Page 78

78

A T THE EDGE of Evdersyn Heep, Graylin lowered his farscope and blinked away the image burned into the backs of his eyes. Black wings still arched across his vision. Moments ago, thousands of wraiths had swept past overhead. Their warbling screams had quivered the small hairs over his body and set his heart to pounding, though the latter was stoked more by his fear for Nyx.

Through the farscope, he had searched the sky for a larger bat among the throng, for any sign of Bashaliia, but the glaring sun had forced his gaze away too soon. Clutching the scope, waiting for the burn to ebb, he searched around him.

He stood on a peninsula that stuck out from shore, a sandy spit that cut through a shoal of broken glass. Behind him, towering cliffs cast a thin shadow. Ahead, a single kalk?a sled rested at the edge of the sand. Arryn and Irquan had taken off with the other two, stealing men from the third. They had all heard the blare of horns, the faint echo of screams. Through scopes, they had watched legions of bronze raiders descending upon the far coast.

The Chanr? could not stand idle while Tosgon was under siege. Graylin did not resent their departure. He appreciated that they had left the sled and a lone drover—a bent-backed hunter too old to fight—who could guide the curl-horned p?rde.

Plus, they still had their sailraft. Vikas remained inside, steaming the forges for a swift departure. Shiya and Kalder kept with Graylin.

He backed to the pair and turned to Shiya. “Did you catch any glimpse of Nyx, either in the flesh or by the shine of her bridle-song?”

Shiya stared upward, following the dark storm leaving these shores. “Neither. The frenzy of wings burns with a raging fire. If there’s any golden shine somewhere in there, it’s lost in the inferno.”

Above him, the last stragglers raced past, winging wildly, spinning through the air. He followed their passage, then lowered his gaze to the Fyredragon. The ship lay crooked on the glass, wreathed in smoke.

Graylin had already studied the ship through his scope. He had spotted men moving atop the deck, battling fires. Lower down, the keel lay cracked amidst a spread of shattered boards. He had failed to spot any ta’wyn. Clearly, the enemy had abandoned the ship, leaving it stranded. Once the village was subdued, they would likely return and stamp out the intruders.

Graylin watched to see if any of the mankrae swept toward the Fyredragon, but the wraiths also ignored the downed ship. The mass of wings continued toward the coast, toward the old enemies of the colony. Fighting continued to echo from the distant dunes, but the number of horns had ominously dwindled, evidence that Tosgon and its defenders were being overwhelmed.

Graylin wondered about the intent of the dark stormfront sweeping toward the beleaguered coastline.

Are they heading there to help or to add to the misery?

He raised his farscope again, determined to find out. Before he could lift the scope to his eye, Kalder growled a warning. Graylin looked back and noted the vargr’s nose pointing to the right, his tufted ears standing tall.

As Graylin turned that direction, a pair of dark wings shot out of a chasm in the cliffs. A rider crouched there. Graylin held out hope it was Nyx, but he quickly recognized the stockier build of a raash’ke.

Pyllar and Daal.

Graylin continued searching, hoping to spot Bashaliia following behind. But no other wings appeared. Daal swept in a tight circle, then dove toward them. The urgency of that approach clenched Graylin’s heart.

He retreated to make room for Pyllar to land. Those wings swept up, then scooped air. The raash’ke landed hard, gouging sand. Before the bat even stopped, Daal leaped off and rushed over.

Graylin met him. “Nyx?”

Daal nodded to the receding horde. “With them.”

“How? Why?”

Shiya joined them. Vikas, too.

Daal gulped air, throwing an arm toward the coast. “Wyldstrom,” he said, which answered nothing.

Graylin grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

Daal spoke rapidly. “We got it wrong. The Dr?shra did not want us to carry Khagar’s heart out of the caves in order to forge a new horde-mind. She wanted us to feed it to the mankrae, to corrupt the golden ember. Then to use that ancient fury—the fire that burst from the corrupted heart—to stoke the mankrae into an even more potent weapon.”

“Nyx was able to do that?”

“I believe so. I saw her leave the grotto. She’s riding that storm. Possibly at the edge of madness. Though, I saw an aura of golden fire hugging her form, maybe shielding her.”

“And Bashaliia?” Graylin knew the risk such madness posed to her mount.

“Gone. I… I’ve never seen such malignancy, such all-consuming rage. He’s become Khagar in poisoned spirit.”

“And Nyx is riding him?”

“She’s trying to lead the mankrae, to wield the wyldstrom like a sword. But in the end, it may destroy her as well.”

“And you let her attempt this?”

Daal frowned at him, clearly feeling no need to answer.

Graylin turned and headed to the sailraft. “We must get there.”

Daal grabbed him. “No. She warned us to stay away. Though, not in fear for us, but in terror that she’ll lose her resolve if we interfere.”

Graylin wanted to push the young man off, but Daal’s eyes shone earnestly, with the same worry for Nyx that plagued his own heart. Daal clearly wanted to rush off after her, too—and would if given the least opportunity. He clearly struggled against giving in, for a simple reason.

He trusted Nyx.

Graylin fought for the same steadfastness, but she was his daughter. He had abandoned her once, in the swamps of Myr. Now, every bit of him wanted to chase after her. Still, he recognized the selfishness behind such an urge.

He took a deep breath.

I must trust her.

Graylin finally gritted his teeth. “What would you have us do?”

Daal pointed out to the spread of glass. “Get to the ship. If Nyx is successful, we still have another battle to face.”

The young man’s gaze shifted north to the smoking countenance of the Dragon.

“Until then,” Daal finished, “she is on her own.”