The Last Sea God

by Ashley Capes

  Before Holindo could act, Enso let out a scream.

  The sound of bones snapping filled the room. His cry slid into a screech as more and more bones snapped, his limbs twisting until his body gave a mighty heave, out of the arms of a surprised Holindo, crashing to the floor.

  One final snap and the Perfume Rat was still, his head lying at an odd angle.

  Seto spun to the door, hand on his knife, but the hallway was empty. There was not even the hint of fleeing footsteps or a glimmer of disappearing fabric. Only scantily clad young men and women moving in and out of rooms, arms full of bedding.

  “Seto!” Holindo’s rasping voice stretched into a shout.

  Back inside, the captain had fallen back against the bedpost – sword in a white-knuckled hand. Enso’s arm was moving, his sightless eyes empty. The arm raised itself to the man’s head, fingertips brushing the bloody gash, and then it stretched out to write on the floor, stopping only once for more dark blood.

  And then Enso’s arm fell away, and the body grew still again.

  On the floor, written in the man’s own blood were four words only.

  Do not seek me.

  27. Flir

  Flir turned the wagon east, into the sleet.

  The road was a cold stone blade forging through muddy fields. All empty of crop or crow, all quiet – farmhouses standing against the cold, rooves covered in frost, smoke rising from chimneys. The air seemed to claw at her cheeks as she turned her face into the wind, looking over her shoulder.

  Pevin lay in the wagon bed, covered in blankets, wedged between foodstuffs and tents. So far, he didn’t appear to be worsening. A small victory.

  The sound of hooves from behind drew near, and Kanis hailed her. “Someone is following us,” he said when he reined his horse in.

  “You saw them clearly this time?” Flir asked. Two weeks on the road and several times both she and Kanis had seen enough to suspect someone followed. Hints of smoke aligning with their own camping, a dark horseman several hills or turns back – a traveller who never caught up to them. Unusual, slowed as they were by the wagon.

  And now, a mere day or two out from the capital, passing through what should have been green farmlands, Kanis had sought to discover just who was trailing them. He was betting on Aren himself; Flir put her money on one of his men. Pevin, when he wasn’t sleeping, would have said the same.

  Kanis shook his head, flicking beads of rain as he did. “No. I thought I’d catch him, but he turned before I could get a proper look. Clumsy of the both of us – I don’t think it’s someone used to following unseen.”

  “Then we keep an eye on him.”

  “You don’t want to a put stop to it now? I could set an ambush easily enough.”

  Flir glanced along the road ahead. “Not yet. It might be no-one. We’ll wait for the bridge. If they cross after us, we can trap them a little easier.”

  “Good.” Kanis cracked his knuckles. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

  “Aren’t you feeling belligerent. What’s gotten into you?”

  He shrugged.

  “Out with it. Is it about that damn woman and her bone in your hand?”

  “No. It’s Aren. I don’t like him.”

  “That all?”

  Kanis grunted. “Don’t pretend you trust him just to goad me.”

  “I want to know what he’s up to just as much as you.”

  “Do you think he really knows more than he lets on? About us?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Well, I think it’s a ploy. Same with the old lighthouse and the Ice-Priests.”

  “That wouldn’t be hard to verify, if the priests are really going missing.”

  “He could be using it to his advantage.”

  “Let’s say he is. What does he want?”

  Now Kanis swore. “Don’t be stupid, Flir. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel what I felt. That kid could have taken all of me back there.”

  He was right, but was there more to it than greed? “But he didn’t. And neither did Aren. I’m not saying I disagree, but what’s the end point to this supposed long con? They save us, then put themselves at risk to cement trust... for what?”

  “That’s what I can’t figure out. If they can take strength from dilars, why isn’t Aren much more powerful? He could have been doing it for years, and people like us would be disappearing. And if he was, I would have heard of it. I haven’t been away that long.”

