Fiery Edge of Steel (A NOON ONYX NOVEL) Read online

  Cnawlece lurched forward from the position we’d been holding and started drifting toward the bend again.

  “The engine just failed,” Rafe said. But he didn’t move. Just sat there, still cradling Fara’s head in his lap. “You should find Ari.” His tone was entirely too fatalistic for me. I remembered Fara’s battlefield blessing from dinner. How fitting it had turned out to be.

  Only one thing left to do, tell my friends—that’s you! All you meant and more . . .

  Well, I wasn’t ready to say good-bye just yet.

  “Lower the anchor!” I yelled, jumping up. What had the Field Guide said? Something about an anchor being the only way to escape Ebony’s End?

  I ran to Ari, who was covered in salt. He looked miserable. His eyes were more sunken than before and his skin was greasy and pale. He shook and was so out of breath, he could barely speak. I should have been doing more to help him.

  “The engine just slipped and we’re drifting toward the hole again,” I told him. “I’m going to drop the anchor.”

  He nodded and followed me over to it. After a moment or two of struggling, we finally unhooked it. It fell into the water with a great big splash and I heard the gratifying sound of the chain clanking as the anchor dropped lower and lower into the water. A moment later, the clanking stopped. There was no more chain. The anchor had been lowered, but we were still drifting . . .

  The Field Guide had been wrong.

  Luck must want us to die, I thought. There could be no other explanation. The water here was too deep to anchor in and now, suddenly, after hitting rock after rock, we seemed to have passed all the snags.

  “Time to abandon ship,” I said to Ari. “At least in the dinghy we can row.”

  It was madness. Pure folly. Abandoning Cnawlece meant a slow death instead of a fast one. If we didn’t die at the hands of the wraiths tonight, we would die at the hands of other rogares later. It had taken us nearly three weeks to get to this point by boat. I didn’t even want to contemplate how long walking back would take. And, honestly, how would we even get there? We had no land maps; we were abandoning most of the food (even the food we’d brought for the Shallows settlers, which made my heart break). We had to leave the weapons chest. There was no room in the dinghy for that. All our books, our clothes . . . Everything, left behind. That’s what abandoning ship means.

  In the end, each of us grabbed what we could. I told Burr to get some food. I managed to pocket Alba’s black onion. After a quick trip back to his cabin to retrieve Luck knew what, Rafe carried Fara off the ship. She brought her Book and Virtus. Russ busted open the weapons chest and pulled out five daggers and a sword. The alembic full of waerwater was still fastened around my neck. I guess Ari had been right; it was the safest place for it.

  Ari and I went below to retrieve Delgato. While we were down there, I told Ari to grab whatever else he thought he needed. He looked at me long and hard and I knew what he was thinking. I was the only thing he needed. Despite everything, I smiled at him. I wasn’t ready to say good-bye. Didn’t want to say good-bye. But I did want him to know I felt the same way he did.

  We carried Delgato upstairs together and lowered him into the dinghy. The wraiths had spotted us getting into the dinghy but seemed to be waiting to attack until we pushed off.

  “Will you be able to cast Impenetrable over the dinghy once we’re clear of Cnawlece?” I asked Rafe. He gave a curt nod, his face tight. I had to hand it to him. Tense as he was, his potentia seemed limitless.

  Russ was just about to shove off when I noticed Burr was missing.

  “Wait!” I cried. “Where’s Burr?” I wished I’d never asked him to go back for food. It wasn’t as if we could take enough anyway. Sooner or later, if we lived (which was starting to look doubtful anyway) we’d have to learn to live off the rush lands if we were going to make it back home. But then, thankfully, Burr appeared a second later, holding several sacks and packages. He threw the larger ones directly into the dinghy and then he tossed a small tin into my lap. My mother’s dried herbs. The ones we used to make tea.

  That Burr had risked his life to retrieve something so small, something so insignificant . . . was both touching and confusing to me. But I supposed, to Burr, the herbs weren’t insignificant.

  It’s what I got. It’s who I am.

