Fire Heart (The Titans: Book One) (44 page)

A moment later the claw settled back into the ground, drawing a great furrow in the wet sand as it steadied its makeshift bridge. Will grinned despite himself. “Amazing,” he whispered, and then he looked back at Clare and indicated the leg. “Ladies first,” he said. She took a step forward and, for a brief instant, her emerald eyes met his.

“Will, I just wanted you to know...” she trailed off momentarily, faltering, and looked away. “I'm sorry,” she finally finished. “For upsetting you.”

“It's...it's fine,” he answered softly, though the pain that had suddenly welled deep inside of him said otherwise. He caught sight of the rest of his men out of corner of his eye and said, “Let's, ah...let's get on this thing. We need to hurry.” There was so much more he wanted to say, but right then the City in the Waves came first. He looked away from Clare and tried to force his feelings away to someplace deep inside his mind.

She climbed up the creature's leg a moment later, gripping the coral stubs to steady herself, and then she was walking down the length of the living bridge, her dark hair blowing serenely in the coastal wind. Will sighed and moved to follow her.

A sharp pain in the back of his head stopped him, and he whirled around angrily. Hook stood behind him, a glare on his face and his arms folded firmly across his chest. “What?!” Will hissed, rubbing his scalp.

Hook pointed in Clare's direction, and then made a face and gestured with his hands as if to say,
“You're just going to let her go like that?”

“I...” Will faltered, and then turned back to the creature with a grumble. “Move out,” he called over his shoulder, and his order was followed by the sound of many feet tramping across the beach. Behind him Hook gave a phlegmy, exasperated sigh.

Will hesitated for only a brief moment before placing his hands once more on the creature's slick carapace—it shuddered again—and then he was climbing, using the rough patches of barnacles and coral for traction on the otherwise treacherously slippery surface. The great beast moved gently beneath him with a rhythm that invoked thoughts of breathing, or perhaps a slow heartbeat, and while Will found the idea of standing on a living creature somewhat disturbing, the constant, swaying motion was oddly calming. He even found himself smiling as he crested the leg's first joint.

From there the leg widened even further, becoming large enough for three or four men to walk abreast, and Will was struck again by the immense size of the thing. Clare was only a short distance away and, after a brief internal debate, he trotted along the slippery makeshift bridge to catch up with her.

“You shouldn't have come,” he said softly, indicating her hand. “I mean...are you going to be alright in a fight?”

For a moment he regretted his words and worried that they might make her angry, but she flexed her fingers and replied, “I'm not sure.” The admission seemed rather ominous, especially when accompanied by the strange hollow thump of their boots on the living bridge. “But I've got these,” she continued, indicating her sword and the armor the Faellan had given her—the strange, bronze-colored plate that was both light and strong. Its leaf-like design, naturally, invoked thoughts of the forest. Will's own set was very similar, if larger, and it had come with a new longsword.

“Go back,” Will blurted. “There's no reason for you to put yourself in danger like this. I mean...you didn't even bring Grim. What if something happens to you?”

“I'm willing to take that risk,” she said, and her words were so soft that they were almost imperceptible. “I promised Serah...” She trailed off, but Will narrowed his eyes, an inkling of her meaning forming in his mind.

“What did you promise her?” he asked. “Clare, if this is about...protecting me or something stupid like that, then—”

“I'm here because I want to be, Will!” she cried, and he stopped, stunned into silence as though slapped. She had never raised her voice to him before, and he found he did not know what to do. She turned away, hiding her face behind the curtain of her hair, and when she spoke again her words were softer. “Spirits above. I told you I'd stay with you to the end, and I intend to make good on that promise. If I die making sure the Dragon King survives, it'll be a good death.”

Her declaration struck him like a physical blow.
The Dragon King?
he thought.
Is that all I am to her? Is Will the Human dead?

They were nearing the end of the sea beast's leg, and Will could see the soft, wet, fleshy tissue where the limb joined the body. The tender region was surrounded by a thick wall of armored shell. And there was something else—this close to the thing's body, he could actually hear the deep, rhythmic sound of its breathing. But he pushed all of that from his mind and seized Clare by the arm, his grip gentle but firm, and pulled her to a quick halt. “Maybe I don't want anybody to die for me,” he hissed, aware from the corner of his vision that his men had also stopped a short distance behind them. “Did you ever think about that? Maybe I don't give a damn about your stupid promise to me or to Serah. Void take it, Clare, I don't
want
anybody else to sacrifice themselves just so I can keep on living—least of all you. Now
please,
go back to the Dark Forest until we can figure out a way to get you well again.”

