65

N YX SAT ATOP Bashaliia. The pair waited along the sandy shore of the black sea. The sun’s reflection off the expanse burned through the amber lenses of her goggles. The heat trapped by the glass burned any exposed skin, as if the Father Above resided under that dark surface.

How can anyone dare cross this sea?

To her right, Daal straddled Pyllar. The two of them intended to fly their mounts to Evdersyn Heep. The broken cliffs rose as a shattered rampart on the eastern side of the Shil’nurr Plains.

But they would not be crossing alone.

To her left, a long row of stone-slabbed sleds lined the sand. They sat atop skids of sharpened glass, with bone frames that held aloft woven canopies. The fractured glass at the sea’s edge had been hammered to a scintillating crust, opening access to the flatter surfaces beyond.

The Chanr? called these sleds kalk?a and the beasts who pulled them p?rde. Nyx stared as shrouded figures finished securing harnesses to three of the creatures. The beasts were twice the size of an ox, with powerful hindlegs and smaller forelimbs. Their hips were saddled with thick pads that helped retain water.

Nyx paid particular attention to their narrow heads, which supported massive curled horns that the beasts could strangely trumpet through. She recognized the unique note to those blasts. They made her wince and ate into her skull. The Chanr? hunters who had rescued them from the lake had carried p?rde horns with them. She had been told the noise drove off most predators—which she could appreciate now as one of the beasts reared up and blasted a complaint that stung deeply.

Still, the shrouded men and women calmed their charges with gentle words and soft whistles. Quickly, three sleds were made ready for the crossing. Each would carry six or seven of the Chanr?. These hunters would trail behind, less to aid in the search through the labyrinth of Evdersyn Heep and more as a rear guard.

No one wanted this exploration to end up like the trip to the lake in the crystalline forest. If they should get stranded on the far side of the black sea, they would need a way back across the burning glass.

Still, barring any harm to their mounts, Nyx wasn’t worried about herself or Daal—only those they waited upon.

“Here they come!” Daal called over, drawing Nyx’s attention behind.

“About time,” she said.

Over the rise of dunes, a sailraft appeared, dispatched from the Fyredragon. It rode low, its stern forge subdued. They did not want to rouse the Dragon any more than they had already.

Nyx glanced to the north. The glare obscured the Dragon’s lower slopes, but higher up its craggy crown appeared to float in the sky. She squinted, trying to make out any bronze specks scrabbling those heights, but it would take a farscope to pick them out.

A bell ago, a scout had reported a surge of activity around the Dragon. It had roused Tosgon, panicking many, but most of the Chanr? girded themselves with grim determination. The village had been raided before, but all suspected this stirring of the Dragon had to do with their new guests.

If the Fyredragon had been spotted, the ta’wyn encampment clearly rallied to respond, but so far they appeared cautious. After millennia of isolation, the enemy likely struggled with the strangeness of this intrusion and needed time to evaluate the threat, especially with the southern skies already guarded by an old enemy.

Still, that could change at any moment.

If their group hoped to reach Evdersyn Heep, to try to forge a weapon out there, they had to move quickly. The decision was to limit this excursion to only a few. With the Dragon roused, they dared not draw any attention their way.

The sailraft roared past, burning low across the glaring glass.

Finally…

Nyx leaned down and whistled to Bashaliia. Her brother keened his relief, anxious to be underway, likely sensing her own apprehension. He bunched his powerful legs, then shoved into the sky. Wings spread wide and beat the air, stirring sand.

As they climbed, Daal followed with Pyllar.

One of the p?rde trumpeted below, rattled by their launch.

She glanced down. The trio of kalk?a sleds set off across the sunblasted glass. The p?rde who pulled them had pads of fire-resistant crystals that withstood the burn of the sea’s hot surface, allowing them to traverse the terrain. The Chanr? used these kalk?a to ply this sea, to reach regions beyond their neighboring sands. She noted a few of the sleds on shore carried tall masts with canvas sails, requiring no beasts, only the winds to speed them over the glass.

