The Cradle of Ice (Moonfall #2)

Chapter 10

10

F OR WHAT SEEMED like an eternity, the Sparrowhawk battered its way through the storm. The ship got flung in every direction. The winds grew into an unending howl, aching ears, pounding chests.

Nyx’s shoulder ached within Shiya’s grip. Jace held on to her hand just as tightly. Nyx tasted the iron from her bitten tongue. Her heart thundered in her throat. She pictured the ship shattering into pieces and raining across the Dragoncryst.

When will this end?

She was not the only one nearing the breaking point. In a neighboring stall, Kalder rose from his nest of hay. The vargr’s nose pointed toward the hold’s rafters. His throat rumbled with a chattering growl of distress. His tail slashed the air.

On the other side of the hold, Bashaliia squeaked softly at her, seeking reassurance.

Nyx tried to stand, to get closer to him, only to be knocked down as the nose of the Sparrowhawk bucked upward.

Outside, the winds rose into a low roar, accompanied by louder booms as gusts struck the ship. The draft-iron cables groaned under the strain, adding to the cacophony. The cavernous hold trapped and amplified the noise.

Nyx regretted her choice of refuge. With no windows, it was impossible to judge what was truly happening. She was not the only one disabused by this circumstance.

Kalder’s growl turned into a wail. By now, the vargr had crammed himself into a corner of his stall. He braced under an overhang that served as his den. His legs were splayed wide for balance, his head low.

Bashaliia fared somewhat better. He hunkered with his wings outstretched. He swayed in place, his sharp claws latched deep into the planked floor. Still, he keened his panic toward her.

She knew she needed to calm both beasts lest they break free of their respective stalls and injure themselves. She took a deep breath and hummed in her throat and chest, stoking her bridle-song. She fought for the focus necessary to wield her gift. Amidst the chaos, she faltered. Her humming stuttered. The threads of her song dissolved before she could wield them.

I can’t do this.

The Sparrowhawk heaved hard to the side, swinging high. She feared it would spin full around. Shiya’s fingers tightened with bruising force, pushing her and Jace lower.

Jace kept hold of Nyx’s hand. He winced, but his eyes shone hard. He nodded toward Kalder and Bashaliia. “Help them!” he shouted.

She let her worry show as she looked back at him.

How?

Jace must have read the question on her face. “You can do this! Search for what calms you. Share it with them.”

What calms me?

She squeezed her eyes shut, seeking those moments when terror had gripped her—which were plenty of late. But she had found little solace in those moments, only bloodshed and loss. She searched further back. With her eyes sealed, she fell more easily into her past, to when she was near blind. She remembered a girl, barely six, shaking in her bed, blankets pulled to her chin, as the invisible world thundered and boomed.

Much like now.

Back then, as the shutters banged and the winds howled, another had entered her room. A palm came to rest on her chest. A voice rose in a soft song that somehow quieted the rest of the world. Her dah sang a lullaby to her, to quell the terror inside her, to reassure her that all would be well.

She had nearly forgotten that moment, but as the memory filled her, calming her even now, she sang those simple words, a lullaby never forgotten, each syllable etched deeply into her.

When gales blow and boats do rock,

I am here, right beside you.

So, close your eyes and know it true.

When lightning flares and thunder booms,

I am here, never to part.

So, calm your breath and be still your heart.

When hail pounds and rains do flood,

I am here, to protect you ever.

So, be at peace and rest forever.

As she sang, she found her focus, anchored in the past but still present. She wrapped her bridle-song into each lilt of the lullaby and let it spread outward. She infused each tendril with the sense of security, with the reassurance of her dah’s timbre, the warmth of his palm over her heart.

She extended her reach across the hold, the threads glowing in her mind’s eye. She found Kalder and warmed those cords through his panting chest. She let them gently wrap around his panicked heart. Other strands reached past his wide, glassy eyes. She teased his memories, conjuring up times of calm and peace. She burnished and brightened those with her song.

—of milk warm on the tongue.

—of the pile of littermates safely ensconced in the curl of tail and belly.

—of a brother running alongside a trail, two hearts shared.

—later, a nest made of blankets atop a soft bed, shared by three, bathed in each other’s scents until all become one.

She felt the heat fade in Kalder’s blood, his heart slowing its thunder. His heaving chest became a steadier pant. She didn’t allow him to drift too far into a peaceful slumber. He still needed to be alert, to protect and brace himself, but hopefully now he had more control, perched on firmer legs, attuned more alertly.

She shifted her attention toward Bashaliia, but some of her song must have already reached him. He hunched low. His wingtips balanced on the planks for additional support. His eyes, like hot coals, glowed back at her. He mewled toward her, extending his own song and melding it with hers. Though they were still apart, it felt like a warm embrace.

She allowed herself to sink into it. Cocooned within the glowing strands of bridle-song, Nyx felt the outer world faded around her. It became just the two of them. And while she drew comfort from this, it was not wholly returned. In that intimacy, she discovered threads, less bright, infused with a sad longing, a pining that traced deep into Bashaliia’s heart. As with Jace earlier, she knew their meaning. Her winged brother had lived all his life within a communal collective. He was always part of a greater whole.

