The Verse of Sibilant Shadows: A set of tales from the Irrational Worlds

by JM Guillen

  I supposed I was thankful.

  Two other cultists had their wet screams cut short as the creatures overwhelmed them, burrowing within. The High Rector backed away from them, grabbing for the cloth over his eyes.

  “This is not what was seen!” His voice rose to a crazed pitch. “Get back! Ictithia was ever an ally!”

  If the creatures understood him, they made no motion of slowing.

  His eyes wide, the High Rector backed up against the deep, black chasm that edged the library. As the last of his underlings was overwhelmed, lurching and gargling on his own blood, the High Rector stared into that horrifying abyss and then back to his dead compatriots.

  As the Arachniis swarmed toward him, the High Rector took one silent step of resignation.

  He fell into the black.

  Well over a dozen of the monstrosities spilled after him, overeager for his flesh.

  I supposed they might yet feast at the bottom until the whispers assured me that they had shattered against the stone cliff-face.

  That thunder of firepowder came again, and this time I was certain it was cannon fire. The room trembled again, but the sound was now accompanied by a great rushing roar, like boulders dropping into a deep and relentless river.

  My eyes widened as I remembered the water. If I made a run for it…

  Don’t look like good swimmers, do you?

  On the contrary, their little legs didn’t seem like they would be much help at all. Also, the ones who hadn’t spilled into the black pit contented themselves to feast on the heretics. As they gorged, their urgency faded.

  If they followed me into the river, they’d be swept under in a nonce. Just like the citizens above us when the bound finally snapped and the bloodstorm crashed over the city.

  But… it hadn’t snapped, had it?

  The first legacy assured me that the device within the crevice (dampening grenade) had stopped the Arachniis from feeding on the bound, and with time it would heal. Just not in time to save the poor citizens of Calyptin Station.

  The bound shivered with power, rising and falling, diving in and out of so many places like a delfin on the waves. It beckoned to me, tugging like the tide, wanting to wash me away to forgotten, uncharted lands.

  I could let go and wash away into it. I could save myself.

  If I let the bound take me away, I would live, yet thousands of others would die from those tainted monstrosities.

  No. I shook my spectral head. There must be a way.

  My arm rose, as slow and graceful as a hart, and I cupped a single mote of pure flame in my palm. It sat, no warmer than a summer’s day, no heavier than a fleck of dust, and gleamed in my hand.

  I couldn’t change the bound—not like the cultists had tried to do.

  But I could influence it. Nudge it. Just a nonce.

  I raised my hand to eye level and gazed at the spark of delight and warmth that wreathed my palm in joy.

  “Come now,” I urged it. “Let’s put things straight.” I smiled. I began to scoop motes out of other places, first one then two. I blew, and they shone.

  The plates of lapis began to rotate more smoothly, and the piece of erryxwood which had fallen to the ground trembled just a mite.

  (—motes of force which feed it, great strands of them. They must be untangled and free flowing, or the bound cannot breathe—)

  I opened my hand, and the motes shone before sinking into the plates. The plates began to shine like stars that streaked across the sky in spring.

  Yes. It was right. I felt the perfection of it. I couldn’t repair the bound—that was far beyond me. But I could make certain it was able to repair itself.

  That would be enough to save the inners.

  I scooped out more motes, brimming handfuls of shine. I blew on them, rolled them around my hands, even shook them like lucky dice, sprinkling them into the air to billow up like sparks of fire, like stars in the firmament. They cleaved to each other, becoming burning plasm, and wrote the secrets of eternity in flaming letters in the air.

  It felt natural, felt right.

  When I pulled out motes of song, they clung to my fingers, and I had to pull them away like taffy, stretching brass and reed, string and wind. The tiniest gesture gave forth wave after wave of sound: prancing, joyful cimbales, djembe that pounded in exultation, and violis that stretched resonance so high and tight that I nearly broke with the clarity.

  They joined the burning plasm that hung in the air, and all sparkled and danced and sang.

