“Monster.” The best Jirina could manage was a whisper. “The monster. What happened.”
“Don’t worry about that,” the doctor said. “I’m going to give you something to help you sleep. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
“No,” Jirina muttered. “Father. Need to speak…”
He wasn’t listening. She felt a cold touch at the back of her neck, and the world faded away again.
***
The next time she woke up, her mind was clearer and the pain was back. Not as bad as it had been, not the knife-like stab of something badly wrong, but a dull, throbbing ache all through her chest. She blinked, groaned, and tried to raise her head.
“General? She’s awake.” It was a different doctor, but Jirina barely got a glimpse of him as he scurried away. He was replaced by the familiar features of her father, shaven-headed and mustached, in the formal uniform he invariably wore.
“Jirina,” he said. “Can you speak?”
“I…can,” Jirina said, and swallowed.
“Good. They informed me that you would be mostly recovered by this morning.” He looked over his shoulders. “Leave us, please. The Captain and I have matters to discuss.”
“Of course, sir.”
The doctor closed the door as he left and there was a moment of silence. The General looked uncomfortable, as though struggling with unfamiliar emotions.
“I am…pleased that you have returned,” he said eventually. “It had been long enough that there was…some concern. Over the success of your mission.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jirina said. “But I have to report I did not succeed. Captain Lukka is still at large.”
“Perhaps you had better give your report from the beginning,” Kudro said.
Jirina swallowed hard but obeyed, going through her first confrontation with Lukka and his strange ally, the side trip to Skysail, and the eventual battle at the Ozolith that had claimed the lives of the hunters. The General listened, unmoved, as she described the destruction of the Vermilion. His expression flickered only when she came to her own escape, how the winged cat had taken her from the dying ship and brought her back to Drannith.
“That monster,” he said. “It is the same one that Captain Lukka communicated with? You’re certain?”
“I’m certain,” Jirina said. “What happened after we landed on the wall? Did it escape?”
“The officer in command heard your request to keep it alive,” Kudro said. “He was able to capture it, since it didn’t seem inclined to resist.”
It’s alive. Somehow, that was a relief. Jirina wasn’t sure she was thinking rationally, but at the very least the monster represented some kind of connection to Lukka. And it saved my life…
As though reading her thoughts, Kudro said, “Do you know why the monster assisted you?”
“I can only speculate, sir,” Jirina said.
“Speculate, then.”
“At the Ozolith, Lukka saw me aboard Vermilion as it was falling. I believe he may have instructed the monster to rescue me and take me home. Whatever has happened to him”—her voice wavered a fraction—“he still cares for me.”
“Mmm,” Kudro said. “And his command over the creature is strong enough to do this?”
“Evidently, sir. I can think of no other explanation.”
“That in itself is troubling.” Kudro sighed. “Rumors are spreading, Captain. My own daughter arrived at the city walls on the back of a monster. A dozen common soldiers saw it, so we could hardly hope to keep things quiet. It has produced…some unrest.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“It’s not your fault, Captain.” Kudro straightened up. “Rest now. I promise you, I will take care of everything.”
***
It was another day before the doctors pronounced her fit to leave her bed. Jirina spent it fretting impatiently, while simultaneously feeling vaguely guilty—any common soldier with her injuries wouldn’t have had access to magical healing and might have been laid up for months if they recovered at all. Still, she gave a sigh of relief when the pokes and prods ended and an awed ranker brought her a fresh uniform and boots. Dressed and feeling properly clean for the first time in weeks, she emerged from the infirmary to find a courier waiting.
“Captain Jirina.” The woman saluted. “The General wishes to know if you are prepared to make a public appearance.”
“I need to eat something first,” Jirina said. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of real food. “After that, certainly.”
“Very good, sir. He instructs you to meet him on the Citadel steps in two hours.”
That was Kudro all over, Jirina reflected: polite enough to ask, and certain enough of your response to have his answer already planned. She ducked into one of the Citadel’s cafeterias and wolfed down a bowl of beef and rice, simple soldier’s food that felt like an unspeakable luxury after so long living on trail rations. After a quick trip back to her quarters to work over her hair, she hurried down to the main floor, where the sounds of a crowd filtered in even through the massive fortress doors.
The Citadel’s main doors, massive iron-and-oak things that were opened only on ceremonial occasions, let onto an equally massive set of marble steps, spreading wider as they descended until they reached the market square in front of the fortress. It was the usual place for the General or other high-ranking officers to address the people of Drannith, and Jirina had stood beside her father many times while he’d made some proclamation or other. She wasn’t sure why he needed her now, but she knew better than to argue.
Colonel Bryd was waiting in the marble-floored lobby, uniform immaculate, his expression as pompous as ever. He gave her a condescending nod.
“Captain.”
Jirina saluted. “Colonel. I’m supposed to be meeting my father.”
“He’s outside, overseeing preparations.” The colonel looked her over appraisingly. “It was good to hear you’ve returned in one piece.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Jirina said, keeping a sarcastic spin off the words with an effort. No doubt it would please Bryd to no end if both the General’s daughter and his rising star disappeared into the wilds and never came back.
