The storm had departed like it had never appeared. Shaking the snow off my ice skimmer, I was glad nothing had so much as harmed the vessel. Before long, I had set off once again. Using the astrolabe, I charted a course again for Myz.
Upon my ice skimmer, I travelled for some days, little changing as it had been before. I confess I was beginning to feel on edge as more and more time passed. Strangely, it no longer seemed as if things could go on forever. I had already covered a great distance, and somewhere out in the interminable ice, there were the mountains older than time.
There would come a day, though I knew not the hour, when I would encounter the things that lurked in Myz. And that knowledge sent a chill deep into my bones. I still was not tempted to turn back, but I did not race across the plain with the same speed as I once did before. And whatever gave me cause for detour, I took it.
Twice a day, I would use my spear drill to cut through the ice to the waters below. One had to look for places where the water rose near the surface. There were many stretches of the Great Ice Plain where you could cut hundreds of feet deep and still find neither ocean nor rock. Other places, it seemed water, and strangely enough, great plumes of steam would rise up from the ice itself. I pondered this mystery for quite some time until a bizarre thought came to me.
I realized that I did not know how deep the Border Wall extended into the earth. I had heard tell of great furnaces, but I saw no smokestacks upon the great structure. I saw no fires nor any evidence of such. It followed then, that they must be buried very deep into the earth. And who was to say the Border Wall did not extend into the Great Ice Plain? Underneath all that ice and snow and rock, who had gone to check?
Perhaps as oddly enough to say it, I may have not yet crossed the Border Wall, for it might still be under my feet. That was an unsettling thought, the idea that somewhere beneath all that water and ice, great machines slowly churned to bring back a summer that would never arrive. And who knew what would happen should it finally fall silent? I knew there were other lands, though distant they may be, which had yet not succumbed to the snow. Would they fall as well? Would this world become one everlasting winter?
No one knew from whence mankind had first sprung, and many scholars now say that such a place, if it ever existed, is now lost to us. But Gaea was the first to be remembered, the first where men had taken up the quill and the scroll. And if men still had any sense left in them, I hoped that they should never allow this fate to come to pass. Gaea was special. She was the first beloved, and men would do well to remember that, unless her fate would be shared by the uncountable other spheres circling in their eternal orbits.
As I guided my ice skimmer half lost in thought, I noticed a change in the ice and snow. After a while on the Great Ice Plain, one developed an instinct for these things. Old ice was tougher, more set in the earth. There was little variation, little pattern. It could almost be described as great monoliths standing motionless, where nothing changed and nothing continued to change.
And then there was what I liked to call new ice. It was softer, more prone to cracks and variations in density. Here was the wellspring of vivacity and life not yet stilled by the endless cold. Here there were likely underground caverns and currents of water, and most importantly, fish. They travelled up and down these secret waters, swimming to and fro the submerged oceans of the Great Ice Plain.
I let the wind out of the sail and dropped anchor. An opportunity for fishing was not to be passed by, and I clambered to where my spear drill was secured to the hull.
Gereon had been correct when he said the equipment was unwieldy. The device was a large cylinder about the size of four grown men put together. There were many ringed components along the width, as well as many intricate and elaborate mechanisms. Gears and tubes and wiring ran along its asymmetrical surface, reminding me of the complex engines of a flier.
And indeed, it was not too dissimilar as the spear drill’s function was to manipulate and direct the flow of light. At the end was a barrel that pointed down and spun in concentric circles, directing the drill’s aim. Attached also was a collapsible tripod and a small panel of buttons and switches.
Normally, a single man would have to disassemble the larger mechanisms, move the bulk of the device to the desired location, and then reassemble it for use. However, I found my strength was such that I could, albeit with some difficulty, move it without the hassle. I set the spear drill down on the ice and extended the tripod.
Inputting the commands into the panel, the device whirred as it came to life. There was a crackle and a sliver of bluish light shot downward and penetrated the ice. The barrel at the bottom began rapidly spinning around, cutting and melting the ice bit by bit.
Depending on the strength and the material being cut, the spear drill could create a vertical tunnel up to two hundred feet down, though few would ever find reason to go to such depths. The spear drill also came with a winch and a long wiry rope for descending into the underground tunnels. All I needed to do was clip my belt to one of the loops fastened on the rope and input the command to descend. And when I needed to get up, I would tug hard three times and the device would automatically retract.
