by Martha Wells
Leaning over the rail to look at the platform the Aventeran had indicated, Moon asked, “Can you even get the boat down there?”
“Eventually.” With an air of dissatisfaction, Delin examined the spot with his spyglass. “They have some hooks and rings for tying off their own craft. I would have to drop the anchor blocks, tie off to secure them, and then winch the ship down.” He lowered the spyglass and frowned. “It would be easier if we tied off at this level and one of you flew me over to a balcony.”
Celadon and Ivory had come over to listen. Celadon said, “Tell them that. Depending on the conversation we have, we may not be staying long.”
Delin took the speaking tube from Chime and conducted an argument with the bladder-boat. Finally it gave in and they were directed to a broad, relatively sheltered balcony just below the right shoulder of the giant statue.
As Delin maneuvered the boat closer, Moon saw several Aventerans appear on the balcony. He recognized Ennia, but Havram was absent. Hopefully that was a good sign. From their grim expressions, none of the Aventerans were particularly glad to see them.
Ivory studied the balcony with a faint frown. “Should I come with you?” she asked Celadon.
“No. I’ll take my warriors, Moon, and Delin. And no, not you, Shade,” she added as he opened his mouth to object. “You’re here against my will and without Malachite’s permission, and I have no intention of rewarding you with a tour of a groundling city.”
Shade subsided and at least looked a little chastened.
Lithe hunched her shoulders in a spine-settling gesture that looked odd on her slim groundling form. “Be careful. They don’t look friendly.”
“Did you ever have any auguries?” Celadon asked her.
“No.” Lithe’s expression was a mix of annoyance and disappointment. “I tried twice last night, and again this morning. All I can see is danger from the Fell, nothing certain. It’s blotting out everything else like a huge thundercloud.”
That wasn’t encouraging.
“Just watch the tiller, and make certain nothing jars it, and all should be well,” Delin told Chime. Delin had chosen him to be in charge of the boat while he was gone, and Moon had chosen Floret to make certain Ivory’s warriors listened to Chime and to enforce any commands he gave.
Two warriors carried the lines over to the balcony to secure the boat and keep it from drifting away, then Moon took Delin and flew across with Celadon and her warriors.
Ennia nodded gravely to them and led them through an arched doorway into a large room. It didn’t look like it was meant for meetings or even for sitting in comfort. The walls and floor were all polished stone, and there were no rugs or furniture. It was lit by one of the arrays of small glowing balls that hung from the ceiling, and two more open doorways led to a hall, which drew the air in off the open balcony and through the room. The cool draft couldn’t be very comfortable for the Aventerans.
Ennia seemed to feel all the awkwardness of the situation. “Celadon, after our last… I did not think you would come again. And in such a strange craft.” She looked almost warily at Delin.
Celadon kept her expression and her voice even and neutral. “It belongs to our friend, Delin-Evran-lindel, a scholar of the Golden Isles. He wishes to speak to you.”
Ennia nodded politely to Delin, but her expression was doubtful. “You are not…”
“A shapeshifter?” he said. “No, merely a friend to the Raksura.”
One of the other Aventerans said, “Being a friend to the Raksura seems to attract danger from other creatures, like the Fell.” Moon recognized him as Livan, the Aventerans’ shaman, or archimaster as Havram had called him. And Livan was being free with his opinions, considering until a few days ago he hadn’t heard of the Fell at all.
Delin eyed him thoughtfully, like Livan was a student who might possibly be worth the effort to instruct. He said, “Why do you say that? From what I understand, you are no friend to the Raksura, having ordered them out of your city after they rescued a child from a Fell ruler.”
Celadon flicked a spine, startled. Possibly because this was what she had wanted to say, and was surprised Delin had said it for her.
Ennia frowned at Livan, but Livan said, stiffly, “If they had never come to our city, the ruler would never have tried to injure the child.”
“No,” Delin admitted. “It would have hid among you until it was time to call down the others, attack your city, destroy it, and eat all your children, followed by all yourselves.”
