by Scott Hale
Bjørn raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve always watched out for her.” Aeson growled. “On Lacuna, you were on Lacuna with Adelyn and Quentin. You knew.”
“What’s that have to do with saving Vrana?” Bjørn asked, gripping the bear mask.
“It’s everything, I think.”
“Yeah.” Bjørn wheeled and rummaged through the workshop. At last, he found his drink and pressed it to his lips. Sniffing the vapors, he said, “If we talk about this, then we have to leave Caldera.”
“I want to talk to Adelyn.” Aeson stepped away, turned himself in the direction of Vrana’s house.
Bjørn shook his head. He guzzled the drink, slipped on his mask, and started smashing through his workshop, trying to get after Aeson. “No, don’t you dare, Skull Boy. That’s the last thing she wants to talk about right now.”
“You were right. You and I are going to get Vrana back.”
Aeson started across the village, Bjørn bumbling behind him.
“But if we’re going to do that, I need to know everything.”
“She can’t talk about it,” Bjørn whispered back. “You’re going to get her kicked—”
Bjørn never finished his sentence. Aeson suspected it was because the Bear wanted to have this conversation just as much as he did. With Vrana’s house pushing through the trees and surrounding buildings ahead, Aeson suddenly felt the cold touch of doubt in his gut. The whole reason he had moved so quickly out of Kistvaen was to avoid it, yet here it was, as it always had been, to make him second guess himself and his capabilities.
Could he kill someone? Aeson’s skull wasn’t something he’d earned through senseless slaughter. Like all Archivist masks, the skull he wore had been handed down to him. It was larger than a normal Corrupted skull, but since it was Victor Mors’, the last true expert of the Worms of the Earth, its size made some sense. Like Aeson’s dad had once supposedly said, to have gone into the Membrane the way that he did, Victor had to have had a head as large as his balls.
Bjørn picked up the pace behind Aeson. They hurried past the Archive; Gul and Lyre, librarians, were locking the place up as they did so. Overhead, storm clouds knitted together in the sky; behind that tenuous fabric, thunderous rumbles sounded.
Could he protect himself? Aeson could rattle off every state and country that once existed on this continent and the other one supposedly on the other side of the world. He knew about the Dread Clock and the homunculi and the rebellion Geharra had funded in the Heartland years back. If someone was able to find all the parts, he could probably build a pretty decent car, a generator, or some semblance of a gun. Yet if Bjørn put a sword in his hand—and at this point, that was inevitable—he stood a better chance of stabbing himself with it than someone else.
Aeson and Bjørn hurried past Svaya’s house, where he and the village’s messenger birds nested. Ahead, clear across the northern path, there was Adelyn’s. The home stood out amongst those that surrounded it because Vrana’s mother had let her garden, both above ground and underground, go. Plants, poisonous and pleasing, wrapped around the property; they had grown over the walls, across the roof; windows were nearly covered, and there were holes in the yard from where the roots in the basement had burst through. Like Aeson and Bjørn, she had closed herself off from the rest of the world with things that could hurt others as much as they could hurt her.
As they approached the front door, doubt’s last question forced itself into Aeson’s mind. Could he save Vrana? It wasn’t a matter of whether or not it was possible to save her. He had to believe that it could be done. It was a matter of whether or not he was right person to do it. And if he wasn’t, what the hell kind of a boyfriend did that make him? Could he even admit if he wasn’t? What would she think if—
The front door crept open. Adelyn stepped out from behind it. She was unmasked. Her hair was the color of dead leaves, and her ends had curled in the humidity. She was wearing the apron she always wore when she worked with potions. Now that Aeson was thinking about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her dressed in anything else. Adelyn’s eyes were red, too, but again, he couldn’t remember the last time they hadn’t been.
“Do my eyes deceive me?” Adelyn’s chapped lips worked themselves into a small smile. “What are you two doing here darkening my doorstep?”
“Can we talk inside?” Aeson asked. He reached into his pocket to make sure the birth registry was still there.
Adelyn scrutinized Aeson, said, “Sure,” and stepped aside.
