by Alex Raizman
She kicked the tree as hard as she could. The branches shook, and the hammer fell free. Tythel picked it up off the ground, activated it, and swung for the tree as hard as she could. The combined force of her swing and the force that activated when she struck cracked the truck in half, and with a groan the tree collapsed to a chorus of splintering branches.
From there, it was easy to pick the pack off the branches.
“Did you really need to break the tree?” Eupheme asked, a strained smile breaking through the pain. That’s a smile I’m getting all too good at recognizing, Tythel thought as her nictitating membranes slid closed in a moment of sadness. Spending as much time as she had around soldiers, the sickly grins of the injured trying to put on a brave face were seared into her mind.
“No,” Tythel admitted. “When all you have is a hammer…” She didn’t finish the idiom. It was enough to get a laugh out of Eupheme as Tythel rummaged through pack for the blanket. “What now?” Tythel asked, holding it up for Eupheme to see.
“Throw it over me.”
Tythel blinked in confusion. “Cold?” she asked.
Eupheme shook her head. “Please,” she asked.
Tythel’s eyes widened as she grasped it and tossed the blanket over Eupheme. It collapsed onto an empty bush, and Eupheme stepped out from behind a nearby tree. “Oh yeah,” she hissed. “That’s…that’s broken. Flath that hurts. Do you know how to do a splint?”
Tythel shook her head. “Talk me through it?” she asked. The idea of helping set a bone was uncomfortable, but the idea of letting Eupheme’s pain get worse was intolerable.
Eupheme nodded and sat down with Tythel’s help. “We’re going to need some sticks. Ones about as thick as my finger, and as straight as you can find. Ones that will run the entire length of my arm.” Eupheme managed another one of those pained smiled. “The good news is, someone just created a whole mess of sticks for us.”
Tythel looked over to the tree she had just felled and flushed. “Right.”
As many options as she had, Tythel felt it should have been easy to find some that met their requirements. However, most of the sticks Tythel was finding were too thin, or too thick, or too bent and twisted. She tossed another pair aside in irritation. “These?” she asked, holding a couple up for Eupheme.
Eupheme regarded then critically. “The one on the left will work,” she finally said.
Having a template of what to look for speed things up a bit. By the end of it, Tythel had gathered one stick that was perfect for their needs, and three that would work when bundled together. From there, the rest was relatively simple. The blanket that provided a way for Eupheme to get out from the bush was shredded, strips wrapped around the sticks to prevent splinters and around Eupheme’s arm to keep the pressure from being too great. “It’s still going to hurt,” Eupheme explained, “but it will hurt less, and heal better in the long term. The whole goal is to immobilize everything.
The final step was the worst, tightening the cloth around both wrist and stick to hold them in place. Even with everything they had done to reduce pressure, there was no way for it to not send lances of pain through Eupheme’s wrist whenever Tythel tried to tighten it.
“I’m sorry,” Tythel whispered as she let go of the cloth when Eupheme cried out in pain.
Eupheme grunted and blinked away tears of pain. “It’s going to hurt me, your highness,” she said softly. “The only way it’ll get better is if you set it properly. Temporary pain now means health in the future.”
Tythel nodded, gritted her teeth, and handed Eupheme a leather strip to bite down on. This time, she forced herself to not let go when Eupheme grunted in pain around the strip, forced herself to keep going until it was securely in place.
When they were done, Eupheme let out a low groan and held up the splint. She couldn’t move her wrist now, even if she’d wanted to. “I’m just…I’m just going to lay here for a bit.” Her eyes were half lidded. Tythel couldn’t even imagine how bad the pain must have been to wear Eupheme out to this degree and wish she could let the woman rest. Right now, that wasn’t an option.
“No,” Tythel said, forcing herself to stand up. “Night’s coming. Predators.”
Eupheme glanced in the direction of the sun and blinked. The sun was almost below the edge of the canyon. They’d have some hours before night once that passed, but they’d be plunged into darkness soon. “Okay. And we need to find Tellias.” Eupheme grimaced. “Once true night hits, I can push myself to reinforce this bond. It’ll give me some mobility back. Until then, I’ll only slow you down.”
“Not leaving you behind.” Tythel said firmly. “You’ll get on my back again. Won’t slow me down at all.” That proved to be a bit too many words at once, and the last word came out in a harsh wheeze. Tythel found herself coughing again, turning away to cough into her hand. No blood came up this time, which she decided to take a good sign.
Eupheme grimaced but nodded in agreement.
It had been some time since Tythel had last heard the clang of arcplate approaching. Tellias wasn’t coming for them. Tythel had to hope they hadn’t taken too long caring for Eupheme.
Once Eupheme was secure on Tythel’s back, she took off as quick as she dared move back up the river.