There was an uneasy stir in the room, as if a wind colder than the draft from the balcony had blown through. Livan started to answer, but swallowed the words. No one argued. Something happened, Moon thought. After we left, something else happened. Maybe they would be willing to listen after all.
Delin must have expected a rebuttal, but didn’t let himself be thrown off course when it didn’t come. He continued, “I am from the Golden Isles, a small nation to the east, in what is often called the Yellow Sea. The court of Indigo Cloud once drove off an attempt by the Fell to assault our city, so we owe the Raksura our safety and continued existence.”
Celadon looked startled, as well she might, and was probably wondering why Moon hadn’t mentioned this to her before. Moon managed to keep his expression serious, though it was an effort. And people think I’m a liar. Delin wasn’t exactly lying, but exaggerating massively. He had made the incident sound like a Fell flight had descended on the Golden Isles with the intent to feed on the city, and had been driven off by a Raksuran court. Instead, one Fell ruler on an enslaved cloud-walker had followed Moon, Jade, and the warriors there, and had attacked the harbor when they arrived. The attack had ceased when Jade had killed the ruler.
But Ennia didn’t seem reassured by Delin’s version of the incident. Her expression tightened, as if she was suppressing some strong emotion. She said, in a low voice, “I see. You must have been very grateful.”
“Yes. One is, in such circumstances.” Delin seemed as puzzled by her reaction as Moon was. Persisting, he said, “The Fell are insidious creatures. In the lands to the east and the Abascene Peninsula, they are like the powerful storms that come in from the oceans, unpredictable, deadly, and inevitable. It is their nature to be predators, and parasites. You must understand that everything they do and say, everything they are, is bent toward that end. It is all they know.”
Ennia’s mouth set in a thin line, and there was despair in her expression. “I am beginning to realize that is true.”
Celadon’s eyes narrowed. She demanded, “What is it? What happened after we left?”
Ennia stepped back, and said, “I’m sorry.”
Moon heard a yell from somewhere outside and swung around in time to see an object like a dark cloud shoot through the air and strike the flying boat. The boat swayed over from the weight, but didn’t capsize. As it righted, Moon realized the object was a giant net. He hissed, to a chorus of shocked and angry growls from the warriors. Then a howl that sent a chill right through him shattered the air.
It was a major kethel.
Chapter Sixteen
Celadon rounded on Ennia with a snarl. “You’ll regret this.”
“I regret it now, but they took hostages,” Ennia said, still backing away. The other Aventerans scattered, some ran out of the room. “We had no choice.”
Celadon showed her fangs. “They’ll kill you all.”
“Fools!” Delin shouted, furious. “You could have spoken to us, warned us, we could have helped you—”
It’ll be dakti first, not rulers, Moon thought, looking frantically around. The rulers would know a queen was here and wouldn’t want to fight her until she had been worn down by the dakti. And they couldn’t count on Ivory and the others escaping the net that held the flying boat in time to help. He couldn’t scent anything, but then the room had been chosen for the draft of air blowing into the city, preventing them from detecting the Fell taint. Livan was the only Aventeran who hadn’t fled; he rem
ained near Ennia, and he had lifted his hands and spoke in a soft voice.
Moon realized abruptly what that meant and flung himself forward. He rammed into Livan before the shaman could finish whatever magic he was making. Livan fell backward and struck the floor, and his head banged into the hard paving. Moon bounced to his feet as Celadon said, “This way!”
One of the warriors grabbed Delin and they bounded out into the hall. It was wide, with a few Aventerans huddled against the curving walls. One end was open to a stairwell, the other blocked by a set of closed doors.
Moon still couldn’t scent anything amid the confusing drafts, but he heard distinctive movement in the stairwell, the rush of leathery wings, the clack of claws. That would be the dakti swarm heading toward them. “They’re above us,” he said to Celadon.
She sprang to the doors. “We’ll try to go down and out. Remember the cargo shafts have openings to the outside.” She looked at the warriors. “Whoever makes it out, fly to the island to warn Malachite. Rime, hold onto the groundling.”
