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Waking gradually, the shape of the world has returned. Looking down at his hands, Barnes sees the familiar callouses, the dusting of hair, the band of paler skin where the ring used to be, the thick pad of muscle between thumb and forefinger on his sword hand. Across the left hand a shallow scratch, and all his nails are filthy, souvenirs of yesterday’s work when he was inhabited by Meerk. His own body, then, leaning against a crate near the door of the magic box. The vibration of the ship has changed.
Against his shoulder, Carter, still but not asleep.
“Hey Carter.”
“Hey Barnes. Something’s up. Listen.”
Barnes stretches, briefly grips Carter’s leg where it’s stretched out next to his. Carter’s profile, in his peripheral vision, is as familiar as his own, more.
“Huh. Well. At least, with the bodies.”
There is suddenly noise from above them, Zolf’s voice from the deck, stomping.
Carter turns his head and they are face to face, their own faces for the first time in days. His eyes are wide, and Barnes reaches up, taps his cheek with a cupped palm.
“Go. Go see.”
Carter leaps up, takes a moment for a full-body shake, reaches into his pack for belt and sheaths, taps his pockets. The flurry of movement stills in that moment that Barnes knows is a coiling. With a glance, Carter is in motion, slips past Cel to push open the door and bound to the stairs and the deck.
“Cel. Hey. Cel.” Barnes stands, steps to where Cel is standing at the door, touches their shoulder.
Cel turns, their eyes wide, exhausted and frantic. Then awareness, a sharpening.
“Barnes? In Barnes?”
“Yeh. We made it. You did it.”
“Maybe, not sure yet, Zolf is yelling. But anyway, the bodies. You and Hamid and Azu so far.”
“And me.” Earhart is at the door, plucking at her jacket as if she is adjusting the fit of her skin. “Get everyone up. Barnes, with me.”
Barnes squeezes Cel’s arm, follows the captain.
On deck, Earhart rushes to the wheel where Zolf is still shouting and stomping. Barnes scans the deck, which is all different colors, and there are trees. The bar is gone. Carter is stood at the port rail, looking forward.
“The starboard engine is gone, just gone,” says Zolf. Which would explain why the ship feels different under his feet.
Then Hamid is there, with Skraak, and Azu, all braced against the wind, trying to see into the mist.
After sending Hamid and Skraak out to scout, Earhart shoots Barnes a look, with eyebrows. Barnes turns to his left and shouts. “Carter!”
Carter is in motion, toward him, and Barnes jerks his chin toward the bow, signals look.
Carter shifts, almost reversing, already moving to the bow. Barnes knows he is humming the tune that lets him sense more, see further.
The deck is shifting, dipping to starboard, and the pitch of the engines shifts again, a sudden thrumming whine and for a moment it seems they might stabilize. Barnes runs forward, standing next to Carter, rushing through mist.
Carter is scanning, the way he does, braced against the tilt of the deck and the wind. Barnes reaches with his left hand and holds the back of Carter’s neck. They hear shouting, Zolf’s direction, Earhart’s orders, Hamid’s shrill voice.
Suddenly the ship dips, as if it’s sliding down from the crest of a monstrous wave, plunging further into the mist, but down.
“Hold on,” they hear Zolf shout.
There is a brief lift, then another plunging dip, and the prow breaks through the mist layer.
“Fuck! The ground!” yells Carter, and rears back against his hands that grip the rail, against Barnes’ hand, and there is a rending scrape beneath them that slews the ship to starboard, the deck pitching, another grasping scrape, again, the unmistakable sense of foundering, of crashing, and they run aground, aground, braced hard, the noise deafening, and they might just slide to a stop, beached against the mountain. Then the rocks, and they are wrecked, they are thrown. There is so much snow in the air it feels like water, flying through water, alone.
Barnes tumbles through the mist and the snow as if a wave has tumbled him, and he could, he might just land, tumble in the snow, holding his breath.
Slammed, spiked, stopped.
And then silence.
