by Den Patrick
Yes. Namarii surveyed the crowd. A sort of anarchic glee. No longer would the people of Khlystburg’s worship be proscribed by a deathless and uncaring Emperor.
‘And now we will pray to the goddess Frøya,’ said Taiga, struggling to hold back grateful tears. ‘We will pray to be forgiven for turning away from her; for to turn away from Frøya is to turn away from life itself. We will pray for the Emperor’s downfall, and an end to Bittervinge. But most of all we will pray that Tief will be returned to us, as vital, hard-working, and cantankerous as he ever was.’
Kimi snorted a laugh and then tried to stifle it. She wasn’t sure laughter was a part of prayer, but the city folk evidently saw the humour in Taiga’s words and laughed too. It was no bad thing, Kimi decided; laughter was just as much a part of life as suffering and loss.
‘I offer no sacrifices,’ said Taiga, ‘save myself and my continued service. For all of my life, however long that may be.’
‘And I offer myself,’ said Kimi, moved to speak by Taiga’s oath. ‘As a new-found servant. For all of my life, however long that may be.’
The sunlight was nothing short of blinding. Where there had been a chill wind and the promise of rain, now there was golden light falling in diagonal columns from above. The cliff tops blazed in glorious sunshine and a gasp of surprise escaped the crowd.
‘She is with us,’ said Taiga, tears tracking freely down her cheeks. ‘Can you feel it?’ Many of the city folk cried out in joy or laughed aloud, raising their hands to catch Frøya’s light. Kimi was about to reply that she felt nothing save for the warmth of the sun, but remained quiet and took a moment to search her feelings.
‘I feel at peace,’ she said. ‘No matter my father’s death, no matter Tsen’s betrayal. I will trust in Frøya and see this through to the end, though it may cost me my life.’ Taiga smiled and squeezed Kimi’s hand. Slowly they got to their feet and Tief rolled onto his side. He covered his still-shut eyes with one arm.
‘Uh. I’ve got a real headache,’ he mumbled. After a few moments he sat up and stared at the two women standing over him. A huge shout of joy went up from the crowd of city folk, and the dragons all released plumes of fire into the air.
‘What in Hel’s name is going on?’ said Tief, looking around in alarm though bleary eyes.
‘Come and have some tea,’ replied Taiga impishly. ‘I’ll tell you all about it.’
While Frøya had most certainly brought the light back into their lives, Tief’s mood was far from sunny.
‘We need to get back up there and kill that bastard.’ Tief glowered at the horizon. He’d drawn his sword and was pacing back and forth.
‘You’ve been unconscious for some time,’ said Taiga. Kimi had begun to prepare a meal, more to leave the brother and sister alone than out of any need to eat. Now the stew was bubbling nicely and Kimi realized she was famished.
‘I mean it, Taiga! That black-scaled bastard nearly killed me. I want—’
Stonvind, who had presided over his rider’s unruly outburst for some time, reached out with one foot and pushed the small, wiry man down until he was pinned to the ground.
Pour the food into his mouth. It is the only way.
‘That’s not funny!’ shouted Tief, wriggling under the dragon’s foot. Stonvind lowered his head until the blunt tip of his snout was just feet away from Tief.
You are correct. There is nothing funny about a man who has narrowly avoided death rushing to meet the same fate.
‘You don’t get to tell me not to be rash!’ shouted Tief. ‘I’ve been being rash since before you were born, you oversized reptile.’
Shut up, Tief. Stonvind removed his foot from Tief’s chest. We were worried about you. At least perform the simple courtesy of sharing food with us before we rejoin battle.
Tief brushed the dirt from his clothes and glanced at everyone with a rueful look on his lined face. A lined face that had been deeply bruised until just an hour ago.
‘Food?’ asked Kimi, holding out a bowl to him. He trudged over and took what was offered.
‘I’m sorry for being an arse.’
‘If you weren’t behaving like an arse I might not believe it was you.’ Kimi grinned and Tief grinned back, blushing as he did so.
‘He nearly bloody killed me,’ said Tief in a quiet voice.
‘He nearly bloody did,’ agreed Kimi. ‘And it scared all of us. Not least you. But things will be different next time.’
