Song of Leira

by Gillian Bronte Adams

  A goat bleated.

  His blood turned to ice. There was no mistaking that sound, not here of all places. He wheeled around as a chimera bolted out of a tunnel about a hundred yards away and barreled toward them. His crippled hand throbbed. Searing pain ripped through his chest. His lungs wouldn’t expand.

  “Hawkness . . .”

  Amos shook free. “Of all the fly-swoggled, barnacle-blithered, charbottled sludge of roughnash . . .” Muttering the words beneath his breath, he snatched the sword from his belt and readied his stance to match the cursed one-handed grip he now had to employ thanks to those bloody monsters. He stood back to back with Nisus. The movement shifted his field of vision, allowing him to see past the monstrous form. Words died on his tongue.

  A bellow reverberated through the ground.

  “Hawkness . . .”

  Monsters boiled out of the tunnels ringing the south side of the cavern. Dozens of them. A hundred. Chimeras, hounds, even the hulking form of a quimram smashing a reckless path through the mass and a beast or two he had never seen the like of before. And in the rear, a herd of fledgling raven steeds with wings not yet strong enough to bear them in flight. All racing at full tilt, a wild stampede converging upon them.

  Amos opened his mouth and then shut it again. His sword arm drooped, and he gave vent to a wild laugh of utter disbelief. Of all the terrible things he had imagined—and since escaping the Pit, his mind had concocted a variety of horrific and painful deaths—this he had never envisioned. “What d’ ye reckon the odds are all o’ ’em turned up here by pure happenstance?”

  “Hawkness . . .” Nisus’s voice sounded strained. Amos looked at him. The dwarf usually possessed more eloquence. He was a Xanthen strategist, after all, and no one liked blather so much as they did. “Look.” The dwarf pointed at the mass of charging beasts.

  “I see.” Bloody well wished he didn’t. “Grand way to go, aye? Fit for the legends.” Maybe the bluff would have been more believable if he could have convinced himself that it was even half true.

  The beasts were almost upon them, and the fear in his chest had sunk so low he could feel the jig of his heart in his gut. But beneath the thunder of rushing, pounding, and skittering feet, he could have sworn he heard something else—a deep, crescendoing roar. It reverberated in his skull.

  Water broke from the tunnels behind the beasts, a tide of churning white that rushed across the cavern floor, driving the monsters in a mad rush before it.

  “You see it?” Nisus’s face had grayed to a sickly cast.

  Bilgewater.

  Amos cast about in search of salvation. If there was a Master Singer, and this was all a part of his plan, did it include their deaths here?

  Farther down, in front of the iron staircase, the cavern floor sloped up to slightly higher ground. The tunnels there were still dry. But it was too far. There was no time to run. No place to hide. No way to escape the oncoming flood. It overtook the back of the line, sending monsters tumbling head over heels, and then the mass of water and beasts slammed into Amos. His legs shot out from under him. The sword flew from his grip. He reached for Nisus, but the flood jerked the dwarf away.

  A moment of weightlessness.

  And then the torrent carried them over the edge into the Pit.

  41

  It was end of the world, and he was going to die by drowning. That thought brought the cold edge of panic knifing under Ky’s skin. Breath rasping in his throat, on hands and knees, he scrambled to the top of the bank, fleeing the rising river. But the tide continued, relentless. Within seconds the water lapped at his toes.

  Cade lurched up beside him. “It’s rising too fast. We’ve got to get out of here.” His eyes flicked in a sideways glance toward Ky, almost as if he expected a fight.

  No, siree, he wasn’t about to argue.

  Out in the middle of the river, a fierce current lashed around Birdie. The water had formed a sphere around her and the Takhran and the stranger who wielded the sword. If he strained his eyes, he could almost make out the figures inside—Earthshaker and Seabringer too. But they were hazy, indistinct, and very much out of his reach. He couldn’t do anything to help her now, and she couldn’t help them escape. They were both on their own.

