Skyborn

by Lou Anders

  “I, King Asterion, dare.” A large figure pushed his way forward through the crowd, coming to stand before the thrones and beside the empusa. Thianna saw that it was a living version of the statue—a great, bullheaded man. He carried his own double-bladed ax. And from the way he stomped his hooves and snorted his wide nostrils, he was very angry.

  “Correction,” said Karn. “Now that’s a minotaur.”

  “This is no statue,” the king continued. “It’s my cousin, Tappos. He disappeared into the cave of the gorgons two weeks ago and never came out. I told him foraging for mushrooms wasn’t worth risking their gaze. But he wouldn’t listen. He’s an idiot, I’ll grant you that, but he’s not a statue.”

  “He is now,” said the herald.

  The minotaur blew an angry breath.

  “Then let me take him back home to Labyrinthia. He should rest among fellow minotaurs in the grasslands, not be exhibited as a trophy on some godsforsaken mountaintop.”

  “Careful, Asterion,” said the crueler of the two queens. “The gods may have been driven from their mountaintops, but the goddesses have not. Don’t offend them, or me, by casting aspersions on our city.”

  “Apologies, Queen Xalthea,” said the minotaur king, pawing the ground nervously. “It’s a lovely city you have here, I’m sure, as such places go. If elevation is your thing and all. I only meant that Tappos is not a piece of art.”

  “Ah, but he is,” the queen called Xalthea continued. “Quite a lovely one at that. I understand you beast folk may not have an appreciation for the finer points of higher culture, but let me assure you that Tappos is now a most exquisite piece of statuary.”

  “Nonetheless, I demand they return him to us,” said Asterion.

  “You demand?” Xalthea raised an eyebrow. Though her tone was soft, Thianna observed how everyone—even her fellow queen—suddenly became tense.

  “Or…,” stammered Asterion, “accept him as our tribute, not theirs.”

  “Absolutely not!” yelled an empusa, and the fires on her head shot a full foot higher into the air. “We risked the gorgons’ cave to claim it. It is our tribute and ours alone.”

  “He’s not tribute, he’s my cousin!” roared the minotaur, hefting his ax menacingly. He snorted in the empusa’s face as the flames writhing around her head began to spread to her shoulders and run down her arms.

  “Enough!” shouted the herald. At her words, soldiers on the balconies hoisted fire lances into position. “Lower your ax and quench your flames or you will both roast on the spot.”

  Grumbling, King Asterion slowly lowered his weapon. The empusa’s fire damped until it burned only on her head.

  “We are pleased to accept this fine statue.” Queen Melantha spoke for the first time. “However,” she continued, “we will do so on behalf of both parties, as a joint gift.”

  “Joint?” Xalthea seems as surprised by her co-monarch’s words as the minotaur and empusa.

  “Yes, joint,” said Melantha. “As Tappos was King Asterion’s cousin, I’m sure the empusa would be happy to share the credit for gifting him to us.” She looked at the empusa sternly. “I suggest that you are happy.”

  The empusa bowed, though her flames guttered and cracked when she cast a sideways look at the minotaur.

  “And you, Asterion,” said Xalthea. “Are you happy?”

  “Happy enough,” said the minotaur king. “He is, after all, my cousin. A conundrum.”

  “Then we are pleased with your tribute,” Melantha continued.

  “But now we have other matters,” Xalthea finished. “You have all brought your children as instructed?”

  There were rumblings throughout the assembly at this, but the queens ignored them.

  “Send the young ones forward.”

  No one immediately moved to comply. While Xalthea maintained her fake smile, soldiers moved through the crowd, encouraging the children to come to the front.

  “We have a wonderful opportunity for you,” the Sky Queen continued. “You’re all to come and live in the palace.”

  The grumblings turned to shouts of alarm from the adults and cries of fear from the children.

  “This is outrageous!” the minotaur king roared, losing his temper again. “We already pay you tribute enough. Now you want our children as hostages!”

  Xalthea frowned.

  “They are no such thing,” she said. “At the palace, they will be honored guests. And they will receive all the benefits of courtly life. We will give them the same education we give our citizens. Surely no beast folk have ever had the like.”

  “A pretty cage is still a cage,” Thianna whispered to Karn. The frost giant had plenty of experience with bullies, and she knew when she was facing one.

  “You will all be honorary citizens of Caldera,” Queen Melantha said, smiling encouragingly at the young ones. “In time you will appreciate this honor.”

  “Don’t think we don’t see through this,” Asterion continued. “You worry you can’t control the next generation of wyverns after the Great Hatching, so you take our children from us to compel our loyalty!”

  “I won’t go,” a young minotaur suddenly roared. “Father, tell her you won’t let them take me!”

  The boy ran to his father, who put an arm around his shoulder protectively.

  From the balcony, Thianna saw multiple fire lances trained on the pair. The crowd noticed too, and they stepped away from the minotaurs.

  “Asterion, you may leave your child in our care now, or your honor guard can carry his ashes back to Labyrinthia in a funeral urn. A little one.”

  The king lowered his horns.

  “I am sorry, son.”

  “No,” the boy cried. “Fight them, Father. We can fight them together!”

  “No, son.” The minotaur king bowed his head in shame and anger.

  “Why won’t you fight them?” his son wailed.

  A guard gripped the boy’s arm, but he shook it off.

  Asterion knelt before his child.

  “Today is not the day,” he said. “One day you will understand.”

  Thianna saw the young minotaur’s face fall. His shoulders slumped as he was led away to join the rest of the hostage children.

