Scimitar's Heir (34 page)

≈

Cynthia woke to agony and the familiar sensation of being underwater.

Pain speared through her like a bolt of lightning, and her scream came out in a torrent of bubbles. She blinked and reflexively cast the simple spell that allowed her to live under the sea without breathing. She blinked again and started, shocked to see Feldrin’s distressed face only inches from hers, bubbles dribbling from his mouth. At her breast, her baby stared up at her, eyes wide, lips fading from pink to blue.

Urgent memories snapped to mind—Eelback burning, Ghelfan’s blood, a girl and a blade—prompting her to the present. Quickly, she cast her spell twice more, once on Feldrin and again on their son. The baby, having spent most of his short life under the sea, settled down immediately, his skin flushing pink once again.

Feldrin had a harder time, instinctively fighting the unfamiliar sensation. He coughed a burst of bubbles, tried to breathe, his mouth gaping, his struggles more urgent. Cynthia remembered her first time with the spell and touched her hand gently to his face. It seemed to calm him, and he blinked at her, then gripped her hand tightly. She nodded and smiled, then grimaced at the pain.

Cynthia looked down and nearly fainted again at the sight of steel protruding from her. She shifted, and the blade grated between two ribs. She couldn’t tell if it had punctured a lung, but she tasted no blood in her mouth. The pain made her head swim, but the water breathing spell alleviated some of it by circumventing the need to draw breath. The water around them was tainted pink, and she saw a thin trail of crimson issuing from around the blade. She didn’t know how badly she was bleeding, but did know that if she passed out again before they reached an exit, Feldrin and her baby would drown.

Dear Odea, just let me live long enough to get them out of here
.

Ghelfan’s body floated nearby, and the pain of that loss washed over her heart in a wave of grief. She didn’t see Edan or the girl, and wondered if they had escaped, or if Edan had drowned just as he had feared. A peculiar light filled the room, and she gingerly turned her head. The Chamber of Life radiated a pearly glow. The crystal doors were closed, a glistening teardrop atop the dais, and she caught a flicker of motion within. Then she felt a wave of pressure on her senses, a wash of heat like she used to feel when Edan was using his fire magic.

Her gut tightened.
It can’t be
, she thought. Then the crystal chamber flared brighter, and the pressure intensified.

Dear Gods of Light,
she thought,
he must have hidden inside the chamber! We’ve got to get the hells out of here!
Quelling her growing sense of dread, she urged the sea to take them out of the chamber.

Feldrin yelped out a stream of bubbles as water surged around them, carrying them through the door and into the dark corridor. Cynthia didn’t need light to sense her surroundings, of course, but she could feel the tension in Feldrin’s grasp, though he cradled her and the baby carefully. As they came to the hatch to the upper level, Cynthia realized how Sam had followed them; the portal was blocked open with one of the crowbars. She urged the sea to push it open and the crowbar fell out. She held the portal open, brought them up and through, then let it slam closed behind them

Cynthia sensed the bodies of Janley and Rhaf drifting in the corridor, and sorrow heaped upon sorrow. She swept past them, forcing herself to concentrate through the pain. She clutched her child to her breast and thought about her life, Feldrin’s life, their son’s life. They would mourn the dead later, but only if she got them out alive. They came to another hatch, and this one was closed also. Exerting her will, she pulled the sea back from the portal and it sank, air rushing in as it swung down on its hinge. Slowly she moved the water out from under them, waiting until Feldrin had his balance. He bore her weight easily, and as the air touched their faces, the spell dispersed and they could speak.

“Where the hells were Rhaf and Janley?” Feldrin sputtered angrily.

“Dead,” Cynthia said. She took a breath and grimaced. “Sam must have killed them. Oh, Feldrin, I—”

The baby interrupted her with a cough, a sneeze and a cry that pierced her ears and her heart.

“Later, lass, later,” Feldrin murmured as he struggled up the stair. “We’ll have time later. Right now, we need to get the bloody hells out of this place. I don’t know what’s gonna happen when—”

As if in answer, a deep tremor shook the entire city. Tendrils of yellow-white light raced through the walls, floor and ceiling, leaving trails of crimson fire in their wake. The wave of light passed them, and power washed over Cynthia in a palpable wave of heat. A deep rumble sounded from below.