  The river crested the bank and started spilling out over the pockmarked floor of the Pit. A child’s cry drew his gaze to the mass of captives retreating before the flood. It pricked Ky’s conscience, reminded him of his mission to free the slaves. Most of these captives were still chained. They had to get out before the flood trapped them.

  “Ky?” Cade shook him. “Did you hear me? We have to get out.”

  “Yeah, and we got to get them out too.” He nodded toward the captives. Cade’s brow furrowed. Ky could practically see him turning the decision over in his mind. He worked up a slew of arguments to convince him—one of which included putting his sling to good use, if needed.

  Cade slapped him on the back. “Quickly.”

  It stunned him enough that he just watched as Cade sloshed downriver toward the captives and offered his help at a shout. Then the water lapping around his ankles startled him into action. Together, he and Cade coaxed the captives on the far bank across the river, linking arms to create a chain and passing those who couldn’t swim from person to person. Once they were all across, Ky started them at a trot toward the far side of the Pit. None disputed their path or struck out on their own. They were eager for rescue.

  It was rough going. Few of the captives were fit to run. Whether from old age, injury, or illness, they looked to have been on their last legs when they were brought to the Pit, and though the Song-filled atmosphere seemed to have revived them, much like it had him and Cade, they were still weak limbed. The flood coiled around their calves, slowing them down, and the uneven surface of the ground sent them stumbling and tripping on their way. It wasn’t long before Ky had a small boy bouncing on his back and a one-legged man using his shoulder as a crutch. He spared a glance at Cade, who had an old woman’s arm slung across his shoulder and was practically carrying her.

  Cade flashed him a worried look. “We have to hurry.”

  Ky nodded, trying to ignore the voice hissing in the back of his mind that they would never find safety in time. Other than getting as far away from the spring as possible, neither of them knew where they were going. Not to mention that this was the strangest water he had ever encountered. He took it in as they ran. A thousand currents swept through the flood, pulling streamlets down the tunnels that spawned off the cavern, but he was able to stay upright. The force was there—even with water emptying down the tunnels, the level in the Pit rose—but he got the sense that it was restrained somehow.

  And that was a relief, because in some places that they passed, he could have sworn that the water was running up the walls—up—and who had ever seen a current do that before?

  Roaring filled his ears. He lurched to a stop. Water cascaded over the edges of the Pit, and straight ahead a dark, wriggling mass in the downpour caught his eye. Monsters. The sheet of water plummeted into the flood with a slap like thunder, and the impact sent a wave surging toward them. No time to brace for it. It hit Ky in the chest. Knocked him over backward. He came up, spluttering, and scrambled to right himself as he searched for the boy. Everywhere, gasping captives fought to stand.

  Cade worked down the line, helping people up, urging them to press on. Ky found the boy next to him and hauled him onto his back again. Jogging was out of the question now. The flood had risen to his knees. They stood before the far end of the Pit, and still he didn’t see a way out.

  “Staircase.” A Saari warrior pushed up beside him. Dusky hair dangled in beaded locks around his gaunt face. His sodden blue robe identified him as one of the Shantren, but there was no bloodstone around his neck. “I know where it is. I can get us out of here!”

  He nodded and let the Saari take the lead—until the warrior turned toward the side of the Pit covered by plunging water. Ky shouted for
him to wait, but the Saari squared his shoulders and dove into the torrent. An instant later he burst back through, shaking droplets from his hair.

  “The staircase still stands. There’s a narrow gap between the Pit wall and the water.”

  Cade nodded. “Let’s go.”

  The Saari offered his shoulder to the one-legged man and together they ducked beneath the waterfall. The others followed, one by one. Cade motioned for Ky to go next. He sucked in a breath for the plunge, but a shout caught his ear.

  “Gerroff, ye great bat-winged slumgullion! Leave us be.”

  Only one man spoke like that.

  Hawkness lurched through the floodwater on their left, sword in hand, with the dwarf Nisus at his side. A winged black horselike creature about the size of a hound chased after them, beak pecking at their backs. Hawkness spun and gave it a hefty kick in the throat that sent it skittering back. “Begone, ye foul, dimwitted, blatherin’ slewstop!”

