Of the Abyss (21 page)

She wasn't lying to protect Hansa and Umber, but herself. She couldn't trust Alizarin to always have the presence of mind or the motivation to protect them, and without him, Umber was the only one of them with a chance of being able to navigate the Abyss and find a way back to the mortal realm successfully. If Xaz had any choice in the matter, she would do everything in her power to avoid trekking into the bowels of the Abyssal court, but if Umber went, she would need to go with him.

 

CHAPTER 25

W
hat is wrong with me?

Hansa's training had been focused on how to identify and fight mancers, the mortals who
served
the Abyssi and Numini, not on the capabilities of the Others themselves—­that last was knowledge reserved for the Order of the Napthol. Without Cadmia's education, Umber's Abyssi parentage, or Xaz's experience as a mancer, it was hard for him to follow the theories the others bandied about regarding what the Others could or couldn't do.

It was even harder than it might have been, because every now and then his attention would be caught by the shape of Umber's jaw or the warmth of his body and long moments would go by. Hansa would realize he had moved close to the spawn, or pressed his hand into the deep indigo glow that surrounded him and shimmered in response to his touch.

Blood-­drunk,
he reminded himself, remembering what Umber had called his reaction after they had rescued Pearl. He had tasted Umber's blood again just before stepping into the Abyssi, hadn't he?

Each time he noticed what he had done, he moved back, though something inside him wept to pull away from that shivering glow. It had passed last time; it would pass this time.

“There is a camp of shades outside the court, or was when I was here before,” Alizarin said, sounding impatient. “We should go there.”

He started walking, leaving the rest of them to scramble after him.

“Why there?” Xaz asked.

“They have walls,” Alizarin answered. “And weapons. I should hunt before Antioch finds us, and you want to be somewhere safer before I leave you.”

The logic seemed sound, but as Hansa tried to follow Alizarin, a feeling like ants skittering across his skin overwhelmed him. It made his muscles twitch. Before he could identify the sensation, Umber asked, “Is it possible that the shades we're seeking have found this camp?”

The Abyssi glanced over his shoulder just long enough to shrug, then said, “Shades normally appear near where they died.”

Was that an answer?

Alizarin kept walking. Cadmia trotted after him, catching up and speaking excitedly. “So the Abyss really is analogous to the mortal plane?” she asked. “And there are really levels,” she added. “How many?”

That was a yes,
Umber supplied, for Hansa's benefit. His warmth against Hansa's side and arm across his shoulders was as much a comfort as the words, though Hansa wasn't sure which of them had initiated the contact.
They might be nearby. We can get to safety and still pursue our goal.

As soon as the assurance had been uttered, the jittery discomfort faded.

When Hansa tried to gather his will to shrug off the spawn's touch, though, he found he lacked the motivation. This had already happened too many times for him to hope the others wouldn't notice, so what was the point?

Meanwhile, Alizarin sidled closer to Cadmia, his feet barely seeming to disturb the black sand beneath them. Hansa would have stepped back; Cadmia almost leaned toward him, as if he were a fascinating butterfly she wanted to observe. “Five,” he said. “I have never been deeper than the third, but my sire was of the fifth.”

“You are exceptionally excited to be in the land of the damned,” Xaz remarked, speaking Hansa's thoughts in what sounded like a forcedly level tone.

Cadmia tensed, her face taking on the placid, thoughtful expression Hansa was beginning to realize was a mask. “I know I should be horrified by this entire situation, but this is a chance to learn more about the field I have spent my adult life studying. Don't you understand?”

“I understand you're the one of us who should have been arrested,” Xaz grumbled.

As they moved away from the beach, skeletal structures rose from the sand to surround them. Like ancient trees fossilized in black marble, they were slick in appearance and rippled with glints of copper and rusted iron like dried blood. Luminescent pods the size of chicken eggs hung from their branches, glowing in nursery shades of pale pink, sea-­foam green, and powder blue.

As they passed near one of the trees, Cadmia lifted a hand as if to touch a candy-­pink orb.

Alizarin moved like smoke; faster than Hansa could blink, the Abyssi was on Cadmia's other side, his tail around her wrist yanking her back. The Sister choked out a cry, and asked, “What—­”

“Watch,” the Abyssi commanded. He moved Cadmia several feet further back, then reached up to bat at one of the delicate-­looking pink orbs.

