Legacy of Kings (54 page)

“Tell me about the mating flight.”

“Why? Siderea’s queen is still a juvenile. No matter how fast she’s maturing, she won’t have the size or the strength needed for her first flight this soon. As long as we move quickly we should be fine.”

“Indulge me,” she said softly.

He shut his eyes and sighed. For a moment he just stood there, so still in aspect that it seemed his mind had left his flesh. Then, very quietly, he began to speak.

“It begins with a call. The queen takes to the sky and declares her intent; the sound of it carries for miles. It’s somewhat like the cry that the Guardians imitate, but it’s not a call to combat. There’s also a smell that fills the air, like her own natural scent but ten times more powerful; it can be detected by Souleaters a hundred miles away. Their response is instinctive. All-consuming. Wherever they are, whatever they are doing, male Souleaters will put their business aside and come to her. The summons is woven into the very fabric of their being, and not even human intelligence can override it.

“And so they are all drawn to the same place, at the same time. Back when the species was wild, that alone was enough to get many of them killed. Much blood was spilled before a flight even began. These days the creatures are marginally more tolerant of one another—and they may have improved further in that regard since last I saw them—but it’s still a dangerous time. Bloodthirst and sex are so closely allied in that species that it would take more than mere human will to separate them.

“Are their human partners with them during all this?”

“Gods, no! Getting caught in the middle of that chaos is dangerous enough with spikes and claws; a man would not last five minutes. No, the men generally try to find somewhere safe to wait it out, preferably far away from each other. Channeling that kind of energy doesn’t do good things to human relationships. Often they will go into a sort of trance, opening themselves up to the full sensory experience of their Souleater’s flight. You don’t want rivals around when you do that.” He paused. “Not unlike a Magister’s fear of having rivals present when he goes into transition.

“Finally, when enough males have gathered, the queen takes flight, and they pursue her. She is lighter and faster than they are, so if she keeps to open skies, none of them can catch her. Ostensibly it’s the strongest and most capable one who will lead the pack and eventually be rewarded with mating rights. But the males are known to swipe at each other along the way, to try to gain advantage, and sometimes actual combat breaks out. A queen may even encourage that, doubling back and forth in such a way that the paths of her suitors cross.” He shrugged stiffly. “As I said . . . bloodthirst and sex.

“The fact that she can turn their attention away from her allows her to elude any unwanted suitor who gets too close. It’s difficult for her to hide herself fully at that point—their attention is too firmly fixed on her for true invisibility to be possible—but she can cause them to become disoriented, which has much the same result.”

“What happens when she does that?”

He looked at her. “What do you think happens when all the energy that was centered on pursuing a mate suddenly has no proper focus?” He shut his eyes; a tremor seemed to run through his body. “I have seen fields of snow turn to crimson in the wake of such a flight. I remember one time we lost nearly a third of the colony.”

“It sounds like a good way to get rid of a few Souleaters. Not to mention draw them away from Jezalya while the battle is going on.”

“It would be,” he agreed. “But as I said, Siderea’s queen is still a juvenile. There’d be no way to get her to declare a flight, much less actually fly it.”

She said it softly: “I wasn’t talking about the Souleater queen.”

It took a moment for her meaning to sink in; when he realized what she meant, his eyes widened in alarm. “Surely you can’t be suggesting what I think you are.”

“Why not? You told me I had the essence of a Souleater queen within me. I know I can tap into her power. Why can’t I mimic her form as well? Then I can summon the males to a mating flight myself and draw them away from the battleground. Hopefully long enough for Salvator’s people to do what they need to.” When he said nothing, she pressed, “Wouldn’t that solve the problem?”

“Kamala.” His voice was very quiet. “This isn’t a simple shapeshifting experiment we’re talking about. There is a part of your soul for which this form is natural and human flesh is alien. Thus far that part has been buried deeply within you, manifesting as little more than a metaphysical echo, but there’s no guarantee it will stay that way. What happens when you give it the freedom it hungers for and the body it longs to possess? Are you so sure you’ll be able to change back after that?”