~
Barnes is in one of the evergreen trees. The impact knocked him out, caught by the upper branches, then he slid down until a lower branch, a stub, stabbed through him, bursting through his flesh and stopping him, wedged and pinned between the spearing stub and the trunk.
Hooked, penetrated, with each slight swaying creak, pain.
Gaffed.
Can’t.
Breathe.
Move.
See.
Rough bark and slick blood. About a foot of wicked point, spar-sized, splintered. No grip, under his hands, wrapping around this obscenity, this invasion, this spear through him, just over his right hip, through the flesh of his belly, caught on those muscles, gaffed.
Can’t.
~
Sense of warmth, light, pink behind his eyelids and oh gods it hurts.
His side is clenching where the branch is through him, tightening against the bark.
He can manage only a huff of breath, the warmth swirling through him, the pain draining away, but hooked, still.
“Stay still.”
“Uhng.” A breath. Azu. Healing. “Ooohh. Yeh. Yeh, yeh, that’s fine. How we doin?”
Opens his eyes, sees branches, sky above. Turns, seeking the ground, finds only bloody stone, wreckage.
“Oh no.”
Can’t.
~
“Hey, Barnes, hey.” Still in the tree. Pinned. Gaffed. Luckily the pain is a remote ache, an echo of the piercing agony.
Someone has lifted his head and shoulders, is braced beside him somehow, arm around his shoulders, supporting his head.
Kiko. From the crew.
“Hey. Kiko.” Can’t. Breathe.
“Hold on mate, we have to get you out of here.” Kiko calls down. “Azu! He’s awake.”
“Barnes, oh Barnes!” Azu’s voice comes up from below. “We’re getting you out of there.”
“Hey. Open your eyes,” says Kiko. “I’m really sorry but we need you awake for this, and it’s going to be pretty terrible.”
“Hmm. What.” His voice is still no more than a breath, just not enough air.
“The branch is still stuck through you, and we have to get you off it so we can get you down. And Azu stopped the bleeding, but can’t do any more healing while it’s in you.”
“Oh.” Breath. “Yeah.” Breath.
“Give me your hand. Right hand.” Kiko reaches over, guides Barnes’ hand to a branch above him. “Grab with the other hand, too.”
“Sleep.”
“No, you can’t sleep.”
“No.” Breath. “Hand’sleep.” Barnes can’t feel his left arm where it’s been pinned, wedged against the tree trunk.
“Oh. Gotcha. Fuck, Barnes, you poor bastard.”
The pain is no longer remote. It is a rasping tug, somewhere he shouldn’t ever feel anything.
Kiko cranes to look around the trunk. “What about your legs? Can you brace your feet on something?”
Barnes swings his left leg, brushing it up against the trunk. The top of his foot bumps against a branch and he manages to lift his leg the extra inches to plant his foot on top of the branch.
“Huh. Foot.” His breath comes in shallow pants, heart pounding. “And. Huh. Bleedin'.” He feels drips sliding along his side, across his belly.
“That’ll be next. First,” says Kiko. “You push with your foot. Pull with your arm. I will push from under. One shot, up and out. Azu is down there.”
“Hnng.” Breath.
“Azu, ready.” Kiko’s grip tightens around his shoulders. “One. Two. Three.”
Barnes arches upward from where his foot is braced, pulls, all the breath going out of him from the dragging, the tearing, feeling the splintered spear inside him, scraping. If he had any breath he would scream.
“Keep going, almost there, oh fuck,” says Kiko. “Azu! He’s really bleeding.”
“Pull hard, or push, whatever, Barnes, fuck,” and it is out of him, the point pressing against his back as Kiko levers him backwards, until he is more or less sat in the fork where he had been wedged.
“Now Azu!”
The warmth gushes through him, pouring into the hole in his side and rushing into all the hurting places. Barnes gasps, breathes hard as the pain seems to evaporate. A shudder runs through him as he is healed, relieved, freed.
“Oh. Yeh. That’s all right.”
They are not very far up, so Barnes is able to clamber down, Kiko following.
