Blood Storm: The Books of Blood and Iron (20 page)

Aisa managed a smile. She seemed to be collecting sisters—first an orc, now a mermaid. And perhaps the Gardeners. But that thought was big, too big, and she pushed it aside to consider later. Too much was happening now.

“Sister,” she said. “I was glad to help. Is that why you saved our ship?”

“Of course, my daughter.” Imeld took her other hand while all around them, the merfolk swam rings about the
Fish.
“Ynara said you needed to find the Key, and we have brought you here.”

A mental lightning bolt yanked Aisa upright. “The
Key? We are at the Key? But that was at least two days away!”

“The merfolk are one with the sea and we have ways, especially for our friends.” Markis grinned beneath his spiky tattoos, and Aisa wondered what it would be like to grow up with a father so fierce and proud instead of one who drank and gambled away his daughter’s life. A twinge of envy for Ynara pinched her.

“Where is it, then?” Aisa asked. “The Key?”

“Perhaps four or five leagues that way.” Markis gestured. “We will thread our way through the Nine Isles to find it. But the Key is a dangerous place, daughter, filled with perils you cannot imagine. Why would you wish to go there?”

Aisa swallowed. “We are looking for Grandfather Wyrm.”

At those words, all three merfolk gave her a sharp look. “Grandfather Wyrm?” Ynara repeated. “But he . . . he is unkind.”

“To say the least,” Imeld spat. “Thank Bosha he spends most of his time asleep. When he wakes, he hungers. He has devoured countless of our kind, created earthquakes and tidal waves and storms. What do you want with him?”

“He can give us the power of the shape,” Aisa said, “so our friends do not die.” And she briefly explained.

Markis ran his finger over his facial tattoos. “I see. We want to help you, my daughter”—there was that little wave of affection again—“but we must keep our distance. Grandfather Wyrm is too great a danger. And in any case, we cannot enter the Key.”

Warm water sloshed over the whale’s back, and it spouted cool mist again. Aisa asked, “What exactly is the Key?”

“It is a place between worlds,” Imeld said. “Only the bravest go there. You will have to see for yourself.”

“Who are your parents, Aisa?” Markis asked suddenly. “You look so . . . familiar.”

This took Aisa aback. “My parents? Er . . . my family lives in Irbsa.”

“The desert country.” Imeld shuddered. “How did you bear it?”

“My father was Bahir, son of Muhar. I do not know if he is dead or alive these days. My mother was Durrah. I have two older brothers—”

“Durrah,” Markis interrupted. “Durrah. I must think.”

“In the meantime, daughter,” Imeld said, “we must return you to your ship. You look exhausted. When did you last sleep?”

Aisa thought about it, and realized she couldn’t remember. The expression on her face told Imeld everything she needed to know.

“That is what I thought,” she said with a tart maternal tone. “It will be several hours before the ship arrives at the Key. We will be sure to wake you.”

•   •   •

“Aisa!” Danr caught her up in an embrace that encompassed the entire world and squeezed half an ocean out of her. Aisa sighed, letting his scent come over her and feeling safe, if only for the moment.

They were on one of the upper decks. Talfi was running toward them along with the golem, Captain Greenstone, Harebones, and half the crew. The
Fish
remained rock-steady, and even after her short time in the water with the merfolk, it felt strange to be on a solid surface in dry air.

Everyone swarmed around her, asking questions all at once. The spiral of voices combined with her exhaustion into an overwhelming whirlpool, and she put up her hands.

“Enough!” Greenstone barked. “Full story later. For now—Aisa, did the merfolk bring us here?”

She nodded.

“Is this the Key?”

“It is a few leagues away. They will lead us.”

“Update,” said the golem. “Update.” Its eyes projected an image of Ranadar sitting at the bottom of the tank. Nearby, Kalessa was chained by one leg to a tree. Water had reached Ranadar’s shins.

Talfi sank to the deck with his face in his palms, as if all his strength had left him. Alarmed, Aisa knelt next to him in her sodden blouse and skirt. “What is it?”

“The tank,” he said into his hands. “I was so afraid.” And here he said something about numbers and volume that Aisa did not follow. “We can do it now. Ran doesn’t have to die.”

“Everyone back to work!” Greenstone bellowed. “Passengers below so you’re out of the way.”