She shook her head, amazed at the adaptability of these hard desert folk, and prayed she would not bring ruin upon them.

Swinging her gaze forward, she chased after the sailraft and quickly caught up, as did Daal. The two flanked the tiny craft and shot ahead. Behind her, Graylin manned the controls. In the hold, Kalder kept company with Vikas and two of the Chanr? who knew the Heep—or at least as well as anyone did. These desert people seldom trespassed into the region where the mankrae nested, those sand wraiths of this desert.

Esme’s brother, Arryn, had agreed to come, as had the Chanr? huntmaster, Irquan. Esme had wanted to accompany them, too, but she did not know these lands. She only relented after Arryn had tasked her with an earnest responsibility: To guard my family.

The sailraft carried only one additional passenger. It was another reason the number aboard had to be limited. While Shiya took up little more space than anyone else, the weight of her bronze strained the reserves of the small craft. Not even Rhaif had been allowed to come, especially as there was no need for the skills of a thief on this journey.

Or so we must hope.

Back in the Frozen Wastes, to subdue the ravening horde-mind of the raash’ke, it had taken Nyx, Daal, and Shiya all working together to carry out that feat. If they hoped to somehow forge these wraiths into a united force, it would likely take all three again.

Still, they had to keep Shiya hidden, knowing the mankrae’s fury when it came to the ta’wyn who shared this desert. They dared not let her bronze form be seen until absolutely necessary. The same applied for another foe of the Dragon’s entrenched army. No one knew if the legendary Dr?shra still haunted these broken cliffs, but their group had best be cautious. If a crazed ta’wyn still roamed Evdersyn Heep, it could prove as dangerous as the feral wraiths.

Nyx ducked low against Bashaliia, singing softly to him to distract from the fiery heat, from the fear that had worried into her bones. He returned her affection with a gentleness that warmed through her, easing the anxiety in her heart. She thrummed in harmony to his song, a cherishing chorus of love, of a responsibility shared, of a burden lessened for it.

The golden glow bathed over her and trailed off behind them.

As she flew, Daal swept along on her left.

She sensed the wellspring of power at his core. It called to her, sang of its promise of strength. She tightened her jaw against it. The lust in her blood and bones muddled with the desires of her heart. She struggled to separate the flesh of Daal—his warm touch, his lips on her tenderest spots, the hard firmness of his ardor—from that font of power that called to her with equal urgency.

It was why she had needed some distance.

Each communion offered no clarity. It only blurred matters more, which threatened her control—both of her body and her gift. She again heard the shatter of bones in her ears, the cry bursting from Daal’s lips, not of ecstatic release, but of agony.

She pushed this all down and concentrated ahead.

As they raced across the glassy sea, the towering Samskrag cliffs filled the horizon from north to south, a black battlement that climbed higher and higher. She aimed for where a massive section jutted out like the bow of a ship. Only it had run aground long ago and shattered into a maze of flat-topped mesas, shadowy ravines, and broken rock.

Somewhere inside there, the mankrae nested.

She turned to stare past the breadth of Bashaliia’s leathery wings to where Daal rode atop his raash’ke. She had no way of knowing how these sand wraiths would respond to their trespass. Would their two bats be viewed as long-lost relations or deemed an encroaching enemy?

She had discussed this with Jace, who feared the feral colony’s territoriality.

Still, she sped onward, recognizing a simple truth.

There’s only one way to find out.

A FTER A SEARING flight over the glass sea, Daal swept up to the towering, shattered face of Evdersyn Heep. It climbed in red cliffs, encrusted with ancient crystals that blazed in the sunlight. Black chasms cut through it everywhere, separating out massive pillars of flaking stone that climbed twice the height of the Crèche’s icy roof.

