by K. Ferrin
They stayed this way for a long time. Evelyn had caught her breath and had finally begun to wonder again where she was, who Fern might be, and where they were going, when Fern slapped at her softly and motioned her forward. They crept along in darkness, slowly this time, stopping every few steps to listen intently.
There were sounds all around them now. Voices bouncing through the broad stone tunnels and wide open caverns. Evelyn realized they were not in caves at all, but rather smooth tunnels lined with tightly fitted brick. They reminded her of the tunnels in Ruggers, or how they might have looked before they’d been ruined by time and the unstable muds of Brielle.
The tunnels echoed with clanging doors, jangling keys, and the slapping footsteps of people running, searching. She could hear them clearly, though their words were distorted by the echoing tunnels. Evelyn couldn’t tell what direction their voices came from, but they were very close. Too close.
But Fern knew the tunnels well. The voices slowly fell behind as they crept along, until finally they came to a foul-smelling river running across their path and through a grate in the wall to their right. Evelyn’s eyes burned from being so close to it. Fern hopped into the filth, ducked her head under, and a second later popped up on the other side of the grate.
“The grate doesn’t go very deep. Swim under,” she said, her voice just carrying over the steady sound of running water.
They’d moved out of the smooth brick tunnels. Here, gnarled roots made up the ceiling and walls of the cavern. The tunnel stretched as far as she could see both ahead and behind her, the river of filth bisecting it. Evelyn looked at Fern desperately. She did not want to climb into that filth.
“It is the only way,” Fern said. “Join me, or you can wait here until they find you.” Her voice was gentle. The words contained no judgment, no rancor. They were just a simple statement of truth. This, more than anything, convinced Evelyn. She took a deep breath, stepped into the thick muck, and tried not to think about what it might contain.
Her eyes watered as she sunk up to her neck. She moved up to the grate and felt with her feet to give herself an idea of how deep to go. It continued only about a foot below the surface. She dunked her head under and swam to the other side.
The tunnel the sewage ran through was narrower than the one they had been running down. It was lined with loose fitted stones, half of which had collapsed at some point and been washed away by the muck. There was no space to walk along the edges, so they were forced to alternate between swimming and wading through the river of waste. Evelyn’s eyes burned, and it was a struggle not to vomit, but she swam on, following the dim form of her rescuer.
After a good while, Evelyn began picking up wafts of fresh air through the suffocating ammonia smell of the tunnel. Fern stopped, bobbing a short distance ahead, and as Evelyn approached, she could see a large hole in the wall of the tunnel. Fresh, clean air flowed in through the gap, and Evelyn made her way over and poked her head out in relief.
They were fifty feet up in the air; the tunnel was actually a pipe that spanned a massive cavern. Evelyn had no idea how the pipe managed to stay up and intact—there were no supports that she could see. The space was so large, it vanished into the shadows above them and plummeted fifty feet below into a huge pool of dark water. They were deep underground, but some sort of plant clung to the stone walls and roof, providing a soft yellow glow to see by. Evelyn had never been afraid of heights, but the realization that she had been crawling through an unsupported narrow tunnel as it crossed such a vast space sent shudders up and down her spine.
“This is the fun part,” Fern said, grinning as she nudged Evelyn aside and climbed up onto the broken ledge of the pipe. She leapt, a perfectly arcing dive carrying her into the dark pool below, with barely a splash of water. Evelyn stared in amazement as a brilliant flash of blue bloomed where Fern had hit the water. As the woman surfaced and swam across the pool, a luminous blue trail glowed in her wake.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“It’s called biolumesce,” Fern called up from below. “Come on in, it’s wonderful!” She waved before dunking below.
The water was so clear, the biolumesce so bright, Evelyn could clearly see Fern pulling herself effortlessly through the water, leaving zig zags of blue light behind her as she went.
Evelyn was terrified to jump from such a height, but the clean water and fresh air beckoned. She climbed up onto the ledge and half jumped, half fell toward the pool below. She felt an instant’s thrill as she plummeted through the warm air and then her body plunged into the cool water of the underground lake.
She opened her eyes, disoriented, spinning as she tried to figure out which way was up. Then she saw Fern’s smiling face staring at her, beckoning her. Evelyn grinned and kicked toward Fern, marveling at the blue glow exploding around her. As Evelyn’s head broke the surface, Fern laughed, the sound bouncing back and forth through the cavern.
Relief washed over Evelyn—the relief of being away from whomever had held her captive, of being out of that filthy pipe of waste, and of not being alone. Evelyn couldn’t help herself—she laughed too.
“We are safe now,” Fern said. “They can’t follow us here. Now, might as well get rid of these.” She kicked off her clothes, allowing them to drift down into the depths of the water, but she held onto the pack, draping it once again across her back. She nodded toward the pipe high above. “They’ll never come clean after that.”
“What is it that makes the water glow like this? Biolumesce, you called it.”
“Yes, it’s made by small organisms that live in the water. They glow when they’re disturbed.” She waved an arm around in the water, smiling as color exploded around it.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Evelyn said, doing the same with her own arm. “It’s beautiful.”
