03 Sky Knight (27 page)

Cloud was going to die.

‘I will stay with him,’ Spectre said, gravely. ‘Until the end. It is the least I can do.’

Nimbus swallowed back all the terrible emotions that boiled within him, pushing them deep down, forcing himself not to cry, turning his grief into rage. In the battle that was yet to come, his grief was worthless. But rage was a weapon that could tear down cities, and destroy entire nations. It was rage he would use to rip Crow’s spirit out of his twisted, undying body. Rage, and hate.

‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ he said.

‘Don’t be sorry. You came for me, and I got to see the warrior you have become.’

Nimbus wiped his eyes. ‘We did good, didn’t we?’

‘We did. And you will.’

The doors to the throne room burst open, and the first scuttling menaces poured in.

‘Go,’ Captain Spectre said. ‘We will hold them back.’

Nimbus paused, watching his father straighten up to face the approaching enemy, even though his pain was great. ‘I’ll never forget you, Dad,’ he said.

‘Go!’ Cloud roared, and then he was obscured from view by a torrent of spindly legs, glittering armour, and vicious blades.

Nimbus fled to the stairs, even though it felt like in doing so a part of him died inside. He stopped only once, to see if he could catch a glimpse of his father. Captain Spectre was hacking and slicing through the foes, relishing each movement of the body he had been denied for so long; but Cloud was nowhere to be seen.

Cloud – his father, the hero – was gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

‘I thought he'd never leave,’ Tidal said, as he staggered out onto the beach. Sky, realising how badly hurt he was, rushed to his side. She was just in time to catch him as his legs gave way.

With great care, she rested him against one of the stones, and then she watched over him as he drifted in and out of consciousness. His arm was badly broken, and in the time she waited with him it went from an ugly red to an ugly purple. His fingers were crippled and curled like the legs of an upturned crab. His breathing was slow, and it was getting slower all the time.

‘Oh, Tide,’ Sky said, hugging herself and shivering as the night came in. ‘Why did you do this to yourself?’

Tidal groaned, but whether this was some kind of response, or just a murmur in his dreams, Sky couldn’t say.

‘Do you remember?’ she said. ‘The way it used to be? It wasn’t really so long ago, was it? You, me, Glass, and Nim. All playing together in the woods. All of us picking on Nim, and teasing him because he couldn’t catch that stupid fish. I never really gave up thinking that one day we could all do that again.’

She sighed heavily. Even now, she did not know if she was angry or sad for the way Tidal had behaved. Did she hate him, for betraying them, and for hunting her? Did she pity him, for allowing himself to become a slave to the Ocean King? Or did she love him for what he had eventually chosen to do? After all, he had tried to kill himself, knowing that if he lived, he would be forced to continue chasing after her. He had, in the end, chosen her life – her safety – over his own.

She sniffed, and tried not to pay any attention to the rasping noises he was making.

‘I’m sorry we weren’t better friends,’ she went on, rocking backwards and forwards. ‘I suppose that if we had been, this probably would still have happened. You’re pig–headed, and so is Nim. You are both so similar. You could have done anything, I think, if only you could have worked together for once.’

Tidal’s head drooped, and then he jumped awake, looking around groggily. ‘You’re still here,’ he said. ‘You’re waiting.’

‘I said I would.’

He nodded, touching his wounded side with his good hand. Despite Sky’s constant attempts to staunch the blood flow, his injuries were too deep for her to treat, and his fingers came away slick with gore. He nodded again, as if he had expected as much.

‘I thought it would be over by now,’ he went on.

‘You’re like Nim. Stubborn. You should have let him put you right, you know.’

‘I know. But then, how could things ever go back to the way they were? It’s better like this.’

They both fell silent, and gradually Sky became aware of a strange light that had nothing to do with the moon and stars above. She glanced around, looking for its source; but behind her there was just the cracked shadows of the island, and ahead of her, nothing but the vast, unwelcoming ocean.

‘It’s coming from you,’ Tidal said, indicating the pouch hanging from her waist.

The star was burning brightly, and when Sky placed her hands over the bag, she could feel its warmth through the leather.

‘Does that mean you’re going to leave now?’ Tidal asked.

