CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Maeve
SOUND CAME BACK FIRST. A horrible, dry slithering rustling invaded her ears. Like dead leaves on asphalt. The sound of scuttling things. Things too fast to outrun.
She blinked, but it made no difference. Inky black greeted her. If it were not for the kiss of the slight breeze on her eyes, she wouldn’t have been able to tell they remained open.
Maeve shifted and her hair slithered forward, free of its braid and swinging downward. Cold rock rested beneath her, and she realized her hands were bound in front of her, her body half-lying on them. Careful, unsure of her position, she moved enough to slide her hands over the rock she lay on. A ledge about twelve inches from her shoulder showed itself to her grasping fingers. She explored down it but couldn’t find the bottom. Was it just a step? Or a deep chasm?
Something about the space seemed large. Perhaps it was the sound, and the way the slithering echoed and gradually faded. Perhaps it was the faint breeze on her skin. She could feel that she still wore the shorts and thin shirt she had to bed the night before, the rock cold and pebbling her legs where it pressed into her.
Maeve shivered and pushed herself up to a sitting position, hands still tied before her. Her legs were free, but she was afraid to stand. Afraid she might brain herself on a low-hanging ceiling or lose her balance and go tumbling down into a dark well that went on forever.
The hissing, scuttling sound grew louder, and something brushed past her shoulder. Only the most feather-light of touches, but it made her erupt in goose flesh. The scent of smoke was everywhere. Not the clean wood smoke scent Rodan carried, but thick and oily like a tanker fire. Choking and chemical. Beneath, somehow, was the sweet scent of decay.
She opened her mouth to say something, to ask, Who are you? What do you want? But as soon as her lips parted, something pressed against them, something cold and hard as steel.
Things grasped her. Wrapped around her thighs and her stomach, squeezed, and released like the coils of some great python. Something curled around her neck, and she clawed at it, but her fingers moved through the stuff like putty.
“Enough,” a voice hissed out of the void. “Be still.”
Maeve wanted to rail and cry out, but something held her body fast, and pressure remained at her lips. She feared if she moved them, she would cut herself, afraid a blade was pressed against her.
Sudden and light, there was a prick, and she tasted blood. Something wet and cold lapped it up off her lips, and the pressure disappeared. She gasped and twisted, coming partway unstuck from the coils of the shadow serpent.
“What—” she started.
“Quiet,” the voice hissed out again, and the coils tightened, constricting her breathing.
The silence was total. The slithering sound ceased, and even that slight breeze seemed to die down, leaving her with nothing but the cold rock beneath her, the coils around her, and the bindings holding her wrists together.
She worked at those bonds, twisting her wrists in an attempt to free herself. It only made the bonds tighten, and so she stopped, her fingers tingling.
Maeve breathed, and waited.
Was this it? This darkness? She could not see. Could not think.
She wanted Rodan.
Something swelled up inside of her. She closed her eyes tight and touched the stone beneath her legs. Limestone, most likely. Water. Water dripped in the silence. Things grew and living down here. Eyeless creatures and insects. Molds and mosses and fungi.
Little sparks of life.
Her fingers sought and found some slick mold growing on the rock and began to scrape at it with her fingernails.
“Little one,” the voice said, the tone soothing and low, yet still menacing. It was pitched in such a way as to make her think of some great spider, looking at her as food. “We thought you might be different from the others, and we were right. You taste of power.”
Her motions stilled, the thing holding her torso unwrapped itself, and she was alone, breathing hard into the darkness.
“We smelled it, and now we taste it,” the thing continued. “You will join us.”
The ‘s’ in us was drawn out, and she shuddered again, scraping more at the rock and the mold that slicked her fingertips. She needed this. She needed more ingredients, though. More life.
“You will become us,” the creature continued.
She couldn’t stay silent any longer. “I will not,” she said, her voice shaky and small in the vast empty.
Laughter.
This time from all sides, not just in front of her. Laughter like nails, like razors, like glass. Cutting and awful.
