Time meant nothing in the Lodge of Dagon. We couldn’t see outside, and it was always dark in the stone chamber. The only regularity was provided by the twice-daily offerings of hard bread and gruel. My beating had not been severe, and I’d weathered far worse. I did wonder how many times a woman – even Adeline Brand – could be beaten unconscious before brain damage ensued, but for now I felt little more than an insistent headache. Harriet gave me a daily update on how red and bruised my face was, and by the tenth bowl of gruel I was apparently back to normal. Though normal was certainly relative. We’d seen multiple different hybrids, and the Nether One had returned twice more. Once to assess how damaged I was, and once to remove Zorah’s body, but no schedule had been forthcoming as to when my violation would begin.
“I think there’s actually a bit of flavour in this,” said Harriet, sniffing her bowl of gruel. “Or maybe my taste buds have died.”
I prodded in my own bowl, and saw only black grains of some kind, and limp carrots, floating in the thin, brown liquid. It was all I’d eaten for days, and I felt tired and thin as a result. The bread helped, but was not enough for me to maintain any kind of strength. Nor was the cage big enough for me to exercise. And I was struggling to conjure reasons to stay sharp and combat-ready. I’d been released once, and had been just as helpless. Perhaps I should give up and accept that I would die in the Lodge of Dagon.
“You’re grumpy today,” said Harriet in her sing-song voice. “You look down at the water when you’re grumpy. You look up at the exits when you’re not. Come on, what’s our plan of escape for today?”
“No plan,” I replied. “Not today.”
“Oh, come on, grumpy-guts, I liked yesterday’s plan. We both throw our gruel in the face of the frog-man and hope he stumbles close enough for you to grab him and get the key.”
“They’re too strong,” I replied. “And we don’t know what’s in the next chamber.”
“I told you,” giggled Harriet. “The Mirralite pens are to the left, and they took Zorah to the right.”
“Hardly a detailed map of the Lodge. They brought me from the right also.” A thought occurred to me. “If the pens are to the left, why do we not hear them scream?”
“There’s a long corridor. You can hear water sloshing above. I think this place is quite big. It must stretch under the Bay of Bliss.” She sighed, looking up at the bare stone ceiling. “I miss the sky.”
“And I miss my brother,” I whispered, too quiet for her to hear.
“We can’t leave without your friend anyway. What was his name? Wispy?”
I smiled. “The Wisp. Jaxon Ice. Last I saw him, his mind was struggling to deal with the chaos spirits in the void. I fear that he’ll only have fallen further without me. They took him to the Temple, wherever that is. I don’t even know if he’s alive.”
“All the more reason not to stop our daily escape planning,” announced Harriet, her unblinking eyes showing complete trust. “How about our spoons? They’re wood, we could fashion weapons.”
I shook my head, trying to smile. “The wood’s rotten. Everything here is rotten. Except these cages.” I shook the bars and found them as unyielding as when I’d first been imprisoned. “No, we only get out of these cages if someone lets us out.”
“So, it’s trickery then,” stated Harriet, excitedly. “My speciality. You know, I’ve convinced these froggy-folk that I’m quite mad. So, what do we do? Gain their trust?”
I rubbed my eyes. The headache was moving to the front of my head and becoming sharp. Harriet’s voice was soft and did nothing to worsen my pain, but I struggled to take an active part in the conversation, preferring instead to look down at the murky water.
“Adeline Brand, are you ignoring me?”
“No,” I grunted. “Sorry … I … my head hurts. I think I should try and sleep. It’s a few hours ’til food.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” said Harriet. “Don’t you worry, we’ll have another plan tomorrow.”
I turned away from her, nestling into the corner of the cage as best I could. I had bruises and scabs from sleeping against the metal, and could only just stretch out my legs, half-submerging them in water. My leather trousers and boots had held up well, though they were not water-proof. My armour had been taken and the thick, black shirt I was left with was constantly getting wet, half-drying, then getting wet again. As least it wasn’t cold.
