Chapter 85
85
S ADDLED ATOP HER raash’ke, Nyx circled wide around the Sparrowhawk . The ship blazed across the eternal night of the Wastes. Off to the east, the fiery glow of the Mouth warmed the horizon. Below, a desert glinted like broken glass, reflecting starlight and the moon’s sheen.
According to Daal, the spread of crystal-rich sands was called the Fated Desert. Nyx twisted in her saddle and peered to the west. A row of peaks cut a jagged line across the sky.
The Desolate Range.
She pictured the broken plains beyond those mountains, what Daal aptly called the Brackenlands. All those names came from the distant past. For countless generations, no Panthean had traveled beyond the Ice Shield. But Nyx knew, further in the past, Daal’s ancestors had made such journeys. She could still draw up a memory—gifted by the Oshkapeers —of two ancient riders flying across this desert and over those mountains. She conjured up the last snippet, as the two riders reached the Brackenlands.
—she watches her mate head on foot across a shattered landscape, leaving a crumple of broken wings behind him. Her heart aches. Her mate waves for her to abandon him and return to the Crèche. She knows she must. As she turns away, far in the distance, something glitters under the icy shine of a full moon.
Only one of the riders had returned from that journey. The other had headed toward the distant glittering shine. She sensed that was where they were headed now, the site marked with an emerald glow on Shiya’s crystal sphere of the world.
The Oshkapeers had warned her against trespassing there, tying that fear to the bronze spider who corrupted the raash’ke.
Without being told, Nyx knew that was where he made his lair.
Another raash’ke swept the stars, careening over the Sparrowhawk ’s huge balloon, drawing her attention back. Daal tipped his mount’s wings up and down, signaling it was time to return to the ship.
She did not resist this summons. Her limbs had started to shiver, and ice frosted over her jacket and hood. She leaned closer to the saddle, into the warmth of her mount. She sang her thanks and used her knees to guide the raash’ke back to the ship.
As they glided toward the firelit deck, she took stock of the Hawk.
Yesterday, in great haste, they had fled the Crèche around midday, shortly after she had discovered the others in the crashed sailraft. It had not taken their group long to discover that the Sparrowhawk had been spared any significant damage by the hostile raash’ke. By the time the bats had attacked, the ship had been beached away from the village and mostly swallowed by smoke. The Hawk ’s cooling balloon had also sagged low after its flitch -fueled firepots had been snuffed out.
Yet, in the end, it had been Glace who truly saved the ship, raiding it and dispatching a straggling crew of Hálendiians. She had also safely rescued Krysh and Meryk.
Still, their group knew the battle wasn’t over. They all knew another warcraft of the kingdom was likely lurking outside the Crèche. Especially with the enemy dispatching skrycrows toward the mists.
Something was up there still.
Fearing another attack, their group had quickly readied the Sparrowhawk and fled the Crèche.
Unfortunately, their swyftship was far from fully repaired. Holes still marred its lower hull, and its broken keel looked like a crooked beak. But the Hawk could still fly. Between its heated balloon and its remaining two forges already retooled, they decided to risk leaving. Darant had wanted to replace the portside forge that Brayl had sabotaged, but they didn’t have the time.
As Nyx flew toward the Sparrowhawk, she noted the rich emerald of the forges’ powerful new flames. She could feel their heat as she approached. Once close enough, she urged her mount into a harrowingly steep dive.
This was her third sojourn off the ship since they had departed, so she felt slightly more confident—but only slightly. The descent was both exhilarating and terrifying. At the last breath, her raash’ke crossed under the balloon and snapped its wings wide, cupping the air to bring them to a sudden, but manageable, skate across the planks.
As they came to a stop, Daal swooped in next to her.
A flurry of other raash’ke fled to either side. Before leaving, Nyx had sent out a request to the horde-mind of the raash’ke, asking for a handful of the flock to accompany them on this journey. Besides wanting their strength of force, Nyx had hoped their presence would help sustain her connection to the horde-mind. With so much unknown and a possible enemy both ahead of them and behind, she wanted all the allies she could muster.
