Of the Abyss

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  Hansa took up the reply. “We were saying, you need us, too. You can’t get to the surface without us, and we won’t cooperate if you hurt her.”

  “You won’t cooperate . . . meaning, you’ll stay down here in the Abyss until your lungs burn out?” Naples asked. “Even if the boon would let you leave without doing everything within your power to fulfill it, I won’t let you leave, and your threat not to help me leave is a thin bluff. Especially since, of everyone here, I am the one person who would rather die than return without this witch. So what about you? Are you willing to kill us all, including Cadmia, in your noble stand?”

  “It doesn’t matter what we say, since Alizarin doesn’t look like he is willing to make that sacrifice,” Umber pointed out. “I consider the refusal of a fully grown third-­level prince of the Abyss to be suitable cause for me to declare this as something that is impossible. Which—­”

  “Which means very, very little,” Naples said softly. “I didn’t want to do this.”

  In a flash, he had drawn the blade from his right boot. Umber and Alizarin each made a move toward him, but neither was fast enough to stop him from dragging the blade across his palm. He flicked his hand in Umber’s direction, and a wave of power threw the Abyssi-­spawn backward until he slammed into the spines writhing on the wall. Hansa felt every muscle in his own body spasm, felt the pain as if the daggerlike blades had pierced his own back.

  As he collapsed, unable to control his own muscles, he saw Alizarin finish closing the distance between himself and Naples, just in time to meet Naples’ still-­bleeding palm as the Abyssumancer pressed it to the Abyssi’s chest.

  “Step aside.”

  Naples’ voice rang through Hansa’s head, even though he was obviously speaking to Alizarin. The demon’s growl deepened, becoming a vibration so low and powerful it made Hansa’s bones ache as he struggled to remember how to move his arms and legs.

  “Xaz . . .” Cadmia tried to appeal to the Numenmancer, but unlike Naples, Dioxazine was still blind to this world as she kept her own magic working. “Alizarin?”

  “Step. ASIDE.”

  Slowly, tightly, tail lashing, Alizarin eased back.

  “Don’t make me chase you, dear,” Naples said, as Cadmia inched away as far as she could without running into the walls. “Think of the man you’re saving. Is one human death such a sacrifice, when the divine realm itself wants him freed? And of course, your death will save the rest of us here. Without it, we go nowhere until my power runs out, that doorway closes, and we starve to death.” As if with sudden inspiration, he added, “If Terre Verte really can raise the dead, maybe he’ll even take it upon himself to bring you back.”

  Hansa doubted Cadmia was swayed by Naples’ reasoning, but there wasn’t anywhere to run. Hansa had barely even managed to get an arm under himself to try to push himself up before Naples grabbed Cadmia’s arms and dragged her over to the coffin.

  She struggled, but Naples was stronger. The knife he had used moments ago clattered to the ground, but Hansa couldn’t help but remember how many he was wearing. When Naples released Cadmia’s wrists to pin her against the coffin, she hit him. Her nails drew blood from his cheek, but he barely flinched—­what were pain and blood to an Abyssumancer, beyond another source of power?

  CHAPTER 37

  Cadmia would not calmly accept death. She didn’t care what Naples said about lofty goals, possible resurrection, or the futility of resistance. As Naples levered her toward the coffin, she fought.

  Hansa, Umber, and Alizarin had been neutralized with a few drops of the Abyssumancer’s blood and Xaz was still lost in her trance, so it was just her, and she hadn’t needed to physically fight to defend herself since leaving the Order of A’hknet. She threw everything she had into her struggle—­every possible low blow, elbows and feet and fists—­but Naples was stronger than his slender stature suggested. Once he had a grip on her, she couldn’t break it.

  The coffin’s surface was scalding hot against her back, and the crystals pressed into her skin, bruising and cutting.

  Yes. She could feel the power singing as it tasted her blood and cried for more. It overwhelmed her, making even Naples’ grinding grip on her wrist and throat seem distant.

  Deep in that song was another melody, this one cool and soothing. She closed her eyes, trying to hear it better.

  Daughter of the Napthol, it called to her. We see your plight.

