by Scott Hale
“How did you reach me? I was on horseback.”
“So was I, but Anguis made mine in secret, without the other elders. It was too weak. When it died, I ran the rest of the way.”
“R’lyeh, this is not what you need, not after what you’ve been through.” Vrana clenched the fist that she’d used to hit David and imagined it colliding with Anguis’ face instead. “This is wrong.”
The girl shook her head. She started to pace. “I don’t understand. They were Corrupted. It’s what our people do.”
“You’re thirteen, R’lyeh, and you butchered that man. If they were meant to die, then so be it. But you’re thirteen.” She sounded like her mother.
“I watched… I watched as my village was tortured, raped… killed. I’m not a child, Vrana. They took that away from me. I’m not stupid enough to think I can get that back. And I know you’re not either.” She paused and then asked, “Why are we not staying in Nachtla?”
“Because…” Vrana continued down the slope where a dirt path awaited. “Because if this is where I will find the Witch, then I’m certain she will try to kill me. We need to reach Lacuna, an island off the coast, first. And then we’ll deal with the Maiden.”
At the bottom of the valley, the path split: To the left, Nachtla, and to the right, a bridge spanning a stream. If this was the place Mara had first happened upon the myth of the Maiden of Pain, then that meant the bridge before them was the very same the twinned horror had haunted. Following Anguis’ instructions, Vrana aligned herself with the tower that rose out of Nachtla and made for the bridge—and the ocean beyond.
“This is where Mara put the boys to rest,” Vrana said, nodding her head at the covered bridge. “Do we cross it?”
R’lyeh grunted what must have been a “yes” and said curiously, “What do you think made all those craters?”
Thoughtlessly, Vrana looked to the nearest one, which was wide and several feet deep and also the place from which the stream had once originated. “Bombs,” she guessed, “from the Old World.”
“Maybe,” R’lyeh said, sounding unconvinced. “There’s so many of them, though. I don’t know. They remind me of little lakes.”
“You mean ponds?” Vrana laughed and then, mid-grin, began to realize there was more to Nachtla than a house through which they’d gain access to the Void.
“What is it?” R’lyeh asked as Vrana stopped a few feet from the bridge, the Raven’s body half-turned toward the town.
Vrana waved off R’lyeh, afraid that, if she were to respond, the thought would be lost. With her eyes, she followed faint lines of purple and green that were streaked across the earth. I’ve arrived at ---, a small town in the foothills of the --- mountains. She closed her eyes, felt her heart in her throat. There seems to be no less than one hundred lakes and ponds in the surrounding area, which I find bewildering, as it does not appear this part of the world has seen rain in quite some time.
“This is the place,” Vrana said, shoving her hands into her bags for the books on the Witch, which now sat on her bedroom floor. “This is the place where she took him!”
R’lyeh tilted her head.
“Do you remember the books that I showed you and Jakob in the Elys?”
“Yes,” R’lyeh said, “there was the one that was kind of like a warning and then the other about the man, the investigator, or whatever he was, that fell in love with the Witch. Wait.” R’lyeh absently rubbed the tentacles of her mask. “You’re saying this is the town from his journal?”
“The Ashen Man covered in flies—I saw him in my dream the first time I visited the Witch and again outside Nora when the townspeople had us surrounded. This is the place.” Vrana licked her lips with satisfaction. “This is the place where she opened a door to the Void to take him through.”
“And it never closed,” R’lyeh added excitedly.
“Or she left it open on purpose.” Vrana looked past R’lyeh, to Nachtla, the facades of which shone harshly under the beaming sun.
“Do you think you’d be here if she left Caldera alone?”
Vrana shook her head. “I doubt it, but she keeps coming to me. Maybe she wants this.” She sighed. “But the bitch is going to have to wait.”
“Why Lacuna?” R’lyeh broke into a sprint as Vrana hurried toward the covered bridge. “I’ve never even heard…”
Vrana held up her hand, and R’lyeh stopped where she stood. From the rafters of the bridge, up in the darkness and past motes of dust, something swung in and out of sight. Wood shavings fell through the air, shaken from their rest on the rickety supports. The wind howled as it funneled through the bridge, carrying with it the smell of decay. Bubbles and steam began to rise from the milling water below, hissing as it ate away at the supports.
