by Megan Cutler
Dream voices whispered in her ears, but they no longer sang or chanted. They spoke now of hopelessness, desolation and despair. Give up, they murmured every time she lifted her foot. What's the point? they demanded as her toes caught against another bulging rock. Nothing matters, they insisted as she shifted her weight to start the cycle all over.
Surrender.
The next time her toe caught in a crack, she couldn't catch herself. She fell to her knees and pitched forward. The ground rushed up to meet her.
Kaylie coughed, choking on dust. Her temples throbbed and her vision blurred. She tried to move her arms but they didn't respond. Even wriggling her toes cost more effort than she had energy to spare.
Something jostled her body. Hands pressed to her shoulders. A voice murmured close to her ear, but the howling wind stole the words away.
A heartbeat passed before the hands shook her again. “Get up, Kaylie.” Was that Arimand? “We have to keep going!”
It was Arimand, but his voice came from the far end of a long tunnel. She understood his urgency, but couldn't make her body work.
Why get up? the other voices whispered. You'll only fall again. Where will you go anyway?
“We have to get her up,” Eselt's hazy rumble reached her ears.
Someone lifted her arm and applied gentle pressure to her wrist, followed by a light tug. Her body seemed to be made of wet clay, easy to mold but too damp to hold its shape.
“Kaylie, can you hear me?” Arimand again.
She moved her lips, trying to force her dry tongue to form words. She managed a small mewl, but nothing more.
The activity surrounding her seemed to cease. Voices murmured, but they might have been the dream entities encouraging her lethargy. Had her companions abandoned her?
“I'll carry her,” Arimand said at last, his voice cutting through the miasma which mired her mind. “Help me lift her.”
Looming shadows surrounded her. Some resolved into recognizable shapes, others remained nebulous. She didn't know how many people it took to lift her, but relief washed over her as she left the ground, as if a great weight fell free of her shoulders. She might have been able to stand again, but how long could she stay on her feet?
Arimand pressed his back to her chest. “Do you think you can hold on? Just wrap your arms around my neck.” He bent forward as other arms lifted her higher.
Warmth chased the numbness from her limbs. It was Arimand's warmth. This tiny action seemed manageable. Kaylie wrapped her arms around Arimand's neck, careful not to squeeze too tight, and entwined her fingers to keep them in place.
Arimand took a few tentative steps forward. Kaylie slid down his back and he paused to adjust, swinging her weight a little higher. Kaylie laid her head against his back as he moved, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
Around them, the shuffling resumed. How many others would fall off their feet? How many would fail to rise? Why should they carry her when they would abandon the others? What made her special?
The world beyond Arimand's back remained a featureless blur. She heard scrapes and murmurs, occasionally aware that shambling figures had drawn close to her haven. She thought, perhaps, she should try to make sense of her surroundings, but it all seemed disgustingly pointless.
Arimand plowed forward, his pace steady, though he occasionally rocked on his feet. Somehow, he managed to avoid the cracks and crags that had hounded her. They didn't move fast, but they kept pace with the rest of the group.
They might have walked for days before Eselt called a halt. He wouldn't allow anyone to sleep, for fear none would rise again.
Kaylie spent the break with her head in Arimand's lap. Neither of them spoke. Kaylie couldn't find words to express her gratitude, and Arimand needed to catch his breath.
The fog clouding her thoughts lifted while she lay at his side. She wriggled her fingers and toes, bent her arms and legs, and couldn't remember why it had been so difficult a few hours before.
All their suffering, all their losses would be for naught if she allowed their quest to fail. She needed to reach the exit, if only to give meaning to those sacrifices.
When it was time to resume their trek, Arimand helped her to her feet, then turned to present his back.
“I think I can walk,” she protested. Whatever force dragged her to the ground seemed to have dissipated.
Arimand glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “I don't want you to fall again. Let me carry you until you can get a proper night's rest. If you feel all right after that, we'll forget this ever happened.”
