by A. L. Knorr
A Nycht, taking a morning bath?
But the disk told her to press forward, so she did. The orange dot did not show the location of any one particular Nycht, but rather the direction in which the biggest number of them lay. Eohne had no idea how many Nychts lived in this gorge, but she told herself that she had no reason to fear them; Nychts and Elves had no squabbles that she knew of. Still, she was walking straight into the heart of their home, she wasn't sure they would appreciate being found so easily.
The cool feeling of being watched trailed its fingers across Eohne's neck and she resisted the urge to use the cylinder to hide herself.
When two Nychts dropped out of the sky in front of her, landing on the dusty floor of the canyon like two boulders hewn from the rock above, Eohne didn't even jump. She just stopped walking and put the glass disk into her bag, keeping her eyes on the visitors as she did so.
"Hello," she greeted the pair softly. "I'm happy to have found you."
The two Nychts shared a look. The man was huge and barrel-chested, with a round belly to match, while the woman was lean as a whip. Both of them were armed. Hilts glittered from leather holsters, loops of rope hung from hips, spikes protruded from leather armor, and the woman had no small amount of piercings to augment the overall menacing impression.
"You think you're just going to walk into Noriloth like you own the place?" the woman hissed in a strange accent, then spat off to the side and crossed her sinewy arms. Her pitch-black bat’s wings shuddered and tightened, the hooked claws curling in on themselves the way a fist might clench. The woman was deeply tanned, and her unfriendly eyes were as green as moss. Her teeth were perfect and so white they were almost painful to look at, but Eohne didn't miss the slightly-too-long eye teeth; she wondered if they were filed to look that way, or if the woman had been born with them.
"Of course not," Eohne dropped her chin. "This is your home, I regret that I had to come in unannounced. I am looking for someone."
The woman gave a short, nasty laugh, but the big man put out a hand and silenced her. It was clear which of the two was in charge.
The big male Nycht had light gray wings and one of his claws was broken. He was wrapped in the black leather vest of his kind, all his skin protected, save for his thick beefy arms, which were as pale as a moon and dusted with freckles. His hair was short and covered his skull like red grass. His vivid blue eyes had a kindness that was lacking in the woman's.
"I can help you with that," said Eohne, gesturing to the broken dewclaw.
The Nycht glanced up at the broken claw and then back at her, an eyebrow raised. "It'll grow back," he said gruffly.
"Yes, but I can make it grow back now. It won't even hurt; it's just a nail. You can't climb because of it, right?" Eohne had a hard time picturing a man of his size climbing anything at all, regardless of how many dewclaws he had, but Strix had hollow bones and could be much more nimble than they looked.
"We don't need anything from you," the woman barked.
Again the man put his hand out, and Eohne caught a fleeting expression of tried patience.
"What do you want?" the man said. "We don't see Elves in these parts. I'm curious."
"I need to find one of your brothers," said Eohne. "His name is Toth."
The man's face expanded with surprise, and the woman darted a sideways look at him, her eyes wide.
The man grunted. "How did you know he's my brother?"
It was Eohne's turn to be surprised. She gave a laugh. "I used ‘brother’ in the figurative sense; I didn't realize you were actually related to him."
"What do you want with him?"
"One of our mutual friends is in trouble," explained Eohne. "I've come to let him know and ask for his help."
"He won't help you," sneered the woman. "There isn't nobody who could be his friend and your friend. Nychts don't have friends outside our own—"
"Chayla," said the man with a weary sideways glance. "Enough."
The woman glared at her companion, then wilted under his gaze. She shot a resentful look at Eohne but shut her mouth.
"Who is in trouble?"
"A girl named Jordan whom he recently escorted into Charra-Rae. I think—" Eohne shifted uncomfortably and hoped she didn't misspeak. "If you'll take me to him, he can at least decide if he wants to help her." Eohne watched the man's face, his expression said that Jordan's name was not entirely foreign to him. She felt safe enough to introduce herself. "My name is Eohne."