Danr hauled both Aisa and Talfi upright, and they climbed down one of the hatchways belowdecks. Aisa’s clothing sloshed and her shoes squished with every step, but she did not feel at all uncomfortable.

Talfi led the way with the golem through the hold, twisting around crates and barrels and ducking under beams. Aisa caught him swiping at his face, then noticed Danr doing the same. She touched his arm.

“I am fine, Hamzu,” she murmured. “The merfolk saved me, as we saved Ynara. I was able to swim with them, after all this time!”

“You got your dream, Aisa.” He took her damp hand. “I’m . . . so happy for you. And I’m relieved that you’re alive. When that wave took you over the edge . . .” His voice caught. “You took my soul with you.”

“I was terrified,” Aisa said, skirting a tall coil of rope. “But only for a moment. Ynara caught me quickly. I was worried for all of
you
.”

“I should have been there to save you,” Danr maintained. “That’s my job. I’m your—”

“There was nothing you could have done.” Now she reached up to touch his face. How fine it was just to touch him. “I am glad you were worried for me.”

“Update! Update!” said the golem.

“Shut up!” Danr roared at it. To everyone’s surprise, the golem fell silent.

“Now,
that’s
magic,” Talfi said.

They arrived at the tiny cabins. Aisa had one to herself, while Danr and Talfi kept one together. So much privacy was no doubt a luxury to the sailors, who shared rooms by the dozen, but Aisa was too tired to give it much thought. Talfi went into his and Danr’s cabin, and the golem went with him. Danr paused at her door.

“Aisa,” he said in that soft, husky voice, “I meant it when I said my soul went with you.”

He touched her face with a warm, callused hand. His liquid brown eyes melted her heart and weakened her knees. Soft love spilled through her, filling her like a wineglass. She remembered her earlier regret at not telling him about her visions, and now there was so much to say. The words piled up inside her, but it was suddenly hard to speak again. Why was it easy to say these things inside her head but not with her voice?

“Danr,” she managed, “Danr, I . . . I . . .”

“I’m going to bring you the power of the shape,” he said stoutly. “I’ll be human for both of us, and we can get married and even have children. Do you want children? Death
said you can have children again, but we’ve never talked about it.”

She fumbled. “Oh, Danr—this isn’t the time to—”

“Yeah, sure.” He ran a hand through coarse black hair. “Look, I’m ready to drop, and so are you. Let’s get some sleep.”

Suddenly, she wanted to hear the truth, absolute truth, and she blurted out the words. “Danr, will being human make you happy?”

“It will,” he said without the usual harshness, “if it means we can be together. And there’s more to it.”

Before she could ask what he meant by that, he continued, propelled by his status as a truth-teller.

“I’ve always walked between worlds, half Stane, half Kin, and not belonging to either one. It’s always made my life hard. Finding the power of the shape will be my chance to change that. I want to be more than half a man.”

“You are always a man,” Aisa told him. “You could be nothing less to me.”

“Tell that to my troll side,” he said with a wry twist to his mouth. “We should get some rest. We’re both ready to pass out.”

When he said this, it became more true. Fatigue pulled so heavily at Aisa’s limbs she could barely keep herself upright. Calling up one last piece of courage from her mental merfolk mask, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling at least a little better. Once they had the power of the shape, both their problems would end. “And good night. Or day.”

She closed the door to her cabin, stripped off her sopping clothes, and dropped into a dreamless sleep.

•   •   •

“The Key is just past that island.” Ynara pointed. Wind whipped at her long hair, trailing it behind her and making
her facial tattoos stand out. Danr had to force his eyes upward. Even though all mermaids’ breasts were bare, it felt strange and rude to stare at them, and he did his best not to. But it was difficult. Women were supposed to keep covered except when they were nursing a baby, and it was both strange and a little exciting to see something this exotic. He sent up a fervent prayer to Olar that Aisa never asked him about this, because he doubted she would like a truthful answer. He followed the line of Ynara’s finger.

Ahead was one of the Nine Isles, one isle for each of the Nine. Each was the top of what used to be a mountain, but the Sundering had put them at the bottom of an ocean. The island ahead, peppered with twisted trees and towering rocks, was Urko’s, and Greenstone was steering clear of it. None of the Nine Races lived in the Nine Isles—monsters twisted by the magic of the Sundering had eaten any brave enough to try.