The warriors growled in grim assent. Delin wrapped his hands firmly around Rime’s collar flanges. “Don’t worry about me. Just go.”
Celadon jerked at the door handle, found it locked, and ripped the door off the wall.
She plunged out into the hall beyond, Moon and the warriors following. They slammed through a dozen Aventeran guards who must have been placed there to block their escape, then dove down a short stairway.
They bounded through a confusing maze of corridors, mostly unoccupied. They passed several startled groundlings, who were insane to be out in the halls instead of hiding inside locked rooms. But there had been activity out on the bladder-boat dock, on the balconies, and other bladder-boats in the air. I wonder how much of the city knows about the Fell trap, Moon thought, bouncing off a wall as he and Celadon careened around a corner. If Ennia and Havram and the other leaders hadn’t warned anyone, if the inhabitants of the city were unprepared… The Aventerans were going to pay for this, but it wouldn’t be the Raksura who exacted the price.
The Fell stench was in the air now, too much of it to tell a direction. Ahead the corridor opened into a large chamber, a market or gathering area like the one they had seen on their last visit here. Past Celadon, Moon glimpsed daylight coming through a line of pillars. But an instant later a dark shape blocked it and he saw scaled wings rise up. We’re dead, it’s a kethel, he thought, just as Celadon halted and snapped her wings out to stop the warriors, snarling, “Back the other way!”
Moon turned and found himself temporarily in the lead as the warriors followed him back down the corridor. He took the other turn, a hall that ran parallel to the cliff face. It was narrow enough that the kethel couldn’t follow them without shifting to groundling, but it wasn’t likely to take them to an opening to the outside. Celadon leapt over the heads of the warriors and landed next to him to take the lead again. She glanced at him, but didn’t speak. There wasn’t anything to say.
The hall turned again, toward the cliff face, but it ended in what at first looked like an empty room. Then Moon saw the heavy chains hanging down the walls and his heart leapt. “Cargo lift!”
He looked up to see a square of daylight a few hundred paces up the shaft. Celadon said, “Hurry, climb!”
They started up the chains, Moon, Celadon, and a warrior on one side, the other three warriors and Delin on the other. Delin held on to Rime unsupported, so Rime could use both hands to climb. Delin’s face was set in a grimace of determination, and Moon was terrified he would fall. Even if it was a quick end compared to what the Fell would do to him.
Celadon whispered, “The dakti haven’t found us yet. They should be right behind us. They were trying to drive us into that kethel and they would have, if it hadn’t shifted too soon.”
She was right. “Maybe they got turned around in a corridor,” Moon said, but he knew it was unlikely. “Or they’re waiting for something, another kethel to trap us—”
The wall chains shook and something heavy groaned ominously. Above them the blocky shape of a cargo platform jolted into motion, blotting out the square of daylight as it creaked down the shaft. Celadon looked down and hissed. “That’s what they were waiting for!”
Moon looked and saw a black cloud of leathery wings, tails, claws, and teeth; the dakti swarmed up the shaft toward them like a dark wave.
There was no time to discuss it, no time to plan. Celadon swung over to one of the shaking wall chains that helped balance the moving platform. She ripped it out of the ring that held it to the wall and flung herself backward across the shaft. As the startled warrior flattened himself to the wall, Moon swung around and ripped out another supporting ring. The platform above jerked and flipped sideways amid a chorus of metallic snaps and ringing as the chains on the other wall took the full weight and broke.
Moon caught a passing slap from a chain that slammed him face-first into the wall. Dazed, he felt his claws lose their grip, but the warrior grabbed his arm and pulled him in as the wooden platform plunged past them.
The square window was right above them now, and the warrior dragged Moon up onto the sill. Moon crouched, blinked hard to clear his bleary vision, and looked down the shaft in time to see several dakti scrambling up the wall toward them. He slashed the first one across the face and throat; it tumbled backward but more followed. The warrior shouted at him to jump. Moon turned, and he and the warrior leapt out the window into a strong gust of wind.