  “He said he only came across the knowledge recently. Perhaps it takes a long time to perfect. I can’t imagine he’d have had many volunteers... we should have asked him about that actually.”

  Kanis nodded slowly. “Or there’s something at the lighthouse that he needs?”

  Flir sighed. “I don’t know. If you want, we can go there once we meet the Conclave and see what’s going on.”

  “Right. One thing at a time, I suppose.”

  When Pevin woke he was well enough to help set up camp but he was troubled by news that Ice-Priests had been disappearing. “If it’s true, this is grave news. With such a clinging winter, we could face terrible snowstorms, famine… fighting over resources, and not just those in the north. It will happen here, too, further south.”

  “Perhaps it is already happening,” Flir said. She tossed a log to the flames, greedy, grasping hands of orange that didn’t do much to warm her. “We all saw the fields.”

  After a moment, Pevin said, “I would like to find out the truth, dilar. After we see the Conclave, of course.”

  Flir placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to ask permission. And I’m curious too.”

  “Thank you,” he said, relief clear on his face. “My younger brother is our Priest – he took the role in my stead. I would hate to think my pig-headedness had cost him his life.”

  “Isn’t he working in your family holding?” Kanis asked.

  “We are from the east... but not so far south as the lighthouse. But if he had been called down to help, as has happened in the past...”

  “We’ll find the truth behind Aren’s claims once we’re done in Enar,” Flir said. “But for now, let’s get some rest. I’ll take first watch; we still have our friend following.”

  While Pevin and Kanis arranged their bedding within the tents, Flir sat with her back to the flames and stared into the darkness beyond. A troubling thought had come to the surface. Slowly, over the course of the trip, despite how much he irritated her, Flir had come to enjoy working with Kanis again. It was like old times, which was an alarm bell all of its own.

  And yet, they’d achieved much together.

  Even earlier, trying to figure out Aren’s true motive together brought that sense of shared purpose. Something she’d missed since Notch left, and since she lost Luik. Not that Pevin wasn’t a friend... but he wasn’t an old friend.

  Old memories were stirring with her realisation too, memories best left where they couldn’t impair her judgement. Memories of Kanis, of their time together before all the trouble with the royal family. Time when he’d been as tender as he was brash...

  Flir sighed. Maybe being home again was messing with her head.

  After all, she couldn’t fully forgive Kanis for everything he’d done, just because she was feeling confused about whether she was homesick – and worse, when she couldn’t even decide where she was feeling homesick for.

  ***

  The dawn was a cold one; the end of her nose had surely turned to ice and a reluctance to leave her blankets had her scowling at herself as she rose. Anaskar’s climate had her getting soft. Still, how much fondness could she really have for such cruel weather?

  “Any visitors?” she asked Kanis as he handed her a cup of steaming picha, the scent of lavender strong. The second cup he gave to Pevin, who’d already broken his tent.

  “None.”

  “Well, let’s keep an eye out anyway.”

  This close to the capital, the muddy road was busier. There should have been more farmers
and merchants taking their wares in to Enar but with such a poor-seeming harvest it was mostly travellers in worn clothing, a single patrol of soldiers in their fur-lined armour, and one young family with large bundles of what seemed to be their entire possessions.

  When Flir asked what they fled, the mother pulled her child close and shook her head, refusing to answer.

  “We don’t want trouble, lady,” the man said as he hurried them along.

  Flir exchanged glances with Pevin and Kanis.

  By the time they reached the glittering green expanse of the Venach River, the sun had broken through the clouds, falling upon a pair of wagon trains. The lead wagons were blocking one another near the mouth of the arching Venach Bridge – beyond which, eventually, waited the capital.

  “Looks like we’re not getting through in a hurry,” Kanis said.

  Men who appeared to be in charge of each wagon were shouting at one another about who had right of way. With one train heading in and the other trying to leave, and both turned enough to prevent the other’s progress – not to mention anyone else’s – Flir had to stop herself leaping down from her own seat and smashing the wagons to splinters.

