Blood Storm: The Books of Blood and Iron Read online

  “No!” Danr shouted in horror.

  Aisa ducked, but the squid threw a second rock in quick succession. Time slowed. The rock spun lazily through the air. Even though he was too far away, Danr reached for it. It cracked the side of Aisa’s head and she went down.

  Danr’s world went red. Rage swept him into a bloody storm, and a roar burst from his chest. The muscles on his arms bulged with new strength. He tore the tentacles away from his body. One of them he ripped in two, and cold ichor gushed over him. With another roar, he grabbed the other tentacle and heaved. The surprised squid slid forward several yards from its lair at the back of the tunnel. It focused all its attention on Danr now, trying to brace itself with some of its tentacles and whipping at Danr with the others. Danr barely noticed. This thing had injured Aisa. This thing would pay. He pulled and pulled. The squid, wriggling and writhing all the way, skidded across the rocky tunnel toward Danr with dreadful inevitability. Its beak snapped and its cold eyes stared. Danr wrapped a squirmy tentacle around his free arm and reached for the squid’s head. How many people had this thing eaten? How many fishermen had it devoured? And it had hurt Aisa.

  The beak snapped and caught Danr’s fist, but it couldn’t close entirely. Danr’s fist was too large. Terrible pressure crushed his hand. The pain broke through the bloody rage, but only for a moment. Grimly, Danr shoved forward. He thrust his hand, his arm, his shoulder straight down the squid’s throat. It made a gurgling sound. With his other hand, Danr let the tentacle go and punched straight through one of the cold eyes. It burst in an explosion of jelly.

  Danr braced himself and yanked. Both his arms came free, tearing a large part of the squid’s head with it. A huge chunk of smelly flesh came free with an awful ripping noise. The squid went into convulsions. Its remaining tentacles lashed in random directions, slamming against the walls and ceiling. The tunnel trembled. Rocks fell from above.

  “Hamzu!” A hand touched his arm. Danr whirled, expecting another attack, but it was Aisa. Blood ran down the side of her face, but she looked otherwise fine. Relief drained his rage, and the strength left him. The cave trembled beneath his bare feet. “We do not want to be here!”

  “Are you all right?” He reached out to touch her face.

  Aisa closed her eyes for a small moment beneath his hand, then took his wrist. “Sweet as you are, we should save this for when there is less danger. As one example: squid!”

  Danr spun. The squid was still convulsing, and it was bringing the tunnel down. A stalactite smashed to the floor near them like a giant’s leg. Kalessa was getting to her feet, knife in hand, and hauling Ranadar up. But they couldn’t leave. Not yet.

  “Kalessa!” Danr shouted. “Your blade! Ranadar, get Talfi!”

  Kalessa tossed her knife across the cave. Danr snatched it out of the air and used it to slice through flesh and gristle until he found the black bladder that made up the ink sac. In seconds, he slashed it free, and with another stroke cut the squid’s beak away. The squid convulsed once more and died.

  “Now!” Aisa said. “We have to leave now.”

  The tunnel was trembling, and almost entirely dark. The rising tide had nearly filled the exit. Cool seawater was knee deep in the cave. More rocks tumbled from above and splashed into the tide. Kalessa and Ranadar had Talfi’s dead arms around their shoulders and were dragging him toward deeper water.

  “For you.” Danr thrust the sac and beak into Aisa’s hands.

  “Hmm. Most men give flowers,” Aisa remarked.

  “You’re glad I’m not most men, admit it.” He waded over to Ranadar and easily hauled Talfi over his own shoulder. The young man hung there like a warm rag doll. The water was waist high now. Danr flinched away from another falling boulder that exploded into the water only a pace away. At least the sea was washing off the smelly ichor, though Danr hoped the stuff wouldn’t attract sharks. He waded fast for the tunnel mouth with the others in his wake.

  “Ranadar, can you Twist us out yet?” Kalessa demanded.

  “Not enough power,” Ranadar muttered. “Will Talfi be all right?”

  “He is dead,” Aisa said. “What do you think? I will have some choice words for Death after this.”

  The others were swimming now. Danr was up to his neck, grimly trying to keep Talfi’s head above water, more out of habit than necessity. The tunnel mouth and dim daylight were only a few yards away, but the exit was now submerged, and a current pushed against Danr’s body. It wasn’t going to be easy, especially carrying Talfi. Danr wasn’t a skilled swimmer, and already Talfi was starting to drag him down.