Things will be different, agreed Namarii, nodding to Stonvind.
‘I’d best eat then, eh?’ said Tief.
‘And smoke your pipe,’ added Kimi. ‘Or I really will struggle to believe it’s you.’
One by one the dragons took off. All three now sported modified saddles, salvaged from the many pack and riding animals they had eaten. Scaled wings stretched out wide to take advantage of the thermals rising up from land itself. Namarii’s ascent was smoother than it had been for days.
‘I’m glad we’re past the phase where you try to shake me loose,’ shouted Kimi over the wind.
It is barely worth it. With the saddle you are as firmly embedded as a leech.
‘Charming,’ replied Kimi with an arched eyebrow.
It was an attempt at humour. Was it not amusing?
‘Perhaps it’s best we concentrate on killing things?’
I will take that as a no.
The three dragons flew north to the smoking and deserted city. Taiga no longer hunched down against Flodvind’s neck, but sat up proudly in her saddle, shielding her eyes from the worst of the wind; her other hand grasped the silver sickle of her goddess. Tief, who had always been the more enthusiastic rider of them, now sat watchfully, neither hollering or whooping. His sword rested in its scabbard alongside the saddle. Kimi reached to the small of her back, where the Ashen Blade had been secured in a sheath.
‘Every advantage available to us,’ she whispered as her fingers traced the hilt of the enchanted blade.
May Frejna’s eye not find you, proclaimed Namarii.
And may Frøya keep you close, replied Stonvind and Flodvind with the ritual response. They flew on, passing from bright sunlight, under dark rain clouds and back into the light once more.
They circled the city, all eyes, human and draconic, searching every shattered tower for a sign of the father of dragons. Every plume of smoke from every smouldering building offered a hiding place, but the dark majesty of Bittervinge was curiously absent from Khlystburg.
I can feel him. Flodvind stopped abruptly in the air, hovered a moment on three beats of her blue wings, before landing on a warehouse roof. The tiles cracked and groaned beneath her weight, but the building did not collapse. Stonvind and Namarii took her lead, and set down nearby.
‘What do your senses tell you, Flodvind?’ asked Kimi.
He is not alone. It seems even the father of dragons has need of foot soldiers, much like the Emperor.
‘Foot soldiers?’ asked Kimi.
Figuratively speaking. Flodvind stretched out her neck as if to get a better look at the surrounding city. He has recruited two dragons to aid him.
Tief swore and looked over his shoulder, expecting an attack from any quarter; his sword was in his hand.
Your friend does his best to cover his fear. Kimi guessed Namarii’s words had been for her and her alone. Neither Tief or Stonvind responded.
‘Can you blame him?’ whispered Kimi. ‘Bittervinge almost killed him last time.’
Let us hope he masters that fear. Hold on! Namarii launched into the sky a heartbeat before his kin joined him.
‘What …?’ But Kimi didn’t need to finish her question. Approaching from the west were three winged shapes, casting fearsome shadows over the docks.
So Bittervinge has persuaded some of the younger dragons to join him in his cause. Namarii released a long growl as he flew closer. No matter. They will share his fate. The enemy dragons were closer now, wings beating hard. Bittervinge flew at the centre of their formation
, almost twice the size of the dragons either side of him.
‘Nothing’s changed!’ shouted Kimi. ‘We came to slay the father of dragons!’
Tief and Taiga nodded, heads bent against the wind that whipped past them, clutching on to their saddles tightly. The dragons reached out with talons in anticipation and Kimi could feel a growing heat, the heat of Namarii’s fire. With a sound like a thousand bodies hitting the ground, the six dragons collided in the skies above Khlystburg.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Kjellrunn
Many people criticize the goddesses for not taking a more active role in fighting the tyranny of Volkan Karlov. I take a different stance. Many times during the uprising a friendly face might appear when it was least expected, against all odds. Perhaps it was Frejna or Frøya who rearranged the strands of chance to weave people together in times of need. Truthfully we’ll never know, but I like to believe those who came into contact with the goddesses’ agents became extensions of their divine will.
