Page 49 of Fateless

Halek lurched toward me, his jaw hanging at an odd angle, held in place by exposed tendons and strips of flesh. “Run, Sparrow,” he whispered through rotted teeth. “Run.”

Raithe stepped out of my doorway, chillingly graceful even in death. The hollow pits in his skull found me in the corridor, and his lips twisted in a ghastly smile.

I ran.

The halls of the strider were filled with corpses, reaching for me with bony hands, their eyes blank and staring. Drifts of sand lay in corners and along the edges of the walls, and my boots kicked up dust clouds, turning the air hazy and thick. My breath rasped, dry and gritty in my throat, and the overwhelming stench of decay made my stomach turn and my eyes water.

I reached the stairs, intending to go down and lose myself in the nooks and shadows of the lower decks. As I started down the steps, though, my heart lurched with terror. The bottom of the stairwell was choked with bodies, pressed together in a moaning, shambling horde. When they saw me, they howled and surged forward, clogging the cramped space even further. I turned and fled back up the stairs.

Raithe’s terrifying visage suddenly appeared, blocking the floor I had just left. I threw myself aside as his blade swept down, missing me by a hair. The metallic clank of steel against the wall echoed up the stairwell, sending a chill through my whole body. I dodged the dead kahjai and continued toward the upper decks of the strider.

Bursting through the door to the outside deck, I gasped, raising an arm to shield my face. Wind tore at me, shrieking in myears, scouring my flesh with sand. Past the railing, I couldn’t see anything through the swirling, raging sandstorm surrounding the deck. Just like when Kovass fell. I could hear sand beating the sides of the strider and ripping the canvas sails to ribbons.

A thump behind me made me glance back. Rotting faces and bony limbs pressed forward up the stairs, as if they were one terrible creature of heads and arms and limbs. My heart seized, and I staggered onto the deck.

Sand lashed my skin, ripping at my hair and clothes. The mob of corpses burst out of the stairwell, flooding onto the deck with moans and howls. They staggered as they stepped onto the deck, wind and sand scouring dead flesh from their bones, making them even bloodier and more skeletal. But they still shuffled toward me, uncaring of the pieces they were losing, their eyes blank with hunger.

Fateless.

Across the deck, past the horde of shambling corpses, a fifty-foot head rose slowly over the side of the vessel. It was made of sand, but even blurred and featureless, I recognized it immediately. The Deathless King, come to massive, terrifying life, opened depthless black eyes and gazed down at the tiny insects far below.

Come to me,Fateless.The giant’s lips didn’t move, but his voice echoed in the winds, everywhere around me. A hand the size of a cart rose over the deck, fingers clenching into a fist.You have no place in my new world. I will crush you like an ant beneath meand feast upon your life as youwither to dust. There is no escape.

The dead shambled closer, trapping me against the railing. The looming mass of the Deathless King towered over the ship. My heart roared, and my breath came in short, panicked gasps as I backed away. No escape. Nowhere to run. I would die here, torn apart by the bony fingers of the undead or crushed in the grip of the Deathless King.

The wooden railings pressed against my back, and the howl of the sandstorm echoed around me. Everywhere I looked, I saw death, a creeping tide that would eventually suffocate me.

I leaped onto the railing, dropping my weight to find my balance as the ship lurched and the winds tore at me. With the howling storm and raging sands, the Dust Sea was obscured from my vision, but I knew it was there, far, far below. What would be worse? To be ripped apart by a mob of undead, or to suffocate in the unforgiving waves of the Dust Sea? At least with the latter, I would choose how I died.

The mob was nearly upon me. The terrifying visage of the Deathless King leaned over the ship, raising its massive fist. I glanced once more down the side of the ship, gathering my shattered courage for the jump. It would be over quickly, I told myself. After that final gasp that filled my lungs with sand, there would be nothing.

And then Raithe’s horrifying figure lunged through the horde and grabbed me around the waist.

I shrieked, fighting in his grasp. I smelled the death that clung to him, felt the steely tendons locked around me as he dragged me from the edge, back toward the mob. Desperately, I twisted, pulled my dagger from its sheath and stabbed it at thecorpse’s face with all my might. He jerked his head back and grabbed my wrist with one hand, stopping the blade from slicing his cheek open.

“Sparrow, stop!”

His voice startled me; it sounded so normal. But his rotting, leering face loomed in my vision as he grabbed my other wrist, pulling me closer. I twisted my head away, fighting to get free, the blade of my dagger held helplessly between us.

“Sparrow, look at me!” He gave me a shake that jolted my head back. “You’re dreaming,” he went on as I staggered and my vision went fuzzy. His voice suddenly seemed to come from a great distance away. “This is a dream. Open your eyes. Wake up!”

I gasped and opened my eyes.

Raithe’s alarmed, haggard face filled my vision. Normal, living, unrotted. Panting, I looked around, searching for the horde of the dead. We were on the upper deck of the strider, a few feet from the railing that prevented a sharp plunge into the Dust Sea. The night was clear and still. The deck, save for the two of us, was empty.

“Sparrow.” Raithe’s voice shook a little. His fingers were still clamped tightly around my wrists, the blade of my dagger still gleaming in my hand. “Talk to me. Are you here?”

I started to shake. My knife dropped from my hand and clattered to the planks between us as I realized what had almost happened. How close had I been to dying, to leaping from the strider into the open arms of the Dust Sea?

My legs gave out beneath me. Nothing felt real. I sagged in Raithe’s grip, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Heknelt with me on the deck and drew me close, letting me feel the strength in his arms, the solid thump of his heart against mine. This was not a dream. This was real, and right now, no nightmares, not even the Deathless King, could touch me.

“You’re safe.” His voice was low and steady, soothing my fractured, spinning thoughts. “Breathe, Sparrow. I’ve got you.”

Gradually, my muscles unclenched, the shaking calmed, and my breath returned to normal. Raithe waited until the trembling had faded before his arms loosened and he shifted, gazing down at me. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I... it started as a nightmare,” I began, and to my relief, my voice was steady. “But it was one I’ve had before. And then I was alone on the ship, and everyone else was dead. But not the kind that stay dead—the kind that get up and come after you. Even you and Halek. You were all chasing me through the ship.

“I came up here,” I continued, feeling my heartbeat pick up again. “And I sawhim. The Deathless King. He was towering over the strider, staring right at me. He told me there was no escape, that I had no place in his world. And the dead were all here, reaching out for me. There was nowhere to go, except...”

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