Or still here around us, Vale thought.
"It wants us to go," Vale said, smiling grimly. "I think not. I think we'll stay for a while."
Tash nodded, sweat on her brow. "Just a short while."
They kept walking until they reached a dilapidated wall. A doorway led into a dark chamber, smaller than the grand hall they had entered. An old table stood here, covered with scrolls, the parchment so rotted it crumbled when Vale touched it. Sand rose around the table's legs. A skeleton still sat in a giltwood chair, its clothes rotted down to the buttons and buckles, and a beard still clung to its skull. No wing bones; this one hadn't been a seraph.
"Old Captain Bony here has seen better days," Vale said. "Wonder what tales he'd have to tell."
Tash looked at the skeleton and grimaced. "He'd tell us where to find the chest, I wager. I—" She started. "Vale, did you do that?"
He tilted his head. "Do what?"
"Grab my arm."
He shook his head. "I'm only holding your hand."
"Something grabbed me." She spun around, dagger lashing. "Somebody is here with us."
Vale looked around the captain's chamber. Nothing but the table, the scrolls, the skeleton in the seat. He lifted his lantern, banishing the shadows from the corners, the ceiling, the floor. Nothing.
"Nobody is here," he whispered.
Tash cringed. "He's here. I can feel him. I can feel his breath against my neck. I can feel his presence here. He's behind me." Her voice was a trembling whisper. "He hates us, Vale. He hates us so much."
"Who, Tash?"
"The captain. All of them! They're all here." She closed her eyes, taking a shuddering breath. "So much hate."
Vale groaned and squeezed her hand. "Tash, listen to me. Don't be frightened. They can't hurt us anymore. If they're here, they're nothing but echoes, just whispers, just spirits still clinging to old bones. But the danger in Tofet is alive and real, and it's what we must fight."
She nodded. "Let's keep exploring."
They kept searching the chamber, and when Vale kicked aside sand, he found a wooden trapdoor. The wood was so old and damp the iron lock tore out when Vale tugged it, and the trapdoor swung open. A staircase plunged down into shadows.
Tash grimaced. "I don't suppose you think the Chest of Plenty might be up on the deck, resting in the moonlight."
"I've never heard of treasures kept up on deck, Tash."
She gulped and nodded. "You go first."
Holding his axe and lantern, Vale took a step down, testing the staircase with his weight. The wood creaked but held, and he took another step. Tash followed, and they descended down a narrow staircase. Sand covered the stairs, mold spread along the walls, and the waves whispered outside, flowing across the outer hull. In the murmur, Vale thought he heard other sounds: the clanging of swords, the dull thunder of cannons firing, wind hitting sails, and many voices rising together, then screaming, endless screams, the sound so muffled he wasn't sure he wasn't imagining it.
"They're still drowning," Tash whispered. "Again and again, they're crashing. Do you hear them, Vale? So many lives lost."
He winced. "All right, so maybe there are a few ghosts here. But they can't harm us, Tash. No more than reflections in a mirror can leap out at you. They're just reflections on the beach."
He kept descending the staircase, heading toward a dark doorway, when eyes flashed below.
A creature emerged from the shadows, bloated and gray, like a waterlogged corpse, only half in this world. It unfurled from the cavern below like a mollusk from a shell. Alabaster claws reached up, and a jaw unhooked, lined with teeth, revealing organs that gleamed and pulsed within its gullet. Its eyes shone white, then became black pools, expanding, sucking in the light, and the creature screamed.
Vale did not hesitate.
With a wordless cry, he charged downstairs and swung down his axe.
The blade passed through smoke. The creature vanished, leaving only a cackling echo. The walls creaked, and strands of frost spread across them. The sounds of the ancient battle faded.
"Rephaim live here," Tash whispered, face pale. "These are not usual ghosts, Vale. I've read about them in the old scrolls. Most ghosts are souls who don't realize they died, souls trapped in this world. But not rephaim. Rephaim made it into the afterlife . . . and were banished, too cruel and hateful to rest in peace." She winced and touched her temples. "They're so hateful, Vale."
"And easy to kill, apparently." Vale nodded at his axe. "If you like, you can wait outside."