Hansa cringed from the shriek that followed, so he barely saw when the pod burst, spattering the surrounding area with silver ichor that steamed where it hit Alizarin's fur and ate through the back of a large conch-­shaped shell resting at the base of the stone tree.

After a moment, the mercury-­like substance drew together and climbed back up the stone column, higher this time, and reformed into its harmless-­looking pod.

“Don't touch anything that glows,” Alizarin advised. He shook himself, fluffing his fur then smoothing it back down. Hansa saw singed areas on the Abyssi's arms, face, and chest, and didn't want to imagine what would have happened to human flesh. “Except me,” he added as he loped back toward Cadmia.

“Thank you,” Cadmia said, her voice breathy. She lifted a hand, hesitated, then responded to the Abyssi's implied invitation by smoothing a hand down the now-­patchy fur on his forearm. “Are you all right? Your poor fur.”

Was Alizarin
purring
?

“It'll grow back,” Xaz muttered.

“Is that from the shades' camp?” Umber asked, lifting a hand to point to a thread of lighter gray rising into the dark sky. “It looks like smoke.”

Alizarin nodded, tail lashing. Hansa might not have recognized the frustrated expression if it hadn't echoed exactly how he felt every time he stepped away from Umber. If he could find a moment when the Abyssi wasn't around, Hansa would warn Cadmia that while Alizarin was being remarkably well behaved so far, it wasn't a good idea to draw an Abyssi's attention physically.

“This is as close as I should go,” Alizarin said. “If they see me they will not accept you.”

“Are you well enough to do this?” Umber asked Hansa. He spoke slowly, as if choosing his words with care.

Hansa pulled reluctantly away from Umber's warmth. It seemed overly optimistic to assume they would find the other guards in the first place they looked, but if they did, it would go better if they didn't see him snuggling against the Abyss-­spawn man.

What am I going to say to them, anyway?
he wondered.
How will I explain being here with the Abyssi and mancer responsible for their deaths?

What if I see Ruby?

How had it not occurred to him until that moment that she, too, should be here? If shades appeared near where they died, shouldn't she have been at the beach?

Ruby, at least, wouldn't be surprised to see Umber. Hansa remembered her expression when she found them together, as if it confirmed something she had suspected for a long time.

He cleared his throat and said, “Let's go.”

They walked toward the smoke, leaving the Abyssi behind.

When Alizarin said
wall,
Hansa had pictured stones. Instead, an assortment of junk—­large, cracked shells, stones, and thorn-­covered vines—­made a neck-­high barrier that spanned the empty space between the stony trees, enclosing a lopsided circle maybe a quarter acre in total. A man and a woman armed with rough, crooked spears watched them approach with serious expressions.

“Come around this way,” the woman said. “There's a gate.”

Hansa fought to keep his expression neutral. The shades looked like any other humans . . . if he discounted the disquieting tone of their skin and eyes. The woman who had greeted them at the gate looked like she was at the peak of a bout of flu; her skin was clammy and blotchy as if with unbroken fever, gray tinged in a way that made it impossible to tell if she had once been fair or tanned, and her brown eyes had a strange haze to them.

“I'm Yarrow, of Tamar,” the woman said. “Do you know your names?”

They hadn't considered what they were going to tell any shades they met. Supposedly, the dead were sent here for a reason. Could they be trusted? Out of habit, Hansa looked at Cadmia.

“Is it normal not to?” the Sister of the Napthol asked. She sounded composed and neutral as she implied that maybe they didn't know who they were.

Yarrow nodded. “Many ­people don't at first. They don't know who they are, where they're from . . . how they got here. It can take weeks to sort it out, and most don't have weeks before they—­well, you're lucky to have found us quickly.” With the same compassionate bluntness, she asked, “Do you know where you are?”

“Yes,” Cadmia answered this time.

“Weeks?” Hansa asked. He hoped Yarrow thought the panic in his voice was due to his own lost memory, because he couldn't help it. Would they have to be here that long before they had any hope of finding Jenkins and the others?
Could
they wait? Just thinking about it made something in his chest constrict. He didn't think they had that kind of time before the boon would demand they do something else, but the thought of abandoning the others was equally horrific.

