“Inbecca, can you speak?” he asked.
She flailed against his hold and tried to pull herself upright. “Eremi, thank you,” she said. “My horse?”
Magpie shook his head. He helped her to sit up against his chest and brought her back to the Corona. The two kings met her on the deck to assist her down from the saddlebow.
“I thank you, Your Highnesses,” she said. Her voice sounded shaky.
“Sit down, my lady,” Soliandur said, helping her inside the captain’s cabin. “Eremilandur, fetch her wine.”
“No, sir, I must return to my troop.” Inbecca tried to stand, but her knees wouldn’t hold her. Magpie hurried to put his shoulder under her arm and brought her to a chair. She settled into it, but looked perturbed at requiring it. “Thank you,” she said. “I lost sight of the danger. I am not accustomed to magical battle. I will do better. The poor horse. It died for trusting me.”
“Do not chide yourself, lady. None of us would have done better.”
“My fellow knights all did better,” she said. Magpie could not miss the bitterness in her voice. He poured wine from the sideboard and knelt beside her while she drank it. Serafina came into the cabin, her staff in hand. Patha followed her.
“Is your lady wounded?” she asked Magpie.
“Not in body,” he replied. “Shaken, as any of us would be.” Patha came to her other side and checked her eyes.
“You are brave, my lady. You will be all right.”
Serafina held her hand over the cup of wine. A thin rune formed upon the surface and dissolved into the liquid. “This will steady you.”
“I thank you, wizard,” Inbecca said graciously. She took a sip.
“Where is my niece?” Sharhava’s voice came from outside.
Chapter Thirty-six
harhava strode in with Lar Colruba at her heels. When she saw Inbecca, she checked her pace and came to look down upon Inbecca like a hawk on a branch.
“Are you well, my niece?” she asked.
Inbecca gave her a curious look, then the schooled set of her features returned. “I am well, Aunt.”
“I am relieved.” She turned to Serafina. “We are losing this battle. The Great Book has gone out of our reach. Without its magic we can no longer sustain the magic needed to keep ourselves in the sky. Look about you!”
They did. Magpie was horrified to realize that the ship was devoid of runes for the first time since they had set sail on her.
“Is the battle lost?” Patha asked grimly.
“It should not be, not with this lady’s help,” Sharhava said.
“I understand that,” the wizardess said gravely. “I will do my best to maintain spells for all of you as well as the guards, but I don’t have the experience or the strength of Master Olen.”
“Never mind that man,” Sharhava said. “You have all the skills you will need. We prefer to be self-sufficient.”
“How?” the wizardess asked. “All I can do is give you a road upon which you can ride. I cannot give you powers of your own.”
Sharhava looked grim. “We will make do without the demon fire, although that has been a more useful weapon than our blades.”
“What, then? I can do little more than I have.”
“You can do far more than that,” Sharhava said. “I have been watching you all day and night. What you are doing is precisely what we require. I want you to change me and my knights so that we can carry the battle into the beasts’ own domain.”
“What?” Soliandur demanded.
“I must not do that,” Serafina said, shocked.
“Do you call yourself a master wizardess? Of course you must. This is not a time for hesitation. We have no choice. We must take drastic measures. They will kill all of us. They are decimating the horses. The animals are not fit to take on these monsters. We are! Give us the means to fight without them.” She met Patha’s eyes. The werewolf matriarch nodded slowly. “I have seen how change can be good as well as evil. This would be for the best reasons possible.”
“You want me to make you into werewolves?” Serafina asked. “I do not know if I can.”
Sharhava exploded with impatience. “What good would that do? Give us wings at least, girl! Hurry. We will not live to see the dawn if our defense is halved.”
“Wings? Change you into thraiks?” Serafina’s eyes were wide with horror. “That would be an abomination in truth. I cannot do that.”
Sharhava gripped the girl’s arm. “Yes, you can. To my cost I know what the runes can do. The book is not here, so you must be the one to do it, or I would do it myself.”
