Lance of Earth and Sky (The Chaos Knight Book Two) (27 page)

A rolling growl sounded beside him, and he had no time to decipher whether it was anger or annoyance. But Thalnarra's own fire sense reached into him and crushed his, creating a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach, but freeing his water sense to knock the blast of seawater explosively to one side just before it reached Isri.

The two seridi collided in midair, the mad one—Treune, he could almost hear Isri saying—snarling like an animal and fighting Isri with fingers crooked into claws. But as soon as Isri touched her forehead, the other seridi fell limp.

Altair, watching the engagement from below, and now no longer needed in keeping the
Viere
aloft, leapt into the air, his wide wings a flash of white against the dark wood and sea. He flew arrow-swift toward the two seridi, reaching out with air magic to stop the unconscious one from falling. Isri fluttered, her wings strained, but the three of them soon glided toward the
Luminous
.

Though the arrival of the mad Treune seridi had distracted the imperial ships—she had struck blindly, and so had damaged one of the smaller ships in addition to striking the
Viere
and the
Luminous
—it had done little to pause their onslaught. Cannonfire still shook the air, and the
Viere
, once it settled on the sea, rejoined the fight, adding its thundering guns to the exchange.

Altair and Isri landed on the deck, gently setting the unconscious seridi down between them. Her feathers were an iridescent dark blue, streaked with black. A pair of medics ran across the deck from the forecastle, but Isri waved them away.

“Altair, my friend!” Vidarian lifted his hand, and Altair tiredly pressed his charcoal beak into it. “You have already done more than these ships could have imagined, but I must ask you—can you get me up there?” He pointed to the more intact of the three skyships, the smallest vessel that hovered to the rear.

Altair shook out his feathers, but nodded. //
I can
. // Then, without preamble, he lifted Vidarian into the air, just before leaping off the deck himself.

Coming too
, Rai said, and leapt after them. It was strange to see him flying side by side with Altair. Vidarian knew he was big, but here he nearly matched the gryphon for length, if not for height or girth.

Now that he'd done this before, Vidarian liked to think he was a little better at balancing his body atop Altair's. It was not
riding
a gryphon, per se—he quailed to think of how Altair would respond to such an idea—but by flattening himself close to the gryphon's back and using his arms to balance, he could make the flying easier on his tired friend.

//
Where shall I drop you?
// Altair asked. A cannonball flew by them and he twitched his wing, swinging effortlessly out of the way, though sending Vidarian's heart convulsing.

“Near the prow,” Vidarian shouted over the wind. “Get us to the front, if you would. Then tell Malloray and Yerune to get the
Luminous
up next to us!”

They were coming fast upon the smallest of the three ships, though it was still larger than the
Luminous
herself. Altair brought them swiftly in, banking in a wide arc, and the ship loomed large before them. Tall letters on its side marked it the
Argentium
. Vidarian drew his arms and legs inward, preparing for a rolling landing, and his stomach gave a lurch as Altair's air touch released him. He hit the deck feetfirst and rolled, drawing his sword as he regained his legs. Beside him, Rai landed as well, snarling.

Sailors ran toward him, shouting, but both their shouts and their attacks were exhausted, demoralized. Vidarian shouted back at them: “Drop your weapons and surrender! I am Captain Vidarian Rulorat, and I act under the authority of your emperor, Lirien Aslaire!”

One of the men fired a musket at him, and he reached out with an arc of fire energy, which leapt snakelike at the flying ball, relishing being released at last. He brought the fire down in an arc, disrupting the curve of the shot and sending it flying aside into the deck. Rai snarled, advancing on the men, but one of the other sailors was already pulling the musket from his comrade's hands.

A blast of wind carried smoke into all of their faces, and they turned toward the port rail. Beyond it, and far below them, the
Starscape
had caught fire in earnest, and her sailors were losing their battle against the flames. It pitched even further toward the water, nose first, and sailors spilled out of it by the dozen.