She wanted to protest, but how long could she keep that force at bay if it returned? Relenting, Kaylie crawled onto Arimand's back, shifting her position whenever she thought it would help.
Their trek lasted several endless hours before Eselt decided to pause. Arimand never complained, bearing her weight with silent determination.
While Eselt assigned watches, Arimand collapsed in an exhausted heap. Settling beside him, Kaylie scooped his head into her lap. He fell asleep moments later. She brushed the dirty hair away from his face, noting his peaceful expression. His determination bolstered him, even in sleep.
While the clan walked, Kaylie would have given anything to sleep. Now that they rested, her mind raced. She watched Arimand a long time before she gently eased his head to the ground and curled up beside him. What little sleep she claimed was restless and fitful.
Despite her exhaustion, she resolved to walk the next day. Every time her determination wavered, Arimand offered an encouraging word or held her hand, and she found the strength to persevere.
Some days were worse than others. When she stumbled, Arimand offered his strength without hesitation. On the days he carried her, Arimand passed out as soon as he relieved himself of his burden.
One night, as she drew the midnight hair away from his face, Kaylie murmured, “I have something to tell you.”
Arimand didn't answer, already asleep. A light shake was all it would take to wake him, but she refused to rob him of even a moment's rest. Instead, she watched him sleep. It had become a nightly ritual.
Before she curled up beside him, Kaylie leaned forward. Her fiery hair fell across Arimand's face like a veil. She set her lips beside his ear and whispered the message, though she knew he wouldn't hear.
Chapter Sixteen: The River Cocytus
As one, the shambling remains of Clan Vorilia collapsed on the shore of the river Cocytus. Several had fallen prey to the same forces that weighed Kaylie along the trek. Some had been dragged onward by friends, but others had to be left behind.
The babbling Thail was not among them, Arimand noted with chagrin. The man seemed strangely immune to the pull, and his constant chatter was beginning to wear. Most of it was nonsense but, every now and then, the man would make a snide comment about Arimand's knowledge of their journey's route, and no amount of patient explanation seemed to appease him.
Several exhausted travelers wriggled on their stomachs to the river's edge. After depositing Kaylie on the moist earth, Arimand lost control of his body. He lay on a cool, damp patch of shore, fighting to keep his heavy eyelids open. Every morning it had grown more difficult to rouse the men. Even he had despaired of ever reaching the Cocytus.
Cool water splashed his face and he parted his lips, hoping to soothe his raw throat. Before he could identify his benefactor, a whirlpool of sorrow swept him away. His body grew impossibly heavy. His bones were made of lead. Even the thought of lifting a hand seemed cruelly unbearable. His heart ached, throbbing with pain of a sort he couldn't identify. His throat closed. Tears flowed from his eyes.
For a long time he lay there, gasping to keep air in his lungs, waiting for the melancholy to ease. Finally, his vision cleared and he blinked the last tears from his eyes. The restriction lifted from his chest. The weight lifted from his limbs.
A spot of warmth blossomed against his forehead. Fingers moved, drawing sweat-matted hair away from his face. Concern clouded Kaylie's eye
s as she leaned over him. Despite the grief etched into her once-glad features, she still possessed that otherworldly light of vitality. It clung to her like a beacon in the darkness, guiding him back to himself.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Arimand nodded. “I didn't think it'd be much different from the Acheron.”
“No one expected it to be that bad.”
“Perhaps we should have,” Arimand muttered as he pulled himself to his feet. The effort cost more than he cared to admit. Kaylie caught his wrist, but he patted her hand to ease her grip. “I'm fine,” he insisted. She relented and he scanned the crowd.
Around him, men lay curled with their knees against their chests, sobbing. Others moved among them, patting shoulders and murmuring reassurance. They must not have sipped from the river after seeing its affect on their fellows.
Thail was chief among them, flitting from man to man, slapping each heartily while he babbled about strength. His eyes met Arimand's for a moment and narrowed to slits. His lips drew into a snarl, like a dog about to charge. Instead, he turned deliberately on his heel and gave the next sobbing man an extra hard thump.