She shook her head. "No. You need my help down there." She looked down at the dark passageway the creature had emerged from, and she shuddered. "Let's go."
The lantern flickering before them, they stepped into the lower chamber. No moonlight shone through portholes here, and the lantern's light seemed so weak, barely piercing this darkness. Vale could see only several feet ahead, and even then the vision was smudged. Shadows lurched with every step, leaping, swooping, dancing around him. The air was so cold he thought it could extinguish the flame.
"Whole lot of junk down here," he whispered.
As he stepped forward, shining the light from side to side, he revealed piles of objects. Sacks hung from hooks. Jagged swords hung on a wall. Cannonballs piled up in the corner, and the bones of both fish and men lay across the sandy floor. Rusted chains coiled like cobras. Countless chests and crates lay everywhere, coated in grime.
"More like plenty of chests than a Chest of Plenty," he muttered.
Tash groaned. "You've already told that joke." She knelt, lifted a seashell, and nodded. "We're going to have to test them, one by one. I'll put my seashell into the chests. Whichever one duplicates it is our winner. Keep that axe handy!"
She stepped toward a pile of crates. Their wood was so rotted Vale was surprised they didn't fall apart. He raised his axe, prepared to slice through any other apparition that approached. In his other hand, he held his lantern.
Gingerly, Tash tugged open the lid on one crate, then yelped and fell back a step. Vale's heart leaped into a gallop.
"What is it?" He prepared to swing his axe.
Tash pointed. Vale brought his lantern down to reveal a collection of crabs fleeing out of the chest.
"Maybe this is it," Tash said. "Maybe it duplicated one crab into many." She placed her seashell into the emptied crate, closed the lid, then opened it again. Another crab escaped.
Vale blew out his breath. "Wonderful. You found the amazing seashell-to-crab chest. Useful when you're hungry for crab legs. Not very useful for freeing a slave nation, unless you plan to defeat the seraphim with a plague of crabs."
She sighed, retrieved her seashell, and approached another wooden box. This one was large as a coffin, carved of wood that had once been ornate. A rusty lock held it shut but fell apart at a tug from Tash.
"I'll try this one," she said and tugged open the lid.
Clawed white hands reached out from the box, grabbed her, and yanked her inside.
Tash vanished into the shadows.
For an instant, Vale could only stare in shock.
He gave a strangled yelp, leaped forward, and reached into the chest. His hands sank into nothing. Heart hammering, he shone his light into the crate. It was empty.
"Tash!" he cried. His pulse pounded in his ears. "Tash!"
Laughter answered him, coming from all around, spinning in circles. Countless voices were laughing—some deep and guttural, others shrill. They surrounded him, dancing an invisible dance. Vale spun around, raising his lantern, trying to see them, but he saw only shadows.
"Where is she?" Vale shouted. "Bring her back or I'll burn this ship down!"
The laughter rose louder, and he could see them, just glimpses—shadows, streaks of light, faces appearing and vanishing. A host of the undead, mocking him. Vale swung his lantern around him.
"Return her to me!" he demanded. "Or this ship will burn."
"Then she will burn too!" rose a shriek.
The voices chanted together. "Burn her, burn her!"
"Show yourselves!" Vale demanded. "Or are you cowards who hide in shadows? Face me."
In a ring around him, they appeared.
Vale inhaled sharply between his teeth.
The creatures creaked forward, raining dust. Skeletons, draped in scraps of ragged leather and rusted iron, their jaws unhinged in lurid grins. Crabs bustled in their ribcages, and barnacles clung to their bones. Wisps of pale light wrapped around them, holding the bones aloft, forming the vague shape of flesh—diseased skin, leering eyes, bloated faces. Their bodies had rotted centuries ago. Banished from the afterlife, the souls had returned to find nothing but old bones to nest in.
"Where did you take her?" Vale said.
Their jaws opened and closed, and the rephaim cackled. They raised old blades and muskets, and upon their rusted shields and breastplates, Vale saw faded paint forming red spirals.
He inhaled sharply.
They're Vir Requis! he realized. Minions of the Cadigus regime!