Azu steps in front of him and puts her hands on his shoulders. “That should be enough, even with that wound. It might be sore, and there will be a scar. Me or Zolf can heal the soreness, just tell us.”
Barnes touches his side through the rent in his coat, the blood already tacky, a gnarled circle above his hip, in front and behind.
Kiko wraps a blanket around his shoulders, half-hugs him, then picks up her pack. “Azu, I’m going to help the others.”
“All right. I’ll see you later,” says Azu, her eyes following Kiko for a moment, then returning to look into Barnes’ face. “Barnes. There’s more.” She steps aside, and behind her he sees the rock, sharp edges above the snow, bloodied.
Carter - Carter’s body - is flung on top of the boulder, as if he stretched out to bask in the sun, as if he would ever be that still. His face is turned toward them, toward the tree, that mouth, broken against the stone. One arm stretched out, reaching, or fending off. Mercifully his eyes are closed. The hair behind his ear, matted, streaming, his coat a ruin.
“Oh,” on a breath out. A breath in, Azu’s hands still on his shoulders. Can’t.
Zolf’s voice. The First Mate, gathering the ship.
Azu turns him, points him away from the tree, toward the ship, away from the rock. “I have to find Hamid. Go to Zolf.”
Barnes reaches up and squeezes one of Azu’s hands, looks up into her face. They step off in different directions, Barnes heading toward the brightness away from the tree, away from the rock. Parts of the ship are just visible, gleaming in the morning sun at the edge of the clearing. As he walks toward the sound of Zolf’s voice, to his right is a splash of color. Green, purple, the burnished blue metal of the stabilizers. And red. Wilde, wrecked. Red, everywhere. Can’t.
~
Barnes joins the cluster of people around Zolf. By the way his eyes pause, he knows Zolf has been waiting, watching for him. Barnes’ nod gets an answering nod from Zolf.
“OK, one more, just everyone breathe for a minute. Grab hands with the people next to you. It’s going to be a long day.”
Cel slips in next to him, grabs his hand. Kiko catches his other hand. Together they stand, breathing, and Zolf holds his hands over them all. There is warmth, and healing, and a sense of rest.
Cel wraps their arms around him in an incredibly tight hug. “Barnes, I’m so sorry, I’m glad you’re not dead. We have to set this up, get a place ready.” Cel turns away, goes to where the fire has started to catch, bends to pick up a metal pole, a coil of rope.
Kiko hands him a canteen, and watches as he sips, then gulps from it. As he hands it back, Zolf is stood with them. He takes a drink, reaches out his hand to Barnes. They shake, gripping forearms, an old signal, the resolve of their calling. However disconnected they may be from the original charter, it still flows under their sense of responsibility, any shared purpose.
Zolf nods again, steps back, hands Barnes a coat. It is camel hair, luxurious. “Yours is ruined,” says Zolf. “He won’t need it.” Barnes shrugs into the coat, keeping the blanket draped around his neck.
“We need to, uh, take care of them now,” Zolf says. Barnes nods, follows.
Together they carefully tug and lift Wilde’s body away from the jagged shard and carry him toward the clearing, Zolf under his shoulders, Barnes with hands under his knees. There is a rug set in the clearing, and Cel is rigging a canopy.
They lay Wilde on the rug, then walk away from the clearing, toward the tree, toward the rock.
Barnes kneels, and Zolf lifts Carter’s body into his arms, so still, so slight.
The kobolds have brought Sassraa and Meerk’s bodies to the clearing and laid them on the rug. The kobolds kneel at the edge of the rug, not just on the side where their kin rest but all the way around.
Barnes lifts his head, tips his chin, the signal all this time for Carter to step to his side, ready. Out of the corner of his eye, Barnes sees only snow, only trees in the distance. Just out of sight, the rock.
A moment later Siggif steps up to Zolf, and Barnes hears Zolf ask him to make sure someone stands vigil with the kobolds, make sure they have water, whatever they need. Barnes catches Siggif’s eye, taps his chest and points to the canopy. He will stand with them, at least for now.
