Skyborn

by Lou Anders

  Get off! Get off! Get off! its thoughts screamed. It tugged its neck in a useless attempt to dislodge the frost giant, but when Thianna released it, the wyvern added, For what it’s worth, I hope you succeed at your mad scheme.

  “Sure you won’t come?”

  Bringing you here to the coast was risk enough. I’m leaving now, before the dawn arrives. Live well or die well, Thianna Frostborn.

  Then, without another word, it flapped its wings and rose into the night. Flittermouse squeaked once, then the bat too flew away into the darkness.

  “A tearful farewell?” asked Karn. Lacking Thianna’s ability to communicate with reptiles, he had only heard the frost giant’s half of the conversation.

  “What do you think?” she replied. “Still, I guess that wyvern was as sentimental as they get.” She chuckled. “I must be growing on it.”

  “Kind of like mold on cheese?” teased Karn.

  Thianna punched his shoulder playfully, then guided by Desstra’s night vision the three companions began making their way down the hill.

  They knew from Karn’s experience studying maps of the world that the city was called Ithonea. Choosing it as their point of entry into Thica had been a compromise between avoiding the most obvious, direct route while not wanting to detour too far out of their way. They slipped into the city just as it was waking up. There were no guards or gates to impede their progress. Non-Thican boats were kept at bay by the Death Ray of Damnameneus, a large parabolic mirror that harnessed the sun’s rays to project a beam of light that set ships afire. Similar mirrors were erected around the entire Thican coast.

  Thianna had visited a half-dozen cities since she’d left her mountaintop last year. Each was as different from the other as it was from a frost giant’s village. Ithonea was no exception. It was a city of twisting, narrow streets that wound between white-painted houses roofed with large terra-cotta tiles. It stretched up a hillside, broken into districts by ancient walls and crumbling fortifications that still stood from the era of Gordion conquest. Paved steps that ascended narrow passageways were painted an aquamarine blue. At a glance they looked like tumbling fountains spilling over rocks. As Ithonea came to life, so did Thianna’s enthusiasm.

  “My mother’s homeland,” she pronounced in awe. “I never imagined that I’d see it, but here we are.”

  Although the half giant was taller than anyone else, the people around her all shared her dark olive complexion and dark hair. Even the nonhumans she saw amid the crowd looked more like her kin than the frost giants she had grown up with. This was indeed her mother’s country, and she drank it all in. Beside her, her companions had donned cloaks and hoods to hide their pale skin and, in Karn’s case, fair hair. Desstra also wore quartz lenses to protect her eyes from the sun.

  Thianna’s nostrils quivered at the smell of grilled lamb.

  “Food!” she said enthusiastically. “Hey, what do they use for money here?”

  “Drachmas,” Karn replied. “I’d be surprised if they took our foreign coin.” He fingered the silver ring on his left hand. The face was cast to look like the rings of a tree stump. It was the symbol of the secret society known as the Order of the Oak. “I wonder what this is worth.”

  “You’re thinking of pawning it?” Thianna was surprised. “Didn’t Greenroot say it would mark you as a friend of the Order, maybe open doors for you?”

  “Surely not here,” said Karn, but he left the ring on his finger.

  They followed the market as it wound uphill. Thianna observed that the shops became more expensive the higher they rose. She also noticed that they had begun to draw stares from the Ithoneans, some of them unfriendly. Despite her height, however, most of the looks were directed downward, toward their legs.

  She stopped walking when a little boy blocked her way, gaping at her with his mouth open. Thianna frowned at him, a rude retort taking shape on her tongue.

  “Awesome!” he said, and his face lit with admiration.

  “What?” said Thianna, taken aback.

  The boy pointed.

  “My legs?” she asked. “What is it about my legs?”

  The child reached out tentatively to poke the fabric of her woolen breeches.

  Suddenly the boy’s mother was beside him, her face pinched with disapproval.

  “Come away from her, Pogos,” she said, ushering her son back from Thianna.

  “We were just talking,” said the giantess.

