The Cradle of Ice (Moonfall #2)

Chapter 81

81

E XHILARATED, STILL FLUSHED from the cold, Nyx shook ice crystals from her hair. Ahead, Shiya stalked into the sailraft to make sure everyone was safe.

Nyx twisted in her saddle, checking how everyone had fared from the flight. Graylin and Vikas shook free of the claws above and dropped into the shallows with loud splashes. The raash’ke who had ferried them swept high.

Jace waited until his boots dragged the water before shoving free. He scurried out from under the huge wings. He got nearly flattened as those sails of leather beat higher and away.

Bashaliia spiraled toward her, keening, elated to have been able to share the skies with her, even if it wasn’t atop him. Once above the shallows, he snapped his wings wide and landed with the lightest of splashes. There, he rocked on his legs, clearly still full of joy, hardly able to contain himself.

Moments ago, as Nyx had swept toward Iskar, a sharp noise had cut through the wind. Flashes of steel drew her eye below. She made out figures hammering or chopping atop a broken sailraft. It made no sense to her. Then she spotted the whitewater splashing of a large shadow. She recognized that dark silhouette against green water.

Kalder.

Anxious and confused, she had sharpened her bridle-song with both demand and hope. The horde-mind had heard it, too, and shared it with the others. They all descended to surround the raft, wanting answers.

For everything.

To her side, Graylin and Vikas waded swiftly toward the sailraft. Graylin frowned at Nyx, not in anger, but silent inquiry. Are you all right?

She nodded back, still speechless, a part of her still in the air. All those memories of prior flights were nothing to experiencing it herself.

Still, those memories had gotten her here.

And one other.

A huge sail of wings swept over the raft. As they passed above her, she smelled salty ice and a sulfurous musk. Small frozen crystals shed from its fur, showering her.

The large raash’ke landed near the beach, its claws splashing up water and sand. It stretched its neck into a long keening cry, as if voicing the fury of its rider.

Daal slipped off the saddle and ran a hand along his mount’s neck in gratitude. Contrasting that gentleness, Daal’s face reddened with fury. He held a fist hard to his waist. His blue eyes shone with a fiery rage. The wonder and exhilaration of the flight had not dimmed his anger; if anything, it had sharpened it, especially with the focus of his fury so close at hand.

Nyx had already spotted Fenn inside.

So had Graylin and Vikas.

Before Daal reached her, Nyx slid off her mount. She tried to block Daal with her palms raised.

“Leave it to Graylin and the others,” she pleaded. “Please.”

“What if it had been Bashaliia?” he asked coldly, and splashed past her. A hand settled to the dagger at his belt. “What would you do then?”

Nyx flinched at his words, both at his fury and recognizing he was not wrong. She glanced at her winged brother. Daal had risked much to save Bashaliia.

How can I fault Daal’s fury now?

Still, she swung after Daal, wading quickly to join him. She struggled to find the words to temper his anger, but she knew there were none.

Ahead, Jace stood with Rhaif, trying to explain what happened. Kalder crouched near them, his legs braced, growling at the spread of raash’ke.

Before she and Daal could reach the raft’s open stern, Floraan came rushing out with Henna under one arm.

Rhaif noted her panicked haste. “What’s wrong?”

Before Floraan could answer, fierce shouting rose from inside the raft, then a loud scuffle of heavy bodies. Nyx heard Fenn call out, his voice panicked, “What are you doing?”

Nyx and Daal rushed toward the hold.

With a look of shock, Floraan tried to stop her son. “Daal, where have you—?”

He ignored her, brushed past, and continued inside. Even his mother could not stem his fury or sway his singular focus. Daal had heard Fenn’s voice, too, and nothing would stop him from exacting his revenge.

Nyx cast Floraan an apologetic look and hurried after Daal.

Inside was chaos.

Nyx tried to take in everything at once. Darant knelt at the front. More of his men jostled in the cramped hold, trying to pull Graylin off of Fenn. The knight had the navigator lifted by his throat and pressed against the wall. Vikas helped hold Darant’s men off. But the two were outnumbered, and neither Vikas nor Graylin wanted to hurt anyone—and Darant’s men had axes.

