Mena had just straightened to check their position when, without warning, Elya corkscrewed in the air. It was so fast that Mena’s head snapped to the side. “Elya!” she called from upside down, her hands grasping for purchase as she slipped partway out of the harness. “Elya, what-”
The thing hit them with incredible force. It impacted from above, driving Elya downward. She and Elya twirled as they plummeted, the air a roar around them. Each cloud hit them with physical force, as if they were smashing again and again through a body of water. Mena thought, I knew it. The clouds are firm. They have substance. But it was the briefest of thoughts, gone in an instant.
Something fell with them, some sort of beast that Mena only caught glimpses of. It bellowed and grunted. Elya hissed in response. The two of them struggled, clasped together and fighting. It was larger than Elya, hairless and thickly muscled, with enormous wings. It had a flat face that looked vaguely like an ape’s and a mouth of incisors that once came close enough to snap at the princess. It was all bulk and weight compared to Elya’s sinewy length. It wore a chain about its neck, thick and decorative, with a large amulet dangling from it. Elya kicked the beast away. It came back a moment later, lashing with a closed fist that smashed the side of Elya’s head. All three of them somersaulted wildly.
Mena caught a glimpse of the invading army below them, so near. Then she lost all sense of direction, dizzied by the spinning, confused by the flapping of wings and the roars of the attacking creature. She knew the ground rushed up to them. She tried to connect with Elya, but her fight was too frantic. All Mena could do was hang on. Then the monster released them. It broke free at the last moment, using the force of their tumbling to send Mena and Elya hurtling for the icy ground.
Elya flared her wings enough to slow them a little, but still they landed hard, just missing the rear of one rolling structure and crashing down on the trodden tundra. The impact snapped one of the buckles on Elya’s harness. Mena twisted off to one side, one leg loose in the straps and the other pinched painfully by them. The flying monster roared in just behind them, touching the ground for a second and then leaping up. It thrashed its massive arms in threat; gnashed the air with its teeth; grinned at them, bug-eyed and crazed.
Mena tried to keep an eye on it as she scrabbled to get her seat back, but she was so tangled and Elya was moving and hissing so fiercely that she could not keep track of the creature. Beyond it, another of the rolling structures moved toward them, coming on like a fortress on wheels. Mena clamped down as best she could, half in her harness, a clump of Elya’s skin and feathers gripped savagely in one hand. Fly! she thought.
Just then another beast announced itself. It slashed at Elya before crashing to the ground. It danced away a few steps, then skirted them, drawing up opposite the other of its kind. It came back toward them snarling, crouched on its hind legs. Like the first, it was naked except for a thick chain and medallion on its neck, snug against the muscled flesh.
Fly! Mena commanded.
Another skimmed Elya’s head as it landed. And another. Each time Elya’s muscles tensed to leap, a beast dropped from above. Others now beat the air above them. In among the bestial cries came a human voice. It spoke guttural words that Mena could not understand. Then she picked him out. An Auldek rode strapped to the back of one of the hovering monsters. He was directing the others. Perhaps his commands were the only thing stopping the beasts from ripping into them. His mount landed among the others, shouldering its way savagely to clear a space for itself. A moment later the rider sprang to the ground. He shouted something and gestured. As he walked toward Mena and Elya, the monsters rose, bellowed and stomped, and then leaped one after another into the air.
As the creatures lifted, the view they had hidden snapped into place. Mena saw soldiers coming in from all directions. The war column slowed fitfully to a halt. Armed, fur-covered shapes poured out of hastily thrown-open hatches, steam billowing as they emerged. Still others flowed between the structures. Mena half thought the fly command, but the winged monsters circled above. She stroked Elya’s neck and soothed her. The mount did not settle. Her crest feathers made a jagged crown, her serpentine neck coiled and vicious.
Mena kept whispering to Elya as she pulled free of her buckles and slid down to the ground. Her left leg throbbed, but she did not betray it. She took a few steps forward, stood straight with her shoulders back. She tugged the mitten from her sword hand and took hold of the hilt of the King’s Trust. She waited like that as the enemy army crowded around her.