“Edan!” she said, fighting a rising panic. She clutched Feldrin’s arm with hysterical fervor. “Hurry, Feldrin! It’s Akrotia! Edan’s bringing it to life.”

“Bloody hells!” Feldrin rushed as best he could, but his gait was less than easy, and it was anything but a gentle ride. Every time the sword transfixing Cynthia’s torso was jostled, waves of agony shot through her chest. Every breath brought new pain, and blood trickled steadily down the blade to drip off the hilt, leaving a crimson trail in their wake. “Hang on, lass,” he said, struggling up another stair, his face contorting into a mask of strain.

Cynthia prayed that they both could endure until they could reach help.

≈

Mouse shot out of the tiny vent tube into the open sky, anguished tears streaming down his face. Cynthia and Feldrin and the baby and everything he loved were gone, trapped in this stupid floating city. He was alone, his mistress drowned, his world crumbling around him. They’d come here to save Cynthia’s baby, and instead had lost everything.

A streak of fire swept past him, close enough to singe, and it snapped his morbid reverie. Flicker swooped around in an arc and stopped before him, hovering, studying him with her bright yellow-orange eyes. She chirped something, but he had never been able to understand her. He looked into her coppery features and he saw his own anguish mirrored there. She pointed at the city below, and clutched her hands to her breast, and he understood; she was alone, her master gone, her heart broken.

Mouse clutched his own hands over his heart and nodded, tears streaking his face.

Flicker peered at him again, and held up a hand. He longed to take it, but he knew it would burn him. He backed away, his fear of her fire overwhelming his desire for companionship.

Flicker frowned and looked at her own hand, at the incandescent glow of her skin, and recognition dawned in her eyes. She scrunched her face in concentration, and her fire diminished, her hair dwindling to a bare candle flame, her skin dulling to a tawny golden-brown, her wings a bare smolder. She raised her hand again, and smiled.

He’d seen her like this before, when she had sat upon Edan’s shoulder before he became a pyromage. She hadn’t burned him then, so perhaps she wouldn’t burn him now. He held very still, and her hand neared his face. He felt its warmth, then her palm brushed his cheek. It was very warm, even hot, but not burning.

Then she leaned forward, very carefully, and kissed him.

He stared into the embers of her smoldering eyes—so close, so hot—and smiled at her. Maybe they weren’t so alone after all.

A distant roar like crashing surf drew their attention, and he gaped as a pillar of smoke and fire climbed into the sky above the harbor.

“Eep!” he cried, glancing back at her and pointing.

“Eek!” she agreed with a nod.

They parted and flew toward the harbor to investigate, though Mouse had a sinking suspicion that he knew what was burning.

≈

Cynthia felt the power growing, even as her own consciousness faded—Edan’s power, now Akrotia’s power, multiplied a thousand fold. She forced down weakness and nausea, unsure if they were due to the pain, blood loss, or the oppressive, sweltering pressure of fire magic building all around them. The gray stone began to glow dull red, the spider web of arcane patterns within intensifying through the spectrum from orange to yellow to white. A gust of blistering-hot wind tore through the corridor, ruffling their clothes and hair as Feldrin climbed the last stair.

“Almost there, lass,” he gasped between breaths, his chest drenched with sweat, his face streaming and flushed.

Cynthia would have said, “Good,” but she hadn’t the breath. The babe, at least, had calmed, though the jostling ride wreaked havoc with his digestion. He burped and spit up, then coughed, his sea-green eyes staring up at her as if pleading with her to stop the bouncing. She held him close and prayed to Odea,
Please, please, just let us get out of here alive
. She let her head slump onto Feldrin’s shoulder, closing her eyes against the tide of pain, exhaustion and nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. She felt as if she was slipping down a dark well, all sound and sensation fading…

A cooler light, daylight, glowed from behind her closed lids as they finally reached the exit, but it was the gasped oath and the jolt as Feldrin stumbled to a halt that brought her back from the edge of unconsciousness.

“Chula!” he called.

Pain lanced through her as the sword’s hilt bumped something, and she opened her eyes. Beyond a crowd of milling, bloodied sailors, an inferno raged. Three burning masts reached for the sky like spears of fire:
Peggy’s Dream
.

