Blood's Pride

by Evie Manieri

  “Omir!” Daryan cried joyfully.

  “Stay back, Daimon. We came as soon as we heard you were still alive. Faroth has no right to lead us—he’s a murderer. He’s killed hundreds of Shadari tonight by destroying the temple. He’ll kill you, too, before the sun is up.”

  “Omir, for the gods’ sake, put your weapon down!” Daryan cautioned. “This isn’t the time!”

  Faroth thrust out his arm toward Daryan; his other hand brandished the curved sword that Rho knew so well. “Daryan has betrayed us!” he shouted, and the crowd murmured loudly in response, but not necessarily in agreement. The bodies around Rho shifted as the spectators turned to each other, but he continued watching Omir and his men. They had Faroth encircled, and were slowly drawing the loop tight.

  “Stop, stop,” Daryan called out to Omir, waving his arms over his head. “Don’t come any closer—”

  “They’re all traitors,” Faroth shouted to the crowd, then he bent down to Dramash and whispered something in his ear. The boy looked sharply up at his father, and then at Daryan. Omir saw the look, and with an inarticulate cry charged forward toward the father and son.

  “Dramash—do it!” Faroth shouted, grabbing the boy and shaking his arm, but nothing happened. He yanked the child around in front of him. “You’re not going to get my son!” Faroth roared at Omir. He drew his sword and held it in front of the boy’s neck. “I’ll kill him myself before I’ll let any of you take him!”

  “Stop!” Daryan repeated as he ran forward to block Omir’s path. “Just wait! This isn’t the way—”

  Rho looked at the blade in Faroth’s hand and felt the steel ripping into his gut all over again. Wincing at the sudden pain, he looked up into Dramash’s face. To his amazement, he found Dramash looking not at Omir or Daryan but straight back at him. It was Frea’s bedchamber all over again, only now Rho was the one looking on and Dramash was the one with Faroth’s sword pressed up against his flesh. And as surely as if Dramash had been a Norlander, Rho knew that the boy was having exactly the same thought, and was remembering what Faroth had done the last time.

  And he knew exactly what Dramash was going to do.

  “Rho, no—wait!” Daryan called out as he threw off the blanket and plunged forward.

  Dramash was only a few steps away, but to Rho it felt like he was running under water. The ten strides he needed to reach the boy and his father stretched ahead of him like leagues. On the second step he saw Dramash pull away from Faroth. On the third he saw Faroth reach out for the boy and on the fifth, like a bird swallowing a worm, the sand opened up under Faroth’s feet and sucked him down. On the sixth step he heard the crowd screaming, and on the eighth he saw them turn and flee from the child, now standing alone in front of the little mound of sand that had closed over his father’s head. And on the ninth step, Rho fell to his knees, dropped his sword and began paddling in the dirt under Dramash’s steady gaze, but there was nothing left of Faroth. He was gone.

  Dramash’s smooth, little-boy features were inscrutable. “It’s wrong to hurt people,” he said.

  Rho sat back on his heels and looked up at the child. “Yes,” he said, feeling the word burning in his throat. “It is wrong.”

  Dramash didn’t respond. Rho dug his fingers into the dirt. The flat ground mocked him with its semblance of solidity. He was waiting for the first sign of a shift, the first lurch of the pull. He had been judged and sentenced, and now his punishment was finally at hand.

  “You’re bleeding,” Dramash told him, pointing a stubby finger at his stomach. He looked down. His wound had reopened and fresh blood had already soaked through his shirt and stained his cloak. With the sight of the wound came the pain, and with the pain came the dizziness. He crashed to one side, falling onto his elbow.

  The wings again: he saw them through the purple splotches in front of his eyes. There were triffons in the air—too many triffons: all of Rho’s ghosts, coming to watch the ground drag him below. One of the triffons pounced just behind Dramash, and the ground under his legs bounced. And there was Frea, on Trakkar’s back, in her white cape and gleaming silver helmet, immaculate as a goddess amid the blood and the smoke.

  Other triffons took up positions around the square, not fully alighting, but keeping their claws just off the ground, the concussive flapping of their wings stirring up the sand and soot, their roar drowning out even the terrified screams of the Shadari as they tried to push and shove their way out of the palace hall.

  Ingeld, Rho’s former barracks-mate, snatched Dramash from before his very eyes, tossed a sack over his head and threw him up onto Frea’s saddle.