  The bound sang to me of love. It sang to me of joy and of understanding. It sang to me of purpose.

  I sighed.

  It was time. I had done all I could possibly do here.

  Now I had to leave.

  I watched the slowed Arachniis brood, waddling about like gorged puppies. Of course, these puppies intended to keep these Brethren alive to incubate their spawn.

  Still I couldn’t be complacent. I needed to step from the bound and run. I needed to be out of here as quickly as possible. If I could just make it to the water, I would be safe. Hopefully.

  I waited a long moment, making certain every one of the little nightmares was otherwise busy.

  Then, I stepped from the bound.

  “Witchling!” Riza’s eyes rolled in wild horror, her voice a croak. “Please—!”

  “Not likely, is it?” I stepped past her, moving quickly. “You would have happily fed them my blood, you bitch.”

  “Kill me!” The plaintive begging came as I stepped past. “Please, have mercy!”

  I didn’t. Instead, I kept moving, showing her all the concern she had shown me.

  Perhaps those explosions meant rooms collapsing or the river altering course. They were close, whatever they were. I had to hurry.

  Besides she would be dead soon enough.

  The Arachniis, even those buried in the bodies of screaming cultists, noted my passing, and almost casually a handful wriggled toward me like overfed slugs. I easily stepped past them into the darkness of the hallway, keeping my pace at a light jog.

  Of course, it was dark, but I knew that the doors would be just ahead. I listened as I jogged along, wary for the hungry whispers of those small, vicious monsters.

  Instead I heard the voices of men.

  What? I slowed my run, paying attention behind me. The last thing I wanted was to run into another set of Orahiel worshippers.

  Without my talisma too.

  I hadn’t realized how I had come to rely on the second legacy. I crept forward, listening intently.

  “—getting close.” It was a deep, masculine voice. “Artistic relics like this—” The door in front of me cracked, unleashing brilliant light from the other side. Then it opened on four men holding lanterns high to illuminate the hallway.

  (— would give his life for his captain, in a nonce—)

  “Ysabel?” It was Barnabas, his deep, Kabian voice laced with surprise. “What are you—?”

  “Barnabas!” Relief, like a cool rain on a summer day, washed over me. With strength I didn’t know I still had, I ran up to the large man and threw my arms around him.

  “There now.” My gesture left the large man a touch embarrassed. “You’re safe.”

  The men with him muttered something, but I didn’t care to listen.

  “You already found her?” Captain Argent called from some way behind the men.

  I blinked to make certain my eyes weren’t deceiving me.

  There, over the great river which coursed beneath the world, was a gargantuan hole that opened to the sky. Ropes and pulleys descended from above, and if I peered just right—

  “He brought his airship.” I couldn’t believe it. “He blasted a massive hole in the ground to come after me!”

  “Mantle told ’im where the heretics were.” The wild-haired man, Corsun, tapped his armor. “Like an oil lamp, it shines when it’s ’round sorcery and foulness.”

  “But…” I was still stunned. “So he turned his cannons
on the city and blew his way into the unders?”

  “Captain Argent is well known among the governors, Ysabel.” Barnabas smiled. “When he proved to them that there were heretics beneath the city, heretics causing the bounds to fall, he got their blessing.”

  I wondered how much the captain’s fiat had helped in that regard.

  “Are you shipshape, ’Bel?” Captain Argent stepped up behind his men. He appeared more than a little frazzled, his own hair quite wild.

  “Well enough now.” I couldn’t help but grin wildly, but then a thought occurred to me. “Although…” I turned to the passage.

  “What is it?” Captain Argent ran his fingers through his hair.

  “If your men are well armed, there is some clean-up to do. One of the bounds is down this passage. The Brethren were fouling it. That’s why the outers fell.”

  “How many of them?” This was Blythe, a slender man.

  “There’s four or five behind us.” I cleared my throat. “They’re not dead, but they wish they were.”

  “They do, do they?” Captain Argent sounded puzzled.

