by Martha Wells
They reached the next landing down, where three passages split off. One led forward into the pyramid’s central shaft, another led to the right, turning narrow, concealing the room it opened into. Moon heard the bubble of fountains and, over the sick stench of Fell, he caught the scent of the poison. And a faint sound of movement, something like hissing, breathing.
He went down the right hand passage in a bound, the hunters right behind him. The doorway at the end opened into a long chamber with an open-roofed court in the center. It was full of dead and dying dakti.
They sprawled everywhere, smaller and shriveled in death. Chunks of bloody meat, already attracting buzzing insects, lay among them. Kethel meat, Moon thought, with some satisfaction. That’s what they get for eating each other. The stench was unbelievable.
Behind him, a startled hunter asked, “Is that one of us?” In the nearest pile of dakti was a body, no scales, the naked skin light-colored but mottled with green and black. The hunter reached down for it, meaning to pull it away from the pile.
Moon lunged in and grabbed his arm before he could touch it. “No, it’s a dakti!”
“He’s right.” Bone shoved forward, giving the white form a kick. “That’s the dakti’s other form. Like our groundling forms, but—” The shifted dakti writhed away from him, unable to stand but still snarling defiance, barring fangs. It had harsh features, flat empty eyes, dark hair matted and ragged.“—not much like.” Bone disemboweled the creature with one swipe of his claws.
Someone in the back said, “It’s killing them, not just making them sleep like it did Strike. And why did only one of them shift?”
“Only one so far,” someone else answered. “Maybe that one got less than the others.”
“Flower always did make strong simples,” Bone said, turning away from the dying dakti. “And there’s power in anything made by a mentor.”
It’s probably lucky we didn’t kill Strike, Moon thought. But then Flower hadn’t been thinking about killing Raksura when she brewed the poison. “Keep moving.” He turned back to the passage.
Out in the stairwell he saw flashes of gold, copper, and blue as Aeriat dropped through the central well; a moment later dakti screamed in chorus. Moon snarled, wanting to join the fight, but he kept to Jade’s instructions and led the way down the stairs to the next level.
This was the fourth level up from the river terraces, and the landing led to several doorways and passages. Moving rapidly from one to the other, Moon found nothing but empty rooms with storage baskets and cushions tumbled around, smashed pottery, and broken tools.
Then with a little cry of horror, a hunter jerked back from a doorway. Moon leapt forward and grabbed the hunter’s spines to drag him out of the way, expecting a flood of dakti or the missing kethel. But the room was empty, except for bundles strewn across the floor.
Then he saw the bodies, some wrapped in blood-stained clothing.
He stepped inside, feeling the dirty floor grit under his claws. Arbora started to push in after him, and he snarled, “Stay out there!” It could be a trap. The room was empty except for the corpses, the carved figures of the ancient groundlings staring dispassionately down from the stone beams. There were no other doorways, but the dakti could swarm in through the air shafts.
The Arbora scrambled back, obeying without argument. Moon moved forward, tasting the air, but all he could smell was Fell and death. We’re too late, he thought, sick at heart. He knew there was nothing he could have done; he and Jade had returned as fast as they could. And the Fell didn’t come to Indigo Cloud for you, he reminded himself. That didn’t help.
But as he stepped further into the room, he saw this death wasn’t new. From the smell of rot, these people must have died days ago, not long after the colony had been taken. There were at least forty or fifty bodies, mostly Arbora, male and female, and a few taller, slimmer shapes that had to be Aeriat. Most were in groundling form, only a few in Raksuran. All were twisted and broken, skin or hide slashed by claws. He heard a step behind him and glanced back, baring his fangs, but it was Bone. The other hunters still held the stairwell.
Moon looked back down at the bodies again and recognized a face. It was Shell, one of the soldiers who had tried to chase him out of the colony his first day here, when Chime had hurried to defend him. Shell was in groundling form, ripped from chin to crotch, his eyes still open. His hands were curled claw-like, dark residue caught under his fingernails, in his teeth.
