“In the words of—” began Oskar.
Then the ground fell away.
The nose of the boggan hidden in the snow beneath their feet dropped into a dark hole. Oskar toppled over, taking the Igibys with him, and they lay in a tangle of arms and legs on the boggan behind Errol as it zoomed down a slick tunnel toward the sea.
61
The Battle of Kimera
Long before Artham saw the battle, he heard it. The clash of steel and the thunder of the river ice carried across the prairie to his ears and made him beat his new wings even harder. Tink never moved. He slept as still and peaceful as a baby. Whenever Artham looked down at the boy in his arms, his heart nearly broke with love and pity. He knew well the journey that lay before his nephew but not how to spare him from it.
In the distance Artham detected a slight rise, the nearest thing to a hill he had seen during his flight. All around the hill the battle raged. Artham angled his wings and swooped high into the cold sky so he could survey the situation.
Like a curl of black ribbon on a white floor, an ice-fraught river curved around the rise of the hill, then disappeared again beneath the snow. It divided most of the Grey Fangs from the battle, and those left on the inside of the loop were locked in combat with the Kimerans. He saw bits of dust and fur whirling in the air where Grey Fangs had fallen, and he saw many fallen Kimerans too. The river was choked with hundreds of wolves clawing at ice floes and struggling to swim under the weight of their armor. Mounted chorkneys drove wedges into the ranks of Fangs, and wherever the line was breached, Kimerans appeared with sword and spear to drive the enemy back to the deadly waters. The Grey Fangs on the far side of the river had no way to cross, but their archers sent barrages of arrows into the battle.
Artham admired the Kimerans’ strategy. The warriors would never have defeated the whole of the Fang army, but the river had divided the force in half. It was clear that the Kimerans would win the day.
But where were Janner and Leeli?
Artham held still in the gale and scanned the ground for Podo. To find the old man, he had only to look for a pile of slain Fangs. He saw a man in a black cape who seemed to dance on the heads of the wolves, swishing his blade so fast that he looked more like a stinging wasp than a warrior. Artham wondered who he was and wished he could meet such a fighter.
From Pembrick’s Creaturepedia
But there was no sign of his family.
From his great height, he could see on the eastern edge of the horizon the Dark Sea of Darkness. He knew from his many wanderings that the Kimerans were a tunneling people and remembered they had courses that led to the sea.
Was that movement? He narrowed his new eyes and scanned the waters. Then he saw something terrible. Something moving faster than any ship.
In an instant Artham knew. He knew where his family was. He knew where Podo was, and his fury burst forth in a piercing screech. Tink stirred in his arms and whined.
It had been many years since Artham had thought about Podo Helmer’s past. Long ago he had confronted Podo about his pirate days, and the old man had spurned him ever since for fear that he would reveal old secrets. Now Podo’s past was about to catch up to him, quite literally, and Artham feared it would put an end to the dream of Anniera forever.
“Hold on, lad,” Artham said, pulling Tink’s furry body close.
With one last look at the battle below, he mustered his strength and soared toward the Dark Sea of Darkness, straight for the place where the waters roiled.
The boggan hissed down the ice tunnel at a sharp angle. The trapdoor clamped shut, and the bright opening above disappeared. They picked up so much speed so fast that Janner felt like he might choke on his stomach. No one spoke. Seconds ago they had been standing in the sun and snow amidst the noisy battle, and now the world was dark and quiet but for the hiss of the boggan on the ice.
Janner thought of the picture of his father as a boy, smiling at the prow of a sailboat, and a shiver of excitement ran up his spine. At last he would know the feel of a ship under his feet. He would taste the salt spray he had only read about. At the end of this tunnel, one of his wildest dreams would come true.
Then he remembered Peet and Tink. Where were they? What would they do when they arrived in Kimera to find a raging battle and their loved ones gone? But when he thought of the calm, brave look on Peet’s face and the way he held Tink safe in his arms, Janner relaxed. Tink was probably safer now than the rest of them.