  Burr had gone back inside for what was important to him and he’d gathered the things that brought other people comfort.

  I made room for him in the dinghy, nervously eyeing the wraiths in the water, but they didn’t move any closer. In fact, they seemed to move farther away. I don’t know if they were afraid of getting caught in the current or something else, but they actually seemed to retreat as Burr made his way down the ladder toward the waiting dinghy. I gripped the handle of my paddle, ready to row with every ounce of willpower I had left.

  But then something happened that stripped it all away.

  The bow of Cnawlece hit the edge of the whirlpool, causing the boat to turn suddenly away from us. At the same time, Russ started to push us clear. Even so, Burr would have had enough time. But just as he was stepping from the ladder to the dinghy, a massive black river serpent rose up out of the water and grabbed Burr by the leg. He screamed—a horrible, heart-piercing shriek—and managed to cling to the ladder for a split second before being pulled down into the water. A second later I felt a waning magic blur and then something heavy dropped in my lap. I picked it up, stupefied with shock. It was Burr’s filleting knife. The only thing that was left of him.

  I will never forget that moment. Not because I killed something. But because I didn’t.

  Burr popped up out of the water twenty yards from us, and then thirty, and then sixty. Each time his screams grew quieter as he lost more breath, but somehow I knew the black river serpent (which had to be another hellcnight impersonating the long-dead Ebony) wasn’t going to kill him. Not just yet. It would eat him alive. But instead of killing Burr to prevent that, I wept. I didn’t want to roast Burr into oblivion like I’d roasted the wraiths. I was sick enough over them. But then Ari put an end to Burr’s suffering. The next time he resurfaced, Ari threw a fiery arrow straight through Burr’s heart. Instead of feeling relief, I retched over the side of the dinghy into the water.

  Aut amat aut odit mulier. A woman either loves or hates. That’s what Sarah Meginnis, our Evil Deeds professor, was always telling us about domestic clients. Well, in that moment I hated everything. In my all-consuming rage I did something I’d never done before. I blasted the rush lands and all of the wraiths within it with fury, fire, and darkness. I poured all of my hatred into that blast. I thought I’d likely never be able to look at my own reflection again. The blackening of my soul (if I had one) was surely nothing compared to the fiery blackening I rained down over our enemies.

  But I needn’t have worried. Not only had my mirror gone down with our ship, the wraiths had left as well. We sat, silhouetted against a wall of flaming rush land, stunned and unmoving in our tiny rowboat—the only life left on the Secernere.

  Despite the insanity of it, we started rowing toward the fire. Not that any of us were capable of rational thought, but I guess we thought our chances were better against the flames and the demons we knew than a watery death and the demons we didn’t. But it didn’t matter. Nothing did. After all our struggles, spells, defensive maneuvers, attempted rescues, and other efforts, we were all going to die anyway. Because we couldn’t row against this current. Further strength and endurance spells failed. Our oars broke. Ari and Rafe finally collapsed, sweating and shaking. We reached the event horizon for Ebony’s End.

  We were going in. We were going under.

  We were going to drown.

  II

  Neither should a ship rely on one small anchor, nor should life rest on a single hope.

  —EPICTETUS

  Chapter 18

  I felt heavy, and very small. The whooshing sound in my ears made it seem like the Archangel was giving the eulogy underwate
r, but I knew it was just the wind. It wasn’t stuffiness. I hadn’t cried. I never cried. Only babies cried.

  I looked out across the wide, gray river toward the big city.

  Someday, I thought, I’m gonna leave here and go there and never look back. And I won’t care . . . ever again!

  “Raphael,” my mother said, her voice barely above a whisper, but somehow louder than the wind. The Archangel paused, waiting for my attention. My mother pointed to the ground beside her. I moved closer and the Archangel continued.

  Then thou the mother of so sweet a child,

  her false imagined loss cease to lament,

  and wisely learn to curb they sorrows wild.

  Think what a present thou to Him has sent.

  The Archangel looked straight at me, but everyone else looked toward the river. How could they not? That was where I’d sent him, just like the Archangel had just said. Above us, the trees swayed with the wind, dropping their leaves. But leaves didn’t sink.

