by Matthew Lang
Adam nodded. “Some, but I normally use a longbow.”
“We tend to shoot from lizardback,” Joeri said. “Longer bow arms snag.”
“How?”
“You’ve ridden a lizard. You know how they scramble through undergrowth.”
“No, I meant how can you shoot from lizardback?” Adam asked. “We ride so low that we’re almost lying down. Even swinging a saber from there generally requires you to brace yourself with one arm on their back while you swing.”
“That’s because generally you’re going to be executing a hit-and-run attack from cover to cover, preferably fleeing through a narrow opening to avoid pursuit and to avoid darts, arrows, rocks, or anything else that gets shot at you in retaliation. If you’re fighting one on one, you can sit up, grasp your mount with your knees, and strike outward. Of course, you hit harder on foot unless Zoul is moving at speed,” Joeri added with a rueful grin.
“Okay. And… the archery?”
“If you’re not ducking for cover, you can rise up and shoot. Although we tend to shoot from cover. It’s either good for hunting or for drawing enemies out of position.”
“Right. Okay. Let’s see what I remember,” Adam said, taking a bow and a quiver of arrows. After slinging the quiver across his back, he raised the bow and tugged an arrow from the leather quiver. Or attempted to. The arrow caught on something and dropped back into the quiver.
“What the—”
“You have to pull and twist the shaft of the arrow around,” Joeri said. “We put netting over the top of the quiver to stop the arrows falling out when you ride upside down on lizardback. The arrowheads sit in grooves at the base of the quiver, cut perpendicular to the netting to keep them in place.”
“Does it always work?” Adam asked.
“More often than not, yes.”
“Okay. So….” Adam took hold of an arrow, drew it halfway, and twisted it as close to ninety degrees as he could. After pulling it out the rest of the way, he nocked it in the bow, drew, and fired. For a moment they both stared. “I think I need a bit more practice with this twisting arrow thing,” he said finally.
“Yes,” Joeri agreed. “Although you hit the target, at least.”
“Yeah. Well, I got nothing better to do today,” Adam said, reaching back to grab another arrow.
THE NEXT day was much like the one before, although Adam managed to convince a reluctant Duin to join him in training.
“I already know how to do all this, you know,” Duin said.
“More practice never hurt,” Adam said with a smile. “Besides, your very presence will inspire me to acts of greater valor.”
“It will?” Duin asked, his tone unconvinced.
Adam chuckled and pressed his lips to Duin’s. “If it doesn’t, it’ll still make me feel better.”
Duin had rolled his eyes and acquiesced.
On a normal day, in a normal world, it would have been evening when they finished, and they were heading down from the archery range to the stables when the commotion occurred. Urging their mounts toward the racket, they found a babble of people surrounding a young man, still clipped into his riding harness. His lizard’s skin was abraded, and his left arm hung limp at his side. Sweat was dripping off him, and his eyes were wild.
“I need to speak with the elders immediately,” he said.
“Bern, you need a healer,” Joeri said. “That arm looks bad.”
“Not until I see the elders,” Bern said, his chest heaving. “Unless my party made it back first?”
“No,” Joeri said slowly. “They haven’t.”
Bern clenched his jaw and urged his tired mount up the tree, although the beast struggled to move faster than a scramble.
“I’ll ride ahead,” Joeri said, urging his lizard, Tandyr, into a running scuttle. “Keep an eye on him.”
Adam and Duin followed Bern to the council amphitheater at the top of the largest tree, starting a parade that collected more and more followers each level of the tree they rode past. When they arrived at the amphitheater, the seven elders were already gathered. As they rode forward and dismounted, Joeri rushed over to help Bern, one of the healers fast on his heels.
“They got Captain Wendell and the princess,” Bern said, the words rushing out of him before anyone could push him into a chair.
“What? Who?” Joeri asked.
“A patrol from Aer Goragon.”
“They don’t have patrols,” Joeri said. “They’ve never had patrols.”