Cel is grilling Zolf about resurrection magic, about what it would take to bring them back. “I’m not strong enough,” says Zolf. “If I could do it, I would know, and I’d be doin’ it.”
We knew, we all knew, he says, and here we are. Barnes grips the tent pole. Where else would I be?
~
The crew around the fire look up, and Barnes turns to see Azu tromping back into the clearing from the treeline. Hamid follows behind, stepping into her footprints through the deep snow. As she comes, there is a beating rush of sound and a huge bird, an eagle, lands in one of the trees right at the edge of the clearing.
Barnes looks back toward the fire. Friedrich and Siggif are already up, already moving. Friedrich picks up a massive piece of firewood from the pile. Barnes reaches for his sword, inhales sharply in the moment it takes to remember it’s safe, still on the ship, not lost.
Cel comes out to meet Azu and Hamid, right in the open.
Barnes steps off, toward where they are standing, right in the open, picking up Friedrich and Siggif with a gesture, not as if they’d be able to do anything about that thing.
There is another rushing percussion, the eagle dropping from the tree with wings spread, and Barnes runs. In just a step he sees it land, too close, he won’t get there. He is not fast enough. None of them could get there. None of them left. In his second step, the wings are furled, there is a complicated disturbance, it is no closer, they may be able to intercept. In his third step, it is a person, and he skids to a stop and throws his hand up to stop the others as they come up, flanking. A person, palms out, and Cel is already talking. Earhart comes up behind him, following the track of packed snow to join the conversation. Barnes falls in behind her, knows the others will shift themselves between them and the rest of the camp.
The conversation is in some low and lilting language, urgent and serious. Earhart pulls Cel aside, then more conversation, and the person walks away, back to the treeline. About halfway back to the treeline, there is mist, or just something his eyes can’t really see, then that brushing thump of wingbeats. The bird is gone.
Barnes can only meet Zolf’s raised eyebrow with a shrug. Cel, Azu, Hamid, and Earhart are arguing, discussing they would call it, and then. Then. “They can help us bring them back,” Cel says. Barnes wonders if his face looks something like Zolf’s just then, wonders if the beat of silence is the same pause of blinding white noise.
Cel breaks his reverie, hugs him again. “I have to go to the ship, see what we can do, what’s left. I will, I can see you, will see you after that, OK?” And Cel is off, striding off with Earhart toward the ship. Azu and Zolf head toward the fire, and Hamid heads back toward the trees.
Barnes follows Hamid, tightness in his side, not trying to catch up, pretty sure Hamid doesn’t even know he’s there. The going is easier for the halfling where there’s not as much snow under the trees, and he follows the perimeter, catching up to Skraak across the clearing, about opposite to the ship. Barnes hangs back, stretches around the new scar, the sense of a knot over his hip. Sensing the discussion is about over, Barnes sets out through the snow, straight back toward the fire from where they are, breaking a trail for Hamid and Skraak. His path intercepts the landing-place of the eagle, the snow brushed away, the pattern of feathers.
“They can help us bring them back.”
~
Hamid and Skraak catch up as they get to the more packed-down area. Skraak heads straight for the kobolds who are still holding vigil, at least that’s what Barnes would call it. Someone has laid cloth over the still forms, some bright patterned silk, and though it is daylight, there are torches at the corners of the rug.
Hamid grips his hand, looking up at him. “Thanks for the trail,” he says. “Let’s make sure everybody eats. I’ll organize the food if you’ll make sure there’s enough water. There’s certainly enough snow to melt into as much water as we need.” He squeezes Barnes’ hand, heads off toward the ship.
There’s already a big pot of half-melted snow balanced next to the fire, and another still mostly snow. When Hamid and Zolf come back from the ship, Barnes helps to set up the big tripod over the fire, then takes trip after trip to the other side of the clearing to bring snow to the fire.
Azu is at the fire after the second trip. Maybe third. She puts an arm around his shoulder, hands him a cup of water. Somehow she both radiates calm and vibrates with excitement, keeps touching the place at her throat where the Heart pendant nestles. Barnes drinks, smiles as he hands back the cup, picks up the pots, heads out.
