Blood Storm: The Books of Blood and Iron (34 page)

“We love you,” Ranadar pleaded. “We need you. Stay with us.”

“You’re my best friend,” Talfi cried. “Don’t die now.”

“Hamzu,” Aisa whispered.

A dot of light appeared in the center of Danr’s ruined chest. Aisa gasped. The light, golden as the morning sun, grew and spread over Danr’s chest. It enveloped his body. Aisa wavered, drained of energy, and she felt a change begin under her hands. She held her breath, and Danr’s awful wounds pulled together. His bones rearranged themselves with cracks and pops. His muscles knit themselves whole. His body, arms, and legs shortened, and his body hair fell away. In a few breaths, Danr lay on the wet cobblestones, human again and utterly whole. His body shuddered once and his eyes popped open.

“Hamzu!” Tears of utter joy stained Aisa’s cheeks. She snatched him into her arms and held him close, smelling his skin, feeling his hair. He was alive! The awful weight of guilt and grief vanished, feeling, the power of her sheer delight. Oh, he was alive!

Talfi and Ranadar and even Kalessa joined in the embrace before the animals could scramble aside, and for several moments, they made an awkward, laughing pile of people, fur, and feathers. Talfi shouted incoherently in everyone’s ears, and Kalessa actually smiled. At last they
disentangled. Exhaustion swept Aisa, and the ground swayed dizzily.

“I need sleep,” she said. “Do you think Mrs. Farley will still take us in after all this?”

Danr, who looked as exhausted as Aisa felt, thrust out his human arms and made a face. “Death said that in the end, only I can decide to change,” he sighed. “Looks like she was right.”

“I love you, no matter what shape you take,” Aisa said.

“I know,” Danr said softly.

“What do you remember?” Talfi asked, probably because it was what everyone asked him whenever he came back from the dead.

“Death opened her door for me,” Danr said, and put his arm around Aisa. “And I was ready to walk through it. But you, all of you, pulled me back.” Then he knelt down and touched the head of the wolfhound while the ravens croaked from the cobbles. “Thank you.”

The wolfhound whuffed once and trotted away. The ravens hopped into the sky and vanished.

“Can they change back?” Ranadar asked, looking after them.

“The better question is, will they?” Aisa said.

“An even better question,” Talfi put in, “is why two people who have never shared a bed spend so much time naked.”

I
t didn’t end there, of course. Sections of the city lay in ruins and the docks were badly damaged, and countless people lay trapped under rubble. Prince Karsten rose to the occasion. He proved tireless, rushing about the city, mobilizing the army and his private guard into cleanup and rescue. The ninety-nine warrior priests, released from their glamour by the harbormaster’s death, ordered all priests and acolytes to help as penance.

And when the sun set, the trolls came. They tromped up from the new sewer tunnels and out of stone cellars where they had been quietly living. The dwarfs burrowed out of the ruined temple of Bosha to join them, and they set about digging. The humans who had been desperately laboring for hours accepted the help gratefully. For the first time in a thousand years, Stane and Kin worked side by side.

Aisa and Danr and the others tried to help at first, but fatigue dragged them down.

“I will want to hear everything that happened later,” Prince Karsten told an exhausted Danr. “For now, go home before you make a mistake and hurt someone.”

Mrs. Farley’s rooming house was untouched by the
golem’s rampage. They crept in by the back door and slipped upstairs. Without even thinking, Danr went into Aisa’s room with her. Kalessa merely nodded and took Danr’s room. They dropped into bed and into dreamless sleep.

•   •   •

Aisa woke slowly and painlessly, like a sparrow gliding in to land. The blankets made a warm cocoon and the bed was deliciously soft and comfortable. Warm sunlight spilled across the green plants on the balcony and into the room. It was so nice to lie there, drowsy and content.

The bedclothes rustled. Danr, still human, rolled over and put his arms around her with a little sigh. Her heart felt so powerfully content, so delighted and happy, she couldn’t imagine life any other way. How had she lived before this moment? Hamzu was still asleep. She examined his face, his human face. Dark eyebrows framed large eyes. His raven hair was tousled with sleep. Stubble dusted his cheeks. His chest and stomach, the muscles flat and well defined, rose and fell with his breathing. She could watch him, in either shape, for hours, and need no other meat or drink.

They had fallen into her bed last night and dropped into instant sleep, too tired to do more than share a good night kiss. But this morning . . . this morning, Aisa decided, it was time for more than a kiss. And was there any better way to wake a man?

