“Nothing on Glaerhanig will help you through that, can withstand magic waste. Nothing but more magic. If you know of any mages close by…”
I sigh. “At least you would survive. Could carry on.”
Her eyes are narrow as she turns to me. “If you suggest such a thing again, I’ll kill you myself, and use your body as a shield to escape.”
I don’t have the energy to laugh. And, if I’m being honest, I’m not entirely sure she’s joking. “I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s just, after that. Back there. Surviving. I thought...Well, it’s stupid.”
Her silence is an invitation.
“Ora had her moment to take me. Has had so many moments, to end all this, since we started. The fact that I’m still alive, that we survived… Well... This wasn’t how I expected this to end.”
“You think yourself goddess touched?” Her words are incredulous.
“No, not exactly. Just...”
Siri puts her hand over mine, covering it. “Ora, Cailleach, the gods, they don’t work like that.” She squeezes, and her words are fierce. “They help those that help themselves, reward those that fight, and fight, and fight. And sometimes, they die. And then, they are rewarded after.”
“Is that what you all did, when you struck your deal? Fought?”
“Yes,” she says simply. “We fought for years before we sought out the goddess. And when the odds were overwhelming, we were blessed, and cursed. And then, we fought again. Life is conflict, on every level. Eating, seeking shelter, fucking, living. It is always a battle. This is no different.”
We sit, staring, for a long time. I have nothing to respond with, but her words sink deep into me.
She’s right. From the moment my view of my village, burned and ravaged, changed my entire world, I have never thought of giving up. Never quit.
And I never will.
I turn my grip over, lace my fingers with hers. “Thank you.”
“Thank me when we escape. Thank me with your lips, and your cock. That will be another battle, one I will relish.”
I swallow, breathless from more than the heat. There’s something about her no bullshit, to the point attitude that I’m finding more and more appealing, for some reason.
Emeree shakes with laughter.
As her words fade, as we sit in silence, I watch the rampaging liquid across from us. Watch the fat dollops of death as they’re flung outward, as they ooze back along the cave’s natural incline to be reabsorbed. The shower and flow is hypnotizing, and I find myself lost in its rhythm, with how each bubble expands slowly before exploding with terrific speed.
I feel like I can almost predict where the next one will rise. Can understand which way it will spray, based on where it forms.
In fact…
I stand, abruptly. Siri comes with me, a question written in her eyes.
“I can make it,” I say, putting a hand on her axe. “Change form, and I’ll carry you across.”
Her grimace is a little terrifying. “Ewan, if this is some ploy to throw me across while you heroically sacrifice yourself…”
“It’s not.”
“Good. Dead heroes are worthless. I prefer survivors.”
I turn back to the storm, watching. “No one’s dying today. I can make it.”
“How?”
“Emeree’s gift,” I say, hoping it’s true. My body is in shambles, and I’ve used the bonds too many times since we delved below. The image of my heart exploding in my chest a few steps from freedom pierces my mind, terrifying.
That won’t stop me from trying.
Siri's eyes measure me, weighing. Finally, she nods. “Be careful. There’s not much that can kill us,” she says, nodding to Emeree’s dark length, “but falling into that will.”
Then she takes me by the back of the head, kissing me again, sudden and violent. Our teeth clack together, and the pain where she bit me before is intense, but I don’t pull away. There’s a promise in her kiss, and a goodbye, in case this goes wrong. So much I can read, from her lips, and her bond. So much from someone I met only a day ago.
It’s surreal. And wonderful. And it firms my resolve.
I can do this.
As our lips part, Siri shimmers, losing form. She drains, into a thousand shards of crimson light, trailing along my face, inside my armor, along my body, and I shiver at a sensation I’ll never fully get used to, one I will never get enough of.
And then she’s gone, sunken into her axe.
I slide her into a loop at my belt, adjusting carefully so I don’t slice my leg off as I dash through the superheated waste. Twin waves of calm press into me from the Sirens, of confidence.
No time like the present.
I approach a second time, cautions, resting on the balls of my feet. Ready. I wait for my moment, watching as the constant deluge crests and ebbs. There are moments when the way is almost clear, when bubbles formed haven’t burst yet. That will be my moment.