“Steady, Elya,” she said. To the invaders she called, “I am Princess Mena Akaran of Acacia. I speak for the queen. Who speaks for you?”
They barely acknowledged that she had said anything. They inched closer, pushed in as more arrived. They spoke among themselves in their own guttural tongue. The sounds were like threats and accusations, animal and wild, spoken from furred, tall beings, most hooded against the cold, their faces hidden from the dull winter light. They were not all Auldek. Mena could see humans among them-many, in fact-but they spoke and gestured with a fierceness akin to their masters’. Elya spread her wings. The crowd only swayed back a moment, and the flying beasts nipped from above, forcing her to fold in.
The uproar died down when several new arrivals pushed to the edge of the circle. A man stepped out in front of the others, followed by a woman nearly his height. He was tall, like most Numrek, but when he pushed back his hood Mena saw that his hair was auburn, thick, and long. He ran his fingers through it to loosen it, and then set his intense gaze on Mena. He carried a sheathed long sword in one big-knuckled hand, but he showed not the slightest intention of drawing it. The woman wore no headgear. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her cheekbones high and distinctive. Their features were not so physically dissimilar from that of the Numrek Mena had known, but the demeanor behind them was different, calmly intelligent, at ease in a manner no Numrek’s had ever been.
Auldek, Mena thought. Not Numrek.
As if to verify this, Calrach appeared behind the man. The Numrek’s face was a blunt twist of angry surprise. “Akaran,” he said, his accent thick with disgust. “You stupid bitch!”
Mena shifted her posture, ready to draw her sword.
“Princess Mena?” another voice said, in clear Acacian this time. A man squirmed between the two warriors and stood beside the Auldek’s shoulder. Despite the fantastic strangeness of it, Mena recognized him immediately. Rialus Neptos. “Is it really you? By the Giver-”
The Auldek snapped at him in his language.
“Yes, yes,” Rialus sputtered. He switched to the foreign tongue. Mena understood none of it, save when he said her name. The Auldek’s eyes widened at it, his interest gaining substance. The woman’s, in contrast, narrowed.
“Princess,” Rialus said, “what are you doing here?”
Elya hissed and snapped at one of the flying creatures.
Looking up, Mena said, “Tell them to call those things off. I can’t talk with them above us.”
“Oh, yes, the freketes,” Rialus said. “They are vile. I’ll ask Howlk to call them back.” He spoke Auldek to the man who had been riding one of the creatures. The Auldek man looked up, bemused, as if he had not noticed the circling monsters. It was the woman who barked a command. Several others picked it up. Noisy moments passed, but eventually the freketes flew away. Most came to rest at vantage points on the now still carriage buildings.
Attention back on her, Mena cleared her throat. She released her sword hilt. Considering how outnumbered she was, gripping it could show weakness instead of strength. She tried to find a different place for her hand to settle. She kept the focus of her eyes deliberate: her gaze on Rialus, on the Auldek directly in front of her.
“Rialus Neptos,” she said, “we must do this correctly. Introduce me to them, and them to me-if these be their monarchs.”
“Oh, they don’t have monarchs,” Rialus said. “Clan chieftains, yes, but that’s not the same as-�
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The Auldek man nudged him. If Mena had not been so tense, she might have been amused. Even if he could not understand Acacian, the Auldek knew a Neptos ramble gaining speed when he heard one.
Rialus spoke Numrek-Auldek, Mena corrected-again. A few moments later, he turned back to Mena. “They understand who you are. This man is Devoth of the clan Lvin. This woman is Sabeer, his wife. They are… like monarchs, in a way. There are chieftains from other clans as well, though. It’s complicated. You see, there are-” Devoth clicked his tongue. Rialus spoke rapidly. “Yes, yes, you can speak to them. There are no higher among them.”
“What of you?” Mena asked. “Can I trust you to speak my words as I say them? You have betrayed your country, after all.”