Aisa and Talfi, newly wakened from their own sleep, came up to see. The golem, as always, followed close behind, its dead azure eyes taking in everything. Danr was really beginning to hate the thing. Talfi’s face was pinched with worry, despite the time they had gained from the merfolk.

The sea ahead of them was still calm. The merfolk had dispersed, though Ynara assured them that they were still nearby, watching. Everyone waited in silence. Even the sailors went about their work with hushed voices. A dark tension settled over the deck. Aisa stood uneasily next to Danr, the wind teasing her own hair. He wondered if she would let him touch it, touch her, then decided not. Instead he eyed the bottle of squid ink sticking out of Talfi’s pocket. Very soon they would have the power of the shape, and everything would be all right. They would hand it over to Harbormaster Willem and he would both free their
friends and end slavery. Danr would learn how to change into a human, and Aisa’s last reservations would fall. All their problems would be solved.

Would they?
murmured a treacherous inner voice. Harbormaster Willem might not be able to force the Obsidia to release Ranadar and Kalessa. Danr might not be able to become a human. Aisa might find she didn’t want him after all.

He told himself to shut up.

Greenstone heaved the ship around Urko’s Isle. Danr drew in a breath beneath his new heavy hat. Perhaps half a league ahead lay a great circle of water, a disk that stretched to the horizon. It was a pale gray instead of sea blue, and calm as ice. The little ocean waves came up to the edge and flattened like iron. The fluffy clouds coasting through the sky skirted the circle, unwilling or unable to cross the boundary. The very air grew thick and heavy, and a chill ran down Danr’s back. Several of the crew stopped their work to stare.

“The Key,” Ynara said unnecessarily. “Your captain knows it would be suicide to sail across it.”

“Why?” Aisa asked.

“When the Key opens in autumn at the time of the Sundering, it becomes neither water nor air nor land,” Ynara said. “Your ship would plunge straight to the bottom. Only those who walk between worlds can go there.”

Danr straightened his hat. That was another problem with being a half-blood—you were somehow expected to do things no one else could. “Those like me.”

“And me,” Talfi said in a small voice. “I walk between life and death every day.”

“That is the place where you first died,” Aisa said.

Talfi just nodded.

“Do you remember anything about it?” Danr asked.

“Just some shadows.” Talfi fingered the silver amulet around his neck, probably without realizing. “Screams. Pain. A blond woman. And fear like ice down my balls. I don’t want to go down there.”

“Then don’t,” Danr said. “You can stay up—”

Talfi held up a hand. “I need to. And I’m not letting you go alone, you big oafus maloafus.”

“Oafus maloafus?” Danr repeated. “What the Vik is that?”

“I must have studied with priests at some point.”

“And that’s what they call each other?”

“And I will be there as well,” Aisa said. “Someone has to make sure the two of you make no foolish mistakes.”

Ynara, looking shocked, laid a hand on Aisa’s arm. “My sister, you are not going to the Key.”

“What?” Aisa was clearly taken aback. “Of course I am! I have gone under the mountain, I have argued with giants, and I have stood before Death herself. This Key cannot possibly compare.”

Danr felt strangely stretched in two directions. The idea that Aisa wouldn’t go to the Key relieved him—he wouldn’t have to worry that she might get hurt or killed. The idea also filled him with indignation. Aisa’s deeds were greater than his own, and who was this mermaid to tell her where she could and couldn’t go? In the end, indignation won.

“She can go if she wants,” he said gruffly. “You may as well try to stop an elephant.”

“Probably not the best metaphor,” Talfi said out of the side of his mouth.

Ynara and Aisa didn’t seem to notice the exchange. “We do not question your bravery or your deeds. We
celebrate them like Rolk celebrates his monthly mating with Kalina. No, sister—the Key will not let you in. It is neither—”

“Earth nor air nor water,” Aisa said impatiently. “I understand that, and I am—”

“You do not understand,” Ynara interrupted. “In the Key, merfolk dry out. Stane drop to the center of the world. The Fae are shredded by bits of iron. And humans drown. The only ones who survive are those who walk between worlds.”

“I
have
walked between worlds.” Aisa planted her feet on the gently rocking deck. “I served in Grick’s house. I stood at Death’s door.”