  Ky blinked in surprise. But he had seen too many mad and insane things this day to be truly shocked by anything else, even the sight of Hawkness recovered and here in the Pit of all places. There would be time enough for tales later. For now, they had to survive.

  “Hawkness, over here!”

  The man wheeled around at Cade’s shout, and then both he and the dwarf waded toward them. “What in blazes are ye both doin’ here? Where’s my lass?”

  Cade spoke quickly. Before he had even finished explaining, Hawkness had started back across the Pit, only to be halted by Nisus with a hand to the chest and shoved toward the staircase, arguing the whole way. Ky ducked beneath the waterfall, and the boy’s arms tightened around his neck. Cade joined him, and then Nisus and Amos, still arguing. They clambered up the metal stairs and overtook the others near the top, breaking at last through a veil of water into the cavern. Floodwaters poured from most of the tunnels, but a ridge of dry ground remained, extending from the staircase to a set of tunnels on the west side. Ky swung the boy down from his back and hunched over his knees, forcing his lungs to begin working again.

  Nagging unease gnawed at his mind. He had forgotten something . . .

  It struck him with the force of a quimram charge. Paddy. In the rush to save the captives, he had forgotten those chained to the twelve stone columns. Dead, maybe. But by rights he should be dead too.

  He spun and pushed past Cade back toward the steps.

  Cade seized his arm. “Where are you going?”

  “I got to get Paddy.”

  “He’s dead, Ky.” Pity softened Cade’s voice. “I saw him too. There’s nothing we can do for him, but we can get these folks to safety.”

  Dead or not, he couldn’t leave Paddy behind a second time. “Not without Paddy.” He looked flat into Cade’s eyes. Jaw firm. Silently begging him to listen, just listen.

  Cade released his arm. “Be careful.”

  Ky shot down the staircase and plunged through the cascade into thigh-deep water. Splashing behind alerted him to Hawkness, limping at his heels, breathing heavily as he waded into the flood, but otherwise looking more alive than he had in a long while.

  Hawkness scowled. “C’mon, lad. Don’t waste time lollygagging. Let’s go.”

  •••

  The flood surged around Ky’s waist by the time they reached the circle of twelve columns. He slogged his way forward. The captives still hung bound in place. Pale, bloodless faces. Wide, staring eyes. Bodies slumped against the restraints. He didn’t know what he had been hoping. Or rather, he did, but it seemed far fetched now. And yet why should it? Both he and Cade should be dead. Was it too much to ask for Paddy too?

  He reached a tentative hand toward Paddy’s shoulder.

  Cold.

  The air drained from his lungs. “They’re dead.”

  “Maybe . . . and maybe not. I’ve seen a lot o’ strange things today, lad.” Hawkness worked his mouth around, then slid the sword from his belt. “Might want t’ step back.”

  “What do you mean to do?”

  “I was a prisoner in the Pit, lad. I saw a few things.” Hawkness gritted his teeth and swept the blade across the meat of his forearm. Sheathed the sword and then pressed the wound to the band across Paddy’s chest. It parted with a snap, and Paddy slumped forward, faster than Ky could catch him, and slipped beneath the flood.

  Hawkness peered into the water. “That was . . . unexpected.”

  Anger heating his neck, Ky sucked in a breath, ready to dive under and pull Paddy back out. Before he could, Paddy’s head broke the surface beside him, coughing and spluttering, eyes wide and staring. Ky gave a shout and shoved a shoulder under his arm. “Paddy! You all right?” His voice broke over the words.

  Recognition dawned on Paddy’s face. “Ky?”

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s me. We’re going to get out of here. Just hold tight.”

  With a roar like a dying quimram, Hawkness surfaced. He shook his head, scattering droplets. “Dove down. The other bands were already loosed. Should’ve been cinched at his waist an’ knees too, but they were already broken. His an’ the others.” Confusion knotted his brow. “The river must’ve loosened ’em somehow.”

  Didn’t matter how, the way Ky saw it, so long as they could be set free.