“You will. If not now, soon. We are patient. We will wait.”
“Who are you? Who is ‘we’?”
“We are inevitable. We are the always. We are your future. We are the Nyx.”
Chills ran down her spine at the words. “Where did you come from?”
“You invaded us first. We are the reply.”
Something crawled over her shoulder and Maeve grasped at it. A bug of some kind, the exoskeleton thin and easily cracked. She crushed it between her fingers, mixing with the moss. Something seemed to build in the air, and she knew she was on the right track. What next?
“Only a few of us now, there will be more. Others. We will take everything.”
“Why?” Maeve huffed, grasping around. She reached above her, finding nothing but dead air.
“We are all. We are inevitable,” the thing repeated. “We will live forever.”
“You’re taking children. Why children? Why babies?”
“They are here,” the voice said with a laugh. “Do you wish to see?”
Before she answered, a faint glow erupted, dim yet so bright after the impenetrable darkness she squinted against it. As her eyes adjusted, she took in the limestone floor of the cavern, and some of the far wall, but what was directly below the glow drew her eye. A basket with two babies inside of it. One looked as though half its body had become a great bruise, and the other—the other was changed.
That’s when she began to see them.
Hundreds of them.
Crouched and hanging and lounging across the cavern, their bodies a twisted mashup of nightmare and human form. Some of them might have been centaurs before, or perhaps would have been in later years, but they were all hard edges and glistening, blackened teeth. Teeth like razor blades.
“What are you?” Maeve whispered.
“Nyx,” the voice whispered back, closer now. But as she turned her head the light dimmed, and whatever form the voice took was swallowed up in the shadows. “We are Nyx.”
“What are you doing with the children?” she asked again.
“They become us, they are us,” the Nyx breathed. It grew closer to her now, almost within touching distance. “It is inevitable.”
Maeve thought hard, her heart racing. The slime and carcass of the cockroach slick between her fingers, the sense of something important flooded through her. Something she needed to do.
She wiped at her lips, tasting the foul concoction but also mixing her blood from the small cut in with her ingredients. Something seemed to swell inside of her like an expanding balloon, and the scuttling, hissing sound grew worse.
“What are you doing?” the Nyx hissed at her.
She smeared the stuff on her chest and willed the makeshift potion to come alive, tapping into a part of herself that lay dormant for so long, cut off from this world and its magics. Something sputtered and went out, then sputtered again, like an engine long dead trying to turn over. She squeezed her eyes shut as something touched at her neck and put more force into her efforts.
Light erupted from her.
Blinded even with her eyes closed, the piercing shriek slamming into her ears made her open her eyelids. She saw the shadow creatures retreating, recoiling, swarming over each other in their haste to get away. The two babies in the basket were gone, snatched away by the fleeing Nyx. The thing tha
t had been talking to her—
It was as large as the ceiling, hanging down in ropes and coils like the fronds of a willow tree. A tree that might grow in hell.
It shriveled and shrank back as she stared, spots dancing before her eyes as the light beat back the darkness. It was the source of the screaming, the slick dark flesh of its coils bubbling and popping, spewing black ichor over the cavern. Its mouth was a massive thing full of rows upon rows of teeth like a shark, and its eyes rolled toward Maeve, glinting with a malevolent hatred that shook her to the core.
So struck by the sight was she that for a moment she forgot she needed to move. Needed to run. She felt the potion waning already, the magic within it beginning to coil up and dissipate.
She stood now that she was aware the cavern stretched far above her head and looked around. The Nyx fled into cracks and crevices in front of where she had knelt, but behind her a path led up through the rocks. No Nyx stood in the pathway, and she scurried for it, holding her tied hands before her to help balance as she ran.
The creature screamed again, and she flinched as she was spattered in black blood and ooze. The light—burning white hot—made the little creatures of the cave scurry away, and as she ran the light followed before and behind her, dimming now but still bright enough to spread a good ten feet out in either direction.