“Colivar.” She reached out a hand to touch his cheek. She could feel his tension beneath her fingertips, muscles tightly controlled as he sought to keep his expression from revealing too much to her. “I understand why you’re so concerned, but remember . . . I’m human. I’ve never been anything but human. If this . . . this Souleater essence . . . takes on a life of its own, then I will fight it off as I would fight off any other possession. Do you doubt my tenacity in such a contest?”

In answer he reached up and took her hand away from his cheek. She thought that he hesitated a moment before releasing it, but it was hard to be sure. “Ignoring for the moment your boundless self-confidence, there are practical considerations here. Think back to when you first learned to shapeshift. Do you not remember how you stumbled the first time you had to walk on four legs? Or how the wind buffeted you about the first time you took on winged form, until you learned how to ride it properly? Each form carries within it the instinct necessary for it to function, but that doesn’t mean we can access it right away. It takes time and practice. The more alien the form is to our own, the harder it is to adapt, and the longer it takes.

“The Souleaters are unlike any creatures you’ve ever replicated before. The nature of their flight has nothing in common with that of birds or bats, so the fact that you’ve mastered those forms won’t help you at all. The subtle currents of air and heat that a bird rides are meaningless to an ikati; its wings stir up currents independent of the wind, powerful enough to lift that massive body without need for forward motion. Different muscles. Different dynamics.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t have any time to practice. Your very life would depend upon your ability to fly perfectly from the start, and you can’t do that without prior knowledge of how an ikati body functions.”

“No,” she said softly. Her voice a whisper. “I would need to get that knowledge from someone who already possessed it.”

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. When he did so, he recoiled as if he had been struck, and all the color drained from his face. “You cannot ask that of me.”

“Who else has what I need, Colivar?” When he didn’t respond she pressed, “Who else has smelled the perfume of a mating queen—who else has heard the call to flight as a Souleater performs it—has else felt the beat of those great wings, the flexing of the muscles that drive them? Or do I mistake the nature of the bond you shared? Did you not experience those things along with your consort?”

“You don’t understand the risk,” he whispered fiercely. Turning away from her.

“I just need to share your memories,” she told him. “Nothing more. You wouldn’t be transforming into an ikati. Or inviting one into your brain. However terrible your memories may be—whatever instincts you fear they may awaken in you—surely they’re still just that: memories.”

“They’re
not
terrible,” he whispered. “That’s the point.”

“And are you telling me that you haven’t ever dreamed of that time? That you’ve never surrendered to those memories in your sleep, so that for an hour you thought you were back there? Yes? Didn’t you awaken after that? Shaken, perhaps, but still human?” She paused. “You won’t be able to escape the ghosts of your past until the last of the Souleaters is gone, Colivar. And this may be the only way to get rid of them.” When he still said nothing, she pressed, “Do you have a better suggestion?”

For a long moment he stared out into the distance. “No,” he said finally. “No. I do not.”

Slowly he turned back to her. “Once,” he said. “I will do this only once. If that’s not enough for you, you’ll need to find some other source of information. Or come up with another plan.”

She nodded solemnly. “Agreed.”

He lifted a hand to her face and placed it against her cheek; his sorcery should not require such a thing, but she guessed he was doing it to help him focus.

“You will have to let me in,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded, closed her eyes to shut out all distractions, and tried to take down enough of her defenses for him to make direct contact with her mind. It was harder than it had been with Ramirus. She’d been battered and weak back then, and she had needed to submit to him in order to survive. Now she was strong, and her survival instincts rebelled at the mere thought of letting another Magister into her mind. Even Colivar.

But if she wanted to be able to draw off the Souleaters, then she had to do this. And so, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she turned her awareness inward and stripped herself of all the spells that normally protected her from others of her kind. She could feel his sorcery taking its place, moving into her soul, and she gritted her teeth as she struggled not to resist it.

