The Sacred Band (39 page)

Ask it, Dariel thought. Ask it. He had his answer ready.

Yoen straightened and looked around at the gathered company, finally taking them all in. “I don’t just ask for me, of course. It’s for all of us.”

“Yes,” Dariel said.

“But I have not asked it yet.”

“My answer is yes.” Dariel looked from face to face around the circle, at friends he felt he knew well and others he had only just met. It didn’t matter that he had not known any of them a few months ago, or that he didn’t know exactly what Yoen was going to ask. It didn’t even matter that Yoen had thrust a knife into his belly. If anything, that act had just brought Dariel closer to them. He had already decided. For each of them he had the same answer.

“Yes.”

And then a question of his own. “When do we start?”

High, high above, looking down at the patchy view allowed through the layers of clouds, Mena and Elya flew the length of the invading army. The Auldek force crawled across the frozen world, a slow-moving stain on the white landscape, with wheeled structures the size of large buildings; dots that were people; and numerous animals of varying sizes, beasts she feared would be entirely new to the Known World. The trail of trodden snow and debris that marked their progress stretched behind them in a wavering line that had no end. She and Elya turned and circled back.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” Mena said, more to herself than to Elya, who sailed on, her wingbeats a steady rhythm. “All the time and training, the work of opening Tahalian, hearing the Scav’s story … beneath it all I still hoped it was for nothing.”

That possibility had just ended. The tiny figures below her, which were as small as ants from her height, confirmed this. She felt uneasy above them. It was unlikely that any would see her, hidden as she was among the banks of cloud, the gray sky dull above her. Still, she felt watched each time she passed through a clear patch. She remembered to keep her eyes scanning the air around her. If the Auldek really did have flying creatures, she saw no sign of them.

She tried to estimate their numbers. She could not do so with precision. Thousands. Tens of thousands, enough to fill the Calathrock with more to spare. Enough to fill all Mein Tahalian. She wondered how many of them were Auldek and if it was true, as the league had claimed, that they carried extra lives within them, making them almost impossible to kill. She circled a third time, aware that she was delaying but also using the extra moments to plan her next move.

And what might that be? What if she flew down and landed in the middle of the war column, announcing herself with one of Maeben’s screams? Or she could touch down before the army and brew a pot of tea as she waited for them to draw up to her. She rather liked that idea. Let them see she had a sense of humor. Let them know that Acacia was not afraid of them. Only that would not be true, and she was not confident she could pull the deception off.

No, she would do no more than spy on them, and then turn south bearing news of them. “Let’s make this quick,” she said, patting Elya on the shoulder. “Let’s go lower. We might as well get a good look. Corinn will complain if we don’t.”

Elya adjusted the tilt of her wings. They dropped through the bank of cloud. Mena was still not used to the sensation. The material of the clouds looked so tangible, thick and almost solid, as if they should be able to land atop it. Instead, it turned to wet vapor before their touch. Mena licked it from her lips and tried to ignore the chill bite. It was so near to freezing that for a few moments she leaned her face against Elya’s neck, feeling her warmth, coating her cheeks with the lemony scent of Elya’s oils.

Mena had just straightened to check their position when, without warning, Elya corkscrewed in the air. It was so fast that Mena’s head snapped to the side. “Elya!” she called from upside down, her hands grasping for purchase as she slipped partway out of the harness. “Elya, what—”

The thing hit them with incredible force. It impacted from above, driving Elya downward. She and Elya twirled as they plummeted, the air a roar around them. Each cloud hit them with physical force, as if they were smashing again and again through a body of water. Mena thought, I knew it. The clouds are firm. They have substance. But it was the briefest of thoughts, gone in an instant.

Something fell with them, some sort of beast that Mena only caught glimpses of. It bellowed and grunted. Elya hissed in response. The two of them struggled, clasped together and fighting. It was larger than Elya, hairless and thickly muscled, with enormous wings. It had a flat face that looked vaguely like an ape’s and a mouth of incisors that once came close enough to snap at the princess. It was all bulk and weight compared to Elya’s sinewy length. It wore a chain about its neck, thick and decorative, with a large amulet dangling from it. Elya kicked the beast away. It came back a moment later, lashing with a closed fist that smashed the side of Elya’s head. All three of them somersaulted wildly.