“You cannot! You do not have the training. What about poor Lar Bertin . . . ?”
“I would rather die trying than give up to those creatures. Give us the means to protect the ships, or they won’t be here when the others return.”
If they return, Magpie thought, but didn’t say so aloud.
The sound of something heavy falling onto the deck above their heads made everyone jump and look up.
“King Halcot’s guards are getting the worst of this battle because we can no longer aid them,” Sharhava said, pointing upward. “Don’t you see? Don’t hesitate. Do it. You can read their runes. I can’t see them any longer, but I know the word for wings. Theirs are powerful and long. Give us the same. Steal from this wizard’s own design to confound him. Start with me! I will send my brothers and sisters back to you.”
“I . . . I cannot! I need to study. I can’t take a chance on harming you.”
“You must! Your mother was a war-wizardess at one time. Take pride in your heritage, curse you! Wizards have always let others take the blame for their inaction. I will not allow you to stand still.” Sharhava’s face was as red as Serafina’s was pale. Magpie could see that Serafina longed to debate the issue further, but Sharhava was right: there was no time. If they were to stave off the winged monsters for much longer, they needed enough defenders to maintain the balance.
“Should I not go first, Abbess?” Colruba asked. “In case there is any problem? I would rather have it happen to me than to you.”
Sharhava put an almost tender hand on the young knight’s shoulder and smiled down at her. “I will let my knights take no risk I will not take myself. Come, wizardess. Now, where may I find a pen?”
Patha took two long strides to the wall and unlocked the cupboard that was built into the wall above the captain’s desk. She returned with a brass pen and inkwell. Sharhava dipped the pen and seized Magpie’s hand.
“Be useful for a change, boy,” she said. She began to inscribe fine lines upon his palm. He felt foolish being used as a piece of parchment, but the pleading look in Inbecca’s eyes made him swallow his protest. When she was finished, she held it out to the wizardess.
“Simple and elegant. You can follow it easily.”
“I object to this, Abbess,” Serafina said.
“I know. Disagree with me later. Action, now.” She turned her back.
Serafina clutched her hands together. She closed her eyes for a moment. Gradually, her face relaxed. When she opened her eyes, Magpie fancied just for a moment he saw Edynn look out of their dark depths. She pointed the head of her staff to each of the directions until everyone in the room was surrounded by a thin gray veil, warding against interruption or corruption of the work she was about to undertake. She studied the design on Magpie’s palm and nodded to herself.
The young wizardess tweaked a stroke here, a whorl there, then sent it gliding until it touched Sharhava’s back. The shimmering lines suffused her, changing her. Sharhava’s face twisted in pain. Inbecca gasped as the habit at her aunt’s back split. Wings almost identical to the thraiks’ but of the color of Sharhava’s pale flesh sprang forth and unfurled fine, translucent sails. The spines looked like long delicate arms, terminating in a pointed finger with a sharp nail on the end. Sharhava’s face took on a strained expression as she tried to flap them. The resultant backwash lifted her off the deck. Her face lit up.<
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“Abbess, it is a marvel!” Colruba exclaimed.
“In many ways,” Patha said.
Sharhava let herself settle. She drew one of the fine sails around to examine it.
“Well done, Mistress Serafina,” she said. When she smiled, Magpie saw that her corner teeth had sharpened. Perhaps the trait was tied to the batlike wings. “Now I am prepared to take these monsters in the sky. No time to practice. I’ll have to go as I am. Now, remember what I said! I shall have each of my people come to you for the same.”
Inbecca rose from her seat and placed the wine cup on the floor.
“I shall go next, Aunt.”
Sharhava looked shocked, then drew herself up to her full height, augmented by the arch of the wings. “Not you, Inbecca.”
Inbecca set her chin and turned to the wizardess, who looked from one to the other. “Don’t pay her any attention, Mistress Serafina. Change me, too. I will serve with my fellow knights.”
