The Bloodheart Page 3

  “And what of the blood?” She fingers my cloak. “You hide it poorly.”

  “We ran afoul of some Nordics. They were after the boy.” There’s no profit in hiding things from her. I’d rather a barrister from Buckingham query me before a grand jury than face her interrogatives. “I was not about to leave him to fend for himself. And he hails from Applemont.”

  Ariya looks middeck, where Niall shows Luc the ship’s hold. “I don’t like this. I see dark clouds all around him. Poor visibility.”

  You can’t ask for a more worrisome set of words from an Aevorn. I pat her shoulder. “Fear not, Ariya. Your dauntless captain knows what he’s doing.”

  She gives me the look. Not a come-hither beckoning, but rather the long suffering glower of an older sister wondering when her sibling will cease tripping over her skirts.

  “Very well, Captain. I hope to the Airs you know what you’re doing.” Her wings spread wide, reaching twelve feet tip to tip, and with a powerful flap she’s airborne, up to the dark webs of the rigging.

  “Your captain hopes so too, Ariya,” I mutter.

  ~

  Niall and Ariya cast us off. Gridley races about, yipping his excitement. Luc lends a hand where he can, running out the green departure pennants fore and aft. Danny waves his lantern below as we rise from the berth. His shouted blessing is lost amidst the creak of the hull, the rustle of the sails and the rush of the wind.

  I am at the wheels, where I belong.

  A turn of the rise-wheel rotates a long arm through the deck, which I can feel rumble under my feet. That spins the gears that tighten the iron vise grasping an aethershard the size of a chicken’s egg—translucent, with pale green glow. Tighten the vise and the magic lifts your vessel. Loosen the grip and you descend. But take care not to do either with excessive vigor, lest the shard crack and you plummet.

  I take Sleet up above the rest of the docked ships, and turn us to starboard. Clouds whip along to the south in the Arch Stream. Bubbles rise in the glass tube affixed to the ahead-wheel and tell me we’re rising to three thousand feet, the lower edge of the Stream.

  Dawn peeks over the horizon, shooting a purple sky through with golds and reds. The air is quick and cold up here. Niall shouts out a greeting, and Ariya soars alongside, inspecting rigging and sails. She hovers long enough to toss me a salute: all is well.

  He gave me great complaint when I hired her as sailmistress, Niall did. Said he wanted nothing to do with the winged demons of her ilk. Watching her deftly sew a rip above a yardarm, then swoop to tighten a loose rope, I know her hire is worth every coin.

  We leave Bristol-on-Sky behind us. Hundreds of buildings cluster together on three floating islands, the rock below the green grass dangling toward the sea. Aethershard shimmers in clumps throughout the rock, keeping it afloat. It is all that prevents the entire town from plunging into the dark glass of the ocean below. Chimney smoke curls up from countless homes. The Bard’s Lighthouse is a pillar of white stone that we pass as we depart, its tenders flashing a beam of orange light from its mirrors.

  This is my life now, far aloft from the farm. Far from her memory. My heart sings and sinks all at once.

  This is magic.

  THE FOURTH CHAPTER

  ~

  MY INFORMANT WAS TRUE TO his word. Four days and one half are behind us as Applemont appears on the horizon. Ariya, of course, spots it first. It is a pleasant morning at this altitude, and there’s not a cloud for miles.

  The smell of rain suffuses everything. We passed through showers a fortnight past. It must have rained here as well. Ariya swoops between the rigging and alights by the ship’s wheels. “Isle ahead, Captain. Perhaps twelve miles.”

  We’re clipping along at a considerable pace, perhaps twenty knots. It won’t be long, then. I peer ahead, squinting to make out the isle. Yes, there is a speck out there. “It’s up a ways, isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps 10,000 feet.” Ariya folds in her wings.

  I don’t doubt her judgment of distances. Eyes that sharp miss nothing. “You’d best call it then, before Niall sees the isle. You do recall his joy when he is the first to sight land.”

  Ariya’s mouth twists into a wry smile. Niall stands at the bow, nose lifted to the wind, testing the air for scents. “I would not want him to become too confident.”

