"Wait," she said, detecting something entirely different.
"What is it?" Linlett waited with bated breath, hoping it was what they had been searching for.
A slow smile spread across Eohne's face as she registered whose vibration it was she was feeling. "It's Blue."
"Who is Blue?"
"He's Jordan's dragon."
"A dragon?" Linlett was so startled he took his hands down and looked over his shoulder at Eohne. "Dragons aren't allowed in Rodania!"
She lifted the blindfold and looked up at him. "This one was, because they thought he was a Predoian Miniature."
"They thought he was?" Linlett's brow arched. "What was he actually?"
"Not a miniature," laughed Eohne. "We thought for a while he was going to get kicked out, but then the harpies attacked, and Blue and his mate saved the country."
Linlett turned around fully to face her, amazed. "Another dragon got in?"
"Yes, thank goodness."
"Where is she now? I haven't seen any dragons flying around."
"Toth has taken her and Blue to Golpa, to kill the harpies where they nest."
Linlett frowned thoughtfully.
"You didn't know how we survived the harpy attack?" Eohne asked. "No one told you that it was two dragons who saved us?"
He shook his head. "Seems a glaring oversight on someone's part." He rubbed his palm over his mouth. "We've been at this for days now; we've touched tens of thousands of filaments, wouldn't you agree?"
Eohne nodded, and she knew where he was going with this line of thinking. She'd been thinking it herself.
"You've found one of only two dragon filaments in the barrier. But how many harpies did you say attacked in the last big onslaught?"
"In the high hundreds," said Eohne. "Possibly as many as a thousand."
"So why haven't we located any harpy filaments yet? It's against the odds."
"We haven't located Red's filament either," Eohne pointed out.
"Red?" It took Linlett a second. "The other dragon? You call her Red?"
Eohne nodded.
" ‘Red’ and ‘Blue’. Really?"
She nodded again, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Sol named them. The man never claimed to have much imagination."
"I'll say. Poor names aside, we might not run into Red's filament. She was never inducted legally, right?"
"No. But she passed through the barrier, so shouldn't that mean she has a filament? Otherwise, why are we spending all this time looking for harpy filaments?"
"Because of the sabotage," Linlett explained. "Passing through the barrier illegally, if that were even possible, wouldn't magically result in a filament. Only going through the proper channels—–submitting blood and so on—–would create a filament that would then become a permanent part of the barrier, allowing its root being through as many times as he or she likes."
"Someone would have to have legally inducted every single harpy, if what you’re saying is true. That seems near impossible."
Linlett nodded. "Seems like it, yes. Nevertheless, it’s what I suspect happened. So I'm just wondering why we haven't run across any yet." He turned his back to Eohne and raised his hands again, his fingers lighting up. "We're bound to very shortly. It's mathematically certain."
Eohne pulled down her blindfold and rested her hands once again on his torso as they resumed their task.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Strix squadron of eighty-three Nychts and a baker's dozen of Arpaks flew over the forest of dreesha, a monstrous narrow-leafed species of tree that towered above a secondary canopy of smaller trees. The long, thin dreesha leaves allowed narrow slices of sunshine in geometric shapes to penetrate and feed the forest below.
The force passed not far from where Sol had been pursued by two harpies before crashing through a portal and meeting Jordan.
He couldn't help the smile that touched his lips at the memory of that fateful day.
How much had changed since then, not just in his life but in his country and with his people? No longer was he a courier for the aristocracy—–now he was a soldier, following a Nycht leader, no less. He never would have believed it possible.
His eyes found the back of the bat-winged man they had all sworn to follow on this mission, possibly to their deaths.
The heavy sound of huge swaths of air being pushed aside by enormous wings drew his gaze from Toth's back to the shadow passing overhead. The yellow belly-scales of Blue passed through the cloud cover, just visible through the wisps of condensation.
Red and Blue made their presence known once a day. They rarely passed so close; most often, they were serpentine shapes on the horizon. An echoing roar would bounce off the landscape, reassuring the party of soldiers, and then the creatures would disappear until the next day.
