“How are we going to get back?” Emmeric asked, his heart picking up its pace.
“Not my problem.” Roq shrugged and busied himself with a length of rope. “But I expect that boat returned in the condition I gave it to you.”
Emmeric turned to the rest of the group as they arrived on the deck. “Captain Roq here says we need to row the rest of the way in, and he’s not waiting for us.”
Iyana’s eyes widened. She turned to Altair. “How are we getting out of the Dead Lands, then?”
“We’ll figure something out,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t fret, my star.”
Roq helped them lower the rowboat into the water, and they all climbed down. “The Dead Lands be that way,” Roq said, pointing off to his left. “Gods be with you.” Emmeric swore the gnarled captain almost looked concerned for them.
They took turns rowing, the haunted wasteland creeping closer inch by inch. It still was several hours of hard labor; Roq undoubtedly did not want to be anywhere near the vicinity of the cursed land. Tensions ran high, and all five of them becamequieter and stiffer as they approached. The sky steadily turned from the gray they’d been under for almost a week to a brown haze, blotting out the sun. Their little boat drifted ashore on eerily calm waters, as though even the waves wouldn’t dare crash into this place.
Stepping onto the shore, Emmeric took in his surroundings. Muted tones of brown stretched as far as the eye could see—from the cracked dirt that made up the entire ground, to the spindly dead trees and shrubs, up to the sky. There was no wind, no smell. All was still. The normal sounds of life humans expected to hear—birds chirping, leaves rustling in the wind, the babbling of a creek—were all conspicuously absent. Even the water lapping onto the dead ground was silent. There were no signs of life anywhere.
“Love what they’ve done with the place,” Kaz said with her hands on her hips, taking in the view. Emmeric almost winced at the sudden noise within the silence. Iyana had her arms wrapped around herself like they could ward herself from the sinister quality of the Dead Lands.
“It wasn’t always this way,” Altair said softly. It seemed even the star felt ill at ease.
“What happened?” Iyana asked.
“When the gods were still awake, this land thrived. It was known as Katran, and its last ruler was King Percival. Percival had a daughter, Adete, and it was said she was the most beautiful woman in all of Arinem—perhaps even the world. She had many suitors but turned them all down. They weren’t handsome enough, or rich enough, or skilled enough with a sword. Percival let his beloved daughter have her say in marriage and promised he would never force her to marry a man she didn’t want.
“One day, a large man swaggered into King Percival’s castle, a broadsword strapped to his back, and demanded Adete’s hand in marriage. Percival informed him no man could make such a demand, and the choice was his daughter’s. The stranger immediately caught her attention—his appearance, his confidence. But she didn’t want to appear too eager, so she devised a set of tasks, and if he completed all three, she would marry him. He accepted the challenge. His first task was to hunt down the umbraserpent—an oversized, burnt orange snake with fangs longer than a man is tall, dripping with venom—which was terrorizing their outer villages. It would kill the men and kidnap the women, bringing them back to its lair. None ofthe women were seen again. The stranger hauled in the head of the umbraserpent only one day later, all the missing women filing into the castle behind him. Now, Adete was ready to forget the other tasks and marry the man right then, but her father was suspicious. They’d sent multiple knights, some of their best, to defeat the serpent, and the beast had slaughtered them all. He encouraged his daughter to assign the man two more tasks.
“His second task was to retrieve an ancient sword that had been sitting at the bottom of a deep lake for centuries. It was rumored the blade had been forged by Arjun, God of Light, and its wielder would be undefeatable in battle. The stranger dove into the icy depths, completely naked. After five minutes had elapsed, they believed him to be dead. Adete’s disappointment grew with each minute, as she felt she would not find another husband worthy of her beauty. But as they left the edge of the lake, the man broke through the surface with the sword in hand. He refused to explain how he had accomplished the task. Again, Adete wanted to marry him as soon as he sauntered out of the lake, but again Percival’s suspicions were raised, and he asked her to give him the final task.
“Percival believed the last task to be impossible. You see, his beloved wife had passed away five years before and he had never moved on from her death. The stranger was to enter the Everlands and restore the queen to the mortal world. He was gone for three days and three nights. Adete grieved the man’s loss while Percival congratulated himself on a well-executed plan. But then the stranger returned with Percival’s wife, the poor woman scared and confused after being dead for multiple years. The mortal world was too chaotic for a soul now accustomed to the peace of the Everlands. Percival quickly shuttled his wife into a quiet room and admitted the man had completed all three tasks. Because he was a man of his word, he gave his blessing for the marriage. Percival asked for the name of his soon to be son-in-law. ‘My name is Otho, God of Victory,’ he said, ‘and I will be taking Adete now to live within my kingdom. Say your goodbyes.’ Now this was something Percival could not abide. He’d heard of Otho’s reputation with women and knew his daughter would not be safe with the god, nor would he be faithful to her. He refused the match, spiriting Adete away and locking her in a tower warded against Otho.
“Otho, being the God of Victory, would not let the slight stand. He ran to his family for aid—his twin sister, Thelena, and his father, Phaedros. Otho and Thelenarazed the entire kingdom of Katran. Every town, building, and every man, woman, and child. Otho tortured Percival by making him watch the destruction of his kingdom, and as Thelena plucked Adete from the tower. Otho promised Percival eternal torment by sending him directly into Phaedros’ pit, forcing him to observe as he mistreated his daughter forever. Phaedros then cursed the land so that any who died here were unable to cross over into either the Everlands or the Nine Hells; instead transforming them into something horrendous, forced to wander the now Dead Lands eternally starving and never knowing peace.”
A high-pitched screech sounded off in the distance, startling them all out of Altair’s story.
“What was that?” Talon asked.
“Wailers,” Altair answered. “The poor souls bound to wander here. They’re starving, and desperate for any source of food.” He looked at each of them, a warning lacing his tone. “The curse still holds. Any who die here transform into a wailer. So do your best to stay alive.”
With that comforting advice, the team ventured into the Dead Lands.
Chapter 46
The Prince
He drifted in and out of a drug-filled haze, not knowing where or who he was. There was something important he needed to remember. Someone. But he couldn’t even remember his own name. At some point, he felt the rise and fall of being on a ship, but there was no reason he could think of for him to be on the water. Soon, the sensation passed as the drugs dragged him under. Maybe he would drown here.
There was pain.
So much pain he longed for the drugs they dosed him with. He would have begged for them if his voice worked and his mouth didn’t feel full of sand. They were his only reprieve from the torture.
Sleep. Sleep was all he wanted. There were times he prayed for death to take him. He’d call out to Altea to deliver him swiftly to the afterlife.
A flash of red would pass through his addled mind.
And that was enough for him to fight just a little longer.
In and out. Up and down.
Pain, pain, pain.
