Page 53

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G RAYLIN SCOWLED DOWN at the group gathered in the shallows of the misty lake. As he guided the sailraft toward a strand of beach, he bit down a curse at their recklessness, their foolhardy disregard for caution. He knew many a stream or pond that gleamed with great promise but hid a poisonous taint or was rife with debilitating worms or flukes.

Then again, not all those aboard the sailraft showed any better restraint.

“I’m going to drink until my gut is busted,” Perde said, leaning next to where Graylin was seated before the raft’s yoke. “Then I’m taking a long swim, like that lucky lot.”

The hulking brute of a crewman placed a huge, calloused palm against the glass, as if ready to leap through the window and dive below. The sleeve of tattoos down his arm glistened with sweat, with more dripping from the tip of his broad nose. His face, already jaundiced from his Harpic heritage, shone a darker, sickly hue from the lack of water. The rationing had hit such bulky men the worst.

Another crewman, standing half a head taller, appeared to have fared better. Vikas loomed past Graylin’s shoulder. Unlike most aboard the Fyredragon, the quartermaster had never deigned to prune her clothing. She still wore heavy roughspun and an ox-skin vest. The hilt of her broadsword rose above one shoulder, from where the weapon had been strapped across her back.

Like Perde, she had fixed her gaze to the blue expanse.

One aboard the raft ignored the lake and stared off to the left, toward the glittering forest that rose past the window. Esme’s eyes were huge, unblinking, mesmerized by the scintillating canopy, the waving petals, the heavier closed cones.

“Argos,” she mumbled, giving name again to this Chanaryn legend come to life.

Graylin had recruited Esme for this excursion because of her knowledge.

Behind her, two others in the vessel’s small hold continued a wary standoff, both keeping to opposite sides. Kalder stood wide-legged with his hackles raised. Crikit waved the heavier of two claws at the vargr. Neither beast had grown any closer over the long voyage here.

Graylin ignored everyone as he cut the stern forge, snuffing out its roar and flames. He tweaked the yoke and wrestled the wheel to bring the raft to a soft thump into the sand.

“Everybody out,” he ordered. “Keep an eye on the forest.”

Vikas cranked open the rear hatch, which dropped to form a ramp. Cool mists wafted in, which drew sighs all around. Perde did not wait for the ramp to touch sand. He barreled out and splashed headlong into the lake.

Esme followed more cautiously, trailed by her molag, who looked as happy as Perde to abandon the raft. Vikas and Graylin followed. Kalder edged out behind them, moving warily, his hackles still ridged down his spine. The vargr eyed the crystalline forest, then shifted to the lake, which lapped gently at the sand.

Kalder sniffed the surface, tested a few licks, then continued with more gusto. Graylin hoped that meant the water was safe. Still, one of the vargr’s tall, tufted ears remained swiveled toward the forest.

Vikas unsheathed her broadsword and nodded to Graylin.

With the forest guarded, he turned to Nyx and the others, who remained in the shallows. Farther out, the two raash’ke kept close to one another. None of them looked ill after drinking from this cool font.

Still, Graylin knew the threat of such places did not come solely from the water. As a hunter, he knew streams and ponds attracted not only the thirsty—but also the hungry. Predators often preyed upon those who were lured out of hiding to risk a drink.

The hairs on the nape of his neck stirred as his ears picked up a gentle chiming rising from the bower of crystals.

“Perde!” he snapped. “Guard the raft.”

The crewman scowled and wiped his lips after gulping from the lake. He stomped across the sand. From his hips he unhooked two hand-axes, flipping one in the air, then the other.

Daal splashed toward shore, leaving Nyx’s side. The urgency of his approach drew Graylin to the edge of the lake.

Daal pointed past the ship toward a broken section of forest, where a large tree had crashed long ago. “Nyx senses something coming.” He glanced back to her. “But she’s not sure.”

“Right or wrong, all of you get back into your saddles. Return to the Fyredragon. Then we’ll follow behind you.”

Graylin stared to the east. Before descending to the lake, he had spotted their large ship lumbering toward the coast. The sun’s glare off the glass had masked most of its bulk. The flames of the Fyredragon ’s forges appeared to be no more than sharp flickers in that blaze.

