Lance of Earth and Sky (The Chaos Knight Book Two) (13 page)

“Enough of this rot,” one of the knights sneered and loosed his steed, slapping it on the hip. “Kill that mongrel.”

The steed reared, and now Vidarian could see from its flattened ears and wide eyes that it was upset, not enraged—but so on edge that it obeyed this command from its rider, and leapt at Rai.

Vidarian cried out hoarsely, first in objection, then in surprise. As the steed leapt, it changed shape—hooved feet curled under, shortening into clawed paws, its tail stretched out and collapsed into a coiling thing, and its head pulled inward, growing larger eyes, broader ears, and teeth. As it landed, snarling, it was a striped cat, a huge one, with wings more sleek and compact than it had in its native horse shape. It lashed out at Rai with a clawed paw.

Rai, far from abandoning his charges, leapt back at the steed—and changed. Massive wings spread from his shoulders, feathered and striped green like his spines; he grew and his paws thickened, his tail lengthened, until he, too, was a winged cat, pacing in an arc around his foe.

The knights all shouted again, in mingled astonishment and fury, while Vidarian tried to make sense of what he'd just seen. The two cats were growling at each other and circling, here and there lashing out with a claw, but neither striking true.

When he regained control of his senses, Vidarian staggered out into the field, stumbling between the two great, hissing creatures. He reached out with his water sense, but immediately recoiled, falling to his knees. All his elemental sensitivity, too, was “burned,” and far worse than his body. It seemed an eternity before the wave of misery passed, and he pushed himself back to his feet again, lifting his hands between Rai and the steed.

She dies!
Rai cried again, and roared as he did so, a terrifying sound that cut straight to the ancestral prey creature in all of them. Thalnarra, not quite so affected, rushed over to the hatchlings and spread her wings over them.

“Who can save her?” Vidarian asked Rai, facing him down, trying to block him from seeing the still-snarling steed behind him.

He felt the pulse of Rai's surprise, and then, immediately, a picture: the older steward's girl. Brannon's sister.

“Bran!” Vidarian shouted, “Fetch your sister! Quickly!” He had no idea how she might heal the royal hatchling, but at the very least it would calm Rai down. Brannon yelled something and dashed off toward the palace.

“You've no right to do this!” One of the knights cried, and the others called agreement.

“Hardly,” Vidarian agreed, fatigue beginning to catch up with him in earnest and attempt to force him to the ground. He grit his teeth. “But seeing as you lot were making such a mess of it…”

They started shouting again, enraged, but an arcing line of fire rose up from the ground in front of them, flames licking hungrily toward the necks of the steeds. Vidarian turned, and Thalnarra dipped her beak in acknowledgment. She was still crouched over the little royal, and radiated a steady fury.

Running footsteps sounded, and the girl who had first greeted them in the city arrived two steps ahead of her brother, looking surprised and a little afraid. She skidded to a stop when she saw the battling steeds, the line of fire, the gryphon—and Brannon pushed her, murmuring something urgent. The girl colored, and she turned to leave, but Brannon grabbed her hand and hauled her bodily toward Thalnarra and the little royal.

Vidarian had just long enough to worry that the girl wouldn't know what to do—how could she?—but then, as soon as she caught sight of the hatchling, she broke away from Brannon and rushed toward it, crouching, reaching out to comfort it, heedless of Thalnarra's presence. And for its part the little royal stumbled toward her, lowing.

The royal's eyes flashed blue, bright enough for Vidarian to see even at this distance—and he was reminded suddenly of the way the setting sun had caught the kitten's eyes when Ariadel had first picked it up, so long ago at the dockside in Val Harlon. Or rather, he
thought
it had been the sun…

Now that it was done, Thalnarra slowly lowered the fire-line, and the cat-steed returned to its original shape and paced back over to its rider, its head low. The rider glowered at Vidarian, ignoring his steed. “You've started a war,
Captain
. Not in a hundred years—”

//
Only that long?
// Thalnarra interrupted, laying down on the packed dirt of the field, her body still curled protectively around the royal hatchling and her new rider. A pulse of heat emanated from her, almost lazy, and stirred the smoke that still crept upward from where she'd scorched the ground.

The man purpled, muttered several things under his breath, and stomped off, leaving the other knights to calm their steeds and follow him. The steeds themselves had besieged expressions, if such could be said for horses; their ears lay flat and they held their heads low, wings drooping. All of them stared at the hatchlings, clearly drawn to them, but turned back toward their riders and left one by one.

Rai, still cat-shaped, pushed his head under Vidarian's hand, looking up in apology. Vidarian shook his head, as he fought against another wave of exhaustion that threatened to steal consciousness again. “You saved that creature's life.” With what little remained of his thinking mind, beneath the terrible tiredness, he turned over what Rai's new growth and intelligence meant. Had the other thornwolves been so? He thought back to their attack, and doubted it.

Brannon was crouching beside the hatched royal with his sister, whose face was tear-streaked, but not with sadness. They had lost the one hatchling, but this one survived—and the girl, whose name Vidarian still did not know, would not be returning to the steward's quarters.