  “I don’t care if it’s all the rage among you young people to dress like barbarians,” said the child’s mother. “Your parents would be ashamed.”

  “What are you on about?” replied the frost giant, her face flushing in anger.

  “Your pants!” the woman spat. “Look at you, parading around like a savage in pants!”

  With that she hurried her child away.

  It was then that Thianna realized they were the only ones in the city sporting leg wear. Everyone else was dressed in robes or, as a concession to the heat, knee-length tunics bound at the waist. No one besides herself, Karn, and Desstra had anything on their legs. Thinking of Desstra, Thianna realized the girl had vanished.

  “Where’s the elf?” she asked Karn.

  He looked around and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe she had a change of heart after all,” Thianna said.

  “Or maybe she got you breakfast,” said Desstra, surprising them by appearing in their midst. She passed Karn and Thianna wraps of grilled lamb in pita bread.

  “How did you get these?” asked Karn.

  “Drachmas,” replied the elf, jingling a newly stolen coin purse affixed to her belt. Karn winced at her casual thievery, though he knew the need was great. And unlike other dark elves he had met, she wouldn’t have harmed anyone for it.

  “Thank you,” he said, glaring at Thianna to do the same.

  “We need to find the Thican Empire’s local garrison,” she replied, ignoring him.

  “Already taken care of,” said Desstra. “Yes, I’m that perfect,” she added when Thianna raised an eyebrow. “There’s an old keep midway up the hill.” She indicated the way. “Just far enough away you’ll be able to eat your breakfast before we get there.”

  Sure enough, by the time Thianna and Karn had finished eating and Thianna had purchased and wolfed down a second breakfast, Desstra had led them to the garrison. They saw several soldiers lounging about before the gate.

  “This looks like the place,” said the frost giant.

  “Yes,” said Karn, who recognized the distinctive bronze and black leather armor. “But are all Thican soldiers women?”

  Sure enough, the soldiers out front were exclusively female. As had been all the Thican soldiers they had encountered on their adventures.

  “I guess we’ll find out,” said Thianna. “Are we ready to do this?”

  “If you’re certain,” said Karn.

  “The only way out is through,” she replied. “Let’s go make some new friends.” Then she marched forward to the gate, her height and her strange companions drawing looks from the soldiers.

  “Looks like we’ve got their attention,” Karn observed.

  “One way to be sure,” his friend replied.

  Thianna slid the arming sword from her sheath. Beside her, Karn drew his sword, Whitestorm, and Desstra readied a pair of slender darts. Now the soldiers became alert, readying swords, spears, and the deadly fire lances. They shouted for backup and rushed into defensive positions.

  Thianna let them assemble, then walked straight up to their line of menacing weapons.

  “I’m Thianna Frostborn,” she said. “And these are my companions.” She held her sword ready. Then she dropped it on the ground at her feet, where it clattered loudly on the paving stone.

  “We yield,” said Thianna.

  “You what?” asked a confused soldier.

  “Are you deaf?” replied the giantess. “We yield. So what are you waiting for? Capture us and take us to your leader, already.
We surrender.”

  “Useless, stupid thing!”

  Are you talking about me or the object in your hands?

  Sirena looked from the horn in her grasp to the old wyvern chained to the marble columns in the corner of the room. Shadows played across the beast’s leathery skin from the single torch set in a sconce on the wall.

  “Take your pick,” she replied. “It’s true for both of you.”

  The wyvern made a coughing noise in its throat. The noise echoed off the stone walls. Sirena’s cheeks burned as she realized it was laughing at her.

  Angrily she pressed the mouthpiece to tight lips and blew a hard but soundless blast. It was gratifying to see the animal wince.

  Careful, he said into her mind. You don’t know what you’ll wake with that.

  “I don’t care if your whole roost wakes up screaming.”

  I wasn’t talking about them. Strong blasts carry far.