The angle of the slope lessened. Errol lit a lantern and tucked it under the nose of the boggan. Janner counted faces to be sure everyone was still there. The sides of the craft curved upward enough to match the shape of the tunnel, but there were no rails. What would they do if someone fell off? Oskar, for example, who because of his belly still flailed about, unable to sit up in the close quarters.
Janner’s question was answered when Podo recovered from his shock and cried, “STOP!”
Errol looked at him and shrugged, then pulled a rope near his right leg, and a grinding sound came from the rear of the boggan. Ice sprayed in their wake, and the sled slowly came to a stop. Before and behind them was darkness. They sat in a bubble of yellow lamplight that reflected off the smooth surface of the tunnel.
“We’re stopped, sir. What is it?” Errol asked.
“What is it?” Podo snapped. “Didn’t ye hear me? We can’t go to the sea. We can’t, understand?”
“Grandpa, what’s wrong?” Leeli said.
The old man’s eyes were dark and troubled. The last time Janner had seen him look that way was that night in the tent when Podo had woken from a nightmare. “There’s things I done a long time ago,” he had said. “Things that ain’t been paid for.”
“Leeli, I can’t bring meself to tell you,” their grandfather said after a pause. “Just know that I can’t go to the sea.”
“That’s a problem, sir,” said Errol.
“What do ye mean?” Podo asked.
“There’s no turning back. You can’t climb out. We’re more than a mile from the surface by now, and it’s much too steep. If you tried to crawl out, sooner or later you’d slip. Everyone in this tunnel will reach the bottom, one way or another.”
“Then when we get to the port, let me out, and fast,” he said. “There are ways back to Kimera. We have a chance if I’m fast enough.”
“That’s a problem, too,” said Errol.
“What problem?” Podo growled. “I’ve been to the Kimeran port aplenty.”
“This tunnel doesn’t go to the port. It’s an escape route—it empties right onto the deck of a ship in a hidden ice cove. It’s what the old lords of Kimera used for escape whenever the city was under siege. Gammon figured that since you’re an old sailor, you’d be happy with the situation. I’m afraid, sir,” Errol said with a gulp, “that you don’t have much choice in the matter. It’s to the sea we go whether you want to or not. In fact,” he added, “by now we’re over the sea anyway.”
Podo looked down instinctively, then back at Errol with wide eyes. “What have you done?” he screamed. He lunged forward and grabbed Errol by the beard.
Nia slapped Podo’s hand. “Papa, that’s enough! This man’s trying to help us.”
Podo let go of Errol and rounded on Nia. “I’m tryin’ to help ye too! Can’t you see that? I can’t go back. Ever again. That’s me punishment, lass! If ever they get a whiff of me near that water, it’s the end, for me and for every poor creature in sight.”
“What are you talking about?” Nia asked.
“Podo,” said Oskar. “If you have something to say, now’s the time.”
Podo looked from Janner to Leeli to Nia, working his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked at Nia like a scared puppy and shook his head.
“I can’t,” he said, “I can’t go to the sea.”
Without turning her hard eyes from her father, Nia said, “Errol, carry on. It’s to the ship we go.”
Errol nodded and released the brake.
Podo leapt from the boggan as they slid away.
“Grandpa, no!” Leeli cried.
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” said Errol. “Watch.”
He pulled the brake again, and the boggan stopped. Seconds later, from the darkness behind them, Podo slid into the lamplight, pawing at the ice in vain. He bumped into the rear of the boggan and lay staring at the ceiling. Leeli crawled over Oskar, took Podo by the hand, and drew him back onto the craft.
“Carry on,” Nia said to Errol, and the boggan descended.
No one spoke a word.
Podo trembled, and Janner knew it wasn’t because of the cold.
62
Ancient Anger
A faint glow appeared in the distance.
“Almost there,” said Errol, and he snuffed the lantern.
Janner’s eyes adjusted as the light grew stronger. The others sat up—all but Podo—and peered over Errol’s shoulder. Moments later they saw a pale blue circle that grew as they sped nearer.
“Hold on,” Errol said.