In the days I’d been here, I’d determined that the water level changed with the tides. This meant that the water in which we sat, though brackish and foul-smelling, was at least replaced daily by a fresh tide from the Bay of Bliss. And something in the Lodge of Dagon heated the water and kept the chamber at a constant temperature.
As my eyes closed, I heard sloshing, and groggily looked up. Two hybrids appeared from the left exit, followed by the Nether One. They walked quickly, parting the water in small waves.
“You, Sea Wolf!” stated the Pure One. “Your wounds have healed and it is now your time. May it be the first of many couplings.”
My stomach did a somersault and I suddenly felt light-headed. They had the patience to wait, and the confidence that I was completely helpless. Two hybrids was more than enough to keep me compliant before confinement had robbed me of my edge. Was there truly anything I could do? A lifetime of lessons and experience came crashing down into a single moment of helplessness. For the first time in my life, I was just a scared woman.
I could barely hear Harriet trying to talk to me as I was roughly dragged from the cage. I put up no resistance, being little more than a dead weight in their greasy, bulbous arms. The Kneeling Wolf shrieked and shook the bars of her cage, but I couldn’t hear her words. I just let them take me from the cage and drag me through the tepid water. The sound of Harriet’s indistinct shrieks slowly disappeared, to be replaced with the thunderous rumble of my heart and the slosh of water.
I was taken out of the chamber and along a corridor with a high ceiling. My legs were dragging in the water, with the hybrids carrying all of my weight. It may have been the way I was brought in, or may have been towards the breeding pens. I couldn’t be sure. My wits had left me, and the thought of escape was now as distant as Young Green Eyes or the Severed Hand.
The corridor widened, then shrank, then turned left. I heard screaming and I saw caged Mirralite, slumped against iron bars and rotten stone walls. Mostly cowering men, with a few heavily pregnant women. Water was everywhere. Some flowed in through narrow slits in the wall, to drain away down rusted gratings. Some collected in pits and holes on the floor, to be displaced by moving feet or the constant flow. Mould and moss covered everything, with sickly-white crabs scuttling through the water.
Beyond the cages, the passageway widened again. Here there were sunken pools in the stone floor, leading into deep water beneath the Lodge of Dagon, and high above, I saw the sky for the first time in days. There were two openings in the square ceiling, poking above the Bay of Bliss. It was dusk, and I could just see the last blue tinges disappear from the sky.
Before I could sigh, or say an internal goodbye to the light, I was thrown forwards, to land in a foot of water, before a half-rotten wooden door. I had not seen any other doors within the structure, and I could tell it held some special significant. There were three huge bolts, securing it closed, and its hinges were hidden behind iron facings.
The Nether One unbolted the door and turned to me. “Rejoice, Sea Wolf, for you will be the first casualty of the war. The last war your people will ever know.”
My hands shook and a sharp pain enveloped my head. As the door opened outwards, I saw a circular chamber. It was full of water, and a shard of darkening light came from an irregular hole in the ceiling. I didn’t resist as the two hybrids held my arms and legs, and flung me through the door. My head caught the door frame, causing dull pain, and I landed heavily in salty water. As I spluttered and tried to sit up, the door was slammed shut and I was alone with a bleeding forehead.
My feet didn’t touch the bottom, and I had to scramble to the sides of the chamber. There was a wide hole in the middle of the floor, leading down into black water, and I moved away from it, hugging the walls. I reached the door and banged on the wood, but heard the last bolt clank into place, and sloshing footsteps as my captors moved away from the door.
I began to panic. Blood crept into my eyes and I felt my forehead. It was a deep cut, but all I cared about was clearing my vision. The hole in the ceiling was too high to reach, the door was too solid to break, and I was too weak and too scared to fight. As the water started to churn, all I could do was cower against the door.
“To the First Fang I pledge my arm, my head and my heart,” I muttered, reciting the duellist’s oath. “To my hold I pledge my loyalty and my strength. To the Eastron from across the sea I claim brotherhood. From the Bright Lands I am come. In the Dark Lands will I prosper.”