"Caje," said the Nycht without hesitating. He relaxed his arms. "You have a deal. You fix my dewclaw, and I'll take you to Toth."
Chayla's mouth gaped, but Caje turned to her and said, "Go. Let him know we're coming."
Chayla frowned, but she'd been given an order. She turned and flapped into the air, disappearing down the gorge.
"Thank you," said Eohne, relieved. She rummaged in her bag and retrieved the glass disk. Then she wiped away the orange dot, as it had done its job.
"Now if you'll just spit on this, please."
***
Toth waded out of the crystalline pool where fresh, cold water bubbled up from underground. Naked and shivering, Toth reached for the fabric that would serve as his towel—it had probably once been a bed sheet for some farmer in The Conca.
He scrubbed at his wet hair with the sheet and flapped his wings, sending spray in all directions. Nychts didn't wash their wings unless they knew they were safe, since water hampered their ability to fly. It was still possible to fly, but it was laborious and left them exposed.
When Toth had stripped off and walked into the pool, his duty was done for the day, and he was alone. Or so he'd thought.
"You might want to put pants on."
Toth scrambled to get the bed sheet off his face. "Chayla," he barked. "What are you doing here?" Water dripped into his eyes from his hair and ran down his muscular frame in rivulets. His silver hair spiked out in all directions like needles. Chayla had snuck up on him more than once since she'd joined the rebels two years ago and he cursed her under his breath for it. No one was as silent as Chayla. It wasn't so much the catching him naked as it was that she made him feel like he was losing his edge, getting old.
Chayla was crouched on a rock with her knees tucked up to her chest, her wings relaxed and trailing in the dust behind her. She grinned her blazing white toothy grin and didn't look away from Toth's nakedness. "There is someone here to see you."
"Besides you?" Toth grumbled, wiping droplets from his belly and chest. He turned his back to Chayla and draped the makeshift towel over his hips so it hung down to his knees. It was enough to cover his butt while he pulled on his leather pants—a job in itself, over damp skin.
Chayla frowned and cocked her head sideways, trying to peer under the hem of Toth's bed sheet. "Prude."
Caje appeared in the fissure between the rocks just beyond Chayla; someone else Toth couldn't see was following behind him.
"Can't even take a bath around here…" Toth muttered. He did up the buckle of his belt and watched his brother approach.
Toth's gaze fell on the Elf as she stepped around the huge Nycht. She was tall and willowy with long, wavy brunette hair and dark eyes. She carried several bags crisscrossed over her body, and her clothing was simple: a tunic over loose pants, cinched by a three-buckled leather belt. The hilts of two curved blades, typical of the Elves of Charra-Rae, were strapped across her back in easy reaching distance and visible just above her shoulders. Elves were known for their ability to draw a blade and make a cut in the same motion, usually resulting in a lost limb or a lost head. Interesting that Caje didn’t ask this Elf to remove her weapons; it’s a sign he has some level of trust in her.
His eyes flicked to Caje's wings. His brother's broken dewclaw was now whole and as black and shiny and sharp as ever. Only Elf magic could have done that, and there is only one Elf in the vicinity. They never do anything for free, though, so it had to have been done in trade. Toth found himself full of curiosity.
<
br /> "You're Toth?" The Elf stepped forward. "I'm Eohne."
Toth felt a vibration twang through his middle as she spoke, that string running the length of his spine that only Charra-Rae Elves had the ability to pluck.
"I apologize for the poor timing," Eohne said, her eyes tracing the scars crisscrossing Toth's bare chest and arms. "Didn't realize you were bathing."
"Not your fault," replied Toth, shooting a glare at his brother while he pulled his vest on, reaching back to yank on the laces below his wings. "Chayla?" His eyes flashed to the Nycht still crouched on the rock and observing the whole exchange with interest. He jerked his head toward the fissure. Beat it.
Chayla rolled her eyes and moved extra slow. She dragged herself to standing and sauntered back the way she'd come, keeping an ear cocked in their direction until she disappeared into the fissure.
"What I've come to tell you has to do with Jordan," Eohne said. Her dark eyes flashed to Caje momentarily.