I had scarcely come back with a fishing rod and bait when I pleasantly discovered that the spear drill had already finished its work. Thankfully, I did not have to reposition and cut multiple holes as I had previously. Glancing down the vertical shaft, it was just wide enough for a man to descend comfortably. And at the bottom, I saw a hewn opening that was dripping into a glistening space below.
Another five minutes, and my boots touched a cavern buried at least forty or so feet under the surface. Unclipping myself, and taking stock of my new surroundings, I saw that I had landed in a long, large tunnel which split and diverged into many blue pathways. It was a maze of passages of ice and water that all blurred together into one pale world. Descending down the slippery ice, the tunnel widened still, its roof a vault well above my head. A river of water so clear it might’ve been glass slowly wound its way towards some unknown destination.
Bending over the water, I saw a crevice reaching down, darkening into ever deeper shades of blue until it was an abyssal black. I realized there was no telling where anything really began or ended in this new world. It was all a fanciful deceit of the light, always leaving more questions and secrets than answers.
I was never truly comfortable in these places, where light had been warped into something more sinister. Yet I needed the food, and so I prepared the bait and placed it on a hook. It was little more than a scrap of meat taken from one of my canned meals, but I found it was surprisingly effective. Something always caught at the end of the line.
Throwing it out into the middle of the river, I let the hook sink all the way into the darkness below. I planted the rod in the nearby ice and laid on my back, waiting for something to catch. While not quite comfortable, it was easier to rest down here without the brisk touch of the wind. I let myself relax, and I stared up at the constant blue glow from above.
…
I do not know when, but as I waited by the fishing rod, I noticed a peculiar change in the water. I was checking the fishing line when I saw that the abyssal night at the river’s bed began to swell and draw upward. The shadows lengthened even as I detected no dimming in the sunlight filtering down from above. In a few minutes, the whole river was an inky blackness that no eye could pierce.
Alarmed, I stood up and backed away from the water. I thought perhaps some strange substance had filled the river. And yet there was no change in texture nor flow of the water. It was like the chasmic depths of the ocean had been brought to the surface, in all their mystery and menace.
I went to take my leave of the place, fearing for what might happen next. But just as I took my first step, I heard the splashing of water and the soft crunching of ice. I turned around, and I saw an arm grasping at the icy riverbank.
It would’ve been wise to simply leave, but curiosity is an awful seduction. It is a sweet siren song, luring men forward to their peril. Of all temptations, curiosity is the most fiendish because it seems the most innocent.
I unsheathed my sword, bruised and battered as it was, and I cautiously approached. The arm belonged to a naked woman, floating face-down in the river of now blackest night. The darkness obscured much of her lower form. Her long white hair bobbed in the current. And yet, despite her aged tresses, the woman looked to be in her prime.
For a moment, I could’ve believed that she was a corpse. Her skin was so pale it might’ve never seen sunlight. But the woman seized, and she lurched further onto the riverbank, like she was carrying a great weight. Dripping black water, she clambered up until she was halfway out.
Still, I could not see her lower half, as if she was some creature manifesting from the water itself.
The woman breathed raggedly, every draw of the lungs evoking torment. She didn’t look up at me, and I presumed it was because the movement would be too painful.
I pressed the tip of my sword on her head. “What manner of creature are you?”
She reached a hand—webbed, I finally noticed—to my boot. “The Hand of Fate reaches back into ages long gone by,” she rasped. “A voice cries from the end of time, ‘Make straight the way of Ash-shira!’”
“Do not play games! Answer my question!” I pressed on the blade.
She spoke with the cracking voice of an ancient woman. “One servant sent to fasten the path, another to destroy it.”
With surprising speed, she seized my leg and pulled me into the water.
Her terrible strength was as such that I could offer no resistance. Instead, I fell on my back and was subsequently quickly dragged into the deep.
I panicked as I felt the icy chill of the water, not for myself, but rather for the Historiae Astrologus. I had kept it in my satchel at my side, and doubtlessly now, it had been ruined.
My panic quickly turned to despair and then rage at this creature who played this foul trick. She hadn’t let go of my leg, dragging me ever downward into the black water. But now I could see her true form.
From her waist down emerged the tail of a great fish, with molting and sickly green scales. She looked back up at me, and I saw her face for the first time. Her eyes were far larger than normal and were entirely black, like globes of darkness set into her face. Her mouth was also larger than normal, threatening to split her head in two. In it were many spindly sharp teeth which grinned hungrily.
Her frightening appearance did not perturb me, as I only craved her death. I thanked my training as an Astronomer as I found that I still had hold of my sword. I hacked it into her side, aiming for where the human turned into fish, as I surmised that the weakest. The blade cut into the flesh with surprising ease.
