Chapter 30

The Emerald Sea, Neron

Left on their own, Hult knew he and the others would be lost within a day. The jungles were unlike any place he had ever known, even more frightening than the Dreaming Green. Having lived most of his life on the open, golden grasses of the Tamire, he found the riot of greenery and closeness of the trees as alien as the bottom of the ocean. Nowhere he looked could he see more than a dozen paces ahead—usually much less. In places the growth became so thick, they had to use swords to cut through the tough vines, creepers, and shrubbery that clawed and scratched at their flesh. The air felt thick, so heavy with water it was hard to breathe, and the frequent, violent rain showers did nothing to relieve the relentless heat.

The nights were even worse. The cha'asii slept soundly, but this was their home. The rest of the group found only skittish rest, constantly jumping at growls and shuddering moans from the dark. When dawn came, they were still tired from the night before. Fortunately, these strange woods provided even for that: the cha'asii gave them leaves from a black-barked tree and told them to chew. Hult was leery at first, particularly at the bitter taste, but once he started, he found new energy flowing into him. The leaves, which the elves called ulashu, reminded him of the yarta root his people ate before battle. But yarta only worked for so many days before a rider became immune to its effects. Hult hoped the ulashu were more potent, because he didn't think he would sleep through a single night while he was in the Emerald Sea.

The war band moved at a slog, sometimes traveling so slowly it seemed not to make any progress at all. Distances a rider could have devoured in an hour on the Tamire took a whole day to cover. The ground rose into steep, rocky hills, slick with rotting leaves, or dove into gorges where white rivers thundered; these they had to cross by felling trees and inching across the moss-covered trunks. Even worse were the lowest depressions of the land, where the ground grew so boggy it felt as if they might fall in and drown. Indeed, one time Forlo got stuck in a pit of mud that tried to suck him under; it took Hult, Shedara, and three cha'asii hauling on a vine to haul him out again. The air was thick with biting flies, glistening blue and violet in the sunlight—and they were only the least of the jungle's nuisances. There were also spiders the size of small dogs, scorpions with red skulls on their shells, massive black jungle cats that had to be driven away with much shouting and clashing of spears, and snakes so large Hult could scarcely believe his eyes. Once, he saw a serpent that had to be thirty paces long, which had pulled a deer up onto a low-hanging branch and was swallowing the animal whole.

Twelve days passed. Hult had no idea where they were anymore. It seemed this accursed wood might go on forever. Sooner or later, the jungle would defeat them. And it would take Eldako first.

Even with the strengthening spell Yu-shan had cast, the wild elf was suffering. Eldako started each morning walking on his own, but by midday he began to stagger, and sunset found him leaning hard on one of his friends—usually Shedara, but Hult and Forlo helped as well. His face was pale beneath its war paint, and though he refused to speak a word of complaint, they could all tell how much his wounds pained him.

"Why is he even with us?" Hult murmured to Forlo on the twelfth evening, watching while Shedara helped the merkitsa swallow water from a hollow gourd. "He can't shoot a bow. He can lift a sword, but we both know he can't fight. We should never have brought him on this journey."

Forlo nodded then sighed. "I know. I think the same thing every time he stumbles. But he thinks he still has a part to play—and the Grandmother seemed to agree." He flinched and looked away into the night when Eldako's scarred face turned toward them. "Maybe he's wrong about that… but who's going to tell him? We didn't let him come along. He chose to. And as long as he's not slowing us down too much, I'll respect that."

Hult grunted. "Can he still feel your woman's mind?" he asked. "Is she still alive?"

"He hasn't said. And I haven't asked."

They were close now; they could all feel it. In two days they would come to Akh-tazi—the elves had told them as much, reading whatever invisible clues they used to tell where they were in this nightmare land. The only thing that kept Forlo going was the belief that his wife still lived. He couldn't risk knowing the truth now; if he was wrong, he would fall apart.

Hult had never met Essana of Coldhope. After all this time with her husband, though, he knew she must be a remarkable woman. He hoped he would have the chance to know her. He said nothing of this to Forlo, though—only clapped his friend's shoulder and lay down, staring at the branches above and waiting for sleep that wouldn't come.

They had just stopped for a rest at midday the next day when several elves, who had gone on to scout ahead, stepped suddenly out of the hushes and spoke in hushed tones with Le-nekh, the warrior in charge of the band. There was a great deal of gesturing, but Hult couldn't hear more than the occasional word.