  She’s off and striding to Niall with such purpose I have a feeling her report to him will be anything but humble. I chuckle and reach down to rub the top of Gridley’s head. He’s curled at my feet on the sun-warmed wood of the deck. “Not much for their enthusiasm, are you boy?”

  Gridley gives a gaping yawn. He graces me with a withering Try not to interrupt my rest and nestles his chin on his forepaws.

  “Captain?” Luc is at my side with alarming suddenness. Did the boy not make a sound when he moved? Small wonder he avoided the corsair hordes when they sacked his town.

  “We’ve sighted land, Luc. I suspect it’s your home, if this chart is decent.” It’s tucked into the folds of my cloak. I’ve read it enough on this voyage to memorize it.

  “Home. I don’t think I can call it that anymore.” He crouches by Gridley, who deigns his presence a great deal more than mine.

  Talk of home makes me leery. What home have I except for Sleet? “I daresay Gridley has valued your company these past few days, lad. And you’ve made good account of yourself working the rigging with Ariya and Niall.”

  A sharp shout echoes across the deck. At the bow, Niall has his arms upraised and an expression of fury on his face. Ariya stands before him, arms folded, smile smug. He bellows something else, muted by the wind and their distance, but she merely extends her wings and rises into a lazy glide that takes her out away from the ship.

  “They’ve been very kind to me, if not to each other,” Luc says. “It helps scare off the cold.”

  “The cold? Luc, we’ve not had a night of frost this entire voyage. Why even Niall hasn’t resorted to putting on his fur to stay warm.”

  “It isn’t that kind of cold. It’s the cold that comes with darkness. With death.”

  Now he’s gone and given me the shivers. Can’t explain to you the reason why, but there’s something in the way his voice lingers in the mind.

  Ice prickles my hands. Both of them this time. I grip the rise-wheel with my right and crank. “Up ship!” I holler. “We’ve altitude to gain before we make landfall, lad. And when we do…”

  The pause carries on between us. “Are you afraid, Captain?”

  We lock eyes. His show no fear. Can I hide the trepidation in mine own soul? “When we do, you stay close by my side.”

  ~

  Applemont is a small village, sitting atop a speck of land a half mile across on a grassy green hillock. White apple blossoms litter the land like snow.

  It is a beautiful sight, even with the whole of the habitations reduced to burnt husks.

  Smoke still wafts above the village as a storm cloud settles on the sea. What were once neat, clean lines of wood frame and wattle and daub huts are now blackened, twisted skeletons. Nothing moves except for the blossoms and the leaves.

  There are bodies on the ground, charred and smudged against the green grass.

  I will not despair. Gridley follows Luc to the side. He whines and nuzzles against the boy’s leg.

  “There’s no mistaking the corsairs hit this place.” Niall stands by, arms folded. He wrinkles his nose. “It reeks of their cowardice. Death and savagery.”

  “Keep close watch, Niall, and your claws ready. They may not have quit the town.”

  A low rumble emanates from his throat. “I pray they give me a chance and a reason.”

  Ariya soars up to our side, cresting the gunwales. “Shall I scout ahead, Captain?”

  “Yes, do. But be wary.”

  She frowns at me as if I’m a child asking a nonsensical question, then flies off ahead of Sleet. The docks are built into the side of the hill, about twenty feet above a broad field. There are enough s
lips for a dozen craft, yet none are present. Cut ropes flap in the breeze that sends shivers through the branches of the apple trees.

  The silence is ever present. I wish for bells marking our arrival, stevedores running for mooring lines. But no one comes. Nothing stirs.

  Ariya makes several quick passes over the town. She returns to the ship and waves an all clear sign to me. Safe to take her in to berth, then.

  We put in. Niall ties off the moorings. Luc stays near the gunwales, eyes wide. Searching for something, perhaps.

  The stench of death is strong. Burnt wood, decomposing flesh, dirt still damp from the rains. The path from the docks leads up the hillock to the ruined village, curving as it wends around a large rain pond the shape of a teardrop.

  “Get your gear, my friends. Niall, take a musket.”