A haze of inky blood spat out from the wound, and I heard the creature cry out a garbled shriek in the water. She let go of me, and with a great flick of her tail, sent me spinning in the water as she fled into the night.
By that point, my chest was on fire. I desperately turned to swim towards the surface, only to discover that I could no longer determine where the surface was. All was an endless black void, with neither up nor down. Strangely more, even the edges of the riverbank were gone. I attempted to swim in the direction I was already pointed, hoping against all hope that I had not chosen poorly.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
I had gotten less than two strokes of my arm before I stopped as I saw something monstrous writhe where I was headed. A great fish, bigger than anything I had ever seen, lifted its gargantuan and horrifying head towards me. It could easily swallow me whole, not needing its countless rows of sharp teeth. Its beady eyes fastened on me with a lifeless stare. I knew it wanted to devour me, but something seemingly held it back. It raged in the distance, but did not come closer.
Many others started emerging from the void in every direction. Some were like the fish-woman, but most were not. All manner of terrifying sea life with tentacle and claw and tooth surrounded me. Things of gibbering jelly coalesced and watched with many eyes. I saw crustacean and squid and what resembled a sea urchin. The giant black sphere of needles bobbed and spun in the abyss with as eager malevolence as the rest of them. Even from the legends of old, I recognized none of these monsters. To think that such terrors existed wrought a new fear in my heart that had gone unsung before. For the rest of my days, I carried the weight of what I saw in that abyss.
In my growing horror, I realized that there was no possibility I was in the ice river anymore. I was somewhere else, some place of the dark and the deep.
I choked as my instincts for breath finally overrode sense. I opened my mouth only to take in a rush of water into my lungs. My vision blurred as I gasped and flailed as unnamable things swam and watched me die. I was losing strength. My fingers were losing purchase on my sword, and I could no longer swim.
Falling deeper and deeper into the black, I knew not what fate awaited me. Was there a seabed to this awful place, or would my corpse just fall forever? Would one of the creatures find the courage to eat me? Or would they watch content that I had died? But those questions were not what troubled me. It was that, in my foolishness, I had allowed my charge to be destroyed. I could not weep here, but I would’ve. The Historiae Astrologus was no more, and by the ploy of some dark, unknowable power, I had failed in my duty.
As the last glimmers of consciousness fled me, I felt something grab me by the arm. I thought it was one of the creatures, finally daring to come forth and sink its teeth into me. But I felt no pain or injury. Instead, something pulled me up.
I no longer had the strength to lift my head or open my eyes. As it was, I floated between death and dream until I felt the breaking of the water’s surface. I was callously dragged back onto the ice where, with the last of my strength, I vomited out the black water and lost consciousness.
…
I awoke a short time later, with the sensation that only a minute or so had passed. I was very weak, but strength slowly returned. Though shivering cold and feeble, my first concern was for the tome. I reached into my satchel, where I was prepared to have a sword run through my heart. But I prayed I could perhaps save a page or two. Maybe just a scrap of paper. Maybe a word. And though what I loved had been destroyed, perhaps I could still carry its spirit to Calrathia.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I loosened the straps of my satchel and pulled out the book.
I did not understand what I saw at the time. By some miracle of miracles, the tome had remained completely dry. It was untouched, unharmed by what had transpired. Even as water dripped from my soaked body and my wet hands held the pages, not one part of the paper turned damp.
I got to my knees and gave great thanks to the Potentate, for it was only by His intervention that such a power could be worked. Fear and trembling awe filled me, and I would’ve remained in prayer for a long time had I not noticed a new companion. Weakly standing and placing the tome aside, I examined my new surroundings.
I was back where I had been, my fishing rod still dangling bait into the blackened river. And on the ice stood something I did not fully understand.
He wore a full plate of armor the color of greenish soapstone. I could not determine the metal it was made of, but it was decorated with many scales. Little of his body was left exposed to the eye. I could only catch the hints of pale flesh underneath black cloth. Sheathed at his side was a curved sword that seemed to be patterned after the flow of a wave. His greaves and gauntlets were decorated with tattered cloth decorated in the likeness of the fins of a fish. His helm was modeled after a fish as well, a visor where the gaping mouth shut closed. I could not see his face, and nor did I wish to, after what transpired in the water.
“You have my thanks for saving me,” I told him, bowing. “Perhaps you can shed some light on what has occurred here, for I have many questions.” I glanced at the ever blackened river, afraid that something else might come out of it.
