Kelanim turned back to the Caisah and felt another portion of her insides crack. Her love was kneeling over the grave, and weeping—truly weeping. Emotion of any kind but rage was something so seldom seen that she had to grit her teeth to hold back an exclamation.
“He sees what he has done,” the shade of Putorae whispered into Kelanim’s ear. “After all these centuries he remembers what he has done.”
The mistress would have run then and there to his side, but the suggestion of an icy grip on her upper arm stopped her. “They are coming now, child. To finish what you have begun. This is not the Caisah that they wanted from you. Help him, and quickly!”
Kelanim was released and she dashed to the side of her love. Wrapping her arms around him, she rocked him back and forth while her eyes darted from shadow to shadow, feeling menace in each of them. The shade of the seer was no longer there, disappeared back to whatever place she occupied, or perhaps unravelled completely.
“They” was what she had said, and Kelanim knew at least two of the forms that would come. They had tried to trick her into destroying the person she loved, and she could feel her own rage at that bubbling like a sickness in her belly.
Her ears were straining as hard as her eyes, and she suddenly discerned a rustle of pine needles and leaves deep within the forest. Some large animal was moving back there, and her imagination conjured what it could be.
“She forgives you,” Kelanim said to the Caisah, rubbing his back, and trying her best to pass along some of the warmth of her body to his. “You weren’t meant for this. Putorae understands that. She wants you to live.”
The seer hadn’t actually said that, but why else would see have bothered to warn the mistress of the onrushing danger?
The Caisah looked up at her, his eyes bleak, and his whole body rigid. “I didn’t know what would happen. I was just so angry with her, and then it bubbled up. The earth listened to my rage, and it took her. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t stop it. I tried.”
All those powers the Kindred had given him, and he hadn’t known how to control any of them. Kelanim’s heart went out to him, imagining herself easily lost in all that magic. Underneath it all he was just a man.
At this moment she needed him to be more than that, because even though she didn’t look over her shoulder, she could hear more movement. It was no longer stealthy at all. She had no weapons, and even if she did, Court life had not prepared her for battle. All Kelanim had was the man at her side, the one she had unhinged.
So she grabbed hold of his hands and pulled his attention to her. “You have to fight on, love. Your sons and this world need you.” She had no idea if this were true, but she had to find some way to reach him. “I need you, too . . .”
His young face, with those old, weary eyes shifted from upset to something that might have been determination. Together they rose from the dirt and looked around at the forest.
The sounds were now emerging into forms around them. With the glow of the Steps the only light, the creatures of myth and legend stepped nearer to the Caisah. The centaur was at their lead, his dark, shaggy head bent, but his gleaming eyes remained fixed on them both.
They darted once to the uncovered bones. “Another of your victims, abomination. My masters will be glad to know that you have finally begun to remember all that you have done. At the end, it all comes back.”
The nagi emerged with a rustle of dry skin on leaves. Its many heads, with many flickering tongues, darted forward and back as if eager to taste flesh.
Kelanim felt her skin trying to crawl off her body. “How did they follow us?” she whispered under her breath, but the centaur heard her.
“We are Kindred. Beneath it all, we remain.” His front hoof stamped the ground with an impact that made the mistress jump. “All of Conhaero is open to us. We fold it around us, much as your tyrant here does.”
“I struck her down once,” the Caisah spoke, ignoring the centaur’s jibes. “When we met in the Salt, she came at me, and I turned her aside. I would think she hasn’t forgotten that.”
“Indeed not,” the nagi hissed, “but this time she is not alone. The Phage have grown, and become more powerful with time. The arrival of the White Void brings strength to them that would take it.”
More movement sounded around them; the Named were encircling them.
“It seems fitting that this is the place you will die,” the centaur continued with a grim smile. “The first place you touched our sacred soil will be the last place, too. You shall lie with the fool Putorae once again—but this time in the earth.”