One, however was akitu-shai.

"Trouble?" he asked Le-nekh when the scouts had finished. "Are there Maws near?"

The elf looked at him, his painted face stern. "Very near. Akh-tazi is only two valleys away. We are in their land now. A party stands in our way. And… they are not alone."

"What is it?" Forlo asked, a hand on his sword. "One of the Faceless?"

"No. Vaka-te-nok. The Mouth Beneath the Earth."

The others exchanged glances. Forlo shook his head, and Shedara shrugged. Eldako, however, caught his breath. "This Vaka," he said. "Is it a large beast, black, with many tentacles around a great, snapping beak? Does it wait for its prey beneath the leaves?"

"They dwell in your woods as well, I see," Le-nekh said. "They are abominations, bred by the Maws in ancient times. There must have been akitu-shai in the north, once."

Eldako nodded. "Long gone, if so. The Vaka are called winlesh in our land. They are hard to kill. But if you know where one is, it should be easy to avoid. They do not move on their own, after all."

The cha'asii exchanged glances. Le-nekh scowled.

"Perhaps not in your land," he said. "Here, though… where the earth is soft… ."

"Can't we go around?" Shedara asked. "There must be a way."

Le-nekh shook his head. "Not for many days' journey. A ravine lies between here and Akh-tazi. It is a hundred miles long, and too broad for trees to cross. The only way is the Bridge of Tears. That is where the Maws and the Vaka await."

"Then we have no choice," Forlo said, loosening his blade in its scabbard. "The black moon is nearly full. Maladar is coming."

"There will be no more secrecy, if we fight," Hult said. "If what Eldako believes is true, the Maws' minds all touch one another. If they see us coming, the Faceless will know."

"Then let them know," Forlo said. "Let them fear us."

Shedara held up a hand. "Hang on. We might not be able to hide the fact that we're coming, but we can keep them from finding out how many we are." She turned to the scouts. "How many Maws were there?"

They spoke with each other, whispering and gesturing, then one waggled his hand. "Eight, maybe ten. No more than that."

"Ten," Eldako said. "If I could still shoot"

"Shooting or no, we can handle ten," Forlo said, cutting him off. "They're easy to kill, if their minds can't reach us. And as for this Vaka—"

"Leave that to me," Shedara said, flexing her hands. She looked at the others, eyebrows raised. "Well? Shall we?"

The Bridge of Tears was a span of black stone, a single crumbling arch webbed with tough vines that, to Hult's eyes, seemed to be the only thing keeping it from tumbling down into the chasm below. Greenery grew right up to the canyon's edge, then began again on the far side, trees leaning out over the abyss to grasp at sunlight. Mist and the sound of raging water rose out of the ravine. The river that plunged through the cut was ferocious, nothing but white foam battering jagged rocks.

There were, in fact, nine Maws guarding the span. They stood in groups of three, one on the bridge, the others to either side. They peered this way and that, each group maintaining an eerie rhythm that left no direction unobserved, even for a moment. Their tentacles writhed in silent communion. Hult's lip curled at the sight of the creatures—so different, so alien from anything he'd ever seen.

"Where's this Vaka?" whispered Forlo, crouched in the brush beside him. They were far enough back that leaves and shadows hid them from view, and the cha'asii talismans kept their minds out of the monsters' reach.

"I think it was there," Shedara replied, pointing at a spot near the rightmost group of Maws. The black earth there was broken, churned like a freshly dug grave. But there was no sign of the creature the elves had spoken of.

Eldako coughed, his good eye darting this way and that. "It could be anywhere, if the ones in these lands burrow to hunt, rather than waiting for prey."

They all glanced down. Hult drew his sword, feeling ill.

"You've seen these things," he said. "Is there any sign before they attack?"

The merkitsa shook his head. "Not much. The ground will tremble a little, then heave and burst. It happens in an instant."

"Great," Forlo said, sliding his own weapon from its scabbard. His eyes fixed on the soil at his feet.

"Don't worry about the Vaka," Shedara said. "I said I'd deal with it. You handle the Maws."

Hult nodded, glancing back toward the bridge. "We could rush them," he said. "Take them by surprise. They won't put up much of a fight."

"But we'll draw the Vaka right to us," Eldako said, then glanced at Shedara. "I'm sorry. I can't not think about it. I saw one of those things kill half a hunting party once before we brought it down. It ripped them limb from limb."

