Since Syntyche promised to take them to the Council, he expected them to head for the Government District and the Council Hall, but she turned them north instead, into the Temple District.
Suddenly, a great, dark river appeared on the street before them.
Syntyche stopped short and whirled to face Galenos. “Have your forces flooded the city?”
“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said truthfully, staring just as wide-eyed as she was at the wave rushing down on them.
But when the dark wave came to meet them, they found it wasn’t water, but some kind of plant growing over the ground. Curling tendrils, a green so dark they were almost black in the light of the lanterns, reached up and grasped the boots of the first soldiers in the ranks.
Syntyche cried out and drew her sword, hacking at the plant. But it grew too fast, covering the tip of her blade and holding it fast, and from there it swallowed her arm.
Galenos’s escorts released him as they reached for their own weapons and rushed to defend their warlord.
Galenos nodded to his officers and stepped back out of the enemies’ way, but then he stood very still. “Don’t move,” he warned them. “Stranglevine will only grow tighter if you struggle against it.”
He didn’t have time to worry about how stranglevine had gotten into the city, despite Kyratia’s ancient defenses against the wyld. He looked around for an opportunity to use the confusion to escape.
A flutter of wings drew his gaze upward. Someone was on the roof. Could it be—?
Korinna leaned over the edge. “You have to come up!”
He grunted and strained against the ropes around his wrists, and managed to pull one hand free. He pulled a knife out of the top of his boot, used it to slice off the remaining rope, then cut the ropes on his officers. Together they sprinted for the building.
He ran up the wall, catching the top edge in his hands, and propelled himself upward. Then there was a windowsill, and the rail of a back stair, and a decorative bit of sculpture jutting out from the side of the building. He followed them all up in a trail, just like the branches of a tree, and moments later he was on the roof.
Korinna and the other new riders crouched in the shadows. “We were in the sky when we saw you get captured,” she explained. “We followed you until we saw a chance to free you. But whatever that plant is, it’s growing all over the city. Nowhere is safe.”
Down on the street, the soldiers were still shouting and trying to flight off the stranglevine. City guards came running at the sound, and some of them were carrying bows. Arrows whizzed overhead at the mercenaries on the roof.
Galenos looked around, then pointed across the roofs. “We have to get out of range. Let’s go!”
Together, they ran and jumped over the rooftops until they had left the guards behind.
Korinna was out of breath by the time that he finally allowed her to stop running. She bent forward with her hands on her knees, chest heaving.
He put his fingers between his lips and let out a shrill whistle.
Wings rustled overhead. Sungold, Oakheart, and the other new marewings appeared out of the darkness, landing daintily on the narrow rooftop.
The new riders mounted easily, but the warlord stood back, afraid to approach marewings that didn’t know him.
“Nightshade and the others are still locked up on the tower,” Galenos said sadly. “We have to go back and free them. We’ll run along the roofs and you can cover us.”
But Korinna held out her hand to him. “Sungold will take you. When we release the other marewings, they’ll fly down and find their riders.”
He hesitated, looking at the golden marewing, gleaming with reflected lantern light. She looked back at him steadily without a hint of anger or fear, but he’d never approached a strange marewing so quickly before. There was no way an inexperienced rider like Korinna could control her mount around someone who her marewing didn’t know. “I don’t think this is wise.”
Korinna shook her head and held out her hand again. “I trusted you once, and Sungold will follow my lead. Will you trust me now?”
Galenos lifted his eyes to hers and saw the flash of green in them again. “I will.”
He took her hand, although he didn’t need help mounting the small marewing, and swung up behind her onto Sungold’s back.
The marewing didn’t flinch. She leapt off the edge of the building and took to the air, a little slower to gain altitude with the extra weight, but flew straight up to the tower.
Galenos tightened his grip around Korinna’s waist to keep his balance and leaned forward to her ear. “After we get my flights from the top of the tower, we need to go check on the other guns. I suspect Varranor and the others have been captured as well.”
She nodded. “We’ll get everyone and then we’ll go after the Council. They’re hiding in the Temple of Varula.”
He should be questioning her, demanding why she was in Kyratia in the first place, when he’d deliberately left her behind at the fort to stay out of harm’s way. But all he could feel was relief. “Thank you,” he murmured.
44
Ameyron VI
In the cluttered office of his home, Ameyron bent over his instruments and frowned at the powdered samples of several different crystalbell bugs.
“These readings just don’t make any sense,” he complained, rubbing his forehead in exhaustion. “You told me that the bugs need isopherenite to reproduce, and these specimens that we captured from the Votsis mansion are consistent with that theory. Not surprising, after you found that strange statue in the garden that tested positive for trace amounts of the mineral. The sculptor must have used stone from Petros Mountain, since you claim that’s the only source of the mineral.”
He held up another sample dish. “But these other bugs we took from the Temple District don’t match that at all.” He pointed to his pages of notes, scattered on the table. “I’ve double-and triple-checked the results, but there aren’t any traces of isopherenite in them. They must have found some other nutrient that allows them to reproduce. It’s the only explanation I can think of.”