The forest was suddenly full of forms rushing at them; faceless crones with bony arms, women with the faces of foxes, and stout green men with only one eye. Kelanim only had time to catch glimpses of them before the Caisah whipped her behind him.
It was a gesture to make her weep. She had done this, brought them here in her own way, and yet here he was protecting her. As the Named began to circle, she blurted out the truth.
“I did this to you! I did!” She would not resort to tears. She would stand up and own up to her part in this.
For all his strange behavior, the Caisah heard her. He turned and his eyes darted to her face, searching it for answers.
“Your lover gave you up so easily,” the centaur stood a little away from them, in the shadows of the trees, and pronounced the death of Kelanim’s hopes. “She wanted you to be hers, even if it meant giving up your immortality.”
The mistress understood betrayal—she had seen it many times in the harem—and she also understood the twisting of the knife. The Named had meant to do this all along. The only way to draw out the poison was to confront it.
“I love you,” was her only reply. “I am not sorry for that, but I am for what I did.”
He looked at her steadily, not as the implacable Caisah, but with a touch of vulnerability in his gaze. “Is this how you want me?” he asked softly. “You want me mortal?”
Kelanim nodded, keeping herself erect and ready for whatever punishment might come.
The Caisah looked around at the circle of Named, with long teeth and knives ready for him. “Well then,” he said simply. “Then my name is Vitus, but my men in the Void called me the Eagle King.”
That was enough; the Named charged at him, snarling and hungry for his blood. Vitus spread his arms wide, and the earth obeyed him.
It rolled up around them. A small cry of alarm escaped Kelanim as the earth took them, and she thought of the body of the Last Seer. Was that to be her fate, too?
However, he was with her, whispering in her ear, something that sent shivers up her spine. “Now is the time, Eagle King.”
When Kelanim looked into his eyes, they were clear and seeing her for perhaps the first time.
The howls of the Named seemed like nothing at all when compared to that. It was just as the legends had said: the Caisah commanded the very earth. This was why the Named, and whoever their masters were, had wanted him removed.
He crushed them, taking them down into the depths of the world. Blood and bone, even of the Named Kindred, could not resist that.
When the earth had finished with them, it rolled back, leaving them in a circle of red and mangled flesh. Kelanim smiled up at him. She had been a fool to want him mortal. He was magnificent like this. He shone.
“It is time to go to the Belly,” he said. “The Eagle King will be free, and then you will truly know him.”
Finn and Talyn leapt from the bed. They shoved their clothes on as best they could in the darkness.
He grabbed Talyn’s hand, since she had no idea of the layout of the village, and pulled her along with him. His first thought was of what was happening to Ysel. Could Fida protect him properly without the Gifts? Concern for his brother’s life made his legs pump harder.
“Wahirangi!” he bellowed, as behind him he heard Talyn draw her sword with her free hand. Talespinners were racing past them, many in states of undress and wide-eyed. Still, they ha
d spoken enough tales about surprise attacks, so they didn’t start screaming. They were making for the entrance, while Finn and Talyn were working their way in the opposite direction. It was lucky he knew the village so well or the twists and turns would have stymied him. Hours upon hours traversing the swaying bridges as a child now held him in good stead; he kept his feet and quickly found the nest where his brother had gone to sleep for the night.
Fida was standing on the swaying netting, her sword drawn, and seemed eager for some kind of target. Ysel was calm and ready, too.
“The Phage have found us,” he said simply looking up at his brother.
“How?” Talyn demanded. “They had no idea where Finn was . . . even I didn’t until . . .” Her face turned pale. “Could . . . could they have some way of tracking me here?”
It appeared from her expression that Fida wanted to strike Talyn down right there and then. Ysel merely looked her up and down, his head tilted to one side. “Perhaps . . .”
That was when the leader of the Swoop appeared, diving down in eagle form and taking her human shape before them. She had her armor on and was wide-eyed.
