Chapter 23
23
N YX COWERED IN the rear of the sledge with Jace. She had her palms clamped to her ears. She winced as her head rang with the cries of the assault. She swore she could taste blood on her tongue. As she sat, guilt drove her knees close to her chest, as if her bones could shield her from what was happening back at the town.
Jace kept at her side, an arm around her. Both of them had their backs to the drover’s bench, where Bastan manned the reins next to her father. Gramblebuck’s long legs waded slowly through the water, drawing the floating sledge behind him. The craft’s bottom also had a pair of smooth ironwood runners for dragging the sledge through reed-choked shallows or across grassy hummocks. But this route from the marsh dock had been dredged of chokeweed, so the nearly empty sledge drafted easily behind the tired beast. They were traversing along the edge of the thousand yokes that made up their farm, heading toward the rearmost paddock to pick up her brother Ablen. From there, they would head even deeper, to the black expanse of Fellfire Scour and the homestead’s winter barn.
As the sledge was dragged deeper into the swamp, Nyx searched for what was happening back at the town and school. But the gnarled boles of trees and mossy branches blocked any view. All that reached her was the savage keening and distant screams. From the furious rage on the wind, she and the others knew the alchymist and the prince had failed to stop the dead bat from being burned.
She panted, trying to cast out her fear and shame.
This is all because of me.
Jace tightened his arm around her, as if sensing her distress, but it was not that. His face turned to the shadowy canopy overhead. It was dappled in lighter shades of emerald where the leaves thinned.
“It’s returned,” he said near her ear.
She followed his gaze and spotted a darker shape as it winged over the sledge. Her little brother fluttered, then circled back again. He did it over and over again, growing clearly more agitated, as if trying to signal her. He finally swept lower to reveal himself fully. His wingspan was the length of her arm, the leather so thin she could see the dapple of the canopy through it. The body cradled between the wings was a sleek black mass, fronted by two belled ears.
As if noting her attention, red eyes turned and gazed down at her. A sharper whistling sliced through the larger cacophony. Her vision went dark, and a new view opened in her mind’s eye.
—a woman runs before a diving shadow. Then sharp claws snatch and tangle into her flagging hair. The shadow sweeps over her, then wrenches upward. The crisp snap of neck bones follows the flight upward. A limp body is dropped in the shadow’s wake.
The image broke away as her brother flitted past. Then he tipped on a wing and returned, keening his way over to her.
—a young boy in the robes of a fifthyear cowers under a balcony. A shape sweeps past him under the shelter. The edge of a wing, tipped by a blade-sharp talon, grazes him, slicing his throat open. Blood sprays high as knees buckle.
Again, the world returned to Nyx, only to be taken away in the next breath with another pass of her brother overhead.
—a bat the size of a bullock calf struggles on its back, a wing broken. Men in gray mail and silver armor stab down with swords and hack savagely with axes.
She snapped back to the sledge, but she saw nothing. Her hands had moved from her ears to cover her face. It did not help. More and more, visions of the attack whelmed through her, one after the other, from scores of eyes, all frosted over with screams and scented by blood.
—a shape crashes to the steps, shattering the shafts of the arrows already peppered across its chest.
—another stalks a hall, wings tucked, crawling over the writhing bodies of the fang-torn and poisoned.
—a screaming knight, arms wheeling, drops from claws and crashes into the heart of a pyre.
—higher still, a sweeping view from on high as a section of Brayk burns amidst flames and smoke.
—then closer, a child weeps over a woman’s body in the street, tiny fists knotted in her shredded cloak.
The last image finally shattered through the storm in her mind, leaving her gasping. Hot tears streamed through cold sweat.
She stared toward the canopy.
Please, make it stop, she willed to her winged brother. You’ve had your blood. Is that not enough?
Jace stood next to her and waved an arm through the air. He yelled at the bat. “Leave her be! Off with you already!”
Perhaps heeding his command, her brother swept higher and slipped into the deeper shadows of the canopy. Still, the bat did not leave. Dark wings glided in slow circles above them.
Jace dropped next to Nyx. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head, unsure. She didn’t trust herself to speak, lest she end up screaming. Still, she took Jace’s hand and squeezed his fingers, letting him know she was unharmed, only shaken. She needed a few breaths to root herself back into her body after the dizzying panoply of the town’s attack. It was as if she had been living it—through sight, sound, and scent, viewed through a hundred eyes.
It was too much, on too many levels. She felt dizzied and sickened. More than ever, her newly returned vision felt more like a curse than a miracle.
She gazed back up at her lost brother, knowing he had merged her into that battle, joining her to the great mind shared by the tribe of Myr bats. With the pound of her heart quieting, she remembered something more, something she had sensed throughout the terrifying experience. It was as if a larger pair of eyes had been staring back at her throughout the ordeal, far more intent than the little red embers of her brother’s gaze. In those moments, she caught the barest glimpse of something far older, ageless and dark, cold and unknowable. That brief brush against that vastness terrified her, but it also left her feeling hollowed and empty when it ended.
What did it mean?
She shivered and moved deeper into Jace’s arms.