One of them clubbed Graylin hard, knocking him aside.

Fenn slumped down the wall, grasping his neck. A bandage had been knocked loose, showing a deep gash across his brow.

Darant shifted around and bellowed, deafening the cramped space, “Stop this shite now! Or I’ll skin the lot of ya!”

His face was stricken, his eyes shining with misery. Only then did Nyx see whom Darant had been kneeling over. His daughter lay in water, her torso propped up. Her skin pallid and bloodless. Her lips drawn and thin. An iron bar impaled her chest.

Nyx gasped. “Brayl…”

Distracted, she could not stop Daal in time. He dashed through the others, fury fueling his speed. He hit Fenn in the chest with his knees and drove the navigator farther down the wall. Daal kept him pinned under his weight, a dagger at Fenn’s throat.

“You killed Neffa and Mattis,” Daal hissed, rage frothing his lips.

Fenn stammered, “I didn’t… what are you… who…”

Daal pressed the edge of his blade, hard enough to draw a bloody line across Fenn’s throat. Still, Daal’s hand shook. Then his shoulders. He fought with himself, with his heart, with his need for vengeance.

“They… they suffered so…” Daal gasped out, sorrow and fury straining his voice. “They didn’t deserve that. They had such love… for everything, for me. They trusted me. To keep them safe.”

Daal kept his dagger pressed to Fenn’s throat.

Darant’s men looked ready to rush him, but Graylin and Vikas guarded Daal’s back.

Nyx passed through them all and knelt next to Daal. She sensed the truer target of his wrath. Daal was angry at Fenn, but more furious at himself.

Nyx recognized that shame and misery. She had felt it often enough. “Don’t do this,” she whispered. “He’ll get his justice. Don’t stain your hands over this traitor.”

“I have to,” Daal said. “For them.”

He shifted higher, leaning into the dagger.

“Stop,” a weak voice whispered hoarsely.

The softness and pleading, more than the word itself, made everyone halt. Nyx shifted back to see Brayl struggle to sit up. She had to reach her hand and grasp the bar to do so, but it clearly agonized her. Blood rushed around her wound.

“Leave him be.” She slid back down. “I’m the saboteur. Not him.”

In that stunned silence, no one moved.

Daal finally fell away from Fenn, staring down at the dagger in disbelief.

Darant sank back on his heels, his eyes huge and glassy. “What…?”

Nyx pictured Brayl passing down gear from her sailraft into their skiff. There had been plenty of opportunity for Brayl to plant something in Fenn’s pack—maybe she intended to frame him if anything went awry. Only now, with death pending, did she feel the need to be honest.

Nyx stared at Darant’s daughter and recalled the first attempt at sabotaging their group’s efforts.

If anyone would know how to cripple the Sparrowhawk ’s portside forge without blowing up the ship, it’s her. She must’ve hoped the damage would have forced them to limp back home. And when that failed, she had sought out another means to the same end.

Graylin asked the question for all of them. “But why? Were you bought off by the Hálendiians?”

Brayl’s breath rasped out a dismissive huff. “Fekk that. No gold or coercion swayed me.” Blood dribbled from her lips. “My choice. My doing alone.”

Darant shifted away, shaking his head, still refusing to believe.

“Then why?” Nyx asked.

Brayl’s gaze rolled toward her. “Because… of you.”

Nyx cringed.

Brayl lifted an arm, only to have it slap in the water. Her voice drifted to a tired whisper. “All the sodding prophecies, visions of doom, what-ifs… fekkin’ shite, the lot of it. I was raised a pirate’s daughter.”

She leaned her head toward her father, but he would not meet her eye, so she closed hers. “We believe what we can grasp. Right? Not this shite… Someone had to right this ship before we hit the rocks. Meant stopping you. Without killing the lot of us…”

Brayl tried to lift her arm again, reaching for Darant. “Then we could’ve all gone sodding home…”

Her arm dropped, and she slumped backward. Her face slid underwater.

No one moved to help her.

Not even her father.