Well, actually, they made no sense at all.
Straight out of the story books, that was a Draco-turtle.
Chapter 36
Ambush
The owl descended through the fog, wings outstretched to slow its descent, talons gripping something long and thin about the middle. Gliding down toward an open window of a building in the palace grounds until it landed on the floor of a bedchamber.
Air warped, colors merging, a faint sizzling sound, and where the owl once was stood Neenahwi, naked as the day she was born, stretching the kinks out of her body. Owl eyes were always the best at night. She’d picked out Jyuth’s bedroom and could hear him talking in the next room.
“What’s going on, Hoskin?” asked her father. “Are you going to make me have to go and look for myself?”
“I don’t know what’s happening! I came here to ask you what the fuck was going on!”
“Now, now. Is there any need for that language?”
“You swear all the time. And I’m fucking sick of this job,” said the chancellor. Neenahwi agreed he did sound sick of it.
“I only swear when it’s appropriate. For effect. You, however, don’t swear. It doesn’t suit you.”
Neenahwi grabbed a robe from a hook on the wall and sauntered into the sitting room, surprising the two men standing there. Hoskin looked quite shocked at her state of undress beneath the robe. “Father, do leave him alone. There are more fucking important things right now,” she said.
“See, she can curse,” said Jyuth, nodding to Hoskin. “She has the right presence.”
“Lady Neenahwi,” pleaded Hoskin, “save me from this old lunatic. Do you know what’s going on?”
“Pirates. Pirates and sea monsters,” said Neenahwi, shaking her head, more to herself than anything else at the ridiculousness of the story she needed to tell. “I kid you not. There’s a flotilla of galleons in the harbor. Hundreds of corsairs on the streets, behind barricades they’ve built, and then to top it off, there’s a whole town of pirates on the back of a Draco-turtle. How on earth did this happen? Where is the navy?”
“Most of them are sailing across the Arz Sea right now,” said Hoskin. “They’re trying to intercept a new Pyrfew fleet.”
“Well, somebody knew that was going to happen. Because I don’t think these pirates just happened to be stopping by, saw the open port, and thought, I know, let’s pop in and borrow a cup of sugar.”
“Do you really think they’re invading?” Hoskin turned and called out of the door, “Percival, has someone found Grimes yet?”
“I have no cunting clue,” said Neenahwi in answer to his first question. She looked at her father, who had yet to say a word. “You’ve been very quiet.”
Jyuth’s eyes stopped staring into the middle distance and focused on her. “I was trying to sense the Draco-turtle. I haven’t seen one in centuries. I thought they’d all died. They have powerful minds that are usually very obvious to us. But I can’t sense anything.”
“Father, I’m not lying.”
“Of course not. But it becomes stranger and stranger.”
“We have to go and help. My friends are down there. Motega is down there. They can’t stop that thing alone,” she said.
“Yes, of course, my dear,” said her father. “Hoskin. Get Uthridge and Grimes and organize the defenses. And get out of here; you don’t need to see this.”
Hoskin backed out of the room, nodding, eyes wide, looking like someone who’d had one kick too many to the head. Once he’d left the room, Jyuth pulled his robe over his head and placed it on the floor, then his amulet beside it.
“Do you have the stone with you?” he asked.
“Yes, here in a pouch.”
“Good. You’ll need it. Let’s go.”
She undressed, too, as her father shimmered into the form of a golden eagle. It hopped over and clutched his belongings in taloned feet before launching itself through the doorway Hoskin had just departed and out into the night sky.
The tawny owl followed the eagle, flying above the low fog, unable to see much of the city beneath her except where it dissipated near the harbor, the floating town visible.
An eagle.
Her father was always so ostentatious.
Neenahwi carried her belt of pouches and the robe this time, she had no intention of fighting pirates or the Draco-turtle in the nude. She’d previously left her clothes behind on the tavern rooftop in her rush to get to the palace, only taking her leather belt and its valuables. But the extra weight and size of the robe caused drag, slowing her flight, and so, she fell behind the wizard in front. Tawny owls weren’t made for carrying so much. But it wasn’t much further to go.
Out of the fog came a bolt of bright orange fire that she only just adjusted her flight to avoid, heat singeing feathers.
What was that?
She beat her wings to gain altitude and more time to react. The blast had appeared almost out of nowhere because she was so close to the fog. A second eruption of flame quickly followed the first, and this time it caught her in the chest, suffocating her with hot air as her feathers erupted. She transformed back to human as she fell, the acrid smell of burnt feathers in her nostrils, belt and robe knocked from her grip and falling down into the fog. She followed them, dropping like a stone.
There were seconds before the ground would meet her. This was where the years of study and meditation came in, along with what Neenahwi liked to think of as natural talent. Hedge wizards and witch doctors might be able to do magic with hours of preparation and a handy sacrifice, doing it in a split second with the earth about to give you a hard embrace was entirely different. She divided her mind and called on her own energy, drawing from her precious reserves, causing the air beneath her to turn thick, the viscosity slowing her fall.
She still hit the ground with a thud, knocking the wind from her lungs and bringing sharp pain to her knees and hands as she landed on all fours.