As Daal dismounted ahead of her, he wore a huge grin. He shook ice from his hair and patted his raash’ke.
“Thank you, Nyfka.”
Their two mounts were the same pair who had carried them out of the Mouth yesterday. Since then, Daal had made modifications to their saddles, relying on his knowledge and that of his ancestors. Already she had noted the improvements. Even the raash’ke seemed to appreciate them. The saddles sat more firmly and seemed to chafe their mounts less.
“How did Metyl fare?” Daal asked as he joined her.
She smiled. Daal had chosen the names in honor of Mattis and Neffa. He hadn’t wanted to use their exact names, as he thought it marred their memory. So he had modified them enough to be unique but still pay tribute to the brave orksos.
“He did well,” Nyx answered. “I think we’re both finding our rhythm. It helps that the horde-mind retains memories from when the raash’ke lived in harmony with your people.”
“Can you still sense the horde-mind’s presence this far away from the Mouth?”
She nodded. “So far, but it grows fainter.”
Nyx and Daal jostled through the raash’ke on the deck to reach the warmth of the firepots blazing under the open gullet of the hot balloon.
In addition to the raash’ke here, there were more in the empty hold below. Darant’s crew had cleared the space out days ago while repairs were underway, and no one had a chance to restock it. This allowed room for a few more raash’ke aboard the Hawk.
Someone nudged her from behind.
She turned to find Bashaliia standing there, rocking on his legs, casting her a scolding pout. She gave him a firm hug and a whisper of an apologetic song.
“Don’t be jealous. You’ll always be first in my heart.”
He nuzzled his forgiveness into her ear, raising a warm smile.
Earlier, to his great disappointment, she hadn’t allowed him to come on this flight. He was still young, prone to distractions, and attracted by curiosities. If he had wandered off too far, the ship could have traveled beyond his range to return.
The Sparrowhawk ’s new engines proved to be monsters. After a slow, cautious start, they were now sweeping three or four times faster than any swyftship. A trip that would’ve taken a week now would take under two days. At those speeds, Bashaliia might not be able to catch up. Only larger ships with bigger forges could hope to maintain this pace—and even then, it would be a challenge.
Reminded of that concern, she gave Bashaliia another hug and a scratch behind his ears and turned to Daal. She nodded her head toward the doors into the forecastle.
“I’m sure someone is impatient for our report.”
G RAY LIN PACED THE wheelhouse, nearly tripping over Kalder as he made a turn and swept the other way. The vargr kept close, unnerved by the number of raash’ke aboard the Hawk. His hackles would raise with every hiss or sharp cry from them.
I get it.
The noise was unnerving, especially with the backdrop of the ship’s continual howl, created by the winds sweeping over the holes in the hull and across the drag of the broken keel.
Graylin headed to the navigation station, where Fenn worked with Jace and Krysh, laboring over star charts and hand-drawn maps. “How much longer until we reach the site that Shiya gave us?”
Jace answered, “Hard to tell with any precision. According to Fenn’s sextant readings, we’re moving swiftly. So rapidly that he wanted to check again to make sure his calculations were correct. We should have an updated consensus in a moment.”
Glace overheard this from her station next to the maesterwheel. “If the Hawk didn’t have gaping holes and a broken keel, we could go even faster.”
“We’re flying fast enough,” Darant warned. “Don’t want to rip her apart. Even at these speeds, best pray she stays in one piece.”
“If that’s a concern, should we slow down?” Graylin asked.
Darant glanced back. “Right now, we don’t know who or what might be following us, so I say we let the Hawk fly as fast as she wants.”
The brigand’s mood continued to remain sullen and short-tempered. Not that anyone faulted his sourness. Between the loss of his daughter and the betrayal behind it, Darant was still struggling to come to some degree of acceptance, if not understanding. Though the latter might never be possible.
Everyone expected a betrayal of trust to be born of larger ambitions or grander schemes or greater umbrages. Sometimes it was just a tired daughter wanting to go home.
The door slammed open behind him, pushed by the winds sweeping through the ship. Nyx ducked in with a bodily shiver, while Daal shouldered the door shut.
“It’s colder down here than up on the deck,” Nyx said.