  “Yes.” I sighed. “I’ll show you. Keep your weapons ready.”

  We stepped through the passage, not seeming nearly as long now. I supposed that light and five well-armed men made a difference.

  “Khabbar-Dús.” Barnabas’ eyes darted as he stepped into the room. One of the gorged Arachniis began crawling toward him, but the Kab quickly slammed a boot down upon it, squishing it wetly.

  “Trade-speak, you cretin.” Captain Argent’s tone was soft as he looked in wonder at the horror within the room. Then, he faced me. “Ysabel, how did you—?”

  “Please…” Riza moaned in agony.

  “Handle those skorpiin-kin, men.” Both Barnabas and Blythe began stomping on the little nightmares, their hobnail boots good for the work.

  Captain Argent bent over Riza, and his eyes filled with horror.

  “Mercy, sir.” Her abdomen was distended, writhing with the creatures inside her.

  Captain Argent said nothing. He aimed his firepowder pistol straight at her face and ended her life.

  “Kill them all.” His voice came in a harsh rasp. “Tainted night, burn the—”

  “No!” I whirled on him, my temper flashing. If I had been wearing the talisma, I don’t know if I could have held my fury at bay. “No fire! The bound will right itself with time. And—” I paused as wild implications dawned in my mind. With a blink, then a smile, I rounded on the captain.

  “And I need your men to do some cargo work after.” I stood up straight, gesturing Captain Argent to follow.

  When he saw the back of the room, his mouth gaped.

  “Books! So many…”

  “Without my mother’s direct guidance, I need to study, don’t you think?” I cleared my throat.

  “Ysabel.” He gave me a hard stare. “Some books are dangerous. Some lore can bend the mind of a man.”

  “Which is why we need to take them. I think I can learn from some and figure which ones we need to destroy.”

  “You can.” He regarded me a long moment, a rueful light in his eye. “Not the same girl I bought, are you?”

  “I suppose not.” I gave him a tight smile.

  “Captain, the Brethren are all dead.” Corsun came up behind us. “Thought we might spill the corpses into the depths, away from—” He gestured at the bound.

  “Good thought.” He snarled in disgust. “Kill those little vermin, every one. Check each heretic carefully. Knock all the dead into the abyss.” Then, he turned to me, even though he was speaking to Corsun. “Afterward, get ten strong men down here.” He gestured at the library. “Our little wyrdling needs to peruse these books.”

  “Yes, Captain.” Corsun didn’t question the command in the least.

  “I hope you know what you’re about,” my captain muttered to me beneath his breath.

  I said nothing.

  I hoped for the same thing.

  18

  “Welcome to the Storm Dancer, Ysabel.” Barnabas extended a huge hand and pulled me up.

  “Glad to be here.” I landed somewhat abruptly on the deck of the ship, grinning like a fool.

  I’m getting out of here. I’m finally going! I could hardly contain my excitement.

  It was difficult not to be surprised about the size of the Storm Dancer. The glimmering vision of copper and brass was five-hundred paces long, easily. Many of the fittings were polished, black basidia, and the planks were all goldtimber. She looked like a cross between a seaship, a hornet, and a dragonfly.

  She was beautiful.

  “Until we get back to the Bastions, the Dancer will be your home nine days out of ten.” Captain Argent stepped up behind me and led me to the side hold. “We dock for both supplies and work at most of the port cities along the Verges. You will be escorted your first time into each city, but I will trust you thereafter.” He smiled. “It’s a matter of safety. It’s usually best to go in a group.”

  “That seems reasonable.” I was well acquainted with stories of harriers and pirates on the Verges.

  “I will leave you in Barnabas’ charge for now. We will talk more soon, once you are refreshed and the ship is in the wind.”

  “Yes, sir.” I couldn’t help but smile. Wild delight coursed through me.

  “Let me show you to your quarters.” Barnabas’ deep voice rumbled in his chest.

  “My quarters?” The idea struck me as odd, but then I remembered that Captain Argent had come at my mother’s behest. He’d expected to return with one of the wyrd-blooded—a young woman to boot.