She hauled herself up the crumbling rock ramp, hoping and praying this was the way out, that she wasn’t just flinging herself deeper into the cave system. The light wouldn’t last long, and when it went out, she did not want to be surrounded by darkness and those things.
Her breath left her in hard pants and her legs burned as she climbed and sprinted up, and up, and up. The ceiling dipped in places and she had to scramble through on her hands and knees, praying the path wouldn’t narrow down so she became stuck. Rocks punctured her exposed knees and scraped against her palms, drawing blood. It stung and burned but she pressed on, ignoring the pains.
She heard the Nyx in pursuit of her now, the light fading to only about five feet in any direction. They kept their distance, hissing and slithering, but she sensed their presence. Rip, tear, kill, it said, and she ran. She ran for her life.
The path in front of her began to brighten, and her heart leaped in expectation of the sunlight of Rizor and Tegal. Then—
“Rodan!” she gasped, staggering to a halt.
He stood there, all tall, lean grace and a face full of thunder, a sword raised. Pike stood behind him, similarly armed and armored. An orb of light suspended above their heads, and when she looked at it she noted the twisting flame held in a tight ball, the bluish-white light like from a gas lantern.
Rodan’s sword dipped down, and he stepped toward her, almost staggering, the ball of light following his movements. “Maeve,” he said, and pulled her to him, crushing her against him in a fierce half-hug, his hand buried in the waves of her hair. She closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled the scent of him, the tightness in her chest easing.
She pulled back and glanced behind her. She felt the Nyx, their intent and malevolence. “We have to go. We need to hurry. Do you know the way back?”
“You’re glowing,” Pike said, something like awe lacing his words. “By the gods, she’s glowing.”
Maeve touched her chest, and remembered her bonds and held her hands out to Rodan. “Could you, please?”
Without a word, he slipped the edge of the sword between her wrists and the ropes that held her parted and fell to the cavern floor. His black and green eyes vibrated with an intensity she couldn’t name, and she reached out to grasp his free hand.
“I’m okay,” she said, her voice steady. “We have to go. Please.”
“We must stop them,” Rodan said, his voice quiet as he glanced behind her.
“We can’t do anything unprepared,” she insisted. “We have to go. Go!” She gave him a slight push, and waved Pike back. “I don’t know the way. Hurry!”
Rodan looked reluctant, but he took up the rear-guard position and Pike led them back the way they came, spurred on by Maeve’s insistence. The slithering, scuttling, chattering of the Nyx grew behind them as they climbed. Maeve was reminded of the sound of a paper wasp nest she had come across while hiking near her home one day. The sound of it screamed Danger! Leave!
She quickened her pace.
Maeve did not keep track of the minutes, of how long they went on or how far she climbed from that first great chamber. Her thighs and calves burned, blood dribbling from the cuts she received crawling on her hands and knees. The sound of the Nyx faded as the light from the twin suns seeped into the cave. She almost sobbed to see it, so thankful for leaving the darkness behind.
They emerged, Pike and Maeve panting but Rodan still cool and collected, into the sunlight. The ball of fire fizzled out when Rodan reached up and grazed it with the finger of one gloved hand.
Maeve bent down, hands on her thighs, and tried to slow the racing of her heart.
Rodan’s hand came to rest on her back. “Are you alright?”
She nodded, looking up at him through a curtain of hair. “I’m fine. I saw—I saw some children they’ve taken. They’re changing them—” She stopped, trying to think of the words to describe the cavern.
“How many are there?” Pike asked, coming to stand nearby.
Maeve straightened, and Rodan’s hand fell to her lower back, warmth radiating from him. “I don’t know,” she said. “Dozens, maybe hundreds. I heard them more than saw them. The leader, it was—it was enormous. I think I hurt it, but I don’t think I managed to kill it.” She touched at her shoulder, where some black blood dried to a tacky consistency. “When the light hit it, it grew big blisters along its skin.”
