A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire, Book Two)

by Jessica Cluess

  “When you’re face to face with one of the Ancients, you’ll know,” Mickelmas said. “Remember, the whip and the flutes are especially good for Molochoron. You don’t want to get close enough to use the dagger, as the smell can be quite disconcerting.”

  I laughed but then grew horribly light-headed. My nose started gushing blood, and the room grew bright before plunging into darkness. Someone guided me to the sofa, where I sat with my head back, pinching my nose.

  “Use this,” Maria said, giving me a handkerchief. There was a voice whispering in the corner of the room…wasn’t there? When I turned to find it, a sharp pain stabbed between my eyes. Maria held my head in her hands and shushed my whimpering. “Don’t move.”

  “That’ll happen,” Mickelmas said. “Boys, raise your hand if you’ve a headache.” The room was silent, then I heard the magician grunt. “Right. Two of you. You must use these weapons sparingly, in practice and in battle.”

  “Why do they have this effect?” I asked, sounding quite plugged up.

  “No idea, but prolonged exposure can have disastrous consequences. Shifts in personality. So do as I ask, and be careful.”

  I opened my eyes, and the world settled once more.

  Blackwood had gone over to the table with the weapons and picked up the softly glowing lantern.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Mickelmas plucked it from the boy’s hands and put the lantern back, checking on the latch. “Remember what I said earlier? Never open that unless you must.”

  “Why?” I asked. I’d missed that particular instruction.

  “It’s a way to summon the beasts to you,” Mickelmas grumbled, tossing a piece of cloth over the lantern. “Strangewayes called it an optiaethis. It’s not merely an object from another world—it’s a living piece of it.”

  My skin crawled. I wished I’d left the damned thing at Strangewayes’s.

  “What about the bone whistle?” I looked at the object lying on the table beside the lantern.

  Mickelmas shrugged. “No idea what that one does. Never saw any mention of it in the book.” He picked it up. “I’d recommend caution.”

  “Do you think we’ll be ready in time for the next attack?” Magnus asked, crouching to one knee and twisting his sword just so. He handled it better, but not perfectly. It sounded like nails scraping down a piece of glass.

  “Probably not.” Mickelmas took the sword and demonstrated again. “But there’s always a silver lining: if you fail, you’ll be too dead to be embarrassed.”

  —

  OVER THE FOLLOWING WEEK, WE SNATCHED every stolen hour we could to train with Mickelmas. There were battles to be fought ten miles outside the city, but those battles were for the army, not the London guard. This gave the five of us time to work quickly. Once we’d got a handle on the weapons, we didn’t need to practice as much. That meant the side effects became less frequent as well.

  Magnus’s arm healed more every day. Soon the bandages would come off, and he’d be sent back to the navy. Once our group dissolved, it would be harder than ever to get the Imperator to change his mind. We needed one more chance to prove ourselves, and we needed it soon.

  Then, eight days after Mickelmas had begun to train us, the warning bells chimed once more.

  Dong. Dong. Ding dong ding dong. Ding ding, dong, ding. Dong. Dong. Dong. Attack. North. Ancient. And the three large chimes at the end signaled Callax.

  So we were to meet the Child Eater at last.

  When Blackwood and I joined our squadron north of the river, it was clear that fewer sorcerers than usual had answered the summons. In fact, there were probably no more than a hundred all told. Perfect—our first sighting of an Ancient on the city’s border in months, and it had to happen when our London ranks were diminished. Yesterday, Whitechurch had sent several of our squadrons to the border of Devon, answering a call for reinforcements. Zem was supposed to be down there, rampaging through the countryside, and our southern forces were taking a beating.

  We’d played directly into R’hlem’s hands, leaving London more vulnerable than usual. Blackwood had said the Skinless Man would choose a moment to test our weaknesses, and now was the perfect bloody time. If he found us lacking today, tomorrow he might decimate our last defenses—and our queen—in one fell swoop.

  My heart was in my throat. We could not fail.

  Those of us left assembled directly behind the barrier, four rows deep, twenty sorcerers per row. The trick was to have multiple lines of attack, one right after the other. The first row might use fire, for instance, then bend down and strike with an earthen onslaught while the second row continued the fire assault.

