ItCP37

## Chapter 37

**Chapter 37** of **Into the Crooked Place** focuses on **Karam**.

## **Full Version**

IT WAS MIDNIGHT WHEN Saxony brought a bottle of Cloverye, three glasses, and Tavia to the front carriage where Karam was trying to sleep. Karam eyed the bottle warily, because it was most definitely Wesley’s, and Tavia even more so, because she took a glass and poured the first drink with far too much angst.

A full hour soon passed and the seasickness Karam had still not gotten used to was replaced with another kind of nausea.

Karam knocked her glass against Saxony’s and tipped her head back.

The wind had quieted, and though Arjun was on hand every now and again to keep the seas in check, they were passing across the final stretch of Ejm Voten with little hassle. The phantoms had faded into the wind they were born from, and in a matter of days this whole thing would be over. One way or another.

Karam wasn’t quite sure how she felt about dying.

She faced the possibility each day she stepped into the Crook’s fighting ring, but this was different. Whatever happened, things were going to change, and either way they might not change in anyone’s favor. Karam at least hoped to get a few good punches in before that.

“No more for you,” Saxony said, pulling the bottle out of Tavia’s hand.

The busker made a grab for it, but Saxony looked down at her admonishingly.

Tavia slumped against the headrest. “I don’t get it,” she said.

“You’re about ready to keel over,” Saxony said. “You’re cut off.”

“Not that,” Tavia said. “Your regrets.” Her head shot up and she pointed accusing fingers at Karam and Saxony. “You both got to see your families, but my muma was nowhere. All I got was that old bastard underboss.”

Saxony brought her lips to the bottle. “I always thought the old underboss was a looker,” she said. Tavia gave her a blank stare and so Saxony poured a drop of Cloverye into her glass, like a reward. “Sorry. Shitty joke.”

The two of them clinked their glasses together and Tavia had to tip her head so far back to get the tiny amount of liquid inside that she damn near toppled over.

“Count yourself lucky,” Karam said, placing a steadying arm on the busker’s shoulder. “It was almost worse that I was able to see my pehta. It brought back every awful feeling.”

She clutched her father’s pendant, grateful that he was with her on this journey, even just in spirit. Karam would show him a legacy to be proud of, where their people helped protect Crafters and bring true peace to the realms.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Tavia said.

“Do not be sorry. Be ready. When we get to the island, we will kill the Kingpin together.”

Tavia held up her barren shot glass. “I’ll drink to that.” She knocked the empty glass against the bottle in Karam’s hand and turned to Saxony. “Tell me killing him in the consort’s mind was satisfying.”

Saxony laughed. “Second time better be a charm.”

Karam hoped so too.

The Kingpin drawing a breath beyond this battle was not an option, not after what he had done in Granka. He wouldn’t be content to take revenge out on them if he survived. He’d go after their families, their cities, and their entire realm. There was no stopping a madman with an army and a cause.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Saxony asked.

“Only if it’s dirty,” Tavia said.

Karam clipped her on the back of the head.

“When this is all over and I get my sister back, I still won’t be happy.”

“There’s just no pleasing some people,” Tavia said.

Saxony nodded, like that was probably true. “I’ll have to leave Creije to help my sister ascend to Liege, and for everything I hate about that place, I cherish something too.”

She looked at Karam and Tavia in turn.

“Is this your way of saying you love us?” Tavia asked. “Because that’s really corny.”

Saxony scrunched up her nose. “Shut up,” she said.

They laughed as the wind howled a little stronger outside, and Saxony conjured a flame in the palm of her hand to keep them warm. They gathered around her like a campfire, the Cloverye burning their lips as they forgot their glasses and passed the bottle between them.

Karam looked to Saxony, who she’d loved and lost and then loved again. She looked to Tavia, who she liked at least one out of every four times she saw her.

She hoped neither of them died.

Even if Karam had to do so in their place, she hoped they would make it out of this battle. For Saxony to return to Rishiya, and for Tavia to go wherever her heart took her, and for them both to be safe and free.

If nothing else was changed by this war, Karam at least wanted that.

“To killing our enemies first,” she said, in a toast.

Tavia raised the bottle. “To the realms not ending.”

Saxony grinned, wide and beautiful. She grinned in a way that made Karam feel weak in her knees and so strong in her heart.

“To family,” Saxony said. “New and old. Blood and bond.”

She took the bottle from Tavia and raised it above them all.

And then the train lurched violently left and the bottle of Cloverye flew from Saxony’s hand and smashed on the floor.

The sky darkened and drummed.

The heavens opened in a downpour.

Tavia looked to Saxony with panic in her eyes, just as Wesley and Arjun’s voices rushed into the carriage. Wesley grabbed the radio and they began screaming at buskers and Crafters alike. Barking orders at their army. Telling them to *turn* and *hold it off*.

The rain from an open window coated Karam’s eyelashes.

Saxony’s hand threaded into hers. She heard Tavia take in a breath as loud as the wind, her eyes glued on something in the distance.

“Many Gods,” Tavia said.

A maelstrom opened like the mouth of the sea, spreading and spreading with no end. It turned the inky-green waters of Ejm Voten a dark, lifeless gray.

The sea parted and Karam felt like she was seeing a path straight into the spiritlands.

Lightning shot from the sky like arms. Nine bolts of it held in a perpetual strike, feeding the growing chasm that pulled their train inward like it was nothing more than a toy tied to string.