The boggan burst from the tunnel, flew through the air for a heart-lurching moment, and slammed into a pile of soft snow. Janner could see nothing but white. Cold, wet snow invaded every opening in his clothes, and he didn’t know which way was up.
“Oh, sakes alive! Sakes alive!” said Oskar somewhere nearby.
Then strong hands pulled Janner sputtering from the snowbank. Several more of the big, bearded Kimerans helped Nia and Leeli to their feet. Podo crawled from the pile and dashed to the upper deck of the ship without a word.
“Welcome, Errol,” said one of the crew. “Is everything going according to plan?”
“So far,” said Errol as he climbed from the snow. “Gammon wants us out to sea as soon as possible in case things go badly. Clear the snow bed from the deck! Loose the moorings!”
The crew sprang into action.
Janner was too thrilled to wonder what was wrong with his grandfather. He was on a ship! He heard the muted splash of water, then the wonderful creak of timbers. On either side of the ship rose tall, smooth walls of ice. If the boat hadn’t been there, the boggan would’ve splashed into the water. There was no shore, not even a stray ice floe. Beyond the prow, the corridor opened to the wild sea. Waves boomed against the ice cliffs and shot foam high into the air.
The sails unfurled, the crew hauled on fat ropes, oars churned, and the ship creaked forward toward open sea. Janner craned his neck and squinted upward at the fine sight of the mast and the mainsail unfolding in a spray of sunlight.
Then he saw something that caused his face to break into a wide smile. Far above the mast, a winged creature approached. Two human legs dangled behind the wings, and though it seemed impossible, Janner knew it was his uncle.
Peet’s familiar screech cut through the sky, and Janner whooped with joy.
“Look!” he cried as the ship inched forward and the prow met the first waves of the sea. “It’s Uncle Peet! And Tink! They made it!”
Janner waved at them and was thrilled to see Peet wave back. But as his uncle neared the mast of the ship, Janner realized he wasn’t waving in greeting but in warning.
A mighty thunder shook the air, and cold water rained down on the ship. Nia screamed. Even some of the brave Kimeran warriors screamed.
Above it all rang Podo’s strong voice.
“LORDS OF THE SEA! I’M PODO HELMER! SCALE RAKER, THEY CALL ME! YE KNOW MY NAME, AND YOU’VE JUSTLY CURSED IT THESE MANY YEARS! I BEG YOU! LET YOUR WRATH FALL ON ME AND ME ALONE!”
Janner tore his eyes from the sky and spun around.
Sea dragons erupted from the waves and towered over the ship. Their eyes glowed red as embers, and their mighty flanks trembled. The beasts dwarfed the ship; their fins churned beneath the water and rocked the boat like it was a toy.
Podo stood at the prow with his arms raised. The nearest dragon—the old one Janner had seen in his first vision, the one who had spoken in his mind—thrust its head forward, bared a thousand silvery teeth at Podo, and loosed a roar that tore the old man’s coat from his shoulders and caused the ship to list to port. Podo stood firm, wet with sea spray and sweat.
Something thudded into the rear of the ship, and Janner turned, expecting to see another sea dragon. But it was no dragon. A Grey Fang climbed to its feet where it had slid across the rear deck and slammed against the stern rail. It drew its sword and growled as two more Grey Fangs shot from the hole in the ice wall and crashed to the deck of the ship. However the Kimerans fared in the battle far above, the Fangs had discovered the escape tunnel. Three more Grey Fangs thudded onto the rear deck in a tangle of fur and weapons and found their feet.
“Faster!” roared Errol. “Get the ship clear of the tunnel!”
By the time the ship’s nose was into open sea—and into the throng of dragons—and the stern was clear of the tunnel mouth, fifteen Grey Fangs prowled the deck with teeth bared and swords slashing. Errol and the seven members of the crew not busy hauling ropes and oars engaged the Fangs with shouts and much bravery. Behind the ship, more Grey Fangs splashed into the water, and though they were bitter enemies, Janner felt pity for them as they thrashed in the water and clawed futilely at the smooth walls of the cove.
Then the dragon’s voice filled Janner’s mind. It said the same words it had spoken that day at the cliffs, but now he knew whom it meant.