A dragon couldn’t be bent to someone else’s will; they were either in, or they weren't. The Strix just trusted that the dragons would be there when they were needed. Without them, the mission was doomed.
Harpies they met on the way were swiftly cut down, if not by the dragons then by the Strix warriors. The demon-birds were met in singles and doubles, occasionally in threes, and the frequency with which they were seen increased as Golpa neared and the temperatures dropped.
The Strix kept a steady pace, set by Teetch, Toth's quiet brother. As the light changed and the shadows became long, he would break out ahead with three companions, scouting out a suitable camp for the night. When it was time to rest and refuel, he'd arrow downward, heading for a sheltered break in the landscape that could accommodate them. They'd descend, set up a collection of tents, and stoke a dozen fires or more—–enough to provide a hot meal and warm their bones before sleep took them.
When they camped, six Strix always remained awake, keeping watch over the rest… though predators were few. Even if there had been gypsies or slave-traders around, they wouldn't dare tangle with a group of winged soldiers armed to the teeth.
Arpaks took the first shift, watching until the moon rose high in the sky. They'd switch with the Nychts just past midnight, and they’d watch the camp until the morning sun became a suggestion in the sky. The group would then break camp and be off before the sun had hoisted itself fully past the horizon.
After three days of flying this way, the landscape changed drastically. Rolling, barren foothills crusted with broken rocks and scrawny, twisted trees passed by below, and majestic mountains loomed where the sky met land. Towns became villages, which became nomadic camps populated by tents made of animal skins. Herds of the lumbering, multi-tusked feroth became more frequent. Lifting their heads and giving their deep, bellowing cries as the shadows of the Strix passed over them.
The winds grew strong and bitter. The Strix pulled out their cold-weather gear: rough-spun scarves and hats, fingerless gloves with little caps that folded over their fingertips, thick boiled leather or oiled canvas jackets lined with fur and woolen insoles for their boots.
Their breath hung in clouds as they sat talking around their fires at night. Chayla wrapped her neck and head in a thick black cowl, leaving only her glittering green eyes visible, staring out with flinty resolve. She was never happier than when she was on a mission to kill an enemy; her anticipation oozed with a seething militant patience.
They passed over the rocky foothills and into the rugged mountain territory. The deep gorge of The Conca lay fifty miles west of them, drawing closer slowly, bit by bit, as they kept a trajectory for its northern end, where the gorge became huge yawning caves.
Teetch and the scouts led them into a narrow valley to set up camp for the night. Word passed quickly from mouth to mouth: tomorrow they would reach Golpa. Tension in the camp mounted as they worked to erect their shelters, heat their rations and get them into their bellies. Hats were pulled low over their ears in the sharp chill of evening. Icy shadows soon swallowed them as the last light of the sun vanished, and the glow of the fires threw a cowl of heat over their faces and bodies. Weapons w
ere sharpened, and conversations were low and guttural. Unlabelled bottles were passed around, the belly-burning liquids inside offering a different kind of warmth.
Sol put away his razor-sharp dirks and blew warm air over his frozen fingertips, watching how his breath formed a jetstream. He'd never experienced such a cold and hostile environment as this before. Rodania was hospitable and temperate, never requiring more than a vest and leather leggings to keep warm. He scratched at his forehead where the skin itched under his cap. He didn't like wearing a hat. After a few hours, what once felt like a soft hug around the temples became a vise which he yearned to remove. But removing it left him vulnerable to stabbing headaches from the freezing winds. It was better to suffer with the hat on.
How he ached to be at home curled up with Jordan in their bed, their feathers making a cocoon around them. The sooner they got this job done, the sooner he could go home. If he could help it, he'd never travel this far north ever again.
He spied the tall, straight shape of Toth as he passed by the fire, heading for where Teetch sat with a map laid open on his lap. Sol watched as the Nycht mercenary stepped over a large log and sat down beside his brother, accepting a plate of food from Chayla as he did so. Toth was always the last one to eat, never taking in a morsel until he knew all the rest of them had had their portions.
