Beekie, she began. Remember Tren? The one with the nice blood. She showed him a mental image of Tren, wincing and rubbing at his recently bitten ear.
Rikbeek remembered. Was that even a giggle from him?
Forget the mechs, she told him. Find Tren, please.
He took off instantly, flapped in a quick circle over her head, then flew off down the corridor and disappeared around the corner. She followed him at a run. She rounded the corner in time to see him dive for the ground. He hovered two or three feet above the ground, turning circles in the air.
Eva frowned. Had he misinterpreted her instructions?
Then she realised, with a frisson of horror, that she had seen him do this before, out in the woods of Orstwych. The same pattern of flight, the same distance above the ground, the same triumphant chitter. That time, it had been Tren’s friend Ed who had lain on the ground, holding his sorcerer’s invisibility enchantment around himself with the last reserves of his strength.
Show me what you’re seeing, Eva said to Rikbeek, her heart pounding.
The mental image came back immediately. Tren lay on the floor near the wall.
Abandoning all caution, she ran to him and dropped to her knees beside him, frantically whispering his name. She didn’t dare touch him; Rikbeek’s image had been unclear regarding his physical state.
‘Eva? That you?’
She could have cried to hear those few simple words. ‘It’s me. There’s no one else here. You can vis yourself.’
His hand found hers, and a moment later he flickered into view.
Almost, she wished he hadn’t.
His coat and shirt were gone, and his waistcoat and shoes. All he wore was his trousers, and those were torn. His face, throat, torso and arms were striped with livid red wounds and abrasions, many of which were sluggishly leaking blood.
Eva struggled with a tide of sick rage, looking at those carefully inflicted wounds. For she had no doubt they had been inflicted with the specific intention of causing maximum pain.
Tren turned his face towards her, struggling to focus on her, and she gasped anew. One of his eyes was swollen shut, the skin around it purpled with bruising. The other was too caked with blood to see much; he used his hands to try to be sure that it was really she.
‘Oh, Tren,’ she whispered, appalled. ‘What have they done to you?’
He gripped her fingers. ‘Just get me out of here. Please.’
Reminded of the urgency of escape, she nodded and paused only to catch Rikbeek, attaching him once more to her coat. Then she took hold of Tren with both hands, and dragged him away through the Map.
After Tren’s last injury, Eva had made sure to find out where the infirmaries were in Limbane’s Library. Now she was thankful she had done so. She took him straight there. This medical centre was busy, as Limbane had said; many Lokants had been hurt during their intervention in the war for Waeverleyne. But the Lokants were professional. Within minutes Tren was laid out on a narrow infirmary bed and two Lokant doctors were working on him.
‘W-wait, please,’ Tren sputtered as one of them bent over him, ready to send his mind into sleep. ‘I need to - to speak to-’
He was looking around for her, Eva realised. She pushed her way back to his bedside and gripped his hand.
‘I’m here. But this can wait, Tren, until you’re better.’
‘It can’t wait,’ he gasped, chest heaving with the effort to draw breath around his obvious pain. ‘Krays is - is different. He - walks like Griel.’
That made her pause. Walks like Griel? Griel moved awkwardly because he had been used as a test subject for one of Krays’s crazy schemes: some of his bones had been replaced with draykon bone matter, in an attempt to amplify his skill at sorcery. It had worked, as far as the sorcery went, but the procedure had left him with a permanent limp.
If Krays looked the same, then that meant...
‘Thank you,’ she said to Tren, dropping a kiss on an unmarked section of his brow. ‘I’ll deal with it. Now be good and heal.’
Tren let out a sigh and relaxed, allowing himself to be put under the Lokants’ sleep. Eva left the infirmary at a rapid pace, thinking.
