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Chapter Thirty-Four

Rae flinched awake, suddenly aware that he had been drifting, almost dreaming. The light had changed. Thunderheads clustered all around the nest, and stars were peeking out from the wide canvas of the sky overhead. The sun was gone, though the moon had not yet taken its place. The first pattering drops of rain splattered across the nest’s weathered deck. Rae scrambled, grabbing at the harness, an unexpected bout of vertigo sending him reeling. The sword slipped from his knees and clattered to the deck of the stormnest. Swearing, he snatched it up and clutched it to his chest. I fell asleep! With everything going on, and here he was, napping in the rigging. At least he had woken up before those storms reached them. Lalette must be frantic, looking for him.

With his wits firmly gathered, Rae gave the sky another look. There was something odd to the east, a motion in the clouds, as though a river ran through their boiling depths. He climbed the last little bit of mast to try to get a better look.

A swirling wall churned slowly beneath the stars. Turgid lightning crawled across its face, like quicksilver frozen in time. One of the surrounding thunderheads brushed against the wall and was consumed, shredded into pieces, the clouds dissipating in a heartbeat.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was an orderwall. But why would there be an orderwall this far south? We’re most of the way to Fulcrum. Unless...

Rae rubbed his eyes and looked again. The orderwall curved away to the south, and again to the north. Whatever it bordered wasn’t very large.

It was the Eye! The old boundary of Hadroy’s estate, now containing the deepest breach in the Ordered World. The original plan was to get off the Pearlescent as close to the Heretic’s Eye as they could manage, then walk the rest of the way. How they’d get past the garrison of justicars that monitored the Eye, or survive whatever Hell-spawned horrors waited inside, or what they hoped to find once they reached the ruins of Hadroy’s estate . . . Rae hadn’t thought that far ahead. But now that he was there, his mind began to race.

The sound of creaking ropes reached him from below. Rae looped the harness around his leg, then craned his neck over the side of the nest and saw someone crawling up toward him. At first he thought it was Mahk, but as the figure drew closer, he recognized the placid smile of Ensign Collins. Rae relaxed.

“Hello, the nest!” Collins called up. “That you, Raelle?”

“Hello, Mister Collins,” Rae answered. “I must have fallen asleep. Sorry if I caused worry.”

“No worries. Your sister has locked herself in her room, and Mahk is making friends with the crew. And your friend Estev has been shut up with the captain all day. I think he’s trying to convince the man to take us into the Eye!” He laughed awkwardly, the sound almost rigid in the ensign’s mouth. When he continued, the cheer in his voice sounded strained. “It seems you’ve been terrible company of late.” Collins swung over the edge of the nest, standing confidently despite the swaying of the ship and the buffeting wind. He put one hand lightly on the mast, and the other hooked into his belt. “They haven’t noticed you’re missing, yet. But I was curious where you’d gone.”

“Well, your curiosity is satisfied,” Rae said, coming down from his perch. He realized he was still holding the crystalline sword, and tried to hide it behind his back. Collins didn’t seem to notice. The first rumble of thunder shook the air, and heavy raindrops splattered against the deck. “Here I am. Safe as a bug.”

“Yes, I suppose you are,” Collins said. Then he reached forward and shoved Rae in the chest, straight off the edge of the nest. The sword came out of his hand and stuck, point-first, into the wooden planks of the stormnest.

The impact shocked Rae. Collin’s palm struck him hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. He flew over the narrow rail of the stormnest and was instantly among the sails, thrown around by the twin elementals driving the ship forward. It was only the harness that he had casually looped around his leg that saved him. It slapped against his thigh, slithered over his knee and tore rapidly down the length of his leg before jerking to a halt at his foot. There was a second shock of pain as the loop bit into his ankle. He swung back toward the main mast, slamming against the surface of the timber before dangling beneath the stormnest.

“Ah, a stubborn catch. No matter. I will do what I must,” Collins said. He leaned out over the stormnest, his features still as calm as a pond, that easygoing smile nailed to his lips. “They gave me a dream about you. I don’t like it when they send me dreams. It’s unsettling, and I don’t like to be . . .” He froze in place, staring out into the storm. Collins’s eyes were haunted, though the rest of his face hung slack. Then his attention snapped back to Rae. “I don’t like to be unpleasant. But here we are.”

How can this be happening? Can the demons reach this far, even in dreams? How am I— The harness lurched as Collins’s knife sliced through one of the straps, knocking Rae against the mast once again. No time to think!

Rae grabbed at the surrounding rigging. His fingers slipped against the rain-slick hemp. Just then, the front edge of the storm reached them, washing over the sails and battering the nest in howling wind and driving rain. A flash of lightning turned the sky silver, followed by a roar of thunder that shook the mast. In the sudden light, Rae got a good look at Collins. The ensign acted as though he was reeling in an anchor, or cutting a sandwich; his face was as calm and pleasant as the day they met. Only his hands were bent on murdering Rae, and his voice cut through the storm.