Moon looked away. The Fell didn’t eat them. But they ate the Raksura at Sky Copper. He had a very vivid recollection of the dakti with the arm clutched in its jaws. And Stone had found few intact bodies when he had searched the mound. It doesn’t make sense.
Bone circled the rows of bodies. His voice thick with misery, he said, “These are mostly soldiers. They must have fought.” Then he froze, looking down, hissing in dismay.
Moon moved to his side, and found himself staring down at Petal’s face. She was in her groundling form, gray and rigid in death.
He looked up. Bone’s spines rippled in fury.
“We’re wasting time,” Moon said, and turned for the doorway.
On the next level down they found a score of dakti trying to flee down a passage, flushed out of hiding by the Aeriat on the other side of the building. Moon helped corner them, then let the Arbora thoroughly tear them apart before he made them head down the stairs again.
On the level below, Moon hissed for silence. He could hear something below, a flurry of movement, hissing. He took the last turn, coming down to where the stairs ended in a junction of two large passages. One led out to a big room with an opening to the outside, letting in cool air. But he sensed movement down the left hand passage, a lot of movement.
“That’s the soldiers and hunters’ bowers,” Bone whispered.
That meant the hall would have many tall doorways opening to small, curtained-off rooms, some at floor level and some above it. If it followed the same plan as the other bower halls, the rooms were just stone partitions, not completely enclosed. Moon asked, “Air shafts in from the outside walls?”
“Yes!” Bone turned, signaling half the hunters to head toward to the outside opening.
Moon went down the passage to the bowers. Through the doorway ahead he could see a partition wall, and not much else. The hissing had stopped, and he was certain the dakti knew the Raksura were here.
Moon swung up to the top of the doorway and glanced inside: the hall was full of dakti, most clinging to the ceiling carvings, ready to drop on whoever walked in. They saw him and shrieked in rage.
Moon leapt into the hall and shot across the ceiling, hooking his claws into the carvings, tossing startled dakti off right and left. From their screams of alarm, they had been prepared for Arbora, but not an Aeriat. The floor was already littered with pale, mottled bodies: poisoned dakti shifted to groundling. This flight must be huge. Without the poison’s help, the Raksura would have been easily overwhelmed.
The Arbora followed Moon in a wave. More dropped down through the air shafts from outside. A dakti landed on Moon’s back and was plucked off by an Arbora before he could even reach for it.
Moon reached the far end of the hall and saw the dakti falling back, grouping around one of the bowers, protecting something inside. Renewed shrieks from the dakti made him glance back. The Aeriat had arrived, dropping down the air shafts. They must have heard the commotion and come around the outside of the colony. “Here!” he shouted. He was certain the dakti were protecting a ruler.
Moon leapt down onto the top of the wall, knocking the dakti away. Bone charged up the stairs, ripping into the dakti as those below crammed into the doorway, trying to block him. Moon still couldn’t see the ruler. Two large basket beds blocked his view of part of the bower. He dropped down into it, close to the wall, and something surged out from under the nearest bed.
It was the groundling form of a kethel, big, muscular and naked. Its face was boney, eyes set back deep in the
ir sockets, fanged teeth long and yellow. Moon ducked the wild punch aimed at his head and came up slashing, ripping open the kethel’s belly. It still attacked, grabbing at his shoulders, lunging in to bite him. But his scales deflected its teeth. He got an arm around its throat and threw his weight down to snap its neck.
The kethel collapsed. Moon jumped over it and tore the beds aside. A ruler shot up at him and, unlike the kethel, it wasn’t in groundling form. It knocked Moon backwards, flat on his back.
It gripped his throat, its weight pinning his legs. Desperately, he clawed at its hands, trying to get a knee up to push it off. It was too strong, it had him pinned. He could feel its claws about to pierce his scales. He saw a flash of gold and indigo from above, then Pearl landed on the ruler, straddling it. She gripped the bony crest behind its head and reached around to grab its chin with her claws and twist. The ruler’s eyes turned stark with terror, right before they went blank with death.
