Layered in flannels, bearing lanterns and walking sticks, Ara and Nimhea set off on the path to Nava’s Ire.
Within a quarter of an hour it was dark. The lanterns provided a good amount of light, but their pace was glacial as they prodded the earth to ensure it wouldn’t sink under their weight. Clouds had moved in, blocking out the night sky and any hope of moonlight.
With the sun gone and stars hidden, it was impossible to know what direction they traveled. With each step, Ara’s doubts about their decision to be here after nightfall grew. When she stumbled and fell to one side of the path, the ground beneath her hands and chest squelched, sinking and sucking at her. She shrieked before Nimhea pulled her back onto solid ground.
Tymas had been right. They were fools to attempt this search in the dark.
“We should go back to the punt,” Ara said, breathless and defeated. “We’ll come back tomorrow at first light.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.” Nimhea sounded relieved, but when she turned around her breath caught.
“Ara.”
Ara peered around Nimhea into the lantern light that shone on the way they’d come.
The path was gone. Where a moment ago solid ground had offered passage, murky water now blocked the way.
There would be no going back.
27
The fens’ cruel mischief started only a few minutes after they’d realized there was no way to retrace their steps and put aside their journey until daylight. Ara and Nimhea continued forward, lanterns casting pools of light around them as they walked. The world around them was alive with sounds. Frogs croaked, fish splashed. The grasses murmured, and reeds stirred. These natural noises gave Ara slight reassurance, reminding her that as strange as the fens might be to her, they were behaving as they should.
But then the mists had risen from the cold waters, and the fens began to speak.
Ara heard it first. A voice piercing the dark. A voice that made her heart leap.
“Ara!” Teth called out. He was somewhere out there in the dark, but she couldn’t make out a light. “Ara, I can’t find you!”
Mist that curled around her ankles climbed up to her thighs. Her pulse slammed through her veins.
“Teth!” Ara turned in a circle, searching for any sign of him. “I’m here!”
“Ara!” The sound of his voice was so warm, so familiar, it wrapped around her. Lulling her into a sweet calm with a promise that all would be well if only she could reach him.
He can’t be far away. It will only take a moment to find him.
She took a step in the direction of his voice.
Nimhea’s hand clamped down on her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Teth’s here.” Ara pulled away from her, impatient. “I think he’s this way.”
She took another step, but Nimhea grabbed her arm, halting her progress.
“Look down,” Nimhea said through clenched teeth.
Ara shot an irritated glance at the princess then looked down. Her left foot had sunk into the bog, submerged to her ankle. She hadn’t even noticed. Strangely, the evident danger didn’t deter her, and she tried to take another step.
Nimhea held her back. “Stop!”
“But it’s Teth,” Ara shot back. “He’s trying to find us.”
“Ara, what are you talking about?” Nimhea searched her friend’s face. “Why are you talking about Teth?”
Ara seethed, desperate to continue her search. “Don’t you hear him?”
Even now she could hear Teth calling her name. He sounded close. If she could only walk a little ways into the fens he’d be able to see the light of her lantern.
Nimhea dragged Ara back onto the path. Sudden rage lashed Ara, and she struggled against Nimhea’s tight hold.
“Let me go!”
“Ara.” Nimhea’s grip tightened. “There is no voice. Teth is not out there.”
“But—” Ara shook her head. Teth’s calls grew louder. “He is. He’s shouting my name.”
“No.” Nimhea locked her in a fierce gaze. “He is not.”
Ara’s mind grew frenzied. She heard Teth. She knew he was near. Why couldn’t Nimhea hear him?
Nimhea’s eyes suddenly grew large, and her gaze swiveled away. “Lahvja?”
“What?” Ara frowned. She couldn’t fathom why Nimhea would suddenly bring up their friend when Teth was obviously so close.
Dropping Ara’s arm, Nimhea face twisted with grief and confusion. “I hear Lahvja, but . . . it can’t be.”