Aeson and Bjørn filed into the house. Immediately, they were greeted by a heavy smell of various mixtures and concoctions. Adelyn’s house—it was easier to call it Adelyn’s than it was to call it Vrana’s—wasn’t large. There was a dining room, a living room, and two bedrooms—hers and Vrana’s. In the past, Adelyn did her work under the house, but now that she was alone, it seemed she had given up on that. Now, she was making potions and growing plants in every room; every room except for Vrana’s, which she kept sealed shut, as if it were some ancient tomb filled with priceless treasures.
“Here,” Adelyn said, guiding them into the dining room.
Aeson stopped in the doorway of the dining room and exchanged glances with Bjørn. The table and the shelves were completely covered in flower petals and roots. The pantry had been raided, too; where there had once been food, there were now pots and rows of multi-colored vials.
“There’s still a bit of Reprieve and Starry-Eye lingering in the air.” Adelyn pulled out the chairs around the table and gestured for them to sit. “So if you get high while you’re here, you’re welcome.”
“Great,” Bjørn said, taking a seat; the chair squealed under his weight.
Aeson’s gaze lingered on his chair. The back of it was covered in the thorns from the Bite bush Adelyn had planted underneath the table.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, pulling out another chair. “Need to trim that bush back. Keeps spreading like it owns the place.”
Aeson nodded, said, “Thanks,” and took a seat.
“So—” Adelyn plopped down into a chair, “—what’s up, men?”
Aeson took a deep breath, filled his lungs with what was left of the Reprieve and Starry-Eye in the air, and slipped off his mask. He laid the skull on the table and opened his mouth to say—
“He knows,” Bjørn said, gruffly. “Elders told him about Vrana and Lacuna.”
Adelyn took the news like a punch to the gut. Her neck snapped back. She curled over and dug her elbows into the tops of her legs. Her hair swayed across her mouth; she bit on its tips and sucked them.
Aeson felt like an asshole; he didn’t want to see Adelyn this way. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
She waved off his apology. “No, no. You’re our Archivist, and you meant… mean so much to her. You should know. You should have known. Why did they tell you now?”
“Anguis took me to the spellweavers. The Witch is using Vrana—”
Adelyn’s eyes grew wide and wet.
“—to contact the other Children of Lacuna. I’m sorry.”
Adelyn wiped her face. “Keep going.”
“Vrana has the necklace from the Blue Worm. The Witch must be using that and Vrana’s ability to contact those who were born on the island. It sounds like the Witch is trying to gather the Children for something.”
Bjørn slammed his fist into the table. He ripped off his bear mask and dropped it on the floor. His face was so twisted with rage that it almost looked permanent.
“The elders are sending me to get her back,” Aeson said, trying to sound brave. “I have a registry of some of the Children and their last known locations. I think that if I find enough of them, I can somehow get to Vrana; somehow figure out where she is and how to get her back. Bjørn’s coming with me, too.”
This being the first he had heard of it, the Bear stared at Aeson, dumbstruck. He nodded; a little of the anger left his scarred face.
Adelyn closed her eyes. Her ha
nd stretched across the table, through the roots and leaves, and closed on his. She squeezed it every time a tear slid down her cheek.
“I just… I need to know more. The Witch chose her because she knew what Vrana could do. Anything, Adelyn, will help.”
“Okay,” she said. “Yeah.” She squeezed his hand. “Holy Child, it’s been so—”
“Anointed One,” Bjørn corrected. “He’s the real ‘Holy Child’ now, Adi.”
Adelyn smiled and ignored him. “It’s been so long since I’ve talked about this. Give me a minute to get my bearings. But, Aeson?”
“Hmm?”
“You have to promise me you’ll still love her. And us.”
“Of course. Nothing could stop that.”
Bjørn rubbed Adelyn’s shoulder.
Adelyn sighed and kissed his fingers. “I wasn’t always like this,” she started, “Caldera-bound, I mean. Before… Vrana, I was an explorer. I went everywhere. If it had a name on a map, I was there, and if it didn’t, well, even better. For the longest time, Mara was my partner-in-crime. She was obsessed with the Corrupted and trying to fit in with them. So as soon as I was initiated, the both of us took off. We would write the elders, let them know when tasks and missions were completed, but basically we were—” she laughed, “—on our own. Which, if you knew us back then, was a terrible idea. We were stupid. So stupid. Bjørn can attest to that.”
