Sigquaya

  “By the movement of the water, I’m not sure it goes far, but we could at least see what’s up there,” Telluras added.

  Marshaan thought for a few moments, eyeing each of the passages and weighing the pros and cons of either side.

  He gestured with a tilt of his head to the left-hand cave. “I seriously doubt that this one leads to the Hæðn. I don’t remember ever being in a calm, flaccid area like that. It seemed all swift movement to me.”

  I had to agree. The water here looked too still to carry anyone along.

  “We could find out soon enough,” Telluras said. “I’ll stay here if you two want to check it out. If anything happens from this other side, I’ll be here to help”—he shrugged—“I suppose.”

  Marshaan looked at me. “Caden?”

  “We could go a little ways up,” I said. “Just to see if the water picks up again, or if it dries out altogether.”

  Marshaan nodded and handed his torch to Telluras. “We’ll be back shortly,” he said. “One way or the other. Either it’s the way to go, or it’s not; we’ll know soon enough.” He gestured to me. “Lead on.”

  As we entered the passage, the water was barely at our shoulders, and the further we went away from the Y, the less water there seemed to be—from our shoulders to our chest, down our bellies, our thighs, and then barely calf deep. Ironically, the less water there was, the more swift it seemed to move and in the opposite direction to us, of course, as we were clearly walking on a slight upward angle.

  “This is getting us nowhere,” Marshaan grumbled after a few minutes as he stopped to check how far we’d come. “It’s a waste of time.”

  We could no longer see where we’d left Telluras, and could no longer hear the rush of the Waters through the burbling of the little stream at our feet. Progress was slow, so to take Marshaan’s mind off his incessant urgency, I asked, “Whatever happened to Daina’s family? You were going to tell me years ago.”

  “Hmm, and I haven’t yet?” he asked.

  “No, not yet.”

  “Hmm. Must be a reason for that.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Marshaan. It seems to really affect her whenever I get too near the subject. It has something to do with her fear of water, doesn’t it?”

  “That it does.”

  “So, tell me.”

  “It’s a difficult memory for her,” Marshaan said. “And she’s never given it up easily. I’m actually not surprised she’s never told you. It’s not that it’s a secret so much as it’s just hard for her, I suppose.”

  He took a moment, and I began to think that that was all the history I was going to get. Then, he continued. “Daina was a few years younger than you are now, just on the cusp of deciding her place in the community. Her parents, the ones who had taken her in, were Watchers, the both of them. And, from all accounts, they were very good ones. It was in the spring, and they had drawn watch together. From what I have heard, as the young one came along, they were not able to seize the child, and she began to float away through the other corridor.”

  “‘She?”

  “Well, no one knows for sure, but as I said, it was spring. It has always been assumed the child was a girl. Don’t interrupt. I shouldn’t be telling you this, anyway.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “From what everyone reckons,” he said, “one of Daina’s parents must have dove in to try and rescue the child, and when they couldn’t or didn’t return, the other must have gone in as well. All we know for sure is that when it came time for the changing of the Watchers, Estemere was empty. They were never seen again.”

  “That must have been devastating.”

  “She took it very hard, yes. That’s when I first started being there for her. She was just another girl in the community before that, but afterward, she became family.”

  “You couldn’t have been much older than she was, though?”

  “Not much, no.”

  “Were you still living with your parents?” I asked. “I mean, did you and your family take her in?”

  “I was, and no. Not that we didn’t ask. Insist, even. But, Daina refused. There were plenty of people willing to be hospitable toward her. Visiting her. Checking in. Leaving her meals and such. All received grudgingly but gratefully. She was stubborn, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew the community grieved as well, and any well-wishing or benevolence on their part was just as much a healing gesture for them as it was for her. The community of Cierra cares for its own, and she knew that. And ultimately, for the most part, she healed.