Before I’d finished speaking, a bright red crest had poked through the water. A vile smell, metallic and salty, filled the chamber, as the Sunken Man rose from a frothy swell. It stayed waist-deep in the water, showing its swollen belly but keeping its muscled legs hidden. I was face-to-face with it, barely a few feet away, and its greasy black eyes were fixed on me. It was more fish than frog, but had the qualities of both; an elongated, slippery head, with a gummy, thick-lipped mouth. It was four times my size and naked, with a layer of slimy grease dripping from its barely humanoid body.
“Once more for the Severed Hand,” I whispered, too terrified to think.
It reached a sinewy arm towards me and I saw malevolent lust on its wide face. I was to be violated. I was to be used as a breeder. I thought about how to kill myself. How to bash my head against the door, or dive underwater until I drowned, but my limbs wouldn’t move. My mind was no longer connected to anything. It just floated in the air, waiting for the Sunken Man and some kind of pained oblivion.
I couldn’t move, but I could still see, and something caught my eye above the approaching creature. From the hole in the ceiling, I saw a face. It was a moon-faced Eastron with closely cut black hair, his head and upper body clearly visible in the dusk sky. He looked down at me and frowned, then at the Sunken Man and screwed up his face in revulsion. He’d made no sound and the creature had not seen him, nor did it see the female face that appeared on the opposite side of the hole. They were both Kneeling Wolves and had a silent conversation above me, gesturing to the creature and mouthing words of alarm.
I tried not to gasp or shout, even as the Sunken Man stretched its frog-like limbs and pulled its whole body out of the water to loom over me. It took its time, licking a pink tongue across slimy green lips, and stroking at the air between us with suckered hands.
The male Kneeling Wolf disappeared beyond the edge of the hole, and the female waved at me, mouthing hello. She then tried to convey something with her waving arms. She seemed to be saying get ready to move, but I couldn’t be sure. Then the male reappeared with a wooden bucket. He smiled and waved me away from the Sunken Man, then held his nose, as if he shared my discomfort at the smell. My limbs began to respond when the female produced a small flaming torch, and the male poured lantern oil all over the creature and the surface of the water. The Sunken Man puckered his flabby lips and looked up, as the thick black liquid flowed down his face.
“You wanna fuck?” challenged the man.
“Fuck this, you greasy bastard,” growled the woman, throwing the torch at the Sunken Man’s head.
I flung myself backwards, grabbing the wall, as the creature was enveloped in muddy fire. It started at the head and formed a crackling mantle down to the water, where it flared and pulsed on the surface. The Sunken Man flailed its arms and gargled, but the volume of its voice didn’t rise above a murmur. Its mouth was wide, but it seemed unable to generate much sound. Its tongue rolled out, to flail at the air as bubbles of melted flesh appeared and popped across its torso.
Both Kneeling Wolves produced short bows and buried red-fletched arrows in the creature’s head. They reloaded quickly and put two arrows each in and around its eyes. The Sunken Man groped at the wall, vomiting sickly-green fluid into the chamber. It slumped downwards, trying to immerse itself in water and put out the flames, but the lantern oil wouldn’t be extinguished so easily, and the creature was already half-dead.
“Out the way, love,” said the male Kneeling Wolf, hopping down into the chamber. He was short, wore ragged brown fabric and held two heavy knives, with the short bow slung at his belt. The woman followed, trailing a heavy rope-ladder behind her.
“Come on, it takes a while for them to die,” said the woman, taking me by the arm and leading me to the far side of the chamber. “The fire does for them, but always aim for the eyes. That greasy skin is tougher than it looks.”
The creature was now bent over against the wall, trying to put the fire out with its hands, but its movement were jerky and pained. The male Kneeling Wolf stood between us and the creature, holding his knives ready. When the Sunken Man finally slumped to the waterline, the man rushed in and stabbed it repeatedly in the head. Even with its body burned to a muddy black, the knives didn’t penetrate far. It took several heavy thrusts to breach its skin, after which the man stabbed its head to a pulpy mess.