Toth finished putting himself back together by strapping his throwing blades on, and came to stand before Eohne.
"Would you like to sit? I can't offer you much more hospitality than that, I'm afraid. We're unaccustomed to guests here in Noriloth. But please," he gestured to the cluster of flat stones near the pool.
Eohne took a seat on one of the rocks. "I wasn't sure who else to go to with this information and Jordan told me how kind you were to her."
"What information?" Toth stayed standing, and Caje stood behind him, listening with his arms crossed over his chest.
Eohne eyed Toth, uncertain of her footing here. The Nychts were polite but cool, and the mention of Jordan's name hadn't thawed Toth any. "You're friends with Jordan, right? She gave that impression."
"Nychts don't have friendships with humans," Toth said.
"She's not human," countered Eohne.
Toth blinked. "Excuse me?"
"She's Strix."
Eohne could see thunderheads forming in Toth's expression; probably at what he perceived to be some kind of deception on Jordan's part.
"Is this a joke?" Toth looked at his brother, who only shrugged and made a face that said, ‘Don't look to me for answers. I've no idea what's going on here.’
"No, it's not a joke.” Eohne answered him. “She didn't know she was Strix, either, or I'm sure she would have told you. Jordan is from Earth."
Toth's eyes widened and he belted out an unexpected laugh. Eohne and Caje both stared at him. "That explains a few things."
Eohne smiled. "It does, doesn't it?" Even if she hadn't had an accent, Jordan's naiveté and her wonder at everything surrounding her was a dead giveaway of her mundane upbringing. Eohne guessed that Toth had seen his share of this behavior from the Earthling, too.
Toth's laughter faded, but his smile remained. "What's that got to do with me?"
"Hear me out." Eohne, uncomfortable with being the only one sitting, got to her feet. "I'm an inventor. I'm good at what I do, but my magic isn't perfect. No magic is." Eohne began to use her hands to talk; it helped her get through the story under Toth's penetrating gaze. "I invented these messenger bugs. I know that's a terrible name, very boring, but I haven't had time to name them properly yet."
Toth and Caje shared a bemused look.
"Anyhow," Eohne forged onward, speeding up. "I used these messenger bugs to help Jordan send a message to her father, Allan. Jordan was concerned because her mother went missing years ago and her poor dad would be sick with worry, because Jordan accidentally fell through a portal right after she and her father had a fight, and she hadn't been able to contact him to let him know that she's okay." Eohne took a breath and snatched a glance at Toth after this rapid delivery.
Toth took a swig of water from his waterskin. "I'm with you," he said, fixing the bag to his hip again. "Still not sure what it’s got to do with me."
"Only half of my messenger bugs came home, at first I didn't know why." She faced him. "A little while later, the rest of them came home and I was able to extract data from the juice inside their bodies."
"Data?"
"Yes. The magic isn't important, what's important is that I was able to tell from the data that Allan followed the bugs through a portal."
Toth's face became drawn. "Jordan's father is here?"
"Yes."
"Does Jordan know that?"
"No."
"Where is he?"
"I believe he passed through into the desert."
"Which one?" Toth was growing more alarmed. It was clear he cared for Jordan, whether he admitted it or not.
"Saour Desert, south of Skillen."
Toth passed a hand over his face in aggravation. "That place is full of Willens and Gypsies. Bloodsucking little degenerates."
"Yes. And that's exactly whose hands he fell into," Eohne confirmed. "I believe they'll take him to Vischer. Probably to sell him, or turn him in for money."
Caje and Toth looked at each other. Caje crossed his meaty arms. "If they don't eat him."
"They might," granted Eohne. "But I refuse to accept that without trying to help him." Her chin jutted out stubbornly.
"There's only one place you're headed if you end up in Vischer," Caje ventured.
Toth nodded. "Trevilsom."
Eohne breathed out a sigh, relieved that the Nychts understood the danger Allan was in—more than that, they seemed to care.
"What's your plan?" Toth asked Eohne.
"Well, I came for your help. Obviously, my plan will change if you refuse to do so."