Nimhea’s voice throbbed with agony. “She’s hurt. She needs help.” Shaking her head, the princess closed her eyes. “No. It can’t be her. She’s not here.”
Ara watched Nimhea struggle with her emotions; all the while she could still hear Teth calling out for her . . . but she could not hear Lahvja at all.
Then she noticed a subtle glassiness in Nimhea’s eyes and remembered the way Teth’s voice ensnared her, dulling her mind to the present moment and the dangers of the fens. She wanted Teth—to know he was safe, to hold him—more than anything. Nimhea’s feelings for Lahvja were the same. They were both being lured to the same trap, but with differing bait.
“You’re right.” Knowing how hard it was to ignore Teth’s voice, Ara could only pray that her words got through to Nimhea. “It’s not real. You can’t hear Teth, and I can’t hear Lahvja.”
“We hear who we most want to.” Nimhea’s voice dropped to a whisper.
Teth’s voice abruptly fell silent. The startled expression on Nimhea’s face told Ara that Lahvja had stopped calling out, too.
Ara pulled Nimhea into an embrace. They leaned on each other, both of them shaking, understanding their shared torment. The unbearable longing for what they’d lost.
When both their breathing had steadied, Ara stepped back. “I think we’ve reached Nava’s Ire.”
“Then it’s Nava who’s doing this,” Nimhea said in horror. “She made those voices. We’re here to help her. Why would she try to hurt us?”
“We have to remember that this isn’t Nava’s true self,” Ara replied, struggling against her own fear. “Her Ire manifests the opposite of all the good she is. Think about what Ioth said about the children’s stories. It wasn’t Nava who kidnapped children to bring them here, it was Nava’s shadow. When I encountered Ofrit in the Tangle, he put me in terrible danger, and it made him laugh. I found no malice in it; he simply didn’t seem able to stop himself.”
“Bothia said this is the place of Nava’s suffering,” Nimhea murmured. Her expression was fearful, but there was compassion in her voice.
Ara nodded. “Here she exists in grief and rage.”
“And I have to heal her somehow,” Nimhea said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know how to do that.”
“I didn’t either,” Ara told her. “But it came to me when I faced the god. I hope it will be the same for you.”
Nimhea turned away from Ara, lifting her lantern over the path ahead. “Then we must find her.”
They continued forward, and no voices rose from the fens. Instead, Nava’s Ire fell silent. All the animal calls and insect noises vanished. Even the susurrations of the wind-tossed grasses ceased.
The mists continued to climb, wrapping around Ara’s thighs, then her waist and chest.
“Nimhea, I think we should—”
She’d been about to say they should walk hand in hand, but before she could finish her sentence the mist closed around her, and Nimhea was gone.
“Nimhea!”
The princess should have been only a few feet ahead, but she didn’t respond to Ara’s shout.
“Nimhea, wait!”
It was like the catacombs, but somehow more frightening. The tunnel collapse had terrified Ara, but it had been caused by natural forces. This mist that had suddenly
isolated her was the work of a goddess.
They needed to find Nava, but what could they do if Nava didn’t want to be found?
Cocooned by mist, Ara struggled to see her feet, much less the path.
She crouched and waited, listening for signs of Nimhea.
Listening for anything.
There was nothing. Nothing but mists and silence. And her thoughts.
Images seeped into her mind.
Teth broken and bleeding.
Lahvja weeping.
Joar and Huntress dead.
These visions turned like a water mill, one horrible picture giving way to another and another.
Ara couldn’t stop them. Despair latched on to her like a leech draining her hope. Grief followed close behind, nesting in her hollowed-out soul. She dropped her lantern, wrapped her arms around her body, and tucked her head into her knees.
So cold.
So alone.
Whispers joined the images.
They will never come back to you.
You lost them.
You killed them.
You failed.
Ara sobbed.
“No.” She choked out the word.
You failed.
“No.” Her tears ran hot against the cold air.