  “Now, she passes it on,” he added. “As I said, she was on the cusp of deciding her place in the Cierran community. For some reason, known only to her, she chose to be a Watcher. I was just beginning the training myself. I don’t know if I had any sway in her decision, but I vowed to myself that I would keep an eye on her, no matter what she chose.” He turned with a sweep of his hand in my direction. “And look what she ended up doing. You and Rahn seemed to have turned out fairly well.”

  “Yeah.” I had to agree, with a laugh. “It’s definitely been all her.” Then, another question struck me. “Did she have her aversion to water before all this happened?”

  “Well, we all do to a certain extent,” Marshaan said. “You know that. But, no, her fear wasn’t anywhere near where it is today. That was all a result of what happened to her parents, I suspect.”

  “Then why in all the gods would she choose to be a Watcher?”

  Marshaan shrugged. “She has her reasons. But her parents were both Watchers. I am a Watcher. Maybe she feels she owes them. Or maybe she is paying tribute to them in her own way, keeping their legacy alive and all that.”

  “Has she ever been in the Waters? I mean, as a Watcher, she probably had to have been, right?”

  Marshaan smiled. “No, she hasn’t. She’s got strengths in many areas, Daina does. Her empathy mostly, and the ease with which she can aid the transition of those we rescue. I would like to believe that if she truly needed to get into the Waters, she would. But, for now”—he shrugged—“that’s what I’m there for.”

  I laughed again. “You really care for her, don’t you?”

  “Only as much as she cares for you and Rahn.”

  I turned and gave a little, private smirk at that, not really buying his answer, but I walked on in silence, thankful that Marshaan had told me. It answered a lot of questions about my guardian.

  Then my thoughts were interrupted as I spied something curious just ahead. I continued on a couple more paces then held my torch out in front of me, further up the passageway. It almost looked like there was an opening up ahead.

  “What’s this?” I asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, I took a couple more steps and held the torch high. The water was down to my ankles at this point, but the rush of water and the slick rocks didn’t make the walking any easier. Even so, I could hear what sounded like a steady stream of water, like the pouring of a pump faucet, just ahead.

  “What do you see?” Marshaan asked from behind me.

  “It looks like there’s an opening up here—a widening out or a cavern of some sort. I can hear water falling. Let me check it out.”

  “All right,” he said. “But no further. We need to get back and keep going up the Waters if we’re going to find out anything at all.”

  A few more careful steps and, sure enough, I emerged into a narrow, tall cavern. I held my torch high, just as Marshaan joined me. There, above us, well out of reach without a bit of a climb, was a wide, round opening. A thin stream of water spilled out of it, tumbling onto the rocks below.

  Marshaan couldn’t suppress his laugh. “Looks like we’ve found your waterfall, Caden.”

  I smiled, shaking my head. “Seemed a little bigger when I was here last.”

  “Ehh, you were smaller then, so maybe,” he said through his chuckling.

  Something nagged at me, though. Something just felt . . . right.

  “I want to take a look at it,” I said.


  “What, the cave up there? Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why, in Ahredai’s name, would you want to do that? What’s the point? This isn’t it, Caden. Clearly.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. But still.”

  His humor turned to fuming. “You’re wasting time.”

  I turned to him; the torchlight sent dancing shadows all around us.

  “Am I?” I said in all seriousness. I looked up at the opening. “I don’t know, Marshaan. Maybe it’s just a feeling but, for some reason, this seems right to me. Yes, it’s just a trickle. But you said yourself, you and Peata, that the water level of the river has been dropping little by little over the years. What if this is, or was, the passage I’d gone through, only now the Waters have changed course and now flow from that other arm of the Y back there?”

  “Then we should be there,” he answered.

  I handed him the torch and started to climb. “But there might be passage here. I just want to take a look.”

  “Dammit, Caden, we don’t have time for this. This. Isn’t. It.”

  I was already a good halfway up when I said over my shoulder, “Then I’ll know soon enough, won’t I?”

