Bear Knight, page 20
“Yes, but these caves are high above the ground, and aside from this one, I see no bridges. Life here must have been exhausting. Up and down stairways day and night.” She fixed her gaze on another close tower and slowed, tilting her head to try and make sense of what she saw. The Suvoroth had crested it with a statue—a beast of some kind, larger than the gargoyles at the gate of the land.
As Kara stared, the statue turned its head to look at her and leaped from its perch. The creature crossed an impossible distance to land on the bridge in front of them. She drew her sword and charged.
Pain. A slice across her arm. Black scales. A red eye, huge. A scream rocked her mind.
“Keir!”
“Kara, stop!”
She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. No creature, no matter how huge, would bar her from saving her brehna.
Fangs. Fear.
A voice, deep and filled with wicked delight. He’s mine. And so are you, Queensblood.
Another scream.
“No!” Kara slashed at the creature before her.
Long claws countered the blow, sending up blue-green sparks.
“Don’t, Kara! The fear is taking over!”
“No! The creature is real. Can’t you see it?”
More shapes landed on the bridge behind it. She didn’t care. She’d fight them all. The narrow bridge would even the odds.
Kara struck, and again the beast countered. Those claws—long like the wanderer’s—sent cold fear straight to her heart, until the beast became the wanderer. The gaping mouth. The hollow eyes. “You can’t have him! I won’t let you. Take me to Keir, or I’ll end you!”
Tiran grabbed her arms. Her sword fell.
She fought him. “Don’t! The wanderer will kill me!”
More pain. A slash from her neck to her navel. This time the scream was hers.
Kara writhed against Tiran’s hold. He took her to the ground. A great weight stopped her kicking legs. A second voice, coarse but feminine, joined his. “Hold her still, lightraider. Speak the Cry of the Fearless if you know it.”
In unison, Tiran and the coarse voice spoke over her. “Ke’Rumosh lasesh po dervimesh—vym strakanad? Ke’Rumosh mi beathnesh kestregar—vym morkanad?”
He is my light and salvation. Whom shall I fear? He is my stronghold. Whom shall I dread?
The truth of the sacred verse passed over her like a warm breeze, and Kara’s shivering stopped. The Rescuer was her salvation. He had made her Twiceborn. He was in control, no matter what terrors the Ghost Moor held. She quit struggling.
The terrible visage of the wanderer evaporated into the mist, leaving behind a broad face with a gray nose and a snout covered in blue-gray fur. Kara blinked. “You’re . . . a bear.”
The bear let out a huff and lifted her great weight from Kara’s legs. She sat back on her haunches, regarding Kara with eyes of midnight blue. “Given your bloodline, I was hoping for something more profound.”
Kara tried not to look surprised but doubted that she had any success in the endeavor. She hadn’t yet grown accustomed to Pedrig, and now this? “You’re Havarra.”
“Well, of course, dear. Only the shepherds of the beasts are permitted to speak. Our charges are not. That is the Maker’s plan.”
With Tiran’s help, Kara collected her sword and regained her feet. She gave the bear an apologetic shrug as she sheathed her weapon. “I’m sorry I attacked you. I was not myself.”
“That’s in the past. We’ll hear no more about it. Now you need rest.”
“I can’t. I mean”—Kara glanced at Tiran—“we can’t. My brehna is in danger, held and tortured by a dragon. I saw and felt his pain just now. We must find him before it’s too late.”
The bear stood to all four legs, bringing her nose even with Kara’s, and grunted. “It was not a suggestion. You need herbs and prayer to purge this poison. And I know all about your brother. To save him, you’ll need your full strength.”
38
“How do you know about Keir?”
“Is that his name?” A thoughtful growl pulsed in the bear’s throat. “Kara and Keir. So, some traditions of House Arkelon still hold. Interesting. But we can talk more later. We must leave this bridge.”
She moved aside, nodding her muzzle at the bear behind her. “This is my daughter, Ioanu. You may ride on her back. I am Ingaru. I’ll take the wartroot.”
Knowing nothing about the facial expressions of bears, Kara could not be sure, but she thought Ioanu bristled at her mehma’s declaration that Kara should ride her. Even so, the younger bear made no delay in lowering her belly to the flagstones. “Right, then. Climb on, Queensblood.”