“Reverse the train!” Arjun yelled.

Karam heard the rush of the crew running and rallying. She heard the Crafters scream spells into the air. Saw Arjun lift his hands to halt the weather and then—

“Stop,” Wesley said.

His voice was level as he stared into the depths of the ocean.

“We are going to die,” Arjun urged.

“No,” Wesley said. “We’re not.”

“Your ego can’t avert a natural disaster,” Tavia said. “We need to haul ass back the way we came.”

“This isn’t natural. It’s part of the plan.”

“The plan is for the Kingpin to die!” Arjun yelled above the downpour. “Not us.”

“I just said we weren’t going to die.”

“*Pelg*.” Arjun shook his head, disbelieving.

Karam couldn’t help but agree. Wesley was acting like a madman.

Arjun snatched the radio from him. “I want every Crafter to throw all the magic they have at that thing and for every busker to do whatever it takes to turn this train around.”

Wesley looked like he was trying hard to restrain himself. “Any busker who so much as moves is going to be thrown overboard,” he said. “As for the Crafters, go ahead and try your magic. I guarantee it won’t do a thing.”

“Wesley.” The rain soaked Tavia’s clothes, rolling down her cheeks like tears. “Tell me you have a plan.”

“I always have a plan,” he said. “Our final test.”

“We already conquered it,” Saxony said. “Falk is dead.”

The train drew forward. The Crafters shouted spells and launched magic into the maelstrom, but it did nothing.

They did not stop.

They did not slow.

The vortex sucked in the sea like it was drinking it and their train sped forward, unrelenting.

There was nothingness inside that thing.

It would drag them to the bottom of the ocean.

“Wesley!” Tavia screamed.

He gritted his teeth. “You said you trusted me.”

It was like an accusation.

“So trust me when I say I’m not letting you die,” he said. “The phantoms told us to keep steady on our course if we wanted to see the Kingpin. They said the ultimate sacrifice would be needed and that we *all* had to be part of it. Killing Falk didn’t finish a damn thing.”

“*Death waits for you together*,” Tavia said. Her voice was distant as she recalled the phantoms’ words.

“You think they meant it literally?” Karam asked.

“They told us it was something we had to face as a team. After I shot Falk and they just let us go on our way, I knew we hadn’t conquered anything. *This* is the last test. The ultimate sacrifice is us.”

“You want us to kill ourselves, underboss?” Arjun was incredulous.

“We won’t die,” Wesley said again, a little exasperated at having to repeat himself.

The train reeled forward and they were all flung roughly onto the floor.

Saxony landed in a heap on top of Karam.

The train circled the maelstrom, spinning madly in its orbit. The force of it made them slide across the carriages.

Karam felt a pressure on her chest holding her to the floor, sucking the air from her lungs, and all the while they were spinning and spinning.

The rain sliced through the smashed windows and across her face.

She swallowed the taste of bile. She was going to throw up if she didn’t die first.

“Are you sure that we should not turn around?” Karam yelled out to Wesley, wherever he was. “Are you sure that we will not die?”

There was a moment of silence as the train spun, and then Wesley’s voice cut clear above the wind. “I’m sure that if I have to say it one more time, I’m just going to kill you all myself.”

*Good enough*, Karam thought.

Wesley did not make a habit of being wrong and he did not make a habit of dying, so that was good enough for Karam.

Though nobody knew the Kingpin, if there was one person in the realms who might be able to understand how his twisted mind worked, then it was the underboss of Creije. Following him was their best bet. It had gotten them this far.

“If my Kin dies, I will drag you into the doomed spiritlands myself,” Arjun said to Wesley.

“You won’t need to. You’ll be there right beside me.”

The train swung forward again and suddenly Karam was looking into the gaping mouth of the sea. Into an impossible endlessness.

She placed her hand on either side of Saxony’s cheeks and kissed her, one last time. Savoring her taste, her smile and her feel, just in case.

She wanted to say a thousand things, but the wind wailed and time was nearly up and everything that needed to be said was already known. Words could not do some things justice.

Karam braced herself.

And then they were swallowed whole.

Being inside a maelstrom was like dying, only it didn’t end. The air choked Karam. The water choked Karam. Karam wasn’t sure there was anything not choking her.

The train kept spinning and falling into an endless pit of black.

Karam was sure she should have been flung out the window and into the abyss by now, but she was pinned in place. The wind filled her lungs and the water washed it down, taking root in her stomach and then gurgling back up until she was breathing seawater.

She couldn’t feel Saxony’s hand in hers anymore, or anything but the pain of dying again and again.

And then the realms came rushing back.

The train crashed onto something solid and Karam’s head flung backward onto the floor. Her entire body felt broken. Alive, but definitely broken.

She let out a groan.

It was bright out, but Karam couldn’t see the sun. Only—

She rubbed her eyes.

There was no sky anymore, only the ocean floating above them, crashing like a thunderstorm overhead.

A sky made from Ejm Voten.

Karam jumped to her feet.

“Get up,” she said, to nobody and everybody. “Get up right now.”

Saxony stepped to her side. Karam wasn’t sure if she was hurt, but she did not dare take her eyes off the sky to look. They had fallen through the ocean and now its storms floated around them, and then overhead like a cloud bank.

“That’s impossible,” Saxony said.

Karam could not have said it better herself.