As she sought his comfort, the distant cries changed in timbre, slowly growing quieter, though interrupted by occasional sharper spats. Then even those faded over the course of several breaths. What didn’t stop were the screams of the dying and wounded echoing across the water.
She looked to the pair of dark wings circling across the dappled canopy.
Is it over? Please let it be over.
There was no answer from above.
Instead, her father leaned back without turning around. His voice was low and urgent and full of warning. “Git down, the both of you. Right quick now.”
N YX STAYED LOW in the sledge, shielded by the high back of the drover’s bench. After heeding her dah’s warning and dropping into hiding, she had peeked out long enough to see a wide raft being poled in their direction, coming from ahead.
Jace crouched next to her.
She understood her dah’s urgent instruction. The raft was crowded with a clutch of hard-looking men. From their ragged wear and knotted beards, they were deep swampers, the whole lot of them.
With the exception of one figure who was held at knifepoint at the front of the raft.
“Hey ho,” her dah called over. “What’re you bastards doing with my son over there?”
It was Ablen, her eldest brother. One of his eyes was swollen and bloody. He had a dagger at his throat.
The raft poled closer, moving to block their path. Gramblebuck could have easily crashed through them, shrugging the raft aside, but Bastan whistled and nickered for the old bullock to slow and hold. The men on the raft carried rusty fishhooks and long hunting spears.
The one threatening with the knife called past Ablen’s shoulder, “Where be your daughter, Polder?”
“My lass?”
“Aye.”
Her dah scrunched his face and swung around the bench. He pointed back the way they had come. “Up at school. Whatdya think, you sarding arse? She’s not mucking about these swamps any longer.” With his back still turned to the raft, he secretly pointed to the left and whispered to Nyx and Jace, “O’er the side when we pass ’em. Hang from the rail.”
She nodded her understanding.
Her dah faced the raft again, raising his voice. “What’s all this bloody business about anyway?”
“Goren wants you. All of you brought before him.”
Nyx cringed at the mention of the highmayor’s name.
“What for?” her dah called back.
“It’s none of your business what for. We been paid to git you all to ’im.”
Her dah shrugged heavily. “Sard that. Nyxie ain’t here, and I got a herd of bullocks to git boxed up before those winged daemons spook ’em clear to the coast. And don’t think I don’t know you, Krask. I can right near tell who you are from your stank. If I lose any of my herd cuz of this, you’ll be a-paying, let me tell you.” He swung an arm. “All youse will.”
“That ain’t our prob—”
“It will be when I bring it up to the Council of Eight.”
Silence followed, except for some furtive muttering.
Her dah, ever the negotiator, clearly decided to take advantage of their hesitation. “Tell ya what, Krask. Let my two boys take the sledge to the rear paddock and get everything squared away. I’ll go with ya all instead and pull that thorn out of Goren’s fat arse. How ’bout that?”
More muttering followed. Finally, Krask yelled over, “We take you and this here boy. That other ’un over there looks big enough to handle the paddock himself. That’s what I say, Polder.”
Her dah rubbed his chin in a familiar posture of deep pondering, then lowered his arm. “Fair enough.” He spat over the side. “Let’s git to it then.”
Bastan looked hard at the old man, who waved him onward. With a muttered complaint, Bastan gave a light snap of the reins to get Gramblebuck ambling forward and skirting to the right.
Her dah whispered out of the side of his mouth to Nyx and Jace, “Off with ya both.”
Nyx stayed low behind the high back of the drover’s bench and scooted with Jace to the rail. She hiked over the lip and lowered herself over the side until she was hanging by her hands from the ironwood rail. Her legs dragged through the dark waters below. Jace did the same with some grunting that was covered by a loud belch from Gramblebuck.
The swampers poled their raft up on the sledge’s other side.
Her dah shifted across the bench toward them and called down to Ablen, “How ya doing, boy?”
“Ah, ya know, Dah,” he answered drily. “If a bullock ain’t pissing on your head, it ain’t a day’s work, is it?”
“True, very true.” Her dah hopped off the sledge and onto the raft, then called up to Bastan, “I’ll see ya back at the house.”
Bastan waved and got Gramblebuck moving at a faster clip. He kept the sledge angled to keep Nyx and Jace hidden from view. Once they rounded a dense copse of tanglepine, the raft fell out of sight. Nyx and Jace finally climbed back up.
Her brother frowned at her. “Whadya think that was all about?”
Nyx glanced toward the town buried behind them. “It’s because of me. Because of the death of the highmayor’s son.” She swallowed hard. “I fear he means to turn the blame on me.”
And he might be right to do so.
Jace shook his head, his face worried. “Not just you, Nyx.”
“He’s looking to all of us,” Bastan added. He scowled back to where the raft disappeared. “I don’t like it none, not at all. Especially a-hiring that rank lot.”
Nyx followed his gaze, finding it harder to breathe.
Gramblebuck turned their path slightly, aiming toward a wide hump of wet mud fringed by reeds and thistlegrass. Bastan turned his attention forward and tried to guide the old bullock back into the main channel. Gramblebuck wasn’t having any of it. He lowered his horns and continued on his course. He climbed out of the water and up the muck slope, his splayed hooves gouging deep.