The sky above the canyon was growing red and orange with dusk when Tythel heard it. A long, warbling wail cut through the air and echoed along the canyon’s walls. All other animal sounds fell silent in the wake of the noise, and Tythel came to an abrupt halt, diving under a tree. “What-” Eupheme started to say, but Tythel shushed her with a furious hiss.
It was even darker under the tree, to the point where it felt like night beneath its branches. Small insects flew nearby, flashing with momentary bursts of green light to signal for mates. Hands trembling with fear, Tythel lowered Eupheme to the air as gently as she could manage. The entire time she strained her ears, hoping she wouldn’t hear it, that the source of the sound was moving further down the canyon. Maybe even pursuing the Skimmers. Anything but…
And then she heard it, in the distance but growing closer. The gentle rustle of flapping wings. “Aeromane,” Tythel whispered to Eupheme. “If it sees us…”
Eupheme’s eyes widened, and she nodded to show she understood. Aeromanes were rare. They tended to prefer the same types of lairs and territories as dragons, but were out competed by the superior intelligence dragons possessed. Or at least, they had been, Tythel thought with grim realization. If it was true, if Karjon had been the last full dragon, there were no more checks on their territory. “Stay to shadows. Flit between them. If it can’t pick up your scent, it won’t hunt you,” Tythel whispered.
Aeromanes weren’t like dragons in another way. They were voracious eaters, and would hunt any game large enough to feed them in their territory. In these canyons, there was unlikely to be easier prey than a human, let alone one with a broken wrist. I have to get her away from it.
“Flath that,” Eupheme whispered back. “If I do that, what are you going to do?”
“Dragonflame. It should scare it off.” Tythel said, hoping Eupheme wouldn’t realize that she wasn’t sure she could manage dragon flame at all right now. And even if it did, the aeromane that was in Karjon’s territory was hardly scared off by dragonflame. Tythel could still see it, that hungry, frightened, furious creature clawing at her as she scooted further back into the lair, it’s claws mere inches from…
“Then it’ll be safest near you,” Eupheme said firmly.
“I need to get to Tellias,” Tythel said. “It’ll be easier to remain hidden if I’m alone.”
“You think I’ll reveal you?” Tythel had never imagined someone could whisper scornfully, but Eupheme proved it was completely possible.
“Eupheme,” Tythel started to object, but the other woman cut her off with a firm shake of her head.
“There’s no pile of boulders to shove me behind this time, your highness.” Eupheme glowered. “I’m staying with you.”
Tythel opened her mouth to object, but shame took the words from her lips. “I thought princesses had some ability to give orders,” Tythel muttered, knowing how sullen she sounded.
“You can absolutely give orders. And I can choose to ignore them. Any idea where Tellias is?”
Tythel paused to listen. There were no sounds coming to her besides the gentle rushing of the river and the wind through the trees. All animals, the ones supposedly less intelligent than humans and dragons at least, had fallen silent at the sound of the aeromane’s cry. She was about to shake her head when she heard it. Faint, coming much further down the canyon, a voice, echoing in a metallic shell. “Anyone? I can’t exactly move without power. Is anyone there?”
“Oh light and shadow,” Tythel whispered, turning to Eupheme. “He ran out of power. He’s trapped in his armor.”
“He’ll be safe from the aeromane, right?” Eupheme whispered hopefully.
“I’ve seen an aeromane claw through a boulder,” Tythel responded. “I don’t think that-”
Tythel had pushed her throat too hard. Before she even realized how scratchy her voice was growing, Tythel erupted into a series of coughs. In the silence of the canyon, they echoed repeatedly, sharp rapports that cut through the air. Eupheme looked at Tythel with horrified eyes.
Both of them there sat there in silence, Tythel silently begging Light, Shadow, and all the small gods to keep the aeromane from noticing them. After what felt like hours but was likely only a couple minutes, Tythel let out a sigh of relief.
As if it had been waiting for that, the aeromane roared, and the rushing of its wings resumed, growing closer with every flap.
“On my back,” Tythel growled, all pretense of stealth vanishing. “Hurry.”
Eupheme didn’t object, clamoring on Tythel’s back as carefully as she could. Eupheme wrapped her injured arm around Tythel’s neck to hold herself in place, using the crook of her elbow to keep weight off her broken wrist. As Tythel started to run, Eupheme used her good hand to pull out her arcwand. “Can you actually manage dragonflame right now?” Eupheme asked as they started to run.
Tythel let the silence answer Eupheme’s question. It got the message across well enough, and Eupheme swore.
Moments later, the aeromane flapped into view.
The one Tythel had seen as a child was half starved and distorted by the nightmares of youth. This one was well fed, and Tythel was able to get a better look at it.
