Nightchild

by James Barclay

  Lyanna walked over to a corner and crouched down, weaving her hand through the drift of leaves that had been sprites. There was no life there. They were all dead.

  She stood, sobbing quietly. All her friends were gone except the old ladies and she didn't think they liked her. She ran back toward the door. It had no glass in it any more. She wondered what had happened. Perhaps one of the elves would tell her. Maybe Ren was there even if Mummy wasn't.

  “Ren!” she called, walking back into the house. It was all wet underfoot. “Ephy!” Her voice echoed in the corridor. She started to cry.

  She didn't understand. When she had gone to the dark place, everything had been fine and the sun had been shining. Now she had come back, it was all different. It was cold and all the pictures had fallen down and everything was wet and the house was quiet.

  “Myraaaa!” she wailed.

  There was no sound. The sky was all black. All except the light she sent into the air to guide Mummy home. That was something the wind in her mind had taught her. But she didn't know why all the cloud tried to make the light go dim. So she'd tried to send the cloud away, only there was so much of it.

  “Myra!” she shouted.

  No one could hear her. That wasn't right. The wind spoke to her. She could make them wake up and make them come to listen to her so she could understand why it was so cold and wet.

  Lyanna turned and wandered back toward her room.

  The rumbling in the earth had already started. That would make them wake up.

  Hirad and Ilkar were in their favourite place in the bow of the ship again, but this time Ilkar wasn't vomiting over the side and Hirad didn't have to keep him upright. It was midmorning, the storm had abated slightly, the swell had lessened and though Jevin had deployed enough sail since dawn to drive them on, they would not outrun the Dordovan fleet. The seven ships flying the orange College colours were coming up on the starboard bow, close enough now to make out the shapes of people moving about on deck. They were all heading for the same channel into the archipelago but while the Ocean Elm would make the Ornouth Archipelago ahead of them, the Calaian Sun would not.

  The Dordovans had to be halted and the Kaan were overdue. Ilkar and Hirad were scanning the sky. Looking for some sign in the dark cloud, Hirad spoke to alleviate the tension he felt.

  “They were at it again all morning,” he said.

  “You're just jealous.”

  “No,” said Hirad defensively. “I just wonder where they get their energy from.”

  “Maybe from the fact that they haven't got much more time,” said Ilkar.

  “I know that, but even so—”

  “Hirad, can we talk about something else? Like where your dragons are or something?” Ilkar turned his head slightly to narrow his eyes at Hirad. “I thought perhaps our rather difficult circumstances might be of more import to you than your friends’ sexual energy.”

  “They'll be here, don't worry about it,” said Hirad.

  “Are you sure they can find us in all this?” Ilkar gestured at the dense rain-bearing cloud.

  “They don't need to see, they can find us by following the signature of my mind,” said Hirad, mildly irritated. “You know that.”

  “I pity anyone following your mind at the moment,” muttered Ilkar. “Full of filth.”

  Thunder rumbled overhead. Inside the roiling mass, lightning flashed incessantly. Thunder sounded again and suddenly the cloud disgorged a flood of rain. It drummed on the deck, rattled into the sails and drove into their faces.

  Hirad turned his face away for a modicum of shelter.

  “Gods falling! This is unbelievable,” he said.

  He and Ilkar hurried back along the foredeck, the rain lashing down heavier and heavier. They raced across the main deck, the water pouring down their necks soaking their clothes, heading for the aft hatch and the galley, suddenly in need of a hot drink and the warmth of a cook stove.

  At the hatch they met Darrick, who was staring intently into the sky, seemingly oblivious to the downpour. He smiled at them.

  “Refreshing, isn't it?

  “Bloody soldiers,” said Hirad. “Always got to prove how tough they are.”

  “Not really,” said Darrick. “I was just wondering what was causing this, all of a sudden.”

  “Well, while you're wondering, would you mind stepping aside?” Ilkar waved him left.

  Darrick obliged. “I thought it must be something in the cloud triggering the lightning. Probably them.”

  He pointed along the length of the ship. Hirad turned, his head already filling with thoughts of welcome. The Kaan had broken through the cloud and were powering away toward the Dordovan fleet.