Pearl tossed the body away, slamming it into the bower’s wall, then leapt up and out of the chamber.
Moon bounced to his feet, looking around for the next Fell, but everything in the bower was dead. He swung up to the top of the partition wall for a view of the hall. Dead dakti, whole and in pieces, lay everywhere. Warriors and hunters tore through the bowers searching for more. Jade stood in the center of the hall, tail lashing, waiting for the others to finish the search.
Chime leapt up onto the wall next to Moon. He was panting and covered with Fell blood. Wild-eyed, he said, “That’s two kethel dead outside and one in here. There’s still at least two left.”
Clinging to the stone beams above, Vine said, “This flight must have been huge! I’ve never seen so many dakti—”
“Back here!” Bone shouted from somewhere toward the back of the hall. “Here!”
Moon jumped to the next bower, then the next, following Bone’s voice, as the Aeriat and the hunters scuttled across the walls, or leapt after him. He reached the last partition to see Bone standing at an archway that led into the next hall of bowers. He jumped down to Bone’s side. Then he saw what filled the next hall, and just stood there, staring.
The room was packed with large globes of a mottled, glassy substance, each as big as a small house, crammed in between the bowers. Sacs. The sacs that kethel made, to attach to their bodies and carry dakti. They filled the entire hall.
Jade pushed through into the doorway to stand beside Moon and Bone. The others, hunters and Aeriat, crowded behind them, some hanging from the top of the archway to see inside. Everyone was silent with shock.
“Why would they keep dakti in here like this?” Jade said under her breath. She stepped cautiously up to the nearest sac. She leaned close to it, peering into the mottled surface. Then she jerked back with a hiss, slashing it open with her claws.
The mass split open and a dozen limp figures tumbled out, sprawling on the stone floor. They were Arbora and a couple of Aeriat, all in groundling form, their clothes stained, stinking of unwashed skin and fear sweat. But not rot. Jade dropped to her knees and rolled the nearest Arbora over to touch his face. She cried out, “They’re alive!”
Bone and the others surged forward. Moon caught hold of the side of the archway to keep from being carried along. As they all ran to the other sacs, Pearl leapt up to the wall of a bower, snarling at them, “Look first! Make certain it’s Raksura inside, not dakti!”
Then someone cried out in anguished relief, “The clutches! The clutches are in this one, back here!”
It went straight through Moon’s heart, and he couldn’t watch anymore. He turned back to the outer chamber, just in case there were any stray dakti survivors creeping up behind them. The others’ raw emotion made him uncomfortable, and he still felt painfully like an outsider. That’s because you are an outsider, he reminded himself. The only thing that had changed was that now he didn’t want to be one any more.
Then from outside, through the air shafts, he heard a whoosh of big wings. “Kethel!” he yelled, darting to the nearest shaft. He scrambled up to reach an outside ledge. Framed against the dying sun, one kethel was already in the air, and a second launched itself up from the terrace below. A cluster of dakti rode the first, huddled down to cling to its back. Moon thought the larger figure just behind the armored crest might be a ruler. Good, they’re leaving, he thought. As the second kethel banked away from the colony, he saw the gray, bulbous mass attached to its chest. It was carrying a sac.
It could be full of dakti, but Moon had to make certain. He jumped into the air, hard flaps carrying him up after the kethel. He got up under its belly, but couldn’t get a good look at the sac from this angle. If it’s full of dakti, you’re going to feel stupid, he thought, and shot up to hook his claws into the kethel’s belly plates.
He clawed his way up toward the creature’s chest and swung forward, close to the sac, peering through the cloudy surface. He saw shapes, then realized he was looking at someone in groundling form, crammed against the wall of the sac, at least two other forms behind her.
Her eyes opened. Moon stared, horrified. He couldn’t slash the sac open—if they were all Arbora, they would fall to their deaths, and he could only catch one.
Then the kethel’s big, clawed hand came at him and he twisted away, leaping off and snapping his wings in. He slipped through the creature’s fingers, falling in an uncontrolled tumble. He extended his wings, catching himself and craning his neck to see the kethel.