  Niall ducks below deck into the small cabin that acts as our weapons locker. He brings back the long brown firearm, and hands me my wheellock pistol. Niall’s katana, its blade slender and curved, rests in a black scabbard etched with brass dragons intertwined. My falchion is still on my belt.

  Ariya lands on the path. “There is nothing alive I can see, Captain. There’s bodies everywhere. Mostly women and children.”

  Niall growls. I put a hand on his arm, hoping to cool off the temper flaring. “What of the menfolk?”

  “Off the edge.” Luc’s haunting pronouncement makes all three of us turn his way. Tears glisten in his eyes. “They sent the men off the edge.”

  My insides churn. That’s no decent way to die, but I cannot say I haven’t contemplated it in my darkest despair. Falling, flailing, and screaming for long beats of the heart, faster and faster, until you hit the water with enough force to shatter iron. And if you somehow survive the fall, body battered and broken, well, it’s a curse rather than a blessing. Rather cut my throat than drown choking on salt water or be devoured by beasts of the deep.

  “Niall, my crossbow.” Ariya snaps her fingers and flicks her wrist.

  Niall hops the gunwales and tosses the weapon to her. He rummages for the quiver and sends that sailing, too. “Anything else thy heart desires, fair lady?”

  “Less of your cheek and more of your caution,” she says.

  “Come along, then.” I strap the wheellock to its holster and reach for Luc’s hand. “This Bloodheart…take us there.”

  Luc nods. He wipes away the tears and puts his hand in mine. So small and soft grasped in a man’s. Mine must feel as if it’s made of tree bark.

  Our band sets out on foot up the path. There are no birds chirping, no animal sounds. Life has forsaken this isle. We round a corner and Ariya hisses in a breath. A pair of dogs lay gutted, the ground beneath them angry crimson.

  Gridley snarls. His hackles rise.

  “Steady, boy. Steady on.” My entreaties come in hoarse whispers.

  Luc releases his grip on my hand and walks ahead of us. Either he doesn’t see the ruined animals or he chooses not to. Smoke drifts across the path, putting his form into shadow. Gridley stays near, ears perked. He neither barks nor whines. I envy his focus.

  Niall has the musket slung over his shoulder and one hand on the hilt of his blade. His glare could melt iron. “Have we any clue whence this pup is taking us, Bowen, or have we embarked on a leisurely stroll?”

  “Enough, Niall. Trust the boy.”

  “Do you?”

  A fair question. I have no reply. But we both watch the way Gridley protects Luc. That is sufficient. “Trust me, then.”

  “Ah. You pay me well enough for that.” Niall puts on a great grumble, but I know it’s more than money that keeps him by my side.

  Luc stops at the entrance to the village, at the opposite end of the rain pond from the decks. The surface of the water is littered with blackened straw and burnt cloth. Everything smells fouler than the inside of a reptiloid’s latrine. Niall gags.

  “Luc? What’s wrong?” My hand slips beneath my cloak, reassured by the presence of the wheellock pistol’s stock.

  “Father took me to the temple once. We didn’t go often because it’s in a secret place, and only the magi are allowed. Sometimes the good can go, too.” Luc frowns. “I’m trying to remember the way. Everything is … wrong.”

  “Take your time.” I give Niall a nudge and a warning glare before he can say whatever is vitriol bubbling behind his lips. The tensions among us tightens as a noose with every step forward. Boots crunch on dirt and gravel. These are the only sounds—these, and our hushed breaths.

  The harsh cawing of crows builds. They’re pecking at the remains of the fallen. Ariya whistles, a short, sharp noise that makes the ears ring. The crows scatter.

  My blood boils. Women and children slaughtered. Men discarded off the edge as refuse. More and more corpses scattered amongst the desecrated homes.

  Niall unsheathes his blade with a soft swish of metal against leather. Its curve catches the sunlight.

  Luc leads us to the center of the village, where a circle of paved stones sits unscathed by the fire. There are eight stones, four large and four smaller, each one etched with the points of the compass rose. North, south, east and west are beveled into the rock, which is whiter than any stone I’ve seen before. Luc stands at the center, which is carved with a radiant sun—no, three of them inset into each other, sharing the same rays. He holds his arms out from his sides.