Vrana turned to R’lyeh, put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, and said, “How about we go around?”
The Raven didn’t find herself as taken by the sight of the ocean as she’d been by the misty cliffs of the Elys. They stood upon the hood of a yawning cove, feet struggling for purchase on the algae-slickened rocks. A turbulent sea lay before them, spiraling and crashing into itself, spewing its salty breath in stinging waves at the mainland. Islands like fangs ruptured through the swirling gray—uninhabitable places under constant abuse. Driftwood, debris, and dead fish tumbled onto the beach, rejected offerings from the black deep.
“Is that the Nameless Forest?” R’lyeh shouted over the churning waters, the spray of the sea soaking her mask.
Vrana looked to the north and saw growing on a twisted peninsula the cancerous, wooded nightmare. She felt a sense of vertigo as her eyes tried to penetrate the haze that shielded it. She felt warm and then felt a desire to explore the Forest’s unknown corridors, to follow the fabled vermillion veins from bark to source. Death would be waiting there, she knew, should reason give way to curiosity; and she wondered, being Its dutiful servant, if Death would show her mercy when It came to collect her limp body from the Forest’s floor. She—
“Vrana,” R’lyeh continued, touching her, waking her, “where’s Lacuna?”
“Out there,” she said dreamily. She cleared her throat and said, “We’re looking for a dock. It must be inside the cove.”
“Why are we going to Lacuna?”
Anguis never told her. An immense sadness washed over Vrana as the girl shifted where she stood, wrapping her arms around herself in a feeble attempt to combat the breeze. As a friend, she wanted nothing more than to lie to R’lyeh, to spare her the pain that would inevitably ensue once she learned their reason for visiting the secret island. A Worm had taken everything from the girl: For what reason short of madness would R’lyeh wish to stand in the presence of another?
“I think there may be a village there, one of our own.” Vrana opened her bag and removed the sealing stone from it. “There is another Worm on the island not yet awakened. This—” she held up the stone, water drops from the ocean dotting the surface, “—will make sure the Worm stays that way.”
“Oh,” R’lyeh said. She turned from Vrana and eased her way down the side of the cove.
CHAPTER XXIX
How the dock was able to withstand the onslaught of the ocean was beyond Vrana. It was small and swayed with the tug of the current, and more often than not, it stood submerged beneath the foamy waters. The gaps between the planks of wood were large enough to see a foot caught, and ragged enough to see the same foot riddled with splinters.
“Are we supposed to take a boat?” R’lyeh pointed to a rope, a tether snaking through the water. “I’m not getting on a boat.”
“Of course not,” said a woman’s voice from behind them.
Vrana and R’lyeh spun around; weapons readied, they searched the shadows of the cove for the voice’s owner. Silt slugs and salt bats slithered and scampered up the sweating walls, while ghost crabs and rock wraiths scuttled and glided into tiny alcoves. For a place so close to Death, life seemed to prosper.
“Over here,” the woman
continued, emerging from the gloom of the cove. “You needn’t worry.”
The woman was thin and her body well-defined. She was of Vrana’s people, and she wore upon her head a mask comprised of the carapaces of entwined centipedes. The woman had no means by which to defend herself, nor did she wear much in the way of armor. Vrana became alarmed when she noted the crimson pigmentation along the woman’s right arm—Is this one of the imposters David spoke of?—but quickly realized it was nothing more than paint.
“You’ve me to thank for your witch hunt,” the woman said, putting her hand on her hip. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Vrana. The last time we met, you were chewing on one of those crystals in your basement.”
“I’m sorry,” Vrana said, lowering her ax, “but I have no idea who you are.”
The woman laughed as she dug her feet into the white sand. “Mara.”
Vrana’s voice rose in pitch as she said, “It’s… it’s nice to finally meet you.”
Mara nodded at the Raven and, pointing to R’lyeh, said, “Who’s your friend?”
There was something about the woman that reminded Vrana of Nora. “R’lyeh,” she said, looking at the girl as she uttered her name, “of Alluvia.”