Shit.
Neenahwi stood and dusted herself off. The street around her was deserted. Fog limited visibility to twenty feet or so, but she could see across the way where her belongings had landed, hanging from a broad ancient oak tree in a small patch of green grass of what passed for a park in Kingshold.
From the fog stepped a tall, well-dressed man, flanked by four guards. The man smiled as he approached. Neenahwi tried to shake some sense back into her head after the fall. Gawl Tegyr! What’s he doing here?
“Hello, Neenahwi darling. I’m so glad I got your attention.”
“You fired at me?” she demanded. Gawl Tegyr was known to her, the Pyrfew ambassador to Kingshold was often in the city. The on-again, off-again, nature of the Edland and Pyrfew conflict meant there was as much gamesmanship through diplomacy as on a battlefield. She also remembered hearing that Gawl had been particularly animated after Jyuth had rescued her and Motega from the emperor’s captivity.
“I just wanted to talk to you, my dear,” the ambassador spoke as if he was an old family friend. “I know you must be hurting inside, what with the old fool saying he’s going to leave you.”
“How do you know that?” she screamed. “How did you do that? You’re not a sorcerer.”
“What, just because you and your father didn’t know? There’s more than one type of magic. And I have knowledge you could only imagine. But I want you to know the emperor still has only the warmest of feelings for you. Even after you ran away.”
She took one step toward the ambassador, fists clenched by her side and teeth gritted. “Don’t talk to me about him!”
“He’s missed you, my dear. It’s time for you to go back and sit by his side.” Behind him, she saw two of the guards carrying coils of heavy ship’s rope, which began to unwrap and rise in the air like snakes rearing to strike. Gawl Tegyr didn’t move, didn’t shift his gaze from her face. The ropes leapt forward faster than she could react, her composure gone, swept away by the storm of his words. One rope coiled around her middle, pinning
her arms to the sides of her naked and bloody body, the other around her legs, causing her to topple to the ground.
“Don’t worry. Once we’re away from this abominable little city, and we have a chance to talk, you’ll be unbound. I’ve arranged transport.” Gawl began to walk forward, his guards remaining where they stood, motionless.
Neenahwi closed her eyes and blew a deep breath, attempting to re-center herself. Her belt was not too far away. It’s just the same as if I held them in my hand, she told herself. The sounds of the city subsided, the noise of battle and fire and screams from ahead of her faded away, and she was able to part her mind. One piece of her felt the steel from afar, then another, and another still.
Three short razor-sharp arrows burst free from a pouch on her belt and flew into the air, buzzing between her and Gawl Tegyr, causing him to stop his advance. Those sharp silver blurs changed direction and swooped down to her prone figure, the razor fletchings slicing through her bindings before climbing into the air to strike again. The thick ropes required many cuts, and the closeness to her skin left her with a crisscross of slices in her flesh. But in seconds, the lines fell away in pieces, such was the speed of the steel arrows.
“You won’t take me,” she said with determination as she opened her eyes and climbed to her feet. Gawl Tegyr looked at her in amusement. It only stoked the fire inside. “You won’t take me.”
Neenahwi stood and raised her arms. The steel missiles, a gift from her father, hovered in the air above her head. She brought down her hands, and they flew across the gap between her and Gawl faster than the eye could see.
If the arrows were a blur, then Gawl’s hands were a flash. Left raised to the first bolt; it was deflected away, an inch from his palm. Right moved to meet the second arrow to similar effect, before the third, too, was stopped. She fractured her mind further, one piece of her seizing a chunk of cobblestone, another a piece of jagged metal, another pulled a knife from the belt of one of the guards who didn’t respond. All were added to the maelstrom of missiles flying at her attacker. But he blocked them all.
She felt thin, hardly present in the world any longer. Her mind shattered like a mirror, and she could see a hundred smaller images of herself. She’d pushed too far and had to stop.
The debris fell to the ground as she reeled back in the line she’d wantonly cast out. Only the arrows remained airborne now, but they were still, unmoving, waiting by her elbow.
Gawl Tegyr’s arms resumed their relaxed position by his side, his head cocked to one side as he regarded her. “Why do you subscribe to Jyuth’s way of doing things? You’re not a juggler, or a court fool, tossing around axes. Why not simply use force?” A wave of invisible pressure hit her whole body, pushing her back a step and lifting her unbound hair behind her. Her missiles flew across the street, embedding into the far wall.
“Why not just take what you need? And simply kill if you need it,” he said. Neenahwi’s magic eye could now see the thin threads leading from the four guards to Gawl Tegyr. The conduits became bright red as the guards willingly gave their lives, their energy, to the wizard, before they crumpled to the ground.
Gawl raised a hand, and a blast of green energy enveloped her. The pain was immeasurable, more than she’d ever dreamed possible. She screamed. She screwed her eyes shut, but tears still poured down her face as she fell to her knees.
“Of course. I don’t mean to kill you,” Gawl continued pleasantly. “That would be rather against the point, wouldn’t it? Yes, I don’t suppose you can answer right now. I hope you’ll remember I did ask you nicely to come along.”