Krays wouldn’t have used the same methods that he’d used on Griel, of that she felt sure. In Griel’s case, draykon bones had been reworked into a form suitable for the human frame, but the procedure hadn’t been perfect; hence Griel’s limp. They had come to the conclusion that Krays’s urgent search for Llandry, Avane and Ori was to do with their bones: those three were draykon but also human, and that meant they had the draykon powers with a more natural human shape than any Krays had been able to achieve with his projects. If he wanted to work Griel’s procedure on himself, he’d need to get access to someone like Ori in his human shape. The boy’s perfectly human-shaped, draykon-matter bones could be transplanted into Krays’s body, achieving the desired effect without the awkwardness that marred Griel’s procedure.
Now Krays had gone ahead with the operation. If he resembled Griel at present, that might mean he had given up on Ori and employed the earlier method. Or it might merely mean that the operation had been a recent one and he hadn’t yet recovered fully. The latter made sense, because they had seen Krays not long ago and he had displayed no signs of awkwardness.
Had he got at Ori after all? Fear squeezed at her again with that thought. She had thought the boy would be safe from Krays in Waeverleyne, surrounded by the city army and with three other drayks to protect him. But maybe she had been wrong. And if she was, what did that suggest about the other drayks?
Were any of them safe?
Eva hastened back to her room, found the voice-box in the drawer of her desk and activated it. She needed to speak to Llandry, and right away.
Chapter Twenty Six
Another shattering tremor gripped the ground and shook itself out. In the quiet that followed, Llan’s ears picked up a distant sound, a thin rumble that grew more piercing as it grew in volume.
‘What fresh mischief...’ she began, lacking the strength to finish the sentence. Looking at Ori, she saw raw despair in his face.
‘I don’t know, but we can’t survive anything more.’
They waited, huddled together, while the rumbling buzz grew to a roar. Something zipped by overhead.
‘What the...?’ Ori gripped her hand so hard that it hurt, but she didn’t have the heart to berate him.
Another shape flashed past, and a third. They were moving too fast; Llandry couldn’t get a clear idea of what they were. But that buzzing roar sounded very much like engines...
Then the noise began in earnest. It was like the racket her father’s machines had made, only more distant. Whatever those things were, she guessed they weren’t going to land.
‘More constructs,’ she whispered, feeling sick. That’s all it could be. Krays must have sent some new mechanicals to replace the ones they had destroyed.
‘We’re going up,’ Ori said, spreading his wings. She flexed hers, too, ready to spring. Up they went, tracing the upward path of one lone glissenwol tree. When they reached the top, they landed on the broken remains of its cap.
Here they had an almost unimpeded view of the skies. Turning her face up to the heavens, Llan’s dread quickly gave way to wonder.
The new machines looked like giant insects to her eyes. They had long, thin bodies and big wings, with spinning things on the front and at the back. Propellers, that’s what her father called them. Each flying machine was piloted by a helmeted, human figure.
‘They... I think they’re on our side!’ she yelled, bouncing in excitement.
‘Hold up! Can’t be sure of that. Those might be Krays’s people.’
That possibility dampened her enthusiasm immediately. But the flying machines lined up and went for the draykoni in a group, and she realised that the sounds she’d heard were generated by the weapons they bore at the front of each vehicle. Guns! And they were pointed unequivocally at the enemy.
‘
Yes!’ she shrieked, bouncing some more. ‘Irbel’s turned out at last!’
‘Irbel?’ The word emerged as a hoarse croak. ‘How in the Lowers did they make those?’
‘No idea, and I doubt they’ll tell,’ she grinned. ‘But Pa knew, and he said they’d come!’
They watched in silence as the flyers - Llandry counted eighteen of them - sent four draykoni spiralling out of the skies in a matter of minutes. Three more followed, and the rest began an enraged retreat. She and Ori cheered as the flyers forced them further away from the city, claiming another two drayks.
But the rest weren’t finished yet. Their leader, Eterna, shrieked her defiance and whirled about, leading the remainder in a full-on charge on the flyers. The tables were quickly turned: the draykoni, reckless, crashed headlong into the flying machines and three went down, bursting into flame as they hit the trees below.
