Oathen

by Giacomo, Jasmine

  The wizard had been home long enough to warm her toes when an urgent pounding came at her door. She set her face in a grimace and stalked over to open it, expecting yet another diatribe filled with insults based loosely around the words “raving mad”.

  Tyana stood panting in the snow, her pale curls plastered to her forehead. The wizard could smell the sulfur wafting off of her.

  “You entered the steam vent!” she said.

  Tyana’s eyes were amazed, insistent. “Teach me that song.”

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Narjin leaned back against the wall, panting. “That might do it.”

  “Thank you,” Rhona whispered, keeping a bloodied hand on Ruel’s chest. Together, she and Narjin had slid the Enforcer’s blade from his back and seared the wounds closed with a heated dagger. So far, it hadn’t killed him. His breathing was terribly shallow, though, and his forehead was beaded with clammy sweat.

  Narjin felt at the lump on her forehead, wiping away a slender trail of blood. “You said something back at the lodge about ‘dirtwalker cousins’. What did you mean by that?”

  A rude reply leaped to Rhona’s lips, but she checked it; concern for family was currently foremost in her mind. “Meena is my great-great grandmother. She stayed with the Southern Sea Clans for a while and bore a daughter who raised our clan, Agonbloom, to prominence. Jaeci had some of her abilities; so did others in her line. Meena didn’t think they’d transfer.”

  “You’re actually related to me by the Shanallar’s blood! Your family has Meena’s abilities? What can you do?”

  Rhona stared at the woman’s face, so like Meena’s. What can I do?

  Despite her pride in her newfound Shanallese heritage these last seasons, she’d never considered that she might have any more to her than the eye-catching hair colors she’d been born with. Her eyes darted to Ruel, and she licked her lips. “If I could have any, I’d take healing. I’d kill for it,” she murmured, turning to her unconscious cousin and gently putting her hands against his skin, as she’d seen Meena do to those she healed.

  Narjin shifted, watching.

  “Ruel,” Rhona said quietly, “help me. We share blood. Between us, we can fix you, I know it.” She closed her eyes and willed his body to knit beneath her hands. “Gods above, help me,” she prayed. “Wisdom…dragons…anyone. I’ll take any god—Clan or dirtwalker—who will listen right now.”

  The green torches along the edges of the walls gleamed down on the tableau; long moments passed.

  “Rhona,” Ruel whispered.

  Hope and amazement soared in her chest. Her gaze lit on her cousin’s face. His blue eyes were lined with pain, though, and she winced in empathy, placing her hands on his cheeks and bending close.

  “I tried to heal you, like Meena. Did it work? You woke up,” she said, face alight.

  Ruel closed his eyes and coughed as quietly as he could, though the effort still seemed to hurt him. “Maybe it did…just for a while…”

  Narjin looked down at her hands. Rhona’s face clouded over. “Ruel, you can’t leave me,” Rhona said. The concept was inconceivable.

  “Sorry, wench,” he breathed. “Give me back to the sea, after. It’s calling.” His eyes met hers with a singular focus.

  “I…” She swallowed. “I would, if you were actually dying.” Her jaw jutted in stubborn denial.

  He breathed through a smile. “You ever think…having me by your side…didn’t support you so much as hold you back…from your potential?”

  “I never thought that!” she said, shaking her head, her braids whipping against her cheeks. “Woman or man, you were the best first mate! The gods themselves could not have given me better.”

  “Time to stand alone…” Ruel sighed and closed his eyes. “Be strong…Rhona…they’ll sing of you one day…”

  Ruel Menihuna’s quest ended.

  Rhona’s eyes searched his face, repeatedly seeking a sign that he still lived. She felt for his heartbeat, her hands pressing against his bloody tunic. But his chest was still.

  “I’m sorry,” Narjin offered in a quiet voice.

  Rhona blinked, unable to comprehend her loss. Ruel had been here a moment ago, right here with her. Now he was gone—sailed over that final horizon—and not even Meena could fetch him back. Her right hand, her first mate, her strongest ally and her loudest challenger, Ruel was dead. She was alone, surrounded by the enemies of her family, far from familiar waters.