  Underneath the music was the sound of gently lapping waves. Against her closed eyelids she saw not the twitching, pulsing walls of this cell or even the black beach of the Abyss, but silver-­white sands endlessly washed by crystalline waters.

  She didn’t question the offer, but reached mentally toward that beautiful sea and the winged form who stood beside it, offering its hand.

  “Help me. Please,” she whispered.

  The figure who had been reaching for her turned toward another, whose voice was rimed with frost and sharp like crackling ice as it said, How dare you risk our child in your scheme?

  I have hold of her. She will not be lost.

  She felt the edge of Naples’ knife at her throat, and realized the Numini’s idea of “help” was different than hers. It didn’t care if her blood was spilled.

  I will not have her tormented this way, the second voice protested.

  An icy winter draft howled through the cell. Naples hesitated, the knife moving fractionally away from Cadmia’s skin.

  Cadmia opened her eyes just in time to see Dioxazine turn her head toward them—­and then Alizarin, freed of whatever spell the Abyssumancer had put on him, crossed the room in a flash of claws and fangs. He pounced on Naples, knocking him away. Cadmia scrambled back, but she didn’t get far before the cool wind became ashen heat.

  She threw her arms in front of her face and felt blood splash like a hot wave. She frantically wiped at it, only to have it almost immediately evaporate into the Abyssal air, soaked up by the cell walls and by the fine filaments of power Naples had left holding open the gate.

  It had only taken a second. If Cadmia had blinked, she never would have seen it, and how she wished she had blinked, that she hadn’t seen Alizarin’s handsome form dissolve into the black-­and-­indigo blur of claws and fangs, the monster, that had rushed over Naples and left nothing behind.

  Nothing but the box, which Alizarin pulled open. Dioxazine was giving off enough light now that Cadmia could make out every crystal on the coffin’s lid. She could tell that the fabric wrapped around the bundle Alizarin lifted out was charcoal-­gray velvet, tied by cords so black they seemed to absorb Xaz’s glow and darken everything a hand’s-­span around themselves.

  “I guess it got its blood,” Umber whispered as Alizarin lifted the limp bundle into his arms.

  The Abyssi glanced at Cadmia. She flinched as those hot blue eyes settled on her. Before she could make any conscious movement, Alizarin had looked away again.

  He had saved her life. She knew that. But the image locked in her mind at that moment wasn’t one of a hero rescuing her, but of the creature inside, the creature that had sent a rain of hot blood down on all of them.

  And a white beach somewhere oh so far away . . . had she really seen that? The image was fading, dreamlike. Had the Numini been arguing?

  “I hate to be the one to ask,” Umber said, “but do we have another way out of here?”

  Alizarin looked at the doorway, where the magic Naples had left behind was starting to tremble. He reached toward it, and the web of power clung to his skin. When he pulled his hand back, the air tore, leaving behind not a door into the next room but another rift, like the one that had taken them to the Abyss.

  “Does that go back to the human plane?” Cadmia asked, heart rising with hope.

  “Surface of the Abyss,” Alizarin replied.

  “Still so much better than here,” Hansa said practically before
stepping into the tear in the world. Umber followed immediately behind.

  “Bring Dioxazine,” Alizarin added when Cadmia started to move toward the portal. Cadmia turned back to the Numenmancer, who had returned to her trance but allowed Cadmia to guide her into the rift.

  She hadn’t taken the time to wonder where they would end up—­in the well, in the middle of the palace, out by the dead sea, or somewhere else—­and was pleasantly surprised to find herself in a familiar parlor. Nothing had changed since they had left. Even the extra supplies they hadn’t been able to carry—­some bundles of food, a jug of water, and extra knives Naples had considered and set aside—­were still on the table.

  Cadmia’s relief lasted one heartbeat before Xaz let out a small sigh and collapsed. She struggled to catch the limp woman, whose body was radiating cold like a winter draft, and guided her onto one of the couches. She searched for and found a heartbeat, but didn’t know anything else to do.