“I see,” Mara said solemnly, bowing her head at R’lyeh. “I won’t waste time trying to comfort you by saying I know how you must feel. I couldn’t possibly know, and I hope that I never do.”
“Thanks?” R’lyeh murmured.
“What are you doing here?” Vrana looked over her shoulder as a large wave slammed into the dock.
Mara laughed and passed between the Raven and the Octopus. Her bare feet padded against the wood of the dock as she climbed its creaking stairs. “Waiting for you, of course,” she said, beckoning them to come to her.
After a moment of hesitation, Vrana and R’lyeh joined Mara on the dock, and together, all three creatures looked upon the Widening Gyre, the Sailor’s Bane. The sea had calmed considerably since they’d arrived, and had retreated significantly as well. Causeways of rock and sand were now visible, whereas once they had been hidden, and it was on these unstable bridges to oblivion that Mara was fixed.
“No,” R’lyeh said, backing away.
“Then stay here,” Mara said coldly. “But after what you’ve both endured, this will seem like nothing at all.”
“How far is Lacuna?” Vrana asked, lifting her head to Blix, who was circling high above, waiting for orders.
“So they told you the island’s name?” Mara laughed. “That’s better than what I got.” The Centipede dropped off the end of dock and sank up to her ankles in the wet sand. “It’s far, but the journey is quicker than you might think.”
“What about the Nameless Forest?” R’lyeh asked, her voice high and girly, the demon that had possessed her to kill asleep once more.
Mara nodded at Vrana, who also stepped off the docks. “Pay it no mind. If the Nameless Forest wants you, it’ll have you. Come on. We need to get across before the water returns.”
One by one, they navigated the sandbars and rock walls. The ocean eddied beside them, lapping against the makeshift paths; intimidating them, encircling them, the ocean was a predator of infinite form and endless hunger. The wind, cold and sharp, stung their skin and burned their lungs and seemed adamant in seeing them thrown to the greedy current. Mara, of course, went fearlessly, for she had likely trod this watery trail more times than she could recall.
“Lacuna, like Caldera, has its own spellweavers who see it shrouded from prying eyes,” Mara said. “You won’t know it’s there until it is.”
Vrana looked back: In a moment, they’d cleared a mile. Impossible. “Have the Corrupted ever found the island?” she asked, steadying herself on the wobbling rocks. Blix landed on her shoulder and outstretched his wings, as though he thought it would help balance her.
“Of course,” Mara said. She reached the end of the rock wall and planted her feet on a small plot of land already an inch submerged beneath the returning tide. “We took it from them.”
“What?” R’lyeh blurted out as she followed Vrana off the wall and onto the plot.
“Many years ago, our people from Traesk followed a group of Corrupted, the Forlorn, here,” Mara said, the ocean, which was up to her knees now, pulling at her like a persistent child. “The sea wasn’t so restless then; boats could travel it if their captains were smart enough. In those days, ‘keeping the balance’ was a phrase too often taken advantage of by some of our more bloodthirsty kin. They spotted a group of Corrupted carting off captives to this island, and they followed, though it wasn’t to set anyone free.”
Mara beckoned the Raven and the Octopus over to the edge of the plot, where a series of smoothed boulders protruded from the water. Following the Centipede, Vrana pulled herself up onto one of the massive rocks, growling as her fingers ran through bird shit.
“Give me your hands,” Vrana said, lifting R’lyeh up onto the boulder. She ripped a piece of seaweed from the girl’s goose-pimpled leg. “Are you okay?” R’lyeh was wavering, and looking like something the sea had spat out in disgust.
Mara continued onwards to the next boulder, unaware or uncaring that her companions were lagging behind. “The Corrupted had formed a colony on the island,” she shouted as a wave crashed into the rock, drenching her. “It seemed as though they’d been living there ever since the end of the Trauma.”
“Did the watchers kill them?” R’lyeh asked as she, again, accepted Vrana’s help onto the second boulder.