  “We’ll have to swim underneath,” he said. “It’s only about ten feet, but the current’s stiff.”

  “Do not think,” Kalessa advised. She had the beak now, along with her knife. “Just do.” And she dove.

  The tunnel rumbled again. Ranadar breathed deeply and dove. Aisa clasped Danr’s hand in the darkening cave, though his trollish eyes saw her lovely face perfectly well. It was a face he had only recently come to know. When they first met, she had hidden herself behind rags and scarves. Over time, she had come out of hiding, but the novelty of her beauty, like a new-risen star, hadn’t worn off. Her deep brown eyes and tan skin and arched eyebrows and lovely mouth made his heart swell, and he wanted to touch her face, even here, with the cave coming down around them.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said quietly.

  “There are no mermaids this close to the city,” she replied. “And not at this time of year. I will see none.”

  “But you’re still hoping.”

  “You worry about the wrong thing, my strong one,” she said, still clutching the ink sac. “Bring Talfi home.” And she dove as well.

  The sea rose farther and Danr’s feet left the floor. Above him, the ceiling splintered with earsplitting cracks. Danr shifted Talfi across his shoulder, took several deep breaths, and dove. Rocks thundered into the water behind him, but he swam and swam through the soft light. Hard stone hemmed him in overhead. The current tried to push him back, but he used all his troll’s strength against it. Ahead was brightness. His lungs were bursting within his chest and Talfi’s body grew heavier. Blood pounded in his ears. Oh, he wanted air. Just one breath. The water was a great hand, shoving and pressing, trying to hold him down. He could let Talfi go and make it easily. Then he felt ashamed that the thought crossed his mind. He cleared the tunnel, and the light grew brighter. Danr kicked upward hard, and suddenly he broke the surface. Sweet air filled his lungs. He hung there, just breathing, while his dark hair plastered his skull.

  The golden sun burned bright overhead, drilling his eyes and giving him an instant headache, the downside of being part troll. He treaded water with Talfi over his shoulder. He was at the base of a low cliff. Away to his right, the rocks went off into the ocean, but to his left the cliff came abruptly down to a sandy beach. The water swirled and vibrated—the last of the tunnel collapsing. Vik’s balls, he’d gotten out just in time. Talfi had damn well better appreciate this.

  Danr swam alongside the cliff toward the beach. The ocean was shallow here, and it didn’t take him long. Aisa, Kalessa, and Ranadar were waiting for him, and they helped drag Talfi across the damp sand until he was above the tide line. Talfi’s tongue protruded, and his head lolled at an angle that turned Danr’s stomach. They all flopped down on the beach.

  “My Talashka,” Ranadar said sadly, stroking Talfi’s slack face. Ranadar was handsome, even for an elf. His cheekbones were sharp enough to strike flint on, and his emerald eyes gave quick contrast to his sunset hair. He avoided the usual overly embroidered robes and vestments other elves wore in favor of rough silk in forest brown and green. Talfi was no slouch, either. Even soaking wet and … well, dead, his brown hair and fair skin and molded face created a handsome picture. Kalessa was striking, in her own way, with her lithe build and alien skin and hair. Danr felt the odd one out—tall and blocky, with shovel hands and coarse black hair and a jaw that jutted pugnaciousl
y forward. Aisa said his eyes—brown—were deep and rich and that she could fall into them, but Danr always felt a pang of jealousy at Aisa’s beauty, Kalessa’s exoticism, Ranadar’s sharp features, and Talfi’s fine ones. It came of being a half-blood, caught between races, and there were times he hated it.

  “He still looks dead. This is disappointing.” Aisa dropped the ink sac on the damp sand with a flopping noise. She wore a loose-fitting red tunic and trousers instead of a dress, done in the style of her homeland across the Iron Sea to the west. Although she bared her face these days, she usually wore a hood or scarf over her hair. Right now everything was sticking to her, and Danr forced himself not to stare at the outlines of her body, though he still peeked. She caught him, and shook a mock finger at him.

  “Never mind Talfi,” Danr said, flushing a little. “How’s your head?”