The river sloshed gently against its banks. Now that he'd experienced its magic, Arimand wondered if it had been the source of their woes. Did it saturate the ground of Hell's third ring? Would they experience the same sapping of hope in the next?
He found Eselt at the river's edge, slumped with one hand still submerged in the water. Bracing himself for the exertion, Arimand lifted the clan leader's arm and dragged him away from the edge. Then he knelt and prodded Eselt's shoulder.
With a groan, Eselt rolled onto his back. His eyes moved beneath the lids and opened slowly.
“We need to build a raft,” Arimand said, careful not to make it sound like a command.
“A raft?” Eselt rasped. “We barely have enough wood left for a decent fire.”
“The river of lamentation has hold of your wits.” Arimand fought to keep command of his temper. His reaction would have been no different a few minutes ago. But it was hard not to shake Eselt back into action. “We can't swim the Cocytus. The weight of its sorrow will drag us under.”
Eselt's eyes shifted as they regained focus. Intelligence glimmered beneath the clearing haze of exhaustion. The small man pushed himself to his knees. “You're right, of course. It seems we won't be easing our thirst after all.”
As soon as he regained his feet, Eselt began barking orders. He motivated desolate men with harsh kicks and sharp prods, dragging more than one off the ground by his ears. Arimand set off in the opposite direction, delivering similar impetus to those still lying on the river shore.
Knots were loosened, bundles untied, planks spilled across the ground. Wardel stood in the light of the Phlegethon, directing everyone to lay their pieces in a line so he could survey the available resources. Thail skipped between them, chanting encouragement for once, instead of madness. A few brave souls bent to fill water skins from the Cocytus, though no one was likely to drink from them.
Kaylie intercepted Arimand on his way to assist Wardel, laying both hands on his chest to prevent him plowing forward. He took a half-step to one side, paused and arched an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”
“Please rest. You need to recover from the time you spent carrying me.”
Arimand folded his hands around hers. “We need to cross the Cocytus before those demons catch up.”
“They could have caught us any time if they wanted to, the way their legs eat up the distance,” Kaylie protested. “Besides, you've already done twice as much as anyone else.”
Arimand hesitated. He was exhausted, but so was every man here. It would cost every ounce of their remaining strength to cross the river and they could only hope its effects faded on the far side. He squeezed Kaylie's hands.
“I promised to see you safely out of Hell no matter the cost. If I have to push myself beyond reasonable expectations-”
“But your energy isn't limitless. You cannot guide us if you cannot move.”
He glanced over his shoulder. Eselt had given up on the last few men who refused to be roused and joined Wardel at the head of the pack. Together, they separated the larger planks of wood, laying the foundation for the structure they hoped to build. Arimand's limited naval knowledge would be of little help.
“Very well,” he relented, allowing her to lead him away from the blazing heat of the Phlegethon. “But if I am to be exiled from work, I humbly request you keep me company. It has been a long while since we were able to talk.”
A hint of a smile brushed Kaylie's pale lips. “I'd be pleased to sit with you, even if I can no longer be considered pleasant company.”
“Nonsense. Your presence is always welcome, my lady, though I will rest easier when I know Hell no longer troubles you. That day is coming soon, rest assured.”
Kaylie bowed her head. “After so many losses, we must certainly see this task to completion.” The firelight glinted strangely against her eyes, reflecting unshed tears.
Arimand didn't know what to say. The water's effects had surely worn off by now, and he had never been good with emotional matters. He couldn't bark orders at them and they never reacted logically.
Awkward silence stretched between the pair. Arimand watched Eselt and Wardel argue about the size and shape of the raft. It would have to be simple. They didn't have the resources for anything complex.
Kaylie shifted, bumping his knee with hers.
Arimand cleared his throat. “Something is troubling you.”
“Nothing you can fix.”
“Perhaps not. But if there is something I can do to set you at ease…”
“Well… There is something I wanted to tell you. I tried once before.”
