The Book of the New Moon Door: Part Two, Chapter Fourteen

Trouble

The Book of the New Moon Door cover image: A book with yellowing, wrinkled pages lies open on an old wooden desk, with a sprig of lavender lying in the center.

Dawn breaks over the city by the time they reach the gates. Berend is usually good at keeping track of time, always waking right before his watch is due to start, but the night seems to have passed by in just a few hours. He doesn’t like it.

Isabel is half a step ahead of him. Though she stops once more at the gate to make sure he’s following, she says nothing. She may have been weeping, silent and stone-faced, but it’s too dark still for Berend to tell.

We are in trouble.

Berend doesn’t want to have to be the reasonable one between the pair of them. His hands still itch as he pictures wrapping them around Arden Geray’s ghostly neck. It feels satisfying in his imagination, even though he’s aware that dead spirits don’t work that way. Failing that, he wants to go straight to the university hospital and shake Lucian Warder awake, his injuries be damned. Isabel is supposed to be preventing him from doing that, at least until she’s explained how best to not get himself killed in the process.

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Journey to the Water Chapter XXI: Calm Seas

Journey to the Water cover image: three evergreen trees stand on a hillside, shrouded in bluish fog. Subtitle reads: the sequel to Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea.

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With the terrible book in my hands, I retraced my steps through the neglected garden and returned to the palace. A cold wind had come in from the sea as the sun set, and the strange warmth of the book’s leather binding cooled until it felt like the skin of a dead man. I considered throwing it from the ship as soon as I reached open water. I could only guess at its contents, but I was filled with the grim certainty that it was an evil book, and I would find no help in its pages that did not cost me my very soul.

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The Book of the New Moon Door: Part Two, Chapter Thirteen

Fracture

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Berend stands under a sky filled with blinking, staring eyes, surrounded on all sides by the restless dead. A red star shoots overhead like a firework, disappearing below a distant horizon in a blaze of ruby light. The world shakes with a terrible shriek, and Berend falls into it, the sound tearing him apart from within, his vision turning black at the edges and a burning pain spreading from his heart to his fingertips.

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Journey to the Water, Chapter XX: The Temple of the New Gods

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Like most of the people of Salmacha, the priest Chanjask was tall and long-limbed, and his age was difficult to tell. His skin lacked the rough, oaken quality of his superior, Ucasta, so I guessed him to have lived forty or fifty years. He possessed bright, dark eyes that darted quickly from face to face in the crowded throne room. He was a clever man, if not a wise one; he knew which way the winds were turning, and he would set the sails of his life and career accordingly.

He finished his recitation of the law as Mara had asked, and he bent to kneel on the floor, touching his brow to the marble tile and raising his hands in supplication—to the princesses, it would appear, though Mara still held the power to decide his fate. She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, and he stood, more quickly than his apparent age might allow. He backed away, holding his empty hands palms-up as though he were offering a gift. He let the gathered mass of noblemen envelop him, and I was certain he intended to disappear.

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The Book of the New Moon Door: Part Two, Chapter Twelve

Revelations II

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Isabel closes her eyes. As she has no physical eyelids at the moment, it doesn’t do anything. Her vision is still filled with ghosts, crowding in around her, blocking all escape routes.

But they’re not coming for her. They’re moving past her, like an unending river of death across the fields. Their incorporeal steps sink into the ground as though they’re trudging through a mire, slowly and doggedly.

“Where am I?” asks the ghost of a young woman, a tattered shawl gathered around her head and trailing misty fibers. Tied around her chest is a sling to hold a young baby, but it is empty, lying flat against her swollen breasts.

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Journey to the Water Chapter XIX: The Palace, Still Standing

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In the throne room, the windows were little more than arrow slits; the last line of defense between the king and an invader from the sea. But as the sun filtered through and cast bright lines on the marble floor, the throne stood empty. Salmacha was now without a ruler. Perhaps, I thought, it had been without for a long time before my harpoon finally slew King Sondassan.

The weapon lay quiet across my legs as I sat at the base of the dais, beside Hamilcar and his crew and a good distance from the twin princesses. Having done its duty, it was content, and projected to me a sense of accomplishment. It was pleased with my actions. There would always be more tyrants, more men willing to spend the blood of others on power for themselves, but for the moment, the work was complete.

