Nox had fallen asleep. Max felt his own weariness settling in and asked if it would be all right if he stayed here and slept on the Warming Lodge porch. YaYa lay down so he could settle comfortably against her. Max did so with a feeling of quiet contentment. This could well be his last night on earth. What better way to spend it than under the stars with these two?
“I know what Nolan was,” he said drowsily.
“I thought you might,” she replied softly. “Även was a great believer in you, Max McDaniels. I am, too.”
It was shortly after three in the morning when Max awoke and slid his legs out from beneath Nox. He’d gotten almost five hours of sleep, which was more than he’d managed in weeks. Slipping inside the Warming Lodge, he found YaYa’s saddle—an immense assemblage of leather, wood, and horn—and dragged it out onto the porch where she had arisen. Stepping over Nox, the ki-rin stood still so Max could position the saddle behind her withers before cinching the straps and adjusting the stirrups.
Nox stirred, spreading her claws as she yawned and rolled onto her back, scratching her quills against the planks. A golden eye cracked open, accompanied by an inquisitive mewl that reminded Max sharply of her daddy. He crouched over her, rubbing the lymrill’s warm belly as she hooked a forepaw into his jerkin.
“I have to go, Nox. You stay here and sleep.”
If Max thought these words would have any sort of effect, he was sadly mistaken. Nox had no intention of misplacing her steward again. Unhooking her claw, she rolled nimbly onto her feet and scored ten deep lines in the wood as she stretched.
Max didn’t put up a fight. He wanted to spend as much time with Nox as possible, and there was no harm in letting her accompany them to Túr an Ghrian. Besides, she would simply ignore any command to stay put.
Climbing into YaYa’s saddle was no trivial feat. The ki-rin stood eight feet at the shoulder and was far larger than any destrier. Jumping up, Max grabbed the pommel and swung his body over the leather seat. He strained his stitches but fortunately his wound had numbed considerably from his time spent with Ember. Leaning over, he grabbed the gae bolga from against the railing, and the three made for the Sanctuary tunnel.
Beyond the tunnel, it was snowing dry little flakes that coated the campus with a fine white powder. Other than the guard stations and sentries, all of Old College seemed to be sleeping. All but Túr an Ghrian, whose pinnacle blazed like a beacon against the dark red sky.
Nox would not be left behind when Max dismounted to lead YaYa within the tower. And she mewled ferociously when the scholar suggested she might remain in the entry chamber. Instead, she scrabbled in after YaYa as the ki-rin ducked and squeezed her way onto the levitating platform. Sitting back on her haunches, the lymrill nipped Max’s hand and fluttered her tail excitedly. Max hoped there was food up top; that was the only thing that could possibly placate her once she learned she would not be joining the mission.
Fortunately, there was food in the summoning chamber—scrambled eggs and bacon, a pot of coffee, toast, and strawberry jam. Given the endless winter, this was a veritable feast.
“A last supper, I see,” said Max, nodding hello to David, Mina, and Cynthia, who had already dressed and were seated around a table.
“Just breakfast,” said David. He was peering closely at one of four rings that lay upon a jeweler’s cloth. “A typical breakfast on a typical day,” he added dryly. “I left you some coffee. Cynthia can’t believe it.”
Cynthia glanced up, offered an obligatory smile, and resumed staring at her untouched toast. Max had seen that face many times before, a detached, almost sickly expression so common among soldiers before their first battle. This was not Cynthia’s first battle, of course—she’d served with distinction as a Mystic in Max’s battalion—but Astaroth was a far cry from Stygian crows and ogres.
“You should eat something,” said David.
Max nodded, heaping some eggs and bacon on a plate. Not too much, just enough for a foundation. He skipped the coffee entirely. Having greeted YaYa and Nox, Mina returned to the table and plucked up a silver circlet.
“What is that?” asked Max.
“It’s for YaYa,” she replied. Walking to the ki-rin, she asked YaYa to lie down so Mina could slide the circlet over her broken horn. Squinting, Mina resized the metal circlet as easily as one might cinch a knot. “I’m sorry, YaYa, but you’ll stand out against the snow and we don’t want you seen. This should help.”