Arimand pursed his lips. “Was I not listening?”
Did he imagine the hint of red in her cheeks? “You were asleep.”
“I'm awake now.”
Kaylie lifted her head. Her eyes shone in the firelight like two polished emeralds and her flaming hair swirled across her shoulders. Her throat throbbed as she swallowed. Her lips parted but she hesitated, breathing heavily.
If only he could see his own face at the moment. Did he look intimidating or encouraging? He willed the tension to ease from his brows, attempting to achieve the latter, but felt certain he looked ridiculous.
“I love you,” Kaylie blurted. “I think I have for awhile.”
Arimand blinked. Was he dreaming?
Close relationships were not unusual in Hell. Eselt and Dwenba were proof enough of that; she was nattering at him just now, hands on her hips, head tilted, tone dripping disdain. And he grumbled back, demanding the breadth of her knowledge on such situations. There had certainly been something between Kimuli and Sulard, enough to make Arimand wonder about the source of Kimuli's fanatical devotion.
He thought about the weeks Kaylie spent pressed against him while they sailed. Her tender touch while she cleaned his wounds after the battle at the wall. The way she ran to him across the battlefield after the boat shattered.
Unfamiliar warmth spread through his limbs, momentarily burning away his long-lingering fatigue. He caught Kaylie's hand and drew her closer.
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes while she awaited his answer.
The fingers of his free hand came to rest beneath her chin, tilting it upward as he leaned close. When their lips met, a tiny electric jolt moved down his spine.
Kaylie wrapped her arms around his neck and he slid his around her waist. She mashed her chest against his, as if trying to occupy the same physical space. Her hands tangled in his hair while his cradled the small of her back.
Hell fell away while they kissed. For the briefest of moments, they occupied paradise.
~*~*~*~
“It doesn't have enough support.” Wardel pressed a boot to one end of the uneven sheet of boards meant to serve as a raft. The planks sagged beneath the slight weight. “It will only be able to carry half of us
before it starts to sink. Maybe not that many.”
“What do you expect us to do about it?” Eselt snarled. “Do you see any trees nearby?”
“See the other side of the river?” Thail replied, though he hadn't been invited to participate in the conversation. “Might be nothing there. Might be endless sorrow to the end of the world.”
Wardel sighed. “We could take two trips-”
“We don't have time,” Eselt interrupted. “Those who can't fit will just have to swim.”
Silence swallowed the riverbank. Kaylie bit the inside of her lip against a sharp retort. Hadn't Arimand said anyone attempting to swim would drown?
Wardel broke the silence. “How do you propose we determine who makes the crossing?”
“We could draw lots,” Arimand suggested with a sigh.
“Like that, would you?” Thail hissed from over Wardel's shoulder, bearing his crooked teeth. “So's you could rig the drawing? Take all your favorites? Leave old Thail behind, hmm?”
Arimand's jaw shifted, though he clamped his lips closed. He probably would have liked to be rid of Thail. The man had grown increasingly erratic since they crossed beneath the wall, and downright hostile since they'd abandoned the burning river. Kaylie pitied him. Whatever brought him to Hell had obviously marked his mind.
Eselt cleared his throat to restore order. “We should give priority to those whose skills are most useful.”
“Or you could be the first in the water.” The venom in Kaylie's voice shocked even her, but she didn't regret it. Did her eyes reflect the fire of the Phlegethon? Or did they burn with light of their own? The men looked at her as if she'd grown a new head. Only Dwenba nodded, a satisfied smirk on her lips.
In the beginning, Eselt had seemed to her a noble soul, her protector. He demonstrated repeatedly his fanatic devotion to this cause. But this wasn't the first time he'd gone too far. Had the woman in the city really been leading them to a trap? Or had killing her suited Eselt's purpose? How many had he ordered abandoned while Hell's haze lay over her mind? If the demons hadn't smashed their craft, would he have tossed men overboard when the boat got too small to carry them all?