Mena caught a glimpse of the invading army below them, so near. Then she lost all sense of direction, dizzied by the spinning, confused by the flapping of wings and the roars of the attacking creature. She knew the ground rushed up to them. She tried to connect with Elya, but her fight was too frantic. All Mena could do was hang on. Then the monster released them. It broke free at the last moment, using the force of their tumbling to send Mena and Elya hurtling for the icy ground.

Elya flared her wings enough to slow them a little, but still they landed hard, just missing the rear of one rolling structure and crashing down on the trodden tundra. The impact snapped one of the buckles on Elya’s harness. Mena twisted off to one side, one leg loose in the straps and the other pinched painfully by them. The flying monster roared in just behind them, touching the ground for a second and then leaping up. It thrashed its massive arms in threat; gnashed the air with its teeth; grinned at them, bug-eyed and crazed.

Mena tried to keep an eye on it as she scrabbled to get her seat back, but she was so tangled and Elya was moving and hissing so fiercely that she could not keep track of the creature. Beyond it, another of the rolling structures moved toward them, coming on like a fortress on wheels. Mena clamped down as best she could, half in her harness, a clump of Elya’s skin and feathers gripped savagely in one hand.
Fly!
she thought.

Just then another beast announced itself. It slashed at Elya before crashing to the ground. It danced away a few steps, then skirted them, drawing up opposite the other of its kind. It came back toward them snarling, crouched on its hind legs. Like the first, it was naked except for a thick chain and medallion on its neck, snug against the muscled flesh.

Fly!
Mena commanded.

Another skimmed Elya’s head as it landed. And another. Each time Elya’s muscles tensed to leap, a beast dropped from above. Others now beat the air above them. In among the bestial cries came a human voice. It spoke guttural words that Mena could not understand. Then she picked him out. An Auldek rode strapped to the back of one of the hovering monsters. He was directing the others. Perhaps his commands were the only thing stopping the beasts from ripping into them. His mount landed among the others, shouldering its way savagely to clear a space for itself. A moment later the rider sprang to the ground. He shouted something and gestured. As he walked toward Mena and Elya, the monsters rose, bellowed and stomped, and then leaped one after another into the air.

As the creatures lifted, the view they had hidden snapped into place. Mena saw soldiers coming in from all directions. The war column slowed fitfully to a halt. Armed, fur-covered shapes poured out of hastily thrown-open hatches, steam billowing as they emerged. Still others flowed between the structures. Mena half thought the fly command, but the winged monsters circled above. She stroked Elya’s neck and soothed her. The mount did not settle. Her crest feathers made a jagged crown, her serpentine neck coiled and vicious.

Mena kept whispering to Elya as she pulled free of her buckles and slid down to the ground. Her left leg throbbed, but she did not betray it. She took a few steps forward, stood straight with her shoulders back. She tugged the mitten from her sword hand and took hold of the hilt of the King’s Trust. She waited like that as the enemy army crowded around her.

“Steady, Elya,” she said. To the invaders she called, “I am Princess Mena Akaran of Acacia. I speak for the queen. Who speaks for you?”

They barely acknowledged that she had said anything. They inched closer, pushed in as more arrived. They spoke among themselves in their own guttural tongue. The sounds were like threats and accusations, animal and wild, spoken from furred, tall beings, most hooded against the cold, their faces hidden from the dull winter light. They were not all Auldek. Mena could see humans among them—many, in fact—but they spoke and gestured with a fierceness akin to their masters’. Elya spread her wings. The crowd only swayed back a moment, and the flying beasts nipped from above, forcing her to fold in.

The uproar died down when several new arrivals pushed to the edge of the circle. A man stepped out in front of the others, followed by a woman nearly his height. He was tall, like most Numrek, but when he pushed back his hood Mena saw that his hair was auburn, thick, and long. He ran his fingers through it to loosen it, and then set his intense gaze on Mena. He carried a sheathed long sword in one big-knuckled hand, but he showed not the slightest intention of drawing it. The woman wore no headgear. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her cheekbones high and distinctive. Their features were not so physically dissimilar from that of the Numrek Mena had known, but the demeanor behind them was different, calmly intelligent, at ease in a manner no Numrek’s had ever been.

