The Only

by Katherine Applegate; Michael Grant

  “We did, and thank you,” said Tobble. “Will you join us for a cup of tea?”

  “Thank you, no, we’ve all had our tea.” With the necessary politeness out of the way, Diggle got down to business. “So,” he said, “I do not see a sky filled with friendly raptidons.”

  “No,” I agreed. “Not yet.”

  “They may have decided it was safer to stay out of the fight.”

  “Maybe, Elder Diggle, your concerns are reasonable.” I hardened my voice. Diggle needed to understand that it was not time to despair. “However, I’ve met Lord Rorid, and I can assure you that he is not easily frightened or discouraged.”

  That soothed Diggle. For an hour. Then two hours. But as the morning wore on, even I was having doubts. Had Dothram been killed?

  Had the raptidons decided not to fight alongside us? Had they done some kind of dirty deal behind our backs?

  Had we been betrayed?

  I feared that this, my second mission, would fail. That I would have accomplished nothing. Although I knew it was ridiculous, I think I was more afraid of disappointing Khara than of heading into battle.

  I gazed out across the wobbyk encampment. What I saw wasn’t encouraging. Some faces were turned to the sky, searching for raptidons. Others were looking at me and scowling.

  I turned to see Diggle approaching me yet again. “Ambassador Byx!” he said sharply. “I don’t wish to trouble you, but once again I must say: it appears we have all wasted our time!”

  “Elder Diggle, as you know, things are very unsettled. I beg you to please allow a few more hours—”

  I stopped talking when Tobble clutched my arm. “What is it?” I asked.

  Tobble just grinned and pointed. A strange, fast-moving dark cloud was scudding across the sky.

  All across the camp, wobbyks began to point. It was a stirring sight. The small cloud grew larger, as high-flying raptidons dropped down through the overcast sky to join their lower-flying fellows. Hundreds upon hundreds of raptidons appeared: falcons, hawks, turries, ospreys, owls, nutchens, and eagles.

  “I believe, Elder Diggle,” I said, heaving a relieved sigh, “that our transportation has arrived.”

  I expected to see Dothram leading the formation. But at their head, surrounded by a half dozen vicious-looking purple hawks, was none other than Rorid Headcrusher himself.

  I’d never seen him in the air with his wings spread. He was breathtakingly large, his wingspan double the length of a tall human. Floating down in a spiral, he landed atop a sapling that bowed under his weight. Tobble, Diggle, and I rushed over.

  “Lord Rorid,” I said, bowing low.

  “Byx of the dairnes,” Rorid said in his strangled, harsh voice.

  “Allow me to present Elder Diggle of the Bossyp wobbyks,” I said.

  Diggle bowed. Rorid was not the wobbyks’ ruler, but he had a certain majesty about him that made bowing seem like the most appropriate reaction.

  “Elder Diggle,” Rorid said after the unavoidable wobbyk welcomes and thank-yous and compliments. “Are your people prepared? We fly directly into battle. And it will be night before we arrive.”

  “The wobbyks of Bossyp are ready,” Diggle said solemnly.

  I let out a slow breath. I’d accomplished, once again, what Khara had asked of me.

  No one cheered. No one spoke of victories to come. The wobbyks didn’t want to go into battle any more than I did. But as I’d told Maxyn, courage is not the absence of fear.

  We were all afraid.

  We just weren’t going to let fear stop us.

  Part Three

  Heart

  24

  In Flight

  Because I’m a dairne and I have glissaires, I’ve done my share of gliding through the air. You could call it soaring, as long as you understand that our version of soaring is basically just falling more slowly than most creatures would.

  In any case, I’ve soared.

  I soared as a pup, playing with my siblings.

  I soared when I rescued Tobble from drowning.

  I soared when I nearly ran into Araktik, the Murdano’s Seer.

  Once upon a time, I might have said that soaring with my glissaires was more or less just like flying.

  I might have said that. But now I know better.

  Clutched in Rorid’s fantastically powerful talons, I dangled from his grip as we passed through the clouds. And Rorid was flying.

  It was nothing like soaring.