– From the memoir of Drakina Tveit, Lead Librarian of Midtenjord Province
She was still floating above the ground when the crew of the Watcher’s Wait emerged from their hiding places on the ruined waterfront. Kjellrunn looked at the devastation around her and was reminded of the woodland clearing back in Cinderfell. She had nearly killed Mistress Kamalov with her fury that day. The Stormtide Prophet descended gently, touching down on the floorboards of the inn. The building had collapsed, and each wall had split apart and fallen outwards. The point where she now stood had been the eye of storm, untouched by the objects in the room, which had leapt from the ground at her command and danced a frenzy, around and around, until Exarch Zima was nothing more than a pulped and broken smear.
‘Trine?’ There was no sign of the dark-haired woman. ‘Trine? Oh, Frøya, what have I done?’
‘She’s here,’ called Romola, kneeling on the docks beside the still-unconscious initiate. ‘She’s heavier than she looks,’ the captain added as Kjellrunn approached.
‘Trine?’
The girl shivered at Kjellrunn’s touch and her eyes opened to narrow slits. ‘Did we kill him?’ she croaked from a dry throat.
‘She’s going to be fine,’ said Romola. Kjellrunn wanted to laugh.
‘He’s gone,’ she whispered, folding her body over the initiate and hugging her for a moment.
‘Hel’s teeth, Kjellrunn.’ The pirate captain looked at the wreckage of the inn as best she could. ‘I thought …’ But Romola couldn’t bring herself to say it. Her eyes glittered with tears and she reached on instinct for the Stormtide Prophet, holding her close.
‘We’re fine,’ whispered Trine, rising to her feet. ‘We’re both fine.’ But the rigid way she carried herself and the look on her face proclaimed otherwise.
The crew of the Watcher’s Wait sifted through the remains of the inn. It was a long, sombre hour before Ruslan’s body was found. He had curled up in a ball, not far from the body of his former master.
‘Frøya forgive me,’ said Kjellrunn as Ruslan’s body was retrieved from under broken timber.
‘He was already dead,’ said Romola. ‘Exarch Zima saw to that. I witnessed it with my own eyes.’ Kjellrunn couldn’t be sure whether the captain was telling the truth, or simply trying to spare her conscience. ‘You saved us, Kjellrunn,’ added Romola. ‘All of us. The Boyar and Ruslan played their part, but they paid for it.’
‘Perhaps they’d still be alive if they hadn’t sold Steiner out,’ sneered Trine.
‘And perhaps the Emperor would have killed them both if they hadn’t,’ replied Kjellrunn. ‘Come on.’ She took Trine by the hand. ‘There’s something I must do.’ She approached the waterfront’s edge and tried not to think of Ruslan or the day she’d nearly killed Mistress Kamalov. The prophet and her initiate walked along a pier until they reached the end, as far out into the bay as she could be without getting wet.
‘Kjellrunn? What’s going on?’ Trine’s voice was rich with hushed concern. Far out to sea the leviathan breached the surface gently, so as to not cause another wave that would sweep inland.
‘It’s time to say goodbye.’ Kjellrunn was smiling. ‘He can’t help us where we’re going.’
‘Why are you smiling?’ asked Trine, looking pale and uncomfortable in the afternoon light.
‘Because all things come to end.’ The leviathan slipped beneath the water and Kjellrunn felt its presence becoming fainter with each passing moment. It would always be there, she realized, but for now their fates lay along different paths.
Trine looked at her arms. It was hard to ignore the spiralling soot-dark marks in the daylight; they stood out in stark contrast to her white skin.
‘Dragons will be the death of me, one way or another. Either Bittervinge will snatch me up, or the taint will consume me. I can feel it, Kjell. I can feel it growing.’
‘You’re going to survive this,’ said Kjellrunn, though in truth she was terrified of what lay ahead.
‘I can’t talk you out of this, can I?’ Romola stood on the waterfront, overseeing the search for salvage. Maxim, who had been under captain’s orders to remain on the Wait, had been summoned to where Romola could keep an eye on him. The boy looked at Kjellrunn with wide eyes. There was awe there, but also disbelief that she would leave him.
‘I have to go. For Steiner and my father.’
Maxim nodded and turned to Romola, burying his face in her shoulder.
‘But you’re so weak,’ replied Romola. ‘At least collect your strength for a day.’