  “Achy.” Aisa touched the spot where the stone had hit her. The sea had washed the blood away. “I will have a bruise beneath my hair, and it would be best if someone woke me at least twice tonight, but I will be fine.”

  “I am fine as well, in case anyone wants to know,” Ranadar complained. “Only my Talashka is dead.”

  “You are a prince among elves,” Kalessa said. “Surely your head is harder than any rock. Talfi’s is another matter.”

  “You know, sister, Slynd would have been an enormous help back there,” Aisa said. “A wyrm would have destroyed that squid without trouble.”

  Kalessa shrugged. “It is mating season back home in Xaron. As the saying goes, ‘You can’t keep salmon from the spawning grounds, and you can’t keep wyrms from the mating nests.’ Slynd will find me when he is finished.”

  “My Talashka,” Ranadar repeated, and kissed Talfi on the lips. Danr shifted uncomfortably and glanced away. Learning that his best friend was regi—not a nice word, but Danr had never learned a polite one—had caught Danr off guard, but he had finally forced himself to realize it was foolish for anyone, especially a half-blood, to judge someone based on who he fell in love with. Still, it looked odd to see two men together like that, especially a human and an elf. Danr supposed eventually he would take it in stride, but for now he had to remind himself not to flinch. And he would remind himself. Talfi was his best friend, and Danr wasn’t going to give that up over a few strange kisses.

  “What is taking him so long?” Kalessa drummed her fingers on the squid beak. “Usually, he’s—”

  Talfi gasped hard in Ranadar’s arms. He jerked once and sat up, blinking in the sunlight and the surf. “What—? Where—?”

  “You’re with me, my Talashka,” Ranadar said, touching his hair. “Everything is fine.”

  “Vik!” Talfi massaged his neck. “And, ow!”

  Everyone breathed a relieved sigh. Danr felt a little weak. Last year, Death had awarded Talfi half of Ranadar’s remaining days to keep Talfi out of the underworld, which apparently meant that Talfi couldn’t die, but no matter how many times Talfi came back to life, a small part of Danr always wondered if this death would be the last, and it was always a rush of relief when he came back.

  “What do you remember?” Aisa asked.

  Danr leaned closer to hear the answer. Aisa’s question was more than academic. At one time, each of Talfi’s deaths also wiped his memory clean. That had changed, but only last year.

  “I remember you.” Talfi pointed to Ranadar, then to Danr and Aisa and Kalessa. “And you, and you, and you.”

  It was an old joke, but they laughed anyway.

  Talfi continued to rub his neck. “That was not a fun way to die.”

  “Are any of them fun?” Kalessa inquired. “I only ask because one day, I am sure it will happen to me, and I want something to look forward to.”

  “None of them are fun,” Talfi said, then looked at Ranadar and smiled. “Well, maybe the little death isn’t bad.”

  “The little death?” Danr said.

  “It’s an elvish phrase,” Ranadar said, “for that moment when a mama and a papa—or just two papas—become very close to each other, and they—”

  “Let’s get back to town,” Danr interrupted, standing up. “Before another squid comes looking for a meal.”

  “Hello, little one,” Aisa said.

  For a moment, Danr thought she was talking to him, and that was strange. Not even his mother had called him little. Then he realized she was looking past him to a small boy. He looked to be five years old. His fair hair was bleached by the sun, and his skin tanned by it. He had inquisitive blue eyes and a pug nose.

  “Hello,” the boy said. “What are you people doing so far away from the city?”

  “We might ask you the same question,” Talfi said. He was still sitting on the sand with Ranadar’s arm around him. “Are your parents nearby?”

  “They’re back home.” The boy carried a stick, and he poked at the damp sand with it. “I come down here sometimes to see if Lady Bosha has washed anything up onshore. Sometimes I find bottles or even a barrel from a shipwreck, and we can sell it. We don’t have much money.”

  The boy didn’t seem the least bothered by finding a group with a half-blood troll in it, or two men with their arms around each other. Danr said, “I’m Danr. What’s your name?”

  “Joshuah.”

  “Well, Joshuah, we just killed a monster squid in the tidal cave down there, so if you’re in the habit of wandering around this beach, you’d better keep an eye out.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  Kalessa obligingly held out the squid beak, and Joshuah touched it with the awe only a little boy could muster. “And you’re an orc, aren’t you?”