“Talyn!” She grabbed hold of the Vaerli’s arm. “You need to get out of here now!”
Azrul was a brave soul, since at any time she could have used her wings and escaped. Instead, she tugged her friend after her. Finn, and Fida with Ysel kept protectively behind her, followed the two women as they ran through the perilously shaking rope bridges toward the one entrance. It had seemed like a fine idea at first—one entrance in and out—but now the attack was from above and they were out of options.
“Fire!” Fida cried out a warning, as scarlet flames engulfed the structure around them. It wrapped around them so suddenly that there was no chance to turn about and escape it. Finn caught a glimpse of the once-Vaerli turning and throwing Ysel away from her, back to the rocky outcrop they had just passed. Then fire swallowed her. She didn’t even scream as flames took her clothes and then her flesh in the blink of an eye.
There was no time to mourn her loss or celebrate her bravery, because Finn, Talyn, and Azrul were falling. The talespinners’ bridges were not made to withstand fiery attacks, and theirs had given way to flame. The sound of the Whitefoam eagle’s cry filled Finn’s ears, but the roar of the ocean below was louder.
The impact of dragon talons around him nearly made the talespinner bite his own tongue off. His neck felt as though it had almost snapped, but he wrapped his hands around Wahirangi’s claws that held him so delicately, and looked to his right. Sometimes it was a fine thing to have friends in the air.
Talyn looked as shocked as he felt about this current change in circumstance. She glanced up at the golden head of the dragon gleaming in the moonlight, and her lips curled in the faintest smile.
From this vantage point Finn could make out the attackers and the defenders. It was not the dragon that he and Wahirangi had tussled with on their way to the island, but it was something nearly as terrifying.
A swarm of winged creatures: griffins, baykok with their skeletal frames and red eyes, phoenix, and many more that Finn could only catch glimpses of. It had to be the flaming tails of the birds that had set the village alight. Meanwhile, the predatory birds of the Swoop were harassing and attacking the Named as best they could, but there was little they could do against such powerful beings.
Finn smiled wickedly. “Turn around, Wahirangi, and show these Named what flames really are.”
Instead, the dragon just carried them higher, circling away from the devastation without comment. Talyn closed her eyes as if she knew something he did not. Through the rush of wind, even if she yelled, Finn doubted he would be able to make it out.
Perhaps Wahirangi had not heard him. “I said . . .”
“I must protect you,” the dragon spoke, even as he did not meet Finn’s eye. “And I will not kill my kind. They may be Named, but those are Kindred. They have no choice what they do; the Phage have made them slaves. I will not slay them.”
Finn beat on the dragon’s talons, even though he knew it would do no good. “You seemed ready to kill that dragon we tussled with before!”
“I was not trying to kill my kin, I was trying to kill the abomination on her back,” Wahirangi replied, even as his head turned to follow the actions of the Named below.
Apparently, whatever the Phage had done to the Kindred was different than what Finn had done, but he had to try. “I command you to go back there and defend the village.”
Now a massive opal-colored eye turned on him. “You Named me, and now you would command me?”
Opposite him, Talyn was shaking her head desperately from side to side.
Finn knew better than not to take the hint. He looked up at the dragon, and changed his tack. “You would not let innocent people die simply because I went among them. Dragonfear is powerful, is it not?”
Wahirangi did not answer, but he tucked his two passengers in tight against his warm belly, and folded his wings about him.
The lesser-winged creatures didn’t have a chance. The dragon dived among them, turning this way and that. Even his fellow Named fled before him. The flock of birds that were the Swoop also scattered.
Wahirangi drove them all before him, and even sent a blast of dragonflame slicing harmlessly through the air. Those Named by the Phage obviously did not know that he had such scruples.
When the great beast was done quartering the sky, roaring, flaming, and making a great show, the Named had fled to whatever dark place they had come from. Eventually the Swoop ventured back, but only after the dragon had landed by the devastated entrance to the village.