“It sounds as though they’re ready for us,” the colonel said. “Come with me.”
They went out through a smaller postern door beside the main gate, and Jirina found herself blinking in the midday sun. The crowd noise redoubled, a swelling murmur broken by individual shouts and whistles. Below, on the steps, two companies of the elite Citadel Guard stood at attention, and beyond them was a mob of Drannith commoners, eager as always for the promise of a show. What grabbed Jirina’s attention was a wooden platform at the top of the steps, where the General would usually stand to speak. Splayed out on the boards, held down by weighted chains as thick as Jirina’s neck, was the winged cat.
“They brought it here?” Jirina hissed at Colonel Bryd. “A monster on the steps of the Citadel?”
“A monster that has been very tightly bound,” the colonel said. “The General insisted. Come.”
He descended and Jirina followed. At the sight of her, the murmur of the crowd rose higher. More Citadel Guards were arrayed around the monster, long spears lowered and ready to skewer it. General Kudro himself stood on the wooden platform near the winged cat’s head, hands tucked behind his back, watching the crowd. Beside him, resting on a table, a long-handled greatsword gleamed in the sun.
Oh, no. Jirina’s stomach knotted. No. They can’t mean to…
Of course they can, something in her head replied. It’s a monster. This is what you do with monsters.
“Sir,” Jirina said quietly, as she and Bryd came to stand beside the General. “Sir, this is not a good idea.”
Kudro smiled, but there was no humor in it. He kept his voice low, nearly inaudible under the roar of the crowd.
/> “Not a good idea? Captain, killing monsters is always a good idea.”
“This monster may be our only connection to Captain Lukka. If we’re going to find him–”
“A monster he controls utterly? Under what circumstances could we use that to find him without taking on a terrible risk?”
“I’d take on the risk, sir.” She looked at the winged cat, which stared back at her with huge, yellow eyes. “It saved my life once already.”
“Only a fool, having thrown the dice and seen them come up sixes, bets everything on it happening a second time,” Kudro said. “No, the creature must die. And you, Captain, must kill it.”
“Me?” Jirina found herself taking a half-step back from the waiting greatsword. “Why?”
“Because,” Kudro said, still smiling for the crowd, “the rumors that have begun to spread say that you and Captain Lukka are both traitors to humanity. That you both have turned to the wilds, allying yourself with monsters, and that the manner of your return here is the proof. That if I do not deal with you, you will betray Drannith and doom us all.”
“That’s absurd,” Jirina said.
“I agree,” the General said. “But if the people believe it, then my hands are tied.” He lowered his voice even further, so Jirina had to lean in to hear. “You know as well as I do, daughter, that I will not be able to bear my responsibilities forever. I had hoped Captain Lukka might grow into someone worth to be my successor. Now that is impossible. But you…”
He took a breath. “You were always my second choice for the job. Not to demean your ability, you understand. But Drannith is not a kingdom and I am not a king, and it is not entirely seemly that my position should pass on within my family. Despite that, there is no one I trust more, and in the absence of Captain Lukka you are the only logical choice. Unless, of course, the people have lost all trust in you. Do you understand?”
“I…” Jirina wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. For years, she’d wondered if her father would ever acknowledge her abilities, if he was even capable of seeing his daughter as a competent officer. For him to say this now, and so bluntly, was… Very much like the General, I suppose. But…
She took a deep breath. “I still don’t think we need to kill this monster. Not now, at any rate. It might be a bargaining chip, or–”
“We have no choice,” Kudro hissed. “You have no choice. They’ve all seen you, now. Do you know what they will say if you turn away?”
“You could have warned me,” Jirina shot back.
“I could have.”
And, suddenly, she realized the truth. This is a test. The rumors might be absurd, but Kudro himself wasn’t immune to the speculation. What if his daughter, his precious would-be heir, had been infected by whatever sympathy for monsters had already taken Lukka? He’d arranged this show for her to prove her loyalty, not just to the crowd, but to him.
Jirina put her hand on the hilt of the greatsword. It was a long, heavy weapon with a weighted tip, perfect for cleaving flesh and bone with a single downward stroke. The winged cat’s neck was stretched out by the chains that bound it. One swing, if she was good enough, and it would all be over.
The cat blinked, slowly. She wondered how much it understood about what was happening. She saw it on the plain, leading her to the stream to drink, twisting to put its own body between her and the guards’ crossbows.
“I…can’t,” Jirina said. She spoke with a sense of wonder, surprising even herself.
“What?” Kudro hissed.
“This monster saved my life.” Jirina shook her head. “We kill the monsters because they try to kill us. That’s how it always has been. But this one hasn’t hurt me. Since it bonded with Lukka, it hasn’t hurt anyone. I can’t just…kill it, now, for bringing me home.”
“Daughter.” Kudro’s voice was deadly calm. “Think about what you’re saying.”
“Believe me, I have,” Jirina said. “I won’t do it, Father.”
The crowd’s shouts rose. For a long moment, Kudro did nothing.
Then, finally, he said, “Colonel Bryd.”
“Yes, sir?” Bryd stepped forward, and Jirina could hear the smirk in his voice.