She thought about it; seriously thought about it. There was nothing she could do here. Tidal was dying, and that was that, no matter how she wished it to be different. But back on the mainland, she could still be of use.

Back on the mainland, with the power of the pegasus star, she could ride into battle alongside Nimbus.

That’s where she should be. With her friends. With her father.

She shouldn’t be sitting here, waiting for a boy to die.

‘Sky?’

She tried to smile convincingly. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said.

‘You want to though, don’t you?’

‘Shut up. Save your strength.’

Tidal laughed, letting his head rock back. ‘Save it for what, Sky?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything any more.’

‘You’re really going to stay here, aren’t you? Until I’m dead?’

‘I thought I’d already said I would. Don’t expect me to say it again. And don’t start thinking I’d rather be here than somewhere else. I’m doing this for what we once were. That’s all.’

‘Right, well then, I should have done this a while ago.’

Using his one good arm, gripping the rocks for support, and with a lot of heaving and grunting, Tidal got to his feet. In the light emanating from the pegasus star, it was possible to see that where he had been sitting the yellow sand had been stained black with blood. There was so much blood that Sky could not understand how Tidal possibly had any left to bleed.

‘What are you doing?’ she said, standing.

‘I’ve been thinking, I don’t really want to finish it this way. Not here. It’s just...’ He stumbled, his arm hanging useless and clawed by his side. ‘I was thinking...’

‘Tide. Sit down.’

‘No. No.’ He waved her away as she came towards him. ‘I know what I’m doing. I’ve been a fisherman for as long as I can remember, and now I’ve got these things...’ On the sides of his neck, his gills flared weakly. ‘I’m a creature of the ocean. That’s where I should be. It’s time for me to join my parents. I’ve really missed them. I never really realised how much.’

He staggered down to the shoreline, where seagulls were pecking cautiously at the silvery remains of the fish that had flapped themselves to death on the sand.

‘You wouldn’t believe what it’s like down there. So dark. So quiet. It’s like you’re already dead.’

‘Tide, you don’t have to do this,’ Sky said.

‘They’re waiting for me,’ Tidal said, walking into the surf.

‘Hey, wait!’

He stopped, the water already sloshing around his knees. ‘It was always going to end this way, Sky, with me as food for the fishes. It’s proper. Now go on. Go and be with Nimbus. He needs you, more than I ever did.’

‘Tide!’

He took one last look, watching the way the light of the pegasus star flickered around Sky. ‘You look pretty,’ he said, and then he dived below the surface.

Sky stood on the beach for a long time after that, staring out at the point where Tidal had disappeared from view. Then she took the pegasus star and threw it up into the air with all her might, watching as it dwindled to nearly nothing against the black emptiness of space.

A minute passed. Two minutes. And then the pegasus soared overhead, circling several times before coming in to land.

Sky stroked its mane. ‘We have to go,’ she said. ‘Everyone else has.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Lord Citrine stood on the perimeter of the ruins, not far from the body of the hydra. Around him, the brave defenders waited silently, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Crow had been wounded, and his pet hydra slain. They all knew there would be no mercy for them now. When Crow unleashed his army of spider–soldiers, everyone was going to die.

The woods were dark and quiet. If they had not known better, they would have thought the attackers had just turned around and left.

‘You should get your people up on the ridge,’ Citrine said to Hawk. ‘It will give you the best field of view.’

‘Yes, Lord.’

Hawk saluted smartly and motioned to his archers to withdraw to the high ground. As he ran, with Autumn by his side, he could not help but smile at the hand fate had dealt him. After the black dragon had attacked Flint Lock Fort, Hawk had given up being a soldier, and had wanted nothing more than a quiet life, hiding somewhere in the mountains. Now, here he was, about to give his life in a hopeless battle.

But as he looked at Autumn, and she looked back with all the hope and respect it was possible for one person to have, he didn’t feel too bad at all.

Maybe Crow could take his life. But he could never take from him this moment.

‘Make sure you stay alive,’ he said to her.

Autumn grinned. ‘You too. I haven’t forgotten you owe me a date.’

Hawk stopped. ‘Date?’ he said, but Autumn and all the others kept running.