The defending party of the
Argentium
threw down its swords, and Vidarian lowered the tip of his blade with relief. One of the sailors, a slender Ishmanti, pointed behind Vidarian and shouted.

Vidarian turned, dreading yet another unexpected enemy. But it was the
Luminous
, drawing upon the final ship remaining in the air and fighting. Caladan's Sky Knights flew out in front of them, surrounding the imperial ship.

The three ships were close, and at the prow of the
Luminous
Vidarian could easily recognize Lirien. The sailors of the
Argentium
recognized him too, and a murmur of shock and dismay rippled through them. A scuffle broke out toward the rear, as three of the sailors wrestled a sword out of the hands of a Company commander.

Lirien called out to the final ship, beseeching its sailors. “Men and women of the empire! Do not spend your lives so needlessly! Put down your weapons, and renew your loyalty to Alorea and its emperor!” Aboard the other ship, sailors turned, the tips of their swords dropping, incredulous as to what they were hearing, responding to the voice of their sovereign.

As Lirien drew breath to shout again, Tepeki came to stand beside him, waving to the other ship.

Vidarian only saw the flash of a blade, and then the knife's bone handle, protruding from Lirien's side.

Tepeki, the snarl on his face far older than his years, yanked the knife free—blood arced across the deck of the
Luminous
—then struck again, slicing across the emperor's stomach, then a third time, sinking the blade into his chest.

Rai leapt from the deck of the
Argentium
, roaring, wings spreading—and Vidarian, caught up in the strength of Rai's emotion again but not consumed by it, dropped his sword to the deck and leapt with him.

The sea opened up beneath them, hundreds of lengths below. Vidarian's heart flew into his throat, and he scrambled in midair toward Rai, even as he knew the big cat could not support both their weight. He drew breath to shout for Altair, but then, as his hands came down to grip the base of Rai's feathered wings, Rai began to change shape again.

The feathers beneath his hands flattened, hardened, spread. Before him Rai's neck stretched long, his striped spines growing even longer, protruding knifelike from a long, swanlike neck. His head was stretching too, along length and width, and a crown of horns erupted from his forehead. The cat's face narrowed, eyes stretching, and his skin everywhere had become rough, pebbled with scales.

Even as Vidarian clung to the now-broad back, leathery wings stretching three times as long as Thalnarra's to either side of him, Rai roared again, a bone-rattling reptilian sound, and dove at the
Luminous
.

The dragon's roar became a hiss, and the hiss became an explosion, a flash and a crackle as Rai discharged a bolt of lightning, this time very directed and deliberate, that struck the ship moments before his massive body crashed against it.

Tepeki blanched pale as soon as he saw Rai transform, dropping his knife to the deck. He flung himself over the rail, diving for the sea.

Rai pushed away from the
Luminous
, cracking wood with his claws, and dove after Tepeki, hurtling headfirst toward the water. As he fell, Tepeki changed, becoming the otter, dwindling in the air and darkening, far smaller than Rai's head alone.

The otter slipped into the water with hardly a splash, only moments before Rai struck down with a titanic one, his neck flailing and wings buffeting the surface as he scrambled after his small quarry. Vidarian fought to keep his seat, sliding on the scaled back, but able to wrap his legs around one of the huge spines that rose from Rai's back.

Furiously Rai thrust his head beneath the water, searching, but Tepeki was gone. The dragon roared, and electricity crackled from his body, arcing out across the water. Sailors that had fallen from the ships but survived in the sea now writhed, their bodies wracked by electricity.

“He's gone, Rai!” Vidarian shouted, now beyond shock, a numbness creeping through his entire body. He thumped at the dragon's shoulder, not knowing if, in this new shape, and in his state of rage, Rai would even recognize him.

The dragon's head whipped around, spines roused, hissing—

But when he saw Vidarian, he drew back, huge eyes clouding with confusion. He hesitated, then growled, a preternatural reptilian sound.