It still flew a ways off.

“Go,” he ordered. “Now.”

Out in the water, Nyx stirred and called forth with a sharp note of warning, “Get away from the forest!”

N YX REMAINED FOCUSED , fearful of breaking concentration, of losing her weave of bridle-song. She struggled for clarity through the confounding brume of life that filled the forest—that was the forest.

The danger, if there was any, remained uncertain, but until she knew more, it was best to be cautious.

As she thrummed with song, she found herself both standing in the water and carried aloft on her golden strands. The chiming of crystals challenged her, vibrating and tattering her weave.

Still, she had discerned enough to recognize the vibrancy of what grew so thickly out there. She had sent her song penetrating through the crystalline bark, a hard shell that housed colonies of tiny frilled animals, fueled by sulfur from the air, from refracted sunlight piercing the mineralized facets. She followed roots that burrowed down, burning sand to glass, forming tubules that siphoned water from the same spring that fed the lake and cooled this patch of the desert.

Those minuscule motes of life trilled their own song, vibrating crystals, creating a dissonant counterpoint to her bridle-song. But she sensed no enmity in this. It was merely their song, foreign and strange.

Nonetheless, this effect fogged her view, limited her reach.

She caught fleeting images of other life: burrowing with sharp claws, flying on pinioned wings, ambling in quick darts through the bower, all seeking refuge from the burning sun and taking solace in the cooler sands. The ringing of the crystals muddled this cavalcade of life into shadows and ghostly flashes.

Despite this impediment, a slow realization dawned. A pattern formed out of the flow of fleeting heartbeats, scrabbling nails, and padding paws. They all fled away from where the chiming was the loudest. It was as if the forest were sounding an alarm, driving them clear of something that traveled the crystalline glade, sweeping like a phalanx toward the lake.

Toward us.

With the loud chimes shredding her bridle-song, she could not penetrate that disharmony, that interference. She could not tell what had stirred this bower to resonate with such warning.

What is coming?

She tightened her diaphragm and the muscles between her ribs. She focused her song into a golden arrow, held it against the taut bowstring of her will until the strain trembled her entire body—then she let it loose with a piercing chorus, rife with power.

The sharp notes stung her ears and shot her spirit forward. The arrow pierced through crystal, through the empty spaces between the specks of vibrating energy that formed substance. It sliced through the dissonance of the bower’s song.

Still, the forest was huge, pulsing with life, a chorus that outstripped her lone voice. Eroded by that immensity, gold flayed from her arrow, shredding into loose strands that evaporated. She fought to hold the coherence of her focus, but control ebbed. Her bolt’s flight wobbled, then shattered, flying off in a shower of golden sparks.

She gasped, falling a step back in the water.

But it was not from any backlash.

At the farthest reach of her song, she had caught a hint of what traveled that chiming path, but only the barest glimpse. Still, she recoiled from its heart, from its black and predatory nature.

She shouted again to the others.

Not a warning this time.

But a command.

“Run!”

A T THE SHORE ’ S edge, Graylin shoved Daal toward the water. It had only been a handful of breaths from Nyx’s first sharp warning to this panicked shout.

“Get Nyx into deeper water,” he growled at the young man.

Daal spun and waved to Tamryn, who had been headed out of the shallows. “To Heffik!” He yelled over to Nyx, too. “Mount up!”

Graylin appreciated the Panthean’s quick response. If a threat raced toward them, those three needed to get into the air. Still, the water’s depth fought them. While Nyx leaped smoothly into Bashaliia’s saddle, the two raash’ke stood farther out in the lake. Graylin also recognized how waterlogged all three beasts had gotten, which would weigh them down.

He hoped Bashaliia could still carry two riders.

Graylin grabbed Esme, who had hurried to his side, a knife already in her fingers. He pointed to Nyx. “Join her.”

She nodded and whistled as she set off, splashing quickly. Behind her, Crikit raced on sharp points and dashed into the water, vanishing beneath its surface.

Graylin ran toward the sailraft, drawing Kalder with him.

Ahead, Vikas guarded the ramp into it.

Perde stalked the raft’s far side.

“Inside!” Graylin bellowed to them, praying they had time to crank the hatch closed.

Otherwise they’d be exposed and trapped inside that wooden box.