Omalia looked up from the other side of the table and shook her head. “That goes against years of research. If my own tests didn’t show the exact same thing time and again, I would not believe you. I can barely trust my own eyes in this.”
He stood up and paced to the window, throwing it open to get some fresh air in the stuffy room. “There must be some other factor that we haven’t accounted for, an independent influence on their behavior. What’s most strange is that it’s happening inside Kyratia. The magestone foundation of the entire city is supposed to inhibit the spread of wyld magic, and yet these monsters are not only surviving, but flourishing. How have they gained such a foothold in a hostile environment?”
The other mage sighed and buried her face in her hands. “The forces of the wyld work in strange ways, often varying from one region to another. If there were a singular principle I could define it by, holding true in every corner of Seirenia, it would be that the wyld seems to have an almost conscious ability to adapt to circumstances—changing to suit its surroundings.” She sat up with a start. “Could it be that the insects have actually evolved to feed off the magestone itself?”
“I tested them for that possibility myself,” he said bitterly. Ameyron had already come to that grim conclusion, but his fears had been unfounded, for the insects held no traces of man-made magic such as magestone. “If anything, perhaps they survive because they are airborne, and avoid contact with the ground.”
“Yet the humans who are infected are walking on that same ground. Surely the magestone’s influence is powerful enough to protect the people who live on it.”
Both of the mages fell silent at the reminder of the insects’ numerous victims. Government officials were still trying to cover up the spread of the disease, making an accurate tally of deaths impossible for them to gain, but they estimated that tens if not hundreds of peo
ple had succumbed to choreomania. Although Omalia had brought a large amount of mineral salts from Petropouli, they couldn’t get near enough to most of the sick to cure them. The loss of life weighed heavily on their hearts.
Then a sound outside interrupted them. Ameyron, standing by the open window, heard it first: a rustling sound, like wind through the leaves, but rushing too fast—and he could feel no breeze.
He tilted his head to one side. “What is that noise?”
Beside Omalia’s work, the purple matriarch of the dragonling flock lifted her head and hissed a warning.
Together, the mages rushed to the front door. Omalia reached it first and flung it open, then stepped back with a cry.
Stranglevine spread across the street, growing rapidly across the ground as if it were seeking something. When it reached the intersection at the end, the vines suddenly grew upwards, capturing the city guards on patrol and holding them fast even as they drew their weapons and tried to fight back.
Ameyron’s eyes widened. He started to rush out to help them, but Omalia caught him by the robe and dragged him back.
“Don’t,” she said in a warning tone. “If you fight the stranglevine, it’ll grab you, too. If they stop struggling and surrender to the vine, they’ll live, at least for a little while.”
He looked down at the green leaves, blanketing the ground like a dark green river, and shuddered. “But where did it come from? wyld magic can’t get inside the city—”
“Unless someone brought it in deliberately.” She turned and looked the other way up the street. “We could follow it and see where it came from. Perhaps some mage has had an experiment blow up in his face.”
Ameyron laughed nervously, thinking of a few past mistakes in his own research. “But using wyld magic is blasphemy. The Temple of Deyos has forbidden it.”
Her eyes met his. “Deyos doesn’t rule here anymore.”
And then Ameyron knew where the vines must have come from. Months ago, he’d been at the New Year’s Festival with the rest of the crowds, and saw the priest of Varula boasting that he could harness the power of the wyld for himself. The stunt with the ogre had been a trick, meant to dazzle the public, but what if there was more behind it?
He turned and grabbed the first magical tools that came to his hands, stuffing them in his pockets. He didn’t know what they would need to fight back against the wyld, or if he should be seeking out a Deyonist priest for aid, but he had to try something. “The Temple of Varula,” he muttered in his frenzy. “We have to go there.”
Omalia called up her dragonlings and grabbed tools of her own, including a large pouch of the mineral salts. “We’ll try anything we can. It’s growing so fast, there’s only a few hours before it takes over the whole city.”
Weighed down with instruments, but with a strength born of desperation, the mages ran out over the carpet of deadly vines toward the Temple District.
45
Korinna XIV
Korinna and the others managed to release Nightshade and the other marewings from the top of the tower, then flew to the other towers. They found that the stranglevine had already spread up the walls, holding the city guards and the Mauve Dragon mercenaries fast; the captured marewing riders were untouched by the vine, saved by their own bonds, which prevented them from fighting back. Soon all of the flights were reunited at full fighting strength, but they dared not land anywhere in the city, for fear of encountering the vicious plant again.
Galenos signaled for all of them to fly toward the Temple District to confront the Council. Korinna feared that he would order her to leave the city and keep out of danger, but he arranged places for all of the new riders in the formations, placing Korinna on his left side and Varranor to his right.
