Demon's Cradle (Devany Miller Book 3) (32 page)

“Tell me what you know about your mother,” Kroshtuka said.

“I didn’t know she was a Wydling. She’s passed on now. It was Dad who told me everything. And he did meet her in Flingway. Ravana wanted me and so Tytan hid my parents from her. They hid in time, then went to Earth to stay away from magic, from the politics, and to hide from Ravana. I don’t know if Mom’s name was different. I guess she changed it but I just don’t know.” What had the name been in Dad’s book? “Iwò. That’s what Dad called her in his book, anyway.”

“Hmm. Iwò means raven. There was a bird clan who lived near Flingway before it was destroyed. I’ll put the word around and see if anyone would like to come to Odd Silver to speak to you. They would be able to give you guidance in your family traditions.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t thought that far ahead, honestly. How weird would it to be to have a long-lost family with all manner of traditions and customs I knew nothing about. “That would be amazing, honestly.” My grandparents would no longer be alive, of course, but perhaps I’d have very distant cousins, if I were lucky. “Bird clan, huh? How does the magic determine what animal you’ll be?”

“It’s not one thing alone that makes the choice. We have to have a Dream and follow it out into the Wilds. We must be open and willing to say who we really are. That can be difficult at the best of times. What coward wants to say they are a mouse? What shy person wants to say they are a lion? Sometimes it’s an obvious choice. Sometimes the seeker must wait. And of course, anyone can choose not to seek their animal, though fighting against the magic is difficult and often leads people to hurt themselves. Many of us seek out others who are similar. Like the Wolf Clan you met a while ago.”

I nodded, remembering. Thought of the Meat Clan. “There are all different animals in Odd Silver.”

“Yes. We are a mixed group. They come to me when they have troubles shifting. I can hold them in their human forms until they are able to do it themselves.”

“You’re the anchor,” I said, finally understanding what that meant.

“Yes.”

The land, once hilly, now flattened out, going from scrub to a grey hardpan that had baked-in ripples, as if it had once been at the bottom of a great ocean, long dry. In the distance, brightly colored lights cavorted, leaping from a black chasm that looked terrible enough to be the exact place we shouldn’t go. “That’s where we’re headed, isn’t it?”

He squinted. “Can you see it?”

“Yes, can’t you?”

He shook his head, then studied me, concern evident in his features. “Perhaps it is not safe for you here. The magic shouldn’t be visible yet.”

I shrugged. “Things never behave the way they are supposed to around me. It’s a thing. Remember, I’m an Originator. I have access to a ton of magic. Maybe it gives me super magic vision or something.”

“It worries me. Let’s use the stones now, just in case. No more talking.” He put the Spider Stone into his mouth and a shimmery wave of power washed over him. It wasn’t a protection bubble. This had a dull matte finish and draped like a shroud over him. It darkened him, set him in shadows.

I set my stone in my mouth but I didn’t notice any color change for me. I didn’t know if it was because it wasn’t working or if I just couldn’t see my own shroud. I raised my eyebrows at Krosh, who said in my head, ‘Death surrounds us all.’

I hoped it wasn’t a prophetic statement.

TWENTY-ONE

The going was slower even though the land was flat. The wind had picked up, for one. It began shoving at us with increasingly forceful gusts. The gusts were bad, because we’d lean into them and they’d let up so suddenly, we’d stagger forward. Lean, stagger. Then the air thickened, so even when the wind wasn’t gusting, it was like walking through jelly.

And then things started screaming.

The rocks to my right did it first. Opened up cracks in their surfaces and belched dust as they yelled, moaned, and gibbered. Soon others took up the chorus until it filled up my head with caterwauling. A look to the others showed me they weren’t enjoying the impromptu scream-fest either. A couple had their fingers stuffed in their ears so I tried it too, and it helped bring the cacophony down to a dull roar.

