Page 110 of The Cradle of Ice

“It appears we’re heading back,” Graylin said, stepping closer to her.

He was proven right when their barge slowly swung around, pulled by the six orksos. The other skiffs followed suit, each turning like a needle in a compass.

As the flotilla headed back to Kefta, Graylin kept his gaze on the burial site. The hot mists had dampened his shirt to his chest, wetting his hair to his scalp.

“Did you sense any presence of the Dreamers?” he whispered.

“No, but I dared not probe with bridle-song. Not amidst all the grief.”

She had also held off for another reason. Ularia kept looking their way with narrowed eyes, her expression darkly curious. Nyx had sensed that the woman would pounce upon them at any misstep, any show of power.

Graylin turned to Shiya. “Do you sense anything?”

She shook her head. “But water muffles sound. Especially at these depths. It would take great strength for any song to reach the surface.”

Graylin glanced at Meryk, who stood off to the side with Vikas, clearly not wanting his words to be heard by Daal’s father. “If neither of you senses anything, maybe there’s nothing down there. We’ll risk everything by venturing out here again.”

Nyx might have succumbed to such reasoning, except for one detail. Daal. He had experienced something in the depths of these waters, something that had scarred and terrified him.

“The Dreamers are down there,” Nyx insisted. “I don’t know what they are, but they abide below.”

Waiting for us.

* * *

DAAL PACED A small circle at the end of a stone pier. He had wended his skiff through the moored and anchored boats of Kefta’s bay and found an open spot to tether up.

Nearby, Neffa and Mattis floated in their harnesses. He had fed them fistfuls of thumb-sized minwins. Still, they remained hungry, slashing the waves with their horns, but he didn’t want them to bloat. They had leagues to go before the day was over.

He stopped at the end of the pier and chuffed softly to the two orksos, apologizing for keeping them tied up. Neffa answered with a weary puff of steam from her nostrils.

It won’t be much longer, he promised her.

He knew the beasts’ agitation was not solely due to hunger and impatience. The two sensed his own anxiety. Or maybe Neffa remembered when last they’d plied the deep waters off Kefta’s shores.

Half a year ago.

The memory overwhelmed him, drawing him back.

He and his father had joined an armada of skiffs headed from Iskar to the seas surrounding the island. They came to hunt the massive keftas, the namesake of the town. Such beasts grew to the size of barges, requiring the coordination of many to secure one.

Even now, he flashed to waves washed red, a kefta fighting hard, speared and thrashing. Its flanks glowed and flickered in stripes of panic. Standing next to his father, he had balked with his own spear, a hesitation that had allowed the kefta to lift its tail and smash their skiff, breaking it apart.

He was thrown far, dumped deep into the sea. When he surfaced, the furious fight had moved on. Panicked, he swam toward the battle, only to be blocked by fins rising around them. A shiver of Kell sharks had been drawn by the blood.

In that moment, he knew his death had come, even accepted it.

Then Neffa burst under him, still tangled in the shreds of the skiff’s broken harness. She caught him on her back. He barely had time to snatch hold of the leather yoke before she buried her horn into the waves and dove deep, sweeping tail and wings to escape.

They were chased by the sharks, driven farther from the other skiffs. More hunters closed upon them, attracted to the thrashing. Daal didn’t try to guide Neffa, trusting in her instincts. She slashed at any threat, bloodying the waters, leaving a trail.

Finally, Neffa burst high out of the water. Daal lost his grip, too tired to hold on. He tumbled off her back, but his ankle tangled in a loop of leather. As she crashed back into the waves, she dragged him with her, driving ever deeper, into dark waters, where light never reached. Still, the hunters closed upon them.

Despite the pressure stabbing his ears, he heard Neffa’s distressed cries calling to other orksos for help. The sound echoed in his skull, shook his ribs. He held out for as long as he could, clamping his lips and trapping his breath.

Then he could last no longer.

He used the last of his air to add his voice to hers, screaming in the darkness for rescue. As his lungs gave out and water flooded into him, something finally answered their call.