Empires of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 2) (22 page)

"I killed three!" one
man was boasting. "Cracked their skulls with my hammer, I did,
and bedded their wives." His accent was thick and a couple words
were different from Ardish, but Cam understood enough.

One of his friends roared with
laughter. "Three? I killed fourteen of the little creatures—my
bear ate one of their children."

An older rider, this one with
grizzled eyebrows and a leathery face, glared at the two braggarts.
"Hush! This road is swarming with Elorians. The bastards lurk in
shadows. You don't see them till they leap right at you." He
flipped and caught a dagger. "Men say there's a great city of
them in the south; thrice the size of Eeshan, they say it is. The
bloody Ardish conquered it, but Verilon will have a bite."

The bears and their riders rode
close now; soon they would go south along the road. Hiding behind the
boulders, Cam bit his lip, praying the men wouldn't hear or smell
them. Cam could have perhaps convinced Ardish soldiers to ride on,
but Verilon held his people no love, despite being a fellow kingdom
of sunlight.

If
they see me here with an Elorian, they will attack,
Cam knew.
They
will kill Suntai and me, and they will take Linee as their captive.

The
riders kept moving down the road; soon Cam could only see the backs
of the men. He remained very still, holding Linee close in the
saddle; she was trembling. Suntai waited at his side, eyes narrowed
to slits.

The Verilish riders kept
speaking as their bears headed south.

"I hear Arden's got a
pretty little queen," one man said, contorting to scratch his
back. "They say she got blond hair and green eyes and is all
young and fresh."

One of his friends snorted. "I
reckon if we find her here in the night, she's ours to keep. Would
like to have me a queen, I would."

Linee's trembling grew more
violent. A whimper rose from her, barely more than a squeak. Cam
tensed and held her more tightly.

Hush,
Linee, in Idar's name . . .

The bears kept rambling farther
south, lanterns bobbing.

"I hear she's called . . .
what was her name again?" one of the Verilish riders said.
"Queen Linee! That's it. Queen Linee of Arden." He barked a
laugh. "I think I'll grab her right up—take her back home in
chains. Could serve me ale and warm my bed, Queen Linee can."

This time Linee's whimper was
louder—a plaintive sound like a flute that wafted across the night.

Cam cursed and covered her mouth
with his palm.

The bear riders stiffened, their
armor creaking. Heads spun around and a bear sniffed and grunted.

"I heard something,"
said one rider. "I heard—"

"Elorians on the road,"
said his companion, the older rider with the thick, grizzled brows.
"Men, raise your hammers! Find them."

Cam's heart pounded as the five
riders spurred their mounts. The bears came charging off the road,
their riders readying their hammers. Lamplight cascaded across the
land, falling upon Cam and his companions.

His heart seemed to freeze and
shatter. Linee screamed. Cam reached for his sword, but his fingers
fumbled. The five Verilish men stared at him, eyes wide. Their bears
reared beneath them, clawed the air, and roared. Strings of saliva
glistened between their teeth.

Cam drew his sword, gulped, and
prepared to die.

A high-pitched yowl tore across
the night.

White fur and steel flashed.

Shouting battle cries, Suntai
raced past him upon her wolf, shield and katana raised in her hands.

With
a yowl, her wolf leaped toward the five bears. Her blade
lashed. Hammers swung her way.

Before
Cam could even take a breath, his wolf reared beneath him and Linee.
The gray beast leaped after his alpha, claws lashing.

Sitting ahead of
him in the saddle, Linee screamed. Cam cursed and swung his sword
blindly.

"Camlin!" Linee cried.

A bear came lolloping toward them. The rider atop the beast snarled, saliva spraying into his beard, and swung a hammer. Linee shrieked. Beneath them, their wolf clawed and bit. Unable to breathe, Cam raised his shield.

The hammer slammed down.

Cam cried out. The hammer drove into his shield, denting the metal; Cam thought his arm almost dislocated.

"Linee, duck!" he shouted.

When her head was lowered, he swung his sword, trying to hit the Verilish soldier. His blade only sliced the air. The bear and rider pulled back then leaped forward. Cam's wolf bucked beneath him. The two animals slammed together in a storm of fur, fang, and claw.

Shouting, Cam slipped from the saddle, slid across his wolf's back, and thudded onto the rocky earth. The air jolted out of his lungs. Before he could breathe again, Linee slammed down onto his chest.