I’d held an enchanted weapon only once before: the Sword of Heaven, the tool of the god Torr, who had taken my Khalim from me. It, too, had approved of me. I’d used it to slay the great worm as it laid waste to Phyreios, and I had gladly given it up to the custody of Jin and his temple.

I would call my harpoon Storm, I decided, for the thunderclap I had heard as it destroyed King Sondassan. Having spent the early part of my life upon the roof of the world, I had great respect for storms. They could destroy a ship just as easily as they could fill its sails; lay waste to a village as easily as water its crops.

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The Book of the New Moon Door: Part Two, Chapter Eleven

Revelations I

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Isabel falls quiet. There’s a long walk ahead of her, and a longer night after that. She has to conserve her strength. There have been more sleepless nights in the last week than she ever had to endure as an apprentice, and even then, young as she was, she had not endured them happily.

The wind blows cold, and it carries a smell of frost as it crosses dry, brown fields on its way to the sea. Isabel can just make out the shapes of cut rows on either side of the road. Harvest time is well under way, and winter will follow, bringing with it a slight relief from the walking dead. Spirits are no less angry in winter, but bodies without the breath of life cannot keep their limbs from freezing solid, and their decay slows along with their chance of spreading pestilence. Winter, as the old sayings go, is when Sentinels retreat to their cloisters to study the same dusty tomes they studied the year before, and the year before that, going all the way back to the first Sentinel Rainier.

With a sudden ache like a knife to her ribs, Isabel misses the library in Vernay. Her superiors will learn of her failings in a few short days, when Father Pereth’s request for her replacement reaches them. They will turn her away, or worse, allow her in and follow her through the halls with looks of pity and distrust, as though she’s a vagabond relying on their charity.

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Journey to the Water Chapter XVIII: In the Hall of the Dead King

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Sondassan fixed his gaze upon me, but it was not I who would first face the half-dead king’s wrath. As Hamilcar and his crew entered the room, they descended upon the priests, knocking them down and silencing their chanting. Soon, only the sound of the heaving earth and the clashing of steel remained in the room. I recognized Halvor and Kelebek, both armed with curved swords and small round shields. With them were Issa and Adama, a pair of brothers from the southlands, Issa with his dark pate shaved bald and Adama’s hair twisted into a mane of tiny braids. Their swords came in matched pairs, one in each hand. Halvor also carried my harpoon on his back. Languishing in the dungeon, I had thought I would never see it, nor any of my companions, again.

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The Book of the New Moon Door: Part Two, Chapter Ten

Theology

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“Well.” Berend shifts, the varnished wood uncomfortable under his still-sore legs, and moves himself closer to Isabel. “It can’t be all bad, can it?”

She gives him a look, her brows furrowed and her mouth twisted into a confused frown.

Try as he might, Berend can’t think of anything to tell her to lift her spirits. “The weather’s lovely,” he tries, but it falls flat even to his own ears.

Isabel folds her hands in her lap and looks over her shoulder. A lone petitioner, dressed in heavy black layers and a mourning veil, enters the cathedral and turns toward the priests’ offices. Her shoes echo a slow, steady rhythm under the dome. They sound expensive.

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Journey to the Water Chapter XVII: The Hollow Chamber

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I held the unlocked manacles close to my chest and kept my head bowed, being led as I was to the slaughter. For all I knew, I would be sacrificed at the end of the tunnel. I had received no news since Mara Suryan had promised me she would try to contact my companions on the Lady of Osona and prepare a daring escape. I feared she had not been successful. Or, perhaps, she had decided that my death was an acceptable loss for the sake of the lives of her young charges. I would not fault her for that.

Ajan led me through the bowels of Salmacha. Behind me walked two other guards, mailed and armed as he was, to prevent my escape. They were unnecessary—the way back led only to my cell. The only way to go was forward.

Silence fell upon the corridor. The digging had stopped. Beneath my feet, the earth tensed and trembled; not quite a quake, but the warning of one. Whatever slept under the island was close to waking. If it did, all hope was lost.

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