  “Didn’t think you’d be staying in the bellows with that pack of scurvy-rats, did you?” He grinned. “Come along. You’ll want to get clean. Storm’s coming, and I'll be due topside.”

  “Sounds lovely.” I smiled at Barnabas as we walked. After a few moments, however, I couldn’t keep my tongue.

  “I know almost nothing about you, Barnabas. How long have you been with the captain?”

  “I was with him before he became a privateer.” The large man chuckled. “He won me in Myrr, along with the ship. I was little more than a hand then.”

  “Won the ship?”

  Barnabas gave me a wide grin. “Don't ever play the captain at draughts or rout. Not unless you want to get an education.” He walked toward a side door, gesturing me forward.

  “You aren’t his slave though.” I phrased it as delicately as I could.

  “The captain has Riogiin sensibilities. He thinks slavery is abhorrent and freed me at once.” He shrugged. “He then hired me on.”

  That meant a lot to me. The idea that Barnabas had stayed said a lot about the captain.

  The large Kabian led me up a narrow flight of creaking stairs into a long hallway. Red carpet runners covered the center, and the hall smelled of naphtha from the flickering lights. After several strides and a sharp left turn, he announced, “Here we are.” Barnabas gave me a large, toothy grin. “Your quarters, Ysabel.”

  He opened the heavy, mahogany door.

  It seemed as if they had prepared, at least somewhat, for a new addition on board. A lamp burned low on a small table, and Barnabas turned it up, letting the flickering, yellow light reveal the room.

  My quarters were at least as large as my father’s cottage.

  A large canopy bed occupied the far wall, with diaphanous cloth hanging at all sides. Two wardrobes lined one wall, and a writing desk graced another. Beyond a dressing screen sat a cask tub with copper fittings that drained into the wall.

  I chuckled at the thought of the ship venting my bathwater as we sailed through the sky.

  At the foot of the bed sat a small chest—a chest loaded with books from the deeps of Eld Calyptia. It was far more books than I had owned back home, and yet there were ten times this number in the hold.

  I was eager for their secrets.

  “Yours. This entire space. Once you have settled in, you will be able to call this home. The ca
ptain may come and go as he pleases, of course, but you will be allowed privacy from the others as you wish.”

  “Whose room was this?”

  “This room has been empty for quite some time. I don’t remember the last person who stayed here. Some diplomat of the accords, I’m certain.” He paused. “I do know that all the linens were done up fresh when the captain told us he would be bringing Iryniå’s daughter on board. Also you have several sets of clothing that the captain hopes will do for now. Simply set aside anything that ill-fits.”

  The carpet felt so thick and luxurious that I kicked off my sandals and let my toes sink into the softness. It was impossible not to grin like a child. I was walking toward the wardrobe when the entire room shuddered. It was as if I could hear the low drone of drowsing bumbles coming from everywhere at once.

  “We’ll be onward soon. I’ll send some hot water.” Barnabas turned toward the copper tub and pulled the lever by the lowest pipe. The drain closed with a snick.. “Then you can get clean.”

  “That sounds delightful,” I said, though I waited until he left to laugh my delight.

  Less than a candle later, I was on the bow of the Storm Dancer, the wind in my face as I watched the city rapidly dwindle.

  I couldn’t ever remember being so happy.

  In the distant east, toward the edge of the world, I could see a storm brewing. Violet and red lightning flashed in the sky, and the boiling clouds grew black. It didn't look like a true bloodstorm yet, but I had no doubt that it could develop into one in less than a nonce.

  We needed to get away. Soon, the lands around Calyptin Station would be awash in the storm.

  The city itself remained safe. When the bound was fully restored, even the outers would be under its blessing again. Though many people had been killed, in the end, Calyptin Station hadn’t fallen.

  Yet, anyway.

  “I thought saving Calyptin Station was supposed to be impossible?” I gave Captain Argent a sideward smile as he walked up to the rail where I leaned.