  Gridley stands apart. He sniffs at the edge of the circle and paws at the stones.

  I kneel with him. “What is it boy? What do you sense?”

  He gives me an all too familiar look of worry.

  “Hold fast.” I pat him on the head.

  Niall paces, nose to the air, blade twitching. “I don’t like this. They could be waiting. The corsairs could have left men behind to pick through the remains of the town.”

  “You would have sniffed them out long before now.” Ariya’s voice is soft enough to drift away on the breeze. Her eyes are bright and flit from point to point. She misses nothing. “There is no one here. Correct, Captain?”

  “She’s right. The tracks are old.” I brush my hand over a muddle of prints pressed into the dirt. Rough soles. Heavy leather. Uneven edges. Typical of the stout boots employed by corsairs and sailors alike.

  “Captain!” Luc’s startled whisper jolts my heart. I draw my sword. Ariya draws two daggers from somewhere concealed beneath her wings.

  He steps onto the suns at the center of the plaza. “I remember now. I remember where father took me, and how to get there.”

  “Shark’s blood, boy, make quick with the answer!” Niall’s growl rumbles from deep in his chest.

  Luc closes his eyes. “We are here already.”

  He presses his hands together beneath his lips. Words form but I cannot hear them. He stands in a trance for so long I fear he will never reawaken. Yet none of us makes a move to jostle him, not even Niall. We hold our blades ready, and I… I hear it. The whisper in my heart.

  It’s been so long. Yet I hear the words as clear as when they first came to me the day my beloved died.

  Seek the home of the soul.

  Agony buries me, heavier than any storm’s wave. Seek? My beloved sough, mere months before she fell ill. Whispered that very set of speech to me from her deathbed.

  He abandoned her.

  “What trickery is this?” Ariya’s words are expelled in a hiss. “Do you hear the voice?”

  Niall turns aside, ready to strike with his katana, the muscles of his forearms taught like ship’s rigging. “The spirits of the soulmages reach for us, trying to drive us mad.”

  “Be quiet!” My command rings out across the plaza. Gridley whines at me, but I ignore him. The buzzing is back in my head. I ignore that too. My thoughts push out everything but this infernal boy. “Luc, I need answers.”

  “Let me tell you what Father said.” Luc turns to face us. Tears run rivulets down his cheeks, but his voice is full of happiness. “‘For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy tow
ard them that fear him. As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.’”

  With that he steps out to his left, both feet pressing upon the E for east. The stone clicks. And glows the same as an ember loose from the fire.

  Luc steps immediately right, onto the W for west. It does the same as the E. Both shine like flame. The ground beneath us rumbles.

  I snag Luc’s arm and pull him aside. Gridley scuffs back in the dirt, barking madly. The tremors continue as the multiple suns at the center of the plaza split into seven segments, along seams that were until now invisible to us.

  The seven fragments melt back into the rock, revealing a set of spiraling steps that descend into the deep darkness of a cavern. A faint yellow glow emanates from crystals set into the white and gray stone walls.

  Luc slips free of my grasp, an easy enough thing because my hands have gone numb. He takes three steps down the stairs, then turns to us. “Don’t be afraid.”

  He disappears into the passage.

  Gridley barks once more, whimpers. He bolts down the stairs before I can muster a whistle to stop him.

  By the five winds, what is this place?

  I turn to Niall and Ariya. They stare at me, awaiting my lead. “Come on.”

  I step inside and am swallowed in cold darkness.

  THE FIFTH CHAPTER

  ~

  IT’S DARK AND DAMP IN here. The cavern drops down a hundred feet or more. I lose track of how many steps we take on stone stairs slick with moisture.

  There’s little in the way of light. Every full turn a sickly yellow crystal emits a dull glow. Luc leads us on, heedless of my heart’s pounding. Heedless of the storm bells clanging their alarm at the back of my mind.

  “It’s not far now.” Luc’s feet patter lightly on the steps. “Stay near.”

  “No worries about that.” Niall’s grumble reverberates off the rock. “Can’t see my own feet.”

  There’s a shuffling of boots. Ariya mutters a curse. “Those are my feet, you land-trapped oaf. Watch where you are stomping.”