As soon as the rocks figured out we weren’t going to be driven away by the noise, they changed their tactics. Or maybe it was more correct to say, ‘once the broken magic figured it out,’ because it was jangling louder than ever against my skin. If Leon had endured this madness, no wonder he’d come out insane. Of course, he’d gone in insane, so the broken magic had just turned his crazy dial up to thirteen.

The world lit up with color, screeching, blinding colors that made my eyes ache. They were bright enough to screw with my vision and I tripped more than once, glad for Kroshtuka’s strong grip on my hand. It didn’t help that rocks rolled in front of our feet like little suicide bombers, taking a hit for the team. I kicked one hard after I turned an ankle on it and sent it screaming. ‘Stupid little fucker.’

Kroshtuka laughed in my mind. I smiled.

The Spider Stone sat heavy on my tongue, but didn’t activate my gag reflex, I was glad to discover. It didn’t taste like dirt, either. There was a tang to it, not quite citrusy but close. Weird. Then my smile dropped off my face when I saw Bethy standing a few yards ahead of me, her mouth opened in a scream, her shirt torn.

I lurched forward only to have Kroshtuka pull me up short. I opened my mouth, intending to scream for her ...

‘No, Devany. It’s a trick of the broken magic. It’s pulling from our heads. A trick.’

Red hot fear flushed my face so that I could feel my heart thudding through my skin. It wasn’t a trick, I thought. Couldn’t be. It was too real. Then I saw a shimmer near her calves and my breath exploded from me in a hiss. I wanted to scream at it then reminded myself I had to keep the stone in place. ‘If this is protection, I’d hate to see what happens without it.’

He didn’t answer and I realized he’d let go of my hand to grab one of the younger men of our group, one whose name I didn’t know. The guy was lunging as I had, but he’d forgotten himself and started to scream, his mouth open in horror at whatever the broken magic was showing him. Kroshtuka and two more Wydlings had to hold tight to keep him from breaking away to chase his nightmare. I dropped to my knees, searching for his Spider Stone and found it almost gobbled up by a pitted black rock. I smashed it against another of its fellows until it dropped the stone. Without bothering to wipe off the grit, I popped it in the man’s mouth and slammed shut his jaw around it.

His eyes went wide and for a moment I freaked that he’d swallowed it. Then his jaw worked furiously, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His nostrils flared with each tormented breath, the rapidity making it look like he was trying to fly with his nose. Kroshtuka held him close, pressing his forehead against the young man’s until the kid broke down and cried.

This was where Ellison had been living? Had it been the Rider’s idea or his? I feared there wouldn’t be anything left in Ellison that was sane.

Kroshtuka left the crying man and went from person to person, standing silently before them, talking to them mentally. He didn’t leave until he had a firm nod from each of them. When he came to me, he asked, ‘How are you holding up?’

‘This scares me. But I have to get Ellison. If it’s too dangerous, if they can’t make it safely, I want them to turn back.’

He nodded. ‘I asked them all. They do not wish to leave. We will press on. I’ll use my power as Clan Anchor to keep them focused but it will take all my will.’

‘What if I fed you power?’ I took his hand and pushed some of my Skriven magic into him. His nostrils flared and he gave a sharp nod.

‘That will be helpful. If the broken magic catches it, stop immediately or we might both get hurt in the aftermath.’

‘Got it.’

So we continued on hand in hand, like a ragtag adult version of the group of characters skipping along the yellow brick road. Of course, we weren’t skipping, but hey, staggering along while kicking screaming rocks was close enough, right?

Another agonizing mile and then all the noise, the wind, the thick air, all of it stopped. The Basin loomed ahead, its cancerous walls fearsome. I didn’t want to get any closer, didn’t want to walk down inside it in search of a crazed Skriven, didn’t want to risk touching that god-awful black.

It wasn’t the color at all, but a reeking miasma that oozed from it: bile from a wyrm, the smoking ruins of a corrupt dragon’s breath. It wasn’t the color but the sound: the teeming of a thousand souls trapped in Hell, the rattle of a dying woman’s lungs. ‘What made this?’

‘The Witch King.’

