“Fourth level ahead,” Naples breathed. “I need a rest. Short.”
Xaz nodded silently, but didn’t dare speak aloud. The euphoria that had filled her when she had first cast the magic had faded. Keeping her spell active was like holding sand in her cupped hands. It took all her concentration to keep the grains from spilling between her fingers, and the hands that held that sand had started to ache and tremble with the effort.
“It’s hard to judge time here,” Cadmia said, “but it feels like it’s been hours, and we have another level to go. Should we try to get some sleep while we’re on a relatively flat stretch?”
“No,” Naples said. Xaz thought she had shaken her head, but her physical body felt far away and not entirely in her control. “Can’t sleep. And do this,” Naples managed to add, his voice a ragged gasp.
He stumbled, as if speaking had taken too much of his energy. Hansa caught him, and helped him steady himself until he seemed solidly on his feet again.
“Are you going to make it?” Hansa spoke quietly to Naples, but the words carried in the strange, dead air that remained inside their two protective bubbles of magic.
“Sure hope so,” Naples answered.
“I . . . can I help?” Hansa asked, haltingly.
Xaz expected Umber to object on principle. When he didn’t, a shiver ran down her spine. If he was willing to share his bond, he was truly worried about the limits of the Abyssumancer’s power.
Naples pulled Hansa against himself and slid a hand under his shirt so he could wrap an arm around his waist, skin to skin.
The foxfire sphere brightened a little, a candle-flame briefly touched by purer air.
Onward.
They were just past the fourth-level court when Xaz felt something press against the boundary of her spell. She fought it instinctively, but a heartbeat later she recognized the power and invited it in, wrapping it carefully in her magic.
“Ksh.” The sharp exhalation was a reaction to the spark of recognition she felt from her Numini. With his power riding her, she couldn’t help feeling his wrath and revulsion when he regarded this Abyssi.
She didn’t have the mental energy to contemplate whether that was how a Numini would react to being asked to protect any Abyssal creature, or if it might be personal. All she could think clearly was, Please! We need him, and he cannot walk safely in the lower courts any more than we can.
The magic relaxed grudgingly, and veiled Alizarin’s distinctive blue glow in its own shimmering silver, which would make him—like the rest of them—invisible to the other beasts of this low plane who saw only with power.
“Alizarin,” Cadmia breathed, as she saw the blue Abyssi. “You’re all right.”
“Xaz’s spell works,” he reported. “I could not sense you until I was here. You have no scent or heartbeat from outside either.”
“That’s good to hear,” Umber said. “Can you help Naples at all?”
Alizarin moved closer to Naples, then hesitated, twitched his tail and shook his head. Once he was standing closer to the foxfire, Xaz could see how much worse for wear the Abyssi appeared. One of his legs sported a deep enough rent that he was visibly limping.
“I won’t be able to hunt until we return to the higher levels,” he said. “There is not much further to go.”
Not much further, he said, but it was slow going. Alizarin, who had previously seemed chaffed if asked to slow to their pace for more than a minute, walked sedately next to Cadmia. She reached up to touch him.
Hot blood, soft skin. Alizarin’s thoughts, which were more sense than words, reached Xaz through their bond at the same time she saw him jerk away from Cadmia. She could feel the depth of his hunger. Abyssi were not creatures of great self-control. It was taking all his concentration to ignore the instinct to hunt the ready, nearly helpless prey that so trustingly walked beside him.
She tried to block the dark awareness from her own mind, but not before she heard an answering thought from the Numini: She is bound to one of us, and swaddled in your power. She will not be lost if the Abyssi kills her.
The words had the ring of a well thought-out plan rather than a just-considered declaration. Xaz had assumed Cadmia was with them for her knowledge about the Abyss and as an additional bond between their group and the Numen, but feared she had stumbled across the woman’s real purpose: a sacrifice, which the Numini could justify to themselves because they had the ability to claim her after death no matter how she died.