Yarrow nodded and said comfortingly, “Don't worry. We'll guide you through it. In the meantime, we have a fire to keep you from the cold, and a little food we can share.”

There were a half-­dozen other shades in the enclosed area, most looking worse than Yarrow. A few stood near the walls, clearly acting as sentries. The others hung back, watching the new group with suspicion.

“I'm guessing you haven't been here long?” Yarrow asked. As she led them to the fire, which was flickering against the wind and belching tarry smoke, one of the other shades stood and walked away without comment.

“Not long,” Umber replied. “It shows?”

Yarrow just smiled sadly. If she was an example of what a shade looked like after a time in the Abyss, it was obvious that Hansa and the others were new. “You must be hungry then. After a while the body starts to forget things like that . . .” She trailed off as if the thought had inspired another, more disturbing one. After a moment she shook herself and continued. “Early on, you still feel things like cold, hunger, and thirst, though they can't kill you.”

She ducked into a patchwork, lean-­to shelter and returned with a bone bowl full of what looked like some strange kind of fruit. Each was about the size of an egg, slate-­gray, and protected by sharp spines. Yarrow demonstrated how to scrape the spines off on the sharp edge of the bowl before cracking the shell to eat the pulpy seeds inside.

“These quench the thirst,” Yarrow said. She put the bowl down next to the fire and said, “I should check on Vim. He's one of our hunters, but was hurt today. It will give the three of you time to talk if you want.”

“You
hunt
the Abyssi?” Umber asked.

Yarrow's eyes widened. “We hunt the mindless beasts who roam this level of the Abyss,” she clarified. “It's dangerous but necessary. None of us could fight one of the true Abyssi.”

She turned away without further word and disappeared into another of the ramshackle shelters. The other shades had drawn back, giving them privacy either from kindness or lack of interest.

“Damn,” Umber whispered. “I knew finding them might be difficult, but it never occurred to me they might not be here to be found yet.”

Wryly, Cadmia said, “We don't have much information from ­people who recall
dying
. The things I could teach the others, if only—­”

She broke off, perhaps noticing that everyone was staring at her. Yes, it was her order's task to study these things, but this level of interest was as disconcerting as Hansa's incessant pull toward Umber.

Who he was too close to again.

Who cares?
he thought.
Your friends aren't here to judge you.

“ 'Ware!” The shout came from the far wall, and made them all jump. After years as a guard, Hansa responded to the sentry's warning instinctively. Even thoughts of Umber disappeared from his mind as he shot to his feet and put the others behind him, wishing he had a weapon.

He looked around at the shades, assuming they had plans for these situations, but instead of running to fight, those who had been armed were dropping their weapons and backing away. Hansa caught the whispered warning: “
Abyssi
.”

The creature who approached the wall had a sleek, furred body, though its shape was closer to the jungle cats Hansa had seen in some Silmari art than Alizarin's mostly humanoid form. Its shaggy fur was mottled gray and black, but the eyes it lifted to them still burned a familiar, brilliant blue.

As it reached the wall its form flickered, shifting to an Abyssi's less-­substantial and more terrifying natural shape as briefly as an eye-­blink; a moment later it was inside the camp, solid again, and clearly focused on their group.

Umber stepped forward, pushing Hansa aside to do so. His body was rigid with tension.

“Greetings,” he said, “from myself and from Alizarin. Are you seeking us?”

Supposedly, Umber had the ability to claim Hansa, and he was clearly invoking Alizarin's ownership to protect the others. Hansa noted the Abyssi's color, though, which one might easily describe as “ashy.” He suspected Antioch might have no interest in respecting Abyssi rules.

“You have something of mine.” Whereas Alizarin's voice had been musical, Antioch's was gravelly, scree cascading down a hillside.

“The Numenmancer belongs to Alizarin,” Umber answered, his poise impressive given what he was facing. “This human belongs to me,” he said, putting a warm hand on Hansa's shoulder before removing it to wave dismissively at Cadmia and add, “And this one is also Alizarin's. I'm sure you can taste his power on her.”