Ingaru lowered herself as well, but Tiran hesitated. “Wartroot? Did you mean me?”
The bear huffed. “On or off, Wartroot. Either way, we’re leaving. This bridge is not safe.”
Once Kara was on her back, Ioanu raised herself then crouched as if to leap.
“Wait!” Kara wrapped her arms around the bear’s great neck. “Shouldn’t you get a running start or something?”
Ioanu laughed. Kara felt it in the bear’s throat and chest as much as she heard it. “You know nothing, Queensblood. Hold on tight.”
Ingaru leapt first, and Tiran gave a shout of surprise. Kara couldn’t blame him. The same shock hit her as Ioanu followed. The closest tall rock formation sailed beneath them. Kara had pegged it as their target, but the bears had grander plans. Another tower materialized out of the fog, its top already rising above Ingaru’s level.
“We won’t make it!” Kara said.
“That is the fear infection speaking,” Ioanu countered. “Don’t listen. Trust.”
Even as the bear spoke, Kara saw a portico midway up the formation. Ahead of them, Ingaru and Tiran landed, and Ingaru jogged to a stop between the portico’s rear columns. She moved out of the way just in time for Ioanu to land in the same place.
Kara, wishing to be respectful, dismounted the moment she was able. “Forgive my fear, but we humans couldn’t see this place from the bridge.”
Ioanu walked ahead of her into an open vestibule. “Nor could we bears, but we know the scent of our own, and that gives us direction.”
“May I?” Kara lifted the lantern from her manykit and showed her. “Our sense of smell is not so keen.”
The bear looked to her mehma, who nodded, and Kara struck her light. Once the flame had steadied, she held the lantern high.
This was no cave. Light swirls of mist hung high in green alloy rafters. Wisps drifted in the colonnades along the walls. This was a human dwelling, the kind reserved for the wealthy. “Made by the Suvoroth, I presume,” Kara said. “Do any still live on the moor?”
Ingaru walked past her, heading deeper in. “Not for ages.”
The bears brought them to a salon with stone couches. The cushions had rotted away, but Kara was grateful for the opportunity to sit.
Tiran sank down beside her. “Wartroot. Why call me Wartroot?”
“It is a swamp plant,” Ingaru said, turning to face him.
“Yes, I know. We have it in my home forest of Sil Tymest. Ugly, knobby little plant. Smells like onions.”
“As do you.”
A pair of thumps from the portico interrupted them, and two more bears lumbered in. One larger than Ingaru and one smaller—much smaller.
“Goblins on the bridge,” the larger bear said. “Four of them. Baghu clan will keep watch until they pass.” He eyed Kara. “They were tracking your humans.”
“If so, the trail has now grown cold.” Ingaru leaned her shoulder into his side—a sort of hug if Kara read it rightly. “Queensblood, Wartroot, this my husband Boianu and our son, Bordu.”
Bordu, the cub, sat on his haunches directly in front of his mehma. “I ran with Baghu clan, Mama. I kept pace.”
“I’m sure you did.” Ingaru bent her neck and nudged him aside, so that he no longer sat between her and her guests. “Your leaps grow longer by the day.”
Tiran lifted his nose from his tunic, which Kara noticed he’d been sniffing in various places. “About that. Are great leaps a skill of Havarra bears?”
“More and more,” Boianu said. “But only among the clans who made the Tagamoor their den—those who’ve drunk from the moor pools and breathed its thick air since birth.”
Kara set her lantern down on a pedestal and pushed back to sit with legs crossed on the couch. “Thick air. You mean the vapors? The same vapors that poisoned me with fear?”
Ingaru had been grumbling in her son’s ear, but at this, she lifted her muzzle and laughed. “It was not the fog, dear. The Tagamoor’s vapors are a gift of the Maker, always have been, and though they were used for ill purpose by House Suvor and the dragons, they remain uncorrupted.”
“But I thought—”
“It was the wanderer who poisoned you.” Ioanu, the younger she-bear, stepped forward and bowed her head, but only a little. “Forgive me, Queensblood, but I was following you when the wanderer attacked. I had caught your scent in Gloamwood while on patrol.”