  Frea said to Rho as her gloved hands deftly fastened the straps around Dramash. The boy sat still, apparently too stunned or too frightened to struggle or fight back.

  On her signal, the triffons rose into the air and turned toward the sea. He saw Daryan running after them, shrieking something in Shadari and shaking his fist at the sky. Rho crawled painfully to his feet. The crowd had gone, except for the victims of the terrified stampede lying hurt or insensate on the ground.

  A lone triffon flapped out of the gray sky and dropped to the ground in front of Rho, and he looked into Aeda’s black, shining eyes.

  Isa told him.

  He walked around beside Aeda, steeled himself against the pain and pulled himself up.

  As he strapped himself in, she asked, She tried to get a closer look at him over her shoulder, but his cape concealed the worst of the mess.

  he promised her.

  She turned back around. she asked. Her words had a cold crispness around the edges, like frost.

 

  She bunched the reins up in her solo hand. He expected her to take Aeda into the air, but instead she said,

  He looked at the loose strands of her soft white hair, moving in the breeze. Her cowl was down and he could see the smooth sweep of her neck.

  she told him. She paused, and he could almost see the air around her shimmering and the crystalline Norland snow falling down around her shoulders.

  He realized that he had never loved anything as much as he loved Isa at that moment. He leaned forward and lifted her cowl up over her head for her, making sure the folds covered her vulnerable skin. Then she whistled to Aeda and launched them into the air.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Isa strained her eyes, searching the sky for Frea and her men, urgency charging through her. The horizon had turned a pearly gray, with the threat of a brilliant dawn waiting not far off to dazzle her, and the further out to sea they went, the closer they came to passing the point from which Aeda would not have the strength to fly back to shore.

  she reminded Rho.

  he said, his words short and brittle, and she thought again of the blood on his cloak. She wanted to turn around for another look, but she was afraid to take her eyes off the sky in front of her.

  Then she caught sight of Frea’s neat formation of triffons bearing down on the massive imperial ship. Her sister’s silver helmet gleamed from the point of the formation and Isa fought down a surge of panic. she reported.

 

  She guided Aeda up above the formation, and saw when Frea’s silver helmet swung around and the black eye-slits train
ed on them. One triffon broke and wheeled around toward them.

  Isa said, her heart pumping fast.

  Rho drew his sword and stood up in the stirrups, his hips rolling to compensate for the movement of Aeda’s body, the leather straps around his thighs stretching and tightening, keeping him safe. She noticed with alarm that the bloodstain on his cape looked larger than it had before.

 

  he said, cutting her off.

  She ducked as the two triffons passed each other, and he raised his arm to fend off Ongen’s attack, his white cape catching the wind and snapping out behind him. Ongen’s meaty arm came down in a weighty hack that Isa felt shake the saddle beneath her, but Rho made no attempt to strike back, only blocked Ongen’s blow, and did the same with the two that followed it. The moment they were clear, Aeda dropped her head and swooped down so close beneath the other triffon that Isa had to twist out of the way of its sweeping tail, then they immediately rose up again and nimbly turned in the opposite direction.

  Rho explained as she looked down, stunned, at the reins lying slackly in her hand. They came on Ongen from behind; the soldier twisted around in the saddle and found himself horribly out of position. Aeda tucked in her wings and glided past; Rho feinted once and then plunged his sword straight into Ongen’s chest. He was dead before Aeda’s tail flicked by his slumping body. Aeda broke away from the other triffon of her own accord and headed away. Isa swiveled around to look behind her.

  advised Rho, as he collapsed back down into the saddle, breathing hard, but his warning came too late. She saw Ongen’s triffon sniff the air and his nostrils flare out as he smelled the blood. He whined in alarm and started bucking in mid-air, trying to throw the body from its back.

  Rho explained uncomfortably, watching Ongen’s corpse flopping around like a rag-doll. Bones snapped like sticks as the body collided again and again with the hard leather saddle.

  Isa tightened her grip on the reins and turned Aeda around.

  asked Rho.

  she said to Aeda, whistling reassuringly as they cautiously approached the terrified triffon.

 

  But Aeda snorted reassuringly to her fellow creature, and with a nervous whinny he stopped bucking long enough for them to draw alongside. Rho leaned out over Aeda’s wing and carefully cut the tethers that held the saddle on the triffon’s back. Ongen’s body, still strapped in, slowly slid off and plunged down toward the black water. They waited until they heard the splash.

