I squeezed her hand where our rings met, but my fingers found no purchase. She was now safely returned to the material world.
And I? I fell backward, drifting in the arctic air, utterly drained. I caught a glimpse of my body as I tumbled, a mere skeleton, translucent and fading in the starlight.
I’d grown too weak to hold onto this world any longer. It saddened me to know that I would never learn how Infidel’s story played out, whether she’d survive to give birth to our daughter, whether she’d live a full life long after my band of hair had fallen to dust and my memory was hard to summon.
I closed my eyes, prepared to vanish.
Then, though Slor Tonn had flown on half a mile as I’d drifted, I heard a single whispered word on the wind: “Stagger?”
It was Sorrow’s voice, sounding in the bean-case ear.
I opened my eyes. A single silver filament, finer than human hair, snaked through the night sky toward me. It slithered between my jaws and hooked me like a fish, reeling me back into the golden cage.
“Stagger, can you hear me?” asked Sorrow. “What’s happening? Is everything okay?”
I didn’t feel strong enough to move my arms, but with effort I found my paper tongue. It was frozen solid, but somehow I coaxed from it a sickly, crinkling rattle no one could ever mistake for a human voice: “Save Infidel.”
Perhaps Sorrow’s attunement with the magic of my wooden body allowed her to understand me, since she answered, “If she needs saving, I take it you’re both still alive?”
I felt like this deserved a sarcastic response, but I couldn’t find the energy.
“You know what I mean,” Sorrow amended a second later, perhaps chastised by my silence.
“Slor Tonn... from below,” I crinkle-croaked. “Infidel alive... barely. I’m... used up. Nothing left... but ghost bones and teeth.”
“Bones and teeth are rather durable,” said Sorrow, sounding clinical. “They can last centuries. Perhaps your rate of disintegration will slow now.”
Her words were both a comfort and a curse. Perhaps I could linger for centuries in this condition. But did I want to? All my strength had been stripped away. I felt as if I was in the grip of the most formidable, incapacitating hangover of all time.
“In any case, just hold on,” said Sorrow. “There’s not much left for me to do with the
Freewind
. Even with my powers, the damage the keel has suffered is beyond repair. Levi is trying to convince Gale to abandon ship.”
I wondered what this would mean for the ghost of Jasmine Romer, but had no energy to ask the question.
“I’m going to join you once I’ve made preparations,” Sorrow said.
“How?” I asked, or tried, as my voice gave out.
“I’ll be out of contact a while as I focus on... on something important,” Sorrow said. “Just hold on a little longer.”
I didn’t have the strength to ask further questions. I could only watch helplessly as the ogre village appeared on the horizon. Given the stark sameness of the landscape, I hadn’t noticed before how low Slor Tonn was now flying. With the village providing a fixed reference, I noticed that the whale was cutting a rather drunken path through the sky. How much damage had Infidel done when she’d hit him?
I had my answer a moment later, as we reached the edge of the village and Slor Tonn failed to clear one of the ice domes. It shattered beneath his belly. The mighty whale’s body trembled as he gave one last push with his tail, trying to gain altitude, but he rose only a few dozen feet before his arc leveled out. He swam through the air another quarter-mile toward the cliff temple. At that point, despite Tarpok calling out commands urging him onward, the beast’s body went slack. We slammed into the ice, sliding a hundred yards across the glassy surface before skidding to a halt.
We were soon surrounded by a throng of ice-ogres. Three of the crowd were ogresses dressed in long, black walrus coats, the same style that Aurora used to wear. I’d always assumed she was merely being stylish, but now I wondered if this was some sacred garb of her priesthood, since the three black-coated ogresses began to shout commands that were instantly obeyed. They also sported the same topknots of blue hair, and were somewhat shorter than the other ogres in the surrounding crowd.