As she fit the circlet snugly on the base of YaYa’s horn, the shaggy black ki-rin turned pale ivory. Everything, including her nose, tongue, gums, and even the saddle, was a shade of white. Against a backdrop of snow, YaYa would be virtually invisible to the naked eye. Her aura would not be, but if all went well, Astaroth’s attention would be elsewhere.
“Do I get one of those?” asked Max.
David shook his head. “We want as little magic on you as possible. You’ll have to do with conventional camouflage.” He pointed to a table where there was an assortment of white winter clothes, boots, and furs in Max’s size. There was even a white covering for the gae bolga.
“However,” said David, plucking up one of the four rings, “you do get one of these. It will keep you warm and help you breathe near Ymir’s summit. Don’t lose it.”
Max took the ring and grabbed an armful of the white garments to change behind one of the Orkney stones. Nox came along and proceeded to chew on his boot as he checked his bandages. There were two small spots of blood, but nothing that caused immediate alarm. Once he’d pulled on his mail shirt, he slipped into a white jerkin, a hooded fur coat, and insulated breeches, gloves, and boots. There was also a white woolen head covering with openings for his eyes and mouth, but he would put that on just before they left.
When he stepped out, he found David, Cynthia, and Mina donning outer clothes of oiled hides and sealskin. Unlike Max and YaYa, they would not be camouflaged. In any case, he imagined Ember would be a conspicuous sight charging up the mountainside. It was hard to hide a dragon.
Mina was busy at the scrying pool. She perched upon its rim and peered into its depths, plucking lightly at the air with her fingers as though trying to catch invisible threads. As it had when she’d contacted Yuga, the pool began to glow with a golden luminance. A picture was forming within its center, a rippling image of three wooden shrines ringed by stone idols on an icy promontory. Flags whipped in violent gusts. Far below the promontory, Max could see a hamlet half shrouded by blowing snow. The ledge looked like it might be a base camp on the pilgrim’s trail to Ymir.
“Is Astaroth at the summit?” asked Max.
David nodded. “I’ve been in contact with the Umadahm. Astaroth ascended the mountain late last night. The dragon is with him and nearly melted the entrance to the ossuaries. The witches are trapped inside, but that’s not a bad thing at the moment. They’re waiting things out in the deeper vaults.”
“It’s ready,” said Mina, climbing down from the scrying pool.
David put on his ring. “Final check. Is everyone clear on what they need to do? Any questions?”
There were none.
“Just do your jobs,” David continued. “Max, you have everything you need?”
Max pointed to a canvas backpack holding crampons, rope, a flare, and a pair of ice axes.
“And, Mina, you have …?”
The girl produced the green stone from the pocket of her parka.
“All right,” said David, downing the last of the coffee. “This is it. We have a long way to the summit. No use wasting your energy before we get there. Max, wait fifteen minutes before following us.”
Max went around to give each of them a fierce embrace. “I’ll see you at the top,” he said to Cynthia. “You’ll do great. Sol Invictus.”
“Sol Invictus,” she murmured, pecking him on the cheek.
Ember eased up from his bed of coals, steam rising off his scales. Max saw that a special saddle had been fitted to his back with rings and leg straps to
accommodate up to eight riders. Mina climbed into the first position, followed by Cynthia, and then David. They looked tiny—mere mice astride a python. As the dragon circled the chamber, smoke began pouring from his mouth as though fires were kindling within him. Sliding sinuously forward, he reared up and dove into the swirling scrying pool.
There was no splash, not even a spilled drop of water as Ember disappeared with a final lash of his whiplike tail. Rushing to the pool’s edge, Max spied the wingless dragon rippling like a golden streamer as he flew toward the icy promontory. The moment he landed, Ember snaked around the shrines and began a swift sidewinding ascent up the mountain. Seconds later, Max’s friends vanished from view.
With a puzzled whine, Nox jumped onto the pool’s rim and peered into the portal like a bear waiting for a salmon to leap. Max barked at her to get down. She did, albeit reluctantly, waddling away to nose about by the breakfast table.
Max went to YaYa and stroked her ruff. “You know what to do?”
The ki-rin nodded.