“Tasha Strong,” said the woman. “This is Lucas Vane. We’re very pleased to see you.”
“I prefer Lucas Frog Killer,” said the man. “You okay, love? Must’ve given you a fright.”
I didn’t reply, and couldn’t tear my eyes from the dead Sunken Man, smouldering as a mound of charred flesh in the corner of the chamber.
“It’s okay,” said the woman, “escape is more important than talking. Come on, let’s get out of this nasty water.”
The man placed a boot on the bottom of the rope-ladder and steadied it. The woman eased me to my feet, but I fell back into the water, unable to make my legs work properly. “Can’t stand,” I muttered.
The man came to our aid, and they took an arm each, half-carrying me to the rope-ladder. “You’re in shock, love,” said Lucas Vane. “Happened to me too. First time I saw one up close.”
“He pissed himself,” offered Tasha Strong, placing my quivering hands on a smooth wooden rung of the ladder.
“I did, I pissed myself,” agreed Lucas. “Up we go now.”
I clenched my hands around the ladder and hung on.
“That’s it, one step at a time,” said Tasha, easing my left foot into place.
I panted heavily and blinked water and blood from my eyes, but I managed to coax enough life into my limbs to climb upwards. Lucas held the rope-ladder and Tasha shoved me towards the light as best she could. They muttered to each other beneath me, assessing how long until the dead Sunken Man would be discovered. They didn’t seem in a huge hurry, but once I was secure on the ladder, Tasha hopped over to the door and pressed her ear against it.
I found some strength and pulled myself to the hole in the ceiling. It was vaguely circular, with irregular edges, but was solid enough for me to grab the stone and heft myself out of the Lodge of Dagon. The darkening sky had just enough blue for me orient myself, and I looked down at a huge complex of interconnected stone structures, poking above the water. Everything was angular and square, like a spider’s web of seaweed-covered stone, floating just above the surface. The water broke over the structures, flowing down into the Lodge through holes and grating, and depositing frothy waves of seaweed and crabs over everything. I sat at a high point, within sight of the cliffs, but I couldn’t see the Mirralite village or any signs of life.
“Down to the boat, love,” said Lucas Vane, appearing out of the hole.
“What boat?” I asked, through a dry mouth.
He showed me a rope that fell down the side of the structure upon which we sat. At its other end was a small rowing boat, wedged in a corner between stone walls. “That boat. Unless you wanna swim.”
“Don’t tease her,” said Tasha, joining us in the open and pulling the ladder up after her.
Not really knowing why, I lashed out and grabbed Lucas by the throat. My strength was slowly returning, and I easily restrained him. “Don’t fucking tease me,” I growled.
He grabbed my arm, but was far weaker than me. He tried to speak, but I’d cut off his air.
“Easy,” said Tasha, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You can kill him once we’ve got out of here.”
I released him and suddenly felt terrible. The man had rescued me, and I’d threatened him. “I’m so sorry. I … don’t feel myself.”
He rubbed his neck and gave me a thin smile. “S’okay,” he grunted, before sliding down the rope towards their small boat. “To you I kneel, noble Sea Wolf.”
Tasha unfastened the rope and we followed him down. The boat lolled in the water as Lucas extended the oars and pushed us away from the Lodge. He manoeuvred us towards the cliffs, past the huge structure’s jutting stone arms.
“Rest,” said Tasha, helping me recline against barrels of lamp oil at the back of the boat. “You can tell us your name when you wake up. And if you’ve seen Zorah or Harriet.”
*
I hadn’t intended to fall asleep. Once I’d left the Lodge and regained some of my wits, I had hundreds of questions, but my body had other ideas. The gentle slosh of water eased me into an exhausted sleep, while the quiet babbling of the Kneeling Wolves provided a lullaby. I awoke briefly as we reached a gravel beach, surrounded by vertical cliffs, and the boat was pulled out of the water. I was aware that Tasha covered me with a blanket, but I was quickly back to sleep.