“You’re the one they want, Raelle. Dead, I assume. Dead, and out of the loop. Whatever his plan was—” He cut another strap, and Rae’s foot came free. He pinwheeled out of the harness, his hand barely hooking into the rigging just as he was about to be flung out into the sky. Rae swung, and his other hand slapped against the railing of the stormnest, opposite Collins. He grabbed on. Collins tutted his concern. “You know, it can be dangerous up here. You really shouldn’t climb the sails alone. Especially in a storm. There’s no telling what could happen.”

The knife came down, slicing into the meat of Rae’s thumb. He howled and let go, his other hand twisting in the ropes. Collins leaned forward and sliced at him, missing by inches as Rae swung back and forth, at the mercy of the storm. A downdraft struck, forcing the windship into a steep dive. Rae’s drop suddenly reversed, and Collins was forced to grab at the railing to keep himself from flying off the nest. Rae spun on his hand, hooked a leg over the edge of the railing, and landed on the stormnest deck with a thud. He slid up against the spiritblade, still stuck in the deck. The clear edge of the sword sliced into his ribs, drawing blood. Crimson leaked into the pattern of shattered lines that ran the length of the blade, as though the spiritblade were drinking from Rae’s veins. Collins’s face twisted, and his eyes locked on the sword.

“That troublesome thorn,” he growled. “Best to pluck it out.” He lurched forward. Rae scrambled to his feet, slick hands slipped across the blade, slicing open again across the palm as he tried to find purchase on the weapon. Finally his hands came down on the hilt, and he jerked the sword out of the deck, holding it in a wary guard that drew Collins up short. The two stared at each other, Rae gasping for breath, the ensign as calm as a fishing pond, though dark currents swirled beneath his face.

Shouts from below reached them. The crew was scrambling to secure the sails, trying to keep them from tearing free in the winds. It was only a matter of time before Rae and Collins would be spotted. Rae just had to delay for a bit, and hope aid would come.

“Have to cut to the marrow of the matter, I guess. No time for accidents,” Collins said. “Maybe they’ll believe the lifebinder’s moody little pet went mad in the storm and attacked me.” Collins drew his boarding pistol and sighted it at Rae’s chest. “No matter. You’ll be dead, and the dreams will stop.”

Rae shouted and rushed forward. The pistol went off, a flash of light and muffled boom, almost lost in the driving rain. Rae winced as the bullet slapped into his shoulder. Hot lead struck his flesh. He dropped the sword, but just as the cold glass of the hilt left his hand, the world changed. The howling wind turned into a moan, and the rain that had been beating into Rae’s face dissipated into streamers of thick mist. His body shimmered in the afterimage of lightning. The world was frozen in place. The spiritblade that had cost Tren his life hung in the air, inches from Rae’s fingers. The fractures that ran the length of the blade were full of blood.

—i am always here, always watching. The wraith’s voice echoed like thunder through Rae’s skull. if you will not deal with these threats, then let me. unleash me.

Rae looked up at Collins. Through the eyes of the wraith, Rae could see that Collins’s soul was a troubled swirl of lights, tangled with patches of darkness and shot through with corruption. Something had the ensign in its grips, though not the sort of possession that spiritbinders dealt with. A disease of the soul. Collins stared at him with pit-black eyes. He dropped the pistol and drew another from his brace of three.

The wraith roared through Rae’s spirit, breaking through the ice of his flesh. Rae dropped back into the material plane with the wraith wrapped about him, his body wreathed in glowing fog and the mantle of the dead. The world came unstuck in time. The crystalline spiritblade clattered to the deck of the stormnest, the storm resumed its howling, and Collins straightened. The ensign’s face became a mask of shock. The second pistol went off as he drew it, the bullet zinging wide of Rae’s head. Coils of bright mist twisted around Rae’s arm to finally coalesce as the wraithblade in his outstretched hand. The blade shone like a splinter of the moon in the darkness.

“You had your chance,” Rae said, though his voice echoed with the wraith’s graveyard rumble, and he wasn’t sure if he was speaking, or the dead man was speaking through him. “But you can’t kill the dead!”

Collins threw the discharged pistol at Rae and scrambled for the last firearm in his brace, turning the boarding knife around in his other hand to block. Rae charged across the stormnest, his feet barely touching the wet planks as he and the wraith flew through the air. The winds whipped at him, but they didn’t seem to touch the foggy outline of his body. Collins’s eyes went wide with fear as Rae fell on him. The ensign brought his knife up to stab at Rae’s ghostly form, but Rae caught the knife with the hilt of his sword, twisting to force Collins to drop the knife. With a back-slice, Rae slashed at the ensign. The shimmering edge of the blade passed through flesh and bone without resistance, drawing tendrils of blood out as it came free. The man’s screams echoed against the clouds, cutting through even the driving rain and wind that battered the stormnest. The wraithblade felt alive in Rae’s hands. He battered the unfired pistol out of Collins’s hands, then shoved the ensign to the floor. For a brief second, Rae stood over the man, on the verge of killing him. Collins stared up at him, abject terror on his face.