‘Oh no, Ori...!’ Llan clutched him in her sudden trepidation that the drayks would win after all. The flyers’ guns were impressive but the beasts were much bigger, much heavier, and they didn’t seem to care anymore whether they survived. Two more flying machines went down...
The thirteen remaining flyers broke formation and dropped, speeding away from their pursuers. They had the advantage here, their smaller size and greater manoeuvrability allowing them to escape through the scattered glissenwol trunks. The drayks halted pursuit and climbed back into the skies, waiting.
Llandry waited too, tense and scarcely breathing. This would be it, the deciding confrontation. If the flyers could turn about and come at the remaining drayks fast enough, they might be able to reduce their numbers quickly enough to win the fight. If not...
‘Time to pray, Llan,’ Ori said.
Llandry prayed.
But as the flyers began their final attack, Llan tugged on Ori’s sleeve. ‘Ori! Let’s help.’
Ori looked down at her, a grin spreading across his face. ‘You’re right! Why don’t we?’ He let out a whoop, then sprang into the air, already shifting into his draykon shape. Llandry watched him take off, her stomach fluttering with apprehension and excitement.
Perched atop their damaged glissenwol tree, they were already high up in the air. Llandry stepped to the edge, steeled herself, and fell forward into thin air. Wind rushed past her face and tugged at her clothing as she fell...
... then she had flashed into draykon shape and the wind rushed instead past polished scales the colour of the clouds. Shrieking defiance, she rose into the skies to take her place with Ori, behind the straggling line of flying machines.
Together, they flew at the remaining draykoni.
The guns started up as soon as the flyers were within range. The drayks had grown wise to the way the machines operated, and some of them managed to dive and weave away without being hit. But the pilots were ready for that, too. They manoeuvred their vehicles with amazing skill, keeping at those beasts who tried to evade or run. Two draykoni screamed and fell, then three. Four.
Attack, Llan! Ori yelled in her mind. They think we’re the enemy!
He was right, of course; she should have foreseen that. One of the flyers was trying to angle around to get a shot at her. She dodged, flew over the top of the machine, and hurled herself at the nearest drayk. Her war-cry was full of all the pain and frustration and fear they had inflicted on her people since she and Pensould had woken up Isand.
Her opponent was larger than she, a fine beast with moss-blue scales. She circled around it, making sure that its bulk was between her and the flyers. She didn’t want to be fired upon by her own side. When it whirled to face her, she went for the throat.
Now the brilliance of Iver’s strategy was confirmed, for the drayk was fatally confused to find himself attacked by another draykon. Their non-appearance during the rest of the battle had convinced the enemy that the two draykons they knew about weren’t going to fight - and they hadn’t known about Ori at all. Ruthless, she took advantage of his confusion to sink her powerful teeth into his throat, then tore her jaws free, rending the flesh on the way. The draykon gave a gurgling cry and fell.
Llan! I’m going for Eterna.
Oh no... Eterna? The female draykon was the leader, and among the largest of them. Ori couldn’t hope to prevail by himself.
I’m coming, she told him, casting about for a sight of his white-gold scales. There he was above her, his hide flashing brilliantly in the sun as he tore away in Eterna’s direction. Llandry fought to catch up with him, wishing that for once she didn’t have to be the smallest.
Ori didn’t wait. He climbed high above Eterna while Llandry was still trying to reach him. Then he dropped, talons extended and jaws open, ready to claw and bite.
But Eterna turned as he dived, ready for his attack. Ori crashed headlong into her and the two of them went tumbling through the air, getting dangerously close to the flyers’ guns.
Ori! she shrieked. You idiot, you’re going to get killed!
But... it’s working!
Llandry banked, turned, and soared after the mess of roaring draykon flesh that was Ori-and-Eterna. What’s working? Are you trying to kill yourself?!
Getting her in range of the guns.
He had a point, she realised with a start. Eterna had done better than the rest at avoiding the flyers; she’d maintained a station high above, leaving her followers to take the damage. What that said about her principles didn’t please Llandry, but she put that thought aside. Ori’s instincts were good. If the leader fell, the rest might surrender. But could he pull it off?