“Patrolling beyond your range,” a growl rumbled under Ingaru’s words. “Where you’ve been forbidden to roam.”
“That is beside the point, Mother.” Ioanu kept her gaze on Kara. “I followed but held my distance, and before I was sure of you, the wanderer struck. It is the wanderer’s poison that plagues you. You learned how to destroy one quickly enough—to separate it from its lantern and pierce the flame. And for that I commend you both. But there is another lesson. You must flee before a wounded wanderer bursts, or its ashes will corrupt you. A parting blow.”
Kara recalled the horrible taste of the wanderer’s remains in her mouth. “Oh. Right.”
“Fear not. Wanderers are part of our range, and we know well how to deal with their infections. Wherever the dragons spread their corruption, the Maker provides an escape.”
Her brehna returned with a mouthful of leafy stems and laid them out on the couch beside Kara. “Jiborrel. Bog heather. It fights the wanderer’s poison.” He gave her a bearish grin. “I chewed it a bit for you already, to make it go down easier.”
Kara lifted the soggy stems and cleared her throat. “Uh. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Tiran waved a hand. “I’m still not clear on how we made it from the bridge to this house. We covered half the length of my home village in a single bound. How is that possible?”
Without any sense of effort, the husband, Boianu, jumped from Ingaru’s side to a ledge above them—what looked to be the entrance to another level of the tower—and for the first time, Kara realized she’d seen no stairs inside the structure. “The minerals of the moor become part of those who live here,” the he-bear said, “and they mingle with the vapors to carry us, even in here, where they are thin. In the thickest clouds, we can almost fly.”
“I did see you, then,” Kara said. “When we first left the cliff. Many of you. Just out of sight.”
“We thought you were Keledan, but we had to be sure. And once we were, we moved quickly to get you off the bridge. Orcs and goblins cross it from time to time, more often of late.”
Tiran snorted. “We can handle orcs and goblins.”
“She couldn’t.” Ingaru turned her snout toward Kara. “You saw how the poison affected her mind when she saw me, combined with the dragon’s torture of her brother. Imagine if she’d faced a sulfur orc or a quicksilver, or something more ancient. Neither of you would have survived.”
Something more ancient. Kara had the sense from the protective glance Ingaru gave her cub that this ancient something roamed nearby. She let it go for the moment. “Tracking orcs was our purpose, whether we were prepared to face them or not. We’d hoped those who’d looted Grenton of its young Aladoth might lead us to Keir. And that is still our goal. My brehna is in pain, so much pain.” She rose from the couch. “Please forgive my ungratefulness, but we are in haste. If you’ll just tell us what you know, we’ll be on our way.”
Ingaru pressed her great head into Kara, sitting her down. “Haste and recklessness are close companions, dear. Your brother’s circumstance is dire. His rescue will be perilous when you are well rested. In your current state, it is nigh impossible.”
With a look, she sent Ioanu and Bordu up to the ledge where Boianu had gone. “My young will bring you fruit to eat and dried heather for under your heads. You will sleep here, and in the morning, we’ll discuss Keir.”
“But, what if—”
A deep grunt cut Kara’s protest short. “No more discussion. If it eases your conscience, you have no choice but to stay. You can’t reach the bridge without us, and the moor is impassible for humans. In short, consider yourselves our prisoners.”
39
CONNOR
FADING MOUNTAINS
The fog clinging to the glade and its many rock formations traveled in slow-moving clouds, revealing tall green grass and drooping hemlock in an ever-shifting landscape. It had diminished after sunrise but had yet to fully disappear.
Lee shook the dew from his cloak, which he’d used as a blanket. “Not the best night of sleep I’ve spent. Couldn’t see a thing on my watch.”
“Nor could I—on either of them.” Connor had taken the last tick of the first watch after their landing as well as the full fourth watch, leaving the middle two for Lee and Zel. In the growing light, once all had awoken, he’d turned to inspecting the damage to The Starling.
The ship’s alderwood trusses and wicker hull looked sound, as did the steel runners, apart from a few nicks and scratches. But the center pouch had suffered a dire wound.