“Oh, Odea, please…” she muttered through sudden renewed tears; yet another pain, yet another loss. She closed her eyes and wept, and let darkness overtake her.

≈

Kelpie gripped Tailwalker’s hand and swam for her life. They were free, in open water, but she had had to use her invocations to stave off several patrolling schools of myxine. During their flight, the recognition of Eelback’s final sly betrayal came to her. He had fulfilled his promise; he had let them go free. It was an easy promise, when he knew the myxine would ensure that they would not escape alive. They would keep all of Eelback’s secrets.

Suddenly, Tailwalker jerked her to a stop and rounded on her, his fins flaring, gills pumping with fury. *Enough!* he signed. *We have fled far enough, Kelpie. We will wait here to see what unfolds.*

*But the myxine…*

His hard look brooked no argument.

*If the myxine come, we will flee, but I wish to see if your betrayal of the seamage has killed them all, or if some survive.* He glowered at her; the disgust on his face was another knife in her heart, but she expected no less.

*My betrayal of the seamage was for
you
, Tailwalker,* she signed, her fins clamped flat against her body in a submissive posture. She knew full well what her betrayal had caused, and she knew what her punishment would be if she ever reached their home. *Should I have let them kill you?*

*Yes, Kelpie,* he signed, his anger unabated. *Better my death than this. Seamage Flaxal will be taken by Akrotia, and the myxine will kill all of the landwalkers, including her son. Do you think Eelback would settle for less? I’m surprised he let
us
escape.*

Kelpie thought of the child, Cynthia’s baby, whom she had nurtured and tended. She thought of the myxine swarming up from under Akrotia to slaughter all of Cynthia’s loved ones, and her heart broke anew. *I’m sorry,* she signed. She didn’t know what else to tell him.

A deep thrumming impact reverberated through the water, faint at this distance, but still close enough to rattle their sensitive ears. They looked at one another, then at the surface.

*Come, Kelpie,* Tailwalker signed, *let us see what has happened.*

They surfaced and looked to Akrotia, blinking and shading their eyes against the harsh light of the sun. The floating city loomed perhaps five hundred tail flips away. Kelpie could barely make out the masts of the two ships within the nearest harbor behind the towering arch. From this distance, and so close to the surface, it was impossible to see any detail, but a pall of white mist rose from the water of the harbor. What it could be, she had no idea.

Then she felt a familiar pulsing vibration, the tail flips of an approaching mer. Whoever it was, they were swimming fast. She ducked back under the surface just as a slim shape shot out of the dappled sunlight and shadow. She barely had time to thrum her chest in greeting before the mer streaked past them.

She looked at Tailwalker, and signed, *Was that—* but the nimble shape had turned a tight circle and darted back to them before she could finish.

*Chaser!* Tailwalker signed as his friend hove into view. The scout’s gills were pumping with exertion and his color was flushed pale in distress.

*Tailwalker!* Chaser’s eyes were wide, and widened even more when he saw Kelpie, before returning to his friend. *You escaped! How?*

*We were set free,* Tailwalker explained, nodding to Kelpie. *She bargained for our lives, but Eelback intended to kill us anyway. We saw a school of myxine.*

*Yes, they overwhelmed our school and they attack the landwalker ships as we sign,* the scout confirmed. He looked back to Kelpie and his hand drifted to where a dagger would rest if he were armed, though he was not. None of them bore a weapon of any kind. *You trust her?*

*No,* Tailwalker signed, and his answer stabbed her deeper than any dagger could have. *No, I do not trust her, Chaser, but she did bargain for my life, and she saved us from the myxine.*

*And that bargain is fulfilled,* Kelpie signed. *You are alive. Now go back to your father, and tell him I am sorry for betraying the school. I never meant to harm anyone, Tailwalker, least of all you or Seamage Flaxal.*

She turned to go, but Tailwalker grabbed her wrist before she could flip her tail. *Where are you going, Kelpie? You must return to explain yourself to the trident holder.*

*Perhaps I will,* she signed, calling on a tiny shred of Odea’s grace to force his hand away from her wrist. He stared at her, rubbing his hand. *Perhaps I will see you again, Tailwalker, but there is something I need to do first.*

Kelpie flipped her tail and swam as fast as she could back toward Akrotia, back toward the harbor where the myxine were devouring Cynthia Flaxal’s friends.