Rialus looked stricken. “No! Never. I am a prisoner among them!” He said this last with his voice slightly lowered. A strange action, for it was still easy enough for the others to hear. “I am faithful. The queen can be assured of it. Tell her that if you get back to her. I-I always work to… deter them. It’s not easy, though.”
“No, I don’t imagine so.” Mena pursed her lips. What choice did she have but to use this man as her translator? “Tell him I speak for the Empire of Acacia and for all the Known World. By Queen Corinn’s charge, I demand to know their purpose here.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Calrach said, gesturing around him. “See with your eyes.”
“Rialus,” Mena asked, jutting her chin at the Numrek chieftain, “has this one any status here?”
Rialus considered. Shrugged. “Not much.”
“Good. Then tell him to shut his mouth. He has no status in Acacia either. No status. No kin. They are all dead.”
“You lie.”
Mena crossed her arms as he spoke. “I killed the assassins sent to slay Prince Aaden myself. We butchered Greduc and Codeth in the Carmelia. My Marah and I cut them to pieces. I wish you had been there to see.”
“Do not believe her, Devoth,” Calrach said. “My clan is in a fortress that cannot be taken. They await word of us to begin a new slaughter.” He seemed to catch late that he was speaking Acacian. He switched to his own tongue.
“That plug of stone in Teh? That was no protection. Corinn called Crannag to the field and used her sorcery against them. They all died, Calrach. Your clan is no more.”
“You lie!” Calrach spat. He stepped toward her.
Mena backed up, her hand on her sword.
Devoth slammed an arm against the Numrek’s chest, stopping him. He demanded a translation from Rialus. After it, he responded through Rialus, “If what you say is true, I am filled with happiness.”
“He misunderstands me,” Mena said. “Queen Corinn’s powers are unmatched. She killed all the Numrek, and she will do the same to you if you continue into our lands. She sent me to tell you to turn around. She sent me so you know her conviction. Tell him so that he understands.”
Before Rialus could begin, Devoth said, this time speaking heavily accented Acacian, “I understand.”
Rialus turned and gazed at him, stunned.
“I know your tongue. I once had thoughts to… know your country. I learned your talking from the divine children. I asked them about your people. They could tell little, though. They were children only. Always children. I grew bored and forgot much. Years long back.” He grinned. “As you can see, I have found interest again.”
For the first time, the crowd was hushed to real silence.
“I understand what you say,” Devoth said. “It’s good what you say.”
Calrach tried to speak.
Devoth ignored him. “The Numrek are the Numrek.” He gestured with his fingers, trying to find the words to explain himself. His fingers opened as if they were dropping something inconsequential, dust that could be blown away on the breeze. “It is good to hear that your queen defeats them. A better foe for us, then.”
Mena was speechless, unsure how to respond. It was not just what he said that unnerved her. It was the undisguised confidence with which he said it. Not bravado. Not arrogance. Not foolery. Just…
“What else do you want to say to us? Rialus, translate so that all can hear.”
“I…” She hesitated, and then had an idea. She spoke so that her voice would carry. “I see you have humans among you. The queen wants them to know that we have no quarrel with them. We would welcome them back to Acacia, free citizens of wherever they choose to live. They need not fight for their enslavers anymore.”
Devoth listened, both to Mena and to the conclusion of Rialus’s translation. He looked around, content to let the offer sink in to all who heard it. “That is a clever idea, but you have it wrong. Your queen may have no quarrel with them, but they have a quarrel with her. You sold them as children. We raised them.”
“As slaves!”
“What do you know about it? We raised them. We gave them clans to belong to. We taught them a way to belong.”
“You made them slaves.”
“No, you made them slaves! We made them our children!” As fast as Devoth’s temper flared, he reined it in. With a calm, assured voice he said, “We have already made a pledge to them. After they help us defeat you, they will all be free to do as they wish. They will be slaves no longer, and we-not you-will be the ones who freed them. If what I have said is not true, anyone may say so now.”
The silence that followed was interrupted only by the grunts and chatter from the freketes. No one spoke.