Cel is at the fire after the fifth trip. Maybe seventh. They hug him, and the crackle of his vertebrae makes them both smile. “Are you warm enough, Barnes? I know we all have that protection, that Endure Elements, which is great, and you have that amazing coat, which looks very stylish and also very warm.” Barnes just lets Cel talk at him, feels their kind interest, an echo, “They can help us bring them back.”
“All right, Cel, let the man eat.” Zolf’s voice at his shoulder, a mug of soup. “I’ve cast a spell on them,” Zolf says softly. “It’s like the glass coffin in the fairy tale, keeps them perfectly preserved, so there’s no hurry while we figure out this eagle-person thing.”
Something caught in his chest unhooks. He hands the mug back to Zolf, picks up the pots, heads out.
~
After the eleventh trip, or maybe the thirteenth, he detours to the ship, gets his sword and his pack. He digs into Carter’s pack for a clean shirt. He opens Wilde’s leather satchel and finds a clean shirt for him, too. He stops in the galley for clean rags. Back at the fire, he fills one of the pots with warmed water, then kneels on the rug and cleans the blood from Carter’s face and neck. He takes off the belts and sheaths, uses one of the daggers to cut off first Carter’s shirt, then the tatters of Wilde’s. At some point Earhart is there, too. She grabs his shoulder, holding him still for a moment, unwraps the scarf from around her neck and uses the soft wool to wipe his eyes. “Steady, Barnes,” she says, and then helps him to finish, to dress them and lay them down. He takes up the pots, and dumps the bloody water outside the perimeter, under a tree where there is no snow to stain.
~
The eagle comes back after the seventeenth trip. Maybe twentieth. Azu, Hamid, and Cel go into the clearing to meet the eagle person - Sohra, Cel says. Barnes waves toward the ship until he sees Earhart’s answering wave, then ladles out another mug of soup. He stands at the edge of the rug, not an arm’s length from Carter’s feet, looking out into the clearing where the group is talking again, more, seeing only a blob of color against the bright smear of snow.
Now that he isn’t walking, there is a sense through his feet of energy, not movement exactly, as if an avalanche is rumbling down one of the mountains just visible past the trees. Then again. Barnes shifts his stance to balance his weight evenly, solidly against the ground. Again, now a deep vibration, as if the avalanche is pouring toward them in a slow, pulsing flood. One of the kobolds stands up, ears swiveling, then settles at Skraak’s hiss.
The eagle-person is crouched, one hand on the ground, then Azu and Cel and Hamid. Out in the forest, north, a flock of birds beats into the air. With the next rumbling impact, there’s a swirl in the mist, still far off in the forest. With the next, something huge at the edge of sight, and the ground perceptibly shakes. There is the rushing sound of something impossibly huge coming toward them, and then something crashes at the edge of the clearing. And then silence.
When the plumes of snow settle, it is as if a huge tree has fallen to the earth, but not a trunk, a leg, with a gigantic paw. Hamid’s yelp is not the only sound of surprise in the camp, the silence soon filled with chatter.
Zolf leaves the group, trudges toward the canopy and the fire. “Gather up,” he half-shouts, since everyone is already nearby. “The Ursans, the people that live around here, are going to take us somewhere, so we can do the, thing,” he gestures at the bodies. “Grab your pack and gather up, quick as you can. Use the latrine if you need it, fill your canteen, get ready to go.”
As he is speaking there’s a new sound, a familiar creaking, the sound of pulleys and ropes in wind. Sohra and the others have stepped further away from the giant paw, and by the time the huge platform breaks through the mist they are just beyond where the edge settles. Barnes follows his snow-gathering path one more time, makes sure everyone is gathered. There is a place prepared in the center of the platform, and they lay the bodies there, under their bright shrouds.
“That will be fine, I’ll still be going to the ship, ” says Zolf, responding to some clarification from the eagle-person. Sohra. He grips Barnes’ arm on his way, then he and Earhart walk off to the ship. Barnes is the last to step up, nods to Sohra. He stands in the center, near the low bier, catches the eyes, one by one, of the crew members distributed around the platform, nods to Sohra again. She closes her eyes, and after a moment he feels the ropes tighten and the platform rises.