Once more, I found my lack of actual vocabulary to be less of a hindrance to understanding what was being said than one might suppose. Tarpok freed Infidel from her bindings and tossed her limp form to the nearest priestess, with a gruff statement that certainly amounted to, “Here’s your damn monster.”
The priestess responded with a question ending in the word, “Purity?”
Tarpok shrugged. He loosened the Gloryhammer and brandished it. His next sentence was short and declarative. I’m pretty sure it translated, “I’m keeping this.”
He slid down from the whale, pausing as he caught sight of my limp form tangled in the harness. “How the hell did this get here?” was the gist of his grumble as he ripped me free and tossed me across the ice.
Almost immediately, an ice-ogre ran toward me, only to be knocked aside by another who dove and slid across the ice as he scooped up my component parts in his thick arms. He stood and growled something threatening and the dozen hungry-looking ogres staring at him kept their distance. If I could have chuckled, I would have. I think they thought I was edible. Were they in for a disappointment!
The ogre who’d claimed me carried me away, walking past Slor Tonn’s mouth. The whale had vomited when it landed and the ice was covered in seal parts and half-chewed cod, which other ogres were fighting over.
Slor Tonn had what I can only describe as a split lip, a yard-long gash running up from a now-toothless segment of his upper jaw, jagging like a raw-pink lightning bolt in an arc back toward his left eye. Tarpok and a priestess stood by the beast’s head, their hands upon it as they whispered words of comfort to the wounded whale. I felt a sense of remorse – no one likes to see an animal suffering – mixed with a feeling of satisfaction that Infidel had at least gotten in one good lick.
As for Infidel, I caught one last glimpse as I was carried away, when I spied the priestess carrying her toward the carved cliff-side, cradling her like a baby.
Still unable to lift a limb or even move my tongue, I was helpless as my ogre captor carried me through the village back to his home. He stooped to enter the icy dome. A trio of young ogres looked up as he entered. An ogress with four flabby teats rolled over on a nest of seal skins and asked something. My captor responded by throwing me to the floor. One of my eyes popped off and skittered across the ice as my coconut skull cracked on impact.
The ogress asked something to the effect, “How am I supposed to cook that?”
The ogre seemed to reply, “Don’t vex me, woman! I’ve done my part!”
The ogress stirred from the bed, muttering beneath her breath as she reached to grab the nutshell. She crushed it between her thick fingers, then pulled the rest of my form to her. She quickly stripped free what remained of my cloak and pants. She looked utterly crushed as she found nothing but rotting wood underneath.
If she’d bothered tearing open my chest, she would have found the precious metals inside, and maybe the male ogre could have pretended that the whole wooden body thing was just a way of hiding his real gift, a tiny golden cage with a silver mosquito. But, instead of opening my chest, she looked up at her mate and said a single word that certainly didn’t sound like, “Thanks!”
The male responded with a savage growl and a sudden, backhanded slap across the ogress’s cheek. He shouted at her, a rapid string of syllables I couldn’t begin to pick apart. The three young ogres all huddled together at the farthest side of the room, eyes wide with terror.
The ogress ran her hand across her mouth. She paused to study the blood on her fingertips. She said something in a calm, firm tone.
The male ogre sagged, his face going slack, his arms dangling uselessly by his side. Whatever she’d said to him had taken all the fight out of him. He turned slowly and slouched away, pausing to look at his children with a mournful gaze, before stooping to crawl from the ice-hut.
Ogre-mom lifted me up, staring at my coconut face with an expression of complete disgust. Then, without further ado, she tossed my body on the dung-fire.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
TONGUE OF FLAME
T
HE FIRE WAS
slow to claim me. At first, I wondered if I might extinguish the flames as the ice that coated my wooden form melted, sending water gushing into the foul slurry of whale oil and dung. The water pooled into shallow circles that hissed and turned to steam.
My paper tongue loosened as the ice crystals that stiffened it melted away.
“Save me,” I whispered, but my voice was too faint for the ogres to hear over the sizzle of the flames as they licked the oak staves of my chest.