Connor stared up at the long tear in the silk and sighed. “Can you mend it, Zel?”
“Not properly.” She sat in the ship, where she’d slept after refusing to lie on Taneletharian grass, lest some tiny goblin-ant or orc-beetle crawl into her ear. Connor’s efforts to convince her no such insects existed had been futile.
“Are not wood sprites and cave sprites the corrupted forms of insects?” she’d asked, looking down at him over the rail the night before.
“As far as we know, yes.”
“And have you catalogued every type of dark creature in this land?”
“Likely not.”
With a curt nod, she’d disappeared from the rail, leaving only her voice. “Then I shall sleep in here, thank you.”
She crawled out from this hiding place now to stand with him in the grass and stare up at her wounded ship. “I have neither the skill nor enough silk to make a good patch.”
“What about a stitch. If we find a needle and thread and stitch the tear, will it hold for a flight or two?”
Zel shrugged. “Never been tried. Flying about Keledev, let alone the Dragon Lands, is a new frontier. Mostly the stormwatchers go up and come down again. Our collective experience has little else to offer.”
Lee slung his bow over his shoulder and joined them. “I think stormwatcher is an outdated term, Zel, at least for you. After yesterday, you should be called a stormrider.”
“Stormrider.” The frustration in her features softened. “Yes, that’ll do. It’ll do nicely. But if the Rescuer wanted us to ride that storm, as you put it, why did he let his portal damage The Starling?”
“Perhaps we made an error,” Lee said. “Now that we know what the Rescuer can do with your father’s design, some changes may be in order.”
Zel hit him with a hard look. “Are you saying my father’s design is imperfect?”
“It is a first design, is it not? Or perhaps a second?” The scribe pointed to his spectacles. “This is a third design, much lighter and nimbler than the first, and Master Belen says there’ll be many more. That is the nature of inventions. Also, the alternative solution is that the Rescuer’s design is imperfect. Which do you think is more likely?”
She frowned but gave no argument.
They broke their fast with the way rations Zel had packed for the journey from Sky Harbor to Ras Telesar and back—wheat cakes filled with applethorn berries, oats, and dried meat. Lee included a prayer for aid and guidance with the blessing.
“These will not last long,” he said after they all had finished their ration. “We’ll need to find a town if we can and buy provisions.”
Faelin’s markings in his secret ink had identified this place as a sanctuary, but Connor saw no obvious hovel or shed. The ground fog did not help. Despite the morning getting on, it still had not cleared.
“No wonder your grandfather couldn’t find the dagger in these mountains,” Lee said as they explored the glade. “Were I to drop a coin, I doubt I’d ever find it again.”
“And yet we must.” Connor walked around a lone hemlock—the largest he’d seen. “Find the dagger, I mean.”
“Or the Rapha Key. We haven’t decided which the Rescuer wants us to seek yet.”
Connor gave him a flat look. “We’ll see. Either way, that lost coin is your affair.” He stopped halfway around the hemlock. “Hello. What’s this?”
A rock poked out of the fog, so close to the hemlock that the tree’s sagging evergreen boughs covered its top. A spring flowed from under the boughs and down a natural furrow in the rock to fill a dark pool not much broader than a village fountain. Connor’s hello was prompted by a doe watering at the pool. She bolted the moment he spoke.
Nothing about this seemed out of place—a rock, a tree, a spring, and a deer—except that Connor caught a hint of lighter green under the branches. As the others hurried over, he pressed the boughs aside. And the more he uncovered, the odder the rock became.
The spring bubbled up through a small well within the rock’s flat peak before flowing down the furrow. A highly translucent crystal surrounded the well. Connor might have thought it was a deposit caused by the water, except that suspended within the crystal were green emblems. “Those symbols look like malachite,” he said to Lee, “and they’re definitely manmade. But I don’t recognize them.”
Lee bent closer. “They’re liege runes, still used in many Taneletharian cantons. The one that looks similar to an A is House Advor.”
“Advor.” Connor recognized the name. Kara had once told him her brehnan both wore the brand of Advor. She too might have worn it if Liam hadn’t borne her and Keir away while she was still young enough for a crib, after the orcs killed their parents. What were the odds that out here, looking for one of Faelin’s sanctuaries, he’d find a rune tied to the very girl Faelin had helped him rescue? “What about the symbol that looks like a bird?”