She slapped him. Hard. His cheek stung from the blow, but rather than lash back out as he would have done with anyone else, he simply dropped his gaze and let his hand fall from her arm. He heard a collection of gasps and low whistles emanate from his men, but he ignored them.

“If you think that I would leave you at a time like this,” she hissed, the anger in her voice almost tangible, “then you really don't know me at all.” Will did not meet her eyes, and then she was gone, her boots thunking quickly along the armored shell. He stood there numbly until Castor clapped him on the shoulder.

“I will pretend not to have seen that,” the Lord Commander said quietly, and Will gave a short, humorless laugh.

Clare had disappeared amid the crowd of warriors by the time Castor and Will made it over the leg joint and onto the creature's back. “I'll go talk to her,” Katryna said to Will, and she started off into the throng.

“Katryna, wait—don't bother her,” Will said, reaching out to stop her, but she brushed his hand aside.

“Sorry, my king. No dice.” And then she, too, was swallowed by the mob.

Will looked at Castor and shook his head in defeat. Castor simply shrugged. “There's no stopping them once they get something in their heads,” he said.

Will sighed. “That is certainly the truth.”

He once again pushed those complicated thoughts of women from his mind, and instead tried to find Borbos. His roving gaze eventually became completely enraptured with the creature they were standing on, though, and he stared in fascination at the great, mottled-brown segments that stretched off fore and aft  impossibly far. Will guessed that the animal—or what he could see of it, at any rate—had to be at least a league in length. It undulated slowly as he traversed its surface, its body creaking and groaning as it moved.

He finally found Borbos standing with Feothon, Leyra, and Serah toward where he assumed the creature's head must be. They were talking amongst themselves in low voices, and when Feothon spotted Will walking toward them he shushed the others, who turned around to look. Will briefly contemplated inquiring about their strange behavior, but decided that it would be a futile exercise; they obviously did not want him to hear what they were saying.

“Will,” Borbos said in greeting. “I, ah...saw you speaking with Clare. Be everything alright?”

Leyra stretched her arms out to the sides, and Will heard several distinct pops as she cracked her spine. One of her fists—seemingly by accident—caught Borbos in the chest, knocking him backward a step. “Oh,” she said, “my apologies.” Will was once again struck by the beauty in her voice, but this paled in comparison to his confusion at the juvenile demeanor she and the other Titans were suddenly displaying. With such a guilty look on his face, Borbos almost looked like a child caught with his fingers in a pie. And the way Leyra glared down at Borbos almost reminded Will of...

He stifled a laugh. They reminded him of siblings—they were acting just like brothers and sisters, and for some reason Will found this oddly humorous.

“I'm not sure,” he said in answer, and then he grinned sheepishly. “I think I made her angry.”

“Men,” Leyra growled. “They never say the right thing. It is a wonder we have not killed them all off by now.”

“Perhaps it's because you'd have a difficult time surviving for very long without us,” Will said with a grin. “I mean, unless you've got...you know...” He indicated Leyra's lower regions vaguely with his hand and waggled his eyebrows, and then almost laughed yet again as he realized that he was behaving exactly as they were.
Brothers and sisters,
he mused.
A family. My family.
It felt good to talk to them—natural, as though he had known them all his life. It felt very similar to when he was around Clare.

Leyra hefted her axe menacingly. “Careful, boy. You may be my brother, but I have no qualms about beating some respect into you.”

Will grinned even wider and beckoned to her with his finger. “Catch me if you can, old woman.”

Borbos burst out laughing and doubled over with his hands on his knees. Leyra swatted the back of his head, and the blow was hard enough to make him stumble forward. He laughed even harder and righted himself. “Oh, spirits above,” he gasped. “Will, I think you'll fit in with this rabble just fine.”

Will smiled softly and, after a moment's hesitation, moved up to join their little crowd. He supposed it was the proper thing to do; he was, after all, a Titan on the eve of a battle. His place was with his family. “Borbos, this thing is huge,” he said, indicating the sea creature. “Is...is
this
the City in the Waves?  A living city?”

Borbos barked a short laugh. “No, boy, this be my favorite creation—the Leviathan, the guardian of the seas. He's been around since the beginning of time.” He knelt down and patted the armored shell,
and the beast shuddered happily like a puppy with its master. Borbos smiled. “He likes you, you know. That be what that great noise was when you touched him for the first time. He used to love giving Davin rides.”