He knew the tales of Cadigus. All Vir Requis did, even enslaved in Tofet. Not many liked telling those tales, but still the whispers had passed from parent to child. Stories of evil Vir Requis, murderous, foul, Vir Requis who had stained their kingdom, who had dethroned the Aeternum family and created a reign of terror before losing their power in Requiem's great civil war. And here they stood before him! The rotted bodies of those traitors, risen again.
"She dances now in our halls!" the rephaim said, speaking together in dozens of voices. "You see but a shell of our kingdom, living one. But our realm is vast. And she dances for us. She dances!"
Their light flared, blinding, green and white and blue, and Vale saw it. Just a glimpse. A vision that shook the ship, that made him fall to his knees. In the light, he saw the ship restored, once more sailing upon dark seas. Hundreds of men filled it, clad in black armor, the red spirals upon their chests. Hundreds of other ships sailed around them, and dark castles rose on tors. Beneath stormy clouds flew thousands of dragons, roaring out their fire. The empire of Cadigus, traitors to Requiem, lingering forever in this mirror world.
And Tash—Tash among them.
"Tash!" he cried, reaching out to her.
He saw her upon a deck, again wearing many jewels, dancing like a wick in a flame, spinning, leaping, swaying, clad in black silk, tears on her cheeks, the haze of booze and spice in her eyes.
"Tash!" he cried, leaped toward her, tried to grab her . . . but she faded away, and the light dimmed, and Vale was back in the belly of the ship.
Once more the rephaim surrounded him. Their luminous, ethereal faces twisted atop their skulls, some snarling, others grinning. They stepped closer, raising their chipped blades.
"She dances for us. But we have no use for you, living one. Your soul we banish, and your bones we'll watch fade to dust."
A rusted sword swung his way.
Vale parried with his axe.
The blades slammed together, raining rust.
"Hear me, sons of Requiem!" Vale shouted. "Stop this. I know who you are. I—"
With a hiss, another undead warrior lashed a sword his way. Vale leaped back, swinging his axe. Another sword swung and slammed into Vale's armor, chipping the steel rings, knocking the breath out of him. A bearded warrior, an octopus nesting in its rib cage, swung down a hammer, and the heavy iron hit Vale's shoulder. He roared in pain.
"She will dance and he will rot!" they cried. "We will watch the crabs feast."
"Vir Requis, stop this!" Vale said. "I know your name. You are warriors of Requiem, soldiers of Cadigus. I am one of your number!"
They laughed, moving closer, lashing their weapons. "We care not. We fought Vir Requis, we slew Vir Requis! We fight only for ourselves. You are no brother of ours. The living are our enemy."
One of the rephaim swung a chain. The iron links slammed into Vale, most hitting his armor, but one link rose to hit his cheek. He cried out and fell. When a sword lashed down, he raised his axe, barely parrying. His lantern fell and extinguished; only the light of the rephaim now lit the ship.
"But you still fought for Requiem!" Vale shouted. "I know your story. I've heard of your pride, your vengeance. You fought to make Requiem an empire, even if you needed to slay the old king, to betray the old dynasty, to kill all those who opposed you."
Rage flared in their eyes, blasting out with white light. Their faces twisted and their shrieks rose, creaking the ship, cracking slats of wood on the walls.
"The old Aeternum kings were cowards!" they cried. "Weak, sniveling, pathetic—worms who let Requiem fall to ruin. Betray them? They betrayed all of Requiem with their wretchedness. The Aeternum dynasty had us kneeling in the dirt before griffins, phoenixes, demons, wyverns. We soldiers of Cadigus made Requiem strong!"
Vale shoved himself to his feet, axe swinging, knocking them back. "Yet Requiem has fallen! You could not save her. The children of Requiem now kneel in the dirt, enslaved to the seraphim. We wear the iron collars of slavery." Vale tugged at his iron collar. "Millions of Vir Requis are dead. Half a million of our kind, chained and beaten, now serve the enemy while Requiem lies in ruin."
Their cries rose to a deafening pitch. Crates shattered. The walls cracked. Slats of rotten wood rained from the ceiling.
"The living one lies! We built an empire to last an eternity. We hail Cadigus! Requiem will never fall."