  Rho said tightly,

  She took them higher up and as they neared the ship, they saw that Frea had started her attack. Sailors were scurrying down from the rigging, looking for refuge belowdecks while the Norland soldiers garrisoned on board swept up to the fighting tops. Some of Frea’s men had already landed on the vast deck, while others were making feints from the air. The wind was strong and the sea was fast; dropping anchor was not an option. The whole battle was moving rapidly away from the Shadar.

  Rho called out tensely, as Frea’s helmet flashed. Trakkar was orbiting the ship’s mainmast. Dramash was still with her—he no longer had the sack over his head and his arms were free, but he was not struggling.

  Rho advised.

 

 

  With her nerves singing, she stood up in the stirrups. she called out.

  Rho began, but she silenced him.

  she called again, even though she knew her sister had heard her the first time. She guided Aeda closer.

  Frea circled the mast and turned her triffon around to face them.

  Frea asked Rho as if Isa wasn’t even there.

  Rho seethed as he stood up, and Isa saw the flash of Fortune’s Blight as he drew.

  Isa reminded him.

  he replied wretchedly, dropping back into the saddle.

  she said.

  Frea asked them.

  Isa replied.

  Frea shot back. And there it was again: the fear, like a long thread winding through her every word—Isa couldn’t understand how she had never noticed it before. She felt that if she took the fear in her fingers and tugged on it, Frea would simply unravel into nothingness. Even the silver helmet with its snarling wolf’s head was no longer the least bit intimidating. It was like looking at a child hiding in plain sight with her hands over her eyes.

  Another triffon broke off from circling the ship and headed toward them. Frea called back.

  he snapped, and turned his triffon back toward the ship.

  Isa said impulsively, the words rushing out before she had time to think about them.

  Rho called out, and she felt a tug on the back of her cloak. He trailed off as Aeda turned and they both squinted fiercely against the light, trying to keep Frea in view.

  Frea screeched. She swung Trakkar around on an intercept course.

  she said as she steered Aeda into combat position.

  Frea told her.

  Frea meant to hurt her, to drive her to despair, and everything she said was true enough—except for one part, and it was was the only part that mattered. she said coolly. She tossed the reins back to Rho and commanded,

  He caught the reins and threw himself against the saddle as Frea came on, heaving Blood’s Pride aloft. Isa refused to let herself think about the black water churning below; she trusted the harness to hold her, and focused all of her concentration on Frea’s sword. She threw every ounce of force she had into her attack: strike; watch; react. The time it took for her sister’s arm to arch back and come at her again felt long enough to contain a whole lifetime. Somewhere underneath it all, she heard Rho shouting in Shadari, “Dramash! Slide back—all the way back—and stay down!”

  They were just about to slip out of reach when she twisted as far as she could to her left, away from
Frea, and brought her hand up past her face and high up over her left ear. Then she swept the blow down and behind her, using the force of it to turn her body almost completely around. But her aim was off; instead of striking Frea’s back, she hit the silver helmet with a clang like the rap of a hammer. The force stung her hand so badly that she nearly dropped Truth’s Might into the ocean, but the helmet buckled and Frea rocked heavily over the side of her saddle. Isa prepared to deliver the decisive thrust, but the triffons had passed each other and Frea was out of reach.

  Rho turned Aeda around again into the sun; beneath her cowl Isa felt the heat of the dawn on her face. The colors were so brilliant that they drew tears from her eyes. The wind had carried the imperial ship further out toward the horizon, and Frea’s men were too far away to intervene. Whatever happened now would be played out among the three of them.

  she cried suddenly as she noticed him undoing the buckles that held him in the harness.

  he said. He took Fortune’s Blight and slid it into the saddle-scabbard. By now the straps of his harness were flapping in the air and the stirrups were the only thing keeping him on the triffon’s back. he said, holding the reins out to her, and when she started to sheath her sword, added,

  she said. She could see Frea across the sky, readying Blood’s Pride, and she could feel her sister’s fury like a soundless roar.

  He leaned forward. The passivity that had always been so much a part of him was gone forever; his assurance was irrefutable and as solid as a brick. he told her, looping the reins around her thigh and cinching them loosely. He gripped her leg and then turned back around.

  Instinctively Aeda matched her wing-strokes to Trakkar’s. Up. Down. Up. Down. As they came closer Isa could see the damage she had done. The right side of Frea’s helmet bore a deep indentation and blood was dripping from underneath it onto the collar of her cloak.