  Above us, the air brewed with a storm that two squadrons were creating. Blackwood and I waited as Valens passed by, counting off the people in his division. We had prayed he wouldn’t pay us any special attention, with our larger weapons barely concealed. Thankfully, he did not, and I let out a breath as he passed.

  “Stay here,” I whispered to Blackwood. Balancing on a column of air, I flew up to gaze over the barrier into the no-man’s-land beyond. There was no movement on the road ahead, but the air felt weighted with anticipation. Water-glass mirrors were suspended on either side of me, tracking Callax’s movement.

  “There you are,” someone said. I was shocked to find Wolff balancing on a column beside me, his clothes and face spattered with mud. Had he grown even taller since we’d last seen each other? At the very least, his black hair was longer and unkempt, and traces of a beard graced his cheeks. He grinned. “Wondered when I’d see you.”

  “Wolff! I heard you were in Manchester.” I wanted to hug my friend, but that might topple both of us to the ground.

  “I was until two days ago. We’ve been experimenting with shielding. Zem’s fire burns hot enough to crack most wards, so we’re trying to strengthen our magic.” Wolff watched the area ahead with a keen eye. As a warder, he was called upon to provide extra protection when an Ancient attacked. Light shone faintly on the curve of his otherwise invisible shield. “I heard about your weapons. I’m sorry they couldn’t let you use them,” he said.

  “We’ll see how that goes,” I replied, lifting the whistle out of my collar. Wolff’s eyebrows lifted in amazement, or perhaps horror.

  “You always were mad.” He sounded admiring.

  I flew back down to Blackwood, who was watching the water glasses with a nervous eye. As I got into formation beside him, I mentally readied myself for Callax’s attack.

  The Child Eater, a twenty-foot-tall troll, had plagued the western end of the country for the last two years. He was phenomenal at smashing everything in his way, leveling entire villages. He’d attacked London before, of course, but that was back when we had our ward. Luckily, he couldn’t fly, he’d no psychic abilities, and he couldn’t breathe fire. But his strength was unequaled, and there was a possibility that the sheer power of his fists could smash the wards and barrier. If that happened, we would have to pray that our powers would be enough to stop him.

  Callax was also responsible for Lilly’s family’s deaths. He’d killed her parents before carrying off her little sisters. It was said he liked to ferry the children he captured away to some cave and eat them later at his pleasure, picking his teeth with their bones. My skin went hot. He wouldn’t break through to London today. I’d see to that.

  Magnus and Dee arrived and got into position behind me, Magnus with swords strapped to his hips, Dee with the flute snuck under his coat. They both did their best to keep out of Valens’s line of sight.

  “Lovely day for possible death and dismemberment,” Magnus said conversationally, passing Blackwood a sword of his own.

  I would have teased him back, but the ground vibrated beneath our feet. My mouth felt dry as cotton as squadron leaders blew their whistles, signaling for us to prepare.

  Two sorcerers—the head water-masters—focused the scrying glasses. We four watched as a great, hulking form appeared. The beast’s snorts and grunts carried
all the way to where we stood.

  Callax was a massive creature with a humped spine and long, muscled arms that ended in boulder-shaped fists. Moss-colored patches of diseased skin speckled his torso. His jaw jutted forward, broken yellow teeth protruding. Drool hung in ropes from his open mouth. His eyes were small and deep-set, his head bald and smooth as an egg. Long, pointed ears fanned out to catch every sound.

  The thing huffed and then began pounding his fists upon the ground, faster and faster. Boom. Boom. Boom. My toes curled in my boots, and I slipped my shaking hand around the dagger’s hilt.

  With a full-blooded roar, Callax barreled toward the barrier and us, his head down, going faster than such a large monster should have been able to move. Every thundering step reverberated in my bones. Closer. Closer. I could see his flaring nostrils, the hateful glint in his eyes. When he crashed into the barrier, he was going to send all the warders along its edge careening to the ground.