“Can you get us back to the
Viere
?” Vidarian asked. “Back to Marielle?”

Rai's head tipped down in a nod, and he flapped his wings, striking the water with each movement, but lifting them into the air. As had happened when he had first turned into the winged cat, he seemed to have trouble speaking, perhaps even trouble forming his own thoughts. This close to him, Vidarian felt the waves of grief, confusion, and fury that rolled off of him, and in moments his own cheeks were cold, chilled as the wind blew against the tears he did not know he was shedding.

Only the
Viere
was large enough to bear Rai's weight now, and even still the ship listed as he landed at the bow. The two gryphons were there, uncertainly taking in Rai's new shape, and so was Marielle. Malloray stood beside her, his face red with emotion; the
Luminous
had no doubt already relayed what had just happened.

“We've seized the remaining ship,” Marielle said. Her face, through the soot of the cannon battle, was tear-streaked. “Her crew put up a token resistance only.” As well they might, seeing their emperor, unexpected in the first place, cut down before them. “We don't dare return to Rivenwake,” she said. “With all this commotion, we'll be lucky if they don't find it as it is. We need to travel far, distract them.”

//
We can lead you,
// Altair said. The gryphon's exhausted mind-voice, pale as sawdust, turned all their heads toward him.

“To where?”

//
To friends,
// Thalnarra said, and Altair tipped his beak in a weary nod.

L
irien's body was wrapped in velvet and hides, bunches of dried herbs raided from the herbery of the
Luminous
lain around him to stave off decay. Yerune, who, in defiance of her private demeanor, seemed the most openly devastated of all of the crew, insisted that he be transported in the largest stateroom of the
Luminous
. That he would be returned to the Imperial City was never questioned; even the most ardent of the Sea Kingdom sailors would have found the notion of his sea burial unsettling.

Vidarian stood in the stateroom, alone except for Rai, who had positioned himself just inside the doorway when the emperor was brought there and would not be moved. He had spent so much of his time in his cat form while they had been sailing—a practical enough choice for sky travel—but now that he lay on the floor, head on his paws, Vidarian could see again how much he had grown. The spines that had seemed small and awkward when he was a pup had now grown into a fierce mane, now more closely resembling his forest kin. It was an odd way to measure time, Vidarian thought, the length of a thornwolf's spines.

Lirien's stillness could only feel like a reproach. It was still impossible to believe he was dead, and yet all too real at the same time. Vidarian had been haunted for so long by the dead: his brothers, his father, Ruby, and now Lirien. When he began to count them up, more crowded in: the priestesses the Starhunter had killed, the Sky Knights sent by the Alorean Import Company, the sailors who earned death by following orders from a corrupt authority. There was so much death in the world, and it was hard not to think it was needless, especially as he looked upon the body of a friend, something he had done too often these last months.

He tried to mourn, and part of him had already caved in with sorrow, but the larger part of his awareness burned with wordless rage. Tepeki had been young, impetuous, full of contempt for the empire, but to kill Lirien? How had he had it in him, and more painfully, why had Vidarian not seen it?

There was one person aboard who might be able to provide answers, though it weighed on Vidarian to ask it of her.

The
Luminous
turned and the deck creaked beneath his feet, pulling him from his reverie. He shook himself, then left the stateroom, pausing only to reach down and scratch Rai's ears. The wolf's tail swished across the floor, but he did not lift his head.

Abovedecks, a small group conferred at the bow. Clouds traced by beneath them, and far aft was the
Viere d'Inar
; Endera and her fire priestesses had been able to restore the flagship's wing-mast with impressive quickness, melting the steel back together, and she had once again taken to the air, shepherded by Altair but under her own power.

Before the bowsprit, Marielle stood supervising Isri, Alora, and Malloray, who gathered around the bone-handled knife that Tepeki had left behind. When Vidarian arrived, they all turned toward him, sympathy and grief a palpable miasma that he tried to push away from his thoughts.