“The Dragon King has always held a special place in the Leviathan's heart,” Feothon said. “As far back as I can remember, at any rate.”

“We need to go,” Serah said, and her harsh tone jarred the lightened mood. “Your city is under attack, Borbos, no? Or did you forget?”

“Right you are,” the Sea Lord replied, and the gaiety vanished from his face so quickly and completely that it might as well have never existed at all. He knelt and placed his hands on the Leviathan's back. “Take us to the City,” he whispered, and the creature groaned. Standing on top of its body made the sound exponentially louder than before, and Will could feel the almost painful vibrations shuddering up through his feet and into his bones.

The leg still resting on the shore lifted into the air and drew back in toward the Leviathan's body with a great splash that kicked up an enormous plume of water. Waves crashed into the side of the creature, sloshing over the edge and wetting its passengers' feet. And then Will felt its carapace shift beneath him, and he looked back just in time to see a great, finned tail lift out of the sea and rise high into the sky. Water cascaded off of it and fell through the air like a torrent of rain before it crashed back down into the waves with an impact so heavy that Will nearly lost his balance from the force of the blow.

And then they were moving, the water rushing by far faster than Will would have expected with such an immense beast. The wind picked up, buffeting his face and whistling through the edges of his armor, and he took a deep breath full of the salty air. Someday, he decided, he would come back to the sea when all the fighting was over. He could get used to a place like this.

Someday, of course, if the gods saw fit to let him survive this whole ordeal.
But I
am
one of the gods here,
he thought again.
Does that mean I make my own fate?
He set his jaw and his hand went up unconsciously to touch the handle of the new longsword on his back—an unfamiliar handle that did not fit him, attached to an unfamiliar blade that would never feel right. But for the time being, it would do. If that was what it took to stop the traitorous Fallen, then he could live with a strange sword.

Of the three Deaths, the Behemoth was the strongest. Into its pit of endless hunger the Dark One poured unfathomable power. And when the beast was finished, the Dark One unleashed it upon the seas. It devoured all it encountered, constantly feeding its insatiable appetite, and mankind despaired. Whole cities were abandoned along the coast, and tales of a massive demon from beneath the waves kept children from playing in the waters.

But Beros, Titan of the Five Seas, would let his home be desecrated no longer.

His power came from the sea, and like the sea it was an endless, flowing, crushing force that could smite all in its path as quickly as it gave life to the creatures beneath the waves. From this font of energy he drew the plans for the Leviathan, designed to be the Behemoth's equal in every way, and destined to battle its nemesis until the end of time.

~

Clare's first thought was that the City in the Waves, even from the great distance at which she was viewing it, was breathtakingly beautiful. A twisting, towering column of bleached white coral that rose high into the air, it shone so brightly in the tropical sunlight that Clare had to shield her eyes. Her next thought was that she had never before in her life seen so much coral, much less all in one place; it was so vast that its width was nearly as long as the Leviathan, and it was so tall that had there been any clouds, Clare was sure its highest spires would have just scraped their undersides.

And her third thought was that, this far out in the sea, there must have been enough of the city beneath the waves to dwarf what was above them.

There were ships, too—dozens of ships of every size and make imaginable. They extended for leagues in all directions, their sails fluttering serenely in the wind and the sound of men and women calling out to one another drifting faintly through the air. As they drew closer, she could see sailors on the nearest ships scrambling about the rigging, raising new flags the color of the sea. They were embroidered with the image of a golden fish in mid-jump; Clare guessed they must be Borbos' personal heraldry.

She did not know how long she stood staring at the fleet and the city, but she was eventually startled from her awed reverie by a rough hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Katryna and Borbos' woman—Caleeta, was it?—standing behind her.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Caleeta whispered, her words muddled by her thick Islander accent. Clare caught the gist of it, though, especially when she looked at the woman's eyes; they were sparkling with adoration.

“It is,” Clare said, and Katryna nodded her assent. “Does it go all the way to the bottom of the sea?”

“Aye. Humans live up above, everything else down below.”

“What else lives in it?” Katryna asked.

Caleeta ticked off on her fingers as she spoke. “Merfolk, fish, sharks, squids, wumblies, tumblies, water drakes, and the Sea Spirit and his people.”