Sol got up and went to join them, stepping over the same log and sitting on Toth's other side.
Toth glanced up, his cheek bulging with bread and cheese. He gave Sol a nod and shifted closer to Teetch to give more room.
"Didn't see Red today," Sol said, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and hunkering against a breeze that kicked smoke into their eyes.
"She's around," Toth spoke around his food, swallowed, and tore off another huge bite from the chunk of hard cheese Chayla had given him. "She and Blue made a big kill yesterday."
"That feroth herd we passed, after the lake with the wrecked ship on the shoreline?"
Toth nodded. "They're always slow after." Toth's chewing became labored, and he glanced down at the rind of cheese in his hand, frowning. He swallowed, with some difficulty it seemed. "Like eating a shoe," he muttered. "Hand me that water, would you Teetch?"
Teetch passed him a bottle, and Toth took several long swallows before coughing explosively. He looked at the bottle with shock, as though a label might reveal itself.
"That's not water," he wheezed.
A gale of laughter rose up around the fire, and even Toth's eyes crinkled at the corners as he thumped his chest and coughed.
"Who's responsible for this vile liquid?"
"My uncle has a still in his backyard," explained one of the Nychts, a tall, slender man Sol knew as ‘Breaker’ because he'd snapped more javelins in practice than anyone else. He didn't know the Nycht's real name.
Toth handed the bottle to Sol, who took it by reflex. Breaker's eyes followed the bottle and tracked up to Sol's face expectantly.
"It'll set fire to your insides," Breaker offered as a benefit and desirable outcome. The other Strix, squinting with good humor, watched Sol and waited.
Sol lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swallow. His tongue and throat were immediately aflame with a ghastly burning sensation that was more chemical than anything else. It scorched his esophagus all the way down and pooled in his belly like lava. He coughed hard, grinning at the pain, and the Strix around the fire bellowed laughter, including Toth.
He handed the bottle to the next Strix, who went through the same painful routine. In this way, they were united by the heat and pain. No one enjoyed it more than Breaker, who laughed uproariously every time a wheezing cough echoed through the valley, and streaming eyes were wiped. The bonding over the noxious liquid did more to lift their spirits than hearing Red’s roar in the distance.
Sol stayed up to take first watch as the Nychts broke for the night. As he and five other Arpaks moved to their stations at the perimeter of the camp, Sol's vision swam. The warmth of the liquid began to creep outward, warming his torso, then his limbs. A good-humored calm stole over him as he settled against a thick stump of a tree. A slow grin crept over his face, as his mind lifted and played memories on the screen of his mind. A much tinier Blue crawling under a bench at his Uncle Juer's library to sleep among the dustbunnies. Jordan's face after he'd fashioned those ridiculous leaf shoes for her, before they'd reached Nishpat.
At thoughts of Jordan, the strong and regular beats of his heart seemed to turn juicy and soft, flooding his body with a love-drunk feeling. Sol passed the hours of his watch playing over the blossoming of their romance: their first kiss, the trip back to Richmond to retrieve the gun and her family's gold, the beautiful night they’d spent in front of the fire before they returned to Oriceran. It had just been the two of them—–no danger of harpies, no Rodanian politics, and, as much as Sol loved Eohne and Allan, no one to interrupt them. Sol had never felt happier.
The changing of the watch happened before Sol had even realized how much time had passed. He recognized Toth's shape as the Nycht made his way over to switch with him. There was a slightly lumbering, liquid quality to Toth's movements that Sol had never seen before. As the Arpak watched the Nycht approach and sit opposite him, he was filled with a never-before-felt desire to connect.
When Sol didn't get up and head for his sleeping quarters, Toth cocked an eyebrow at him. In the hard blue glitter of moonlight, Sol could see that the Nycht's eyes had a softness they didn't normally have. It struck him only then that they were drunk from the small amount of awful moonshine that Breaker had shared.