  Meanwhile, Alizarin knelt to unwrap yards of velvet from around the man they had brought out of the lowest level of the Abyss. He was still working when Aurelian ran into the room.

  “Naples,” she gasped. “Where is he? Azo’s fainted. I don’t know what to do.”

  Cadmia hadn’t had a chance to consider how Naples’ death would affect Azo. Maybe this wasn’t the refuge she had thought when they arrived.

  Alizarin looked up from his prize, who hadn’t moved, and asked evenly, “She’s alive?”

  “Yes,” Aurelian breathed, barely able to form the word around her anxiety. “What—­”

  “Aurelian, thank you.” The heavy voice from the doorway made Cadmia’s stomach jerk, as if it couldn’t handle another swing from anxiety to relief and back to concern. “You—­you’re dismissed. Prepare a meal.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Aurelian cast one last look around the room for Naples before hurrying to obey her mistress’s command.

  The silence stretched. Azo hung in the doorway, leaning on the frame as if she lacked the strength to do more. Her burgundy skin had turned a fungal gray-­black with blotches of paler mauve, and her blue eyes seemed flat and lifeless as one of the shades’.

  After a long, guilty moment, Hansa pushed away from Umber to offer assistance. He made it halfway across the room before he staggered, catching the arm of a couch and dropping his head and shoulders as if to fight dizziness. Umber, body trembling slightly with fatigue, caught up to his bond and urged him to sit.

  Still no one had spoken. Cadmia opened her mouth to say something, but all her training—­glib words and easy lies learned from the Order of A’hknet and comfort and honesty from the Order of the Napthol—­abandoned her.

  Azo spoke one word: “How?”

  Alizarin unwound the last length of fabric, revealing a man who appeared in his early twenties. His warm brown hair wrapped him like another layer of cloth; if he were standing, it would probably fall nearly to his waist. His arms were crossed neatly across his dawn-­gray leather doublet, which itself rested on top of a pristine white shirt with onyx buttons.

  He looked as if he had been dressed and poised for the grave.

  This task done, Alizarin finally looked at Azo to say, “It couldn’t be avoided.”

  Azo tried to step forward but fell, one knee striking the ground as she hissed in frustration.

  “Can I help you?” Cadmia managed to ask, kneeling beside her to offer a hand. Azo’s response was frank, a heated look that Cadmia had seen plenty of times before—­but usually from men. She didn’t have a chance to limit her offer before Azo started to cough, body shuddering with the barking spasms that brought blood to her lips.

  “She’s too weak to feed through flesh,” Umber said. “Hansa and I are too drained to give blood. Alizarin?”

  “No,” Azo spat when the Abyssi approached. She pulled in a pained breath, and pushed the next words out one at a time. “I’m not . . . a fool. I can smell him. His power. On you. From here. I won’t—­” Again her body spasmed, though whether with a suppressed gag, cough or sob, Cadmia couldn’t tell.

  “Can I?” Cadmia asked, this time knowing what she was offering, only unsure about whether her mortal blood was powerful enough to matter.

  Umber shrugged. “If she’ll accept. Heart blood’s best.” He made a sketching motion over his own chest, then half stood and half fell to go to Terre Verte’s still form, as if unconcerned about Azo and Cadmia now. The boon, she reminded herself. He and Hansa had lost a lot of power in the bowels of the Abyss. They couldn’t afford to neglect the boon now.

  That left her alone tending to Azo, whose eyes were fixed on Cadmia in a predatory way that would have made Scarlet Paynes turn a customer away no matter how much coin he held. A look like that meant violence.

  Steeling herself, Cadmia reached for one of the knives on the table, which looked like it had been made of one of the massive shells they had seen on the beach. She unlaced the neck of her shirt and shrugged the fabric off her left shoulder to expose the place below her collarbone that Umber had indicated. When it came time to set the knife to her flesh, however, she hesitated.

  Azo’s hand closed over hers. Her face was suddenly close enough Cadmia thought maybe she had gone back to her first response, but then the spawn’s gaze dropped, the blade moved swiftly, and Azo tossed the knife aside as her lips closed over the wound.