  “First shot,” Valens cried. He raised his stave in the air and slashed it in three quick movements, shorthand for an earth attack, quicksand. “Begin in twenty paces.”

  We counted down the monster’s strides as he prepared to bulldoze us. On Valens’s signal, we all struck our staves to the earth as one. I watched in the water glass as the ground opened beneath Callax, dissolving from stone to sand in one instant. He sank to his waist, clawing at the ground so as not to be sucked away.

  Perhaps we could simply harden the sand and trap him there. But with a great, savage cry, he pulled himself out of the pit too quickly for us to stop him.

  Valens, undeterred, signaled to the sky above. The purpling clouds swelled and twisted as we turned our staves upward, making five short, sharp movements that rather resembled a lopsided star. Lightning speared from the sky, striking the monster. Callax retreated a few steps, snorting and slamming his giant fists again in rapid succession, boom boom boom.

  As we prepared for another maneuver, the Child Eater sprang forward and slammed into the barrier. His hand reached over the top and was repelled by one of the warders. But he banged again and again into the thorny wall, and it began to weaken and shred. Leaves, thorns, and flowers littered the ground. One of the warders plummeted with a scream.

  R’hlem was testing it, as Blackwood had said. He was proving how weak it—and we—were.

  The four of us knew what to do without having to be told. The boys grouped around me, and together we watched as the wall before us trembled with Callax’s pummeling. Dee placed his hand on my arm. Magnus gripped Dee’s shoulder. Blackwood’s hand found mine for one brief instant. We were all beyond words now. Well, not all of us.

  “If I should die today,” Magnus said solemnly, “I only hope that Blackwood goes first.”

  Together, as a unit, we summoned wind and flew over the barrier, over the heads of the shocked warders, to stand on the other side.

  Landing less than ten feet from the monster, I had an idea of how one felt entering a lion’s den. Callax ceased striking at the great wall of thorns, his upturned nostrils quivering as he caught our scent. A thick gray tongue licked his lips in anticipation.

  I threw balls of flame at him to draw his attention further. Callax bellowed as my fire scorched his legs, but he recovered quickly. I saw what Mickelmas had meant about a thick hide. I sheathed my dagger and unhooked the whip from my belt.

  “Come fight, you great ugly pudding!” I shouted.

  “Don’t insult the monsters,” Magnus said. “They take it personally.”

  Callax stomped his foot and charged. He was a wall of muscle and cold fury.

  If this didn’t work…It had to.

  Dee ripped the flute out of its muting sheath and played, just as Mickelmas had instructed. I heard nothing, but this time the effect was instantaneous. Callax wailed and shook his head like a dog ridding itself of water. Shoving fingers in his pointed ears, he roared in pain.

  Blackwood and Magnus dashed forward and, twisting their swords, dug into Callax. Blackwood caught the giant’s left leg directly at the knee. Magnus dared higher, leaping into the wind and delivering an upward twisting blow into Callax’s side.

  They were good, but not good enough; the weapons hadn’t broken skin. Dee’s fingers slipped on the flute, and for a split second the instrument screamed once more. We all cried out, but Callax was glad for the respite and lifted his fist to mash Magnus into the ground.

  Dee took up the tune again, giving Magnus just enough time to roll away, and Blackwood ducked as well.

  So far, this was going according to the rough plan we’d mapped out. Dee was to incapacitate the monster while Blackwood and Magnus and I got in shots whenever we could. It wasn’t much of a plan, I admitted, but it was better than nothing. At the very least, it would slow Callax until the others flooded over the barrier to help.

  Where were the others?

  I flew toward Callax. Swinging the whip over my head, I struck the Child Eater’s face. He bellowed as a gash appeared on his forehead and blood poured from the wound. I’d got him, even a little. Magnus attacked again but still couldn’t break the beast’s skin. I tried the whip once more but missed, my wrist twisting at the wrong angle. Falling to the earth, I cursed as I struggled to catch breath.

  We hadn’t been in the fight that long, and already I could feel myself growing sluggish. Dee had stopped playing, and my vision was dangerously close to tilting. No. We can’t be ill. We’re not finished yet.