“My daughter is…tired. Please return her to her quarters.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Father,” Jirina said, as the colonel took her arm. “Please. You don’t have to–”
“Someone does,” Kudro muttered, as he lifted the greatsword.
***
Jirina. Lukka slept beside a boulder, in the shade of a stunted tree, surrounded by the hulking black shapes of his nightmares. What happened to you?
At his direction, the nightmares had searched for days, first through the wreck of the skyship and then all around the Ozolith. There were plenty of bodies, damaged to varying degrees, but none of them were wearing a Coppercoat uniform. And I saw her wearing that, for certain. It had been a brief glimpse, as the ship was falling, but he was sure. So what happened to her?
His army had grown, was still growing. Whenever a monster wandered close enough to the Ozolith, Lukka exerted his will and power flowed through the giant crystal and bound it to him. He had servants from every clade now, not just nightmares, but cats and beasts, dinosaurs and elementals, a huge cloud-drake and a flock of tiny, vicious spear-mice. He put them to work in the search, sending them the image of Jirina.
If she got away, she can’t have gone far. With no ship, no monster to ride, she was stuck walking. But that still meant a huge region to search, all around the Ozolith, thick with wandering monsters not yet under Lukka’s control. If she met with one of them, she could be in some dinosaur’s stomach by now. He’d tried to harden himself to the possibility that his searchers might turn up her corpse, but the thought of that, of never knowing for certain, was too much to bear.
Monsters brought him water and meat from their kills, and he scavenged rations from the dead sailors and hunters. The Ozolith had expanded his perceptions, his mind flitting from monster to monster, so much that his body didn’t seem to matter anymore. But he still had to sleep, curled awkwardly in his ragged greatcoat against a boulder.
Now he woke with a gasp as a vision unfolded behind his eyes. He saw the Citadel of Drannith, a towering mountain of stone built around the vast green shape of the Argalith. He was on the front steps, where he’d walked many times, returning from a successful mission or off to his next adventure. They were crowded with people, as they often were, held back by the Citadel Guard.
He felt tight, painful chains on his body, running sores on his stomach where he’d been wounded and never allowed to heal. He–
No. The sensation was familiar. The winged cat.
He hadn’t found her, either, after the battle. He’d assumed that whatever power the Ozolith had gifted him had somehow interfered with their bond and the creature had simply left of her own accord. But the link between them still functioned, and she was in Drannith, far to the south, bound on the Citadel steps with heavy iron chains. She managed to turn her head, just a little.
Jirina. She stood beside her father, engaged in a furious, whispered argument. She’s alive. Alive, clean, apparently unhurt. She looked furious. General Kudro’s expression was a mask, but Lukka knew the old man well enough to guess that he was angry too.
Emotion pulsed at him from the winged cat. A feeling, directed toward Jirina—protection, satisfaction. The image of a long flight, away from danger.
You…saved her? He remembered watching the skyship falling, watching Jirina falling, and reaching out—But I never asked you to…
The colonel standing beside Jirina took her arm and dragged her away, up the steps. Kudro stepped forward and picked up a long, gleaming greatsword.
What is he doing?
But, of course, Lukka knew.
Satisfaction, the cat sent him. And then, sadnes
s.
The blade came down, and the link vanished.
Lukka lay against the boulder for a long time, motionless. Eventually he forced himself to rise, eyes wet with tears, jaw tight with fury.
Jirina is in Drannith. In Drannith. And the cat had taken her there, knowing how much he cared for her.
He closed his eyes and his will lashed out, power spreading further and faster than it ever had before. Across the plain, monsters froze, crackling with orange light. Then, as one, they turned to face south. As one, they began to move, coming together like a hundred streams merging to form a mighty river.
The largest creature in Lukka’s immediate entourage, a six-legged dinosaur with a long, curving neck, came up beside him with footsteps that shook the earth. It bent its head down, meekly, and Lukka pulled himself astride it, heedless of where its tough scales tore his uniform. He rubbed his eyes as it straightened up, lifting him high into the air.
Jirina was in Drannith.
And I’m going home.
Chapter Seven
Jirina was not, officially, under arrest. That would have involved public charges against her, and her father was apparently not—yet—willing to go that far. Instead, she was kept in her chambers, with a detail of Citadel Guards under Colonel Bryd’s direct command stationed outside. Meals were brought to her and visitors were kept away.
She wasn’t sure what would happen if she insisted on leaving and forced a confrontation. Nothing good, I suspect. At the height of her anger, she would have done it anyway. She had faked being a hostage to help Lukka escape, then followed him across the length of the plains. And now…
I’m tired.
The first few days, she spent mostly in bed. After that, the restlessness of confinement began to set in and she paced the little room and its balcony like a caged tiger. It didn’t help that everything about the place was saturated in memories of Lukka—on the balcony, in her bed, talking about his latest mission or kissing her with quiet intensity.
And now Lukka is… I don’t even know. He was alive, at least, but if her father was to be believed, he’d turned against humanity, become an ally of the monsters. Jirina wasn’t sure she believed that, but after what she’d seen at the Ozolith, she didn’t know what she did believe.
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