  “If we toss a few wagons over the side, that might help,” she replied.

  “That’s a little uncharitable, dilar,” Pevin said.

  Kanis crossed his arms. “Sounds good to me.”

  One voice rose to a screech. “Last chance, mud-head. You don’t move, I’ll blow you and the whole bridge to the sky.”

  “Shut your mouth, Junish – fur-man like you could never afford acor. Now get your nag out of my way,” the second said, hefting an axe.

  Flir frowned. An argument over right of way was one thing; blowing up the only bridge over the mighty Venach was another.

  Darkness flashed, catching her eye – high on the bridge’s entry-column.

  An elongated figure seemed to cling to the stone. Black, leathery skin stretched over protruding bones, and despite its gauntness, it was huge. When it moved, deep purple highlights were visible beneath the sun. It crept down steadily toward the two men – and before Flir could shout a warning, it dropped onto the man claiming to own acor.

  Blood splattered onto his wagon as his scream tore across the river. The dark creature wrapped its many legs around the man, bearing him to the flagstones with a sharp crack. The other merchant fell back, fumbling for his whip. All along the trains other men were scrambling from their wagons, even the armed guards. Splashing followed as men threw themselves into the river and pounding feet thundered across the bridge, heading toward Enar. But the thing seemed satisfied with its first victim… until a long arm or leg shot forth at a seemingly impossible angle, impaling the second caravan leader.

  Flir spun to Pevin. “You can’t help us with this, understood?”

  “But dilar—”

  “Flee if we cannot stop it,” she said, cutting off his words as she leapt to the ground. Kanis was right beside her.

  “What by Mishalar is it?” he asked.

  “Never seen anything like it.”

  “Me either.”

  “Remember, we don’t know everything it’s capable of,” she said as she sidestepped a gibbering man. Kanis had already thrust two guards from his path, his winged mace ready. Flir had her short sword drawn as they approached the nearest wagon, which obscured the thing on the ground.

  “It’s fast,” Flir whispered.

  Kanis gave a nod.

  The creature had dragged the second man closer, looming over him almost protectively. It was an insect-like cage of legs and arms, the sinuous body catching the light and setting the purple patches shimmering. The skull was elongated too and its eyes rested low on the head, spots within the iris lightening to amethyst. Its jaw hung open over the bloodied corpse of the first man. The creature’s mouth was wide enough to swallow the fellow whole, yet only gurgling sounds came forth as a grey substance spewed free, spreading across the dead body.

  Like a web.

  Flir ground her teeth; it turned her stomach. But despite her revulsion she could tell a sword wasn’t quite right. She sheathed it, with half an eye on the nearest wagon. Kanis was breathing a little hard but he dropped to a crouch, then leapt forth. He swung his mace at the creature’s hunched back.

  A sharp crack split the air – as if steel had struck marble. Kanis was thrown back, cursing as his mace fell to the ground. He cradled his hand, flinching as the creature spun, the grey substance spraying as it howled.

  It reared up, front legs raised.

  Flir dashed to the wagon. She gripped the wooden sides and hauled the cart into a spin – flinging it into the creature. Wood exploded and the steel frame clanged to the stones. The dark creature shook its head as if dazed, more grey web flying across the bridge. Kanis scrambled back, snatching up his mace.

  “We’re not doing much damage here,” he shouted.

  “I know.”

  “Any ideas?”

  Flir glanced over the wreckage... and there it was. Dark powder now coated the creature’s legs and the bridge beneath it. Acor. It had to be worth trying.

  “Start a fire,” she called.

  “What?”

  “Just do it, fool! I’ll draw its attention.”

  Kanis ran for one of the unharmed wagons in the train, having either decided to follow her orders or having seen the acor, had put it together. Flir tore a wheel from the next wagon and hurled it at the creature’s head. It dodged easily. She ripped her sword free and backed away as it scrambled after her – good. She kept giving ground, leading it further from the bridge and across the cold earth beside the road. A dark leg speared forth and she deflected it with her blade, backhanding a second leg with her free hand.