  Brynewielm was awake again. Irritated again. That feeling was back, like spiders crawling down the ridges of his back. He normally didn’t care about the human sacrifices anymore and didn’t even bother to wake for them, but this was different. It was a grating feeling, like an infestation, yes, but this time within the rocks and passages of his home. His home. And under his skin. Humans. Several of them.

  Now he couldn’t go back to sleep. Annoyance and anger played at the fore of his mind, along with a hint of curiosity. It was one thing to have the small and helpless ones tossed aside by groups of those two-legged roaches into his Waters, sloshed about, dashed against the rocks, or carried downstream to be hauled out by other roaches. It was entirely another to have them invading his privacy, soiling his passages, and plaguing his streams.

  What to do? What to do?

  It had been eons since he had last made his presence known.

  Then, they had written books about him—Legends and entire religions based on placating the God of Fire and Harvest.

  Now?

  He chuffed out a scathing laugh, which sounded more like a cross between a growl and a belch.

  Well . . .

  Now maybe it was time for the gods to rise again.

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Following the faint torchlight in front of her, Rhiana rounded the last bend and on to the gentle slope of passage with the Gildrom cavern ahead of her. Once there, she saw that the Gildrom was fully lit and a shadow was moving within.

  It has to be the Elder.

  She could hear him mumbling something, rhythmic and repetitive. It sounded like a chant. She risked edging forward.

  She was within a few yards of the cavern when the Elder passed in front of the opening. Rhiana froze, plastering herself against the cold stone wall, afraid to even breathe. The Elder paused and his shadow blazed across her, darkening the cavern opening. He breathed deeply. Once. Twice. Then, he moved to the other side without looking up and resumed his chanting.

  Rhiana slipped to the other side of the passage as well, the same side as the Elder, and inched closer. She made her way to the cavern entrance, still draped in shadows. Slowly she stuck her head out. Torchlight bathed her face as she risked just far enough to see the mouth of the pool. It still looked dark and empty. Still, a shiver ran over her, and gooseflesh raised on her arms.

  The Elder came back into view and she eased back, watching him. He moved behind the Gildrom pool, walking slowly and pacing in rhythm to his mumbled chanting. She could see that his eyes were closed, and she could clearly hear his song now—words she didn’t understand in a language she’d never heard. It gave her a tingling sensation in her lower back, which she put down to nerves and fear. He made another full circle, and then Rhiana could hear something else: the faint, hollow splash of water. It was coming from the pool.

  The Elder stopped his pacing at the far side of the pool’s edge, facing it now and facing Rhiana, eyes still closed, raising his thin arms as his chanting grew louder. The tingling at her spine grew, engulfing her now, wrapping itself around her arms and her legs, and pounding her skull in rhythm to her heartbeat. The splashing and gurgling grew louder along with him, and she saw the first drops of agitated water from the waves of the pool as it inched up.

  Was this Sigquaya?

  If it was, it was like nothing Rhiana had ever seen before.

  How was he doing this? The water was rising now just a few feet below the edge.

  This was a power beyond anything that she’d even seen her mother do. This was new, and it was terrifying. Her hands burned like fire, and her head throbbed.

  “Rhiana Denaeus,” the Elder said, his face still down and eyes still closed.

  Rhiana froze as he looked up. All feeling left her. Her hands stilled and her headache subsided, as if all was suspended in time by the utterance of those two words.

  “It’s so good of you to join me.”

  His voice was welcoming, but when he opened his eyes, they blazed with malice. He gestured to his side, at the pool’s edge. “Come. Join me here. I have something to show you. Something I am sure you have been interested in for some time now.”

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  I climbed with ease up the wall, using mostly dry rock handholds beside the little waterfall. When I was parallel with the opening, I shimmied sideways and dropped inside. I was surprised at how large the cave was. I was stooped, almost bent in half, but I was able to stand. I turned back to Marshaan. “Can you throw me the torch for a minute?”

  He grimaced and growled but then did as I asked, throwing it up, straight and true, and I caught it easily.