“Yes,” Mara said as she hopped onto the third and final boulder. “The Corrupted living on Lacuna were entirely self-sufficient, but what they could not cultivate quickly enough was life. They kept coming to the mainland for offerings, sacrifices to be given up to their lord. Why is that? Why is it that humans always seem to think the best way to get on their god’s good side is to rub his nose in the corpses of all his children they’ve killed?”
R’lyeh coughed and went ahead of Vrana. “Very strange,” she said without emotion. The Octopus jumped across the misty gap and landed beside Mara.
“And so our people stayed?” Vrana put her hands on her hips and leaned over the edge of the boulder, feeling her stomach sink as portions of the sea began to spiral inwards.
“It was an outpost, for a time.” Mara put her hand against the side of R’lyeh’s mask, as though she could feel her face through it. “But the ocean turned against us, so we used its anger to our advantage. We hid in its fury.”
“Did any of the Corrupted escape?” R’lyeh asked, stepping away from the Centipede. She rejoined Vrana as she leapt onto the third boulder.
Mara nodded and went to the edge of the rock. “A few, yes. They scattered to escape the ire of their god. The Forlorn was a splinter group of the Lillians, which is now known as the Holy Order of Penance. Some returned to Penance while others rejoined their brethren, the Scavengers, another Lillian splinter group, at the black tower south of Elys.”
Vrana looked to R’lyeh. Addressing Mara, she said, “I’ve seen it. When we went to Geharra…”
“Come,” Mara interrupted as she put one foot over the edge of the boulder, “we’re running out of time.”
The tide had all but returned when their feet found the last path by which they would reach Lacuna. It was a thin strip of rock and coral that could’ve easily destroyed the hull of a ship if given the opportunity. Looking back once more, Vrana saw that the mainland was a small sliver of browns and greens much farther back than the distance they’d traveled.
“Is that the island?” R’lyeh asked.
“Yes,” Vrana said, answering for Mara as she hurried her steps, each one bringing into the world another detail of the island so few even knew existed.
Lacuna was a small island guarded by a withered atoll. The trees that covered its every mile were beyond count and seemed to have prospered under the heavy rains that undoubtedly passed through there. There was no sign of civilization beyond the beach; in fact, there
didn’t appear to be any wildlife either. Vrana tried to imagine a sailor’s reaction upon reaching this place but found it difficult to determine whether it would be one of excitement or despair. At least the ocean is calmer, she remarked to herself, noticing the waves gently lapping against the shore.
“What do you think, R’lyeh?”
“Ask me when we get there,” R’lyeh said. She laughed and looked over her shoulder and then stopped where she stood, the stutter of a word trapped in her mask.
“What?” Because Vrana could not see the girl’s eyes, it took her a moment to realize that R’lyeh was not staring at her but beyond her. “What’s behind me?” she asked, noticing that Mara, too, was looking back the way they’d come.
Vrana turned around slowly as the waters continued to rise and wash over her feet. What she found standing behind her was something she was certain could not be. On the narrow ledge, out of isolation and nightmare, a flesh fiend stood. The skin that it wore was pale and wet, held in place by stones that it had stabbed through the flesh and into its body. The fiend was female, or wanted to be—two sagging breasts and a hole between its legs suggested so—and had long, stringy hair that was matted down with kelp. In its right hand, the flesh fiend held the spinal cord of some poor creature as though it were a dagger.
A sour odor rolled off the flesh fiend and entered Vrana’s mask; she took a step backward. The creature sprinted toward her, its rubbery appendages oozing a thick, black liquid, like sweat, as it went. With no room for proper footing, trying desperately to resist the call of the strengthening current, Vrana found herself teetering on the thin strip of land. The flesh fiend swung at her with the spinal cord, digging its teeth into its own lips with every pass of the bone. Vrana stumbled away, one foot after the other, waiting for an opening to strike.
“We’re out of time!” she heard Mara shout. “You have to keep moving.”
It was true: the narrow path was disappearing with every passing second. Reasoning they only had half a minute before the ocean would claim what it’d been denied, Vrana pushed the fiend back with the head of her ax, turned, and fled. She could feel the hairs stand on her neck as the hot breath of the creature fell upon her. But she didn’t look back; she kept her eyes on her feet as the waters rose past her ankles, her shins.