Satisfied, Max double-checked his equipment and shrank the gae bolga’s spear shaft so that the weapon resembled a long-handled short sword. Buckling it to his side, he put on his ring and pulled on his gloves before ringing a silver chime.
Seconds later, a blue-robed domovoi arrived from Mina’s chambers below. He bowed.
“Please take Nox back down,” said Max. “Once she’s outside, she’ll find her way back to the Sanctuary.”
With an anxious glance at the lymrill, the domovoi said he’d return with a few extra hands. As he departed, Max came to kneel by her. Once again, the animal peered into his face with an expression that said she knew he was leaving. Once again, she hooked a claw into his clothes, this time piercing his sleeve.
Max stroked her whiskered jowls. “I’m sorry, Nox. I don’t know what else to say. I have to go. But if I come back, we won’t ever be parted again. That’s a promise.”
With a surly mewl, the lymrill unhooked her claw to waddle off and investigate the remaining bacon. Max checked the hourglass David had left by a leather folio with documents intended for Miss Awolowo in case Rowan survived but he did not. Almost fifteen minutes had elapsed. He’d give it another two or three before they followed Ember. Much of David’s plan relied on misdirection and disguise. He wanted Astaroth’s attention far away from the portal when Max and YaYa bolted through it.
Reaching up, Max swung into the saddle again. He glimpsed his and YaYa’s reflections in the nearest window—a white rider on a white ki-rin. On a snowy mountain, they would be very difficult to see.
Four domovoi came up the steps bearing bacon, cheese, and a silver spoon that should have brought Nox running. But the lymrill merely flicked her ears and ignored them. When they tried to corral her, she slipped easily out of reach. Max glanced at the hourglass. The portal would close in less than two minutes. He did not have time to dismount and collar Nox. She’d go willingly once he had gone. Pulling down his mask, Max nudged YaYa forward.
The powerful ki-rin lurched into motion, trotting around the summoning chamber in a rocking gait that would smooth out at full gallop. The domovoi backed away, but Nox mewled in an unmistakable cheer as YaYa rounded an Orkney stone and accelerated toward the scrying pool. With a bounding leap, the ki-rin dove through the portal and into the blizzards of Ymir.
Max held on tightly as YaYa galloped on the air, curving down toward the promontory. She was descending rapidly, with sudden plunges that seemed as though the mountain were pulling her down, grounding flight of any kind. Still, YaYa managed to land with no more than a mild jolt. Rounding the promontory, she gathered speed for a leap up to a ledge.
Max was scanning the mountain for a sign of Ember when he saw something dark plummet from the sky. Steering YaYa hard to the right, Max turned about just in time to see Nox land like a meteor in a snowdrift.
His heart froze. The lymrill must have dived right after them, plunging some three or four hundred feet. She must have broken every bone in her body. The drift wasn’t that deep—the ledge was too windy. She—
What she did was burrow out of the drift, give an irritated grunt, and shake the snow from her coat as a dog might dry itself. Nox didn’t even limp but hurried toward an astonished Max and YaYa as though this was all part of the fun.
Max glared down at her. “Stay here!”
But as soon as YaYa began trotting along the ledge, the lymrill followed, bounding next to them like a hound alongside a horseman. Max cursed at her. Not only was Nox putting herself in danger, but she was also putting the entire mission at risk. A great deal depended on Max and YaYa not being seen. Their camouflage was pointless if a jet-black lymrill was climbing the mountain with them. Max felt like an idiot for letting her come up into Túr an Ghrian. Of course she’d leap through the portal!
Spurring YaYa forward, he bent low and held tight as she traced the cliff face, rounding the mountain and leaping up onto another ledge some twenty feet above. Such a feat was well beyond Nox’s capabilities. Glancing back, Max saw the lymrill stop, her indignant mewl lost in the howling wind.
Crouching low, Max held on to YaYa as she continued racing sideways, putting considerable distance between themselves and Ember. While Ymir required its visitors to ascend on foot, this did not deter YaYa. The ki-rin’s muscles worked like a machine, strong and steady, never flagging as she navigated the steep terrain with ease. Despite her prodigious weight, her great paws barely left a print.