  I turned back and aimed it down the cave. There was really nothing there—just a steady stream of water sloshing over my feet, and empty blackness that disappeared into the distance.

  Hunched over, I waddled maybe a hundred feet or more, and could see nothing other than what I had seen before.

  I blew out a ragged sigh. Maybe Marshaan was right. He probably was.

  This wasn’t what we were looking for, despite my gut feeling. Even so, it was still there, my nagging intuition that this was the right way. But, like Marshaan had been saying, there was nothing here. Reluctantly I turned back.

  “OH, GREAT MOTHER OF SH—!!” I screamed. “What the hell are you doing?!!”

  It was Marshaan. Less than ten feet from me and bent completely over, he filled the entire cave with his girth and grinned like a maniac.

  “Thought I’d take a look, too,” he said innocently.

  “How did you climb up here without me hearing?”

  “Like we told you and Rahn on the blackberry path: you’re loud.”

  “I’m not—” I stopped. Now I did hear something.

  “What?” Marshaan asked. “What is it?”

  I held up a finger. “Listen.”

  He did.

  It was there, just above the babbling at our feet. A roar of rushing water. Not coming from where we’d been—at the Waters—but ahead of us. From the darkness.

  “Is that—”

  “Water,” I said. “Yes. A lot, by the sound of it.”

  “Where?”

  I listened again. “From this way. In front of us. Could it be the Waters? Just, I don’t know, further up?”

  Was I right that the Waters may have been diverted in the few years since I’d been sacrificed? And . . . was it growing louder?

  Marshaan could hear it now, and he voiced my fear. “Does it sound like it’s getting louder?”

  I listened again. It was.

  I looked down. The water that was just covering our feet a moment ago was now at our ankles. And moving faster. Rising still, as the sound from ahead of us continued to grow.

  I looked back the way we’d come. I was suddenly terrified.
Adrenaline had kicked in, and I wasn’t totally sure why.

  The water was at our knees now.

  My head whipped from the sound before us to the opening behind us. All I knew was that back was the way to go. Now! And yet I also knew that all we could manage in this cramped space, especially Marshaan, was a fast waddle. We were still a good hundred feet or more from the cavern.

  The water was almost to my thighs now, and the sound was deafening.

  “RUN!!” I yelled.

  Marshaan turned on all fours and scooted down toward the opening. I was right behind.

  “MARSHAAN, I—” The water hit my back like an avalanche, sweeping me off my feet and right into Marshaan.

  We were in it now. Grabbing for one another. Grabbing for anything. Under the water. Rolling and tumbling. Scraping the sides, the bottom. Horrid memories came flooding back. The Gildrom. The chains. The helplessness. The drowning. I struggled to see, to breathe, to stop.

  We shot through the opening like a water cannon. Rolling through the air, the water, the spray. Fighting for a handhold. Fighting for air.

  I hit the ground again, and what little air I’d managed to take in was knocked out of me with a grunt. I slid down the other cave, carried along by this sudden flash flood toward the Y, where the unaware Telluras waited for us.

  I no longer had any idea where Marshaan was, ahead or behind me. I had no idea where I was. The water was too fast. Our torch was long gone. We were in utter darkness, and I couldn’t stop tumbling. Everything hurt. My fingers and feet were scraped raw and my back bruised. It was all I could do to keep my head tucked to my chest so I didn’t get knocked out.

  That’s when I was spat out of the opening at the Y and a strong, iron grip grabbed my arm.

  It was Marshaan, grimacing, wide-eyed and soaked.

  I managed to look up at him. He was holding onto me with one hand and onto Telluras with the other. Water sprayed over us in a raging torrent. Telluras stood on some sort of small ledge he’d found in between the two arms of the Y. He was straining with the effort, but he was holding us with one hand and somehow holding our last, lone torch with the other. His back was wedged against the wall between the two arms of the river, his legs straining with the effort.