"Not tired?" Toth shoved his hands into his armpits and settled back against the tree.
"Do you love her?" Sol blurted the words, not even realizing what he was going to ask before the words were out of his mouth.
Toth went still as stone.
Sol did not have to clarify who he was talking about.
When the Nycht didn't respond, Sol fought hard not to apologize and retract the question. His cheeks flushed in spite of the cold night; I won’t take it back… I need to know.
He'd been wanting to know the nature of Toth's feelings toward Jordan since the Nycht first came into their lives. He pressed his lips shut and waited as the silence grew thick.
Toth's expression remained still and unsurprised at the question, his eyes unguarded. He let out a long breath, and it hung in a cloud in front of his face. He focused on this cloud and watched as it dissipated. Then he boldly met Sol's gaze.
"I do," Toth finally replied, "but not in the way you think."
Sol waited.
"I have eleven siblings," the Nycht continued.
Sol nodded. He knew this.
"Had. I have lost two." Toth held two fingers up.
"Caje, and…"
"Caje and Nieve." Toth let out another sigh. "She was not so strong as Jordan, but they have the same spirit, the same idealistic world view, the same compassion."
Sol's heart thudded with a heavy, painful ache for the Nycht. He would have felt pain for Toth even had he not been affected by the strong drink, but the alcohol brought all of his emotions to the forefront.
"I wish you and Jordan well," said Toth. "But when I met you, I didn’t think you were good enough for her. While we're being honest."
"I wasn't," Sol agreed, surprising even himself with this admission. "I had a girl once. I failed her."
Toth cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"
Sol nodded. "A nice girl. Raya was her name. She was a lawyer's daughter, and a sweet girl."
"What happened?"
"I was always gone. Obsessed with my work. Committed to king and country. I had important work to do." His tone dripped sarcasm. He pulled his cap down over his forehead, then tucked his fingers up under it and scratched. "I was foolish. Too young to understand what love really was, or what putting someone else first looked like. I broke her heart when I ended it." Sol frowned at the memory. It was a long time ago, but the feeling of hurting someone who d
idn't deserve it still came with a twist in the gut. "After that, I just thought I wasn't meant for a relationship."
Toth's mouth twisted with a wry smile. He didn't say so, but he thought Sol didn't really know what living a solitary life was all about. "Then you met Jordan."
Sol nodded. "Then I met Jordan. I resisted her." His eyes squinted shut and he grimaced at the memory of how he'd pushed her away. "I resisted her with everything I had."
"Clearly you lost that battle," Toth said.
Sol blew a breath out. "Spectacularly."
Toth chuckled at this and hunkered down deeper into his scarf.
Sol smiled and looked at the Nycht. "So, what happened to Nieve?"
Toth let a few heartbeats pass before he spoke. "Nieve was born with a weak constitution. She could never fully adjust to the Arpak rhythm that drives life in Rodania."
Sol shifted uncomfortably against the tree. "But how did she die?"
"That is how she died, Sol."
Sol gaped at the Nycht, his jaw soft with disbelief. There was nothing in the Nycht's face which spoke of a lie or a bad joke or even an exaggeration.
"I can see you do not understand, and it comes as no surprise. Though you are among the best of them, you are Arpak, after all."
Sol's mouth opened and closed, searching for a response, but there was too much shock and drink in him for something rational to surface. "But… she died?" He shook his head. "There must have been something else."
"There wasn't anything else, Sol. Nychts are nocturnal. You know this the way you know that the sky is blue and the sun is hot, but you don't know it the way we know it. Strong Nychts can and do adapt, but it costs them. It costs all of them. For some, the weaker ones, it can cost them everything." The words were plain, like Toth was explaining how to bake bread, but there was pain in his eyes. "Over time, a debt is built up; the sun does its damage. For a weak heart especially, nighttime sleep is not restorative enough."
Transcendent: The Revelations of Oriceran (The Kacy Chronicles Book 4) Page 14