“They do now,” Bern said, sinking into a chair as the babble of concerned voices rose from the watching crowd, quieting down only when Elder Faas stood and held a hand up for silence.
“Hunter Bern, perhaps you would be good enough to explain what happened?”
Bern nodded tiredly, wincing as the healer set his arm in a splint. “We were returning from Aer Goragon after infiltrating the city—we climbed the trees in the south to see if it was a good way in. On our way back, we came across the patrol overpowering the princess’s party. Hunter Jaak told me to run and tell you while they rode to her defense. They were outnumbered at least three to one.”
“And how long ago was this?”
“I rode straight here,” Bern said. “Though normally it would have been two sleeps’ ride.”
Elder Faas sat down heavily, looking more like an old man than Adam had ever seen him. “Captain Roelof, please dispatch some men to check the battle site. In light of the situation, I think we must proceed as if the princess has been lost.”
“Scouts?” Adam said indignantly. “We have to rescue her.”
“With respect, Sir Adam, how can we know she is even alive to rescue?”
“I don’t believe this,” Adam said. “You never had any intention of fighting Khalivibra, did you? You just sent her out there to get killed, and now you’re going to wash your hands of the whole affair.”
Elder Faas clambered to his feet, his body taut and trembling. “That is unworthy of you, Sir Adam.”
“If so, then this response is unworthy of you.”
“Any other response is premature and risks hundreds of lives, and unless we know if Princess Esmeralda is alive or dead, we cannot know how best to react!”
“Sir Adam,” Elder Jirsca interjected, stepping between them. “How well did you know the princess?”
“We’re friends,” Adam said tersely. “And friends do not send friends off to become dragon food.”
“That is precisely the nature of my question,” Elder Jirsca agreed. “How intimate was your friendship with the princess?”
Incredulity penetrated the haze of Adam’s anger. “Not that intimate!”
“Then she is most likely pure,” Elder Jirsca said. “And she will be kept alive—at least until Khalivibra next desires to feed.”
“Feed? No, come on. There’s hardly enough virginal princesses around to sustain a fully grown creature of her size if that’s all it eats. She must eat something else.”
“According to legend, yes,” Jirsca agreed. “However, also according to legend, the dragons would once protect a kingdom in return for one ritual offering a year.”
“A virgin princess?”
“The stories say princes were sacrificed as well. Often kingdoms would kidnap children of their rivals to sacrifice in their stead.”
“And you think this means Esmeralda will still be alive?”
“Of course. Even with the dragon’s thralls, it will take time to set up an appropriate ritual sacrifice.”
Adam closed his eyes, willing the waves of nausea down to the point where he wouldn’t upchuck his lunch.
“What about the others?” Duin asked.
“I imagine they will be killed,” Jirsca said quietly.
“If they’re lucky,” Bern said somberly. “If the dragon overwhelms their minds, we could end up fighting our own brothers.”
“You mean when,” Duin said. “When her mind overwhelms them.”
“You should have mo
re faith in the fortitude of your brothers and sisters, Duin,” Elder Thera said sharply.
“Have you felt Khalivibra’s mind looking for you?” Duin asked, his eyes flashing. “Because I have. Your warriors are strong, Waur Thera, but I can guarantee the dragon is stronger, even with the protection of Selune.”
“And if she gets to Esmeralda—” Adam started.
“If, Sir Adam?” Thera asked. “If or when?”
“Esmeralda’s mind is strong,” Duin said. “Strongest out of all of us, perhaps.”
“Strong enough?” Adam asked. “Xavier nearly beat her—he would have beat her if he’d had another day—another sleep—or two.”
“He had the skeleton of a dragon to draw power from,” Duin objected.
“And she doesn’t?”
“Oh, right.”
“Right,” Adam said, heaving a great sigh. “We’re out of time, Duin.”
“What exactly do you mean by that, Sir Adam?” Jirsca asked.
“We need to evacuate Boolikstaad,” Adam said, to the gasps of the crowd.
“What!” Elder Thera exclaimed. “You cannot seriously expect us to flee our city just because your princess has been captured. You heard Waur Jirsca; she has time.”