Below, the expanse of glaring glass had broken into great plates, cracked apart by the topple of columns, the avalanches of boulders, and the crash of cliff faces. An apron of rock had tumbled far out across the glass, creating craggy red islands in that black sea.

Daal winged Pyllar in a wide arc across the Heep. Nyx followed behind him. He cast his gaze back and spotted the sailraft lagging far behind them. It had been unable to keep up with their swifter mounts.

Graylin had ordered them to wait here, forbidding them from entering the broken labyrinth on their own. It would be too easy to get lost in this maze, a danger that Arryn had firmly attested to with a warning.

Many have entered the Heep, but few have returned.

Daal suspected the reason for that had less to do with getting lost and more to do with the poisonous denizens of those cooler shadows. According to those who had made it out, every crack and crevice hid something that stung, bit, or strangled. Vipers writhed in dens. Giant, curl-tailed skorpions clung to walls in numbers that hid the rock faces. Spiders burst out of hiding when least expected. No surface was safe to tread without close inspection.

Daal patted Pyllar’s flank.

Glad to have your wings, my friend.

His mount waggled as if acknowledging his words.

While waiting, Daal decided to take advantage of this momentary reprieve. He swept back along the Heep’s cliffs and chasms. He searched their depths, craned at those flat-roofed tops. A few birds sped out of deep nests, fluttering and piping to keep the giant intruder from their eggs.

But it was not those wings that Daal had hoped to spot.

Nyx must have been doing the same. She rushed to draw alongside him. She pointed to her eye and flipped her palm. Did you see anything?

He shook his head, slashing the edge of his hand across his throat: No luck.

They separated again, falling away to canvass more of the face. With so many ways into the Heep, any clue forward would help. They could spend days searching this labyrinth—days they did not have.

He swung his gaze north, pulled by worry in that direction.

Then something caught the corner of his eye—no, not his eye. He briefly flashed into Pyllar, peering through his mount’s sharper gaze, made all the sharper as Pyllar cast questing whistles into those chasms, which, with each rebound, peeled away shadows.

It was a disconcerting view, a mix of solid and ghostly at the same time.

Still, one of those shadows refused to dissolve. Instead, it shredded off a rocky perch and fluttered wildly, speeding farther into the depths. Pyllar—and Daal through him—followed its path a few turns, then lost it.

Daal twisted in his saddle and waved to draw Nyx’s attention. She noted his signal, swept a tight turn, and hurried to his side. She hovered to a stop with a hard buffet of Bashaliia’s wings.

“What is it?” she called over.

While they were close enough to talk, Daal felt as if the Heep were staring down at them, listening intently with the weight of all that rock. But for the sake of expediency, he pointed into the chasm ahead.

“Pyllar spotted what had to be a large bat, surely one of the mankrae.”

Nyx squinted in that direction, leaning forward with intensity. Her bridling grew brighter, bursting from her skin, through her clothing. She cast out a writhing of golden strands, singing them into the shadows. Bashaliia added to her chorus in a higher octave, nearly beyond hearing but still in harmony with his bonded.

Daal waited, knowing such skill was beyond him.

After a few breaths, Nyx settled back into her saddle. Daal cast her an inquiring look, but she shook her head and slashed her hand across her throat.

No luck.

Nyx tilted forward and glided Bashaliia toward the mouth of the chasm.

Despite his early trepidation at disturbing the heavy silence of the Heep, Daal called to her, “We must wait!”

She nodded but continued farther until she and Bashaliia were swallowed by those shadows. Daal followed, drawn in her wake by trepidation.

She called back, her voice echoing between the walls of rock to either side, “Show me where you lost sight! We’ll go that far. See if we can discern any trail after that.”

Daal turned and noted the sailraft still flew a quarter league off. When he faced back around, Nyx had already swept onward. He cursed under his breath and followed. They skirted deeper, winging slowly, wafting side to side. There was not enough room to fly alongside one another. As they continued, the chasm steadily narrowed. Soon, Bashaliia’s breadth stretched from wall to wall, yet still the Myr bat’s dexterity kept his wingtips from brushing against the cliffs—which was fortunate.