Lord Citrine walked up and down the front line, swinging his sword arm. The soldiers of the Landmark garrison, and the Crystal Shine palace guards, waited expectantly for him to say something.

‘I guess this is it,’ he said, which didn’t sound like much at all, so he went on. ‘I know most of you were hoping that you would be fighting with Captain Obsidian, but... Well, you all know what happened, and there’s nothing we can do about that now. You also might have thought we had a magic user on our side, but Strata is still unconscious, so we can’t rely on her, either. All we have is the plan Obsidian left, and we’re going to stick to that plan.’ For a fraction of a second, the air around him shimmered, and several of the soldiers thought they could see ghostly human outlines in the gloom. ‘We are going to allow those spider things inside the ruins. After that, any that are still standing are our concern. Above all else, make sure none of them get into the beer cellar.’

There was a sound among the trees: The jittering scurry of spider legs. A group of shadows detached itself from the woods and began to rush across the killing fields.

‘Okay,’ Citrine said. ‘Two men on the cellar at all times. Everyone else, keep inside the ruins. Use the rocks. Numbers don’t count for anything if they can’t surround you.’

The men broke for cover, crouching in dark corners, backs pressed to cold stone. Citrine remained in the open for the longest, watching as the approaching shadows gradually assumed the forms of soldiers. He tried to count them, but they were moving too fast, and there were too many of them. What he could tell was that his people were outnumbered by at least five to one.

‘Come on, then,’ he said. ‘Let’s see how well you really fight.’

With an inarticulate screech, the first spider–soldier sprang into the air, clearing the sharpened stakes and landing at a scuttling run on the other side. No sooner had the monstrous thing landed, then out of nowhere the ghostly form of a man appeared, as if he had been blown together out of pieces of dust in the air. He came rushing across the ruins with arms outstretched, wailing like a banshee, his long hair streaming, his eyes fixed in a piercing stare on his target.

The spider–soldier saw the spirit and hesitated in its advance. A second later the two creatures collided in a burst of energy that left crackling imprints in the night sky, and sent the soldier sprawling with all its legs fidgeting and grasping. The spirit remained standing where the impact had taken place, looking around in confusion.

All over the ruins, other soldiers were speeding between the stakes. Some were ignored, but others were targeted by the spirits of those who had once guarded the watchtower. In every case, there was a burst of energy, and the soldier was blasted off its feet, leaving the spirit independent of the body he was so eager to recover.

‘Something’s wrong,’ Citrine said. ‘The plans not working.’ To Hawk, he shouted, ‘Open fire. Fire at will.’

In response, a hail of arrows rained down over the ruins. Several soldiers fell, arrows protruding from their backs and chests; but most almost immediately got back to their feet. Only one body remained down, bursting open to disgorge a mutated blackened thing that crawled around blindly until another arrow hit it.

The ruins were filled with the steady swish–thunk of arrows finding their mark, but still the spider–soldiers kept coming. They were everywhere: Crawling over rocks and walls, scaling pillars, pouncing on buttresses. Fighting broke out in the maze of thorns and stone where the defenders had secreted themselves. Swords clashed, men screamed.

‘So many,’ Citrine said. ‘There’s so many.’

Close to the trapdoor, two spider–soldiers advanced on one of Obsidian’s men, who was already bleeding heavily from a wound in his leg. The two soldiers guarding the cellar were about to run to help him, but Citrine shouted out, ‘Hold fast. Protect that trapdoor.’

The soldiers held their ground, averting their gaze as the garrison soldier was chopped down.

The ruins were quickly becoming overrun, and everywhere Citrine looked, there were spider–soldiers. He could hear the last, dying gurgles of his men from all around, and he wondered how many were now left to protect the villagers.

A spirit materialised beside him, and it felt to Citrine that being so close to one of the dead was like being close to an open window on a winter morning. He shivered uncontrollably, and tried not to look directly at the wretched thing.

‘What went wrong?’ he asked.

‘We cannot reclaim our bodies,’ the spirit said, and his voice had the quality of an endless scream, frozen in ice. ‘There is some kind of magical protection around them. As soon as we come into contact with the flesh, we are repelled.’