex, and found out who was keeping Gref captive, but it was too late?

  Tal got up and looked around, raising light from his Sunstone.

  He was in a clearing, but the leaf-litter was still knee-deep. There were shrubs and ferns almost as tall as he was, but none of the enormous, vine-circled trees that filled the jungle proper.

  "I like it here," boomed Adras suddenly, making Tal jump. "Lots of moisture in the air. Ahhh!"

  Tal didn't like it so much. There were lots of things moving in the darkness. He could hear squelching and crackling and slithering, though whenever he shined the beam of light from his Sunstone there was nothing to be seen.

  Even worse than that, he'd suddenly remembered the last game of Beastmaker he'd played, and one of the cards. The Jarghoul, the giant strangling snake of the Aeniran jungle.

  This was the Aeniran jungle. This was exactly where you could expect to find a thirty-stretch-long Jarghoul that would be thicker than he was tall.

  It could be a Jarghoul making those slithering noises over there!

  Tal spun around, intensifying the light from his Sunstone.

  Light reflected back from two enormous, pale yellow eyes. Eyes that bulged on stalks above slimy blue flesh that continued to glow even when Tal's shaking hand moved the light away.

  "Jarghoul!" Tal screamed, and he turned to run. He'd gone several steps when his panicked brain properly processed what he'd seen.

  It wasn't a Jarghoul. They weren't blue and they didn't glow in the dark.

  It was a Gorblag, a sort of slithering toad. Or at the worst, its close cousin, a Klorbag, which spat disgusting but harmless slimeballs.

  "A what?" asked Adras. "Do you want me to smack it?"

  "Ah, no," said Tal, after he took a deep breath. "It's… it's only a Gorblag. They're harmless."

  The glowing blue toad hadn't moved. It just sat there, its long-finned tail slithering from side to side. Then it slowly inflated the fleshy bags under its stomach and became twice as large.

  Tal got out of the direct line of fire in case it was a Klorbag preparing to spit.

  It didn't. Its eyes clouded and its mouth pursed in a way that no Gorblag's mouth had ever pursed before. Then its airbags started to deflate, and a whistle came out of its mouth.

  Tal had already realized it had been taken over by the Codex. Even so, he was surprised that the whistle was actually a reedy, high-pitched voice.

  "What is it?" he asked. "What do you want me to do?"

  "Tal. Aim one hand left of the blue star and fly. Milla at Four Rivers Meet by dawn. Follow Zicka to Cold Stone Mountain. Have a Storm Shepherd blow the Pipe. You and Milla fetch me from under the Mountain. No Aeniran can touch me. Go now!"

  "What?" asked Tal. "But Milla will kill me!"

  "No!" the Gorblag whistled. "Go! Four Rivers Meet. Zicka. Cold Stone Mountain. Blow Pipe. Fetch Codex from under Mountain."

  "Milla will kill me," protested Tal. "And how am I going to get under the mountain?"

  It was too late. The Codex had lost contact.

  The Gorblag's eyes cleared. It stopped pursing its lips and opened its mouth wide. An instant later a huge gob of sticky, foul-smelling slime whizzed past Tal's face.

  The Klorbag dived down into the leaf-litter and squirmed away before Tal or Adras could retaliate. Tal watched its dorsal fin snaking through the rotting vegetation, to make sure it wasn't going to turn for a parting shot.

  Then he held up his hands.

  "We've got to get going again," he said to Adras. "The Codex wants us to go to somewhere called Four Rivers Meet. And it has somehow got Milla to help."

  "Milla?" asked Adras eagerly. "The other one? With Odris?"

  "Yes," said Tal. "We have to aim a hand's width left of the blue star, so once we're up out of this jungle I guess I'll have to hang by one arm and try"

  He stopped talking, as it was obvious Adras wasn't listening. He had reared up and had his head cocked to one side, as if he were listening to something that Tal couldn't hear.

  "Find Odris, find Milla," the Storm Shepherd announced. "That's right?"

  "Yes." Tal sighed. "If you know where Odris is." "I know." Adras bent down and gripped Tal's forearms, not noticing the boy wince with pain. "The wind tells me."

  "Good," said Tal faintly. His shoulder sockets felt like they'd had molten metal poured inside them, and the pain was spreading through to his neck and head. But the Codex had said to go on, and so he must.

  As Adras rose up out of the jungle, Tal's thoughts turned to Milla. He hoped the Codex had told her she wasn't going to kill him.

  He also felt the slight twinge of guilt he'd had previously grow stronger inside him.

  Tal still thought he'd done the right thing. The only thing. But now he was won
dering if Milla could ever see it his way. Maybe making her swap her shadow for a Spiritshadow was like a Chosen not having a Spiritshadow.

  Maybe… maybe he'd turned her into a sort of Icecarl Underfolk.

  He'd really destroyed her future, he realized, when all he'd given up was his choice of Spiritshadow.

  She would want to kill him, Tal decided. But he couldn't let her, because right now saving Gref and his family was more important than anything else.

  No matter what it cost.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  It took Tal and Adras all night to fly to Four Rivers Meet. They had to make frequent stops for Tal to massage his arms and rotate his shoulders. Eventually Adras had to actually carry Tal, the Storm Shepherd's arms wrapped completely around the Chosen boy. It was somewhat humiliating, but Tal had long since given up caring about that. He was merely glad that it didn't hurt.

  They sighted Four Rivers Meet shortly after dawn. At least Tal presumed that's what it was. Certainly he could see four rivers flowing in from north, south, east, and west, to meet in a crazy four-way delta of black mud and thousands of channels that made no sense to Tal.

  How could four rivers all flow into the same patchwork of channels? The four deltas should end in a lake, but they didn't. At least one of the rivers should be flowing the other way. But none did.

  The rivers just kept on spreading and dividing, their many fingers stretching across a wide plain. A completely flat plain, Tal thought at first. But then as the sun rose higher he saw that there was something in the very middle of the delta.

  A mountain, surrounded on all sides by narrow streams and reedy islets.

  None of it made sense. The water from the four rivers had to go somewhere. But the mountain was sitting where a lake should be.

  Tal looked away and blinked and then looked back. But everything was still there. A huge mass of gray stone in the middle of a vast channel system that couldn't possibly work.

  That's Aenir,

  Tal told himself.