“Mostly they live only deep under the ground,” Fern said. “Though sometimes you can find pockets of them on the surface.”
In the light of the cavern, Evelyn was able to see her rescuer clearly for the first time. Fern’s short, yellow hair set off high cheekbones and a wide, friendly smile. Most remarkable however, was the fine blue scaling that ran along those cheekbones, along both sides of her neck, and down each arm.
She had never seen scaling like that. Her first thought was that it must have been painted on, but the face painting she had seen at fairs had never looked so real. And she had never seen anyone paint scaling onto their bodies either. Fine blue scaling, magic that could break through thick metal—who was this woman, and where were they?
She pushed the thoughts aside. She was free. Wherever she was now, she could find her way home.
Following Fern’s example, she stripped off her filthy clothing. Even if they could be washed clean, she never wanted to wear them again. She wanted nothing that would remind her of that place. She dunked her head under the water and vigorously scrubbed at her hair and her skin. She felt like the stench of the waste would never leave her again.
Fern dove, the bright blue light trailing her as she kicked for the bottom. She scooped handfuls of gravel up, scrubbing it against her skin. Evelyn did the same, diving again and again, scrubbing until her dark skin glowed fresh and clean. With each layer of filth that was rubbed off, she felt a layer of sanity return to her. And with it, her concern for her parents.
“Fern, where are we? And what of my parents?”
The smile faded from Fern’s lips, and her eyes softened. “What do you remember? Where do you think you are?”
“I’m in Meuse. At least, I was last night. I had dinner with my parents, and I fell asleep in my own bed. Now I have no idea where I am or how I got here. Or where my parents are. They must have poisoned me, though I have no idea how.”
“Your parents are safe, at least as far as I know. He only wanted you.”
Some of the knots in Evelyn’s belly loosened. Her parents were unharmed. “Me? Who would want me?”
“Fariss. And you’re lucky he didn’t kno
w what you actually are, or I can guarantee that you wouldn’t be swimming here with me right now.”
“Fariss? Who is Fariss? And what do you mean what I am?” The knots began to tighten in her belly again.
Fern swam toward her and put a hand on each of Evelyn’s shoulders. Evelyn’s eyes focused on the blue scaling on the other woman’s cheekbones.
“You are not going to believe me, but you are not anywhere in Brielle. You’re in Marique—you know it as Dreggs—and you just survived an encounter with the foulest warlock alive.”
Evelyn stared at her in shock and pedaled backward in the glowing water, breaking Fern’s gentle grip.
“A warlock? Ha ha…very funny,” Evelyn said. She was angry, and she let it show. How dare Fern make a joke after what she’d just been through?
Fern pushed herself through the water until she bobbed face to face with Evelyn once again. “It’s not funny, and I am not making a joke,” she said. “On your way to Marique you met a man, Fariss. He somehow found out you were a changeling and—”
“A changeling!” Evelyn couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“He tortured you for three weeks in that place, Ling. He cut you, scalped you, skinned you, pinned you, drowned you, burned you…I saw it all. I watched it happen. They never left you alone long enough for me to get to you in all that time. Fariss practically slept in there with you. The few times he vanished off into other parts of Shadowhold, he always left others to guard you. Too many for me to handle alone.”
She was serious, no glimmer of humor in her features. She placed her hands on Evelyn’s shoulders once again and looked directly into her eyes. “He tried to take you apart piece by piece with magic the likes of which I have never seen. He wanted to learn how to build more of you. An army of people who could not be killed or even injured. I was certain you were going to die. But you didn’t.”
“You’re crazy! There’s not a mark on me. Look!” Evelyn motioned to her body, naked, and clearly visible in the glowing water. “Whoever he was, he’s only held me captive since some time last night, and he did nothing more than lock me up. You’re the only one that has hurt me, popping those cursed cuffs off. And stop calling me Ling!”
“You are in Marique, Ling, and like it or not, you are involved in something much bigger than whatever it is that brought you here. Fariss doesn’t know what you are, but he was right about one thing: you change everything.”
Evelyn suddenly felt the need to flee, to run away as fast as she could and never look back. Fern was clearly touched in the head. There was no way anything she was saying was true. But she was stuck here, deep underground, and Fern was the only one who could get her out. She might no longer be shackled, but she was still a prisoner.
“I fell asleep last night in my own bed, at my own house, while my parents chatted in the kitchen downstairs. You’re saying I was somehow transported here overnight?”
“No.”
“No. Of course I wasn’t!”
“Of course you weren’t. You got here just like everyone else does. You took a ship,” Fern said.
Evelyn stared at her for two breaths, then leaned back to float in the water, paddling her hands at her sides as she thought. The narrow pipe she’d crawled through to get here was clearly visible, the jagged hole she’d leapt through bashed into its side by some rock that had fallen ages ago. She had no idea where she was or how she’d gotten here, but she had to find her way back home, even if that meant playing along with Fern’s ridiculous story. She took a deep breath, held it to the count of twenty, then moved upright again to face Fern.
“Okay. So I was tortured by a warlock. Where do we go from here?”