There was nothing she could do about it, except hope she would be able to sense if Alizarin’s self-control started to fray, and intercede somehow.
Meanwhile, the way grew darker, and despite Naples’ spell, the air grew thick. Sounds were muffled. They had to shout in order to speak to each other, and doing so was so unnerving in this place that for most of the final descent, they did not say anything at all.
When Naples stumbled, Umber moved beside him. The movement simultaneously matter-of-fact and resentful, the Abyssi-spawn used his knife to slice across Naples’ palm, and then his own. The two twined their hands together, and Naples let out a sharp gasp.
Xaz tried to sense how strong—or weak—Naples’ spell had become, but as soon as she turned her attention from her own work she felt her connection to the Numen start to fray. She had to stop, close her eyes and reestablish it.
They kept walking.
Finally the stairs widened, until Naples’ faint globe of foxfire could not illuminate any visible walls or ceiling. Umber was all but carrying the Abyssumancer, who had entirely stopped responding to questions. Xaz wondered exactly how they expected to carry him up the stairs later, or whether at any moment the Abyss would come rushing in on their little fishbowl of existence.
CHAPTER 36
There were noises in the darkness. A deep scratching, hissing ring made goose bumps rise on Hansa’s skin.
Instead of shapes, he could see power. Unlike Alizarin’s soft, alluring blue-violet glow, these creatures let off ripples the slick red of fresh blood, and the dark rusty color of that same blood once dried. These dark lights made visible creatures the mind could not comprehend, not and stay sane.
Close your eyes, Umber ordered. Hansa did as commanded, and Umber passed him a strip of fabric to tie across his eyes, then turned to help Cadmia. Naples is holding back most of their power, or that glimpse would have been devastating.
Hansa tied the blindfold into place, and then felt the pressure of Naples’ arm around his waist guiding him forward while Umber led the Abyssumancer by the hand.
Blindfolding Hansa may have protected him from the ruinous sight of Abyssal power, but it made him more aware of his other senses: the heat on his skin, distant sounds of Abyssi at their gruesome play, the tangy odor of charring flesh, and an unnamable, spicy taste that settled on his tongue from the air.
They walked toward the gathered Abyssi. The noises of the court grew closer with each step, and their path started to weave irregularly as Alizarin sought the safest route. Safest. What an absurd word. Safest would mean turning around and leaving, if only that were possible.
A furred hand on his chest stopped him short, just before he felt movement in the air and heard something pass by. It never hesitated, and left the scent of brine and ash in its wake.
They really can’t see us, he thought.
Naples’ magic blocks the scent of our blood and the melody of our footsteps and beating hearts from them. Hansa bit his tongue to keep from shouting as Alizarin’s mental voice slipped into his head. Dioxazine’s blocks the sight of our power and the sound of our thoughts. With no true light, I would be blind to you here as well, if I had not been allowed inside the spell.
What would happen if they caught us? He didn’t mean to ask the question, but couldn’t help thinking it.
They would eat most of us, Alizarin answered. Eit
her he was mentally more focused than he tended to be verbally, or this was a subject that had finally sobered him, because his mental voice was low and wary. Dioxazine would be prey for Modigliani, lord of the Abyss, but he might share you or Cadmia with his favorites. I don’t know Naples’ patron, but there are not many Abyssi whose anger Modigliani would worry about, so he would probably also be taken.
Umber?
If he were alone, they might keep him for sport, Alizarin answered, but he wouldn’t survive your death.
Hansa, Umber said, his voice cutting like a cool breeze into their conversation, please stop asking stupid questions. Some of us don’t want to know the answers. His mental voice, Hansa thought, sounded very tired.
They were all tired. Hansa had tried, for the last half hour or so, to ignore the way the air had begun to heat as Naples’ strength faded. He tried not to wonder how much of the fatigue in his legs was from descending stairs for so long without rest, and how much of it was due to Naples steadily draining power from him.