“What now?” he asked Thalnarra dully.

//
I will watch over these,
// she said, extending her wing over Brannon, his sister, and the hatchling. //
Now, you go back to bed.
//

H
uge golden eyes met Vidarian's when he woke again in his palace chamber. He flinched, and they changed: shrinking and darkening, pupils widening. They became Rai's eyes, and the wide, striped cat face became the thornwolf—and barked.

The sound rattled Vidarian's skull, and as he sat up, the burning complaint of his arms and legs told him he'd again been asleep for more than a day.

Rai barked again, then yipped with surprise as he slid backwards, his claws ripping at the carpet. Brannon's head popped up when Rai was safely away from the bed; the boy had dragged the wolf away by his tail.

“Sorry, milord…Captain,” Brannon corrected his address before Vidarian could start to object. Rai lunged forward again, but the boy gamely threw his own weight against him.

“How long have I slept this time?” Vidarian asked, rubbing eyes that stung with the stiffness of disuse. The room seemed not to have changed, but Thalnarra was not there, and for a moment her absence stung like a mother's disregard.

“Three days, m…sir.” The boy grunted as Rai changed back into the winged tiger, but not with surprise. At this size Rai easily lifted the boy up and made his way back toward the bed, but Brannon swung his legs down and dug into the carpet with his heels. When this proved ineffective, he dug into his pocket, and Rai froze at the sound of crinkling waxed paper that emerged. He stopped, and Brannon gave him a bit of dried fish from the bag. Rai tore it up delicately and with full attention.

Good,
the wolf-turned-tiger offered, “sharing” with Vidarian the taste of the pungent fish. He tried not to gag.

“Would you know where Thalnarra is, by any chance?”

“In the fields out back,” Brannon said, pushing Rai's wide nose away from his pocket now. “She'll be wanting to know you're awake, sir. An' see you, even, if you're up to it.”

As if his three days of sleep had just released all of their pent-up energy into him at once, Vidarian pushed himself out of bed, anxious to discover what he had missed. His legs gave way as soon as his weight was upon them, and he swayed, thumping into the bedpost. Rai whined, and Brannon visibly swallowed a startled yelp.

Instead the boy pointed to the bed. “You should at least eat first, sir? They've sent a tray.”

After everything, it still hurt his pride to be grateful for the excuse to sit back down. Feeling was crawling back into his limbs, and not quietly; it was all he could do to remain still as his skin prickled over nerves that had turned to stinging nettles. Rai, wolf-shaped now, rested his chin on Vidarian's knee and sighed.

Brannon brought the promised tray from its place by the door and set about fussing with the linen and silver. Vidarian waved him off, then tossed him the currant-studded bread roll, ignoring Rai's accusatory stare. The boy bit into the roll and pulled more fish from his pocket to soothe the wolf's hurt feelings.

The porridge today was a lumpen one, heavy with fruit and some kind of congealed grain that tasted faintly unpleasant but must have been medicinal for the way that it rushed strength into his wasted muscles. By the end of it he was beginning to feel real alertness wake in his mind. With alertness came awareness of a certain week-long-bed-rest stench, and so he spared the time to wash thoroughly in the marble water chamber.

The hot water seemed to take off at least two layers of his skin, and so when Brannon and Rai led the way to the north parkland, the air stung his face.

It was strange to think that only ten days ago these fields beyond the north palace wall had been filled with skyships. Now only a handful remained, most actively undergoing repair. All that was left to mark the absence of the rest—which Allingworth had moved to defensive positions or currently led against the Qui—was an expanse of trampled grass and the occasional dropped tool or gangplank.

The yawning field was an uncomfortable reminder that the Imperial City itself had few defenses when it came to skyships; they were being deployed as soon as they could be discovered and their crews trained.

Rai dashed ahead as soon as their feet had touched the grass, and now bounded through the underbrush that separated one field from another.

“He seems to have even more energy than he did before.” Vidarian shaded his eyes to look ruefully after the young wolf.

*
The first change invigorates them,
* Ruby said, and Vidarian started at the sound of her voice, which was dreamlike and distant. *
He's likely relieved—like a bird molting, or a snake shedding its skin.
*

“How do you know that?”

*
It's in here.
*

“In where?”

But Ruby didn't answer. Brannon lifted his fingertips to his teeth and whistled long and loud. Rai dashed back toward them, running as fast and low to the ground as his long legs would take him.

They crossed the brush to the second field, and Altair and Thalnarra both reclined in the grasses, their wings half-spread under the midmorning sun. With them were three Sky Knight apprentices and their young steeds: the boy who had bonded to the small colt three days ago, Brannon's sister, and a gangly young girl Vidarian didn't recognize.

As they drew closer, Altair's voice reached them:

//
And if your opponent was an archer?
//

“Sky Knights are archers, too,” the boy said.

//
So you would fire on them?
// The gryphon's blue eyes pinned as he tilted his head at the boy.