As they ascend, Barnes quickly adjusts to the slightly swaying, yawing motion. The crew tells people to sit, then sits themselves, except Kiko in her balanced stance and Friedrich, using one huge arm for balance. Cel is telling Hamid something, something exciting apparently, the sound of their voices muffled as the platform rises into the mist, the trampled camp and maimed ship disappearing below them. When they rise above the mist the air is clearer, the sun bright but not burning, and the city looks like a painting. Barnes’ attention narrows, overwhelmed, dampening the torrent of Cel’s description and Hamid’s exclamations. As the giant crane lowers the platform to abut what serves as a dock, he maintains his place in the center, letting Sohra orchestrate the stretchers, the disembarking, leading them into the city. He is the last to step off the platform, following them into the narrow street.
Barnes doesn’t count turns, just follows, looks around. People step aside, smile, then move on. There are children’s shouts, laughter, faces that are foxes, goats, the glossy green of holly. It is beautiful, a fantasy, somewhere utterly removed and different.
“Hey there Barnes, all right?” Zolf grabs his elbow. The familiar voice is enough to bring Barnes back, and he nods, straightens, inhabits himself. “We all made it, even the ship,” says Zolf. “Guess we’ll see what’s next.”
~
Approaching what feels like the center of the city, there is another huge dock, this one serving as a plaza or platform for the large circular building in its center. Sohra leads them up to the doors, then stops. The stretchers are set down, and as the crew bunches up around Sohra and the stretchers, Barnes keeps walking until he is stood next to Carter. Zolf is next to Wilde, and the kobolds are clustered around the other two stretchers.
Sohra explains about the guides. Zolf has Wilde, of course, and Cel will help with the kobolds. When Azu asks if he wants to go get Carter, he manages a long breath, gets past the desperate, selfish moment.
“Can I have a word, Azu?” She leans down. He has to give Carter the best chance, the best chance to come back. Or not.
“I would, normally, but, it occurs to me that we’re dealin' with life and death, and I can’t help thinkin' it might be a better benefit for someone with more familiarity in this area to step in. I don’t like to ask. But.”
Azu’s understanding is a breathed, “Oh.”
“I worry that I’m not fit for this.”
I’m not fit to let him go.
“Carter needs the best shot he has. The closest thing to spiritual I got was one time I got really drunk and looked at the stars. It’s not. Not. Not really a thing I’ve engaged with. You know.”
Azu nods, shakes hands.
“I am honored you would trust me with your... friend.” He hears the question. Won’t answer while Carter’s life might depend on the answer. Can’t.
“Yeah. Sure.”
He kneels by the stretcher, brushes Carter’s hair off his forehead, traces one eyebrow, then the other, touches each closed eye, the healed scrape along his jaw. He presses his cupped hand against Carter’s face, so still, then lays his hand on Carter’s chest, where his heartbeat should be. Something touches his bent knee, and he looks up into Zolf’s kind face, takes the proffered hand to get up.
~
Azu smiles and waves as they all go in, and they are gone, out of his sight.
A nudge from Earhart, and the ones left outside turn away, moving into the timbered plaza. Hamid settles with the kobolds about halfway between the doors and the edge of the palisade, catching Barnes’ eye. He nods back, will keep an eye out. They all will, distributed around the plaza, watching and waiting. Barnes tips his head, knows before the gesture is finished that the corner of his vision is empty.
Barnes sits on the bench at the edge of the plaza, able to view the door, the kobold group, and most of the plaza. He rubs at his side, shifts his sword to lie across his lap. Once he is still, he can feel the motion of the city, the massive rocking steps of the bear. There’s something else, maybe the wind, a low hum at the edge of awareness. He tries to stay awake. Can’t.