Forlo licked his lips. "Push through to the bridge, in that case. It can get under us on solid ground, but there we'll be safe."

"Safe?" Hult repeated. "Trapped on that thing, surrounded by the Maws?"

"You just said they won't put up much of a fight."

"Keep your voices down," hissed Shedara.

"Forlo is right," Eldako said. "When my people fight the winlesh, we always try to put stone under our feet. The bridge will keep us from harm."

Hult looked at the wild elf, then at Forlo, then back at Eldako again. He was outnumbered, but couldn't shake the bad feeling the bridge gave him. In the end, he shrugged.

"All right," Forlo said. A cunning smile curled his lips. He was a man born for battle. Hult understood—he was the same way. "On three. One—"

The ground beneath them trembled.

"Go!" Eldako yelled, leaping out of cover. He grabbed Shedara's arm to drag her away. "It has come! Go!"

They hurled themselves forward just in time. Behind, there was a thump as the soil flew up; great clots of it struck Hult in the back as he ran, and finer powder rained down all around, pattering into the underbrush. Then there was a massive, furious screech, and something whipped by, just over Hult's head. He glanced up, and his mind went blank: it was a long, black tentacle, as thick as his leg and covered in bony barbs like thorns. A sharp, white hook protruded from the end. He ducked, stumbled, somehow kept his balance, and kept running.

More tentacles lashed the air. They jumped, twisted, ducked—and suddenly Forlo was gone, yanked off his feet with a yell and hauled into the air. Hult whirled, his sword whipping around. It slit open a tentacle, exposing bulging gray flesh beneath. Ichor sprayed, stinking like rotten meat. The limb lashed at him, and he cut it again, catching it closer to the tip. Two twitching, rubbery feet of it flopped down among the ferns, and the stump jerked away, slime spurting from the wound. Somewhere behind it, the horrible screech rang out again.

I made it angry, Hult thought with satisfaction.

"Khot!" shouted a voice above him. "Rut with your mother, you stinking whore-son!"

Hult glanced up. Forlo dangled among the treetops, held aloft by a tentacle that had curled around his legs. Somehow, he'd held on to his blade, and was hewing the air wildly, trying to cut through the Vaka. It wasn't working. Gritting his teeth, Hult started forward.

Shedara flung out an arm, hitting him in the chest and shoving him back. "Let me handle it, I said!" she yelled. "Deal with the Maws!"

Hult was about to argue when a pair of tentacles shot toward them out of the churning earth. Shedara pointed, shouting in the language of magic, and a bolt of white lightning arrowed from her fingertip, searing through one and blackening the second. The Vaka howled, pulling the limbs back into the soil.

"Go!" Shedara yelled. "Help Eldako!"

With a glance, Hult saw that the merkitsa had run ahead without them, awkward-gaited from his wound, but holding his sword high as he charged the Crawling Maws. Hult swallowed hard and turned and ran as Shedara blasted another of the Vaka's tentacles.

It was easy to catch up to Eldako, slowed as he was by his burns. They hit the first group of Maws side by side, blades carving the air in unison. Two pallid heads came free, whirling away. Two slimy bodies crumpled to the ground. The third leaped back, eyes narrowing, gill-like slits opening on either side of its bulbous skull. Hult felt a weird, shivery sensation, like claws scrabbling at the edge of his mind, and he knew the Maw was trying to break through the magic of the talisman.

Hult stopped it by ramming his sword through its gut. Gargling, the thing groped at the blade, then went limp. Hult swung the weapon, flinging the dead creature off; it flopped near the chasm's edge, rolled, and vanished into nothingness.

The other six Maws were regrouping, drawing hooked blades, somewhere between knives and swords in length. Hult and Eldako barreled onto the bridge. The Maws milled about in disarray, then followed them onto the span. Eldako killed one, hewing off its sword arm and then hacking deep into its face. Brains spattered them.

Cilia waving, the Maws backed away, leaving Hult and Eldako standing back-to-back. Behind them, there was a peal of thunder, a flash, and a scream. Hult saw Shedara pull Forlo away from the smoldering remains of a tentacle, ripped out and blackened at its root. Of the rest of the Vaka, there was no more sign.

Then the Maws made their move. They came on in perfect coordination now, their minds linked together. Hult could sense their thoughts, cold and gruesome. Their swords danced; he parried and nearly had his weapon wrenched from his grasp as a Maw twisted its blade's hooked tip around it. With a grunt, he stepped back, then punched the Maw in the face with his free hand. Its flesh was soft and spongy, absorbing the blow as its mouth-tentacles shot out and wrapped around his wrist.

