A Lair of Bones

by Helen Scheuerer

  ‘What in the realm?’ Odi murmured.

  Dread sank to the pit of Roh’s stomach like a stone. She should have known there would be an unforetold element to this already horrific task. High up, the galleries were brimming with cyrens. As in the first trial, Roh could tell they were from all over the realms above. The different fashions, the snippets of conversation in various dialects … Roh couldn’t see the queen, who was sitting up high in her throne, but her great, open wings cast long shadows across them all.

  A fist of panic clenched hard around Roh’s throat, and suddenly the words she’d sworn she’d never utter aloud came bubbling out. ‘I cheated,’ she said.

  Odi’s amber gaze met hers and he waited.

  ‘To get my place in the tournament,’ Roh explained. The cord that had been wrapped so tight around her heart loosened ever so slightly as the confession peeled away from her. ‘I rigged the deck. I used a sleight of hand in the card game we played. I lied to Harlyn and Orson. If I hadn’t, it might have been one of them standing here with you. I’m … I’m a fraud.’

  Applause burst from the crowd beyond the passage, but Odi didn’t look away. ‘Do you regret it?’ he asked.

  Roh chewed her lip. Did she? She regretted how it made her feel. She regretted that it had driven an invisible wedge between her and her family, one that they were not even aware of. But would she take it back? Would she relinquish her place in the tournament?

  ‘I …’

  Odi’s long fingers gripped the curve of her shoulder. ‘It doesn’t matter how you got your place,’ he told her. ‘Not now. You got to this point by surviving each trial. We can never know who might have stood with me had you not cheated. But you are standing here and I’m glad it’s you.’

  The sound of a pebble skittering across the ground echoed off the walls.

  ‘Someone’s coming,’ Roh whispered, wishing the moment hadn’t been broken. She turned back to Odi. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  He frowned. ‘For what?’

  ‘Just … thank you.’ She knew that confessing to Odi didn’t absolve her of her crimes against her friends, against the whole Lower Sector, but it helped. It helped to tell someone who understood her, who delivered no judgement. Before facing a sea serpent, it helped to know that perhaps she wasn’t a complete monster herself. Roh pushed her hair from her face and stepped out of the shadows, into the light.

  The same messenger who’d brought Roh to the queen’s quarters approached them and took them to where the rest of the competitors were waiting. They passed through the archway of bones, its ivory tones brilliant against the darkness of the cavern, loose fragments of bone rattling underfoot. Roh found herself trying to catch Yrsa’s eye, but the highborn was staring straight ahead. At something Roh hadn’t yet noticed … Something had been curtained off beyond the glass tanks. Beside Yrsa, Finn Haertel sported the usual crossbow strapped across his back and seemed to be ignoring the numerous groups of female cyrens in the crowd who called out to him, waving canvas banners with his name scrawled across them. Next to him, Zokez bore no visible weapon. Roh’s gaze went to Zokez’s foot, which tapped the ground erratically. Behind him, his human was as pale as bone. Estin Ruhne’s head was bowed into her hands, hiding her expression and whatever decision she had made for herself.

  A single note of music filled the air and hummed upwards through the galleries. The insatiable crowd fell silent as Elder Colter stepped out into the open.

  ‘Welcome once more to Saddoriel, cyrens of the realms. Welcome to the third and final trial of our great Queen’s Tournament,’ he said, his voice magically projecting to the top reaches of the galleries.

  Roh wriggled her toes in her boots, suppressing the urge to run.

  ‘Our competitors have been given a valiant task,’ Elder Colter continued. ‘One that honours an ancient tradition, one that will test their endurance, their perseverance, their strengths and their dedication to the crown. Our competitors have been asked to retrieve the scale of a sea serpent.’

  Shocked gasps echoed throughout the galleries and the crowd broke out in excited murmurs. Roh’s skin crawled. These were her people, this was her kind.

  ‘The scale, if retrieved, will be used for the royal armour that has yet to be completed over the course of our history. At the commencement of this final trial, each competitor’s human, whom they were tasked with keeping alive, will be placed in one of these glass tanks you see here.’

  Ice shot down Roh’s spine.

