The Blunt Reaper

The bridge stretched into darkness beyond the Eighty-Sixth Bastion.

Its woodwork had cracked in dozens of places, leaving gaps through which Mara could see the pale sand far below. Rook crossed without slowing, his coffin shifting against his back with every step while the heavy chains securing it gave the occasional metallic clink.

Mara followed close behind him. The last of the Bastion’s blue lanterns had already disappeared, yet the darkness ahead never became complete. A dim gray light hung over the bridge, weak and directionless, as though dawn were trapped somewhere behind the clouds and could not reach them.

After several minutes, the sand beneath the bridge began to disappear.

It did not end at a shoreline. The pale dunes simply faded beneath a gathering layer of fog until Mara could no longer tell what lay below them. The mist thickened as they continued, swallowing the bridge one section at a time. Soon, she could barely see more than a few paces ahead, and even Rook’s broad shape had become a dark silhouette carrying an even larger shadow upon its back.

Then she heard water.

A slow, low sound drifted through the fog. Water struck something wooden beneath them, retreated with a soft hiss, then returned. The rhythm followed them as they walked, accompanied by the occasional creak of timber somewhere below the stone bridge.

Mara looked over the edge. "Wasn’t there sand beneath us a moment ago?"

"There was."

"And now there’s water."

"Looks that way."

"That doesn’t bother you?"

"Most things bother me. I’ve learned to prioritize."

A dull blue light appeared through the fog ahead.

They approached it and found the bridge ending at a narrow wooden pier. The stone beneath their feet gave way to damp planks supported by thick beams that disappeared into black water. Every gentle wave caused the pier to groan, and the sound travelled along the wood beneath Mara’s boots.

A small boat waited at the far end.

It had been built from dark, weathered timber and repaired so many times that few of its planks appeared to belong to the original vessel. An old man sat near the middle with both hands folded over the top of a long wooden pole. His skin had the deep creases of someone who had spent more years squinting into the distance than speaking to people, while a thin gray beard fell across the front of his coat.

A blue lantern hung from one end of the boat, suspended from a crooked iron hook. Its light spilled across the water without penetrating more than a few feet beneath the surface.

The old man raised his head as they approached. His cloudy eyes passed over Mara before settling upon Rook.

"Haven’t seen you in a couple centuries."

Rook stopped at the end of the pier. "Was hoping you didn’t."

The old man’s mouth pulled into a faint smile. His attention moved toward Mara, then down to the pale chain connecting her wrist to the black Brand covering Rook’s arm.

"How did you even end up with that?"

"Long story."

"We got nothing but time." The old man shifted aside and gestured toward the boat. "Get on."

Rook removed the coffin from his back. The bottom struck the boat with a heavy thud, causing the hull to sink several inches and rattle against the pier.

The old man immediately leaned forward. "Easy. Don’t rattle it too much. They’ll come out if alerted."

Rook adjusted the coffin until it rested along the center of the boat. Its weight caused the vessel to lean dangerously to one side before slowly settling.

Mara remained on the pier. "They? Who’s they?"

The old man looked at her as if the answer should have been obvious. "Well, of course, Abominations."

"In the water?" she asked.

"This isn’t normal water. This is the same thing that makes Yama’s Blessing." Rook said.

Mara stared down at the black surface. The lantern’s reflection trembled across it, yet she still could not see what waited beneath.

"Why the hell are we travelling across memory-wiping waters?"

Rook stepped into the boat and sat beside the coffin. "Because it’s the only way forward. Also, this isn’t as concentrated. If you fall in and return in time, you recover your memories."

He glanced at the water.

"Unless you can’t swim, or forget how to."

Mara looked from him to the unstable boat. It was barely wide enough to hold the three of them and the coffin, and the wood appeared old enough to remember its time as a tree.

"This whole trip feels very suspicious."

"I told you, not worth it."

"I’ll see it to its end," she said confidently.

She stepped carefully from the pier. The boat shifted beneath her weight, forcing her to spread her arms until she regained her balance. Rook caught the side of her coat before she could fall, then released it the moment she was steady.

The old man watched her sit opposite Rook. "I like this new one. Far less scared than the other two you brought last time."

Mara looked at Rook. "So they made it through here?"

"One of them did," the old man replied.

The fog moved across the water behind him.

Mara waited for the rest of the answer, but none came. "Do I need to ask what happened to the other?"

Rook looked over the edge of the boat. "You don’t want to."

That response only made her want to ask more, but the old man had already risen. He planted the long pole against one of the pier’s beams and pushed. The boat separated from the wood with a quiet scrape before drifting into the fog.

The pier disappeared behind them almost immediately.

The old man guided the vessel by pressing the pole into the water and pushing against something hidden beneath the surface. Each movement carried them farther into the mist. There were no banks to follow and no visible landmarks. Mara could not even tell whether they travelled in a straight line.

She kept her voice low. "So what type of monsters or Abominations are in here?"

"The kind we don’t want to meet," Rook said. "Highly aggressive and sensitive to sound and vibration."

Mara glanced at the heavy coffin resting between them. "So we should remain quiet."

"Right now," the old man said, "it’s relatively safe. Not many Downers dare get too close to the shore. Once we hit the Red Tide, well, that’s a different story."