Bjørn nodded. “I had never seen two women come through Caldera as beat-up as they had been back then. You would have thought they lost every fight they got into. And the guys they chose? You’re a twig, Skull Boy, but you got brains. Adelyn, here, wasn’t big on brains but what was in between—”
Adelyn blushed, wiped her nose. “Being a young Night Terror back then, before all this shit with Eldrus and Penance and the Worms, you felt immortal. Took what you want. Went where you wanted. Killed who you wanted.”
Aeson felt a pang of hurt in his heart as he watched Adelyn dreamily reminisce about her past. The life she had now wasn’t the one she clearly wanted.
“I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat, sat up in her seat. “I’ve had to dance around the topic so long that I don’t even know how to begin.”
“With Quentin,” Bjørn said.
“Quentin. Vrana’s father. I met him when I was twenty. He was from Traesk. Mara and I were in the area, and we stopped in the village for the night. Quentin was… Quentin was a lot like you, Aeson.”
“A dweeb, a nerd. A twiggy bookworm,” Bjørn said, grinning.
“Sounds like the perfect guy,” Aeson snapped back.
“He was,” Adelyn said. “He was an herbalist. Everything I ever learned about healing, I learned from him. Anyways, Mara and I came strolling into Traesk one evening, and there he was, in the fields, trying to talk to a few wisps about why they always helped the harvester grow the crops.”
Aeson leaned forward. “Like the ones downstairs in your garden?”
“Exact same ones,” Adelyn said. “They followed us here after… He never did manage to figure how to talk to them, but they must have liked him, since they pretty much followed him everywhere he went.
“So anyways, Mara and I were acting like asses, harassing people for a place to stay. Quentin comes over and offers us his place. So we stayed there the night. Mara tried to sleep with him to pay him back—that’s how she handled her business, usually—but he told her no thank you and stayed outside the whole night, instead.”
“And that’s when she knew she loved him,’ Bjørn said.
“Hey, yeah, kind of.” Adelyn sighed. “I mean, he didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, but he seemed so calm and sure of himself, but not in a cocky way like this brute over here.”
Bjørn shrugged and started to scratch his ass.
“We left the next day, but every time Mara and I were in the area, I made an effort to visit him. After a while, the visits got more frequent, and I stayed longer than I planned. After a few months, we were together, and after a year and a half, we wanted a child.
“We tried for a long time. Back then, the Night Terrors knew about the fertility issues, but it was one of those things that happened to everyone else, but not you, you know?”
Aeson nodded. “Was that about the time Mara took over operations on Lacuna?”
“No, that was more recently. At the time, she just worked there. Anyways, the more I saw of Quentin, the less I saw of her. I didn’t realize just how much favor she had with the elders; that is, until she showed up in Traesk one day while I was with Quentin, and I told her about our pregnancy problem.
“Quentin didn’t necessarily calm me down, but I wasn’t so stupid when I was around him. He let me be me, and I let him be him. I think… yeah, I think he wanted a child more than I did.” She let out a slow exhale, and then said, “I can’t believe I just said that. What the hell kind of a mother am I?”
“A good one,” Bjørn said.
Adelyn ignored him and continued. “Mara was happy for us. Even though she would never admit it, I think she wanted what we had, too. So out of nowhere, against probably every warning and threat the elders gave her, she told us about Lacuna and what they were doing on the island.”
“Everything?” Aeson asked.
She shivered. “Well, no, not everything. She left out some of the… grittier details. But here was an island I had no idea even existed, and here was a way to give Quentin a child.”
Chewing on his lip, Bjørn said, “Too good to be true.”
“Was it?” Adelyn shrugged. “I don’t know if it was. I think it was exactly what it was, and nothing more. But we thought about Mara’s offer for a few weeks, and then when she came back to Traesk, we told her yes.