  At that moment—far, far too late—Rhona finally realized why her mother had sent her on this journey. A single thought coalesced in her mind: no promise of gleaming swag, no mere dirtwalker lover, nothing was more important than her Clan.

  She gazed at Ruel’s body. “You were right. You were always right. This I swear on the immortal blood of the Seamother, Ruel Menihuna: you will have your own Lay of the Worthy. I will write it with my blades, and my ink will be the blood of my enemies. Your name will be my battle cry, and only death will still my song.” She kissed him, willing her tears into strength, then stood, gathering her swords.

  Narjin looked up at the pirate’s stormy expression. “Rhona?”

  Rhona m’Kora stared down the body-littered hallway, dark promises mirrored in her turquoise eyes. Grimacing in eager anticipation, she hefted her fiery sword and said, “I beg your leave, Narjin. I’m going to cleanse this reeking backwater of my slain kinsman’s enemies. Tag along if you like.”

  Narjin scrambled to her feet, and together they stalked out to rain death upon Dzur i’Oth.

  ~~~

  Sanych’s trip through the edge of the dead zone was anticlimactic. Nothing assaulted her while her eyes were closed, and her fingers trailed the wall placidly, feeling nothing more than its cool, smooth surface. After a minute of walking, she heard Meena’s voice: “You’re through.”

  Sanych didn’t need to hear those words; she could feel that her magic was back within her. Its presence, permeating every fiber of her being, thrilled her with its power. She exhaled in relief, filling her palms with its light.

  They stood in a small round room, dark but for the glow from her hands. She released it into the air, forming a hovering ball of light.

  “Now what?” Geret asked, looking back down the corridor. It was pitch black, but they could already hear the encroaching Enforcers.

  “There’s a small—” Meena’s voice cut of abruptly. “Dragonfire,” she cursed. “What have they done?”

  Everyone else looked at the section of the wall that Meena was frantically patting. It was perfectly smooth.

  “What are you looking for?” Ahm asked.

  Before she could answer, the floor beneath their feet dropped away, and they all plunged downward. Sanych yelped, feeling Geret’s alarm pressing against her own.

  Then cold, deep water swallowed her. She flailed her arms and found the surface, coughing. Geret found her, treading water by her side in the dark. The trap door above them had closed, and her magic light was alone in the upper room.

  She winked it out and created another in the lower chamber, then looked around. The room was circular and domed; they’d fallen in from the topmost point. Around the swimmers lay four large tunnels of smooth, dressed stone. They arched high enough to have plenty of breathing space above the water’s surface.

  Sanych’s nose protested the quality of that breathing space; the air was positively sulfurous. The water she’d gotten in her mouth had tasted terrible as well—not in a stagnant way, but in a mineral way.

  “This isn’t just a trap,” Salvor said. “It’s connected to other areas.”

  Meena grunted, splashing. “Thrice-damned book is bulky.”

  “Here,” Ahm said, swimming to her side. He crafted a finely woven mesh sling that secured the book to her back, allowing her to tread water and swim more easily.

  “Is this part of the plan?” Sanych asked.

  “No,” Meena growled. “It most definitely is not.”

  Faint thuds echoed down from above
, and Geret looked up. “Maybe,” he said in a quiet voice, “that’s a good thing. They’re pounding ahead like they’re still chasing us to the Heart of the Dragon.”

  “You have a point,” Meena conceded. “But if we can’t get out of this trap, or if they’re already there waiting for us, what’s the use?”

  “Maybe we can find a faster way to the Heart of the Dragon.”

  The water in one of the tunnels rippled, creating a wake. Everyone hushed and stared as it approached. Sanych created an enormous glow of light under the water’s surface. It illuminated a long, sinuous shape, undulating below their feet. It jinked quickly and fluttered down to the submerged light.

  “Eel of some sort,” Salvor murmured.

  “It’s huge,” Sanych breathed.

  “And it likes your light, Sanych. Turn the upper light off and keep it occupied,” Meena said, heading for the tunnel furthest from the enormous eel.

  Sanych did so, then swam after Meena; the others followed. She looked back as they entered the tunnel and saw several other eel silhouettes exploring her underwater light. Though her body already trembled from the chill water, she felt a shudder of worry at the sight of them.

  The water warmed as they swam away from the deep pool; it also began to smell more strongly of sulfur.

  They came to a T in the tunnel after swimming for nearly a mile; it led straight on, and also left, closer to the center of the volcano. Occasionally they had passed under massive tunnels leading straight up into the darkness of the mountain.

  Geret found a narrow ledge below the waterline, along the side of the T, and sat down to rest on it. The others joined him, though Sanych was short enough that she needed to stand up on it to breathe.