You failed.
“No!” Ara shot to her feet as her grief burst into flames and became rage.
Taking Ironbranch from its harness, she swung it wildly through the mist.
She wanted to hurt something.
She swung again.
She wanted to destroy something. Anything.
Ara lifted Ironbranch overhead and swung it like an ax, slamming the stave into the ground. The impact reverberated through her limbs, but didn’t bring the relief she sought.
She let out a scream of fury and defeat, then planted Ironbranch onto the ground and leaned into it.
I feel so helpless. I can’t bear it.
Another sob was wrenched from her throat.
I can’t bear it.
Ara fell to her knees. So much anger, so much sorrow. The raw emotions twisted her gut and made her bones ache. She’d never felt such anguish.
A murmur of reason pushed against the pain.
You haven’t lost them. You haven’t failed them. You simply don’t know what’s happened to them.
Ara clung to those thoughts hard, needing them to keep the poisoned whispers at bay. The force of them was so strong, they were more than she had ever imagined she could feel, like they would rip her apart.
Her grief is vast.
Bothia’s words joined the quiet voice of reason.
Ironbranch had fallen to Ara’s side. She took up the stave and used it to help her stand.
Not all of this grief is mine, Ara realized.
In this place where the goddess suffers, her sorrow and fury have amplified my own.
Taking Ironbranch in both hands, she lifted her chin.
I have hope.
Ara spoke in a clear, strong voice. “I am the Loresmith, and I will not bow or break. I am here because Nava wills it. The gods will it.”
The mists around her shuddered.
“Show me the path. Take me to Nava, the Sower, the Mother. She must be restored so that Saetlund may be reborn.”
The air began to shimmer and pulse. Silver ripples chased through it as it brightened. The growing light brought warmth with it, pushing back the chill that plagued her bones. Slowly, the mist parted like curtains, drawing back to reveal the way ahead. It was not the path she and Nimhea had been following. The earth beneath her feet was no longer springy and damp, but dry and hard-packed like the road in Sola. Bright light shone through the mists as Ara started on the path, but she didn’t think it was sunlight. She followed the path until the mists parted again, this time revealing a wide clearing.
Inside the clearing walked Nava.
The goddess wasn’t immense in size like the statue in the temple. To Ara she looked to be slightly taller than Nimhea, and where Nimhea had the lean hardness of an athlete, Nava’s body was all swells and curves. Her golden hair fell dull and lank over her shoulders. There was no gleam in her dark skin.
Nava walked in a circle. She walked and wept.
As Ara watched, the space around the goddess changed. One scene melting into the next.
The goddess wept as she walked through cornstalks gray with blight. The earth was like chalk, spinning up dust tornadoes. Nava seized an ear of corn, only to have it crumble to ash in her hand.
Cornstalks faded away, then the clearing was filled with bodies. Blood flowed from horrible wounds as the dying moaned and cried for help. The dead stared glassy-eyed into oblivion.
Nava carried the body of a child in her arms.
The child faded away, and the field and its carnage disappeared, replaced by a room full of crowded cells. Children whimpered and stretched pleading hands through the bars. Their faces were dirty and tear-streaked. Nava reached for the children, but darkness swallowed them.
One image following another. Endless sorrow. The absence of hope kindling rage.
The power of Nava’s emotions radiated out, and Ara flinched against their devastation.
Someone else stepped into the clearing.
“Nimhea.” Ara gasped as the princess strode toward the goddess without hesitation.
When Ara thought to join Nimhea, it was as if the princess sensed her presence and shot her a warning glance.
Whatever Nimhea intended to do, she would do it alone. Ara remained still.
Nava was walking through the aftermath of war, again carrying a dead child. Nimhea stepped directly in her path.
The goddess stopped and stared at the princess. Nimhea stood her ground.