“Hark, Sirius!” A gurgling voice came from the helm. “You are well met. You have treaded upon the deep and have found favor with Livyatan. He sent me to save your life.”
I was greatly disturbed by this revelation. I knew the stories, and I knew Livyatan had no love for the realms of men.
“What was that woman? What is that black abyss? Tell me what power caused this.”
The fish-knight tilted his head, almost as if he were surprised I should ask such an obvious question. “Surely you have felt the influence of other hands on your journey. Many did not think you would get this far, and already some have moved against you. Thrice they have already tried to prevent you from making the crossing to Calrathia.”
I did not know what I should’ve made of those words. I could scarcely imagine who would be interested in one man’s journey to death, but who was I to know and comprehend such powers?
“Fear not!” The fish-knight saw the look of apprehension on my face. “I have been sent to offer you a safe way to Calrathia. Livyatan will take you under his protection and no further harm shall come to you.”
The fish-knight unsheathed his sword and struck the water. Immediately, the darkness parted as if chased away by the morning sun.
I looked at the river, and instead of the abyss, I saw underwater a great palace, filled with dazzling lights. Fish whose scales might’ve been encrusted jewels swam frolicking amongst columns and roofs of multicolored coral. I saw braziers of green flame hung from eaves decorated with scenes of great battles and triumphs. There were pavilions and forums and amphitheaters. There were tables laden with great feasts, with many kinds of fish cooked and prepared on silver platters.
I saw attendants of fish-woman, beautiful instead of monstrous. Their hair was not yet white, and their faces were as sculpted from delicacy and grace itself. I saw other fish-knights standing guard at the entrances and pacing throughout. Some rode upon steeds of Ichythosaurs, though these seemed noble beasts instead of the predatory horrors I had so recently witnessed.
All this I took in with wonder.
“Livyatan will grant you passage through his lands. You will be able to breathe water as you would the air of your homeland. We would treat you to many great feasts as befitting your nobility. Your way would be made easy, and you will have swift travel to Calrathia.”
I was so entranced with what I saw that I nearly forgot myself and took a step forward to the water. And yet, I hesitated. For while this seemed a good and tempting offer, I did not trust this stranger nor his words. The realms of the sea have never been friend to the race of men, and I did not think earning Livyatan’s favor was necessarily be a good thing.
Once again, I bowed to the fish-knight. “This gift is beyond my words to thank. But I must ask, for what reason did this small man merit Livyatan’s goodwill?”
“Because you are Sirius of the School of Astronomers. There need not be another reason.”
I had the sense the fish-knight was telling the truth, but the way he danced around my questions did not give me comfort. Turning away from the pool and to the Historiae Astrologus, I picked up my tome.
It remained dry even with my still wet fingers. The droplets that fell on the cover and pages quickly fled the book. I decided to put it back in my satchel. If it couldn’t be destroyed by water, there was little reason to think the dampness of my clothing could harm it.
“What is your answer?” The fish-knight’s belching voice came off as strangely anxious and impatient.
I admit, a part of me desperately wanted to accept. To travel in comfort and ease to Calrathia was sorely tempting. I was tired and shivering from my earlier encounter, and the thought that I might bypass the horrors of Myz was another thing to consider.
My sword had fallen on the ice a short distance away. It was a ragged piece of steel. That it was my only defense against what lay in the barren lands did not bode well for my success. But to travel with this nearly broken blade somehow seemed the safer of the two options presented before me. Something was wrong here. I did not know what, but I took up my sword quickly.
“I will travel upon my ice skimmer,” I said, finally answering the fish-knight. “I thank the Great Song of the Sea for his generosity.”
“You decline Livyatan’s offer?” The fish-knight asked.
“I neither accept nor decline,” I carefully said. “I will not dishonor Livyatan by refusing him. Instead, I shall keep my silence until I can adequately appreciate this enormous charity.”
The fish-knight considered this for a moment before dropping to one knee. “Then allow me to swear an oath of fealty to you. I can lend you my blade and skill to keep you safe on your long journey.”
Again I was disquieted, and again I replied. “I neither accept nor deny you. Give me time to consider your pledge.”
I turned towards the rope to lift back up onto the surface. I wished to have no more of this conversation, and I desperately wished to see sky and land again.
I do not know what it was that alerted me. Perhaps it was the crunch of ice. Perhaps it was the clink of armor. Perhaps it was the ghost of a hand on my shoulder. In any case, I turned around just in time to see the fish-knight swipe at me with his sword.
