Page 110 of Beneath the Haunting Sea
“You saved me, Mama, that night on the ship. Now I’m here to save you.”
More silver tears ran down her mother’s cheeks. “I cannot go with you. I cannot be free. I am bound here for all of time, until the dead rise from the sea. But even then Iwill belong to her.”
“The stories say I can save you. The stories say I can bring you back to life.”
“The stories are wrong. I cannot be free. You must go or she will make you join the dance, too. Even now she compels me to draw you into the figures, to teach you the steps and hold you here until your life flees away and you become one of the dead. Please, Talia. You must go. You can’t helpme.”
“I won’t leave you,” said Talia fiercely. “I won’t lose you forever. I can help you!”
She saw the change fold over her mother, the blankness crawl back into her face. “Dance with me,” her mother moaned, the words cold and dead and far away, the spark of life in her eyes entirely extinguished. “You must dance with me.”
And then she seized Talia’s arm and jerked her into the shadowy throng.
Chapter Fifty
THE MUSIC BURNED IN HER EARS ANDthe dead teemed all around, and her mother would not release her. Dead fingers bit sharp and cold into her arm. “Let go of me! You can come back. You can live again.”
But her mother didn’t hear. “It isn’t so bad,” she said, her mouth frozen once more into a silent, agonized scream. “Once you learn the steps, it is easy to be dead.”
Talia slippedher free hand into the knapsack still hanging at her hip, and took the Tree-sliver from its casket.“Let go of me,”she commanded, holding the shard up into her dead mother’s face. Power coursed through her, so strong it scared her.
Her mother screamed and released her, scrabbling desperately away from the Tree-shard. An instant more and she was lost in the tide of the dead, teeming dark, beforeRahn’s throne.
Talia scrambled backward. The sea roared in her ears and the power of the Words pulsed in her skin, fading from her bit by bit. The Whale’s voice echoed in her mind:When the Words unravel, you will drown.
She curled her fingers around the Tree-shard and willed the Words to stay. Another surge of power flashed through her body. She lifted her head, still holding tight to the Tree,and walked toward the river of the dead.
She stepped into the dance, shouldering her way past scores of empty faces, frozen screams, hopeless shadows. They danced and spun in their endless rows, but they didn’t touch her, seeming to fear the Tree-shard in her hand.
And then she saw, coming toward her through the dead, a steady, unwavering light. The shadows parted and there was Wen, his skintorn and his clothes in tatters, his jaw tight with determination. The Star-light shone strong in his hand.
She met him in the midst of the dancers, her free hand tangling in his. “Thank the gods. I thought I’d lost you.”
He squeezed her hand, his blue eyes locking onto hers. His face was taut with concentration, or maybe pain. The Words of protection were fading from him, too. “She’s watchingus, Talia. She knows we’re here.”
“Then it’s time,” said Talia grimly. She stared at him a moment, studying every line of his face, carving it into her memory. “But Wen, before we do this, there’s something I have to tell you—”
“Tell me later,” he said softly. “When we’re safe at home again.”
He smiled at her.
It hurt. It hurt so much. But she forced herself to smile back.
“Let’s finish this,”she said. “Together.”
“Together,” he agreed.
He let go of her hand and she tore her glance away from him. They both started scaling the dais, one on either side of the tangled tower of seaweed and bone.
She climbed as quickly as she could, grabbing bones and roots and coral, the weight of the water trying to crush her into oblivion. Pearls skittered down like pebbles around her and the coralsliced her fingers, but she almost didn’t feel the pain. Around the dais, Wen kept pace with her, the Star-light in one hand.
Unbidden, the Whale’s words coiled through her head:He will die for the love of you.
The Billow Maidens’ music rose to a horrid, keening wail, and she looked down to find them staring at her. Watching. Listening. Even Endain’s blind eyes were raised toward her.
Andthen Talia was grasping the top of the dais, her eyes level with Rahn’s feet, bare and white beneath the wavering hem of her dress.
“You are very bold, worm of the earth,” came the goddess’s voice above her, jagged lightning and wind and waves twined together. “Come. Let me have a look at you.”