Earhart paces from one group to another. Sometimes she pauses, and Kiko or one of the others takes a stroll. Once Barnes is asleep, one of them is always near him, changing off as they patrol. As the hours pass and the chill deepens, he sleeps, still.
The Awakened encircle the plaza, humming, and frost creeps out from the ceremonial building. The movement of Hamid and the kobolds wakes him, and the humming seems to buoy him from sleep into waking, from the comfort of a dark sea to the droning harmonies. And faces, his Captain, his friends, the ones who are left.
~
Barnes squints against the brightness of ice and the whirling frost-spout, expecting to hear roaring wind or water, hearing only the humming, feeling it vibrate against his body and through the decking up through his feet. Just when he’s not sure he can stand it for another moment, it breaks, like a wave tipping over into foam.
Release, or relief, ripples through the gathered crowd, across the plaza. Kiko, standing behind the bench but facing outward, puts her hand on his shoulder, squeezes. He reaches up and squeezes back. Earhart taps his knee as she goes by on her next circuit, and the others raise a hand or nod. Hamid and the kobolds are half again as close to him as before, settled again, the frost retreating. The humming ebbs away, and quiet seeps in, not silence, just the calm murmur of people, breezes, wind chimes.
There’s a clattering bang from the building, something metallic, then the scraping grind of the doors opening. Skraak, hunched, furious, pushes through the door, stomps along the side of the building. Barnes stands as Hamid leaps up, steps, stops, then rushes forward when Cel comes out. Barnes buckles his sword belt, steps forward to stand where the kobolds are still knelt. There is sound from the building, laughter or weeping, Cel and Hamid still talking.
Then Zolf comes through the door, straight past them toward the kobolds. His face is solemn, but the clench of his jaw is determination, not grief. Barnes gulps a breath, holds it, waits for Zolf to look up, to give some sign. Hamid runs up to Zolf’s side, and they stop, Hamid gripping Zolf’s arm with his hands gone claws. Zolf pats Hamid’s shoulder, turns him gently and they continue, ten steps away, five.
Can’t.
Zolf looks up then and startles a little, eyes wide, starts to speak, then just lays his hand on his chest, over his heartbeat, nods.
Barnes breathes as if he has broken the surface.
The door opens wider and Azu steps out, starts walking into the plaza, Carter behind her. He pats Azu on the back and walks past, seeking. Barnes steps into the open space, ten steps, five steps, stopped. Gently, Barnes rests his hand on Carter’s chest, where his heart is beating. Carter puts both of his hands over Barnes’ hand, leans in to touch Barnes’ forehead with his own. Barnes reaches up with his other hand, combs into Carter’s white hair, coarser now, curves around the solid shape of his skull.
Then Azu is hugging them. The crew crowds around, and Carter looks panicked, then just blank. Barnes looks at Azu, who just changes the way she’s standing and makes space around them, arm around Carter’s shoulders. “It’s all right,” she says, to everyone. “He just woke up, it’s just hard,” walking them back toward the ceremonial building. Carter seems to wake as they walk, turns his head, smiles at Barnes. He seems content, Azu’s arm still around his shoulders as they join the gathering at the door.
Cel is there, distractedly rubs Carter’s white hair. “I’m going, to help with the, that.” They point at the door. Then for some reason they rub Barnes’ head, too, then head into the building.
“The others,” says Azu. “Wilde and Sassraa are all right, just not awake. Meerk didn’t come back.” Carter gets that blank look, makes eye contact again when Barnes grabs his hand. Zolf comes through the door, followed by attendants with stretchers, Wilde and Sassraa. To Barnes’ eye, Wilde is transformed, not just white haired, but healed of the terrible scar on his face, and serene. Sassraa has white horns, but if there are other changes he can’t tell. He looks at Carter’s face, and the scrape on his jaw is gone, along with all of the other dings and nicks that must have been there but are now completely smoothed away. “There’s going to be something for Meerk tonight, so we can just rest until then.”