Stumbling back, I raised my own sword just in time to catch my attacker’s blade. The greenish sword sank an inch into my own, but thankfully it did not cleave my weapon in two.
“What treachery is this!?” I shouted at the knight, whose purpose remained obscured behind a visor. I could only make out the outline of a bulging face with black eyes, but nothing more.
“One moment you would swear an oath of fealty and the next you would murder the man?” I continued, accusing him. “Do you have no honor!?”
“It is the will of Livyatan,” the fish-knight answered, as if that illuminated anything.
The fish-knight drew his sword back and thrusted it. I stepped back and parried, the clash again ripping off chinks of metal from my already wounded sword. This could not last long, I realized.
We traded blows as I sought to find a weakness in the fish-knight’s swordsmanship. The strikes came heavy but slow, each time chipping deeper and deeper notches in my sword. I did not know what metal the fish-knight’s blade was made of, but I quickly learned to fear it as I progressively backed away.
The battlefield was not to my liking, either. The slippery ice was a constant hazard, and if I lost my step, I knew it would be all over. I fought a defensive yet slowly losing fight as more and more of my sword was cut away. And all the while, the fish-knight didn’t seem to tire or lose breath. He was the stronger and the tougher. By all accounts, I had no doubt of this. But as I was pushed back, I realized he might not be the faster.
Our swords met again, and again, his weapon buried into mine.
“I ask you again, why do I deserve your enmity?” I grunted under the strain. It was a minor miracle that I had matched pace with the warrior after having so soon nearly drowned. My limbs were tiring fast, and I knew it might not be my sword that failed first.
“It is because of your crown,” the fish-knight said. “I tell you, the next age shall heed the mere whisper of your name.”
“I am a man destined to die, and I never wanted to be more than that.”
The fish-knight laughed a sickly gurgle, as if chuckling to a joke only he knew.
We swung again, and again, we locked blades. This time, the fish-knight’s sword cleaved more than halfway through my own. But now I had the proper measure of this warrior. For all his strength, he moved slowly. As if he was still submerged in water, he moved with a ferocity that cast him off balance. He could cut through my sword, but he had placed too much power in his strikes, too much strength behind single blows.
My arms finally lagged, and I realized I was out of time. I stepped forward, closing the gap. The fish-knight swung for my head, and I threw my sword up, putting all my strength into one final parry. And as I predicted, my sword could do more. The fish-knight’s weapon cut right through mine, and my blade was struck in half.
But the fish-knight miscalculated. The blow was too heavy, and he staggered forward, not anticipating the cost of the strike. I seized the opening and rushed forward with my sword, its broken end slanting into a sharp tip.
I grasped him, and raising my newly hewn shortsword, I stabbed it down into the fish-knight’s neck. In between the chinks of his armor, I plunged my blade towards his heart. Black blood spurted out of the wound, and the knight staggered. He dropped his sword and weakly tried to push at my arms. I shoved the sword deeper before pulling it out and kicking him away. Choking on his last breaths, he fell backward into the river.
I stepped onto the icy riverbank to watch him pass. His gushing blood marred the image of the palace and the wonders therein. I saw the inky blackness revealed again through the fish-knight’s passing corpse. He sank for a long time until something I could not see snatched his small body away and ate it. The image faded, and I was left with the familiar and surprisingly welcome visage of the river as it had been.
I inspected my damaged sword, and I sighed. The encounter had cost me dearly. I could still make use of my blade like a dagger, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough for the troubles ahead. I sheathed it and went over to the fish-knight’s sword.
It seemed an able weapon, despite the strange design of the blade. It curled along the edge and at the end crested like a wave. It was made of the same metal as the fish-knight’s armor and its hilt was wrapped in the same scales.
And yet, despite seeming dry, the sword felt slippery in my hands. I had to hold it tighter than I normally would, else it might threaten to tumble from my fingers. I knew immediately that this would not do. If I had to concentrate on simply holding the weapon in a fight, it was more an encumbrance than a use. It was clear this sword had no desire to call me master, even with my victory over its previous owner.
“Very well!” I said to the blade. “Since you have no desire for me, I shall not use you. But upon you I shall leave a curse. May you be forgotten! May none of your ilk come to retrieve you! May this place be your grave, and may no one wield you again!”
I went down the tunnel a ways where I found an alcove, and I buried the ignoble sword in the ice. I did not throw it in the river, as I was still wary of the water. But in any case, I was quite certain it would not be found again.
Kicking the snow off my boots, I departed that place, and I did not look back.