“Maeve,” Rodan said, a strain to his voice. “What did they do to you?”
She shook her head, looking over at him. He wore black-scaled armor, with a yellow rose sigil over his heart. The metal moved and glinted dull in the suns’ light. She reached out and traced a hand over it, and he covered her hand with his own, squeezing her fingers. She stared at where they clasped and said, “I don’t know. I was walking into the grass, and then there was nothing but darkness. I woke up in it. They said something about my blood, that I was powerful. They wanted me to be them.” She shivered despite the heat of the day and pulled her hand away from his. “Can we get away from here? Please?”
They nodded, and the two of them led her down from the cliff to a flat space where two horses stood tethered to a tree. Ender and a gray Lusitano awaited them, and before Maeve asked after her own horse Rodan lifted her on his, swinging up into the saddle behind her.
One of his arms came to wrap around her waist, the other holding the reins. Maeve was sure Ender gave her the stink eye, as though he debated how to dump her off while retaining his master.
They began to ride down the gentle sloping hill toward the city of Karst, and she leaned back against Rodan.
Pike rode up beside them, bouncing a little in the saddle. “You were glowing,” he said, nodding to her chest where the brownish stain of her makeshift potion was smeared. “What did you do?”
“Called to life,” she said, the words leaving her before she thought them over. She frowned. “I made a potion, of sorts. The Nyx—”
“The Nyx?” Pike interrupted, voice sharp. “That’s what they’re called?”
Maeve nodded. “They didn’t say where they came from, but they said something about—something about them being the reply. That we had started this.”
Rodan’s arm squeezed around her, and his voice vibrated through her abdomen as he spoke. “Those creatures, they’re from Attica.”
“Attica?” Maeve frowned, “I know I’ve heard of it before, but—”
“I forbade anyone to go there, because I knew what lived in the shadows of that ancient forest. But that arrogant fool, Sebastian, has been sending colonizers and miners to the continent and bringing back all manner of objects. Gold. Jewels. Trees. People are dying there, he’s se
nding more, and now—” Maeve felt the trembling rage at her back, and she craned her neck around to look at him. His eyes were shadowed and his jaw clenched, but he relaxed by degrees as she looked at him. “Now, the creatures are here. In the Realms, and I don’t know if I can stop them.”
Maeve’s heart gave a little stop-start. “What do you mean, you don’t know if you can stop them? You faced off against a chimera. We know they’re afraid of the light, we can just—”
Rodan shook his head. “I don’t want you anywhere near this, Maeve.” His arm tightened around her once more. “If you face off against these creatures, you will die.”
“I just did face off against them,” she argued, and looked around. They were still some distance from Karst. She wanted to be off the horse. “I did it alone. When we’re together we can do so much more.”
Pike nodded, glancing between the two of them. “She’s right, Rodan. We’re all in this fight, for better or worse.”
“We’ve got to stop them,” she said. “We know light hurts them. We should draw them out.” She looked up at Rizor and Tegal. “How much sunlight do we have left?”
“Most of the day,” Pike said. “Can you make more of the potion?”
She nodded. “I think so. I think I can make it better, if I have access to more—more life.” The thought brought on a memory best left to dust, and she shook herself. “I can make it while you two help garrison the town. I have the feeling the Nyx will be coming in force tonight. They weren’t happy when I blasted them.”
Rodan’s hand splayed across her stomach. “We thought we’d lost you,” he murmured, quiet enough she wasn’t sure Pike could hear. “We looked through so many caves, and there was nothing.”
Maeve twisted around to look at him again and his green eye swirled into midnight blue and heather gray. “How long was I gone?”
“Two days,” Pike answered.
In response, Maeve’s stomach gave a lurch. “I—I didn’t realize. One moment I was in the grass, and the next I woke up in the cavern. Soon after I ran into you two.” The thought of being at those creatures’ mercies for two whole days made her stomach twist. “How could it have been two days?”
Catching Pathways Page 23