He is near you, young ones. Beware. He destroys what he touches and seeks the young ones to use them for his own ends. We have been watching, waiting for him. He sailed across the sea, and he is near you, child. We can smell him.
It wasn’t Gnag. It wasn’t Gammon.
The dragon’s warning had been about Podo Helmer all along.
It was young dragons who were in danger, not he and his siblings. Janner was stunned. He knew Podo had been a pirate, and before that a Strander, but he had never stopped to consider the awful things his grandfather might have done—awful things that weren’t just a part of some story but had actually happened.
But to slay the young of these magnificent creatures? Nia was right. Wicked people would do anything for money. He didn’t want to think of Podo that way, but there was no escaping the brutal fact that his grandfather had done this terrible thing.
The dragon roared.
The crew battled the Fangs, but they were losing. Several of Errol’s men already lay motionless on the deck of the ship. The Grey Fangs, unlike their scaly brothers, fought in silence, with precision and great skill. The rest of the crew scattered to protect the ship from the looming ice walls; others fetched bows and trained them on the sea dragons, though it was obvious arrows would be of no use.
Oskar lost his footing and sprawled on the deck, slipping to and fro like a dead fish. Nia’s mouth hung open in a silent scream. Leeli, however, tucked her crutch under her arm, hopped up the stairs, and raced across the upper deck straight toward the dragon.
Janner snatched a sword from the hand of one of the fallen Kimerans and wondered whether he should hide, leap into the battle with the Grey Fangs, or follow Leeli to the forecastle where Podo faced the dragons.
The old dragon writhed in angry triumph, and its frenzy spread to the many dragons behind it. They roared and churned the waters until glaciers split and avalanches tumbled down from the sides of the Stony Mountains.
Podo stood like a statue at the prow, awaiting his death.
Dark wings suddenly blocked Janner’s vision, and he found himself looking into Artham’s eyes.
“Janner,” he said.
His voice was strong and sure, and it cut through the clamor. His face was the same, though now colored with the same reddish tint as his forearms, and instead of wild, white hair, fine feathers shaded with subtle color and design covered his head and shoulders. He was beautiful.
“Uncle Artham—how did you—what happened?”
“I’m not sure I can explain it myself,” Artham said. “Janner, there’s no time. Take your brother.”
In Artham’s arms lay a Grey Fang, small and motionless. It wore no clothes, but its body was covered in long gray and white fur. Janner couldn’t hide the disgust on his face. This wasn’t Tink. This was a terrible mistake.
Then the Fang stirred and turned its head.
Janner’s blood ran cold. Neither the fur, the pointed ears, the black nose, nor the sharp teeth could hide the fact that this was indeed Tink. Janner didn’t want to touch him. He didn’t want to believe this was his little brother.
“Drop your sword and take him,” Artham said. “He needs you now more than ever, Throne Warden. The dragons will kill us all if we don’t do something.”
Janner nodded and took his brother into his arms. “What will you do?” he asked.
“I’ll start by dealing with these wolves.”
Artham snatched up the sword Janner had dropped, then spread his wings and leapt into the air. He dropped into the center of the fight and killed three Grey Fangs before his feet touched the deck. In seconds, the Kimerans had the advantage and backed the six remaining Grey Fangs into a corner.
Destroy them, said the dragon’s voice in Janner’s head. It was talking to the other sea dragons. Destroy them all.
“I can see that you’re angry! Spare the others! It was me who took yer children!” Podo bellowed. He knelt in the prow and clenched his hands, and his big, broken voice rose above the chaos. “Please!”
The sea dragons would crush the ship and swallow every one of them. All because of Podo. All because of the wicked things he had done. It was no more use trying to stop the dragons than trying to stop a rack of dark clouds blowing in. Nothing in all of Aerwiar could stay such bitter vengeance.
Faster than Janner would have believed possible, the old dragon struck. Like a whip, the beast’s head reared back and shot forward, straight at Podo and—
“Leeli!” Nia shrieked.
The little girl reached her grandfather and stood between him and the dragon.
North! Or Be Eaten Page 36