But first, she needed to know something. Steeling herself, she deliberately thought of the Battle of the Twist. She thought of Danr wielding the Iron Axe. She thought of fire and blood and slaughter. She deliberately courted the visions, called them to her.

Nothing happened. The little room remained unchanged. Danr slumbered on next to her. The terrible visions were gone.

Her burden lifted, and she felt almost giddy, as light as a soap bubble. The relief was almost as great as the relief she had felt when Danr changed his shape last night and came back to her. She leaned closer, and felt his warm breath on her cheek. He stirred then and opened his eyes. They were as warm and brown as she remembered.

“Good morning,” she said.

“It is, isn’t it?” he replied with a long, slow smile, and he gathered her into his arms. “The first one of many.”

She sighed and pressed against him, feeling his heartbeat. And she felt something else press against her as well. Danr flushed a little, but didn’t let her go.

“I like waking up this way,” she whispered into his neck. Her hand slid downward. “And I think now is the time to explore so many new—”

His body stiffened. He jerked away from her and sat up. For a confused moment, she thought she had hurt him or done something wrong. Then she noticed it, too—a difference in the air, a change in the light, a soft, inexplicable sound. She sat up with him.

The plants on the balcony were spilling into the room. Before their eyes, they expanded and grew, crawling over walls, across the floor, and even into the tiny fireplace. Flowers bloomed, and a riot of color spilled over the vines and branches. In seconds, the room became a humid green jungle.

“What—?” Danr gasped. “How is this—?”

But Aisa put a calming hand on his arm. “It is fine, my Hamzu. We are having visitors.”

Even as she spoke, a great bud grew at the end of one vine. It expanded to the size of a horse. A bloodred iris split open, and from the blossom stepped two women, one in a pale green cloak with a bag of seeds, and one in a green-brown cloak with a hoe. They looked sad.

“Nu and Tan,” Danr breathed.

“But not Pendra,” Aisa finished. Her heart beat quickly. What did this mean? Were they already here to bring her away?

“You wielded the sickle without flinching,” said Nu.

“You made the sacrifice,” said Tan.

There was a pause, and then both Gardeners seemed to realize there would be no third response. Tan pressed her lips together and Nu wiped at her eye with the corner of her cloak.

“What is this about?” Danr asked, then added hastily, “Great Ones.”

“I never had a chance to tell you,” Aisa said.

“He should have known from the beginning,” said Nu.

“From the start,” agreed Tan, and there was another pause.

“Should have known what?” Danr was clutching the blankets around his naked waist. “I don’t understand, Great Ones.”

“You did not bring Aisa to your last meeting with Death, so we had to make accommodations,” said Nu.

“Changes,” said Tan.

“To what?” asked Danr before they could pause.

“It would be easier to share with you directly,” said Nu. She reached into her bag and blew a handful of pollen into Danr’s face. He coughed, and then Aisa saw the knowledge come across his face.

“So you chose Aisa to replace one of you,” he said slowly. “Has it . . . is it time for her to go? Is that why Pendra isn’t here?”

Aisa realized she was clutching the blankets so hard her knuckles hurt. She had just found her happiness with Danr. How could she leave him now? Maybe they could continue their love anyway. But wouldn’t she become . . . immortal? Could an immortal Gardener love a mortal? There was so much she didn’t know.

“It has become complicated,” said Nu.

“Difficult,” said Tan.

“In what way?” Aisa asked tensely.

“You wielded the sickle without flinching,” Nu repeated. “You showed that you could do what needed to be done.”

“You have walked among the Stane, the Fae, and the Kin,” said Tan. “You have been powerful and powerless. You know slavery and freedom. You have seen strength and weakness. We settled on you as our new sister and set the others aside.”

Aisa put a hand to her mouth. “I’m not ready! I’m not—”

“It cannot happen now,” said Nu.

“Not yet,” said Tan.

Danr looked at the Gardeners, then at Aisa. “What do you mean? Why not?”

“Pendra,” said Nu and Tan together, “has disappeared.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Steven Harper Piziks
was born with a name no one can reliably pronounce, so he usually writes under the pen name Steven Harper. He sold a short story on his first try way back in 1990. Since then, he’s written twenty-odd novels, including the Clockwork Empire steampunk series.

When not writing, Steven teaches English in southeast Michigan. He also plays the folk harp, wrestles with his kids, and embarrasses his youngest son in public.

CONNECT ONLINE

stevenpiziks.com

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