As Kara stared, the statue turned its head to look at her and leaped from its perch. The creature crossed an impossible distance to land on the bridge in front of them. She drew her sword and charged.
Pain. A slice across her arm. Black scales. A red eye, huge. A scream rocked her mind.
“Keir!”
“Kara, stop!”
She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. No creature, no matter how huge, would bar her from saving her brehna.
Fangs. Fear.
A voice, deep and filled with wicked delight. He’s mine. And so are you, Queensblood.
Another scream.
“No!” Kara slashed at the creature before her.
Long claws countered the blow, sending up blue-green sparks.
“Don’t, Kara! The fear is taking over!”
“No! The creature is real. Can’t you see it?”
More shapes landed on the bridge behind it. She didn’t care. She’d fight them all. The narrow bridge would even the odds.
Kara struck, and again the beast countered. Those claws—long like the wanderer’s—sent cold fear straight to her heart, until the beast became the wanderer. The gaping mouth. The hollow eyes. “You can’t have him! I won’t let you. Take me to Keir, or I’ll end you!”
Tiran grabbed her arms. Her sword fell.
She fought him. “Don’t! The wanderer will kill me!”
More pain. A slash from her neck to her navel. This time the scream was hers.
Kara writhed against Tiran’s hold. He took her to the ground. A great weight stopped her kicking legs. A second voice, coarse but feminine, joined his. “Hold her still, lightraider. Speak the Cry of the Fearless if you know it.”
In unison, Tiran and the coarse voice spoke over her. “Ke’Rumosh lasesh po dervimesh—vym strakanad? Ke’Rumosh mi beathnesh kestregar—vym morkanad?”
He is my light and salvation. Whom shall I fear? He is my stronghold. Whom shall I dread?
The truth of the sacred verse passed over her like a warm breeze, and Kara’s shivering stopped. The Rescuer was her salvation. He had made her Twiceborn. He was in control, no matter what terrors the Ghost Moor held. She quit struggling.
The terrible visage of the wanderer evaporated into the mist, leaving behind a broad face with a gray nose and a snout covered in blue-gray fur. Kara blinked. “You’re . . . a bear.”
The bear let out a huff and lifted her great weight from Kara’s legs. She sat back on her haunches, regarding Kara with eyes of midnight blue. “Given your bloodline, I was hoping for something more profound.”
Kara tried not to look surprised but doubted that she had any success in the endeavor. She hadn’t yet grown accustomed to Pedrig, and now this? “You’re Havarra.”
“Well, of course, dear. Only the shepherds of the beasts are permitted to speak. Our charges are not. That is the Maker’s plan.”
With Tiran’s help, Kara collected her sword and regained her feet. She gave the bear an apologetic shrug as she sheathed her weapon. “I’m sorry I attacked you. I was not myself.”
“That’s in the past. We’ll hear no more about it. Now you need rest.”
“I can’t. I mean”—Kara glanced at Tiran—“we can’t. My brehna is in danger, held and tortured by a dragon. I saw and felt his pain just now. We must find him before it’s too late.”
The bear stood to all four legs, bringing her nose even with Kara’s, and grunted. “It was not a suggestion. You need herbs and prayer to purge this poison. And I know all about your brother. To save him, you’ll need your full strength.”
38
“How do you know about Keir?”
“Is that his name?” A thoughtful growl pulsed in the bear’s throat. “Kara and Keir. So, some traditions of House Arkelon still hold. Interesting. But we can talk more later. We must leave this bridge.”
She moved aside, nodding her muzzle at the bear behind her. “This is my daughter, Ioanu. You may ride on her back. I am Ingaru. I’ll take the wartroot.”
Knowing nothing about the facial expressions of bears, Kara could not be sure, but she thought Ioanu bristled at her mehma’s declaration that Kara should ride her. Even so, the younger bear made no delay in lowering her belly to the flagstones. “Right, then. Climb on, Queensblood.”
Ingaru lowered herself as well, but Tiran hesitated. “Wartroot? Did you mean me?”