Maybe if she helped him, he could.
Llandry adjusted her wings and soared higher again, circling around to come at Eterna from the opposite side to Ori, and from the rear. Once in position, she furled her wings and dropped.
She landed square on Eterna’s back. Here her smaller size was an advantage: she could rest her full weight on the other draykoni, upsetting the perfect balance between weight and lift. Eterna roared and twisted, but Llandry sank her teeth and talons into the other drayk’s hide and hung on, grimly relentless. With the extra weight to carry, Eterna couldn’t maintain her height; and with Ori still hounding her she couldn’t focus on fighting Llandry off. She began to drop, steadily and surely, towards the waiting flyers.
Just a bit more...
A few of the pilots had apparently guessed their plan, for they came at them at top speed. Only a few more seconds and the machines would be in range to shoot. Llandry hung on in spite of her weakening jaws and shredded feet, knowing that if Eterna got loose she would be dead.
And if it took much longer, someone else would notice and come to Eterna’s aid...
The first flying machine opened fire, then two others right behind it. Ori jumped clear, but Llandry wouldn’t release Eterna - not until she was sure of her victory. She gripped still harder as the flyers shot the draykon matriarch full of bullets, praying that none of them would hit her. Only when she judged the fight had gone out of her prey did she release her hold and spread her wings, letting the wind lift her up.
Eterna screamed and dropped away to the ground.
Llandry paused to look around. Only half a dozen draykoni were left, still battling desperately for survival against the machines. But when Eterna’s death-cry reached them they seemed to notice, all at once, how few of their numbers were left.
It didn’t take long after that. The pilots stopped firing and switched to rounding up the survivors, who made little resistance. They soon had the tired and bruised drayks together in a knot, unresisting as they were guided down to the ground.
Ori began cheering and turning loops in the sky, but Llandry couldn’t enter into his enthusiasm. The shattered, burned and ruined state of Waeverleyne made that impossible. Staring with sad disbelief over the remains of her home city, she would have cried if she had been in her human shape.
The war might be over, but nobody had won.
***
‘Ori’s fine,’ Llandry said into the voice-box soon a
fterwards. She and Ori had gone straight to Aysun after the victory of the flying machines, and her father had handed the box to her right away. Lady Eva was trying to reach her, he’d said. He had answered the call, but had had no satisfactory information to give her.
‘Are you sure?’ Eva persisted.
‘Yes, I’m certain of it. I’m looking at him right now.’
‘And the others?’ Eva’s tone was clipped and business-like, but Llandry could hear the strain behind it.
She hesitated. ‘Avane was hurt. The Lokants took her back to the Library infirmary. And Pensould...’
‘Llan? What about Pensould?’
‘He died.’ Llandry related the events that had led to Pense’s demise, keeping her voice steady only by heroic effort. ‘The drayks took him,’ she finished.
‘The drayks? Do they still have him?’
‘I can’t be sure,’ Llandry admitted, her uneasiness growing. ‘You don’t think they might have handed him over to Krays?’
‘It is possible,’ Eva said gravely. ‘But there’s one important question to consider. Was he in human shape when he was... hurt?’
‘No. He reverted to draykon form.’
Eva’s sigh was one of relief. ‘Then I think it highly unlikely that Pensould was used in any such way. Krays has other sources of that kind of draykon bone. It’s the ones in human shape that he needs.’
‘Okay,’ Llandry said, doubtful and still uneasy. ‘We’re trying to get him back, but they’re being obdurate. They don’t take defeat well, that’s for sure.’
‘Consider something else. If Krays didn’t use Ori or Pensould, then he must either have used some other source of ordinary draykon bone, or... or he got hold of another shifter.’
‘But there aren’t any more hereditaries.’
‘Yes, but it isn’t the hereditary status that’s important here. Pensould shifts human, doesn’t he?’
Llandry sucked in a breath, catching on all at once. ‘I see what you mean!’
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