  Bone cracked but she ignored the pain. “Kanis!”

  “Hold on a little longer.”

  The purple eyes regarded Flir from where it towered over her. Its toothless mouth was opening, lower jaw falling as more of the grey, web-like substance filled the cavity. It sucked in a breath and spat – but Flir was already diving aside.

  She rolled to her feet and deflected another stabbing arm. Her sword shattered. Warm blood ran down her face and she wiped at it as she skipped further away.

  “Give me some room,” Kanis called.

  Flir hurled herself back, pushing hard off the ground. She landed then somersaulted into a handstand, pushing herself away even further as a boom rocked the earth. A rush of hot air stung her face and hands as she crashed to the mud.

  But she sprang to her feet as soon as the heat eased – to see the creature standing, unharmed.

  “Bastard.”

  Like before, it appeared stunned but had not fallen.

  It had to have some manner of weakness, but what? The dark thing still hadn’t regained its senses; the purple orbs were closed and the limbs twitched. Yet there, now that it was still, mouth agape...

  “Kanis. I need more acor.”

  “It’s no use,” he called from where he was circling the thing. “We didn’t even hurt it.”

  The creature’s eyes snapped open – one following Flir and one locking on Kanis. It fell into a crouch, then charged – heading for the bridge. Flir started after but it was too fast. It scrambled to the top of the column then into the very sky itself, shimmering as its legs moved in a blur.

  And then it was gone.

  28. Flir

  Enar’s fourth-finest inn, so proclaimed by the portly owner, was warm and welcoming, with a cheery fire, comfortable seats, good service and food that looked like it should have been as grand and sumptuous as anything on a king’s table.

  And yet it tasted like nothing to Flir.

  Only the wine cut through her dark mood, a welcome bitterness. “What was that thing?” she asked over the din of voices and the crackle of flames.

  Kanis sighed. “Enough, Flir. I don’t like being beaten any more than you, but I’ve already told you I have no idea. We’ve gone over every creature ‒ mythical or o
therwise ‒ and it’s just not there.”

  She ignored him. “And how did it escape? And why did it leave then? We weren’t any closer to killing it. Was that why people were fleeing the area? Had it only just arrived – and if so, from where?”

  “I have been thinking on the how, dilar,” Pevin said.

  “And?”

  “We’ve already established that it was spider-like, yes? Well, why not a web that we could not see properly?”

  “I saw nothing like that, Pevin,” Kanis said. “And I was very close.”

  “From my angle I thought I saw it clinging to something, once it left the bridge.”

  Kanis signalled for another round. “And it went off into the very sky, I suppose?”

  Pevin spread his hands. “Or across the river to a point we could not see. The banks do rise quite steeply to the east of the bridge.”

  Flir slapped the table. Cutlery jumped, as did their plates and Kanis caught his drink. “There’s an old guard post downstream,” she said. “Who’s to say it didn’t go there?”

  “Well, I don’t want to know,” Kanis said. “Tomorrow we meet with the Conclave and then we’re leaving.”

  “We can’t let it attack the city, Kanis,” Flir said.

  He grunted.

  “I mean it.”

  “Fine. Then we warn the Conclave and let them deal with it.”

  “Think they can?”

  “We’re not the only dilar on the continent, you know.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The Conclave has a pair of knuckle-brains under their employ. I don’t know if you remember them? Two brothers, Ledal and Depeva.”

  “Don’t remember them.” She sipped her drink, glaring at him. “But I’m not going to dump it in their lap and disappear.”

  “Fine. We’re running low on funds; how about we charge the Conclave? How does twenty thousand gold pieces sound?”

  She folded her arms. “Why not fifty then?”

  “Let’s focus on the Conclave itself first,” Pevin said before Kanis could reply.