I balance on the balls of my feet, watching. My throat is so tight I can barely breathe, and fat drops of sweat roll down my forehead, stinging my eyes.
A few chances come and go, moments that I almost seize Emeree’s bond and dart forward, but each time, something holds me back. It’s not the part of my brain telling me that this is crazy, that I’m about to die, that I can’t possibly make this. No. I push that voice aside, refuse to let fear seize my heart. If I’d succumbed to that part of my mind, I would never have chased after my people what seems like a lifetime ago.
No, it’s something else. The chances so far just don’t seem right.
So, I wait, lungs burning, muscles tense and corded.
And then, before I can process that it’s happening, the moment arrives, and I go. Emeree’s bond vibrates with readiness, and I seize it, tug.
Time slows. Fat droplets of black liquid slow, then freeze in air. The constant gurgling and plop of the pond grinds to stillness, and even the cacophony of sound raging in the cavern stretches to a long, low note before quieting.
I take a few agonizing moments to check my way. The path is marked by huge dollops of the waste, hanging across my path, but I think I can make it. My mind has seized on a lull in the explosive bubbling, and I thank Cailleach my instincts were true.
But just before I launch forward, I notice something. Movement.
The launched balls of waste seem motionless, but in a few places, they’ve impacted the path and exploded. Those tiny strings of waste are moving, arcing upward with glacial speed. The heatwaves above the pool are moving, too, like a slowly twisting mirage.
Damn. I’d taken for granted that the dangers I’ve faced are slow, human, paralyzed by the incredible speed Emeree’s gift grants me, but time hasn’t really frozen. It still flows, moves ahead, and if something is fast enough…
No matter. I still have to get through, now. My heart thickens in my chest, already beating like a hammer against my ribs. It’s only been a few seconds, and I’m running out of time.
I spring forward, moving as carefully as I can into the gauntlet. I don’t have time to walk, to carefully pick my way through, but I still take it slower than I’d like. It’s hotter as I pass between the first two globs, so powerful that I’m sure it would blister me if I lingered.
It’s a tight fit, and I slide between them, breath frozen in rictus lungs. My skin, wet with perspiration moments ago, is dry as old bone, and for a terrifying moment I have to close my eyes as I pass, the heat is so intense. It feels like I’m sitting in the middle of a roaring furnace. Hair on my arms raises, and the air feels electrified, static, even malevolent.
I open my eyes as the heat recedes at my back. Ahead is another ball, larger than those before, hanging directly in the path. I duck, move to slide under it.
My heart races. I’m barely through, and my body’s already working, tiring. I’ve used Siri's gift so many times since we descended, adding Emeree’s to the mix killing me. Literally. My muscles ache, feel ripped apart, and there’s a pai
n behind my eyes that’s almost blinding, amplified by each explosive beat of my heart.
I have to get through this. I won’t survive long, even if I don’t touch the magic waste.
I dance through, ducking, weaving around slowly drifting waste. Halfway along, the first exploded burst is trailing tiny rivulets upward, but it’s close enough to the pool that I rush past it easily, but other dangers slow me. Each ball trails a tiny thread of droplets that break away, trailing like the tail of a black meteor. They’re no more than pinpricks, but are still terrifying. They create tiny fences I must move around, and some are so tiny they’re almost invisible.
The heat, the murkiness, my fear and exhaustion wrack me, and I make my first mistake.
Two massive droplets create a barrier I have to duck around just past the halfway point. Breathing in little huffs that don’t fill me with enough air, I try to pass behind them, skirting away from the pond, but there’s not enough space.
My hand. I raise it in horror as a droplet burns away at my skin. The pain is intense, immediate, like nothing I’ve ever felt.
I got too close. And almost invisible droplet burns away at my leather glove, melting through, like a blazing ember. I almost panic, wrenching the glove off as I rush forward. I toss it, but the moment it leaves my grip it freezes mid throw, no longer bound to me.