Clare shot Katryna a confused look which she returned in earnest, but neither woman said anything.

“What,” Caleeta said, looking at them both in confusion, “you aren't going to ask about the wumblies and the tumblies? Everybody ask about the wumblies and the tumblies.”

Clare looked at Katryna for help, but none was forthcoming. “I...well, I figured you'd tell us if they were important...” She trailed off and shrugged helplessly.

Caleeta barked a laugh and slapped her thigh in a manner that was remarkably similar to Borbos. “You are funny!” she cried, jabbing her finger at Clare, and she laughed again. “No such thing as wumblies and tumblies. Is a joke we play on the greenbloods, yeah?”

Clare was having an annoyingly difficult time understanding what the woman was saying. Not
wanting to be rude, however, she pushed the frustration into the back of her mind. “The Sea Spirit,” Clare said in an attempt to change the subject. “What's that?”

“Ah,” said Caleeta with a nod. “Him. He be Borbos' greatest creation. Well, Beros', actually, but Borbos be Beros, so we just pretend like it was him that make it first. Much easier to talk about then, yeah?” She looked at Katryna and Clare for confirmation, and they nodded weakly. “He live on the very bottom with all his subjects. Nobody disturb him because he sleep most of the time. He be very old.”

“Ah,” said Clare after a notable silence had passed, which she took to mean that the explanation was complete. “So...what does he do? Except sleep, I mean.”

“Well, he dream the merfolk what to do, mostly. They be the caretakers of the ocean, and he be the one in charge of them. Borbos can't always be in the sea, so he have the Sea Spirit watch over it while him gone. Make sense, yeah?”

Clare nodded. She could have sworn she'd heard something about the Sea Spirit dreaming about merfolk, but she decided not to question Caleeta.
No need to give myself a headache.

“Hey,” Caleeta said suddenly, looking around, “where your man be?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your man Will. The Dragon King? You always be right next to him, but not now.” Caleeta looked around again for effect and shrugged. “Where he be?”

Clare felt her face redden, and she looked away. “I—don't know.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Caleeta open her mouth to ask another question, but before she could speak Katryna cleared her throat—very, very loudly—and the Islander woman closed her mouth with a snap.

“Right. Well, I be off, then.” Caleeta weaved away through the crowd and disappeared a moment later.

“Odd woman,” Katryna said. “I wonder if they're all like that over—”

“Katryna,” Clare interrupted without looking at her, “please, I know why you're here. I...I'm sorry. I know how you feel about Will. I didn't mean to hurt him.”

Katryna snorted, and Clare turned to her with a confused look. “Clare, listen, I'm not here to chastise you or beat the pretty out of you for upsetting my friend.” She shook her head and laughed. “Trust me, I'm not like that. If I get mad enough to actually do something to you, you won't know about it because you'll be dead.” She winked. “Promise. But really, that's not why I'm here.” She moved up next to Clare then and slipped an arm around her waist. “I'm here because I think I understand your problem, and I want you to know that you've got a woman friend who's here for you.”

Clare was struck well and truly speechless. She looked at Katryna, who stared back at her impassively. “I...” Clare was not sure what to say. “Thank you, Katryna, but I—”

“No buts,” Katryna interrupted. “You aren't listening, Clare. I am
here
for you, as a friend who understands, so talk to me.”

Clare's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
I'm in the sea! What a fitting analogy,
a secluded part of her mind yammered, but she  quashed it with a shake of her head. “I don't—I'm not sure—”

Katryna raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. “Are you really going to do this?” she asked, and her voice held a thinly veiled threat.
Talk to me,
it said,
or I
will
beat it out of you.
Clare swallowed audibly.

“I'm sorry,” she finally said. “I've never had a...woman friend. Not really. It's difficult to open up.”

There were nearly a thousand warriors riding atop the Leviathan, and the press of bodies was claustrophobic. Katryna seemed to sense this, and she steered Clare toward a break in the crowd and out toward the sea beast's tail end. Its segmented carapace undulated slowly up and down, creaking and groaning, and where it disappeared beneath the waves the water swirled and churned in a perpetual undertow.

A patch of mussels had taken root where they stood, and Clare crouched down to look at them. She ran her finger over one shiny black shell, and a little bubble of air sprouted from its tightly sealed mouth.
It brought back memories of her life in Dahoto—of going out in the early morning while the sky was grey and the air still cold and wet to pick mussels and oysters with her father. She smiled softly.