Auldek, Mena thought. Not Numrek.

As if to verify this, Calrach appeared behind the man. The Numrek’s face was a blunt twist of angry surprise. “Akaran,” he said, his accent thick with disgust. “You stupid bitch!”

Mena shifted her posture, ready to draw her sword.

“Princess Mena?” another voice said, in clear Acacian this time. A man squirmed between the two warriors and stood beside the Auldek’s shoulder. Despite the fantastic strangeness of it, Mena recognized him immediately. Rialus Neptos. “Is it really you? By the Giver—”

The Auldek snapped at him in his language.

“Yes, yes,” Rialus sputtered. He switched to the foreign tongue. Mena understood none of it, save when he said her name. The Auldek’s eyes widened at it, his interest gaining substance. The woman’s, in contrast, narrowed.

“Princess,” Rialus said, “what are you doing here?”

Elya hissed and snapped at one of the flying creatures.

Looking up, Mena said, “Tell them to call those things off. I can’t talk with them above us.”

“Oh, yes, the fréketes,” Rialus said. “They are vile. I’ll ask Howlk to call them back.” He spoke Auldek to the man who had been riding one of the creatures. The Auldek man looked up, bemused, as if he had not noticed the circling monsters. It was the woman who barked a command. Several others picked it up. Noisy moments passed, but eventually the fréketes flew away. Most came to rest at vantage points on the now still carriage buildings.

Attention back on her, Mena cleared her throat. She released her sword hilt. Considering how outnumbered she was, gripping it could show weakness instead of strength. She tried to find a different place for her hand to settle. She kept the focus of her eyes deliberate: her gaze on Rialus, on the Auldek directly in front of her.

“Rialus Neptos,” she said, “we must do this correctly. Introduce me to them, and them to me—if these be their monarchs.”

“Oh, they don’t have monarchs,” Rialus said. “Clan chieftains, yes, but that’s not the same as—”

The Auldek man nudged him. If Mena had not been so tense, she might have been amused. Even if he could not understand Acacian, the Auldek knew a Neptos ramble gaining speed when he heard one.

Rialus spoke Numrek—Auldek, Mena corrected—again. A few moments later, he turned back to Mena. “They understand who you are. This man is Devoth of the clan Lvin. This woman is Sabeer, his wife. They are … like monarchs, in a way. There are chieftains from other clans as well, though. It’s complicated. You see, there are—” Devoth clicked his tongue. Rialus spoke rapidly. “Yes, yes, you can speak to them. There are no higher among them.”

“What of you?” Mena asked. “Can I trust you to speak my words as I say them? You have betrayed your country, after all.”

Rialus looked stricken. “No! Never. I am a prisoner among them!” He said this last with his voice slightly lowered. A strange action, for it was still easy enough for the others to hear. “I am faithful. The queen can be assured of it. Tell her that if you get back to her. I—I always work to … deter them. It’s not easy, though.”

“No, I don’t imagine so.” Mena pursed her lips. What choice did she have but to use this man as her translator? “Tell him I speak for the Empire of Acacia and for all the Known World. By Queen Corinn’s charge, I demand to know their purpose here.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Calrach said, gesturing around him. “See with your eyes.”

“Rialus,” Mena asked, jutting her chin at the Numrek chieftain, “has this one any status here?”

Rialus considered. Shrugged. “Not much.”

“Good. Then tell him to shut his mouth. He has no status in Acacia either. No status. No kin. They are all dead.”

“You lie.”

Mena crossed her arms as he spoke. “I killed the assassins sent to slay Prince Aaden myself. We butchered Greduc and Codeth in the Carmelia. My Marah and I cut them to pieces. I wish you had been there to see.”

“Do not believe her, Devoth,” Calrach said. “My clan is in a fortress that cannot be taken. They await word of us to begin a new slaughter.” He seemed to catch late that he was speaking Acacian. He switched to his own tongue.

“That plug of stone in Teh? That was no protection. Corinn called Crannag to the field and used her sorcery against them. They all died, Calrach. Your clan is no more.”