But in my fear, my panic to escape, I stumble, almost falling to my knees. There’s a huge droplet just in front of me, and I barely arrest a fall that would have burned a hole through my chest. As it is, I come to a stop a handspan away, and heave a huge breath.
Burning. I’m too close. I can smell my leathers heating, starting to smoke. I pull back, move around the slag, biting back a scream at pain that radiates from my hand. Tears spring from my eyes and dry almost instantly, and I can barely think as I draw closer to the end.
My mouth is moving, over and over. I’m mumbling, not even realizing it, praying. Gods help me.
I can’t stop, don’t even have time to examine my wound. Each beat of my heart is one closer to death, to it ripping itself to shreds in my chest. Blood pulses like thunder through me, and the only sound I hear is the thrum, thrum, thrum of it growing stronger, and stronger.
Ora, leave me be. Look beyond my soul...Ora…
Almost there. The yawning dark of the tunnel out looms before me. So close. But just before it is another exploded bubble, directly in the center of my path. It radiates up from the ground like a flower of death, it’s little strings of death as high as my waste. Above it, no more than a few feet, is another black droplet, hanging motionless, it’s tail longer than any I’ve seen so far.
I can’t go around, there’s no room.
This is going to be bad.
Thrum. My heart. Ora. My lips.
Here we go.
I dive through the tiny hole, through death above and below.
Thrum. My body hangs, and for a moment I feel as frozen as the world around me. A moment I wonder if this is the end, if I’ve failed my family, the Sirens, everyone.
And then, I’m through. I roll, tumble in a clatter of weapons and pack, smashing to the ground with bone jarring force.
But I don’t notice any of that, because nothing exists but pain.
My leg. It must have passed too close. It’s agony, consuming, so blinding I want to roll into the pond and die to make it stop.
I can’t move, need to get clear. Need to get into the tunnel. But I can’t. My body shakes, rigid, and Emeree’s gift flees my grip with one last gallop of my heart. Reality returns, time screams forward, and I can’t even scream, the pain is so intense.
I can only lay, curled, shaking with teeth clenched so hard I’m afraid they’ll shatter.
Siri saves me, saves us. Erupting from her axe in an eyeblink, she grabs me by my leathers, dragging me to the tunnel’s mouth, out of the heat. As she pulls, a thick drop of waste smashes to the ground where I’d laid moments before, and rivulets of it chase us as us she yanks me along.
Then, we’re clear. The heat recedes as she pulls me further, and then she drops me, falling to her knees.
“Leg,” I moan, body shaking. The pain’s not as intense as it was before, but is still so incredible that I can’t think, can barely speak. Mostly I just want it to end. By any means necessary.
Siri pulls Emeree from my back, then takes her and cuts away the leather at my legs. A hole the size of a pea is burned clear through, and I can’t believe that such a tiny droplet can cause so much agony.
Siri's face is granite as she examines my wound. I manage to jerk my head to get a view. There’s a tiny, black hole in the side of my calf, and from it I can smell burning flesh. The waste has only torn into the surface of my skin, is less than a finger’s depth, but I can feel it raging, burning, burrowing deeper.
Siri frowns. “This will hurt,” she says, echoing her earlier words. Without waiting for my answer, she takes Emeree’s point and cuts directly into my flesh.
I open my mouth to gasp, to scream, but nothing comes. In fact, I barely feel her slice into me. The pain from the waste is so incandescent, so consuming, that nothing else penetrates.
Siri cuts around the wound with surgical efficiency, teeth grit in concentration. Emeree slices into me effortlessly, and my blood hisses and absorbs into her, like before, as a chunk of my body comes away. It’s small, no bigger than a stone, cut perfectly around the waste and deep enough to take the droplet of death with it.
She casts it aside, where it bounces once, hissing and burning. In moments, the flesh is consumed, ashing away, and all that remains is the pinprick droplet, boiling madly against the stone.
Siri searches my pack, pulling free my herbs and bindings. “Tell me,” she says. “Emeree always knew what to use, but I’m no healer.”
I use a shaking hand to sift through the pile, find some duskwort. The grey moss crackles in my grip as I take a pinch. “Chew...it. Pack the wound.”