  ‘For the duration of the trial, the tanks will fill with water, until each respective competitor returns.’

  ‘Gods.’ Odi glanced at Roh, his eyes filled with horror.

  ‘Each human will be measured and placed on a block within the tank, so they are of equal height and the competitors get equal time to retrieve the scale.’

  ‘Roh …’

  She could feel Odi trembling beside her. But Roh could do nothing to soothe the panic in her friend, nor within herself.

  ‘The first cyren to return with a sea-serpent scale, within the allotted timeframe, will be our victor and future ruler. Those who return after, or not at all, lose.’ Elder Colter surveyed the competitors. ‘Given the nature of this trial, every competitor has the opportunity to forfeit.’

  Forfeit. The word reverberated in Roh’s mind, more of an option now than it had been at Estin Ruhne’s request. I could get out of this unscathed. I could return to bone architecture having lived through a Queen’s Tournament … The thoughts flitted from one to the next, Roh’s head spinning.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Estin Ruhne step towards Elder Colter. ‘I wish to forfeit,’ the architect said shakily.

  Elder Colter considered her and bowed his head. ‘Very well, Estin Ruhne.’ He gestured for her to leave the competitor area. She did so, without looking back, leaving her human to be taken away.

  ‘Elder Colter?’ Another voice laced with tremors sounded. ‘I also wish to forfeit.’

  It was Zokez Rasaat, his hands trembling at his sides.

  The council elder nodded. ‘Very well, Zokez. You may join Estin in the viewing gallery.’

  Zokez shoved his human towards the messengers and avoided eye contact with the other competitors, even Finn, as he hurried out of the staging area.

  What is happening? Roh watched Zokez until he was out of sight. Somehow, she hadn’t been expecting the highborns to forfeit. Surely, they all have something up their sleeves for this trial? Some insider knowledge? But their tightly drawn faces and silence said otherwise.

  ‘Roh?’ Odi’s voice whispered in her ear. ‘What are you going to do?’

  Roh was searching for familiar faces in the crowd, and unlike during the first trial, she found them – Harlyn and Orson, sitting with Ames and Jesmond in the second tier of the stone galleries. How did they manage to get those seats? These mundane observations seemed to occur at the oddest times and Roh forgot herself for a moment. Orson was waving at her, Harlyn standing stoically beside her, her cool expression still full of pride. They were here. If anyone can do it, Roh … it’s you. Her heart hammered as she came to her final decision. But it wasn’t just her. She and Odi were in this together.

  ‘Finn Haertel, Yrsa Ward and Rohesia of the Bone Cleaners, do you enter into this trial freely?’ Elder Colter’s voice sounded.

  Odi elbowed her. ‘Roh, what’s happening? What are we doing?’

  Roh eyed the glass tanks. ‘It’s your choice, Odi. I will not force you into one of those.’

  Finn and Yrsa gave a nod, and their humans were hurried away by messengers, led towards the great glass tanks for measurement.

  ‘The alternative?’ Odi whispered.

  ‘If the queen doesn’t keep you as her musical slave, you’ll be relieved of your protective token and released into the passages of the lair,’ Roh told him.

  ‘If I’m released, would I stand a chance of surviving?’ His words were hushed, desperate, and Roh wondered if, like her, he was picturing
Tess being swallowed by thick quicksand.

  ‘No,’ Roh said.

  ‘So, my choices are between two forms of certain death?’

  ‘Essentially.’

  ‘Rohesia of the Bone Cleaners, what say you?’ Elder Colter called.

  Roh waited. The eyes of the crowd, of Odi standing beside her, and the burning gazes of the Council of Seven Elders and Toril Ainsley bored into her.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Odi give her a subtle nod. Slowly, Roh dipped her own head, swallowing the hard lump in her throat. ‘We will compete.’

  A roar erupted from the crowd, though in her numb state, Roh couldn’t tell if it was in support or outrage. Perhaps one extra body in the water simply made things more interesting.

  Messengers appeared at Odi’s side and Roh gave his hand a firm squeeze before they led him away. She hoped he knew, knew how hard she was going to fight for them, to shake the certainty from at least one of the paths of certain death.