Neenahwi couldn’t see him anymore, but she could hear him gloating. Her limbs felt like they were on fire. Her teeth were iron spikes driven into her jaw. Her lungs rebelled at every breath. And when he touched her, putting his hand gently on her face, it felt like acid melting her flesh.
Her eyes opened, bulging.
She had to do something. Desperately, she reached out for mana to combat his. Her mind was a thousand groping hands, seeking something to take in this stone-dead street, anything to keep her alive.
And then she found it, and she took all it had. And, it was such a lot of power, too. It felt old and great.
Her face erupted in a brilliant flash of light, eradicating the darkness of the night for a split second with the brightness of the sun. She saw Gawl’s face, less than an arm’s span away from her, illuminated first in surprise, and then pain as he brought his hands up to shield his blinded eyes.
From the wall behind Neenahwi, her steel arrows pulled free, spun and shot toward the ambassador. Thudding into his body, one after another.
Gawl Tegyr slowly fell to the ground, hand reaching to the steel arrows protruding from his flesh before he was still.
The green energy around Neenahwi disappeared. The pain, too, as if it had never been there. In relief, she lay back on the floor and breathed deeply. Opening her eyes, she saw the boughs of the ancient oak tree above her, the one living thing she’d found. The once bright green leaves of the summer were now an ashen grey, and one by one, they fell around her.
She allowed herself a few precious seconds of rest, but thought it best not to be lying unclothed in a city being invaded by pirates, so she stood and retrieved her robe from where it had fallen. Neenahwi also collected her belt, tied it around her waist, and checked the contents of the remaining pouches. Everything seemed to be in place. But she needed to get her arrows back.
Turning to face where Gawl Tegyr had fallen, she saw the body spasm.
It twitched again, and the chest bulged. The neck swelled from something moving below the surface. And then the ambassador’s face split open.
Chapter 37
Not Prepared
His chair felt reassuringly familiar. It wasn’t luxurious, as it had once belonged to his father, and he was a man for whom substance was more important than form. But the worn oak and his tired body were old friends, and its sturdiness grounded him. He had thought he was so close to being able to see the end of the tunnel and leave this behind. He hadn’t asked to run this country since the king’s death. He’d been told to do so by the wizard, and the Hoskin of a little more than three weeks ago didn’t have the balls to say no. Now, he’d tell Jyuth to stick it up his magical starfish. At least, he liked to think he would.
The clay cup of hot coffee helped, too. It brought some spark back to the brain.
Percival must have brought him here to his office because he couldn’t remember the walk. And put the cup in his hand. Good man, that Percival. What a find. Where had he found him? He had the makings of a damn fine treasurer, too. Wonder if he was any good at marshaling the defenses of the city.
Unfortunately, it was something he had to do. But as his father would have said, when life gives you a beating, kick it in the ballsack. So, he had to organize some kicking.
“Percival!” he called to the open door in front of him. “Are you there?”
Percival stepped into the doorway, looking slightly harried, the first time Hoskin could remember him not looking perfectly composed. “I just returned, my lord.”
“Good. I need Uthridge and Grimes now.”
“They’re just behind me, my lord. I’m sorry it took me so long to find them.”
The general royal walked into the office first, followed by Commander Grimes. Both were wearing breastplates and chainmail. While Uthridge gleamed and wore an immaculate tabard over the top, by comparison, Grimes followed his name. A long night of fighting fires and firebrands, and now invading pirates, were evident in the soot and smoke that tarnished him.
“Ah good. Thank you, Percival,” said Hoskin. “You may close the door. I’ll call if I need you.” Hoskin looked at the two men standing before him and let the silence drag out for a minute. “Gentlemen, how rude of me not to offer you a seat…” Uthridge was already moving to sit, hand on the back of the chair in front of him, pulling it away from the desk, “but I don’t think that will be necessa
ry. It seems to me there’s been too much sitting around on the job, don’t you?”
They both stood stock still, eyes forward, reverting to the skills they would both have mastered as young soldiers. When the boss is pissed off, don’t say a word unless you have to.
“So, do either of you know what the hell is going on?” asked Hoskin when it was clear neither was going to volunteer anything.
Uthridge looked to his left to Grimes, signaling he expected him to go first. “It seems like we’re in the middle of an invasion, my lord,” said the guard commander.
“What amazing insight!” said Hoskin. “Who are they? How many? How did they do this?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have too many details, my lord. I’ve been on the streets with the guard; I’ve seen them, and I don’t recognize any colors or markings to identify them. They’re lightly armored, skirmishers more than real soldiers. No idea of the numbers right now either, my lord. The fog has made it so you can only see them when they’re right in front of you.”
“They’re pirates!” Hoskin thumped the desk. He couldn’t remember ever hitting a desk before in his life. “Lady Neenahwi saw them firsthand. A whole fleet, at least twenty galleons. How many men would that be?”
“If they really are pirates, then I wouldn’t expect more than three hundred men on one of those ships,” volunteered Uthridge.
“Six thousand men! Within the walls of Kingshold! And, apparently, they have something called a Draco-turtle. Do you know what that is? No? Me neither, but it doesn’t sound good.”
Kingshold Page 34
