Page 124 of The Simurgh

‘This weather…is it natural for these places?’ Silas’s hair was plastered against his skull, he was blinking against the torrents as he tried to look up. ‘There are no clouds. It’s as though its falling from thin air.’

‘I never saw it in the Seelie Court, but who knows here? Gods, I cannot wait to be rid of this place.’

He found no real shelter beside Silas’s hulking frame, for the rain was coming down in perfectly-straight, ceaseless streams. There was not a hint of any breeze, and the ground was quickly turning boggy with all the saturation. Pitch stomped straight into a sizeable puddle, the water covering his feet entirely. When he cursed, Silas offered his back once more.

‘Gods no, can you imagine the chafing with all this moisture?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, just get up…’

Silas’s silence came with a sudden halt. Pitch sidestepped to avoid colliding with him, and found himself up to the knees in a deep puddle, the ground beneath his feet so horridly slimy that he lunged for whatever he could anchor onto, and found Silas’s coat sleeve. The audible rip of cloth only barely registered as the ankou gathered him up.

‘This is bloody ridiculous. It’s like being back in the sodding marshlands.’ Silas wrapped an arm about Pitch’s waist, hoisting him from the quagmire. But instead of setting him down, he kept Pitch there, hanging at his side, like a pet dog too dirty to cradle, and continued on.

‘Excuse me?’ Pitch said. ‘I have feet.’

‘And they keep ending up in bogs.’

‘Because you keep stopping unnecessarily.’ Pitch made a halfhearted attempt at trying to free himself. It was mildly uncomfortable to have the ankou’s hip bone poking his thigh, but it certainly was a less hazardous way to travel.

‘I thought I saw something moving in the rain.’

‘How can you see any damned thing in this?’ Pitch wiped at his face, pushing his hair back for the hundredth time. But it was like someone stood over them with a full bucket, pouring it without remorse.

Silas’s body stiffened. ‘There, do you see?’

Pitch couldn’t, not to begin with. He could barely keep his eyes open wide enough to see much beyond the next step. He had to reach for Silas’s arm, and trace along it, to see where he pointed.

A dark shape, airborne, sweeping off to their right.

‘Is that a raven?’ There had been notably none of the creatures since the mouse-bird in the tower.

‘I believe so.’

Pitch tried once more to wriggle free. ‘Set me down, I’ll deal with it.’ The flame was already to hand, just the glow of it beneath the skin on his hands, lighting up the ground beneath them. Silas was ankle-deep in water.

The ankou set him down but touched a cautionary hand to Pitch’s forearm. ‘No, no, wait.’

‘Gods, why?’

‘I just need to make sure.’

All Pitch was sure of was that he was drenched, right down to the pucker of his arsehole, and sick of it. Glaring at his glowing hands, he nearly slapped himself for being so slow. They need not be wet at all. He raised his free hand. The flame plumed from his fingertips, arcing over them, forming a blazing umbrella against the unbelievable downpour. The hissing of the water as it turned to steam made it necessary to shout, but at least he could look on the ankou without fear of drowning.

Pitch needed to slap himself a second time. No wonder the massive man at his side looked so troubled. He had drowned in floodwaters, on a day he’d described as very similar to this.

‘Silas, I’ll not let it happen again. Do you hear me?’

But he didn’t. Silas was fixated on the darkened shape that swept back and forth, growing a little larger with each pass.

‘Silas, look at me.’ When the ankou didn’t respond immediately, Pitch took his chin between his fingers, and gave him no choice. ‘They are not preying on your mind again, are they?’

He was slow to answer. ‘No, no, it’s not like that.’

‘But you are hearing something?’

He nodded, his gaze shifting in rapid flicks between Pitch and the approaching raven. ‘I am hearing her, yes.’

The flaming umbrella hissed and sizzled, the steam drifting low, pummelled by the onslaught of water.