He howled as tiny hooks dug into his flesh, anchoring the creature's grip, then he kicked another Maw in the stomach as it tried to stab him. The creature folded up, dropping to its knees. Meanwhile, the one that had hold of him swung a blow of its own, cutting his leg just above the knee.

Pain bloomed, somewhere in the back of his mind, but he thrust the sensation aside and swept his sword in low. It sliced into the Maw's side. The creature squealed, knees buckling, and dropped its sword as the life ebbed from its body. It nearly dragged Hult down with it, but he brought his sword around as the tentacles pulled taut and cut them off in a mass. Spinning, he aimed another kick at the Maw he'd winded, hit it in the neck, and knocked it off the bridge.

His side of the bridge clear, he tore the severed tentacles from his wrist and turned to see that Eldako had killed one of the Maws on his side. Now only two remained—and Forlo was attacking them from behind. He drove his sword through one Maw's back, then reversed the stroke and hit the second between the eyes with the pommel. The creature stumbled back and toppled into the canyon.

Shedara was there too, standing on the bridge, looking back the way they'd come. Her fingers curled and uncurled, sparks dancing between their tips.

"What happened?" Eldako asked, cringing with pain. He'd been cut too, a bloody furrow running half the length of his forearm. "Is the Vaka dead?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I fried it, and it let Forlo go, but then it disappeared, down into the dirt. Hard thing to kill."

"At least we're safe here," Hult said. "You were right about that, Forlo. As long as we stay—"

Before he could finish the thought, though, a geyser erupted right at the bridge's end, spraying them with dirt. Five tentacles burst out of the soil at once… then wrapped around the span and heaved. The bridge shuddered, driving Eldako to his knees and sending Hult stumbling toward its edge. Forlo caught his arm before he could fall into the misty fissure and hauled him back.

"It's going to rip the whole bridge out!" Forlo yelled. "Do something!"

"Not yet," Shedara said, squaring her stance as the bridge shuddered again. She backed away from the creature, lips moving, hands held out before her. Hult glanced behind him, at the far end, and knew they couldn't make it to safe ground before the span toppled into the chasm.

"If not now, when?" Forlo muttered, his mouth twisting.

The tentacles tightened their grasp, shaking the bridge again. Shedara tensed, her fingers curling… then relaxed, shaking her head. "It's no good. I can't kill it if I can't see it. We've got to bring it up out of the ground."

"How?" Hult asked, grabbing Forlo as the other man stumbled.

"Cut it!" Eldako said, fighting to regain his footing. "Make it angry! That's how my people do it!"

Hult and Forlo needed no more goading. Together they lunged, pushing past Shedara and driving their swords into the Vaka's limbs. They stabbed, hewed, and hacked, sending ichor spurting in all directions—and with a bellow, the creature heaved itself up out of the ground.

Its body was shaped like one of the Maws' heads, but much, much larger—a bloated, black bag of flesh with two tiny, yellow eyes and a snapping beak in the midst of its mangled and blackened tentacles. Hult stood transfixed, appalled by the sight, and by the hideous stench billowing from its jaws. It mewled like a hungry baby.

"Get down, damn it!" Shedara yelled. "Move!"

Forlo knocked Hult down then leaped back, out of the way. Thunder roared, deafening them, and every hair on Hult's body stood up as a lance of lightning seared the air, right above his back. He shut his eyes. The darkness flashed red. The Vaka screamed… and then there was a spluttering, exploding noise, and the sound of wet things falling from the sky. Something rank and slimy slapped his cheek, making him retch.

Hult opened his eyes and beheld the carnage. The Vaka's remains lay ruptured and smoking at the end of the bridge. Shedara's lightning had hit it square in the beak and blown it apart, throwing innards all over the place. Gray sludge dripped from the bridge and ran in rivulets over the cliff's edge. The reek of burned flesh made his eyes water. The tentacles wrapped around the span had gone slack and unwound as he watched, to slide down over the abyss. Their weight made the whole creature pitch forward, and he stared in disgusted silence as it finally slipped over the edge and disappeared into the fog.

"Khot," Forlo swore.

Hult rolled over, looking up at Shedara. She smiled at him, wiping slime from her face. "See?" she asked. "I told you I'd take care of it."