“She is not my princess,” Adam said tiredly. “But she does know where this city is and what it looks like, and she knows that Wyrmbane is here. So do her guards, for that matter.”
For a moment, the only sound was the constant trade winds whistling through the leaves overhead, carrying with it the sound of the priests’ chanting. “You must take the sword away from here, then,” Jirsca said.
“Yes, I know,” Adam agreed. “But the dragon won’t know I’ve gone. She’ll come straight here and raze Boolikstaad to the ground—along with anyone still here.”
“This is not acceptable,” Thera snapped. “We did not agree to be made a target of Khalivibra’s vengeance!”
“No,” Elder Faas agreed softly. “Selune volunteered us when we were marked as her Children. We will not shirk the duties she has laid upon us, will we, Waur Thera?”
Thera took a deep shuddering breath, and for a moment it looked as though she would disagree. Then her shoulders sagged, and she bowed her head. “No, Waur Faas. We will not.”
Inclining his own head in acknowledgment, Elder Faas went on. “If Princess Esmeralda was taken two sleeps ago, we have twelve sleeps’ distance before she reaches the city.”
“And if they don’t stop to rest?” Adam asked.
“Seven sleeps,” Joeri said. “Possibly eight.”
“Plus however long it takes to fly here,” Adam added.
“So, less than a sleep?” Duin suggested sardonically.
The council amphitheater, which had so recently been the scene of Esmeralda’s questing ceremony, was already buzzing with frantic conversations, the noise rising to a fever pitch as the elders huddled in the middle of the open space, their voices not loud enough to carry, but their gesticulations speaking volumes to the watching crowd. Captain Roelof eased his way back through the throng to add his voice to the debate, which soon grew heated. Eventually they appeared to reach an agreement, with first one, then the next of them nodding gravely, some with defiance, some with determination, and not some few with resignation etched into their features. Finally, Elder Faas nodded solemnly, rose again to his feet, and waited until the crowd quieted, all eyes looking to him.
“Return to your homes and pack what you need. Assemble in the plazas nearest to the ground and you will be directed from there. We will also need volunteers to go ahead and prepare our refuges. Please see Captain Roelof if you wish to lend your strength for the survival of our people.”
Chapter 21
ADAM AND Duin were quiet as they moved to repack. People were streaming down the tree like ants erupting from a leafy nest as they moved to strip the city of everything they could bring with them. Bidding them farewell, Joeri had been the first to report to Captain Roelof, and he was soon sending small groups of men and women out of the city on lizardback, each one led by a hunter and carrying weapons, shovels, and heavy axes.
“Where do you think they’re going?” Adam asked.
“I don’t know,” Duin said. “And I think it’s best if we don’t.”
“Don’t go?”
“Don’t know,” Duin corrected. “What we don’t know we can’t reveal, no matter how good the flying lizard is.”
“Right,” Adam said, ducking his head as he rode Zoul over the balcony and through the doorway into their suite of rooms, with Duin and Hele close behind. “Let’s be quick,” he said as he unbuckled himself from his riding harness and slid to the ground, then headed straight for the netting and travel packs that had remained mostly untouched since their arrival in the tree city.
Duin had seen to it that most of their clothing had been carefully repacked once it had been cleaned, what with Adam wearing his armor more often than not in recent days. Together, they slung the pack netting over Zoul’s haunches and filled it with the familiar packs of camping gear, cookware, and the oilskin cloth that had formed the roofs of many a rainforest shelter. Hele too was loaded with baggage and the large copper cooking pot they had taken from Blackwater Keep.
“Food?” Adam asked.
“Not much,” Duin said. “I thought we’d have time to stock up.”
“We do, don’t we?”
“Can you be certain of that?”
“Point,” Adam said. “Let’s just get going as soon as possible. We can raid the planters on our way down for anything edible.”
There was no sleep that evening—or what would have been evening if the sun ever set in this land of twitterlight and shadow.