Kalder trotted over to her, sniffed her legs, then curled his nose in distaste, smelling the musk of the raash’ke on her. He returned to Graylin with his tail dragging lower.
Likewise, Fenn scowled at Daal. Across the navigator’s neck, a scabbed line marred his throat. Daal noted the hard look and glanced away, sheepish and ashamed. His anger had nearly killed Fenn. While Brayl had deceived Daal, Fenn thought he had earned enough trust by now to have had his protests of innocence listened to and not summarily and bloodily dismissed.
Daal headed to the far side of the wheelhouse, where Rhaif stood with Shiya. Vikas was there, too. She had taken over Brayl’s place at the arc of smaller wheels and levers on that side. Of Darant’s original crew, Vikas and Glace were the only two women remaining. By now, half his crew had been lost, leaving barely enough to keep the Hawk manned.
Before leaving, Daal had tried to recruit some additional hands from his Noorish people. But in their group’s haste to depart, his request had fallen on deaf ears. Daal barely had time to explain to his mother and father all that had befallen him. They had been furious, scared, and appalled in equal measures. Still, they had understood enough to allow Daal to come with them.
Graylin turned to Nyx as she joined him. “When you were out there, did you see any sign of us being followed?”
Nyx shook her head. “No. Nothing moving against the stars. Nor any flashing forges. If someone is behind us, they’re traveling dark.” She stared toward the approach of the tall mountains. “And they’re not the only enemy we need to worry about.”
She had already related her encounter with the spider, a bronze figure like Shiya. Only this one was misshapen and hostile. Nyx believed the spider had corrupted the raash’ke as a means of protecting his lair, a living wall of defense.
Darant looked back at them. “We’re almost to those mountains. But we still have a way to go. So, I suggest you all get as much rest as possible.”
“He’s right,” Fenn said. “It’ll take us another half day to reach that site in the Brackenlands.”
Darant nodded grimly. “Let’s hope the Hawk doesn’t lose her wings before then. Even if we’re successful, we still need to get back to the Crèche.”
Considering the dangers ahead, that was a very big if.
Graylin crossed closer to the windows and watched the peaks cut higher, rising more jagged, as if warning them all back.
Maybe we should heed their advice.
N YX WOKE OUT of a vague dream of being lost in a labyrinth of dark caves. She had been pursuing the glowing wisp of a Liar’s Lure. The willowy gasses plied the dark bowers of her home back in the Myr swamps, enticing the unwary to chase the wisps to their doom in the trackless bogs.
She groaned softly, having no difficulty imagining where such a dream had come from.
“I see you’re up,” Jace said from a table next to her bed.
“What time is it?” she asked blearily, pushing higher on the small cot.
“Two bells before midnight.”
“I’m surprised I fell asleep. And for so long.”
“I’m not. I was reading you a passage from Aerodesign in Cold Climes. A text I borrowed from Krysh’s small librarie. Put you right to sleep.” He gave her a small smile. “Even I find it boring.”
She rolled to a seat. She had dropped fully clothed into bed. “Somehow, I doubt that. It was you and Krysh—and I’m wagering mostly you —who suggested replacing the lifting gasses in our balloon with hot air.”
He shrugged, blushing around his collar. “I may have come up with the concept, but the execution was all Alchymist Krysh.”
“Really?” she asked doubtfully, then covered an ear-popping yawn with a fist.
He lifted a brow. “You need more rest. You’ve tapped yourself dry over the past two days. After you fell asleep, I had to fend off people trying to disturb you. I hope it’s all right that I stayed here to do some reading.”
The two of them had been talking for some time before she fell asleep. It was comforting to be cubbied up with Jace, her old tutor and friend from school. Talking about nothing, skewing off into odd tangents. It felt warm and familiar, as if she had fallen back to simpler times. Being alone with him now, having this respite from responsibilities and questions, had rested her more than a quarter day of troubled sleep.
She forced herself to stand and take a few wobbly steps to gain her legs. “Thanks for serving guard duty.” She leaned on his shoulder as she slipped past the table. “And for being my friend.”