—kill him. kill him and be done with it!

“No,” Rae whispered, and let the wraithblade dissolve in his grip, leaving an afterimage of the moon-bright light, hanging in the air. The wraith howled as Rae stuffed it back into his soul, silencing its fury.

Rae went to his knees, breathing hard, the air in his lungs sparkling with frost as the wraith filtered through his blood. No longer wrapped in the wraith’s protective mantle, the pain of his wounds shot through Rae’s body, and the storm fell on him with renewed fury.

“Now,” he said. “Let’s see what’s living in that head of yours.”

Reaching out with his soul, Rae plucked at the corners of Collins’s mind. The ensign’s eyes lost focus, and his body relaxed. Rae started to untangle the mess of the poor man’s soul. His awareness brushed up against something massive and distant.

“You’re too late, child!” Collins’s face contorted in pain. “This one is mine!”

With unexpected strength, the ensign threw Rae back, then stood up and leapt off the stormnest. Rae scrambled to his feet, trying to reach the man, but as he hit the railing he got a glimpse of Collins’s rigid form twisting away into the storm.

Rae closed his eyes, gripping the railing and grinding his teeth. Everytime he got close to learning more about his attacker, something went wrong. Someone died, and the trail would go cold. He felt like he was on the verge of understanding. And yet . . . 

When he opened his eyes, Rae’s gaze fell on the glass spiritblade, lying still on the deck of the stormnest. The blood it had seized now wept from the blade, forming a pool on the deck that the rain was quickly washing away. There was murder in that weapon.

Rae took the burlap sack from where it lay, sodden and cold, at the base of the mast. Using it like a glove, he carefully gathered up the spiritblade, wrapping the damp burlap tight around the blade. Spots of blood leaked into the fabric. Wearily, he slung the sack over his shoulder, then gasped in agony as the wounds screamed in protest.

The pain in his shoulder reminded Rae that he was still human. Gingerly, he pulled his shirt away from the wound. It was superficial; the wraith had yanked him into the shadowlands just as the bullet pierced his flesh. A shallow, bloody gouge seeped into his clothes. It burned, but it wasn’t dangerous. He pressed a hand against it to stop the bleeding, and looked around.

The struggle had finally drawn the attention of the crew. A dozen dark shapes scrambled up the rigging toward the stormnest. They all had knives, and a few were burdened with pistols, wrapped in oilskin to protect them from the storm.

—you can’t fight them all off, the wraith whispered. submit to me, and I will take their lives. I will free you—

“No!” Rae shouted. His would-be rescuers paused in their ascent. They’d be here soon. “It was Collins who tried to kill us, not these people. They’re innocent. I’m not going to let you kill anyone else.”

—collins was innocent. collins was our friend. do you think he was the last? what do you know about who to kill and who to spare? nothing. you’re only a child, scared and on the run! you can’t protect your sister. you couldn’t even protect your father. they’re coming for you, rae. there are murderers among them. assassins. you have to strike first.

“I won’t. I can’t.” Rae took a deep, ragged breath. The wraith was right, he knew. He couldn’t protect Lalette, any more than he was able to protect himself. Collins was one man, an assassin, somehow driven by nightmares and a sickness in his soul to attack Rae. There would be others. Maybe on the ship, maybe among the justicars chasing him. They could be anywhere. They could be everywhere.

But the demons didn’t want Lalette. They didn’t care about his sister. They wanted Rae, and the wraith bound to his soul. They always had. It was why his parents were dead, why Hammerwall had fallen, and then Anvilheim. There would be no escape.

Exhausted, Rae put one hand against the main mast, then slowly collapsed against it. Waves of rain beat across the stormnest, punctuated by flickering lightning and the constant rumble of thunder. The voices of the crew reached him. They were shouting back and forth in panic. Odd. How do they know about Collins? Shouldn’t they—

The stormnest pitched hard to port. Rae slammed against the mast, his head ringing with the impact. He grabbed on to the harness. The constant rumble of thunder swelled, vibrating through the mast, rattling the bones of the ship. Rae crawled to the edge of the ’nest and looked down.

The crew was swarming over all three of the masts, and probably on the keelmast as well, letting out the sails. Not what they should be doing in a storm such as this. Immediately, the winds grabbed the sails, twisting the Pearlescent like a leaf in an eddy.

“What the hell are they doing?” Rae shouted to the storm. The storm answered with a flash of lightning, and the roar of thunder.

Only it wasn’t thunder, Rae realized. That was the sound of timber splintering, of metal torquing, and ropes humming under the strain. It was the sound of a ship ripping itself apart.


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