  “A tribal princess,” Kalessa said. “And he’s an elven prince. And he”—she pointed to Danr—“is a prince among trolls, though he likes that as a secret, so don’t tell.”

  “And what are you?” the boy asked Aisa.

  “The commoner who worships at their feet,” she said.

  Now recognition rushed over Joshuah’s face. “Wait! You’re the heroes of the Twist! Danr, the half troll! I heard all about you from my dad! Are you real?”

  Here we go, Danr thought. “Real as you,” he said gruffly.

  “You killed a giant squid all by yourself?” Joshuah asked.

  “They helped a little,” Danr said.

  Talfi shot him a mischievous look. “He tore the beak and the ink sac out of the squid with his bare hands. You’re the first one to see it.”

  “Wow!” Joshuah said breathlessly. “Wait’ll I tell my brother! He’ll never believe it.”

  “Here.” Talfi took the ink sac and squeezed a dot onto the back of Joshuah’s arm. “Now they will. Go tell them.”

  Joshuah ran off, trailing laughter.

  “What did you do that for?” Danr groused. “We were trying to avoid more stories. By the end of the day, the whole city will be saying I tore the squid in half with my bare hands.”

  “You did tear the squid in half with your bare hands,” Aisa pointed out. “I was impressed.”

  “Really?” Danr said, a little surprised. Aisa was rarely impressed by anything.

  “Really.”

  “Thanks,” Danr said with a laugh of his own. The last of his tension was evaporating and his mood lifted despite the sun headache. He tried to put an arm around Aisa to hug her close, but she abruptly drew away. Vik. She did that a lot. Just when things were getting good between them, she pulled away, and he didn’t know why. Danr dropped his arm as if it had turned into a dead fish, and his face grew hot. The others studiously failed to notice. After a moment, Kalessa cleared her throat.

  “We must get back to the city and clean up,” she said. “Seawater will eat my armor faster than that creature.”

  “Can you walk, Talashka?” Ranadar asked.

  “Always.” Talfi scrambled to his feet, sending sand in all directions. “Coming back from the dead always fills me with energy. It’s like drinking sunlight.”

  “How is it to die and come back?” Kal
essa asked curiously.

  Talfi spun in a glorious circle. The rising surf washed at his feet, and a flock of seagulls cried overhead with a high, free sound. He dashed back to Ranadar and caught him in a breathless embrace. Danr gave Aisa a sidelong look and tried not to get jealous. Talfi and Ranadar had gone through more than one hell, including separation for more than two hundred years and Talfi losing his memory, before they’d been united, so it wasn’t as if they didn’t deserve what they had. But Danr had gone through a number of hells himself, and why didn’t he have this with Aisa? He glanced at her again. She gave him a small smile, then sighed and looked away. He wasn’t sure what to do. Always caught in between—troll and human, love and neglect, half of one and not quite the other, that seemed to be his lot in life.

  “Happy,” Talfi said. “It makes me happy. I don’t remember everything that happens, though. I remember the squid grabbing my neck, and then I was here with all of you. With Ran. Now I want to run to the moon and back.”

  “Let’s run back to the city to clean up,” Aisa said. “We have dinner with the prince tonight, remember.”

  “Blargh,” Talfi said. “I should have stayed dead.”

  “The city,” Danr sighed. “What am I going to look like this time, Ranadar?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  A isa threaded her way through the crowded streets, trying to look in all directions at once without trying to appear that she was doing so. She had pulled her wet scarf over her sodden hair, and she kept her face down as best she could. Normally, she favored a hooded cloak, but she had not brought one to the squid’s cave. Kalessa came a little behind her, proud and upright and refusing to hide her face. Farther behind were Ranadar and Talfi. Ranadar’s face was schooled in concentration because he kept the glamour on Danr, who walked in the center of them.

  At the moment, Danr looked like a pudgy, balding human in a brown robe, utterly nondescript, which was the way they wanted it. If anyone waved their hand in the air above the “man’s” head, they would have encountered a half troll’s chest. Elven glamours could change only appearance, not shape. No one, not even the Fae, could change shape. A powerful trollwife had once told Aisa a story about the Kin having the power to change shape, long ago and before the Sundering, but Aisa had never seen any evidence of such a power and now she found herself deciding that the story was nothing more than a legend. A pity, too—such power would come in handy.