As she pulled her hand away, she felt a wave of misgiving. She rubbed her palm on her other sleeve, trying to erase the momentary flare of anxiety.
“Nyx?”
She shook her head as the feeling passed, recognizing it had likely come from the same well of anxiety that had fueled her dream. “Sorry. Just jittery. Need to move, I guess, shed some of this nervousness. I’m going to head to the wheelhouse and check on our progress.”
“I’ll come with. Fenn was working on some intriguing calculations. On projected paths back to the Crown.”
She nodded, hoping they’d be able to use them.
They headed out of the cabin and into the tight passageway that ran from bow to stern. She led the way forward. The winds passing through the damaged ship howled and chilled the air. To escape their icy grip, she hurried quicker and pushed through the door at the end.
The wheelhouse was warmer but nearly deserted. Darant still stood before the maesterwheel. She doubted he’d slept at all since his daughter’s death. Another crewman had replaced Glace and Vikas, manning both secondary control benches by himself. The only others awake were Fenn, who still looked hard at work, and Shiya, who never slept.
As Nyx headed toward Darant, she spotted Graylin hidden to the side, seated on the floor in a back corner, his chin to his chest. Kalder lay curled at his feet, one hindlimb thrumming in some dream, maybe chasing a Liar’s Lure, too.
She also noted Krysh snoring in the small map room off the navigation station.
She joined Darant and stared out the window in front of her. When she had retired to her cabin, they had just reached the mountains, a forbidding, lifeless scarp of frost-scarred black rock. She had been happy to turn her back on it.
The view now was even more desolate, beaten flat and cracked. The plains stretched in all directions. The nearly featureless landscape looked like a pan of black mud that had been left too long in the sun, drying cracked and brittle. Only it wasn’t mud, but the outer crust of this terrain.
“The Brackenlands,” Nyx muttered.
Darant grunted his assent.
“How long have we been crossing it?”
“Near on three bells.”
The barren, eerie landscape cast a melancholy pall, as if they were the only ones alive in all the world. But she knew that they were likely not alone out here.
“Any sign of another ship behind us?” she asked.
Darant shook his head. “Fenn’s been checking with the ship’s farscope, scanning all the way back to the mountains. But the moon has set, and it’s gone dead dark. Even the stars are hazed over by some dust blowing off those dry mountains, dimming the view. If someone is riding the wind’s current without burning forges, they’d be hard to spot.”
“I can take Metyl up and do a quick pass around.”
“No, lass. Not by yourself. And Daal is bedded down somewhere and needs to rest. If there’s anyone out there, there’s naught we can do about it now.”
Fenn called over from his station, “We can’t be far off from Shiya’s marker.”
As if stirred by her name, Shiya spoke up, lifting an arm and pointing to the south of their path. “Something shines there.”
Darant left his post and followed with Nyx to join the woman.
“I don’t see anything but the same sodding hardpan,” Darant said.
Still, Shiya’s glassy blue eyes were sharper than any of theirs. Knowing that, Nyx kept staring until she saw the shine, too. As she did, past and present momentarily overlapped. The memory from the Oshkapeers returned again.
—as she turns away, far in the distance, something glitters under the icy shine of a full moon.
“It’s there,” Nyx confirmed. “Just at the horizon. Darant, can you angle us slightly to the south?”
“Aye.” He headed back to the wheel, calling orders to the crewman posted at the secondary controls. By the time the brigand got his hands back on the wheel, he spotted it, too. “You two were right.”
Their commotion drew a growl from Kalder, and a moment later, a matching one from Graylin. They both climbed to their legs and came over.
“What is it?” Graylin asked, rubbing an eye.
Nyx and Shiya both pointed.
At the swift speed of the Sparrowhawk, the shine had grown quickly, reflecting ever brighter, even more than could be attributed to starlight alone.
Strange…
Ahead, a shape rose out of the landscape, looking distinctly metallic in sheen, like a hot coppery boil bursting out of the cold flat terrain.
Darant got on the ship’s highhorn and roused his crew. Soon the wheelhouse grew crowded. Daal spotted Nyx and joined her by the window.
“What is it?” Daal asked.