  I watched one fall through the air as the Archangel spoke his hushed words. It swirled and curled, twisting and spinning. Even though it fell, it floated. It didn’t sink like a rock, straight to the bottom.

  I watched another. This one from the very tip of a black branch that had no other leaves. The wind plucked at this last leaf and, with one flick of its pointy end, the branch let go. The leaf was pushed out onto the wind. It whirled and swished. A flight I couldn’t take.

  The Archangel finished just as the wind blew one of the leaves into my cheek. It pressed against my skin, cold and wet. I peeled it off.

  If it wasn’t dead yet, it would be soon.

  Everyone started walking back to the house. It would take a while. The cemetery was down by the river and the house was high up on the hill. As they passed us, I could hear them.

  “. . . accident . . .”

  “. . . he tripped . . .”

  “. . . baby fell . . . drowned . . .”

  I ignored them and kept walking. At the top of the hill, I looked back. The long wooden pier jutted out into the Lethe, its weathered boards as warped and twisted as the claws of a crow. I stumbled in the grass, remembering . . .

  * * *

  Right when I’d felt the boat dropping away from beneath me, I’d felt a rip in the fabric of my mind, like someone plucking hair from my scalp—but from inside my head, not on top of it. I experienced the most profound sense that something had been taken from me, something substantial and weighty, something meaningful and defining. And that’s when the memory of Rafe’s brother’s funeral had come to me, slipping into the place that had been previously occupied by the now-unremembered memory.

  When my true sight returned, we were still spinning in the dinghy, caught in Ebony’s whirlpool. But now I knew: these were the last moments of my life. I don’t know why I’d suddenly seen Rafe’s memory of his brother’s funeral, but nothing seemed more fitting. It seemed natural that my last thoughts would be of a funeral, even if it was someone else’s.

  But Fara must have seen a different memory. Because instead of quiet acceptance, whatever she’d seen galvanized her. Her potentia was restored; her glamour was back. She looked at me, grinning.

  “Noon, I know what will save us!” she cried. “You showed me.” And then with what appeared to be almost superhuman strength she reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew her Book. She flung it into the water, shouting:

  Nil desperandum; crede Joshua!

  If I had to write an ending for Fara, it would have been exactly that one. Her shouting: “Don’t despair; trust in Joshua!” Except she didn’t die. None of us did. We passed through unharmed, except for those sore spots in our memory—the gaps that now held the stolen moments from someone else’s memory.

  * * *

  When we finally arrived on the other side it was morning. The reedy rush lands on either side of the water were bathed in the pink glow of sunrise. Our clothes and hair were sopping wet and there was standing water in the bottom of the dinghy, but we were on the surface of the river, not beneath it. Behind us, the river gurgled contentedly, satisfied that it had delivered us—from what fate or for what future, we didn’t know. These were the sorts of experiences that, while uncommon, were not completely unheard of in Halja. Haljan magic resided mostly in people, but every now and then we’d discover magic in a place or thing: the Angels’ ensorcelled apple wines, Alba’s black onions, Lucifer’s Tomb . . . and now Ebony’s Elbow.

  What exactly had just happened to us? Had Fara’s Book really saved us? And, most importantly . . .

  Where in Halja were we now?

  I surveyed our dinghy and its occupants. Delgato’s still form was sprawled in the muck on the bottom of the dinghy. Ari’s gaze swept briefly over me before he turned toward the surrounding countryside. Fara kept a tight hold on Virtus, who looked absolutely miserable. I remembered how much cats hated the water. Virtus’ ears were back and he looked about half his usual size. His fur clung wetly to him as a low growl burbled up from his throat, an odd accompaniment to the river’s gurgling behind us.

  I glanced back at the bubbling spot. I guess that’s where we’d come from. It seemed impossible to believe. But before I could ask Fara what she’d meant when she’d shouted that I’d showed her how to save us, Rafe leapt out of the dinghy and into the water. Virtus’ low growling and the river’s quiet gurgling were momentarily eclipsed by the sound of splashing. A moment later, Russ joined him.