  “Let’s head toward the center,” Meena said, once everyone had caught their breath. Just as she opened her mouth to continue, Geret was pulled off the ledge and under the water.

  “Geret!” Sanych cried, lighting up the entire floor of the T. An eel had her Oathen by the boot; the creature was wrapping itself around his body even as he thrashed at it, trying to draw his sword. Her mind was filled with his surprise, anger and determination.

  “Folly,” Salvor swore, leaping into the deeper water with his blue-flame sword in hand.

  “Sanych, turn down the light!” Meena ordered. “You’ll draw them all to us!”

  Sanych wasn’t listening. She waded to the edge of the ledge, the water nearly at her waist. Her large light winked out for a moment, leaving Salvor’s sword as the only light in the area. Then she lit herself up like a torch. Her bright outline burned in the darkness.

  The eel abandoned Geret’s boot and pursued her, allowing Salvor to haul Geret to the surface.

  When the eel’s dark, darting head was mere feet from her, Sanych blasted it with solid bars of light. She expected it to be dead when she finished, but instead, the creature slammed into her, biting at her thigh.

  “What—” she yelped, before splashing under the water’s surface. But before the eel could pull her off the ledge, she heard several metallic thuds echo oddly through the water. The eel began thrashing wildly. Arms pulled her from its snapping jaws. Meena’s healing touch soothed the fiery bite marks in her flesh.

  Blinking water from her eyes, she created a dim ball of light overhead and looked at the eel. A dozen metal spikes pinned it to the ledge, and still it struggled to attack.

  Salvor and Geret clambered onto the ledge again. Sanych thanked Meena and Ahm for saving her, then stepped to the writhing eel. Staying clear of its jaws, she put her hands directly on its slimy skin and shot a bar of light through its head, killing it instantly.

  “My fault,” she said aloud. “Water refracts light.”

  The Oathen bond let her know that Geret grasped the magnitude of her embarrassment. He put a hand on her wet shoulder. “You’re too hard on yourself, Sanych,” he said. “You just killed the thing that was trying to eat me.”

  Salvor smoothed his wet hair back to his braid and squeezed it out. “We need to get out of here before the others show up for the feast,” he said, kicking the dead eel.

  Sanych shot a ball of light down each of the unexplored tunnels, illuminating the way. The tunnel they were already in continued on quite a ways, but the one to the left ended after only a short distance.

  Meena didn’t bother speaking; she leaped into the deep water with the Dire Tome strapped to her back, swimming toward the end of the left tunnel. The others joined her.

  It soon became clear, as they swam through ever warmer water, that the tunnel didn’t actually end; it descended.

  “What now?” Geret asked.

  “If I can have a light, Sanych, I’ll go take a look,” Ahm said.

  As soon as she agreed, he created a metal cube with a handle, grabbed on, and let it sink through the water, drawing him quickly downward.

  “Ooh,” Geret said in admiration. Salvor breathed a chuckle.

  Sanych sent a tiny ball of light down with Ahm. She watched it descend further and further from the surface.

  “That’s pretty deep,” Meena commented.

  The light rose, and soon Ahm surfaced, gasping for air. Geret and Salvor steadied him while he caught his breath.

  “What did you see?” Sanych asked, seeing the look of wonder on Ahm’s face.

  The Scion leader’s face held wonder as he answered. “Dragons.”

  Chapter Forty

  Oolat strode through the Labyrinth, following his eager minions as they triggered hidden switches in the enormous stonework maze. The pair of engraved metal doors at the end of the first maze section swung open, and the Enforcers advanced in their pursuit of Meena.

  Though Oolat had years ago stolen a moderate ability to repress pain, so much damage had been done to his body that he dared not ignore the agony any longer, lest it kill him. He had nearly blacked out twice already since he’d regained his magic outside the dead zone. If he was to succeed in seeking revenge for the theft of the Tome, he needed to take alternate action.

  “Polot, Trem,” he whispered. The two cultists nearby jogged to him and lowered their eyes. He placed his hands on their shoulders, leaning on them for support. “The Hand of Power requires your sacrifice.”

  “S-sacrifice?” Polot blurted, raising his eyes to Oolat’s in shock. The young brown-haired man had not been with the cult very long, and had yet to learn there were some things one simply did not do. Like meet the Master’s eyes, and question his will.

  Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have time to learn those lessons.

  Oolat gave them both a predatory smile and called on yet another stolen ability. The two young men sagged to their knees and collapsed on the dragon-tiled floor of the Labyrinth as the cult lord absorbed their vitality, using their own blood as an augment to the healing spell. His wounds closed over in moments, and the cessation of pain brought a glazed look to his white eyes.

  Feeling stronger and more focused, Oolat stalked after his remaining minions. The Heart of the Dragon was close, and his plans would not be denied.