“He's a god,” Katryna said, her words lacking both tact and pretense, and Clare was jerked abruptly and unceremoniously back to all of her woes. “And you don't want to become like Asper.”

Clare's finger stopped, and she was silent and still for a time. “Yes,” she finally said in a soft voice. “I don't want to watch him stay the same while I get old.”

“But you do feel something for him.”

“Of course I do.”

Katryna knelt down in front of her, her hard brown eyes meeting Clare's emerald ones. “Then maybe you should tell him that.”

“Talk to him?” Clare asked. “After what I did to him in the Dark Forest? And after I...oh, spirits above...I slapped him...”

Katryna shrugged. “Why not? You apologized to him right before that, didn't you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“And was it that hard to do?”

Clare hesitated. “Well...no, not really, but still—”

“Sometimes,” Katryna interrupted, “it's better to do what your heart tells you to do than what your head does.”

Clare froze, remembering Borost's words several days before. “
Listen when your heart speaks, young lady, and never think twice about doing so.”

She looked at Katryna. “Everybody seems to be giving me the same advice,” she said softly. “But you didn't see Asper's face when Feothon told Will and I that she was a mortal. You didn't see the pain there, Katryna.” She shook her head and looked away, and her next words were little more than a whisper. “I don't want that.”

For a time the low hubbub of voices mingled with the constant rush of salty wind. Light sprays of sea water dappled Clare's cheeks in erratic bursts, and she lost herself in a daydream as she gazed out at the water rushing by, watching the sun play and sparkle along its surface. They were nearing the City now, and as they drew closer to the mismatched fleet of ships she could hear, very distantly, a ragged cheer rise from their crewmen.

“You know,” Clare said softly, and she gave a small, humorless laugh, “I...feh, never mind”

“What?”

She shook her head. “It's just...you know, after hearing all those stories from Serah, I thought...” She ran her fingers through her hair, and her next words were barely audible. “I thought I...might be the Phoenix Empress.” She laughed derisively.

“I did too,” Katryna said, and Clare slowly turned to look at her.

“You—what?”

Katryna shrugged. “We all did—well, Castor and I, anyway. I don't know about Hook. You know, the whole...” She indicated her tongue and made a gruesome face. “But the way you and Will look at each other, it was like...you had to be. The Phoenix Empress, I mean. Aren't they supposed to be absolutely bonkers over one another?”

Clare blushed. “I hadn't realized it was so obvious,” she mumbled.

“It is, but that's not the point.” She shook her head and sighed. “I truly, honestly thought you were the other half.”

“Me too,” Clare said. “But if I am,” she held up her maimed hand, “then why did this happen? And why haven't I gone through what Will did? I mean...I don't feel any different. I don't feel any different at all.” She gestured back to the writhing press of people. “And if you and Castor and I noticed it, then you'd think the Titans would have as well. But they haven't said anything.”

She looked up at Katryna, half-hoping the woman would have some profound words of wisdom to share. But, to her shock and disappointment, she was speechless.

“I, ah...” Katryna began, faltering. “I don't know what to say.” She put her hand on Clare's shoulder and squeezed it gently. “I'm...I'm very sorry.”

Clare did not respond. They were drawing closer to the armada, and the sailors' shouts were getting louder. Bells rang, sails flapped in the wind, and gulls screamed overhead as they veered clumsily through the air on their endless quest for food. It was, Clare realized, very much like Dahoto had once been. The thought made her homesick.

“We're almost there,” Katryna said quietly, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen. “You know, Clare, there was a time when I thought I didn't want to be with Castor because I was afraid I'd lose him in a fight. But you know what? I realized that I would rather spend every last one of my waking moments with him than live out the rest of my life wondering what it would have been like.”

“That isn't the same.”

“Why not?” Katryna gave Clare a hard look. “How is that
any
different?”

“You have the chance to grow old with Castor,” Clare said. “Will is
never
going to age. He will look exactly as he does now for the rest of his life.”

Katryna grinned. “I'd count that as a plus, myself.  And besides—you're the same age as him and you
look
the same age as well. I'll be happy to look half as good as you when I'm forty.”

Clare had no response ready, and she looked away.

“You know,” Katryna continued, “this conversation is starting to sound awfully materialistic. Are you worried he's going to set you aside for something younger once you start to wrinkle?” Clare studied the mussels intently and said nothing. “Ah,” Katryna said softly. “Then I think perhaps you don't deserve Will.”