  “Where are you two going?” I cried. My gut instinct was that everyone should just sit tight. But then I laughed at myself. Sit tight for what? For someone to come along and rescue us? I snorted at my own stupidity.

  “We need to drain the water in the bottom of the boat,” Rafe said, “make repairs, and build some new oars.”

  I nodded. I hadn’t realized it, until just then, but passing through the Elbow had somehow made my magic feel expanded, frozen, and constricted all at the same time. Like I was an ice cube with a piece of string wrapped around it . . . and inside of it. I forced myself to relax. My signature thawed just as Rafe and Russ beached the dinghy on the river’s edge.

  Russ was holding up remarkably well for a young man with no magic who’d been nearly drowned and then mysteriously transported to an unfamiliar place. But then again, he was the one with all the river experience. Maybe something similar had happened to him before.

  I let my signature melt into the surrounding land so I could feel, magically, what might be in store for us, but thankfully, there were no demons here. The only signature I sensed was Ari’s. I still couldn’t feel Delgato’s, although he was still alive at least.

  Ari jumped out of the boat and offered me a hand. I eyed the tall grasses warily. Just because there were no demons here didn’t mean there weren’t other things that might still kill us. The rush lands were full of crocodiles (the rogares’ main food source), venomous snakes, and poisonous frogs, just to name a few of the dangerous, unseen things creeping around out there. But I’d been the one who’d been pushing everyone to take every possible survival option prior to entering the Elbow, so I could hardly give up now that we’d actually made it through.

  I accepted Ari’s hand and hopped out of the boat. Rafe and Russ had already disappeared into the rush lands, presumably to find materials for new oars.

  “What about Delgato?” I asked.

  “He’ll be safest in the boat until we find somewhere to camp for the night,” Ari said. “Fara, you and Virtus can stay with Delgato.” She nodded. She either didn’t care that she’d be left alone, or she thought a comatose ex-captain and waterlogged tiger were company enough. That’s when I noticed what else was missing from the boat—the food and weapons. I nearly cried out in frustration. What else could we possibly lose? First our clothes, books, maps, case file, and letters of introduction, then Cnawlece, which had been both shelter and transportation, the food we’d brought for the people of the Shallows, then Burr, the most selfless member of the crew. As if that wer
en’t enough, it seemed that Luck wanted to strip us of everything. Fara’d given her Book of Joshua, and now the last of our food and weapons were gone. I raised my hand to my chest to feel for the alembic. It was still hanging on its chain, but the catch had come undone. It was empty. The waerwater was gone. I yanked hard on the alembic’s chain, pulling it free. I held it up to show Ari. He just shook his head.

  Was everything gone?

  Of course not. We still had our lives and our magic. I patted my jacket pocket, feeling a tiny bulge and two larger, sharper-shaped ones. The tin full of tea herbs Burr had risked his life going back for had made it, as had his filleting knife and Alba’s black onion. I was consumed with a nearly overpowering urge to ask it, “How will we get back home?” but I figured the onion wasn’t big enough to hold the answer. I sighed.

  Aut viam inveniam aut faciam. I would either find a way or I would make one.

  * * *

  By late afternoon, much had been accomplished. We’d cleared a small camp area near the river’s sandy edge; we’d moved Delgato out of the dinghy, bailed out the water and patched its holes; we’d made new oars out of wood and reeds, collected firewood, and, with Virtus’ help, managed to capture a few nonpoisonous marsh creatures, among them a half dozen geese and two swans. Our hair and clothes were now dry (it was the end of Ghrun; the day’s heat, for once, had been welcome) and whatever storm had blown through last night was entirely gone. Even the demons were keeping their distance. I hadn’t felt a single unfamiliar signature since we’d passed through Ebony’s Elbow. Still, the last thing I felt was safe or comfortable. Especially since there was not just one, but two hellcnights who had now “adjusted” to my signature. I didn’t think, based on what Delgato had told us during our first training session with him, that I’d be able to sense either one of them if they decided to attack us again.