Vidarian knelt in front of Alora, putting his eyes even with hers. Despite the long history of child windreaders aboard sailing vessels, Alora still seemed too young by far to be witnessing such things. Ship children were tough, wise beyond their years; Alora with her large, soulful eyes and thin body seemed sensitive, youth embodied. “You don't have to do this, my dear,” Vidarian said.

But the girl stiffened, her eyes going wide and then strong. “I want to help, sir. I know it will be—dark. But this is the price of my ability.” The words were full of competence, comprehension, incongruous in her high voice—but still she looked to Isri for approval. The seridi nodded, and Alora flushed with pride.

Vidarian looked at Isri, knowing she would feel his discomfort. She only nodded again, the smallest motion, and a wave of reassurance wrapped around him, a warmth that said she understood, and regretted, also.

Alora turned back around and picked up the knife. She had quietly held her breath as she did so, and only when she held the bone pommel between both hands did she breathe in again.

The girl shuddered, her eyes rolling back in her head before she recovered herself. Isri placed an encouraging hand on her shoulder. “He had—some kind of arrangement with the Alorean Import Company…” Her eyes went distant, then widened with horror, still unseeing. “They were going to kill Tepeki's people. All of them. Somehow—hunt down his entire race…” Her forehead wrinkled and she squeezed her eyes shut, searching. “He didn't know how. But he knew that they could do it, that they would hunt every Velshi in the five seas.
Makkta chichinot'ta Aielu—
” She shook her head, focusing. “Unless he killed the emperor.”

Vidarian's throat closed, a wave of exhaustion and dizziness rushing to his head with the dread, but he fought them back. “Did An'du know about this?” He did not want to hear the answer, but knew that he must.

“No,” Alora said, her eyes still closed. Relief flowed through Vidarian like water. “An'du wanted him to befriend the empire. She will be very angry. He is afraid. The one-skin man is nothing to him, but it is anathema to kill
ta'alewa
. He fears it bringing a curse upon him, but must bear it for his people. He fills his heart with apologies to Akawe Sea-mother.” All this Tepeki had experienced as he dealt the killing blow, unknowingly infusing his heart into the blade for Alora to read. “A man from the Company directed him to this. He wears a smiling mask like the death-god of the Velshi shadow shamasal.”

“Justinian,” Vidarian growled. But fast beneath the fury that crackled through his heart came another realization. “And this happened when Tepeki was in the Imperial City. In my trust.”

“Belay't,” Marielle said, harsh but not unkind. “An'du wanted you to take him to the city. And now we know our enemies' hand.” She looked hard at Vidarian, a steel in her now that he had not known even in the decades that she had sailed knife-reefs and worse under his command and his father's. “You were right to bring us into this.”

The
Luminous
and the
Viere
flew east under the gryphons' direction, long days of sun and silence that slowly baked the sky battles into more distant memories. After two days, the Alorean coast appeared, and then the snowy ridges of the Windsmouth Mountains. The Sea Kingdom ships dispersed, tasked with harrying the ships of the Alorean Import Company still conducting trade in the West Sea, and the four skyships—the
Viere
, the
Luminous
, the
Argentium
, and the captured
Skyfalcon
—continued on alone, heavily loaded with as many Sea Kingdom sailors as would volunteer to meet the Company again in battle. It was a satisfying population.

But where they had numbers, they lacked in training. Fortunately, when it came to skyships, the Company should be at an equal disadvantage, still bridging the gap between what could and could not be adapted from sea-based warfare. And Vidarian's ever-growing force had two advantages: the gryphons, who had been skilled in aerial warfare for thousands of years, and, surprisingly, Iridan, who had both seen and studied live skyship battles in their heyday.

Once they reached the coastline, the days moved fast, heavy with drills and strategy. A new life took over the ships, an energy of anticipation and focus unlike Vidarian had ever experienced, though his father and grandfather had described it. There was fear, hanging unsaid in conversations about the size of the Company's mercenary forces, but there was also readiness and determination.