But no longer.

Months ago, the ship had traveled beyond the reach of his colony. Even the frighteningly cold intelligence that existed both within and without the colony could no longer commune with him.

He is alone out here.

It worried her, too. She had lost Bashaliia once before, when he was much smaller, but that vast intelligence had preserved her brother’s essence before death and passed it into his current form, returning him to her. That was no longer possible at this distance.

This worry frazzled her song, shredding that safe cocoon.

The world returned with all its thrashing and rolling, with its howls and booms. Only now, reminded of Bashaliia’s fragility, she felt her fear sharpen. The threat of the storm had new meaning for her.

I cannot lose him again.

Perhaps sensing her distress, Bashaliia’s soft mewling grew into a shrill shriek.

Even Jace jerked with alarm. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t—”

Then she heard it, carried on the wind, piercing the storm’s roar. It felt like daggers cast through the winds, slicing through the hull. It was bridle-song—only hardened into spears.

She gasped under the assault. She had never felt such strength—or at least not in months. For a moment, she thought it came from the great mind of Bashaliia’s colony, somehow breaching the distance to reach them.

But why?

As that force grew around them, raising the small hairs on Nyx’s arms, she recognized her mistake. The power grew into a massive wave ahead of them, filling the world. She cowered before its dark immensity. While the intelligence of Bashaliia’s colony had been cold and immovable, what Nyx felt here was something fiery and malignant, all hatred and enmity.

Bashaliia’s cry turned into a scream.

She swung toward him. For a breath, she saw him writhing within a net of fiery threads. He fought it with his own song buried in that scream of rage, shredding it apart.

Someone’s trying to bridle him.

Nyx struggled to stand, to go to his aid.

Shiya’s hand tightened on her. “Help me.”

Nyx turned to see Shiya fighting the same assault. Only now did Nyx realize how sluggish she felt. Her limbs had gone leaden. Jace’s hand dropped from her slack grip. He slumped in Shiya’s embrace, his head lolling to one side.

Jace…

Nyx’s vision narrowed to a point. Still, she felt Shiya cast out her own song. Her bronze form vibrated with the effort, her chorus laced with fury. Her threads wove into a glowing shield around her.

Nyx swallowed the numbness from her throat and hummed forth her own song. She added her voice to Shiya’s. Their two choruses struggled for a moment, then settled into a tentative harmony, though Nyx suspected even that success was due to Shiya’s skill. Focusing harder, Nyx bolstered their efforts. The shield slowly grew stronger, forming a shell around them.

As the two forced it wider, Nyx found her strength returning. Her voice grew firmer. The shield hardened and extended, pushing against the assault.

Safely ensconced within the shell, Jace groaned and stirred, shifting upright again. He rubbed his eyes. “What… what happened?”

Nyx couldn’t falter from her song to answer. She knew Jace could not see the war waging within the hold, nor the shield protecting them. Still, he was no fool. He glanced between her and Shiya, likely recognizing the strain of the song they shared, though unable to determine the necessity of it.

Nyx glanced over to Bashaliia. He continued his own fight, but the assault shifted its intensity away from him and over to the protective shell, lashing it even harder. Nyx turned to Kalder, who appeared unaffected, as alert as always.

Nyx risked adding words to her song, to communicate to Shiya. “Whoever it is… they’re targeting those aboard.”

As proof, the bow of the Sparrowhawk dropped precipitously, tilting the ship toward its nose. A set of barrels broke loose from their netting and rattled away into the darkness. Nyx and Jace would’ve followed, but Shiya still anchored them.

Nyx pictured everyone in the wheelhouse succumbing like Jace had just done, bridled into oblivion by that malignant song. She wouldn’t have thought it possible. Those gifted like her could sway lesser beasts, but the minds of men and women were too multilayered and complex to bend. Even some beasts were too clever to successfully break.

“Can we extend this shell around the entire ship? To protect everyone?” Nyx sang to Shiya, though she suspected this was an impossibility.

The bronze woman confirmed with a shake of her head.

Nyx grimaced and pointed toward the spiral stair that climbed out of the hold and up into the main ship. “We must get to the wheelhouse. Carry this shield to the others.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jace said.

“No.” She pointed behind her, sweat beading her brow. She struggled to sing and explain. “If we lose the ship, those sailrafts are our only hope. Free their tie-downs and get ready to winch the stern doors open.”

Jace nodded.

Shiya intoned a warning. “The shield. If Jace leaves its protection…”

Nyx had already anticipated this danger. She loosened enough threads to reach across to Bashaliia. She infused her intent.

Protect Jace.

Bashaliia had already proven himself capable of thwarting this assault. Her brother understood and whistled sharply back, extending a winding coil of energy toward Jace.

Nyx turned to her friend. “Do your best.”

By now, the Sparrowhawk ’s plunge had steepened. The winds had grown into a wail. The ship shook and rattled. Dread sharpened to a pain in her chest.

How long before we crash into the teeth of the Dragoncryst?

With no way of knowing, she pushed down her fears and pulled free of Shiya’s grasp. “Let’s go.”