“Sorrow,” I cried out, praying she would hear, not knowing what she could possibly do. Alas, she didn’t answer, or if she did, I failed to hear it as my seed pod ear shriveled, crackling in the heat.
I had no choice but to abandon my wooden body. But once I was rid of it, could what remained of my spirit endure? Could I ignore the subtle whisper growing ever louder in my mind to accept that I was dead, that it was time to disperse, to surrender what slight energy remained in me back to the universe?
Within my golden cage, I tried to urge my spiritual body toward the door. I failed to budge. I lacked the energy even to crawl. I could do nothing but smolder and wonder what came next.
The paper at the back of my coconut jaws crinkled and writhed as it baked in the increasing heat. Any second my tongue would burst into flames, silencing me forever. But what was left to say?
Despite the growing heat a chill ran through me as I realized there was only one name one dare not waste if gifted with a tongue of flame. A jet of smoke curled from my ragged jaws as I spoke: “Greatshadow!”
The embers that swirled above my desiccating body suddenly turned. The swirl of sparks paused for an instant into a shape resembling the head of a horse. Twin clusters of sparks on each side coalesced into eyes, studying me.
“Help me,” I murmured, with my tongue now wreathed with dancing fire.
“You are familiar to me,” whispered the smoke and cinders above.
“I’m the husband of Innocent Brightmoon,” I said, as my tongue crumbled to ash.
The flames about me danced into a decidedly serpentine appearance. The outline of an equine head filled with more red sparks, thickening to resemble scales. Smoke knifed into the shape of fangs as the creature’s mouth parted to speak. “You are Abstemious Merchant. You brought the Jagged Heart to my kingdom to kill me.”
“I came to your kingdom to rescue the woman I loved,” I said, though I no longer had a tongue. This didn’t hinder Greatshadow’s ability to hear me. “She spared your life when you were at your weakest. You owe her.”
“I owe her nothing. And you, less than nothing,” the dragon said.
“It’s a favor I seek, not a reward. Save Infidel. At the very minimum, help me save her.”
By now, the boards in my chest had dried sufficiently to catch fire with a sudden
WHOOOMPH
. Jets of flame from my shoulders reached up like a beggar’s arms, pleading for Greatshadow’s aid. “Infidel reminded you of how well humans have served your purposes,” I said, desperate to persuade him. “We feed you daily. Even now, you devour my body. Is it too much to ask for a little help in return?”
Greatshadow said nothing.
There was a sudden pain, sharp and stabbing, where my heart used to be. The gold and silver inside me were melting.
“Please,” I whispered.
Greatshadow turned his face away. “Even if I wanted to help you, what makes you believe I have the power?”
“You
are
power,” I whispered. “If you cannot aid me, then all hope is lost.”
Greatshadow continued to look away. With a sigh, he said, “Your faith is great. What you ask shall be given... for a price. You will give me your body in exchange.”
“Anything,” I sobbed.
“So be it,” he said.
The swirling flames above me took on the shape of a large red claw, reaching for my chest.
About five years ago, I’d bitten into an olive and been careless of the pit. I’d cracked a molar right down the root. Infidel had volunteered to yank the tooth, using iron tongs borrowed from a blacksmith. I downed shot after shot of whiskey until her offer sounded sensible, then let her get to work.
I should have drunk a
lot
more whiskey.
This tooth extraction came to mind as the tiny speck of blood inside the mechanical mosquito within me began to boil and bubble free from its tiny cage. It was as if Greatshadow’s claws had reached inside and snagged my soul, and now yanked it loose with the same bone-mangling enthusiasm that Infidel had displayed in her amateur dentistry.
Slowly the pain subsided. The ringing in my ears ceased as I stopped screaming. The stars dancing before my eyes faded one by one. I was left staring at my clenched fingers, writhing in the air before me.
I had fingers. I had arms!