Then the memories came pouring in.

Clouds like icy knives score his flesh as he plunges through them—

Rivals on every side screech their mating challenge to the wind—

Teeth pierce through his tail. He shakes them off. His own tail whips through the air, driving its blades into the offender. His serpentine body twists in its flight like an agile dancer, compensating for the motion. Wings shift their angle. Flight is steady once more.

He howls out his own challenge, rage and lust and bloodthirst combined, but does not look back. His lead over the others is fragile, and one moment’s inattention might cause it to be lost. He must stay ahead of the others. He has no choice. He must fly faster and harder and higher than all of the others, even if he expends the last ounce of his strength in doing so. Even if he dies in doing so. There is no other action possible for him.

How hard it is hard to fly in the cold, dim sunlight! Frozen muscles struggle to move the great wings; flight that should be fluid and painless is torment. His lower wings beat the air with frenetic energy, creating roiling whirlwinds to support him. His upper wings stretch out into the frozen sky, struggling to stabilize his flight. The scent of the queen surrounds him, envelops him, maddens him. Her cry resonates in the air, stirring his blood. In the wake of such things no rational thought is possible. Hunger pounds in his veins, more terrible than anything he has ever known, and he must satisfy it or die in the attempt—

The flow of memories ceased so suddenly that it left Kamala gasping for breath. For a moment her mind could not adjust to the shift in reality, and she stumbled. Strong hands grasped her by the arms, holding her upright. She trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of being human once more. Already it seemed an alien thing to her.

Shaken, she looked up into Colivar’s eyes. How dark they were, how haunted! So much pain in their depths. And desire. So much desire. The madness of the ikati had faded from his mind, but she could sense the human hunger that had taken its place. For a moment they just stared at each other, wordlessly aware of how close they were to one another, equally loath to move away.

“I didn’t expect the pain,” she whispered.

“They need the sun on their wings. We trapped them in a place starved of sunlight. The ones that were born there have never known anything else.”

The moon was rising. It reflected in his eyes.

“Do you have what you need now?” he asked.
Because I cannot go there again
, his expression said plainly.

She nodded. In truth, it was not as much as she had hoped for. But it would have to be enough. She would make it enough. She would replay the memory in her mind, over and over, until she knew the feel of the ikati’s body as well as she knew her own. Until the motions of its flight were as familiar to her as breathing, and the scent and cry of a queen’s flight were second nature to her.

“Yes,” she whispered. Raising a hand to his face, brushing back a lock of jet-black hair that had fallen across it. His cheek was warm, and it seemed to her that he trembled slightly as her fingers brushed against it. So much hunger. So tightly controlled. What had it been like for him in the first days of his exile, when human memories had been no more than a distant echo? How did a man hang on to sanity when his soul and his flesh were no longer in agreement?

We are the harvest of your madness,
she thought.

For a moment he did not respond to her. Then he reached up to catch hold of her hand, drawing it away from her cheek. His heart was pounding so hard she could feel the blood pulse in his palm, but in his eyes there was only sadness. He put her hand down by her side and let go, then moved back from her ever so slightly, so they were no longer close. A single inch. A thousand miles.

“Why?” she asked.

A shadow of pain flickered in his eyes.

“Because I’m not sure which part of me wants you,” he told her. “Or why.”

Before she had a chance to respond, he transformed himself. Black wings flurried in the air before her—a single feather brushed her cheek in passing as he rose up—and then he was gone.

She watched him head out over the plain, his wings rising and falling in a simple rhythm, until the currents of the evening wind carried him out of sight.

Chapter 32

M

ASTER FAVIAS and the High King were together when Shina found them, conferring in a small tent near the edge of Salvator’s military encampment. Just before entering it, she stopped for a moment, closed her eyes, and tried to bring the fluttering of her heart under some semblance of control. Not until she felt she was calm enough to do what she had come to do did she continue on to the tent itself and greet the guards outside.