Eventually, Mena said, “I have said what I came to say. You will find no Numrek waiting for you. If you fight us, we will destroy you just as we did them, and we will not make these offers again. If you turn now, we will not pursue you. Turn now. Let us forget each other.”
Devoth shrugged. “If you are done… Would you stay long enough to eat with us?”
“What?”
“To eat.” The Auldek scooped imaginary food into his mouth. “You are safe with us. Come eat. Have a drink. Rest before you go home.”
Mena realized that sometime in the last few minutes fear had drained out of her. Confidence with it. And purpose. She tried to pull it back into her voice. “I will not offer you peace like this again.”
“Good,” Devoth answered. “Your peace is nothing to talk about. Vapor. It’s talking about the wind. You can hear it. You can see that it shakes the trees. But you can never grasp hold of it. Better to leave it. You will not stay with us?”
Mena shook her head. Dine with them? No, that seemed a horrible idea, worse than fighting them all. She could not have said why the prospect chilled her so completely. “That’s not what I came for.”
“You came to spy,” Devoth said, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Isn’t that so? You didn’t come to threaten us. If you did, you did not come well prepared.”
The Auldek woman, Sabeer, muttered something in her tongue. A few grunted agreement. Some laughed.
“What did she say?” Mena asked.
Rialus sputtered a moment before saying, “I had told her of your life previously-that you were a great warrior. She-she finds that hard to believe now that she sees you.”
“If she wishes a test, she may have it,” Mena said.
Rialus frowned. “I won’t tell her that.”
“Why not? Tell her.”
“Princess, you’ve not seen how they fight.”
“I’ve killed Numrek. Tell her that.”
“These are not Numrek. Sabeer is-”
“Enough,” Devoth said. “Do not be women. Don’t die on Sabeer’s point.” He paused, a hand raised in mock concession to Mena’s snarl. “Or don’t kill my dear wife. No use in that. Be a messenger for us, Princess Mena Akaran. You will, yes? Take this message: the Auldek come for your lands. We come for slaughter.” He broke out of Acacian and shouted something in his own tongue. By the way the throng yelled in response Mena knew he was translating his words. He turned back to her. “This has been amusing, but if you will not eat and drink with us, go. Go now, fly home. Tell your queen our
nations are at war!” Again he turned and barked his translation. Again the crowd exploded in enthusiasm.
Mena felt Elya at her back. For the first time she realized how much the creature had surrounded her, her wings tented in a protective manner. “I would speak to Rialus Neptos in private.” She was not sure what she had to say to him, but thought she should try. Perhaps he would have something to offer.
The chieftain weighed this. “You can, but I would have to cut his tongue out first.” He gestured toward the dagger on his belt and waggled his tongue, and then grew serious. “He would be of little use, empty of words. If you wish, though…” He pulled the blade free and made to grab Rialus with his other hand.
“No,” Mena said. “I will take your message back. Do I have safe leave from here?” She indicated the flying beasts perched on the wagons.
Devoth grinned, shoving the dagger home and nudging Rialus playfully. “You do.” Calrach growled something close to the chieftain’s ear. Devoth flicked him away with his fingers. He said something softly in Auldek.
Rialus translated it as: “Fly safe, Princess. Fly true. Make your world ready for us.”
Turning from him, Mena slipped under the canopy of Elya’s upraised wing. She climbed into the saddle, slipped her legs into the harness, and fastened it. The Auldek waited in near silence. The freketes cried out, holding some fragmented conversation among themselves, eyes on Elya.
Sabeer said something to her, pointing a long finger at her as she did so.
“She says she will see you in battle,” Devoth said, acting as translator.
“Tell her I will kill her then.”
They spoke a moment, and then Devoth guffawed. “She says which of her souls will you kill? She has many within her.”
As Elya rose on her bunched hind legs, Mena said, “All of them. I’ll take all of them.” Elya leaped. Her wings flared and they were in flight, beating hard to rise above the raucous freketes, who trailed, snarling behind them for a time.
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