  Cadmia bit back a scream at the first sensation, blade and teeth at her flesh; she would have jerked away if Azo’s arm hadn’t become an iron shackle around her back. When she opened her eyes again—­when had she closed them?—­she saw Alizarin on his feet, tail lashing with anxiety as he watched them.

  “She’ll be all right,” Umber said, a hand on the Abyssi’s arm.

  Within seconds, the pain had faded to a faint, bruised ache. “I’m okay,” she said, catching her breath.

  Alizarin hates the constant grime of this level.

  You know him well.

  The brief exchange with Naples passed through her mind unbidden, along with the memory of his blood splashing hot across her skin. Naples had been Alizarin’s friend, hadn’t he? Yet Alizarin had ripped through him the instant the Abyssumancer’s power had been disrupted.

  A deep, rumbling growl from Azo warned her to police her thoughts. She nodded to Terre Verte and asked, “Is he alive?”

  “Nearly,” Alizarin said.

  “Nearly?” Hansa repeated. “What does that mean? Please tell me this wasn’t all for nothing.”

  “Not dead,” Alizarin clarified, unhelpfully. “But not quite alive.”

  “Will he wake?” Umber asked.

  “I hope so.” He looked at Cadmia and Azo again. “It’s not magic I’m capable of making on my own, but it was supposed to be a life given to restore his life.”

  Cadmia didn’t let herself contemplate that further yet either. “What about . . . Xaz?” she asked, hesitating in the middle as Azo’s arm around her back released its death grip and moved so the spawn could pet her hair.

  “She isn’t injured,” Alizarin said, sounding even less sure this time. “I would know if she were. I don’t think it would be wise to pull her back from her trance before she is ready.”

  “So we just—­” She grabbed Azo’s free hand, which had drifted up her side and come a bit closer to a breast than Cadmia was comfortable with. Azo let out a distracted, frustrated half growl and her head lifted. Her eyes were dilated as they met Cadmia’s, but the slim blue rings had regained some of their glow.

  Her gaze traveled down Cadmia’s face, paused at her lips, then returned to Cadmia’s eyes. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  “Are you all right now?”

  Azo shook her head, but said, “I can hunt now. I—­” She winced, shut her eyes, took a breath. “There was no choice?”

  I was the choice. Cadmia tried to come up with a better response, but
could see in Azo’s eyes that she had heard the thought.

  “I see.” Azo nodded, then stood, the move slow and unsteady. “He was willing to die to accomplish his goal.” She looked at Terre Verte’s still form impassively. “I hope he’s worth it. I’m going to go kill something. You all should eat and rest. Your rooms are still available.” She limped from the room, only pausing in the doorway to add, “Cadmia, thank you. We will speak later about how I can repay you.”

  “I don’t know much about magic, mancers or the somewhat-­dead,” Hansa announced once Azo was gone, “but if there’s nothing we can do about Terre Verte or Xaz right now, I second the suggestion about food and sleep.”

  “Naples pulled a dangerous amount of power from both of us,” Umber said, wrapping an arm around Hansa’s waist to walk with him toward the kitchen. “Food is a good start to getting it back. After that, I have other plans for you.”

  They disappeared through the door, leaving Cadmia and Alizarin alone with the two unconscious sorcerers.

  “Did you want me to let him kill you?” Alizarin asked.

  “No.” Cadmia shook her head. “I . . . did you have to kill him?”

  “Yes.”

  “To get the box open.”

  “Partially for that reason,” Alizarin answered.

  “And partially to protect me?”

  He nodded. “Also because of that.”

  “Is there a third part?” She sounded so ungrateful. She started again, trying to explain. “I’m glad you saved me. I’m very glad not to have died down there. But I had thought that you and Naples were friends?”

  Alizarin shrugged. “He said so.”

  “You don’t agree?”

  He paused, tail flicking around his body, then back out again, as if he were struggling to find the words for what he wanted to say. “Abyssi are strong or weak,” he said. “We have prey or playthings or chattel, or we are those things for someone stronger.”

  He looked at her, as if searching for understanding. She hazarded a guess. “Abyssi don’t have friends?”