  Before Roh and the other competitors, Elder Colter removed the fabric covering the passageway. It was a veil of shimmering water, a portal to the sea. Like those she’d seen before, contained by an invisible force. Water-warlock magic. Without realising it, she’d been walking towards it, following the others.

  Without warning, Elder Colter was directly in front of her, holding something out to her. He pressed it into her palm. Odi’s protective shell token. ‘Your humans will be safe from the lure of the lair in the tanks.’ He directed his speech to all three of them. ‘While you search for the serpent, you will wear this. As time passes, it will change from hot to ice cold. When you can no longer bear it against your skin, it means your human is submerged under water, and that you have run out of time.’

  Roh’s hands were trembling as she looped the leather string around her neck. Sure enough, the shell was hot against her breastbone. Roh’s whole body trembled as she approached the veil, the shimmering entrance to the sea. She felt unmoored from herself, as though she wasn’t contained to her physical form, and she was looking down on what was occurring, detached, separate …

  A single note sounded once more. Finn and Yrsa launched themselves through the veil and into the abyss beyond. The crowd exploded.

  Hunting a gods-damned sea serpent … Roh shook her head. Numb, she pushed her boots off at the heel, and, without giving herself a chance to second-guess, she threw herself into the sea.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The sound of the crowd vanished and Roh was greeted by the muted, soothing tones of the sea. The current sang its own song, the water cool, not cold, humming against her skin. Her breathing changed immediately, her magic effortlessly pulling the air from the water around her and filling her lungs. The sea embraced her, becoming one with her, wrapping around not only her body and mind, but her soul, recognising her for what she was: a child of the current. She felt the connection slide into place, and once it did, with a single kick she shot through the water, and with a single flick of her wrist, the waters parted for her, the currents taking her where she bid. It was a thing of beauty, as vast and dark as she remembered it. She felt alive, untethered from the lair, becoming one with the water and the hypnotic lull of the sea —

  The image of Odi trapped in the glass tank flashed before her eyes and terror seized her. She couldn’t succumb to the sea’s song, couldn’t fall prey to the power of the ancient deep, couldn’t forget why she was here. Shaking herself from her daze, Roh spotted the trail of bubbles Finn and Yrsa had left in their wake and started after them. It looked like the highborns were working together, which was completely against the rules, but … how else could a handful of cyrens, even Jaktaren, take on a fully grown sea serpent? Roh kicked her legs, willing herself through the water, manipulating the currents, allowing her to swim faster. She swam hard, determined to follow the others. There was no doubt that they had obtained some knowledge about the creature; they had likely been hand-fed the information from their Elder Council relatives. Her best bet was to shadow them. It would be suicide for her and Odi if she simply darted off into the dark waters, hoping to randomly encounter the serpent and tackle it head on with nothing but a coil of rope and a dagger. She needed to be smarter than that, to use her cunning. Both she and Odi had risked so much to get here, and Odi’s life was yet again hanging in the balance, so she couldn’t afford to act brashly. Kicking her legs and parting the water with her will, she relished the feeling of power that rushed through her as she moved within the sea. For a moment, she wondered if Orson and Harlyn remembered what it was like to swim, to feel the currents skim across their skin and draw air from the water.

  The expanse of sea was like a slumbering giant before Roh. As she swam, her panic became a constant but quieter, duller sensation in the pit of her stomach. Shoals of violet trout, silver carp and pink-spotted bass darted past, giving her a wide berth. She gazed in wonder as a bloom of jellyfish floated past, their underbellies glowing in a lavender hue.

  Down here, sounds were subtler, but Roh could still hear the flurry of fins and tails skimming through the current, and the quiet sigh of the seaweed waving in the tides. She could taste the salt on her lips and feel the prickle of the ancient water on her skin. What if I swam and swam, and didn’t go back? The seabed was alive with coral of all colours and textures, tall and spiky bushels of velvety fronds. Here, the sea had its own ballad, accented with creatures and beautiful plant life. Why would anyone want to leave?