The aeromane was, technically, a relative of the great cats that roamed the jungles of Aelthor to the south, in the same way a dragon was, technically, a relative of the small drakes that hunted birds in the trees, or mankind was related to the curious monkeys that would steal berries from bazaars. Almost as large as a true dragon, the aeromane had four bat-like wings propelling it through the air, replacing all four of its legs. It could still walk awkwardly on them, but in the air it was a thing of grace and beauty. It was slower than a dragon, although far more maneuverable, and as it was proving right now, it was more than fast enough to catch up to a half-dragon running with an Umbrist on her back.
Eupheme fired a few wild shots at the aeromane, but it was able to maneuver around the beams with the same ease Tythel had once seen it evade dragonflame. It let out another one of those caterwauling roars and began to steer itself towards them with lazy flaps of those immense wings.
Tythel rounded a corner just in time to see Tellias laying there, face down in his powerless arcplate. Too far away to reach, and too badly trapped to be helped even if they could reach him. The aeromane was too close, and too hungry.
With a final roar, it dove from them.
Chapter 14
Tythel leapt to the side as the Aeromane’s claws dug furrows into the dirt where she had just been standing. It growled in confusion, whipping its head towards them. Eupheme raised her arm and fried a couple shots. One managed to sear the Aeromane’s shoulder, and it roared in fury. Tythel kicked off the ground with all of her strength, hurling herself away from the beast. Eupheme kept firing at it, and the Aeromane began to run along the ground after them.
I have to do this. There’s no other way. Tythel took a deep breath. Immediately pain began to well in her throat, although it was less than before. Tears welling in her eyes, Tythel let out a tiny burst of flame.
The effect was immediate. Although it came nowhere near the Aeromane, the beast reared up and let out a surprised chuff of air, waving its forewings at them and looking around. The beast was old, it seemed. Old enough to know what dragonflame meant. It gave Tythel a look of almost comical confusion. You are tiny and delicious, it seemed to be thinking, yet that fire is hot and bad. “Eupheme…” Tythel managed to whisper hoarsely. “Get behind it.”
Eupheme, for a wonder, didn’t argue. With the sun as low on the horizon as it was, the entire canyon was covered by the deep shadow of its own walls, and Tythel felt a rush of air as Eupheme’s weight vanished from her back.
The Aeromane snapped its jaws and cocked its head in confusion, looking at Tythel through squinted eyes. The beast knew that humans did not suddenly vanish. Humans did not breathe dragon flames. Humans screamed and crunched between its jaws. Now it was confronted with oddities upon oddities. Scholars described aeromanes as no more intelligent than land-bound great cats, but in its confusion, Tythel saw a glimmer of some deeper intelligence. The aeromane was just smart enough to understand that what was happening was wrong and unnatural. Just smart enough to be baffled.
Unfortunately, it also seemed smart enough to call her bluff. The aeromane began to lower down to be on all fours again. Without any further dragon flame, with the strange vanishing human not reappearing, hunger was replacing fear.
In response, Tythel held out her hand and extended her hammer. It crackled with unlight. The aeromane reared up again, hissing in anger and fear. Things kept vanishing. Things kept appearing. The aeromane did not like these things. It let out a series of growls and hisses.
That’s a language, Tythel thought, her eyes widening. It was too rhythmic, too distinct to be anything else. Crude and primitive, perhaps. Aeromanes were solitary creatures, they wouldn’t need much complexity in their language. But, although she couldn’t understand the words, the tone was unmistakable.
The aeromane was swearing. Angrily.
Tythel opened her mouth, hoping to take advantage of its confusion. She didn’t attempt to breathe dragonflame. The thought of doing that to her throat again made her stomach churn. Instead, she tried to roar.
The sound that came out was weak and rasping. The aeromane cocked its head further in confusion. Tythel opened her mouth and attempted to roar again. The sound, while far from fearsome was still doing its job, still confusing the aeromane. Giving Eupheme time to line up a shot.
When she ‘roared’ for the third time, the aeromane joined her, a deep bellow of pain that echoed through the valley. It whipped around, and for a moment Tythel could see Eupheme framed under one of its wings, but Eupheme vanished before either Tythel or the aeromane could get a good look at her. The creature turned back to Tythel and bellowed a challenge, rage and confusion mixing in the sound.
Tythel let out another wave of dragonflame in response. It wasn’t much – it was barely more than a flash – but it was enough. The aeromane decided there was better, less confusing prey elsewhere in the valley. It leapt into the air, flapping to gain altitude.
Tythel collapsed, her vision spinning. It had taken everything she had left in her to let out that last bit of dragonflame. Eupheme appeared at her side, catching Tythel before she collapsed to the ground. “Tythel! What’s wrong?”
Tythel could only gesture towards her throat. That coppery taste was filling her mouth again, and she spat blood onto the grass below. Tythel felt her lids start to grow heavy. Just a little bit of sleep, Tythel though. Just a little bit and –