  I take it, this is the group of ships you want us to deal with, pulsed Sha-Kaan.

  Yes, Great Kaan. The orange colours. Seven of them. Be careful of magic.

  Be careful of wreckage. More mirth. Sha-Kaan was mellowing in his old age, not that that would be any comfort to the Dordovans. Hirad ran back to the bow, the rain forgotten, and yelled the Kaan on.

  The Kaan flew from the clouds in a chevron, Sha-Kaan at its head, Nos and Hyn on the flanks. They glided fast over the fleet, seeing the humans below panicked and rushing for the sails, for the places below decks or for any cover they could find. Sha could sense the mages below, there were many of them. Hirad Coldheart was right, they presented serious danger.

  Passing the lead vessel, they gained height and banked, turning to attack.

  Break their formation. Take the masts if you can. Spells will come, pulsed Sha-Kaan.

  They dived, roaring into the rain-sodden air, each targeting a ship, seeing the fleet begin to break up as wheels were swung, rudders bit into the ocean and the vessels turned and scattered. Much too slow.

  Sha-Kaan came in low and across the bow of his target, wings beating back to slow him, great talons biting into the deck as he landed, his weight causing the ship to bounce and slew. Water poured over the bows, a torrent streaming for the holds, weighing it down.

  His neck lashed forward and his jaws bit at the mast in front of him, the wood splintering. Another bite and it fell, bringing down sail and line. He pushed away from the ship, seeing a group of men running along the deck toward him. Mages. They sprawled as the aft of the ship smacked back into the water. With a lazy beat of his wings, he angled toward them, lashing out with his jaws, dragging his hind claws along the deck and sweeping with his tail, not caring with what he connected.

  Behind him, the raised foredeck was shattered and men lay where they had been hit, or crawled away, limbs broken. Sha-Kaan swept back up into the sky, high above the range of any spell, and looked down at what he had done. One mast was down, the humans were terrified and the dragging sail hindered their progress. It was not enough.

  He came in again, higher this time, coming across the ship broadside. Feeling the first edges of pain from individual spells as he closed, he braked sharply, brought his hind claws around and grabbed the main mast, feeling the wood compress under his talons. Unable to get a grip to wrench the mast clear, he used his momentum, beat his wings hard, and slowly, slowly, the ship began to tip.

  More spells crashed into his back, intense heat and harsh cold eating into his drying scales. He barked in pain, shifted his weight and the mast snapped beneath his enormous bulk. He tumbled toward the sea, letting go the part of the mast he held in his claws and diving straight into the water to quell the magical fires, depriving them of the air they needed before surfacing and racing again for the heights. He was surprised by the severity of the damage he had suffered and pulsed new warnings to the Brood. He looked back as he climbed, feeling the weakening in his scales where the spells had struck. The mast had broken through the deck and ripped its way down the hull to below the water line. The ship was sinking. Time for a fresh target.

  Sha-Kaan circled, calling the Brood to him. Below, two ships were going down but the one targeted by Hyn-Kaan was still afloat and as Hyn climbed, Sha could see
the damage to his already wounded wing was severe.

  Hyn, the battle is over for you. You can land on one of the islands. You must rest.

  No, Sha, not unless you order it. I can still fly.

  Sha-Kaan sighed. I will order nothing of you. But I wish to see you live. They will be better prepared this time and we still have much work to do. Do not risk yourself.

  We may all live to see Beshara again, pulsed Hyn-Kaan. But not unless these enemies are stopped.

  Sha-Kaan agreed. We have broken the fleet, their direction is lost. One ship at a time. Nos, the masts, I will take the helm and rear mast. Hyn, seek the rudder then swim clear. Follow me.

  For the third time, Sha-Kaan dived, his Brood at his sides once more. He bellowed his approach, choosing an undamaged vessel that was coming about to regain its original heading. Spells soared out. Orbs of flame hissing and spitting by, and gouts of intense cold that caught his wingtips and froze vein and oil where they struck. He switched direction, presented his back to the mages and swung in hard left, jaws sweeping across the wheel deck, taking wheel, helmsman and compass with him, spitting out what lodged as he made for open sea again.