"Requiem fell!" Vale shouted. "I came here to save her, to find a treasure to give her hope, to raise Requiem against the cruel seraphim who enslave her children. While you sing and dance in your ship, your descendants languish in chains. Help us, warriors of Requiem. Grant me the Chest of Plenty, so that we may create many weapons to fight the enemy." He raised his fist. "For Requiem!"
"You lie, you lie!" they cried. "Requiem will never fall."
Vale shook his head sadly. For over a thousand years, these poor rebels had hidden here, rotting away, unaware of all that had passed, forever guarding their vainglory.
Perhaps they are slaves just as much as we are.
"I speak truth," Vale said. "If you still have a doorway to the afterlife from which you were banished, if only a keyhole, gaze through it and hear the whispers of the fallen. A hundred thousand slaves were slain only days ago. Seek them. Speak to them. Hear the cry of dragons."
The rephaim stared at him, then vanished.
Darkness, complete and enveloping, filled the belly of the shipwreck.
Silence fell. Vale could hear nothing but his breath and the barely audible whisper of waves outside.
Were they gone? Had they fled in consternation at his words?
Tash . . .
His eyes stung.
"Tash!" he cried. "Rephaim, return her! Sons of Requiem, return now and—"
With blazing, white, blinding light, the rephaim reappeared.
Their spirits now shone so brightly they nearly drowned out the bones within. Their eyes blazed like smelters, white and searing gold, casting out steam. The fallen rebels of Requiem raised their heads and cried out in anguish, shrieks that snapped planks of wood, cracked the rotting crates, shattered bottles and jars within. The shipwreck rattled madly, and Vale fell onto his back, and it seemed that the entire beach shook. Holes opened above, water gushed into the chamber, and green light flared upward, crashing through the shipwreck like the horns of an underground predator rising through prey's flesh. Above he could see the sky alight.
"Requiem fell!" the rephaim cried, voices torn in agony. "Requiem fell!"
Vale nodded, head lowered. "I'm sorry, friends."
"Friends?" they shrieked. "We are no friends of pathetic slaves, collared, weak. We served General Cadigus! We are strong, proud, noble warriors who fought our enemies, not submitted to collars and chains." Their light blasted out, shattering more planks of wood, and their faces twis
ted into grotesque masks, the jaws opening impossibly wide, the eyes burning.
Vale pushed himself to his feet as the shipwreck shook. "I do not submit!" He tugged at his collar. "I fight. Even collared, I fight. Tash fights with me. We slew seraphim. We came here to find a weapon—to find the Chest of Plenty, to duplicate a key that would open half a million collars, that would let Requiem fly again. But you stole Tash! You hide the Chest of Plenty! If the last light of Requiem fades, her death will be upon you, sons of Cadigus."
"He lies, he lies!" they said. "We fought for Requiem. You let her fall. The blood of Requiem was pure! Lesser heirs weakened her, let Requiem fall to rot, to disease, to slavery."
"My blood is not weak!" Vale shouted into the storm. Winds raged around him. Waves pummeled him. The light seared him. "I slew seraphim. I died for Requiem, as you have died. I rose to the starlit halls. But I returned to life! The priestess Issari, our mother, gave me life again so that I may fight. I left the afterlife as you did. But I do not cower in a shipwreck, dreaming of old glory. I fight! Will you fight with us, sons of Requiem?"
They screamed. They stormed around him, and again Vale was there—in a sea full of ships, dancers on the decks, thousands of soldiers singing, chanting, banging drums, waving swords, and Tash dancing around them, her silks fluttering, jewels shining upon her, her eyes glazed with spice—the endless dance of afterlife on the dark seas. The dragons coiled above.
"We will fight!" they cried. "We fight always for Requiem. Requiem! May our wings forever find your sky."
The sea rose and fell, roared skyward, collapsed, and the ships sank, and cannons blasted, and everywhere shone that light, fading to darkness . . . shadows . . . silence . . . and the whisper of waves.
Vale lay on the sand.
He coughed, took a deep breath, raised his head, and looked around him.
The shipwreck had collapsed. Slats of wood, shattered balustrades, chipped masts, rotting sails, rusting cannons, chains, an anchor—all lay strewn across the beach. The eerie light had faded and the moon shone above.
A moan sounded at his side. "Vale?"
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