  The pulse and pull of the water had a powerful energy and rhythm that sang to the ancient part of Roh, the part that longed for the magic of music. While a cyren’s call could lure humans to their deaths, that ancient magic was crafted from the very essence of the sea’s song, a song that cyrens themselves found hard to resist. Roh allowed just a touch of sea water to fill her lungs. The burst of cold and salt brought her back to herself, and realising the trail was fading, she kicked violently, determined not to lose it.

  It was hard to keep track of time down here. Roh had a feeling that it hadn’t been too long since she’d left Saddoriel, but her senses were muddled. It felt as though she’d been in the sea her whole life. Her only tether back to the lair was the shell token resting against her breastbone, its temperature slowly changing from hot to warm, making Roh all too aware that although it may not feel like it, time was indeed ticking. Every minute that passed signified an increase in the danger Odi faced back in Saddoriel. She gritted her teeth. Odi would hold strong. He had to.

  Something tickled at her nose. A scent, through the water and the salt. She’d recognise it anywhere – blood. It lingered in Yrsa and Finn’s wake.

  Is one of them hurt? Have they attacked each other? The possibilities spun before Roh in a blur as she pushed on through the water, closing the gap between them while trying to remain unseen. Around her, the waters changed. They became warmer and more light penetrated the deep blues. She realised they were drawing into a bay, where serpents usually made their kills, where, according to legend, they destroyed warships with a single swing of their powerful bodies. Shuddering, Roh continued to swim, at last spotting the others ahead. She squinted, not quite able to see if they were injured as they ducked into the darker currents. Quickening her pace, Roh followed them, finally close enough to see them disappear into the mouth of a cave.

  What are they up to? She pushed through the tides, approaching the cave with trepidation. Peering inside, she could see a flicker of light from within —

  How? What are they doing in here? She could wait no longer, for fear of losing them in the darkness. Roh’s feet touched down on the gravelly floor of the cave and she palmed her dagger as she stepped inside. The light ahead illuminated the walls. She stepped forward, once, twice … Something wasn’t right. Did the cave lead somewhere? Had the Jaktaren stored the serpent scales here for this very purpose? It wouldn’t surprise her. Finn and Yrsa were working together, why not the whole guild? Wouldn’t it be their dream to see a Jaktaren upon the throne? She moved further in
side, soft currents still swirling around her. The cave felt small and constricted compared to the open waters outside, but Finn and Yrsa were somewhere in here … and they would lead her to the very sea-serpent scale she needed to win.

  The light ahead went out.

  A rush of water surged around Roh in the darkness, and for a second she froze, before looking to the mouth of the cave, where to her horror, a gate swung down, trapping her inside.

  ‘No!’ she screamed from her mind, the scales at her temples warming as she found her water voice, the one meant for her cyren deathsong. ‘Please – you can’t leave me here! Yrsa, Finn, don’t!’ Roh yelled telepathically, as loud as she could through the water, rattling the gate with her hands, talons extended.

  The Jaktaren paused on the other side.

  ‘Yrsa,’ Roh implored.

  But the highborn shook her head. ‘We are even,’ she said. ‘I owe you nothing.’

  Roh blanched. ‘You can’t —’

  ‘I told you we should have killed her. Or at least gagged her,’ Finn interjected coldly.

  ‘It might work in our favour,’ Yrsa said, her eyes scanning the bay.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Roh rattled the gate again. ‘Please!’

  The Jaktaren were already swimming away.

  Roh cursed the highborns and then herself. How could she have been so stupid? What was she always telling Odi? Never trust a cyren … She quelled the panic rising within her and examined the contraption she’d fallen for. She had to focus on getting out of here, and she knew design better than any highborn fool. As she ran her hands across the iron, she knew the trap had been forged in the Lower Sector by the metal workers. Its design had likely passed across Ames’ desk, perhaps even her own workbench. She just needed to stay calm, to think …

  From where she was trapped, the scent of blood filled Roh’s nostrils once more and she at last spotted its source from between the bars of her cage. Finn and Yrsa were corralling a wounded southern whale into the bay. Ribbons of blood stained the water like spilt ink, pouring from several crossbow bolts jutting from the beast’s body. The smell of impending death was crisp in Roh’s nostrils.