  Hawkness moved on to the next, and Ky hurried to help him. Three more slipped beneath the water and emerged again, shaky and disoriented, but alive. After the fourth Paddy hovered alongside, helping fish them out of the river and supporting them until they got their legs beneath them again. After the seventh, the flood had risen to their chests.

  The last restraints broke before the current, sending the remaining five beneath the water. They emerged, twelve all told. Men. Women. Children. Dwarves. All freed from the living death the Takhran had forced upon him. They clung to the columns and to each other, and one of them started laughing—a breathless, unbelieving sound—and a moment later they all joined in.

  Paddy turned to Ky, a grin wrinkling his freckled face. “So, what now, laddy-boyo?”

  An ocean now separated them from the staircase, and the current seemed stronger than before. He could feel it tugging at his ankles, threatening to pull him from his feet and sweep him away. Off to the side, the swirling vortex of light and water still enveloped Birdie, and through it Ky caught flashing glimpses of dueling figures. No help there.

  He took a deep breath and turned back to Hawkness and the twelve. “We swim.”

  Some of them look downright terrified at that, and he wondered how many actually could swim, but they had run out of other options. He linked an arm with Paddy, motioned for the others to grab hold, and then cut off through the water, kicking hard to make up for only having one free arm. No way would they be able to swim the long distance to the staircase, but if they reached the side of the Pit, they could work their way back holding onto the wall.

  It was a harrowing journey. Only about half of the twelve were capable in the water. They supported the others who kicked and thrashed and bobbed about in panic. Still, Ky doubted they would have made it if the water hadn’t seemed more buoyant than normal. Just like at the staircase, the angle of the cavern created a gap between the cascade and the cliff wall. Ky propelled himself through the waterfall and seized the cliff face. He hung there for a moment, limbs shaking from the strain. Paddy came through after him, and then the rest of the twelve. The current whipped fiercer here, tossed by the pressure of the flood dashing against the wall and the downpour from the cavern above, but at least they didn’t have to swim. As the level rose, they worked hand over hand higher up the Pit wall.

  When the churning below his kicking feet suddenly intensified, Ky realized that they were passing over one of the tunnels. He tightened his grip and shouted a warning over his shoulder. He didn’t start breathing easy again until he made it past the tunnel and the current beneath him eased. Then a tug on his arm jerked him off balance.

  He caught a glimpse of the surprised look on Paddy’s face as the boy slipped, slammed against the wal
l, and then was dragged into the tunnel current. Linked together as they all were, they didn’t stand a chance. The current peeled them from the side of the Pit and sucked them under. Next thing Ky knew, he hurtled through a dark passage. He tried to claw his way back to the surface, but the river twisted him head over heels until he couldn’t tell which way was up or down. He lost hold of Paddy. His lungs burned for air. Limbs quivered from the fight.

  Something slammed into him, knocking his jaws open and expelling the last stale air from his lungs. It startled him enough that he instinctively sucked in a breath, and then panicked, expecting water to flood his throat.

  And that’s when he realized just how strange this water was.

  Because he could breathe in it.

  The current eased, leaving him drifting instead of hurtling. It wasn’t dark, like he expected. The water itself had a strange luminescence that revealed his surroundings. Cupping his hands, he twisted around and saw Paddy floating beside him, eyes shut. That must have been what had hit him. Ky seized his friend and shook him until his eyes opened, then pointed to his own open mouth and the rise and fall of his chest. Paddy’s eyes bulged.

  And then he too was breathing.

  Together, they rounded up the twelve and shook them awake to the strange world they found themselves in. They sank to the bottom and walked upon the jagged rock floor of the tunnel, ducking behind stalagmites, hopping over massive boulders fallen from the ceiling. Then they swam to the top and crawled upside down across the roof, and then rolled and walked upon it, swinging around stalactites, jumping—falling—and then floating as they shook with silent laughter at each other’s antics.

  Ky hung back until Paddy swam circles around him and jabbed him in the ribs and acted like he was going to dunk him, and the oddness of trying to dunk someone already underwater caught him off guard. Laughing, he shot after Paddy and raced him to the next bend.