"Linee, get off!" he said, struggling to rise from under her.

He managed to shove her off just in time to see a rider, burly and brutish, leaning down from his bear to swing a hammer. Cam winced and raised his shield again. The steel took another blow, bending around his arm; even with the shield, it felt like his arm had come close to snapping. The brute above laughed and raised his hammer again.

Cam grimaced, knowing he was going to die.

White fur flashed.

A nightwolf leaped.

Suntai yelped a battle cry, swung her sword from her saddle, and raced on. Blood flew in a curtain.

The Verilish rider's head drooped, revealing a cut that all but severed his head. The man collapsed upon the saddle, tugging the reins and driving his bear sideways to smash into another one of the beasts.

Cam leaped to his feet and stood above Linee; the queen still lay on the ground, whimpering. He raised his dented shield and sword, prepared for more fighting, and gaped.

The battle raged on without him. The three nightwolves—Suntai atop one, the two others fighting riderless—were tearing into the enemy. Two bears and riders already lay dead, their blood trickling. As Cam watched, eyes wide, Suntai leaped from her wolf's saddle. She rose several feet in the air, then plunged, her sword pointing downward. She landed atop a bear, driving her blade into the poor beast. Her shield drove upward, crashing into the bear rider's neck, tearing open the flesh. As both rider and bear collapsed, Suntai leaped again and landed back upon her wolf.

"By Idar's beard," Cam whispered, standing with his sword raised, feeling rather unnecessary as Suntai tore into the enemy like a fox tearing through a chicken coop. Linee finally rose to her feet and stood beside him, gaping. She drew her dagger—the one Bailey had given her back in the city—and held the blade before her.

As they watched, Suntai drove her wolf into another bear. Blood sprayed. Her face splashed with her enemy's blood, Suntai turned toward the last surviving bear.

The shaggy Verilish beast was battling Telshuan, the brown nightwolf, pack animal of their expedition; sacks of food, rolled up blankets, and packages of oil and candles still covered the wolf's back. The bear was a towering thing, scarred and one-eyed, the largest of the beasts. Blood soaked the nightwolf's fur.

Suntai leaped from her saddle. She landed atop the one-eyed bear and swung her sword, slicing into the rider. Its master dead, the bear reared, howled, and slammed its paws into Telshuan's muzzle.

The brown nightwolf whimpered and fell, face lacerated. Suntai still stood atop the bear, driving her blade into its flesh. The beast fell atop Telshuan, biting at the nightwolf even as Suntai stabbed it again and again.

Both animals fell still.

Suntai stood upon the furry corpses, panting. She gazed around, eyes wild.

All her enemies lay dead around her.

"Telshuan . . ." Suntai whispered. She leaped off the bear and knelt. The brown nightwolf lay crushed under his enemy, only his head visible; no life filled his eyes.

"Telshuan!" Suntai cried, voice hoarse. She tossed back her head and howled at the moon.

Cam bit his lip, standing several yards away, daring not approach. Linee moved gripped his hand; her lips wobbled but she made not a sound.

"Suntai," Cam said softly; the woman was whispering and touching the dead wolf's face. "Suntai, I'm sorry. I—"

The wolfrider raised her head, and Cam took a step back, the breath leaving his lungs. Suntai's eyes blazed with rage. Her lips peeled back in a horrible snarl in her bloodied face. She leaped to her feet, drew a dagger, and came stomping forward.

Linee squealed and squeezed Cam's hand.

"Telshuan did not have to die," Suntai said when she reached them, voice strained. She stared at Cam, her eyes withering; Cam thought that they could burn through steel. "The girl made a noise. Now he is dead."

Linee did not speak more than a couple words in Qaelish, but she tried to stammer an apology, gesturing at the wolf. "I sorry, Suntai. I sorry. I—"

Suntai spat and thrust her blade.

A bloody line blazed to life on Linee's cheek.

Linee clutched the wound, stared for a moment in shock at her attacker, and burst into tears. She turned and ran into the darkness.

"Oh wormy sheep's livers," Cam whispered. He looked at Suntai, but the woman left him and returned to the fallen wolf. Cam stared at her for a moment longer, then spun around and began running after Linee.

He ran for a long time through the darkness, following the sound of her sobs. A thump sounded ahead, followed by a curse and whimper. A few more steps and Cam stumbled upon a lump in the darkness—Linee curled up on the ground, weeping.