Siri doesn’t hesitate, pops the duskwort in her mouth. She chews, then pulls the wet mass from her mouth, making a face. “Disgusting.” She stuffs it into the still bleeding hole in my leg. I still can’t feel it, can barely sense her touch. The pain recedes, but isn’t gone, and the area is numb, overloaded.
Strong hands wrap the wound with quick, methodical loops, and she ties it tight. The bandage turns crimson almost immediately, but there’s isn’t much blood, only a tiny spot. “Duskwort...Stops infection. Halts bleeding.” I try to sit up, fail. “Only...Mildly poisonous.”
Siri's eyes widen, and she spits. “Poison?” Her face darkens.
“Joking…” I manage, breath huffing against warm stone.
Siri laughs, shaking her head. “Crazy,” she says, helping me sit. She rests my back against the cave wall, and then settles next to me.
“I feel like shit,” I whisper, examining my ungloved hand. There’s a tiny scorch where the droplet struck leather, but I was fast enough that I won’t lose a chunk of my finger, too.
A heavy hand claps my shoulder, sending a ratting wave of pain through my torso. “Look like shit, too. But that was courageous. You show no hesitation, no fear.”
I laugh, wincing at the ache in my ribs. “Plenty of fear.”
“Feeling terror and acting anyway is more admirable than feeling nothing at all. Less stupid, too.”
I lean, rest my head on her shoulder, don’t have the strength to answer. I close my eyes, try to ignore my broken body, the ache that pulses from every part of me.
Siri's poking through her pack. My thoughts drift, feel random. “Where did it go?”
She hesitates. “Go?”
“Your pack. When you go into your axe.”
“Oh.” She resumes picking through it, then pulls a flask of something free. She opens it, sniffs, then growls in appreciation. “Drink. For the pain.”
I do, a long gulp that leaves me coughing, sending fresh waves of burn through me. But almost instantly, the alcohol flows through me, taking my mind furth
er with it, numbing me.
“I don’t understand the magic,” Siri says, taking the flask. Her fingers brush mine, linger a moment before pulling away. “Thora knows more. But anything we’re wearing, touching, goes with us when we change.”
I raise my head, squint at her. “What if we…”
“Nothing living,” she clarifies.
“Pity,” I mumble. “If clothes didn’t go with you…”
She laughs, a rumble I can feel through her long body where it presses against mine. “You don’t need to resort to trickery to see me naked.”
Somehow, impossibly, through the pain and numbness and liquor, my cock stirs at the thought. She’s so close, so warm. I take another drink I don’t remember accepting. All I can think about is how her pussy felt as she gloved me, her feral grunts in my ear as I fucked her.
Siri senses something through our bond and laughs darkly. “Later. Right now, I’m not sure either of us would survive.”
I laugh again, immediately regret it. “You’re probably right.”
20
“Get your hands off!”
The words, echoing from above, halt Siri and I in our tracks, just as I sense a familiar darkness in the still air. Rot, putrefaction. Myranda’s magic.
I put a finger to my lips and then point upward. She nods, hefting her axe.
“I said keep back! I am on an errand for General Straithe! I am His Grace’s chamberlain and I will not be treated –” His words cut off abruptly with a shriek of pain. The blow is hard enough that I can hear it from where we crouch in the algae’s dim light.
A body hits the ground, followed by the cruel laughter of at least three or four people. “Now,” says one, voice high and mocking, “I’m only gonna ask you this one more time. What’s the general’s lapdog doin’ out here, with only two lads escorting you, middle of nowhere with three fully laden horses, eh?”
As if to punctuate his words, I hear one of the horses whicker in fear. Glaer, I think.
The chamberlain sobs, once. “I told you, I don’t know. I was only told to lead them here and wait.”
There’s another impact, what sounds like an armored foot impacting ribs. The chamberlain squeals. More laughter. “Sounds like a right bit ‘o shite to me, honestly. General’s the new boss in Minster Lowe, and he sends you out here set for a journey, don’t tell ya why?” Another kick.
Steel Sirens Page 26