With a deep chuff, YaYa leaped fifty feet to a ledge that would shield them from the sun, whose rays would create conspicuous shadows on the snow. The dragon might not be Astaroth’s only sentry on the mountain. At the very least, Mr. Sikes might be keeping a lookout while his master made whatever preparations were necessary before Imbolc. Clinging to YaYa, Max tried to glimpse the summit, but it was completely obscured by a wreath of clouds. As high as the ossuaries were, Ymir’s peak was still a good ways beyond.
A jolt of pain lanced through his side.
YaYa had made another great leap to a shelf of exposed rock. Her landing was soft, but Max had to catch himself as the momentum pitched him forward. The sudden movement tore some stitches. Cursing silently, he hung on tightly as YaYa began a steep, zigzagging climb.
Aside from hanging on, Max’s main objective throughout the ascent was to conserve as much energy as possible. He tried to relax, to trust in YaYa’s strength, and let her do the work. David had estimated the climb would take eight or nine hours. Given this, Max let himself slip into a meditative state, a trick Scathach had taught him during his time at Rodrubân. There was only this moment, this second, this heartbeat. Past and future were mere concepts; there was no sense expending any thought or energy on them. All that existed was this moment … this second … this heartbeat.…
Twilight had settled when Max heard the dragon.
It came from high above, an earth-shaking roar that echoed across the Witchpeaks.
YaYa leaped aside as an avalanche hurtled down the chute they were climbing. Landing on a ledge, she nearly lost her footing as the mountain shook from some other impact. He heard a distant scream. Was that Cynthia? An instant later, there was another roar—different timbre, but no less furious.
From the ridge above them, there were fierce snarls and growls as though wild animals were tearing each other apart. Light flashed in the darkening sky, a pluming burst of yellow-green fire. The mountain shook. More trees were snapping. The sounds of conflict grew louder. Chuffing suddenly, YaYa leaped to a ledge beneath an outcropping just as Ember came tumbling over the side.
The dragon writhed like a serpent as he fell, fire and smoke billowing from his snapping jaws. Max’s heart skipped a beat. Ember was tumbling too quickly; he couldn’t see if David, Mina, or Cynthia were still on his back. If they were …
Max ducked as a shadow fell over them. Something huge landed on the outcropping above them, triggering a hail of stone and rocks. More stone cracked as a black dragon leaped off
in pursuit. It passed right over them; a grotesque creature of appalling size. Its wings flapped heavily as it took flight, creating violent updrafts, before it dove and banked toward the ledge where Ember had landed.
Whereas Ember was sleek, this dragon was a tank. There was nothing elegant about its shape or symmetrical about its wings and goatish head. Its flight was ungainly, but also powerful. More yellow-green fire crackled from its open mouth, dancing around fangs six feet long. Ember was trying to recover from his fall but was struggling to right himself on the cracked and crumbling shelf. Mina’s dragon was clearly injured and utterly exposed.
From above, lightning flashed, a brilliant bolt that forked before striking both of the black dragon’s wings. It gave an earsplitting roar as the leathery membranes tore and burned. Careening wildly, the dragon crashed against the mountainside beneath Ember’s ledge. Ember seized the opportunity and scrambled over the side to attack his opponent in a frenzy of flying snow and sputtering green flames. Another roar was cut short as Ember’s jaws closed on the black dragon’s throat. Desperate to break free, the black dragon heaved itself back in a shower of blood. Wheeling, it made an awkward, lunging dive down to a ridge several hundred feet below. Ember snaked after in determined pursuit, his body wreathed in a nimbus of flickering red flames.
Tearing his attention from the dueling dragons, Max tried to locate the source of the lightning. He assumed it was David—Cynthia wasn’t nearly powerful enough to unleash such a bolt, and Mina did not practice destructive magic. If David or the others were up there, they would need help reaching the summit.
Just do your job.
David had emphasized this point several times during their discussions of the plan. No one was to deviate from the plan at this stage—not for any reason. David’s strategy had two separate initiatives. While they would be most effective if they worked in tandem, they could also succeed independent of one another. This all went out the window, however, if people started improvising.
The Red Winter Page 59