Moon caught a glimpse of the flying boat, but for a few heartbeats he was too occupied with fighting to stay aloft to realize what he was looking at. Then details came into focus and he went cold with horror.
A major kethel clung to the carved cliff face above the flying boat’s anchorage, its claws hooked into the balconies and around the elegant pillars of the city’s façade. The giant creature’s form was similar to the dakti, armored-plated in the same way, but it had an array of horns crowning its huge head. It couldn’t be the one they had glimpsed inside the city; it was the biggest kethel Moon had ever had the misfortune to see, more than three times Stone’s size. It loomed over the flying boat, which was still wrapped in the folds of netting. He couldn’t see any movement on the deck.
“The others didn’t follow us!” the warrior called out above him. “Consort, you go on, I’ll wait—” The words dissolved in a sharp cry and the warrior folded and dropped like a rock. Something had struck him; the scent of blood came to Moon as he twisted sideways and grabbed the falling man’s outstretched arm.
The warrior’s dead weight jerked Moon down and he flapped hard to stay aloft, but the wind tossed him toward the cliff. He looked down, saw the warrior had shifted to groundling from shock and pain; blood stained his shirt on the right side of his chest. Projectile weapon, Moon thought with a snarl. He looked around and spotted a bladder-boat suspended in the air some distance away and headed rapidly toward them.
Moon pulled the warrior up into his arms, let the wind shove him sideways, and angled for a steep dive away from the city.
He heard the faint pop from the direction of the bladder-boat, twisted, and dropped to avoid another projectile. But a soft weight struck him and knocked him toward the cliff face.
Moon slammed into the rock, stunned, and felt his wings twist with the weight of whatever had hit him. Keeping hold of the warrior with one arm, he grabbed for purchase on the rock with the other. He caught a hold in the stone with his foot-claws and realized the thing that had hit them was a net made of heavy cord, a smaller version of the one that had trapped the flying boat. He ripped at it with his free hand but his claws slid off the metallic strands, and the entangling folds dragged painfully at his wings. He wrapped his free arm around an ornamental post projecting from a ledge and shifted to groundling just as he felt the bones in his wings bend.
He gasped as the pressure on his wings disappeared and his groundling body formed. He waited for the rush of pain from broken bones but it didn’t come. The net�
�s weight, his heavier body, and the warrior combined to strain his arm and shoulder, until it felt as if the joint was about to rip apart. But that was all. Just in time, he thought in relief. Broken wing bones would have translated to broken bones in his back, and the terror of that ran through his veins like icy water.
The bladder-boat had been too far away for a groundling to throw the net, so it must have somehow shot it at them like a projectile. That explains where the net that hit the boat came from, he thought.
The warrior regained consciousness enough to wrap his good arm around Moon’s neck. The scent of his blood was thick in Moon’s throat. He whispered, “Consort, what…”
“Just hold on.” Moon twisted as far as he could, ignoring the grinding pain in his shoulder. Ropes stretched up from the net towards the bladder-boat, still above them and coming down at an angle, now no more than a hundred paces away. They needed to get untangled from this net so Moon could shift and get them out of here. “What’s your name?”
“Dare,” the warrior gasped.
“Dare, can you kick the net away from—” Groundlings appeared at the bladder-boat’s railing and one lifted a bulky weapon with a long tube. And we need to get away now, Moon thought. He told Dare, “Don’t let go.”
The warrior tightened his grip. Moon lifted his legs despite the tangling net, braced his feet on the wall, and shoved off.
They fell until the ropes attached to the net caught and jerked them to a halt. Moon tore and dragged at the clinging folds and Dare kicked out. Moon felt the net loosen as it started to untangle, about to spill them out.
Then something dark closed around them.
Moon saw the huge claws arching over him and realized the major kethel had snatched them up in its hand. Dare strangled back a scream but in the next instant the creature dropped them.