He took another step, and a shadow blotted the sun. He ducked and fell back. A huge shape, as large as an ox, bounded high over the raft. He caught a glimpse of wings that appeared too short to carry its bulk. Black feathers bristled out of a muscled body, while beneath it, long scaly legs flared into huge talons. Above, a sinuous neck led to a reptilian-looking head, tipped by a curved scimitar of a beak.

Graylin fled out of its path.

As it plummeted down, a rear talon—razor-sharp—punctured the raft’s gasbag and ripped a long rent through the fabric. Then the creature struck the sand with a hiss. Its talons dug deep. The massive bird rose to its full height, towering over him.

Above it, the balloon puckered and gasped, collapsing in on itself.

With a shout, Perde rounded the raft’s bow with axes in hand. He threw one at the feathered beast, but it ducked aside, moving lightning fast. Then a leg lashed out, the motion a blur. It rabbit-kicked at Perde, who fell backward, avoiding the blow—but not the hooked talon.

Perde stumbled back, staring down dumbfounded. His belly had been sliced open. Pink loops and blood poured out. He tried to collect everything back inside.

“I… I got it…”

He did not.

As he struggled, the creature’s neck snapped down like a cracked whip. The sharp beak hit Perde in the eye as he looked up, shattering through bone to brain. The man flew backward, skidding dead through the sand.

It all happened in a breath.

Graylin dove at the beast, sliding low on his knees while swinging his sword high. As its head whipped around, his blade cleaved through its neck, sending skull and stump flying with an arc of blood.

He shoved back, but whether out of reflex or responding to some last command, a leg struck at him.

He leaned away but was too late.

Another was not.

Kalder struck the decapitated beast from the side. The hard slam knocked its bulk over, sending the deadly talon slicing over Graylin’s head. Fearing its death throes, he rolled farther back.

Kalder followed.

Keeping hold of his sword, Graylin scrabbled backward until he reached water.

Vikas rushed from the stern toward him.

Then a shadow burst out of the forest behind her.

Graylin could not get a word out before the monster was atop her.

As it struck, Vikas dropped to a knee, flipping the length of her broadsword under an arm. Its point impaled the beast behind her, finding its heart. Still, she rolled forward, flipping the creature over her back. Using its momentum, she catapulted its bulk off her blade and sent the body crashing to the water’s edge.

Graylin didn’t know if this defense came from some blind instinct or if Vikas had caught a reflected glint of the menace in the water.

Still, she reached him with more important information, gesturing with a flash of fingers and a stern look at the forest: “ Others are coming.”

The two raced for the water and splashed through the shallows.

Kalder followed, soon paddling as the lake bed fell away.

Graylin hoped the deeper water would sap the predators’ speed and dexterity.

Ahead, Nyx had managed to pull Esme behind her saddle. Daal and Tamryn had reached their mounts, but the three bats struggled to get their heavy, sodden wings to shake loose.

“Behind you!” Nyx hollered.

Graylin twisted around.

From the forest’s depths, a pair of the beasts rocketed forth. Another leaped the sailraft in a single bound. More burst into view, skidding in the sand. Necks wove, erupting with sharp hunting cries. Black eyes stared at the group trapped in the water. A few leaped and savaged the bodies on the sand, both Perde’s and the creature slain by Vikas. Muscles were ripped from carcasses, bones broken with savage strikes of those beaks, organs tugged out and choked down with thrusting swallows.

Still, most of the flock paced the shoreline.

Graylin turned to Bashaliia, noting Crikit climbing and knotting his jointed legs in the bat’s sodden fur.

“Nyx!” Graylin called over. “Can you bridle those bastards? Drive them away?”

She grimaced, breathing hard. “I tried! The forest rings with a jarring discord. It shatters any weave of control.”

Nyx swung toward Daal, clearly wondering if tapping into his wellspring would grant her the necessary strength. Daal seemed to sense her need and drove his mount closer, but the water’s depth fought him.

Graylin faced the shore, praying the lake would intimidate the predators.

The answer came as one of the beasts leaped high and crashed into the water. It beat small wings and sped toward them. More followed its lead, landing with heavy splashes.

Graylin retreated with Vikas, but there was nowhere to go.