“You will not, Lar Inbecca. You may take my horse. I will not need him until . . . later.”
“But I am one of you,” Inbecca said. “I took the vows.”
Soliandur stepped forward to intercede. “You are and you are not,” he said very gently. “There are some dangers we fellow kings will allow you to take, but that is not one I want to explain to your mother. Will you ride with me and my son? We would be honored.”
“She will,” Sharhava said. “I order it. Will you obey, Lar Inbecca, or will you set a poor example for my other knight?”
Inbecca’s mouth was open with indignation. She glared at her aunt, who was so changed in body but not at all in spirit. Colruba regarded her with pleasant, guileless respect.
“I will obey the orders of my abbess,” Inbecca said at last. Sharhava gave her a regal smile.
“Good. I have left my troops uncaptained for too long. Let us go. Lar Colruba, come when you are prepared.”
“I will, Abbess.”
Sharhava nodded sharply and strode from the cabin, a grinning Patha at her side. Magpie and Inbecca hurried in their wake.
Though without the runes the ship seemed darker than before, every eye turned immediately toward them. A few of the humans gasped openly at Sharhava’s transformation. Halcot, who had remained aloft when the others descended, stopped his horse in midair and gaped.
“What in the Mother’s name have you done to yourself?”
Sharhava regarded him austerely. “I have done what I must to carry the fight back to these creatures, my lord.” She opened the pale wings, and the werewolves let out howls of glee. “Wish me good luck.”
“The best of luck goes to those who have done what they can to earn it, as you have, my lady,” Halcot said, sweeping her a salute with his sword. “Fortune favor you.”
Sharhava inclined her head. “I thank you.” She drew her sword. The massive wings flapped, and she soared into the dark sky toward the nearest troop of knights. The thraiks scattered in alarm at her coming, freeing the Scholardom to gather around her. Magpie squinted past the lanterns. He could see her pale hands gesturing, then pointing down toward the deck.
Lar Colruba emerged from the cabin similarly changed, and spread her wings to join her abbess.
“What freedom,” she cried as the cold gusts of wind lifted her skyward. “By the Book, what have we missed?”
Magpie noticed Patha smiling as she watched the knights in their new shape pursuing thraiks into the runeless zone. “What is in your mind, my lady?”
“I was thinking I will never have better revenge than this,” the werewolf female said, her jaw dropping in a wide, toothy grin. “To have my enemies turning beyond friends into kinship—the Father of Time could not have planned it better.”
A few at a time, the Scholardom arrived to undergo their own alteration. Some were willing, others curious. The rest were apprehensive, and a few openly offended. Lar Romini stood with his arms crossed and an expression of fury on his face.
“This is anathema,” he said. “We will be struck down.”
“Easy, brother,” Lar Brouse said, patting his friend on the back. “I will accept this is necessary for the moment. The abbess would not require this if it were not.”
“I can accept that our mission has been changed, but how can she ask us to destroy the sanctity of our bodies?”
Brouse bowed his head. “We are but servants of the Great Book, my friend. If this will keep it safe, what does it matter what becomes of us?”
“Well, you see what, right here!” Romini blurted. He pointed.
Lar Auric emerged from the cabin, pale wings clinging to his back like a cape. He was so tall the top joint banged on the lintel. Swearing, he ducked down to clear the wooden post. He went by his comrades, shaking his head. “New ideas,” he said scornfully. Once free of the obstruction, he stretched his wings and took off to join the abbess.
Brouse and Romini watched him go.
“We can be restored again later, can’t we?” Brouse asked with an expression of unease on his broad face.
“That is why the runes were taken,” Magpie said solemnly, though he longed to tease the bulky almoner. “Yet you might wish to remain in that shape permanently. You might enjoy having wings.”
“I would rather have the shape Mother Nature gave me, Highness,” Brouse said stuffily, “but it is the abbess’s orders.” He marched into the cabin as if he were going to his execution. Romini watched him go and shook his head.