Cam knelt beside her. "Linee, it's me." He touched her hair. "It's all right."

He expected her to hide her face, cower, or tremble. He gasped when she leaped up, wrapped her arms around him, and clung.

"I'm scared, Camlin," she whispered, squeezing him. "I'm so scared. I'm so sorry. You don't have to take me home anymore. You don't have to say I'm a queen. You can even call me Linlin if you want. Just please hold me. Hold me tight because I'm so scared."

He nodded and kissed her forehead. "Of course."

As the sound of Suntai praying rose behind them, he held Linee for a long time in the shadows.

 
 
CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
THE GAUNTLET

After nearly a moon
on the river, their supplies dwindling, Koyee and Torin reached the
southern coast and beheld the buffalo banners.

Koyee stood at the
prow, hand resting on her sword's pommel. Her breath left her lungs
like a deflating bellows.

"Sinyong,"
she whispered into the wind, watching the port city grow nearer. "The
southern jewel of Qaelin. The city burns."

The
Water
Spider
still sailed several miles away, but it was close enough for Koyee to
see the carnage. The hosts of sunlight surrounded the city. Their
ships sailed upon the river ahead, pushing into Sinyong like worms up
an artery. Their ground troops surrounded the city walls, sprawling
across the plains—footmen, horsemen, and charioteers, thousands in
all. Their banners rose high—not the raven banners that had flown in
Pahmey, but ones sporting the crimson buffalo, its horns long.

"Mageria,"
Torin said, standing beside her. His eyes darkened. "We followed
their path of rot to this pulsing heart."

"The city
still fights." Koyee's hand trembled around the hilt of her
sword. As their boat sailed closer, more details emerged. "There
is still hope for Sinyong. Look, Torin! Elorians still stand upon the
city walls."

Two halves formed
Sinyong, semi-circles clasping the river between them. A hundred
pagodas rose here, their tiled roofs topped with statues. Several
towers crumbled before Koyee's eyes. As she watched, a catapult upon
the plains hurled a boulder into a pagoda, sending statues, tiles,
and bricks crashing down. Walls surrounded the city's two halves, and
upon them stood Elorians in armor, firing arrows and cannons. Lights
blazed like lightning. Cannonballs crashed like thunder.

"How will we
sail through?" Torin said. "Damn it. Is there another way
to the sea?"

Koyee stared
grimly. Their boat still sailed two or three miles away, but soon the
river would take them through Sinyong and its raging battle. Where
the river flowed between the city's halves, the combat blazed
brightest. Fifty ships or more sailed there; a few were Elorian
junks, but most were the carracks of Timandra, the crimson buffalo
upon their sails. Walls and towers rose along the riverbanks, many
soldiers upon them, forming a canyon. Arrows and cannonfire crashed
down onto the enemy ships, a gauntlet of flame and steel and blood.
Bolts of black fire blasted out from Mageria's vessels, dark magic
that crashed into towers and sent them crumbling. Koyee couldn't even
glimpse the sea beyond the port; the battle curtained the view.

"We'll have to
sail through," Koyee said, feeling the blood drain from her
face. "It's the only way to the sea. It's the only way we can
row south to Ilar."

Torin winced. "It's
a damn bloodbath in there. We'll wait until the battle ends at
least." He pointed ahead. "Nothing can survive that
gauntlet. Look at it. Every ship sailing through the city is being
pelted with arrows, fire, and death from above."

Koyee raised her
chin. "When the battle ends, Timandra will seize this city. They
will inspect every boat that sails through." She gave Torin a
wry smile. "Arrows, fire, death? The perfect distraction for a
sneaky little boat like ours."

They sailed closer.
The city loomed less than a mile away now. The smell of gunpowder,
oil, and dust wafted on the wind. A dozen Magerian ships rose ahead,
each boasting three masts, many sails, and hulls lined with men in
dark robes. Elorian soldiers raced across towers above, clad in
scales, firing from silvery bows. Arrows pelted the enemy ships;
several Magerians clutched their chests and fell. Others stretched
out their hands, shouting words in a foreign tongue. Dark fumes
blasted out from the men's fingers, shooting toward a stone tower.
Where the smoke hit, bricks twisted like wet cloth. The tower
creaked. The Elorian guards screamed between the battlements, and
Koyee winced to see their breastplates shatter and their heads crack.