BY THE time they made their way to the lower plaza of the great tree, it was already full of people, some mounted, but most of them on foot. All carried heavy packs, and in some cases, infants slung in colorful wrappings of spider silk. From halfway up the nearest trunk, Captain Roelof was shouting orders, and while some people were moving out of the plaza, inevitably led by one of Roelof’s guards, more crowded in every minute. A riding lizard hissed irritably on the far side of the plaza, and a child cried out as fangs snapped inches from its face. With all the commotion, it took Adam a while to realize what wasn’t there.
“Where’s the singing gone?” he asked.
“Singing?” Duin responded.
“The singing. You know, the chanting your priests do.”
“That’s not chanting,” Duin said. “Well, okay, it is chanting, but it’s a blessing. A ward to keep the dragon from finding us.”
“I remember,” Adam said. “The point is I can’t hear it anymore.”
The pad-pad-pad of a lizard on the move came up behind them, and Hunter Joeri clapped Adam on the shoulder.
“Adam, Duin, you’re just in time. Captain Roelof’s sending out groups to our hunting camps. We’ll expand the most defensible and have the priests keep them hidden. None of the people know where they’re going until they’re on their way, so that should keep the dragon guessing if— Why are you both ignoring me?”
“Did you stop the priests here from chanting as well?” Adam asked.
“No. Why?”
“The Blessing of Selune has stopped,” Duin said.
“What?”
From somewhere high above, there was the sound of heavy drumbeats, or something that sounded like drumbeats. The leaves rustled, and Adam blinked as a shower of petals, leaves, and bits of bark rained down upon the plaza. The wind whipped around them, and the reddish sunlight streamed in, causing fur to blossom over the faces and limbs of the haerunwoln below. For the first time, Adam realized the children didn’t change, but then, Duin had said the Rite of the Sun only happened when leaving childhood. In the plaza, a toddler picked up a lantern berry that had fallen to the ground near her, and she carefully peeled back the brown paperlike leaves to reveal the tart orange fruit within before popping it into her mouth and chewing carefully. Then she sc
reamed as a charred body tumbled from above, a leg catching on the woven branch railing, the foot and calf hanging there as the rest of the body wrenched free and fell to the forest floor below.
People rushed to the edge to look down at the body, and then up to see where the corpse had fallen from. A ball of fire crackled through the canopy of the interlinked trees, causing blackened cinders to rain upon the upturned faces of the haerunwoln below. Then something slammed into the city, sending people sprawling to the floor.
Adam grasped Zoul’s reins tightly as wood creaked around them, the entire city groaning as the walkways shifted beneath them. One of the great trunks leaned precariously in toward the central trunk, sending stone light bowls, wooden furniture, and several haerunwoln tumbling off walkways. Some people managed to grab hold of another branch or scramble along a bucking walkway to another of the great ring of trees. Others clung to the trunk itself as it shuddered and swayed. As Adam watched, muscles frozen in shock, the sounds of green wood stretching and snapping reached his ears—a tree was falling in the forest.
“We need to run,” Duin said softly.
Not only was a tree falling in the forest, but a great tree was falling in the forest. A great tree that was easily wider than his apartment block at home was falling. Adam watched in horror as the trunk angled and fell hard against another on the other side of the city’s tree circle, causing the walkways leading from it to buckle and in several cases break, pulling on several of the other trees. Around the city, pandemonium broke loose as people scrambled for safety, and Captain Roelof’s increasingly frantic orders went unheeded.
“We run and everyone here is dead,” Adam said as he picked up his helmet and placed it on his head. After unbuckling the clips on his riding belt, he dismounted and handed Zoul’s reins to Duin. “Get him out of here. Get everyone out of here.”
“Adam—”
“I can distract her,” Adam said. “I’ll come when I can.”
“You can’t seriously go up there on foot,” Joeri objected. “What if you fall?”
“Then I don’t fall,” Adam said, trying to stop his hands from shaking. “I can’t bring Zoul up there. Duin, keep him out of Khalivibra’s line of fire, okay?”