On the eighth day, they passed over a desert and began to turn northward, following a curve of the Windsmouth that changed here from granite megaliths to craggy shale cliffs, and finally to high, dry buttes of white-banded red rock. They passed beyond the snow flurries that spiraled ever off of the Windsmouth and into vaulting dry skies scudded with only the occasional thin, white cloud.

On the ninth morning they were well into high desert, and Thalnarra joined Vidarian at the bow as he surveyed the land below, trying to determine where they were.

//
We've been granted permission to land.
// Her voice had an electricity to it.

Vidarian turned, about to ask her why they would even consider landing in such an inhospitable place, but even as Thalnarra spoke, the encampment unveiled itself below, animal-hide tents and log-built training courses, herd-beast fields and storage buildings. They coalesced into view one at a time, then three at a time, six—multiplying as they grew closer.

Then, visible in the air below and even above them: squadrons of gryphons. Wings, Thalnarra would have called them. Groups of five to ten gryphons that flew together in formation, their every twitch of a feather perfectly synchronized, in lines and arrowheads and rows, flying patrols around their territory or practicing drills.

As they began to descend, other flyers became clear. Vidarian didn't quite believe it until they had landed, and the sight was indisputable:

Seridi practiced in groups or alone, spread out among the gryphons. And these were no mad wildlings, nor mindspeakers like Isri, nor magic-users at all, it seemed—they were warriors. Those that did not already have naturally grey or black feathers had their plumage dyed in mottled greys, blues, and blacks—the better to disappear against the sky. Their movements had a deadly grace not unlike what he'd seen in Maresh honor guards…who, now that he thought of it, had always claimed to inherit their long hand-fighting tradition from ancient extinct allies.

But the seridi were not the most surprising denizens of the camp. Off to the side, tucked into their own smaller encampment but no less active for it—almost beyond explanation—were Sky Knights.

As soon as they lowered the gangplank, Caladan urged his mount to the ground, then cantered toward his brethren. The apprentices, whose steeds were still colts and not ridable, stayed aboard the
Luminous
.

“He sent word around the whole empire,” Linnea said, her hand on the sprightly mane of her royal. “Some kind of code that hasn't been used in generations. He said the ones we wanted would answer the call.”

And “the ones we wanted” numbered, at a glance, nearly two hundred.

Vidarian had known that there were nearly two thousand Sky Knights spread across the empire—they were trying, and failing, to increase the fertility rates of the steeds and especially the royals—but he never would have guessed that this many would be willing to openly rebel against the men and women who held their purse strings.

Caladan came cantering back up, his tricolored steed tossing its head and snorting with happiness to be among its brothers and sisters. The knight was smiling, the first time he'd done so since Lirien's death. It was not a joyous smile, but a satisfied one; small and hard. “Nearly two hundred have come,” he said, confirming Vidarian's estimate. “And more are coming in every day. The smaller provinces especially, and those far from Qui. They too have felt the heat of the Company for months.” He trotted back to the other knights, then, after a hasty bow; Vidarian felt a flush of gratitude to see him truly among his own people again.

Vidarian worked his way toward what appeared to be a command tent, Rai so close to his side that his spines brushed against Vidarian's leg. Small girls and boys ran back and forth endlessly across the camp, packs of them forming fluidly whenever one or more of them was on an errand to the same location. They were wild and swift, tough-soled and utterly unsocialized; //
Gryphon-wards
, // Altair offered, when he too had descended from the
Luminous
and followed Vidarian. //
Honorary members of the pride.
//

“That's what Brannon wants to be?” Vidarian only barely kept himself from raising his voice. “‘Gryphon-wards’—they're real? I thought Thalnarra was just trying to…inspire him to good behavior.”

A low sound that was almost a growl, but pitched upward into laughter. //
They are very real, and very needed, particularly for the prides with especially large gryphons who can't even manage a buckle with their own talons. The little ones are our hands and sometimes even our eyes.
//