The bodies disappeared, as did the child in Nava’s arms. Pressure began to build in the clearing like the thickening of air before a storm. The mists turned black, and flashes of electricity chased through them. The earth beneath Ara’s feet rumbled, and she had to brace herself with Ironbranch to keep herself upright.
Nimhea went down on one knee, but not because she’d fallen. Looking up into Nava’s face, the princess reached out and took the goddess’s hand. At the touch, the fiery roots of Nimhea’s hair spread through her tresses, banishing the dye, and the princess was once again crowned by flame.
Everything went still, as if the world held its breath.
The goddess stared at the princess. Nimhea held her gaze and began to speak.
Ara couldn’t hear what she was saying, but when Nimhea fell silent and pressed a kiss to Nava’s hand, the goddess reached out and gathered the princess into her arms, holding her like a priceless gift. Then Nava stood and helped Nimhea to her feet.
Holding her hand out to Ara, Nava said, “Come, Loresmith, we have need of you.”
Like Nimhea, the goddess had also transformed. Her lifeless hair was a golden cloud of tight curls. Her dark skin glowed with vitality, and her smile was like sunshine.
When Ara took her hand, feelings of happiness and contentment washed away her fears. She was filled with hope and gratitude. She didn’t notice when the mist and the clearing vanished, but she couldn’t miss the appearance of a place she’d come to think of as an odd sort of home.
“What is this place?” Nimhea whispered.
Ara was startled to see the princess still beside the goddess. “This is the Loresmith Forge.”
Nimhea gasped, taking in her surroundings with wonder. “Are those stars?”
“They are,” Nava answered. “But not the stars of your sky.”
The goddess turned to Ara. “There are things the princess and I must speak of. Here is what I require of you.”
A scroll appeared in her hand that she passed to Ara.
Taken aback, Ara could only
manage to nod. No other god had given her instructions. For Eni and Wuldr, the image of what she needed to create had manifested inside her.
A small garden appeared, abundant with fragrant flowers of all colors, at the center of which bubbled a fountain. Two throne-like chairs had been placed upon a dais nearby, ideal for viewing the fountain. Nava gestured for Nimhea to sit before taking the other chair for herself.
Leaving goddess and princess to converse, Ara went to the forge and opened the scroll. The moment she saw the design, she was grateful that Nava had provided it. The piece was like nothing Ara had crafted, and she guessed that the intricate details inscribed on its surface imbued it with powers she could only begin to grasp. The molds were complex. Timing was essential to correctly gauge the cooling of metal so it could be bent into curves. Pieces had to be joined. She would shape and hammer and etch and polish until it was complete.
In contrast to Tears of the Traitor and StormSong, Ara wouldn’t need godswood for this task. Instead, she gathered bricks of gold that were stacked near the worktable and began melting them down.
She needn’t have worried that Nimhea’s presence would be a distraction. As she began to work, everything fell away. It was only the fire and molten gold, the anvil and the hammer. Ara danced to the rhythms of her craft.
When she stopped to eat, Nava and Nimhea joined her, but when she slept they disappeared, and Ara couldn’t fathom where they had gone. After she began to work again, they once again sat in the garden.
The piece began to take shape. A perfect circle. Valleys and peaks.
She turned to the etching, using beeswax to create a ground. With painstaking care, she carved the symbols from Nava’s design into the wax. She knew instinctively that even the slightest error in replication would render the piece worthless. The only symbols she recognized were those of Saetlund’s five gods, but the others seemed to be writing in a language unknown to Ara. The writing covered the entire surface of the piece, and Ara had to take several breaks when the focus required of her made her head ache.
When at last the carving was complete, Ara used an acid bath to transfer the design onto the piece. With the etching complete, Ara set to polishing. It was the final step.
When the piece gleamed and Ara knew it was ready, a velvet pillow appeared on her worktable. Nestling the piece into red velvet, she smiled at the light the gold threw back at her. As she approached the garden, Nava rose and gestured for Nimhea to stand.
Cast in Secrets and Shadow Page 31