  Taking off had been a bit challenging. First Rorid had rested atop a quickly constructed perch. (The wobbyks had built dozens of such perches in mere minutes.) I stood, back to Rorid, and he reached carefully forward, wrapping his talons around first my right shoulder and then my left. Each of his “toes” was as thick as a man’s wrist. And each ended in a hooked nail that looked capable of disemboweling a . . . well, a dairne, for one thing.

  Rorid’s talons clamped under my armpit and over my shoulder. I’d just begun adjusting to that disturbing reality when I heard his wings whip open. I felt a sudden gust of wind as my body lost touch with the earth.

  As Rorid beat his wings, I watched my feet float over the snowy fields below. We gained just enough altitude to barely clear the highest trees in the Lucabena Wood. One was so close the topmost leaves tickled my toes.

  When a stiff breeze came out of the west, Rorid shot up with ease. I twisted my neck as well as I could and saw hundreds of great raptidons soaring behind us, each with a wobbyk in its talons.

  And in the paws of each wobbyk was a raggler.

  The wobbyks chattered excitedly, and so did the ragglers in their own way, singing a joyous song. Did they know we were going into battle? Of course. But their song wasn’t about that. It was about the singular thrill of being airborne.

  We earthbound creatures had been lifted up into the realm of the raptidons. Behind us, the sun plummeted toward the horizon, sending beams of yellow and orange light to glaze feather and fur with gold. It was exhilarating. It was not, however, particularly comfortable. I was hanging by my armpits, my legs dangling awkwardly.

  I noticed Tobble, carried by Dothram, approaching on my left side.

  “How are you doing, Tobble?” I shouted.

  “I’m not afraid, that’s for sure,” Tobble yelled back, sounding afraid. “It’s just that it’s a long way down, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  It occurred to me that I should probably be much more afraid than I was. But Rorid was mighty. He’d ruled a long time and had lived even longer. I trusted him.

  Besides, I had no choice but to trust him.

  “Listen to the ragglers,” I advised Tobble. “They’re not concerned.”

  “Of course they aren’t afraid. They’re ragglers! If they’re dropped, they’ll probably just bounce!”

  Tobble, like all the other wobbyks, cradled a raggler in his paws. The little creatures weren’t heavy, but it was still probably a strain.

  The air was frigid, the wind strong. I wondered if the raptidons understood that we ground creatures had limits on how much cold we could stand. On we flew as the sky turned a darker shade of blue, and the ragglers sang their silent but compelling song. My muscles started to cramp, but when the stars appeared, I completely forgot my discomfort.

  They seemed so impossibly close! If Rorid flew just a little higher, I felt I could snag one and stick it in my pouch.

  “Lord Rorid, may I ask a question?”

  “So long as it is one question, perhaps two. But no more. Flying is best done in silence.”

  “I was just wondering if you worried about running into storm clouds. Or even stars.”

  “Eh?” Rorid was astonished. “Run into . . . ? Oh, I forget how weak are the eyes of the ground-bound. To answer, we often fly through storms. Rain clouds are quite low, generally. Other clouds can be far beyond the reach of even my wings.”

  “And the stars?”

  “My, my, young dairne, when we are done with all this madness, you really must s
ee to your education! The scholars tell us that the stars are light shining through holes in the great black bowl that covers the earth at night. And that black bowl is many times higher than the highest cloud.”

  I couldn’t look upward to see stars. Staring above me, I saw only Rorid’s wings and body, his cruel beak pointing the way. To view the stars, I had to look off to the sides or straight in front of me. But now, looking ahead, I saw a flat, starless black.

  “I don’t wish to chatter on, Lord Rorid, but why are there no stars ahead?”

  “Their light is blocked by clouds. Clouds heavy with snow.”

  “Snow?”

  “Yes. And we have no time to roost and wait for it to pass.”

  “We’re going to fly through a snowstorm?” I asked in alarm.

  As if in answer, a lone snowflake landed on my nose.

  That single flake seemed rather charming to me. What came next was not at all charming.