“We’re all in this together now,” he said with a grim smile. “Everyone, keep your eyes on the city and watch out for enemy combatants. Who knows if that vine has trapped all of the soldiers, or—” He gave a shake of his head. “Or what other monsters may lurk down there.”
But they flew unchallenged over the city. The only sign of the soldiers were vine-covered bulges along the streets. The rest of the people stayed inside their houses, too frightened to venture outside. Until they came to the Government District at the heart of the city.
At the central square of the Government District, before the Council Hall, the area was suddenly clogged with people dancing, ignoring the vines growing under their feet. They swayed and spun with wild abandon across the open area, some of them even climbing into the fountains and flower-beds in their frenzy. Musicians played there as well, but many of the dancers seemed heedless of the music.
Galenos stopped Nightshade and signaled for the rest of the marewings to halt, hovering in midair. He looked over the throng of dancers and frowned.
Korinna looked over at him. “What’s wrong?”
He stared at the dancers as if they meant his defeat. “It’s even worse than I expected.”
“Could this be some kind of welcoming celebration?”
He glanced at her and gestured down. “Do they look happy to you?”
She saw where he pointed. An old woman near them danced with jerks and bumps, wearing heavy ceremonial robes that hindered her movements. When she tripped over the hem and fell to the ground, no one stopped to help her, and a heavyset man stepped on her hand. Despite the other dancers, she managed to struggle back to her feet and continue, but Korinna feared what might happen to her if she fell again.
“It isn’t safe at all!” She scanned the square and saw more people stumbling, bumping into one another, tripping over the vines, and falling. Some bore bruises on their body, and a few had shallow cuts. Before long, it would get worse. Yet something seemed to compel them to keep moving. “Why are they doing this?”
“Choreomania,” Galenos muttered. “It’s a dancing sickness, and it spread in the city while we were gone. If they are not stopped, they will dance themselves to death.” He looked her straight in the eye, and she saw the shadows of things left unspoken. “It’s the same ailment that killed your father.”
She sat back hard in the saddle, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her. “My father?” she managed to gasp out.
He turned his face away from her shock. “I have a lot to tell you later. No time to explain now. The sooner we take the city, the sooner the mage can come here and fix things.”
Korinna continued to stare, speechless. Her father, dancing himself to death? How was such a thing even possible?
“Warlord Galenos!”
They looked over at the steps of the Temple of Deyos and saw a man and a woman in mage’s robes, jumping and waving their arms to get their attention. Korinna thought the man looked a little familiar, but she couldn’t place where she’d seen his face before.
Galenos flew Nightshade a little closer. “Mage Ameyron,” he said with a nod of his head to the man, and then the woman, “Mage Omalia. What are you doing here?”
Ameyron gestured to their feet, where the temple steps were clear of vines. “We’ve managed to hold them back from this spot. A few of you can land here. You must come with us to the other Temple—”
He turned and pointed. The Temple of Varula was completely blanketed in vines, and more spilled out of the windows. But the door stood open.
At Galenos’s signal, Korinna and Varranor landed their marewings beside Nightshade on the steps. He gestured for the rest of the riders to watch the rest of the city, and they flew off in different directions.
Ameyron gave the marewings a wary glance, but he went to the edge of the steps and beckoned for the others to follow him. “We can walk through the vines if we’re careful, but don’t draw your weapons. They respond to any aggressive movements. Don’t even raise your voice.”
Following the mage’s instructions, the five of them made their way across the courtyard.
They were almost to the door of the temple when a roar echoed through the courtyard. All of them turned and saw an o
gre bearing down on them, wading through the vines. As the vines reached up and tried to ensnare him, he ripped free of them, grabbing them in huge handfuls and tearing them down. Rubble fell from buildings and chunks of cobblestones came up, still attached to the stranglevine, so he left a swath of destruction behind him.
Galenos dropped into a fighting stance, preparing to meet the creature, but Varranor held up his hand to stop him.
“I’ll take care of this,” he said, gripping his sword. “You go inside and find the Council.”
Omalia took up position beside him, her hands moving to weave a spell. “I’ll help.”
Varranor cocked an eyebrow at her. “Have you ever fought an ogre before?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “No, but there’s a first time for everything.”
Galenos hesitated for a moment, looking between his brother and the enormous ogre. “Are you certain you can handle it?”
“Trust me. Just go!”
The ogre threw a handful of vines and stone at them. It struck the temple wall above their heads, shattering and raining debris down on them.
Galenos grabbed Korinna’s hand and yanked her inside, and Ameyron scurried to follow.
Korinna had never been inside the Temple of Varula before. Like other temples, there was a foyer in the front for worshipers to remove their shoes, and then a grand entrance into the main sanctuary. But unlike the opulent sanctuary of other temples, decorated with elaborate carvings and stained glass windows, this temple was built like a grove in the forest, with the ceiling open to the sky. Underneath the vines, she recognized the shape of trees around the edges, and wondered at the kind of rituals that would take place there.
A Flight of Marewings Page 34