  Sirena fell silent. The beast had a point. She knew now that it was just such a forceful, inelegant use of the horn that had alerted them to its presence last year. One day all the wyverns in their cliffside roost had shrieked at once. They had heard the soundless call of the Horn of Osius and knew that a lost thing had returned to the world.

  You would have rather it stayed lost, wouldn’t you?

  “Stay out of my mind,” Sirena said. But the wyvern was right. She hadn’t known it then, but all her present troubles stemmed from the day Thianna blew the horn.

  Such a small thing, such a powerful tool! All Calderan women were mildly telepathic. They could send simple directions to the minds of the wyverns—rise into the air, fly north, fly south, land—but not true communication. Real mind-to-mind contact that ran both ways was only possible for the women of Sirena’s family. And only when they held the horn. Moreover, the horn allowed its wielder to impose her will on the creatures, to compel them to obedience. However, the wyverns were getting old, and the spell laid down by the horn at their birth was stretched very thin. Rebellions would arise. And the new generation would hatch soon. If Sirena couldn’t master the horn by then, she wouldn’t be the only one to topple off the mountain. The Calderan way of life would fall as well. To preserve that, there was little she wouldn’t do.

  Ah, but you were on the path for glory. How high you might have flown!

  “Queen,” Sirena said through tight lips. “I was being groomed to be Land Queen.” Her eyes hardened. “And then that barbarian girl had to go and wreck it all.”

  If only the half giant Thianna hadn’t unwittingly alerted Sirena’s people that the horn had been found after thirteen years. True, this wasn’t the same horn. In convoluted events that hadn’t been made entirely clear to her, another Horn of Osius had been recovered in Gordasha. But Thianna had set these events in motion, turning Sirena’s world upside down. Now the Sky Queen had a horn again. And the Sky Queen needed a horn blower more than the Land Queen needed a successor. Sirena had been brought to this cell yesterday, had spent all that day and all last night practicing to master the magical instrument. She felt as much a prisoner as the creature in front of her.

  Such an interesting position you occupy, the wyvern continued. Niece to both the Land Queen and to the Keras Keeper…

  Keras meant horn in the language of Thica. Keras Keeper was the traditional title for the one chosen to wield the horn. It was meant to be a position of honor.

  When the horn was lost, the scales tipped one way, continued the wyvern. When it was found—

  “Go to the crows, you old lizard,” she swore.

  Sirena blew another angry blast just to watch the animal wince.

  “Enjoy that?” she asked.

  I enjoy your frustration, it replied when it had recovered. Though I warn you again about the danger of such forceful use of the horn.

  “It’s less than you deserve. If you hadn’t fled with Talaria all those years ago, neither of us would be in this dark room right now.”

  She looked at the creature before her. A year before her own birth, it had been found in the far north, riderless and without the horn. They had dragged it back to Thica, chained it to this wall for all the intervening time. Its wings were ragged now, with burn scars and torn holes in the right wing. Its back was bent from years of captivity. Other scars crisscrossed its leathery flesh, some of them more recent.

  “Why did you keep your tongue so long?” Sirena asked. “Why wouldn’t you ever tell them what happened?”

  The crow does not take the eye out of another crow.

  “What does that mean?”

  My kind will be free of you one day soon. The magic of the horn wears off. And you are no closer to understanding it than you were yesterday. You cause pain, but you compel no obedience. The Great Hatching approaches.

  As if Sirena needed the reminder. The Great Hatching was the time when all the wyvern eggs would crack open at once, an entire generation of reptiles born on one day. The horn’s enchanted music, silent to human ears, had to be played then. Its soundless note wove a song in the newborn wyverns’ minds that would last for years. Done correctly at the moment of their emergence into the world, the song would stamp the bonds of servitude on their psyche for decades to come. But only if done correctly.

  If you haven’t mastered it by then—

  “If I haven’t mastered it by then, I’ll come back here with a flame lance and burn your wings off.”

  You would have made a bold Land Queen. Pity such fierceness is wasted on a mere Keras Keeper, mocked the wyvern.

  “What does an animal know?”

  The wyvern swung its head to fix her with a penetrating eye.