How much power could one human have, after all? With Xaz’s magic hiding their magic, would Umber notice if Naples was taking too much? Hansa was pretty sure Naples wouldn’t notice at all.
“We’re almost there,” Alizarin said aloud, his voice a low grumble that just barely reached their ears. Even if the mancers’ magic was supposedly hiding the sounds of their passage, Alizarin clearly didn’t want to test the protection by speaking up. “There are stairs here, with some debris. Climb carefully.”
Hansa jumped at a low groan not far from his left ear, then realized it was a sound of protest from Cadmia. She had been quiet since the blindfolds went on, as wary as the rest of them of drawing attention.
“Not too far,” Alizarin added.
Will there be guards by the cell? Umber asked.
Unlikely. Abyssi do not make good guards, Alizarin assured them, with a touch of the old amusement in his tone. Even Modigliani cannot convince them to attend to a closed box for long, and Terre Verte doesn’t offer much amusement any more.
Hansa consciously worked to blank his thoughts so Alizarin wouldn’t answer the next question that logically crossed his mind: What normally amuses an Abyssi? He knew just enough not to want Alizarin to say more.
Instead, he focused all his attention on scrambling up a pile of stone and . . . other clutter. He tried to tell himself it was shells, like those littering the first level’s dry sea, but when he stumbled and his groping hand closed on the curve of what could only be a skull he jerked back so abruptly he nearly brought himself, Naples, and Umber all down.
“We’re here,” Alizarin announced at last.
“Keep your eyes forward,” Umber cautioned as he removed the blindfold.
Hansa looked around, blinking at the faint, white light cast by Dioxazine. He and Naples were standing in the open doorway to a small, not-quite-square room, short enough that Hansa could have reached up and touched the ceiling—if he had wanted to, which he really didn’t, since it seemed to be writhing.
Where Xaz stood near enough to illuminate one wall in detail, Hansa could make out sharp, needle-thin spines that rippled across the surface of the wall, pulsing, retracting and then growing again, as if they were all inside a giant, inverted sea-urchin. Umber had gone ahead into the room, though he stayed far from the walls. Cadmia lingered hesitantly behind Alizarin, who had crossed the room to a box against the far wall.
About two feet high, two feet deep, and a little longer than a man, it would have been difficult to call it anything but a coffin. The exterior sparkled, reflecting Xaz’s glow from thousands of tiny crystals. What could possibly be inside but the man they had come to rescue?
Careful, Naples gasped when Hansa tried to move into the room. The Abyssumancer’s eyes fluttered, half opening, and then closing again. Doorway . . . close. Can’t.
“What?”
Umber touched Naples’ face gently before saying aloud, “He opened a doorway from the stairwell to this room. Considering who’s imprisoned here, opening a doorway from the inside is probably impossible, so it would be best if we didn’t all cross the threshold and have this one close behind us.”
Yes, Naples said.
The show of life, at least, was promising.
While they were speaking, Alizarin had crossed to the coffin. He knelt in front of it and placed his hands on the sparkling surface.
“Will the other Abyssi know when we open it?” Cadmia asked.
Alizarin shook his head. “The box is designed to hold power captive. The room is, too, in case the box is ever opened.”
“It seems too easy,” Cadmia said.
Easy? Naples echoed.
“Speak for yourself, Cadmia,” Umber concurred.
Alizarin was still kneeling in front of the coffin, now frowning, his tail twitching.
“How do we open it?” Umber asked as time went by.
Alizarin growled in response.
Naples drew a breath, something Hansa hadn’t been convinced he had done in a while. “Umber, let me down. You and Hansa stay in the doorway.”
“You seem stronger,” Umber observed as he set the Abyssumancer on his feet.
Naples shook his head. “This room is doing some of my work from me. Xaz’s, too. It’s designed to be its own bubble, to keep in what’s in, and out what’s out.” He held up a hand and a new globe of foxfire appeared, this one deep crimson. It hung in the doorway between him and Hansa. “Come inside. That will hold for a while.”