The ashy warrior swam up in my memory. His ruined eyes. My promise. Good lord, I’d promised to help a man who’d broken magic. When would I ever learn to keep my mouth shut?

***

We walked halfway around the Basin before we found a pale white path crawling along the malignant walls, ever downward. It wasn’t easy to navigate while holding hands but we managed, going slow, keeping track of each other via our thoughts. I fed Kroshtuka magic slowly but steadily, my mind on high alert for any change in feel or flavor. I didn’t know what a corruption of my power would feel like, but I hoped it’d be something fairly easy to sense.

When we reached the bottom, the air was stale, the shadows more oppressive, ash falling like snow to coat everything. The Basin wasn’t that deep but it held secrets, and those secrets were dark ones. We kept on as the path wound through rocky protuberances, the landscape reminding me of Toadstool Park, a place Tom, the kids, and I had visited once on a road trip. The spaceship-shaped rocks there had been bleached pale tan by the sun. Here, everything was an ashy black, as if the cataclysmic event that had created the place had happened weeks ago, instead of thousands of years in the past.

It wasn’t until we rounded the next gigantic stone ship that I saw the houses.

They weren’t houses in the normal sense of the word. They were crippled, bent things, their proportions out of whack with the expected. It wasn’t like the Slip, not quite, but bore strong similarities. Most of them had roofs that long since caved in, stonework crumbling into stunted black grass clotted in ash. There were dead things here too, but someone had taken the skeletons and used them to decorate. A freakish parody of a scarecrow done up in bones and string rattled on its post, even though there wasn’t any wind. It stood by one of the few places with a roof. I wondered if this was where I would find Ellison.

‘Are you ready?’ I asked Krosh.

He nodded, then turned to the young man who’d had a freak out and communicated via hand gestures. They broke apart and flanked the cottage, pulling free what weapons they’d brought with them. When they were in position, Krosh nodded at me and I stepped up to the door. Should I knock? I was afraid I tried to kick it in, the door wouldn’t budge and I’d break my foot.

Not with my strength. With my strength you will break it to pieces.

Right. I’d forgotten. Why did I keep forgetting about the spider in my head?

Because I want you to forget sometimes.

I wished she were in front of me so I could glare at her. Glaring at the air wasn’t very satisfying.

If I were in front of you, you would be dead.

‘Really, Neutria? Really? After all this time in my head, after all we’ve done together, you’d eat me?’

She did not respond but her utter satisfaction made me realize that she’d never forgiven me for the fart joke. Touchy spider.

I steeled myself and then kicked, right by the door handle. With Neutria’s strength, I did indeed break it to pieces. I immediately stepped to one side and waited for the reaction, but didn’t get one. I edged to the doorway and peered into the gloom. A fire burned sourly in a small fireplace, greasy smoke curling from cracks in the chimney. That couldn’t be healthy, I thought. In the corner was a man in ratty clothes, hunched over a table. He was making a doll.

I needed to talk to him but wasn’t sure how. I asked Krosh, ‘I once did a working with the witches. We were in a circle and it seemed to enhance the power of the working. You think we could try that?’

‘We can do this. Give us a moment.’

I did and the Wydlings filed in. The man at the table never looked up, but his movements became more frenetic, as if he knew something was going to happen. As soon as our group had formed a circle, I fed Krosh more power. It leapt from Wydling to Wydling until a large, crackling bubble popped up overall of us. It wasn’t pliable like my normal bubbles were and I understood that it wouldn’t last long, this brittle thing.

I spat the stone into my palm and took a hesitant breath. “Margolis?”

He looked up at me in surprise. He pulled the fixings for a doll toward his chest and clutched them protectively. “What do you want?”

“I’m looking for someone. What are you doing here?”

His arms spasmed around his treasures but didn’t answer.

“There’s a Skriven running around here,” I said, ignoring the fact that I could see a puddle slowly growing at his feet. Had I terrified him into peeing himself? Or was it the mention of Ellison? “Do you know where he is?”