Then my eyes saw bright blue sky and I sat up. My head hurt, but my hands were steady and I could feel my wyrd, as if a vile fog had been lifted. I blinked, coughed, felt the throbbing cut on my forehead, and tensed my muscles. I still had some strength, and more would return.
From the gravel beach I couldn’t see the Lodge of Dagon or the Mirralite village, though the high cliffs looked familiar.
“Morning, noble Sea Wolf,” said Tasha, approaching with a earthenware plate. “Nice bit of smoked bacon, nestled lovingly between two thick slabs of soft bread. Is there truly any better way to start the day?” She passed me the plate and the smell of cooked bacon made me sigh with involuntary pleasure.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the food and shovelling it down in big mouthfuls.
The Kneeling Wolf perched on the edge of the boat and waited for me to finish eating. She then took the plate and smiled. “Do you have a name?”
I nodded. “Adeline Brand, duellist of the Severed Hand.”
“Me and Lucas didn’t know there were Sea Wolves here. We were looking for our mates when we heard a door slam. Your door. It looked like … well, I assume the frog had unpleasant intentions.”
I wiped bacon grease from my chin and stood up. My legs were stiff and my back delivered a lance of sharp pain, but physically I felt far better than I had in days.
“They wanted to mate a Sunken Man with an Eastron, to produce offspring. They tried with one of your friends. I’m sorry, but Zorah is dead.”
Lucas Vane appeared from the mouth of a shallow cave and stared at me. “Dead? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure she’s sure,” said Tasha, her face dropping into a frown of grief. “And Harriet Mud? Did you see her?”
“I did. She helped keep me sane. Alive when last I saw her. She has the withering and they won’t use her as a breeder. I don’t know what they intend for her. A friend of mine is in there also. He was taken to the Temple.”
Lucas began to cry and the two Kneeling Wolves met in an emotional embrace. They wore rough-spun woollen clothing and no armour, though their boots were heavy, steel-shod leather, rising to an ornate buckle at the shin.
“We can’t leave without them,” I said, a note of calm authority returning to my voice. “You must have some idea about this place by now. The ways in and out. And why have they not pursued us?”
They finished their embrace and Tasha motioned for me to follow them. “More comfortable in the cave. We have a fire and some supplies.”
They led me within, where two bedrolls were arranged around a small campfire. Sacks of food, blades and arrows showed that the group had travelled light, and the placement of their camp showed that they were far from careless.
“They won’t follow,” said Lucas. “But it’s safer out of the open.” He sat down and offered me a bottle of liquor. “And there’s rum in here, love.”
“Why don’t they follow?” I asked, swigging from the offered bottle.
Lucas smiled, seemingly impressed at the size of my swig. “No idea, but they don’t have a sense of urgency. It’s like we’re no threat to them.”
“It’s true,” offered Tasha, placing more bacon in a small frying pan. “We must have seen half a dozen of the frogs, and given them every reason to chase us. But we get a distance away and it’s like they get bored. When we return, they act as if it’s the first time they’ve seen us.”
Tasha made three more bacon sandwiches and we ate between shared gulps of rum. For the first time, I assessed the two Kneeling Wolf duellists who’d saved my life. Lucas was late twenties, around my age. Tasha was a little older, with sharp worry lines at her temples. Neither was much over five feet tall, though they both had a solid build and an elegant way of moving. Whatever training they’d received at Four Claw’s Folly, it gave them the appearance of seasoned duellists.
“I told Harriet that you should have come to the Severed Hand first. If you knew what was here we could have come with a larger force.”
Lucas was wolfing down his sandwich and spoke through a full mouth. “We didn’t know.”
“We suspected,” added Tasha. “Isaiah Leaf just wanted confirmation. It took a long time, following clues, before we even knew to come to the Bay of Bliss. Sorry we didn’t come to you first.”
I showed a genuine smile for the first time since before Arthur died. “You saved my life. There is little you will ever need to apologize for.”