  Rorid screeched a long string of what sounded like words, although they weren’t in the Common Tongue. Orders to his subjects, I decided. Although I didn’t understand his language, I did understand his tone. And I understood, too, that the ragglers’ song had become much less animated and upbeat.

  “This will be difficult for you, Ambassador Byx,” Rorid warned me. “We must try to climb above the storm.”

  Above? Above a storm?

  The snow was already much thicker. Mostly it melted on my fur, but little by little a crust of ice formed.

  I turned to check on Tobble, but a massive flash burned my eyes, and a second later, my ears nearly burst at the sound of a catastrophically loud boom.

  Lightning. Thunder.

  I’d been frightened by storms, even in the safety of sturdy shelter on the ground. But flying through the middle of one was quite another thing. I quickly learned to cover my ears the instant I saw a bolt of lightning, as it was always followed by terrifying explosions of thunder that seemed to rattle the very bones within me.

  Rorid’s wings swept the air back, beat after relentless beat. Ice attached to the trailing edge of his feathers. I could tell by his labored breathing that he was straining. Perhaps we were rising, but I couldn’t be sure.

  I happened to be glancing toward Tobble when I saw a massive, jagged shaft of lightning strike a raptidon and its wobbyk and raggler passengers.

  The raptidon burst into a ball of flame. I cried out in horror as I watched the inferno tumble from the sky.

  A dead raptidon. A dead wobbyk. A dead raggler.

  I feared they wouldn’t be the last.

  25

  The Dreylanders

  The terror of that desperate flight to get above the clouds will be with me always.

  Lightning stabbed at us. Thunder shook us. Snow blinded us. My hands and feet were numb. My shoulders ached. Each breath took effort, and soon I was panting just to fill my lungs.

  Over and over again the lightning came. It was as if the sky itself had decided to destroy us. Two more raptidons spiraled down in flames as lightning made short-lived fireballs of them.

  A few other raptidons, too exhausted to go on, had to seek shelter on the ground with their passengers.

  Just as I was ready to beg Rorid to land as well, a miracle occurred: we broke through the clouds. In an instant, we’d moved from despair to a place of silent wonder.

  The clouds were below us, spread out like an endless, lumpy quilt. I could still see lightning, but it had faded to harmless flashes beneath my hanging feet. The stars were so clear and bright I had to blink.

  And there was Tobble, just to our left. He’d survived.

  “How fare you, Ambassador Byx?” Rorid asked. It was the first thing he’d said in hours.

  “Lord Rorid, I am wet down to my bones, so cold I can no longer feel my feet, and my shoulders ache as if I’d been run over by a stampede of garilans. But it’s worth it, just to see this.”

  “It is beautiful,” Rorid said, and his raptidon croak almost sounded sweet.

  “Still, I grieve for those we lost,” I said.

  “We knew,” said Rorid simply, “this would not be easy.”

  The air was no warmer, but at least it was drier, and the thunder had retreated into mild grumbling. Rorid flew on, and I suppose it showed just how exhausted I was that I actually fell asleep. From time to time, I’d wake to the reassuring sight of Rorid’s mighty wings above me. But I was asleep when he spoke next.

  “Wake up, friend dairne,” he said. “We are almost there. And there is something you may wish to see.”

  I opened my eyes and cried out in delight. The sun! Orange and yellow and fierce, it seemed to be lounging on a cushion of clouds.

  “Thank you, Lord Rorid. I’m very glad to wake to a sight like this.” After a moment to orient myself, I said, “The sun’s on our right. We’ve turned north?”

  “Yes. We follow the river Telarno. My falcon scouts have flown low. They encountered sparrows and gulls who gave them news of a battle that took place during the night. Woad’s brave humans were ambushed by an enemy force. They’ve suffered terrible losses. Now the Dreylanders are camped just outside a village called Broog.” Rorid paused. “Soon they’ll fall upon Broog and massacre every living creature, then burn the village to ashes.”

  I absorbed his words like blows. Terrible losses. Massacre. Burn. An image, unbidden, came to me of the moment I’d first laid eyes on the dead bodies of my family and friends after the Murdano’s soldiers had wreaked their havoc.