Sharhava’s knights spread out across the dark sky and dove into the fray as nimbly as if they were fighting duels with novice swordsmen. They took to flight as swiftly and naturally as they had to riding horses on thin air. Magpie had to admit that he both respected and envied them. More of the knights than Colruba had found joy in catching the winds underneath the sails of their wings. All around the ships was dark. Only a few lengths away, the sea still danced with runes, maddeningly out of reach of the defenders. The thraiks now understood the humans were reluctant to follow them into the blackness, and made full use of it. Once the winged humans had arisen, the thraiks had nowhere to escape, save through the tears in the sky.
When Serafina had remade the last of the knights, she returned to the bloodstained patch of deck to watch over the wounded and mourn the dead. Halcot landed to give his mount a chance to rest. Magpie, his father, and Inbecca went aloft in his place.
On her second borrowed steed, Inbecca rode close to Magpie as they kept their circuit low above the wheelhouse but high enough that no one else could easily hear them.
“Are you well?” he asked her.
“I am ashamed,” she replied, turning her head so she could not see his face. “I did not want any special treatment.”
“Don’t be ashamed,” Magpie said flippantly. “We may not survive this battle, so no one will ever hear of your shame.”
She reached out and pushed his shoulder in response to his tease. “True. Then if we are going to die, I am glad I am fighting side by side with you.”
He felt a rush of warmth, pride, and courage. “I would face anything to be with you.”
She smiled, a little sadly. “It’s as it should have been,” she said.
“Let us hope appearance of winged humans will turn the tide in favor of the defenders,” Magpie said.
Chapter Thirty-seven
akanta walked at the head of the file through the eerie night of the cavern. The faint sensation of a breeze was all she had to go on. No matter how many runes there were around them, they still didn’t tell her which way was out. They decided that it was better not to rely upon Teldo’s handful of fire for a light source in case someone else turned up in the passageway. Bad enough that her boots and Rin’s hooves rang on the stone floor.
After so many months on short rations, she knew the Summerbee brothers were tiring. They supported each other over the slippery ground and whispered for her to wait when one of them fell. She was determined that she was going to bring them back alive to Tildi. The girl had
been so kind to her. Not that they weren’t good men, too. Lakanta felt it to be a sacred duty to reunite her friend with her brothers. If she couldn’t have her own family restored, at least she could bring joy to another. It would be a tribute to Adelobert.
“I scent the sea,” Rin said, tossing her head. Lakanta glanced back over her shoulder toward the end of the file. The centaur’s eyes gleamed against the dark of her face. “I smell salt. It is blowing into my face.”
“But we are walking uphill,” Gosto said. “If we were beneath sea level these caverns would be full of water instead of running with them. Perhaps we should follow the flow down. It must go somewhere.”
“It could go to an underground lake that has never seen daylight,” Lakanta said. “I know many such in my kinfolks’ mountains. I want the source of that breeze. Winds do not whistle beneath the earth.”
“All right,” Pierin said gamely, but she heard the sheer exhaustion in his voice. “Let us go on. As long as it doesn’t take us into that madman’s hall again.”
The moss-men had not been seen since they had left the cell. They could have been following, but it would have to be at a great distance. Rin would have spotted their runes in the dark. They didn’t strike her as subtle creatures. Anything with a lick of sense would have searched the room and found the hole in the wall.
The green light flickered and went out, leaving Lakanta momentarily blind. Her eyes recovered swiftly. The world was filled with a tracery of gold. She sought about for the nearest of the moving runes near her.
“Teldo, are you all right?”
His voice sounded breathless. “Just lost my concentration for a moment. I’ll be fine.” A flicker of green appeared and spread until the hand-sized ball of flame had resumed. In its light, Lakanta surveyed his hollow eyes. He saw her concern and smiled. “Hope we find that open air soon. I wonder what time of day it is outside.”
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