“To you we kneel,” said Tasha, returning my smile.
I took a few deep breaths and tried to relax, pushing thoughts of Jaxon and my brother to the back of my mind. If I was to survive, if I was to rescue my friend and avenge my brother, I would need a mind at rest. If I was to return to the Severed Hand and warn the First Fang, I would need to stay alive. I rubbed my eyes and struggled to keep my thoughts in order. “There’s a lot to consider,” I grumbled. Looking out of the cave, I blinked at the bright blue sky. “Where are we? Exactly?”
“Down the eastern coast,” replied Tasha. “Once you leave that freaky village, the rest of the Pure Ones just fight or run away. They’re as scared of the Sunken Village as we are.”
“I am not afraid,” I growled, more out of habit than truth. “So they don’t range far from The Place Where We Hear The Sea? That gives us an advantage.”
Lucas finished his sandwich and wiped his chin. “Sorry to be blunt, sweetheart, but what do you expect us to do with that advantage?”
“Don’t be rude, Frog Killer,” chided Tasha. “I think what he means is that we were rather lucky to find you. We were searching for Zorah and Harriet and heard a door slam. Unless you know the layout of that place …”
I looked down at the fire and tried to remember the Lodge of Dagon. I was carried in along a square tunnel; I met the Nether One in a large square chamber; I was imprisoned in a smaller square chamber; and I was carried out through more square chambers. I didn’t know anything useful about the place. “Do you know where the Temple is?” I asked, trying to focus on Jaxon.
“Aye, we do,” replied Lucas, sharing a worried glance with Tasha. “It’s the big box-thing in the bay. The one you can see from the village.”
“Why would they take him there?” I asked. “And is there a way in?”
Tasha, eating her sandwich with more delicacy than Lucas or me, politely coughed. “There are narrow slits in the roof,” she said. “You can see in when they light the torches inside.”
“And?” I prompted.
“Varn,” said Lucas, draining the bottle of rum. “Lots of them. Doing unnatural things. You ever seen a chaos spirit?”
I shuddered, remembering the whirling miasma of flesh and teeth that had consumed Arthur. “I have. The void there is full of them. More than I could count.”
“They’re summoning them,” he replied. “Have been for years it looks like. Thousands upon thousands of them.”
“We only glimpsed,” said Tasha. “Just a glimpse through the glass, on top of the square building in the bay. And we didn’t glimpse again. It was when we first got here, a few weeks ago, before Hector died and we lost Harriet and Zorah.”
“Show me,” I said, looking around for a suitable blade amongst their supplies. “If that’s where they took Jaxon, that’s where we’ll go.”
The Kneeling Wolves looked at each other as if they would follow me, but only reluctantly. They both showed awareness, and I wasn’t so arrogant as to ignore their counsel, but I couldn’t conceive of retreat without first trying to rescue Jaxon Ice.
“Before you advise me against it,” I said, gently, “remember that you yourselves were trying to rescue your friends when you happened upon me.”
Lucas smoothed crumbs from his lap and looked at me. He didn’t share his companion’s smile and appeared unsure how to speak to me. “Sorry, love,” he muttered. “I suppose we’ve been over this a hundred times since we came here. Tasha and me have talked and talked and talked about what to do. Then we find you … and suddenly we have more things to talk about. Just when we’d decided to stop talking. We heard your door slam as we said our goodbyes. We were gonna have a final look for our friends, then head for Four Claw’s Folly and warn the Friend of what we’d seen.”
Tasha smiled warmly, the worry lines at her temples curving into an expression of trust. “We’ll show you what you want to see, noble Sea Wolf, but you did ask another question – why would they take him there?”
“And the answer?” I prompted.
“In the Temple we saw them feeding Pure Ones to the chaos spirits,” said Lucas. “It was enough knowledge to take back home. As we left, we got careless and they ambushed us on the shore.”
“How is that possible?” I exclaimed. “Pure Ones can’t step beyond the glass.”
They exchanged another look. “You’ll need to see for yourself,” said Tasha.