Page 223 of The Cradle of Ice

Wryth shook his head, not in disbelief but certainty.

No one is ready for Kalyx.

SEVENTEEN

THE BRACKENLANDS

To stryve & fail is far bett’r thenne to turn awei in defeat. Ev’n the reward of deth from effort is bett’r thenne a punishement of liffe in regret.

—From the eulogy of Gharan sy Wren, a knight who stood his ground against the ravening Hrakken Horde

85

SADDLED 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.”