“Cross-dive,” Brannon's sister—
Linnea
, Rai pushed the name on him—said, almost too quietly to hear.

Altair's tufted ear twitched in her direction. He dipped his beak, gesturing for her to continue.

“The combat training manual recommends a cross-dive against a mounted archer,” she said. Her hands were clenched around the mane of the royal foal—who had filled out nicely, and now glittered violet and green at her socks and sloping head.

//
Correct,
// Altair said. Then his aquiline head tilted toward Vidarian. //
Welcome, brother. We are assisting these young ones with their training.
//

When she caught sight of him, Linnea flushed anew, but to his surprise, she gently patted her steed on the head and then stood to advance on Vidarian.

He froze, unsure what to make of her approach. At first, she wouldn't meet his eyes, but finally she lifted her head and fixed him with a determined stare. He still wasn't sure what to expect, and never would have guessed that she would next pull a hanging pendant from her waist pocket and hand it to him.

Vidarian accepted the pendant gingerly, letting it lay across his palm. It was a simple stone oval framed in darkened steel. When he turned it, the stone gleamed with purple-black iridescence. He realized what it was, and inhaled. “Is this…?”

“It's from Trakari's eggshell,” Linnea agreed, dropping her eyes with embarrassment only for a moment. “It's a gift. If it weren't for you, she would have died.”

“You should thank Rai, really,” Vidarian said, surprised at his own diffidence. “Without him, we'd never have known that the eggs were even hatching.”

Linnea turned to face Rai, who noticed her attention and immediately bounded over to leap into her arms. She staggered under his weight and laughed with delight. Along with his shapechanging ability, Rai was learning how to more tightly control and maneuver the shocking spines, an endless relief.

//
Vidarian can teach you much about wind patterns and navigation,
// Thalnarra said.

“I'd be pleased to,” he said, addressing both of them. “But your wingleader wouldn't want you here, I'd wager.” The girl flushed, confirming his suspicion, but her jaw firmed.

“There's nothing we can learn from the other knights,” Linnea said, and beneath the steel of her defiance was a wounded heart that cut at Vidarian's own. “They won't say I'm a real rider, and anyway they spend their days drunk into stupidity.”

“What happened to them?” Vidarian asked. The knights were clearly in a shambles, but no one had yet explained why.

“Their steeds are rebelling,” the other boy said, pushing himself to his feet. “Half of 'em can't even get in the saddle. They're trying to hide it, though.”

“The old ways aren't working, not since the steeds started shapechanging,” Linnea agreed.

“And getting smarter.” The boy reached down to scratch between the ears of his foal.

“Well,” Vidarian said, extending his hand for Linnea's royal to sniff, “we can certainly do something about that. I seem to have surrounded myself with excessively intelligent creatures.”

Altair snorted, a strange sound from his hooked beak, and called them all back to his combat puzzles.

//
You are performing courier duty, flying at three bars' height…
//

They practiced and played and lay in the sun until afternoon faded into evening and the sun was beginning to fall behind the trees. The oldest apprentice had a fully-grown sky steed; Rai and the steed wrestled in their winged cat forms, winning whoops and whistles of delight even from the two gryphons.

Just as Vidarian was going to present the apprentices with a navigation puzzle his father had begun his own lessons with as a boy, a portly imperial messenger came trotting into the field, panting with fatigue.

“Captain Rulorat,” the man said between breaths, relieved and just a touch annoyed. For a moment Vidarian worried that word had gotten back to the Sky Knights that he and the gryphons were instructing their apprentices, but then the man pulled a cream envelope from his sleeve. “The emperor was pleased to hear of your recovery, and invites you to dine this evening—and witness a musical performance by the miraculous metal creature called Iridan.”

“Iridan?” Vidarian said, forgetting for a moment his anxiety. “Music?”

His disbelief cracked the messenger's marble veneer. “Damndest thing, is't not, milord? I'm told the music is the most amazing you'll ever hear. Makes grown men cry, and babes sleep as though enchanted.”

//
We should send these younglings back to their stable. Doubtless they'll be doing chores into the night as it is.
//

The messenger jumped when Thalnarra spoke, but made an admirably quick recovery, turning to give her and Altair a little bow. “I'm given to understand you both were of critical assistance at the Lehrian border engagement. We're all deeply grateful.”

//
You speak like a soldier, sirrah.
//

He drew himself up. “I was, milady. And may be so again, with what's been brewing.”

“With Qui? I should think the imperial forces…” Vidarian trailed off at the man's solemn expression.

“Not just Qui, Captain.” His voice lowered. “There's rumors of rebellion in the western provinces. Attacks—sabotage.”

“I'd heard none of this,” Vidarian said, turning to Thalnarra and Altair, who also twitched their beaks in agreement.

“It's rumor,” the messenger allowed, “but the kind as usually turns out truer than not, ye ken?”

Vidarian nodded, and caught the worried looks of the three apprentices. “The emperor surely is acting on them even as we speak.”

They murmured loyal agreement, and the cloud over their expressions lifted slightly. More, at the moment, would be difficult to ask.