~
They join Zolf and the small procession. Azu lets Carter go with one last squeeze and walks with Zolf next to the stretchers. Carter and Barnes walk shoulder to shoulder, this time, like so many times. They walk out of the plaza and around a corner to a two-story building that turns out to be a big bunkhouse-style inn. There’s a dining area that takes up most of the ground floor, with several big rooms full of beds. Zolf and Azu follow the attendants with the stretchers into the downstairs bunkroom.
Barnes and Carter go into the dining room, where there are large and small tables. A long counter is set with bread and fruit and cookies, with pitchers of water and kettles for tea warming over candles. Over the rest of the afternoon the rest of the crew wanders in, until just about everyone is gathered.
Around sunset, a light dinner is brought in, hot pastries with different fillings. When they finish it is full dark, and they follow the attendants again who carry Wilde and Sassraa back to the plaza.
Stepping onto the decking, Carter looks to Barnes in his same manner, if not with exactly the same face, and when Barnes nods left, Carter steps off. Barnes heads in the opposite direction. They will almost cross at the other side, looping back and cutting through to meet back at the start.
“Hey Barnes. Nothing to report.”
“Hey Carter. All right. Good.”
~
After the pyre has burned down, they go back to the bunkhouse, and it already feels like the ship. In the downstairs bunkroom, Wilde is in the last bunk, with Zolf sitting next to him. Earhart’s pack is on the bunk nearest the door on one side, and Barnes has the bunk nearest the door on the other. When Earhart comes in, Carter is already asleep in the next bunk over from Barnes, who is sat on his bunk, taking his boots off. It’s taking a long time, because he is exhausted, and because he keeps stopping, watching Carter’s slow breaths.
Earhart steps over and grips his arm. “I’m so glad,” she says. “It would have been bad, breaking up this team. Take care of him, all right?”
“Thanks, Captain. It would. Have been bad, I mean. I will.”
“Good.”
“Captain. Do you think,” Barnes starts, stops. Inhales. “Do you think they might make them stay?”
“They can’t make us do anything,” says Earhart. “I promise.”
~
Before dawn, Barnes wakes, on the rug between the bunks. Carter is sprawled next to him in just sleep pants, his skin warm where Barnes' arm is slung across his belly. He hears quiet voices, Zolf's rumble, and Wilde's unmistakable thrum. He sees their legs as they walk between the rows of beds toward the door. Tugging the quilt closer around himself and tucking his feet closer to Carter's warm leg, he drifts back to sleep.
~
Breakfast is both completely typical and about as strange as it could be. Barnes is sitting next to Cel, Carter across from them. At a small table, Zolf is as relaxed as Barnes has ever seen him, sitting with Earhart and Wilde. The kobolds have taken over one of the other large tables, Azu and Kiko and the rest of the crew at the other. Barnes is pushing a bit of egg around with the last bit of toast, looking at Carter through his eyelashes and thinking about how warm his skin felt.
“So, Barnes,” says Cel, “How does it feel?”
“Huh. What?” Can Cel read his mind, or did they just see him looking and take a stab?
“To be back in your own body. It looks good on you,” says Cel.
“What? Yeah, good. And, um, you too?” Barnes is completely blindsided. Carter, of course, thinks it’s hilarious.
Cel is saying something about swimming, seems to be waiting for him to answer.
“So we’ll go,” he starts.
“Underwater!” Cel finishes. “That’s what we’re calling it.”
Carter is giggling so hard he’s falling off the bench. From the Captain’s table there’s a snort from Zolf, and Wilde gives a little finger wave. Even the dragon-types are involved, Hamid outright grinning, and Sassraa’s white horns seem to vibrate.
“Yeah, all right.”
He is never going to live this down. If Cel is serious, though, it could very well be worth it.
~
The breakfast goes on for hours, but finally everyone is getting up, stacking their dishes, wandering out into the city. Barnes is going to the ship with Earhart and Zolf.
“What should I do?” asks Carter.
“You should do whatever you want,” Barnes answers.
Carter goes still, then grins, as if caught by surprise, caught by some particular happiness.
“I might circumnavigate the bear,” he says. Still smiling, he touches Barnes on the chest, over his heart.
“Good. That's good.”