Across the rock faces, black skorpions scurried and hairy-legged spiders raced. Most fled into cracks, but a few waved stingers or reared up on hindlegs, bearing hooked fangs.

Daal kept Pyllar well back from all that poison.

When they finally reached the stop where Pyllar had lost sight of the mankra, Nyx slowed to a gliding hover. She twisted in her saddle. “Just as we got here, Bashaliia picked up a fleeting glimpse, not far ahead. It might not be a mankra, but let’s go a little farther to be sure.”

Her words were not a question. She tipped and glided forward again. They sailed through a maze of twists and turns, traversing ever deeper. While they did, the cliffs grew taller, squeezing out the sunlight. As a small reward, the air grew cooler, both due to the shade and a steady breeze coursing through the narrow ravines, coming from all directions as those crevasses and canyons split a hundred different ways.

Daal was already lost. “Nyx!”

She must have sensed his concern. “Bashaliia knows the way back! And besides”—she pointed up—“we can always head that way and sail across the top of the Heep.”

With this confidence, she continued on.

They finally reached a larger, deeper chasm that cut like a knife through this section of the Heep. Bashaliia entered it and sped in a slow circle, clearly unsure which way to go. Directly ahead, the wall was split by fissures, all too tight for any bat to fly through. The only way forward was to sweep right or left.

Pyllar crossed into the chasm and circled in tandem with Bashaliia.

Daal sat straighter, searching both directions, craning all around. Their bats keened and pined, probing deeper down those depths.

“There!” Nyx shouted.

She pointed to the right, her body glowing brightly.

Daal searched but saw nothing—then snapped into Pyllar’s view, as if his mount sought to alert him. Through their shared double vision, Daal made out a shape farther down, winging through the shadows, clearly struggling.

Nyx set off after it.

Daal glided into her wake.

He didn’t know if this was the same mankra he had spotted earlier. If so, it was plainly exhausted, likely panicked by the large bats hunting it. One wing battered weakly, causing its flight to careen awkwardly. It fought to keep to the air, often dropping suddenly before catching itself.

“I think it’s hurt,” Nyx called back. “And trying to make it back home.”

Daal’s eyes narrowed. He shifted his weight to slow Pyllar. Daal’s intent—maybe his suspicion—drew his mount to circle.

Nyx noted this. “What are you doing?”

“It’s not headed home. But away. ” He pointed the other direction. “It’s feigning injury to lure us from its nest.”

Daal led the way back.

“How can you be sure?” Nyx called over, still circling with Bashaliia.

“Because that’s what I did with the Bhestyan warships!”

He sped on, his certainty driving Pyllar faster. They quickly crossed where they had entered the chasm and continued onward. Bashaliia had no trouble closing on them and keeping up.

After a short run, the chasm narrowed, as if petering out. Still, the walls rose higher, the floor delving deeper. Sunlight squeezed to a thin line above. As darkness closed over them, the walls broke into a friable crumble of fissures and cracks, looking a breath from collapsing atop them. And still the chasm pressed tighter.

Bashaliia’s wingtips brushed the rock to either side. The larger bat had to tuck and shimmy to avoid damage. Ahead, this rift continued to narrow.

“This isn’t the way!” Nyx scolded him. “It’s a dead end.”

Daal winced.

Maybe the fleeing bat had truly been hurt.

Nyx pointed high. “Let’s head up! Go meet the sailraft.”

As Pyllar turned to follow her, the shadows of the canyons burst around them with a storm of battering wings. Shapes surged out of clefts and splits. They swarmed from both sides, rising from below, diving from on high. Savage shrieking tore into them, reeling into a whirlwind.

In a breath, they were trapped in the eye of that storm.

Daal took grim satisfaction in one slight triumph.

I was not wrong.