A small scattering of survivors, blackened by soot and terrified, huddled there. For once the talespinners were not telling the story—they were in it. They did not look happy about it.
Wahirangi put Talyn and Finn back on the earth as gently as if he were their mother. Then he took off, only to return with Ysel. The boy looked more like a boy than he ever had before, Finn thought—wide-eyed, pale and terrified. In the meantime, the nykur appeared out of the darkness and nuzzled Talyn’s side. He too was a creature of chaos, but apparently no friend of the Phage; he had blood on his horns and teeth. So there was one creature that did not mind what had happened tonight.
The dragon looked down on them, and though he had no human expressions, the talespinner felt sorrow radiating from him.
“You see,” the dragon intoned, “there is no sanctuary for you now, nor for those you care for. You must go to the Belly; there you will find peace or death.”
Finn took a long, deep breath. His brother’s clothes were singed, but he was not crying. Talyn looked as determined as she had when he first saw her all that time ago—but there was something different; a light in her eyes. He’d never seen that before in her, but he guessed what it might be. She now had a reason to live, and a goal to achieve. That was when Finn realized he would not be alone.
The Swoop—or what was left of them—alighted on the cliff face and transformed back to human form. They were a tough looking collection of women, and the last remnant of scion goodness in the world.
“We will follow where Talyn goes,” Azrul said, her hand wrapping around her sword hilt. “One-eyed Baraca is gone; killed by these same Named.”
If it had not been for the power of the Phage and the White Void that waited, Finn might have felt confident.
“I’m ready,” he said, and hoped his voice did not waver.
“Then I will open the way, and we will go together.” Wahirangi’s head lowered until it was brushing against Finn’s chest. He could feel the heat and comfort of it all the way through him. “You know, son of Putorae, your ability to make yourself small must and can be reversed. You must make yourself so big that the White Void cannot swallow you or your brother. Remember the lessons of your time on Conhaero.”
Those were many, and all of them crowded his brain at once. Finn felt as though he had plunged into icy water and could n
ot catch his breath.
“Then let’s go,” he said, because that was all there was left to say. Talyn silently took a place at his shoulder, with Ysel on the other side. His brother and his lover—two people he would have never thought to have.
The dragon turned and delicately extended his taloned fingers. Like Putorae had shown them, he flicked aside reality as if it were a child’s tricks. The white light of the Void nearly burned Finn’s eyes, but he heard Wahirangi’s comforting voice wrap around him—even if the words themselves were not comforting.
“Stay close, the Belly is not far at all.”
All of the Ahouri flew west out over the sea, with Equo, Varlesh, and Si at their head. They wore the form of the dragonets, and they did not sing any songs as they went. If they had, they would have been songs of war.
Waves lashed at them, as if in an attempt to bring the flock down. Equo narrowed his eyes and flew on all the harder. The strength of his brothers was at his back and his love was ahead of him. He would go anywhere she needed him to be.
He felt dreadful that he had for a moment doubted her. It was imperative that he apologize for that, and there was something else he had to do.
In those awkward days when they had first known each other, when he had been following her around like a young pup, he had told her often that he loved her. Back then, she had brushed him off with good graces. Now he wished he had said something far more recently. They were older and perhaps a little wiser, and had known the end was coming. Why had he not said anything?
The fractured remains of his people did not seem like much to take into the fight, but they had come when he asked. They had returned from their mission to inform the Vaerli, but they had not shared what the response had been. Alone then, and creatures of wing, they flew on.
The Belly was an angry plain of an island in the middle of the slate-gray sea. Billowing, sulfurous clouds clenched above it, obscuring the top of the one hill that rose out of the middle. Occasionally, red flame lit up the inside of the clouds as the mountain proved it was more a volcano. This was the place the Vaerli would not come, and the sole domain of Kindred. Yet, as the singing Ahouri flock flew closer, Equo saw that this was not exactly true any longer.
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