Kjellrunn felt the same feeling of calm she had experienced as she released the leviathan from her control. ‘I will see you again,’ she said. ‘Both of you.’
No one spoke, although the air was thick with unsaid declarations. The pirates watched her walk deeper into the city. Some raised their hands in farewell, but most simply bowed their heads, as if a funeral procession were passing by. Crows flitted from rooftop to rooftop, and a score of grey cats slunk along the streets, Frøya’s familiars trailing after her prophet. Trine walked by her side, so tired she took each step in a daze.
The city was a place of echoes. The parts that had not burned to the ground remained standing but shorn of purpose. No one lingered in their home save the desperate or the mad. The lost and the abandoned stared at Kjellrunn and Trine with tear-streaked faces, cursing in Solska or nursing the silence to their breast with bitter gazes.
‘Do you know which direction the palace is in?’ asked Trine after they had been walking for some time.
‘No. But I imagine he does.’ Kjellrunn pointed at a black fleck in the sky circling some distant district, occasionally diving towards the surface and releasing a gout of fire. Other winged shapes could be seen in the sky, circling one another, like huge birds of prey.
‘Bittervinge,’ said Trine with such a look of unhappiness Kjellrunn almost sent her back. She would never go, of course. Too stubborn by far. Hadn’t Mistress Kamalov said they were alike?
‘What are you thinking about?’ asked Trine.
‘Old friends,’ replied Kjellrunn. ‘Old and wise.’
The first group of soldiers they encountered were lingering by a junction. The battered armour made it clear they had been involved in fighting looters or insurgents, while the missing shields suggested they might not have been the victors. The men eyed the two girls with puzzled expressions, no doubt baffled by the ragged black vestments. One of their number stepped forward and hailed them in a few languages before settling on Nordvlast, though he spoke haltingly and with a heavy accent.
‘No further. Danger here. Not permitted near the palace.’
‘I’m sorry, but I must go on.’ Kjellrunn took a step closer. ‘I’m looking for my brother.’
‘No brother here. Go back.’ The soldier reached out to take her by the shoulder but Kjellrunn knocked his hand aside with a simple sweep of her wrist.
‘I said no further.’ The soldier grabbed again, but this time he went for
Kjellrunn’s hair. She punched upwards with the power of her legs and her whole body underneath her fist, which now shimmered as granite. A loud crack sent the man sprawling and he hit the cobbles, his armour making a din as he landed. The remaining soldiers stared at Kjellrunn, disbelief etched on their dirty faces. Their eyes drifted to her fist, made stone by the arcane.
‘It’s the prophet!’ said one of the men, and as one they turned and fled. Trine smirked; then she released a peal of nervous laughter.
‘That was far easier than it had any right to be.’
‘And you didn’t have to use your fire,’ said Kjellrunn.
‘Perhaps we’ll win the war on your reputation alone?’ Trine grinned again and watched the soldiers retreat. Kjellrunn looked down at her fist and noticed she still felt the abiding sense of calm from earlier.
Onwards they went. Bittervinge continued to wage his own war in the skies, but there was no way of telling where the Imperial Palace was. Kjellrunn was confident she knew the way. Khlystburg had been founded according to the Emperor’s design, and all roads led to the centre. The city was abandoned here and only the sounds of vast reptiles fighting above them sundered the silence.
‘It’s as if Bittervinge swooped down and ate everyone,’ said Trine.
‘I imagine that’s exactly what he’s been doing,’ replied Kjellrunn. ‘And those that haven’t been eaten have fled.’
Trine nodded towards a street that was flanked by grand buildings featuring golden domes. Ten soldiers blocked the far end.
‘That has to be the palace behind them,’ said Kjellrunn. A look overhead confirmed her retinue of crows maintained their vigil from the rooftops, while the cats remained on the ground. ‘Let’s hope these ones are as brave as the last batch.’
A crossbow bolt whipped past so close it might have snagged her hair. A shocked moment passed before Kjellrunn reached out with a flat hand. More crossbow bolts sped down the street, hitting the ward of arcane force she had conjured before her. Trine sheltered behind the prophet and swore gently as more bolts impacted the wall of force.