Nyx shook her head.
With every passing league, the structure climbed higher and spread wider. At the same time, it looked as if it were floating away, warily keeping back. But the effect was just an illusion due to its massive size.
Finally, it gave up fleeing them and revealed itself fully. For a moment, Nyx flashed to the ancient Oshkapeer queen, with her giant tenacles draped across the sand around her bulbous head. The structure before them glowed with a familiar coppery gleam. They had all seen such metal, forged by the ancients.
The center of the complex was a dome that could have sheltered the nine massive tiers of her former school, the Cloistery of Brayk. Spreading outward in sweeps and turns were seven massive extensions, winding across the Brackenlands for tens of leagues in all directions. The entire complex looked seamless and free of rivets, as smooth as the skin of an orkso.
It looked uncannily natural, almost like something living had crawled out of the neighboring ocean. And that frozen sea behind the structure itself was a sight to behold. It had broken into huge shattered plates that rode up on one another, stacking easily half a league in height along the shoreline. The edges looked razor sharp, defying the scour of the winds. The ice captured every glint of starshine and glowed a phosphorescent blue in the dark.
“The Shattered Sea,” Daal said, staring past the copper structure.
“But what’s on its shore?” Rhaif pressed them all.
“It must be what we came to seek.” Nyx turned to Shiya for guidance.
The bronze woman gave a tiny shake of her head. “If I was supposed to have knowledge of such a place, I do not have it now.”
“We’ll have to explore,” Graylin said, and turned to Darant. “Can you do a slow pass over it? Look for an entrance?”
Nyx saw the challenge facing them. The macabre source of the structure’s glow came from a crevice that outlined the entire complex, cutting around its dome and along those sinuous legs. The moat looked a quarter-league wide and glowed with molten rock down deep. A pass over the complex failed to reveal any bridge over that fiery gap.
“Can you get us lower?” Nyx suggested. “Search the dome itself.”
Darant complied, dropping the Hawk close to the curved walls of the dome. This near, the sheer size of the structure was frightening.
They circled it twice before Nyx saw it. “Wait! Swing us back around.”
Darant fired those powerful forges and got them headed back. He returned to what had caught her eye.
Barely discernible along the top arc of the dome was an inscribed circle, large enough for the Hawk to lower through it, though it would be a tight fit. Even fainter within the circle were seven arched lines that met in the middle, forming a petal-like engraving.
She turned to the others. “We’ve seen such round copper doorways before. Only much smaller. Under the Oldenmast in Havensfayre and over at the Northern Henge. This must be a way in.”
“But if it’s a door,” Daal asked, “how do we open it?”
Nyx turned to Shiya. “Bridle-song. Like before. Only it took both of us—and a Kethra’kai elder named Xan to do it.”
“My great-grandmother,” Rhaif noted.
Nyx faced Daal. “Maybe if you took Xan’s place, we could open this door together.”
He nodded, willing to try.
She turned to Darant. “How close can you get us to that doorway?”
“Close enough to kiss it, if you think that’ll help us get inside.”
“It might.”
Darant spoke swiftly to Glace and Vikas, who had resumed their positions at the secondary stations. With great care, fighting the winds curving around the dome, he lowered the Hawk until the engraved circle filled the window.
The copper looked close enough to touch.
Nyx reached and took Daal’s hand, feeling a familiar flash of fire. She hardly had to hum to raise a glow to her lips. Shiya did the same.
As Shiya and Nyx built their song, layering on harmonies and melodies, Daal fueled their efforts. Nyx remembered how stubborn those doors had been in the past, with locks that only bridle-song could pick. She readied herself for a battle. She sent out tentative golden strands of song to test the copper.
As soon as her first thread touched the surface, a spiky coruscation of emerald fire danced over the copper and burned her thread to ash. Shocked, Nyx faltered and her song collapsed. Shiya grimaced, too, sensing the enmity in that fire.
They all knew the source of that energy.
And so did others.
Throughout the ship, the raash’ke screamed and keened, a fiery chorus of fear and fury. They, too, recognized what hid in this coppery lair.
The spider who had enslaved them.