  Behind him, a loud impact on water told of Hyn-Kaan entering the ocean and a series of rending cracks signalled a mast toppling. More flame caught on his back as he flew away. The pain was deep, grinding into his scales and flesh and every beat of his wings pulled at his wounds. Their time in Balaia had made their hides and scales far more vulnerable than he could have imagined. Perhaps the humans would have to complete the battle for Herendeneth alone after all.

  Vuldaroq watched the dragons attack, his words about not underestimating The Raven repeating like bile in his mind. His mood had turned from victorious joy to near desperation in a few scant hours, his careful plans scattered like his surviving ships.

  Once it had been clear that the Protector army was driving toward Arlen, he'd left the town to rot, choosing to take ship at Gyernath with a much larger force than he'd originally planned, following his skirmish with Sytkan.

  Readying the standing College fleet, bringing the crews to Gyernath and provisioning for the long voyage had delayed him by several days. But the relayed news that Erienne had been taken in Arlen vindicated his decision; and he'd already envisaged sailing to destroy the Al-Drechar and the Malanvai child, shown the way by the mother herself. It had been beautiful irony and he'd confessed grudging admiration for the efficiency of Selik and his Black Wings. Another decision proved correct.

  Selik, of course, would not be returning to Balaia. Those who murdered Dordovan mages in cold blood suffered a similar fate themselves.

  But slowly, it had all begun to unravel. The fool Gorstan had failed to take ship at Arlen. The battle had gone the wrong way. Worse, The Raven had stolen the vessel. And they hadn't settled merely to the chase; unbelievably they had managed to steal Erienne from beneath Selik's idiot nose.

  Even that, though, shouldn't have been too bad because in the sky now was a new beacon that only the blind could miss. Navigating the legendary treacherous shallows would be difficult but then that was what the long boats and masted skiffs were for.

  Yet now The Raven had called on their pets and his fleet had been badly hit. However, the dragons were not as invincible as Vuldaroq had believed. They had no fire, that much was plain. And their bodies had proved vulnerable to spells. They just needed to be correctly focused.

  Vuldaroq stood waiting with thirty mages. Their preparations had been fortunately unbroken, the ship unmolested as yet but heading away from the desired direction. But there would come a time and Vuldaroq had bade those ships closest to be ready as he was.

  And the chance would come very soon.

  The Dordovan Tower Lord watched the three dragons tearing the heart from the Chaser, saw the masts fall, the wheel deck disappear in a hail of splinters and the ship savaged in the water as the third beast tore at its rudder.

  It was an unequal struggle with each of the dragons being as big as the ship. They were a staggering size and bulk, toying with it like a plaything. And when they had wrecked it, they'd turn to another. Vuldaroq would not let that happen.

  He pointed to the thrashing waters at the stern of the Chaser.

  “There. The most injured one,” he said to the ranks of mages behind him. “On my command.”

  The dragon bit and tore, the hull sluicing back and forth. With a wrench, the rudder came clear and the boiling waters calmed. The dragon had dived.

  “Wait,” said Vuldaroq. He scanned the sea in front of them, the heavy waters, white-capped and angry still as the storm pounded away. Yet there they were. Ripples at odds with the seas, moving away from the crippled Chaser. “Wait.”

  The dragon broke the surface forty yards distant, scales glinting wet, wings powering its body out of the water, its belly exposed for a few precious moments.

  “Aim high. High. Now!”

  He jerked down an arm though they wouldn't have been watching. The IceWind, the single product of all thirty mages, howled away.

  The dragon climbed fast but not fast enough, the spell catching it on the lower belly and along the length of its tail. An unearthly screaming wail tore from its mouth, a sound that rose above the roar of the wind and the crashing of the waves.

  Vuldaroq watched it still climb but its tail could no longer balance it and the IceWind gouged into its flesh. Slower and slower, the wings beat. It angled its head down on its slayers, long neck curling down, tipping its body over. Its eyes glinted, another bellow, answered by the others, escaped its mouth and it fell from the sky.

  He'd been disoriented under water and had surfaced too near the enemy, and now Hyn-Kaan couldn't drag in his breath. Where the spell had struck, his whole lower body was numb, alien to him; his scales were cracked with cold and his flesh burned like it was on fire.