  “Dee, give me the flute!” I cried. He began to hand it over, but we were too slow and dropped it. When it struck the ground, it emitted another ear-rattling shriek. The bright bubbles of the ward vanished as the warders dropped their defenses, shocked by the noise. Callax snarled. With him this close to the barrier, there wouldn’t be enough time to get the shields back up.

  I pulled the whistle out of my collar, not sure what the hell I expected, and blew. Again, no noise.

  But Callax halted. His broad, terrible arms fell limp at his sides. His expression slackened, his pupils dilated. His face was blank with astonishment.

  What the devil? I tried to “play” a tune, touching the holes along the instrument. Callax winced at some of my playing, then grew calm again at other notes. He took one step, then another toward me.

  The beast was following me like a pet.

  Magnus took the opportunity and stabbed his sword into the monster. This time Callax bled, droplets running down the creature’s side and raining onto the ground. Callax howled in pain but didn’t try to fight back. He watched me, still captivated by the bone whistle’s music.

  “Keep playing!” Blackwood raced forward with one of the daggers in his hand, and with a cry, stabbed upward into Callax’s hide. The beast fell to his knees, bellowing in pain.

  If he hadn’t been responsible for so many deaths, I would have felt sorry for the creature.

  Sorcerers began to arrive at our side, leaping over the barrier and forming a colossal tunnel of wind. My skirts whipped about, and my hair was ripped from its chignon. Callax flattened himself further as Magnus and Blackwood took turns sticking him, blood staining their sleeves up to the elbow.

  It didn’t seem right, somehow.

  Blackwood moved faster than the others. He was absorbed in the task, his expression mixing rage and delight. Droplets of blood spattered his face and ran down his chin. Still blowing on the whistle with my right hand, I approached the monster as well, a ball of fire held aloft in my left hand.

  Callax looked up at me. His huge eyes were filled with pain, and he whimpered like an animal brought low in a snare.

  Horrified, I stopped blowing the whistle.

  “What are you doing?” Blackwood shouted. “Keep playing!”

  But I’d already given Callax the time he needed, and the Ancient rose to his feet, black blood gushing in rivulets down his body. He stared down at the sorcerers as they attacked. Nets of fire sizzled his wounded flesh. Shards of ice sliced him. Wild bursts of wind and rain battered him. Keeni
ng, Callax lurched forward and ran.

  He fled from us.

  We chased him until he picked up speed and moved beyond our range. Two squadrons pursued, though I doubted they’d bring him down today. If only I’d hung on longer with my whistle, we could have finished another Ancient. I’d been foolish to show mercy, especially as he’d have shown me none.

  Still, Strangewayes’s weapons had shortened the fight. They had—no, we had kept it from being a massacre. We’d kept R’hlem from a great victory indeed.

  Blackwood picked up a stone and threw it after the giant’s retreating form, such a boyish gesture, and so unusual for him. He came to me, wild with delight. “Did you see it? I wounded a bloody, blasted Ancient!” He held out his hands, stained with the giant’s blood.

  Magnus and Dee whooped, shoving each other in the particular way of men who’ve done a good job. And Blackwood rushed to join in, crashing into the others. For the first time since I’d known him, he’d shoved the invisible cloak of responsibility off his shoulders. The boys welcomed him, pounding him on the shoulder as he yelled in triumph. Rain began to rinse the blood from his skin.

  He looked young and happy.

  Even if we ended up in the Tower, it was a sight worth witnessing.

  Whitechurch rested his long, blue-veined hands on the alabaster handle of his cane, twirling it steadily. He was seated in a chair by the fireplace. I stood before him, in the center of the rug.

  “You disobeyed a direct order.” Whitechurch had come to Blackwood’s house to have this talk with me, and he’d banished Blackwood from the parlor. I’d scrubbed my face and changed into a rose-colored gown with lace at the sleeves—Lilly had been helpful in choosing it.

  “The more ladylike you look, the harder it’ll be for the Imperator to punish you,” she’d said sagely. Still, I wished I’d kept the dirt and the blood. Perhaps it would have made my case more compelling.