  You see me as an animal? A beast? Then you are a fool. Animals don’t converse like we are doing.

  “Some monsters talk.”

  Yes, yes they do. The wyvern looked past her shoulder to the door to the room.

  Sirena turned.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting.” Leta’s smile was cold and snide. Her step was uneven as she entered the room uninvited. Despite her limp, the soldier had been promoted to head of the Keras Guard when she had returned from Gordasha bearing the Horn of Osius.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “The Sky Queen wants an update on your progress.”

  “Tell Xalthea that mastery of the horn is difficult, but that I am working with it.”

  The wyvern made a wheezing noise in its throat. More laughter.

  Leta glanced at it. The scars on her face pulled unflatteringly when she frowned.

  “This is all your fault, disobedient creature. You and Talaria. And then her half-breed daughter.” Leta scowled. “That family was always trouble.”

  From a bad crow, a bad egg. The wyvern chuckled in its throat again. Leta turned to Sirena.

  “It is about eggs that I am here. The Hatching is in five days. If you haven’t mastered the horn by then—”

  “I don’t need your reminder.”

  “Perhaps you do. More than just your position is at stake.”

  Sirena stared at the presumptuous soldier. How dare a mere guard threaten her? It infuriated her. As did the wyvern, laughing despite its captivity.

  “Go to the crows,” she said. “Both of you.”

  —

  “Wake up, Thianna, you’re going to want to see this.”

  The frost giant groaned and tried to roll over, causing their transport to sway perilously. She rubbed at her eyes and hauled herself upright.

  “Watch it!” said Karn. “You’re rocking our cage.”

  “As cages go, this is a nice one,” Desstra observed. “Not that I’m thrilled to be here.”

  The three had been placed in what their captors called a phoreion, a sort of curtained litter that was suspended from ropes and carried by four wyverns. It was ornate and might have been suitable for transporting royalty if it weren’t barred and locked.

  The wyverns had flown for an entire day and throughout the night, carrying Thianna, Desstra, and Karn almost
due west. Although all three of them were intrigued by the sights below—vast forest, ancient ruins, a formidable mountain range—eventually exhaustion had overtaken them and they had nodded off to sleep one by one.

  At some point during their flight, the soldiers had passed them to another patrol. Perhaps they didn’t want to risk an escape by landing. Or perhaps they had another reason to hurry. Whatever the cause, the captives had little to do but watch the land roll by beneath.

  Thica, as it turned out, was huge. As they left the mountains, Thianna caught a glimpse of sweeping plains to the south and the sea to the east.

  “We’ve crossed the whole continent,” she exclaimed.

  “No wonder they want the horn back,” Karn said, ever the strategist. “You couldn’t control so much territory without the wyverns. If they don’t have mastery of the air, they don’t have an empire.” Then he added, “You know, I doubt that any Norrønur has ever traveled this far.”

  “No other Ymirian has, that’s for sure,” said Thianna. “That’s something, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, isn’t travel wonderful?” Desstra observed wryly. “Always something new to see, new places to visit, new foods to eat, interesting new people trying to kill or capture you.”

  “Hasn’t been that long since you were the one trying to kill us, elf,” said Thianna.

  “At least it’s capture this time,” said Karn. “And we’re on the same side.”

  “It’s still early,” said Thianna. “I’m sure someone will be trying to kill us by afternoon.”

  Thianna fell silent as they approached an enormous caldera, a bowl-shaped depression easily a hundred miles in diameter. It was formed by a volcano, which had flooded when one side collapsed and allowed the ocean water to flow in.

  Slightly south of center there was an island, with a steep outcropping of rock that was sheer on one face but sloped on the other sides. A narrow bridge of land stretched from the shore of the caldera to the south side of the island. On the western coast an impressive dock was protected by two stone harbor moles, each with a colossal statue at the ends. A city stretched up the slope of the outcropping, from buildings set so densely they seemed to be piled one atop the other at the docks to magnificent palaces and temples at the island’s summit.