Both creatures flew hard, shooting swiftly away over the valley. Cursing to himself, Moon circled back toward the colony.
Jade and Pearl stood on the ledge outside the air shaft. Jade called, “Moon, what was it? What did you see?”
Moon landed on the ledge above her, leaning down. “It had one of the sacs, with Arbora trapped inside!”
Jade turned to Pearl. Pearl’s spines flared out, and she said, “Go after them; take the Aeriat!”
Jade shouted back into the colony, calling the Aeriat, and Moon took to the air, chasing the kethel.
Chapter Eighteen
The two kethel flew at their best speed, their shapes etched against the night sky, so fast only Stone could have caught up with them. Flying full out, Moon could just keep them in sight.
He looked back to see the warriors already dropping back. No matter how hard they flew, the younger and smaller fell the farthest behind. This isn’t going to work, Moon thought desperately. He slowed to fly level with Jade, circling her to shout,“ You stay with them. I’ll follow the kethel!”
Jade circled with him, looking back at the warriors, grimacing in despair. The Aeriat were strung out in a long line, with only Vine and River coming close to keeping up. “Are you sure? If they stop—”
“This could be what they want. If you don’t stay in a group, they could send dakti back to swarm the stragglers.” The danger would just increase as the night wore on.
Jade growled in reluctant agreement. “Leave us markers so we won’t lose your trail.”
“Wait, wait!” That was Chime, flying full out to catch up with them. He slowed into a circle, panting, and said, “Here, take this, just in case you can use it.”
It was one of the waterskins of poison. Chime held it out and Moon caught it, slinging it over his shoulder.
“Be careful!” Jade called. As she and Chime banked to turn back, Moon flew ahead to catch up with the kethel.
All too soon he lost sight of the others, and it was just him and the kethel, alone under the vault of stars. The kethel slowed their pace a little, and Moon hung back as far as he dared, both to conserve his strength and to stay at the far end of their range of vision. He hoped that if they looked back, he would just blend in to the night sky.
They headed mostly northwest, with no abrupt changes of direction. Moon stopped briefly at likely outcrops to pile up stones pointing the way. He hoped that was what Jade had meant when she said to leave markers; he had no idea what other kind of markers to leave. Whenever he landed, he notice
d how awkwardly heavy the waterskin of poison was, and he didn’t think he would be able to use it. If the rulers killed at the colony hadn’t managed to pass on a warning about poisoned water, then the kethel certainly would. But he might find something to do with it. It was too valuable a weapon to just abandon.
As dawn broke, the forested valleys came to an abrupt halt, giving way to a flat plain of yellow grass crossed by shallow streams and dotted with trees. There’s no cover, Moon thought, cursing the Fell. None. A baby treeling couldn’t hide in that. They had probably chosen this path deliberately, knowing that any pursuers would be completely exposed.
The grass was sparse, barely knee-high. Trees as slender as rods stood as much as two hundred paces high. Their canopies fanned out like round sunshades, the light green leaves providing little barrier to the eyes of anything flying over. The rocky streams were nearly flat too, barely a few fingers deep, the water glittering in the sunlight. It would be a perfect hunting ground for the major kethel.
Moon landed long enough to make another arrow out of rocks, pointing the way across the plain.
By late evening, the stench of Fell was heavy on the wind, and Moon thought the kethel must be close to their destination. The streams winding through the plain had coalesced into a broad river running toward a series of ridges and the foot of a distant escarpment. Moon spotted some hopping grasseaters near the river and made a snap decision to take one. He had no idea how much longer the kethel meant to fly, and he couldn’t keep up this pace on an empty stomach.
He stooped on a hopper before the herd knew he was there, killed it, and ate nearly fast enough to make himself sick. Then he flew to the river to drink and quickly wash the blood off. There, he discovered the banks were dark with what looked like metal-mud. Hah, finally, a little luck. Moon scraped his claws through the mud to make certain, then dropped and rolled in it, wincing at the metallic odor, extending his wings to thoroughly coat his whole body.