The bear huffed. “On or off, Wartroot. Either way, we’re leaving. This bridge is not safe.”
Once Kara was on her back, Ioanu raised herself then crouched as if to leap.
“Wait!” Kara wrapped her arms around the bear’s great neck. “Shouldn’t you get a running start or something?”
Ioanu laughed. Kara felt it in the bear’s throat and chest as much as she heard it. “You know nothing, Queensblood. Hold on tight.”
Ingaru leapt first, and Tiran gave a shout of surprise. Kara couldn’t blame him. The same shock hit her as Ioanu followed. The closest tall rock formation sailed beneath them. Kara had pegged it as their target, but the bears had grander plans. Another tower materialized out of the fog, its top already rising above Ingaru’s level.
“We won’t make it!” Kara said.
“That is the fear infection speaking,” Ioanu countered. “Don’t listen. Trust.”
Even as the bear spoke, Kara saw a portico midway up the formation. Ahead of them, Ingaru and Tiran landed, and Ingaru jogged to a stop between the portico’s rear columns. She moved out of the way just in time for Ioanu to land in the same place.
Kara, wishing to be respectful, dismounted the moment she was able. “Forgive my fear, but we humans couldn’t see this place from the bridge.”
Ioanu walked ahead of her into an open vestibule. “Nor could we bears, but we know the scent of our own, and that gives us direction.”
“May I?” Kara lifted the lantern from her manykit and showed her. “Our sense of smell is not so keen.”
The bear looked to her mehma, who nodded, and Kara struck her light. Once the flame had steadied, she held the lantern high.
This was no cave. Light swirls of mist hung high in green alloy rafters. Wisps drifted in the colonnades along the walls. This was a human dwelling, the kind reserved for the wealthy. “Made by the Suvoroth, I presume,” Kara said. “Do any still live on the moor?”
Ingaru walked past her, heading deeper in. “Not for ages.”
The bears brought them to a salon with stone couches. The cushions had rotted away, but Kara was grateful for the opportunity to sit.
Tiran sank down beside her. “Wartroot. Why call me Wartroot?”
“It is a swamp plant,” Ingaru said, turning to face him.
“Yes, I know. We have it in my home forest of Sil Tymest. Ugly, knobby little plant. Smells like onions.”
“As do you.”
A pair of thumps from the portico interrupted them, and two more bears lumbered in. One larger than Ingaru and one smaller—much smaller.
“Goblins on the bridge,” the larger bear said. “Four of them. Baghu clan will keep watch until they pass.” He eyed Kara. “They were tracking your humans.”
“If so, the trail has now grown cold.” Ingaru leaned her shoulder into his side—a sort of hug if Kara read it rightly. “Queensblood, Wartroot, this my husband Boianu and our son, Bordu.”
Bordu, the cub, sat on his haunches directly in front of his mehma. “I ran with Baghu clan, Mama. I kept pace.”
“I’m sure you did.” Ingaru bent her neck and nudged him aside, so that he no longer sat between her and her guests. “Your leaps grow longer by the day.”
Tiran lifted his nose from his tunic, which Kara noticed he’d been sniffing in various places. “About that. Are great leaps a skill of Havarra bears?”
“More and more,” Boianu said. “But only among the clans who made the Tagamoor their den—those who’ve drunk from the moor pools and breathed its thick air since birth.”
Kara set her lantern down on a pedestal and pushed back to sit with legs crossed on the couch. “Thick air. You mean the vapors? The same vapors that poisoned me with fear?”
Ingaru had been grumbling in her son’s ear, but at this, she lifted her muzzle and laughed. “It was not the fog, dear. The Tagamoor’s vapors are a gift of the Maker, always have been, and though they were used for ill purpose by House Suvor and the dragons, they remain uncorrupted.”
“But I thought—”
“It was the wanderer who poisoned you.” Ioanu, the younger she-bear, stepped forward and bowed her head, but only a little. “Forgive me, Queensblood, but I was following you when the wanderer attacked. I had caught your scent in Gloamwood while on patrol.”
“Patrolling beyond your range,” a growl rumbled under Ingaru’s words. “Where you’ve been forbidden to roam.”