“On our way to Nachtla, we ran into Bjørn. I think Mara always had a crush on him—”
“Who doesn’t?” Bjørn chirped.
“—because she invited him onto the island, too.”
“What were you doing up there?” Aeson asked.
“Fighting on the Divide,” Bjørn said. “Penance was smuggling spies across the river into the Heartland. I was on my way back to Caldera. First time I ever met Adi’s squeeze. Then Mara told me they were going across the Widening Gyre to an island hidden inside it. Tried to talk them out of it, then Adelyn told me the circumstances, and their trip didn’t sound so stupid anymore.”
“It’s good that you came with us,” Adelyn said, darkly.
Bjørn grunted. He looked into his lap and went silent.
“There was a passage outside Nachtla the spellweavers had created that transported us from the beach and onto the island. I was so overwhelmed by the place I had almost forgotten why we were there.
“We got to the village, Lacuna, and everything changed. Faolan and Nuctea were there. Quentin and I still hadn’t fully decided what we were going to do, but Mara freaked out. She thought the elders were going to kill her for bringing us there. And I think they were going to. Before they had even said hello, Faolan and Nuctea had their knives out and were bearing down on us. But then Mara told them she had brought us there for the fertility project. And we went along with it, Quentin, Bjørn, and I, because what else could we do?”
“They would have killed us,” Bjørn said, still staring into his lap. “I have no doubt in my mind. They would have killed us.”
“Quentin and I stayed up that whole night talking about what we should do, but in the end, it didn’t matter. He wanted a child. And I did, too. I did. I know it sounds like I didn’t. Maybe not as much as him, but… Anyways, it was our best chance to get pregnant, and like Bjørn said, we didn’t really have a choice at that point.”
Aeson swallowed hard and asked, “When did… you find out about the B-Blue Worm?”
“Mara, Faolan, and Nuctea led Quentin and I deep into the island. They said there was a creature on the island they mined resources from, and as long as I was near it, the creature, I would be able to have a child. Of course, Quentin, being the herbalist, was askin
g every question he could about what this ‘resource’ was, but the elders wouldn’t tell him anything. We were there doing things we weren’t supposed to be doing, seeing things we weren’t supposed to be seeing. No one owed us any explanation.
“They left us in this huge cave inside the island. It hurt to be there. There was this immense pressure, and the cave was covered in this kind of rust-colored grass. There were other people down there, too. They kept coming out of these shacks.”
Aeson cocked his head.
“Yeah. Shacks. Tons of them. All across the cave. Four walls, no roof, dirt floor. And there were all these people. Night Terrors. Corrupted. All these people were down there in those shacks having sex. It was mechanical, like they were clocking in for work. Between all the pressure and the constant moaning, I thought I was going to go insane. But Mara said this was how it was, and Quentin seemed determine to see it through.
“We got our shack and our poor excuse for a bed inside. There was a—” Adelyn laughed, “—pool of water in the floor of the shack. It looked creamy, milky; and the way it smelled… I can’t even describe it. Makes my mouth tense up just thinking about it.”
“It’s alright, Adi,” Bjørn said, “if you need a break.”
She shook her head. “We made it work, our accommodations. I kept telling myself I had been in worse situations, but that was bullshit. I’ve never done something so… just dirty. Degrading, really.
“I’ll spare you the details, but we did what we had to do. They asked us to bathe in that ‘milk’ every few hours, so we did that, too. You know about the flesh fiends, right? Well, they were there, too. We could hear them being born in the cave. From the moment they were born until they were taken away or killed, all they did was scream.
“Somehow, we did fall asleep. I woke up a few hours later. And I… oh, how do I put it? There was something wet between my legs. Then I saw that the bed was covered in that milky water, and it ran from the bed to the pool in the ground.
“Before I could wake Quentin, I passed out. When I woke up again, Mara was there, talking to him. She told him we had to stay down there for three days. We had to… try as hard as we could. She brought us food and water and then locked us in. We probably could have busted down the door, but I trusted Mara, more than anyone else, and I knew we were tempting fate being there with the elders nearby. And Quentin was so determined… so we stayed, and we tried… as hard as we could.