He walked toward Alizarin and the coffin, his steps heavy with fatigue, but still more than he had done independently for hours. As the Abyssi had done, he knelt in front of the box and set a hand on it.
Unlike Alizarin, Naples drew in a sharp breath, his body sparkling with power for a moment. Xaz groaned, and Cadmia caught her arm to steady her.
Hansa and Umber had a chance to exchange one worried look before Xaz got her spell back under control.
“How do we open it?” Umber asked again as Naples examined the coffin.
“Power,” Naples answered vaguely. “It’s like anything in the Abyss. It wants sacrifice.”
“In my experience the last few days, that usually means blood,” Hansa said. “So one of us opens a vein. Again.”
“Or a little more than that,” Umber said ominously.
One hand still on the coffin, Naples turned, his gaze going from one person to the next in a way that made Hansa distinctly nervous, and made Alizarin start to growl again.
“Don’t look at me that way, Hansa,” Naples said when his attention turned that direction. “The only reason we’re all standing at the moment is that the denizens of this level of the Abyss have built their own little sphere of the human realm. Once we go back out that doorway, I’ll need you and Umber again.”
“You’re needed to hold back the Abyss.” Cadmia’s voice pierced the air clearly. “You need Hansa and Umber to help you do it. You need Dioxazine to keep you hidden.” The pitch of her voice steadily increased as she continued to speak.
“Correct,” Naples replied.
“How large a sacrifice are we talking about?” Umber asked.
Judging by Alizarin’s low growl, and the protective tail he kept wrapped around Cadmia’s waist, Hansa suspected the answer was more than a few drops.
“I am not killing someone in order to get into that box,” Hansa said, though even as he said it, he felt the squeeze of the boon trying to argue with him. The magic can threaten all it wants, he thought desperately. I won’t do it. I’ll let it kill me first.
Naples didn’t bother to argue with Hansa. He spoke to Alizarin instead. “I don’t know why you came with us, but I know you wouldn’t have done so unless you wanted this witch as much as I do. Are you going to protect her to the point of turning around now and admitting defeat?”
“I
will,” Hansa insisted, striding forward to try to get between Naples and Cadmia. That was his intention, anyway. When he tried, the muscles in his legs seemed to lock, the warning heat of the boon’s power becoming a buzzing, piercing burn.
“You can’t,” Naples spat. “Don’t pretend you can. If there’s a way, you’ll have to find it. And even if you had it in you to turn around and leave, you can’t leave without me, and I am not going to leave without him.”
“We’re talking about murder!” Hansa shouted, flinching at the way his voice rang off the cell’s walls.
“To be precise, it seems we’re talking about my murder,” Cadmia added, voice remarkably level. “And I think I’m going to have to decline.”
“No, we’re talking about survival,” Naples retorted. “Nothing personal, Cadmia, but I did not come this far to stop here, and you’re the one person in this group who is expendable. Why do you think the Numini sent you here? They must have known.”
“I doubt the Numini are in favor of human sacrifice,” Umber argued.
“No one’s expendable, since we won’t cooperate with you if you do this, and you need us, too,” Hansa reasoned.
Naples drew a deep breath, and walked back toward the doorway to try to reason with the man standing there. “Look . . .” He glanced to the foxfire in the doorway, which was starting to waver, then reached up and pressed his hand to the top of the opening. He winced as the sharp spines at the top cut open his palm, but didn’t pull back. As the blood dripped, it formed a lattice of strands as fine as a spider’s web. “Step inside,” he said, as Hansa nervously watched the growing web. “If we’re going to take the time to fight, I need to make this more solid.”
With all of them inside the cell, and a web of bloodred power keeping the doorway open, Naples stood in the middle of the room and looked at each of them in turn. “You were saying?”