“That is beside the point, Mother.” Ioanu kept her gaze on Kara. “I followed but held my distance, and before I was sure of you, the wanderer struck. It is the wanderer’s poison that plagues you. You learned how to destroy one quickly enough—to separate it from its lantern and pierce the flame. And for that I commend you both. But there is another lesson. You must flee before a wounded wanderer bursts, or its ashes will corrupt you. A parting blow.”
Kara recalled the horrible taste of the wanderer’s remains in her mouth. “Oh. Right.”
“Fear not. Wanderers are part of our range, and we know well how to deal with their infections. Wherever the dragons spread their corruption, the Maker provides an escape.”
Her brehna returned with a mouthful of leafy stems and laid them out on the couch beside Kara. “Jiborrel. Bog heather. It fights the wanderer’s poison.” He gave her a bearish grin. “I chewed it a bit for you already, to make it go down easier.”
Kara lifted the soggy stems and cleared her throat. “Uh. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Tiran waved a hand. “I’m still not clear on how we made it from the bridge to this house. We covered half the length of my home village in a single bound. How is that possible?”
Without any sense of effort, the husband, Boianu, jumped from Ingaru’s side to a ledge above them—what looked to be the entrance to another level of the tower—and for the first time, Kara realized she’d seen no stairs inside the structure. “The minerals of the moor become part of those who live here,” the he-bear said, “and they mingle with the vapors to carry us, even in here, where they are thin. In the thickest clouds, we can almost fly.”
“I did see you, then,” Kara said. “When we first left the cliff. Many of you. Just out of sight.”
“We thought you were Keledan, but we had to be sure. And once we were, we moved quickly to get you off the bridge. Orcs and goblins cross it from time to time, more often of late.”
Tiran snorted. “We can handle orcs and goblins.”
“She couldn’t.” Ingaru turned her snout toward Kara. “You saw how the poison affected her mind when she saw me, combined with the dragon’s torture of her brother. Imagine if she’d faced a sulfur orc or a quicksilver, or something more ancient. Neither of you would have survived.”
Something more ancient. Kara had the sense from the protective glance Ingaru gave her cub that this ancient something roamed nearby. She let it go for the moment. “Tracking orcs was our purpose, whether we were prepared to face them or not. We’d hoped those who’d looted Grenton of its young Aladoth might lead us to Keir. And that is still our goal. My brehna is in pain, so much pain.” She rose from the couch. “Please forgive my ungratefulness, but we are in haste. If you’ll just tell us what you know, we’ll be on our way.”
Ingaru pressed her great head into Kara, sitting her down. “Haste and recklessness are close companions, dear. Your brother’s circumstance is dire. His rescue will be perilous when you are well rested. In your current state, it is nigh impossible.”
With a look, she sent Ioanu and Bordu up to the ledge where Boianu had gone. “My young will bring you fruit to eat and dried heather for under your heads. You will sleep here, and in the morning, we’ll discuss Keir.”
“But, what if—”
A deep grunt cut Kara’s protest short. “No more discussion. If it eases your conscience, you have no choice but to stay. You can’t reach the bridge without us, and the moor is impassible for humans. In short, consider yourselves our prisoners.”
39
CONNOR
FADING MOUNTAINS
The fog clinging to the glade and its many rock formations traveled in slow-moving clouds, revealing tall green grass and drooping hemlock in an ever-shifting landscape. It had diminished after sunrise but had yet to fully disappear.
Lee shook the dew from his cloak, which he’d used as a blanket. “Not the best night of sleep I’ve spent. Couldn’t see a thing on my watch.”
“Nor could I—on either of them.” Connor had taken the last tick of the first watch after their landing as well as the full fourth watch, leaving the middle two for Lee and Zel. In the growing light, once all had awoken, he’d turned to inspecting the damage to The Starling.
The ship’s alderwood trusses and wicker hull looked sound, as did the steel runners, apart from a few nicks and scratches. But the center pouch had suffered a dire wound.
Connor stared up at the long tear in the silk and sighed. “Can you mend it, Zel?”