  ~~~

  “Dragons?” blurted Geret. His surprise echoed in Sanych’s mind. “I thought they were mythical!”

  “Stone dragons,” Ahm clarified. “The architecture down there is enormous, and so lifelike. I nearly had a heart seizure at first.”

  “So what’s below us? Statues?” Salvor asked.

  “It’s a joining of tunnels in an enormous underwater chamber. They take many directions. The other tunnel that led upward had light shining down from above.”

  “Wait,” Sanych interrupted. “Why are there enormous underwater tunnels in a volcano? Who made them? What are they for?”

  “Let’s go find out,” Meena said with a smug smile. Sanych knew that look; she pressed her lips together in frustration.

  “You mean, let’s have the rest of us find out,” Geret clarified, meeting Meena’s eyes.

  She tsked. “You two take all the fun out of knowing things ahead of time. Ahm, some we
ights please?”

  Ahm created a heavy cube of metal for each of them. They slipped beneath the surface and sank down to the depths. Sanych created a few orbs of light around them as they descended. Her ears felt the extra pressure as the water got denser.

  The chamber she and the others descended into was truly massive. Far below her feet, dim in the distance, arching tunnels led in various directions, each larger than those they had already traveled through. Huge stone spirals and circles decorated the walls, all the way to the top of the chamber. Stone dragons melded with the chamber walls, cavorting and slithering, flying and diving. They swept above human croplands, spraying fire; they mated high in the clouds; they basked in the liquid stone of the volcano. The watery room was built on a scale for such creatures; the rapidly sinking humans were reduced to bits of flotsam by its size.

  Ahm oriented himself and pointed the way to the other tunnel that led nearly straight up, to the mysterious light beyond. Sanych dropped her weight and rose rapidly through the water, trailing bubbles from her nose.

  There was much gasping and coughing as the five of them surfaced, although most of it was from Salvor.

  “All you Oathens have it easy, don’t you?” he asked, once he could speak. “And Meena. Do you even need air?”

  Meena smirked and shook her head, and everyone climbed from the pool onto a smooth bank.

  Sanych looked around, blinking hot water from her eyes. She had thought the cavern that housed the city of the dead had been enormous, but it would fit into this one many times over. Not only was there orange fungus growing overhead, lighting the entire ceiling, but other orange glows rose from along the edges of the room.

  Salvor wrung out his braid again, smoothing loose hair back from his face. Geret eyed him with a flat look. “What?” Salvor asked.

  “Who could you possibly be trying to impress?” Geret asked. “You think some helpless maiden will be trapped down here? Maybe you’re just trying to look the tastiest for the dragons.”