Fern studied her intently, as if sensing the lie, but she shrugged and turned away, swimming toward a small beach to one side of the cavern. She walked up the beach, vanishing into a deep shadow at the back of the beach. Evelyn walked up onto the beach as well, brushing water off by flicking at it with her hands. She listened as things shifted and moved around in the shadows Fern had disappeared into. A moment later, the woman returned with a pile of blankets. She dropped them onto the gravel of the beach and vanished once again, coming back this time with food, two wine skins, and a thick heavy book.
“You don’t believe me. But you will. Here.” She handed Evelyn an incredibly soft and warm blanket, one of the wine skins, and a fresh loaf of bread filled with a thick hunk of cheese and salted ham. Then she held out the book.
“This is your book. You had it with you when they took you. They were so focused on you that they forgot all about it. They didn’t notice when it went missing. I think it will tell you everything you need to know.”
“This is not my book,” Evelyn said, running a hand across its rippled leather surface.
“Read it, and you will remember.” Fern’s eyes were liquid. “I will not be far. Call if you need anything.”
Fern wandered off a ways and settled onto the sand wrapped in a blanket of her own, her back to Evelyn. Evelyn stroked the cover of the book, the leather soft and malleable under her touch. There were no words engraved on it, just a strange pattern that looked a lot like the print of a hand. She tried to flip it open, but its cover refused to move. She pulled against it hard, but it still wouldn’t budge. She frowned and examined it closely, marveling at the detail of the pattern. Each individual swirl and curl was clearly embedded in the leather. It looked like it might be the same size as her own hand. She placed her own into the print and was surprised to find a perfect fit. She lifted her hand to study the pattern on her own palm, on the tips of her fingers. They looked an awful lot like the cover. How was such a thing possible? She ran her finger along the edge and was surprised to feel the cover move ever so slightly. Frowning, she tried lifting the cover once again, and this time it flipped open easily.
Read this before you do anything else. Start at the beginning. You are not Evelyn, though you have her memories and her face. You’ll not believe me at first, but I have a story to tell. Your story. Our story.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ling read the last page again, the third time in the last few minutes, before flipping the cover closed. She lay back, ignoring the sharp gravel digging into her skin, and looked at the pipe hanging high above. When they had leapt out of it hours before, she had still known who she was, if not where she was or why. Now, she knew everything, but she felt like she’d never known less in all of her life.
I am a changeling.
She let the blanket fall from her shoulders as she walked to the edge of the lake. The water was dark and still. She stooped to scoop up a handful of gravel and tossed it out into the water. Brilliant blue exploded out from every place the gravel hit water. It was a beautiful display.
Even though the last entry had been added before her capture, the grimoire seemed to support Fern’s story. Fariss, a warlock, had taken her to his home—Shadowhold, Fern had called it—to make more of her, more of what he saw was the perfect weapon in the war against the Mari. He wanted to use her to finish what he’d started—the destruction of the last remaining Mari. All so he and his ilk could control the little bit of magic left before the last of it drained away.
But what were Fern’s motivations? Dreskin had helped her and sent her to the Courser. The captain of the Courser, Drake, and Alyssum were lovers. Alyssum and Fern were both Mari. There were connections there, but what did it all mean? What did they want with her?
“Biolumesce,” she said, loud enough for her voice to carry to Fern. “It should have killed us both.” She had heard about the tiny creatures that caused it while aboard the Courser. Fariss had told her all about them, minute beings that glowed when disturbed and fed on living flesh.
“If we were human, it would have,” Fern said, approaching quietly from behind.
“You know the truth about me, about what I am, but you still choose to help. Why?” In Brielle she would be chased out or killed for what she was. Here in Marique it seemed everyone wante
d her because of it. The change was confusing.
Fern looked at her quizzically. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You want to use me against the warlocks, just like they want to use me against you.” In reading through the book, the truth about what Fern was had jumped out clearly. A Mari. Just like Alyssum was. Fern had iridescent blue scaling where Alyssum had shining yellow, but they were both Mari.
“We want your help in closing the breach. Without the breach there is no war. At least that is our hope.”
“I am a changeling, but I have no magic of my own. The only thing I can do is not die when someone tries to kill me. I can’t help you.”
“Oh, you are so much more than a changeling, Ling. You are a navire. There isn’t a good translation for the word, but you are like a pail or a pot. You are a vessel that can store magic, Ling. That makes you very powerful.”
Ling had wondered as much. In the grimoire she’d written about how strange it was that she continued to exist in Brielle, a place that had no magic of its own. People who used magic felt it—the lack of magic in Brielle was a strain on them. In the Colli Terra, she’d discovered that some magical beings became monsters when their magic faded away—they became so desperate that they sought out any bit of magic they could find and destroyed it in their desperation to taste it one last time. But she’d survived five years in Brielle without feeling a thing.
She had started this journey to find a way to destroy herself and to hopefully give Evelyn her life back. But she’d failed. Everything she’d been seeking for so long had ended in that cave. And now she could see that she was losing control of her own fate. The conflicting interests of the factions spinning around her were sucking her in, forcing her to play a role in something she barely understood. The Mari, the warlocks, they were all so remote from her life. What did she care for their wars?