“Not properly.” She sat in the ship, where she’d slept after refusing to lie on Taneletharian grass, lest some tiny goblin-ant or orc-beetle crawl into her ear. Connor’s efforts to convince her no such insects existed had been futile.
“Are not wood sprites and cave sprites the corrupted forms of insects?” she’d asked, looking down at him over the rail the night before.
“As far as we know, yes.”
“And have you catalogued every type of dark creature in this land?”
“Likely not.”
With a curt nod, she’d disappeared from the rail, leaving only her voice. “Then I shall sleep in here, thank you.”
She crawled out from this hiding place now to stand with him in the grass and stare up at her wounded ship. “I have neither the skill nor enough silk to make a good patch.”
“What about a stitch. If we find a needle and thread and stitch the tear, will it hold for a flight or two?”
Zel shrugged. “Never been tried. Flying about Keledev, let alone the Dragon Lands, is a new frontier. Mostly the stormwatchers go up and come down again. Our collective experience has little else to offer.”
Lee slung his bow over his shoulder and joined them. “I think stormwatcher is an outdated term, Zel, at least for you. After yesterday, you should be called a stormrider.”
“Stormrider.” The frustration in her features softened. “Yes, that’ll do. It’ll do nicely. But if the Rescuer wanted us to ride that storm, as you put it, why did he let his portal damage The Starling?”
“Perhaps we made an error,” Lee said. “Now that we know what the Rescuer can do with your father’s design, some changes may be in order.”
Zel hit him with a hard look. “Are you saying my father’s design is imperfect?”
“It is a first design, is it not? Or perhaps a second?” The scribe pointed to his spectacles. “This is a third design, much lighter and nimbler than the first, and Master Belen says there’ll be many more. That is the nature of inventions. Also, the alternative solution is that the Rescuer’s design is imperfect. Which do you think is more likely?”
She frowned but gave no argument.
They broke their fast with the way rations Zel had packed for the journey from Sky Harbor to Ras Telesar and back—wheat cakes filled with applethorn berries, oats, and dried meat. Lee included a prayer for aid and guidance with the blessing.
“These will not last long,” he said after they all had finished their ration. “We’ll need to find a town if we can and buy provisions.”
Faelin’s markings in his secret ink had identified this place as a sanctuary, but Connor saw no obvious hovel or shed. The ground fog did not help. Despite the morning getting on, it still had not cleared.
“No wonder your grandfather couldn’t find the dagger in these mountains,” Lee said as they explored the glade. “Were I to drop a coin, I doubt I’d ever find it again.”
“And yet we must.” Connor walked around a lone hemlock—the largest he’d seen. “Find the dagger, I mean.”
“Or the Rapha Key. We haven’t decided which the Rescuer wants us to seek yet.”
Connor gave him a flat look. “We’ll see. Either way, that lost coin is your affair.” He stopped halfway around the hemlock. “Hello. What’s this?”
A rock poked out of the fog, so close to the hemlock that the tree’s sagging evergreen boughs covered its top. A spring flowed from under the boughs and down a natural furrow in the rock to fill a dark pool not much broader than a village fountain. Connor’s hello was prompted by a doe watering at the pool. She bolted the moment he spoke.
Nothing about this seemed out of place—a rock, a tree, a spring, and a deer—except that Connor caught a hint of lighter green under the branches. As the others hurried over, he pressed the boughs aside. And the more he uncovered, the odder the rock became.
The spring bubbled up through a small well within the rock’s flat peak before flowing down the furrow. A highly translucent crystal surrounded the well. Connor might have thought it was a deposit caused by the water, except that suspended within the crystal were green emblems. “Those symbols look like malachite,” he said to Lee, “and they’re definitely manmade. But I don’t recognize them.”
Lee bent closer. “They’re liege runes, still used in many Taneletharian cantons. The one that looks similar to an A is House Advor.”
“Advor.” Connor recognized the name. Kara had once told him her brehnan both wore the brand of Advor. She too might have worn it if Liam hadn’t borne her and Keir away while she was still young enough for a crib, after the orcs killed their parents. What were the odds that out here, looking for one of Faelin’s sanctuaries, he’d find a rune tied to the very girl Faelin had helped him rescue? “What about the symbol that looks like a bird?”