“Hang tight,” Bastan said.
Both Nyx and Jace gripped the back of the bench. The front of the sledge lifted as its length was hauled out of the water by the bullock. Dragged forward, it slid atop its runners across the slick mud. The reason behind Gramblebuck’s determination appeared ahead. A spread of blushberry bushes crowned the weedy hillock. Clusters of rosy, ripe berries draped from its branches.
Gramblebuck hauled up to them and used his lips with surprising delicacy to pluck the bunches from each leafy branch. He let out a huffing, rattling sigh, and one long fart of contentment. With a tail swishing back and forth, he set about taking his fill of the ripe bounty, a treat the poor fella sorely needed after his hard day.
Bastan lowered the reins and slouched on the bench. He let the great beast graze. Nyx tried to settle, too, but screams and shouts still carried across the watery breadth of the swamps, keeping her on edge.
Jace stood up and stretched a kink from his back. “Maybe we should—”
A distant blaring of horns silenced him, sounding bright and urgent. Nyx drew to her feet, so did Bastan. They all stared toward the source. From the top of the hillock, the upper tiers of the Cloistery were visible through a break in the trees. Even from this distance, a silver river could be seen flowing down the school’s steps. It was armor reflecting the sunlight of the dying day.
The king’s legion.
With the sacrifice over and the battle ended, it appeared the knights and guards were abandoning the school’s heights, maybe even the entire battered town.
Bastan grumbled under his breath. “I don’t like it none,” he said, repeating his earlier admonishment. “Not at all.”
Nyx looked at him. He met her gaze.
“I’m going back,” he decided aloud.
She clutched a fist to her throat. “What?”
“Gramblebuck will mind you. And you know how to run a sledge right good. You git yourself and this big lad over to Fellfire Scour. I’m going to see what I can do to help Dah and Ablen.”
She understood why he had come to this decision.
He voiced it aloud. “I have a sour pit in my gut about all this.”
She did, too. But she stared from the distant town to the deep swamp. These drowned lands had always been her home. Only now they felt dark and dangerous. Especially on her own.
“You can do this, Nyxie,” Bastan said. He pointed to the tiny raft lashed near the rear. “I’ll take the pole-skiff and do my best to free Dah and Ablen. We’ll meet you at the winter barn.”
She forced her head to nod, recognizing he was going whether she objected to it or not. He climbed over the drover’s bench and left the reins hanging over its back. As he headed past her toward the skiff, she grabbed him and hugged him around the waist. He smelled of sweat and silage—of home.
“Be careful, Bastan.”
He squeezed her back. “Ock, our family… we’re all part bullock. You know that. Nothing can stop us once we get our shoulders into it.” He pulled out of her grip and leaned to her face. “And same goes for you, too, Nyx.”
She smiled, this time without any effort.
He gave her a final hug, then clapped Jace across the back, nearly knocking her friend over. “Ya watch over my sister, or ya’ll answer to me.”
Jace nodded and stammered, “I… I’ll do my best. I promise.”
Satisfied, Bastan freed the skiff, pushed it off the back, then leaped atop it. The skiff skidded down the mud-slick slope and slipped smoothly into the water. Bastan never lost his footing as he rode atop it. Once in the water, he saluted with his pole and set off toward Brayk.
As he disappeared from view, Nyx climbed into the drover’s seat and picked up the abandoned reins. Jace joined her. She gave him a shy smile, grateful for his presence, his friendship.
By now Gramblebuck had finished his feast. With a grunt and belch, he continued over the hummock and down the far side, wading back into the brine. In moments, they were gliding across flat black waters. The channel grew ever narrower. The trees pushed closer. Drapes of moss brushed the tops of their heads.
“How long till we reach the winter barn?” Jace asked.
“Another bell at least,” she whispered, fearful of disturbing the constant low drone and twittering birdsong of the swamplands. But that was not the main source of her anxiety.
She glanced over a shoulder. With Ablen taken and now Bastan vanished, both of her brothers were gone.
Still…
A dark pair of wings swept past overhead.
I do have one brother left.
She found odd comfort in the small bat’s presence, but it did little to stanch the rising dread inside her. She remembered Bastan’s words: I have a sour pit in my gut about all this.
She felt the same, only it grew worse with every league gained. It was as if she was being dragged farther and farther from all she knew, all she loved. Through breaks in the canopy, she caught glimpses of the pale moon low to the west, reminding her of the danger far above.
Moonfall…
She did not want this burden. She had already told the prioress of her dreams and visions. Wasn’t that enough? Surely it was up to leaders and scholars to determine if the threat was real or not. And if it was real, they were also the wisest and best prepared to do something about it.
Not me.
She shoved such lofty fears aside. Instead, she turned her gaze from the mysteries of the sky to the slow trudge of Gramblebuck through the dark waters. A larger and more immediate concern kept her breathing shallow and her heart pounding hard.
She cast one last look over her shoulder.
What is happening back there?