  I clenched my fists and willed away the picture in my head.

  Dothram veered in close to Rorid, almost wing tip to wing tip.

  “Tobble!” I called. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.

  “You’re not half-frozen and aching in every muscle?”

  He laughed. “Byx, my friend, you’re much bigger than I am. The weight of your own body must strain your joints. Also, my raggler sang to me all night,” he added. “It was most comforting.”

  I wondered if Tobble had witnessed the fiery deaths I’d seen. Perhaps somehow he’d missed them. I considered sharing Rorid’s news about the Dreylanders. But Tobble seemed so content. He’d know soon enough, in any case.

  Rorid, speaking Raptidon, gave instructions to Dothram, who swerved off. Tobble held his raggler with one paw and waved to me with the other.

  “Now, Ambassador Byx,” said Rorid, “we must find a place to set you down safely.”

  “Set me down? We’re not going to stop the Dreylanders?”

  “Battle is no place for an ambassador,” Rorid replied. “You are important to the Lady. I would not wish to have to report your death.”

  I hesitated. Rorid made sense. Almost. I was of very little use in battle. And the prospect terrified me. I’d seen enough to imagine the worst.

  I was an ambassador. Wasn’t I? My duty was to Khara, wasn’t it?

  But Tobble was going. How could I not?

  “No, Lord Rorid. I have to be with my wobbyk friends. They’re here because of me.”

  I think Rorid chuckled. It’s hard to tell with raptidons. “As you wish, Ambassador Byx. Draw your weapon. It is time.”

  Rorid changed the beat of his wings slightly, and soon we were surrounded by hundreds of raptidons, each armed with a wobbyk and a raggler.

  I rubbed my hands together to get some blood back in them. After adjusting the strap on the shield Varis had given me, I drew my sword.

  Rorid issued a deafening cry. All across the sky, raptidons spilled air from their wings, shooting like falling arrows down into the clouds. Down into wet cotton. Down into half-blindness.

  Faster and faster we moved, until I could barely keep my eyes open against the wind.

  I glimpsed a wisp-obscured hint of land.

  In seconds we were directly above the village of Broog. It looked to be a simple place, just thatched cottages and crooked streets dusted with snow, all surrounded by a crude
palisade. Inside the village, I saw mothers, children, and a few older people, all humans as far as I could tell, clearing the streets and dashing into houses.

  Near the palisade gate stood a cluster of men and women. They weren’t soldiers, clearly. Here and there I saw swords, but most carried pitchforks, hoes, and sticks sharpened to points that couldn’t penetrate the thinnest leather jerkin.

  Outside the gate were Woad’s people, what was left of them. Perhaps a hundred were there, many bandaged and hobbling, others lying on stretchers.

  Woad had formed his warriors into a shield wall, each shield held to overlap the ones on either side. Behind the wall, a dozen big men, spears raised, stood ready to plug any gap.

  It was professional and impressive. No one but a fool would want to attack that grim barrier.

  Except for one heart-wrenching fact. The shield wall was made up of fifty humans, from end to end.

  Approaching them were a thousand warriors in the livery of the Kazar. Each was well armed. Each seemed fresh and eager. At best, Woad’s fighters could only look determined, if weary.

  The Dreylanders also had a shield wall. It was four times the length of Woad’s. Row upon row of warriors stood ready to replace the front line. For the most part, they were humans, but I saw a half-dozen felivets roaming the ends of the shield wall, and four great terramants with human warriors riding atop their shiny, segmented backs.

  Behind the line of horse-size insects stood a man dressed more finely than the rest, armor glittering.

  “Their general,” I muttered.

  “Indeed,” Rorid said. “And he is mine!”

  26

  The First Battle

  The raptidons veered as one to the east, past the battlefield below. “When you attack from the air,” Rorid explained, “it is good to have the light at your back. Ground dwellers are blinded by the sun.”

  We flew on, unnoticed, it seemed, by the Dreylanders or Woad’s soldiers. As we pivoted in a wide turn, the raptidons, with silent, effortless grace, formed into three large V shapes, one formation behind the other.