Caje's brow furrowed. "You know that we are under permanent contract with the people of The Conca? That we have commitments?"
"Yes, I know, but I thought…" She gestured toward Toth. "Under the circumstances—"
"He doesn't know Allan," said Caje. "And he only helped Jordan because she was wearing the indigo; she's not even a citizen of The Conca."
"I know that, too, but—"
"What kind of Strix is she?" Caje demanded, crossing his arms and raising his chin.
Toth had been meditating during this exchange but at this question, he interjected.
"It doesn't matter what kind of Strix she is," Toth said to his brother. He turned to Eohne. "Can you give us a minute, please?"
"Of course." Eohne went out through the fissure where they'd come in.
Caje and Toth looked at one another.
" ‘It doesn't matter what kind of Strix she is’?" Caje echoed incredulously. "Since when doesn't it matter?"
"She's not from Rodania," Toth replied. "She isn't like them. She wasn't raised by them, brought up with their ideals, their prejudices."
"So you're saying she's probably Arpak."
"I have no idea. I'm just saying that if she is, I don't care."
Caje let a long breath out from his nose and watched as his brother turned the problem over in his mind. When Toth had returned from the job that had taken him outside of The Conca and to Charra-Rae, he'd done nothing but brood for days. When Caje had finally asked him what was on his mind, Toth had reluctantly told the story of rescuing two travellers from a harpy—in fact, the terrifying, overgrown matriarch who'd been killing horses south of Usenno. Caje had been overjoyed to hear that that particular harpy was dead, but Toth hadn’t been in a celebrating mood.
Though Toth didn't admit it, Caje could tell that he'd come to care for the girl he'd rescued. In what capacity, Caje didn't know. Maybe he'd fallen in love with her. Maybe she reminded Toth of the daughter he had lost all those years ago. It didn't matter. What mattered was that Toth cared for her, and whomever Toth cared about, Caje cared about, too. As he watched his brother brood, Caje knew what was holding Toth back.
"We'll cover your watch," said Caje. "Chayla and I. Go. We'll be fine."
Toth swung a grateful look his brother's way. "Normally, I'd protest that—"
"Normally, you wouldn't leave treaty territory. But you did. And whatever the reason, I trust it was worth it."
Toth nodded to his brother
in silent thanks, Caje nodded back. It was decided.
The two Nycht brothers passed through the fissure, where they found Eohne fiddling with one of her blades and watching the skies as clouds rolled over the gorge. When she saw them coming, she sheathed her blade in one smooth motion without taking her eyes from Toth.
"You've had a lot longer to think this through than I have," said Toth to the Elf, as he separated from his brother. "Got any ideas?"
Eohne nodded. The two bent their heads together and squatted in the dirt and began to talk through a plan.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jordan bolted from the shop, the locket clutched in her hand. Belshar's shop was across the gap and, rather than taking the walkway and risking bowling someone over, Jordan hopped into the air. Her wings snapped out and she flew across the great divide between the streets, aiming for Belshar's towering, crooked offices.
"Sol!" Jordan yelled as she saw him exit the office tower. Her toes didn't quite find purchase on the edge of the sidewalk, and her wings flapped to catch her balance and right her.
Sol burst out laughing as Jordan's arms windmilled and her wings fluttered. Jordan joined in, although mostly because she was so excited; she didn't need any other reason to laugh. Sol reached out and grasped Jordan's hand, pulling her onto the walkway. Jordan fell forward into Sol's chest, he wrapped his arms around her to steady her. He looked around for the little blue dragon.
"Where's Blue?" Sol asked.
"Oh!" Jordan stopped laughing. "Blue! I forgot him in my hurry to come find you."
Jordan looked up into Sol’s ice blue eyes and became painfully aware of how close his face was to hers, how his arms were around her, his fingers brushing the feathers of her wings…
Sol let her go and stepped back, his tanned cheeks flushed with pink. "You forgot him?"
"Yes, I—" Jordan turned to face the gap she'd just flown across. "Oooof!"