  He called to the Kaan and entreated the Skies to keep him though he could never now return to Beshara. It was to be a lonely death, far from the Brood ancients, far from peace. His great body shuddered, his mouth gaped and his wings swept at the air but drove him no further. Hyn-Kaan's energy was spent, his mind registered the slowing beating of his heart and the deep cold spreading up to his chest.

  He sucked another breath into his tortured lungs. In his final moment of clarity, he knew there was one more thing he could do.

  The cheer from the deck was cut short.

  “Oh dear Gods,” muttered Vuldaroq. He rounded on the mages. “ForceCones now. Linked spread. I want that reptile bounced. Do it!”

  Feverish muttering rose from the deck, the mages kneeling for stability as they prepared. The dragon barrelled on in, neck outstretched but wobbling, wings beginning to ripple but determinedly spread, its angle steep but true. It would hit the ship. They only had a few heartbeats.

  He felt a movement in the mana. ForceCones flashed out, invisible barriers anchored by the casting mages, a desperate attempt to deflect the beast as it hurtled right at them.

  Hyn-Kaan struck the wall of ForceCones, his massive bulk slapping them away, catapulting mages from the deck or crushing their bodies into the rails.

  “Run!”

  Anyone that could already was, fore or aft, scattering from the point of impact. Men jumped into the sea and the helm spun the wheel, the ship lumbering into a turn.

  Too late.

  The dying dragon smashed head first into the vessel, catching it square, just below the level of the main deck. The impact was enormous, echoing out over the ocean. The huge body slammed in amidships, breaking its neck and driving its shoulders straight through the hull. The ship shuddered, whipping sideways and down, pitching some men into the turbulent sea and knocking every other over.

  Wood and timbers exploded up and out, the main mast was chopped at its root to slap on to the ruins of the deck and bounce into the water. The dragon's wings tore rents in the weakened hull, buckling back as they went, the frozen tail shattering as it struck.

  Its back broken
, the ship collapsed in on itself, Hyn-Kaan's body coming to rest amidships, dead weight dragging the vessel down.

  Above the noise of splitting timbers and rushing water swallowing the ship, the screams of the injured and trapped, doomed and pleading for help, was a wailing cacophony, smothered by the ocean that sucked them all down.

  Slipping away on the ShadowWings he had prepared as he ran, Vuldaroq flew close to the waves to a sister ship, shaking and terrified, fearing what might fall next from the storm-filled sky.

  Sha-Kaan's bellow of rage and grief tore the silence that followed. He and Nos-Kaan sliced through the heavy skies, entering the water where Hyn-Kaan and the ship had gone, wings tucked in, bodies like great bolts, seeking their lost brother.

  And he was dead when they found him, tangled in rope and wreckage, his carcass slipping gently deeper. His head, with eyes glazed, pointed skyward as he went, his slack, broken neck graceful with the support of the sea which bore him down so carefully.

  Sha-Kaan turned, pulsed Nos to follow him and drove back up to the surface, breaking into the air, his wings thrashing, his mind ablaze, his brother lost after so much hardship on Balaia, his life taken by man. There would have to be revenge.

  But as he soared up to just beneath the clouds, neck coiling round, his head searching for the next enemy, one man saved him from himself and his anger.

  No, Sha-Kaan, said a voice in his mind. They'll kill you.

  And he looked down again, saw the massed mages on the decks of the surviving ships and knew that Hirad Coldheart was right.

  The Calaian Sun ploughed on, riding through the wreckage that was strewn across the sea. Sail cloth, baggage, broken timbers, ropes and lines. Bodies. Dozens of bodies. All rippling on the swell, the rain still pounding down.

  The Kaan had scattered the Dordovan fleet. Only three ships still sailed and they were all angling away from the battle, north and west. Two mortally damaged vessels subsided into the ocean, their surviving crew frantically lowering any boats they had left and leaping into the sea. A third was also in serious trouble, its sails and mast fragments dragging in the water, its deck tilted at a crazy angle while waves crashed across it, battering the helpless crew.