  “We will show you to your new quarters,” Queen Melantha said to the children as they were herded out of the room. “I promise, it will not be unpleasant for you,” she added, though the air was full of wailing voices.

  “How could all their parents just give them up like that?” Thianna asked.

  “I don’t think they had any choice,” Karn replied. “But it was a mistake.”

  “Ymir’s frozen toes, it was a mistake,” agreed Thianna.

  “No, I mean a tactical one,” said Karn. “Their control is slipping. Pushing their subjects like this is going to cause a rebellion. Sooner or later, somebody is going to oppose the queens’ hold and take a shot at them.”

  Thianna looked at him, an angry glare in her eyes.

  “They’ll have to stand in line.”

  —

  Asterius fought back tears as the soldiers led him from the room. Around him an unfamiliar assortment of people moved. Some were human—their bodies familiar but their small, hornless heads so strange. How did they think with such tiny craniums? How did they fight without any horns? How did the bronze contraption beside him think at all? At least the satyrs in the group had horns, even if they were embarrassingly tiny.

  They passed through a doorway into a large space. Despite himself, Asterius gasped. To say the room was opulent was an understatement. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, and lushly upholstered chairs and couches were arrayed around the detailed mosaic of the floor. A central table was piled with food. Several of the younger children cried out excitedly at this and ran to sample the delicacies. Asterius noticed a tray offering an assortment of grasses and wheat. He started to join the others, but then his pride returned. He had just been ripped from his father’s side. He wouldn’t be won so easily
. This didn’t stop his stomach from rumbling as he watched the little ones gobble down the treats. He folded his arms and belched up the cud he had been chewing earlier to give his watering mouth something to do.

  “I guess lifeless stone is no substitute for open grasslands,” said someone beside him. “Or a thick forest.”

  Asterius started. He had mistaken the creature beside him for a decorative plant. But now that he looked, he saw that it was a sort of girl. She had bark for skin, and the minotaur couldn’t tell if her leaflike clothing was something she wore or grew. Branches twining up from the green growth on her head at least resembled horns.

  “Are you a drus?” he asked.

  “I’m a dryad,” she said, smiling shyly. “Drus is what we call the boys.”

  “I’ve never met tree folk before,” said the minotaur.

  “Well, Dendronos is far to the north,” she said.

  “And Labyrinthia far to the south.”

  “I guess we’re both a long way from home,” the dryad said. She smiled shyly again. “My name is Daphne.”

  Asterius thought she seemed very nice. But then he remembered that he was little more than a glorified prisoner in Caldera. It was his duty to be miserable and difficult. Making friends ran counter to that.

  “Asterius, son of Asterion, prince of Labyrinthia,” he said, drawing himself up so that his horns were as tall as possible.

  “Well, then, if you put it that way, I’ll have you know that I’m Daphne, seedling of the Council of Elders, princess of the forest kingdom of Dendronos.”

  “Forests,” he snorted. “No better than this silly mountaintop.”

  “It is better,” Daphne said. “Anyway, I’m sure it’s a lot more interesting than some flat, boring old plain.”

  “What would a plant know?”

  Daphne stamped her foot and walked stiffly away from him. Asterius felt a tinge of regret watching the fluttering leaves of her retreating back. He knew no one in Caldera, and she had been nice to him. But he wasn’t here to make friends. The first chance he got, he was going to escape.

  —

  “So this is the half giant.”

  Queen Xalthea leaned forward on her throne, peering down her nose at Thianna.

  “Yes, my queen,” Leta said. “Her father was a frost giant from the land of Ymiria.”

  “We have giants here too,” Xalthea said. She wrinkled her nose as she spoke, as though she couldn’t stand the taste of the word giants in her mouth. “Uncouth, loutish beasts that plague our hills.”

  “I’ll show you who’s uncouth,” Thianna growled. Beside her, Karn placed a hand on her shoulder. They were in enough danger without his friend losing her temper.

  “Yes, that’s pretty much how they behave here as well,” the Sky Queen said. “Stomping and roaring and brandishing their clubs.”

  Thianna flushed in anger and embarrassment.

  “But we must remember that she is also Talaria’s daughter,” said Queen Melantha in a somewhat gentler tone. The Land Queen addressed Thianna directly. “Your mother lived here for a time, child. She held a position of great honor.”

  “Until she cast it away,” Xalthea said with a sneer. “To live with barbarians in a frozen wasteland.”

  “Still, Xalthea,” said Melantha, “if this girl hadn’t recovered the Horn of Osius we would not have it now. It is due to her intelligence and resourcefulness, more than that of our own soldiers”—here she threw a frown Leta’s way—“that the horn has returned to where it belongs.”

  “Are you suggesting we owe her our gratitude?” said Xalthea. “When she has opposed us at every turn?”

  “With only her mother’s example, how else could she act? But let the young woman see our culture, our great civilization, and perhaps we can direct her resourcefulness to a more appropriate direction.”

  Xalthea addressed Thianna.

  “My co-monarch believes that I should thank you.” The Sky Queen’s smile was as welcoming as a snake’s. “But I don’t feel like it. No. You have cost us too much trouble in addition to the loss of a valuable officer.”

  “You’ve got a messed-up definition of valuable if you mean Sydia,” said Karn.

  “Males have no place speaking to our queens like that,” said Leta. “Barbarian males, even less. You will hold your tongue or lose it.”

  “It’s you who have no place talking to my friend like that,” said Thianna.

  “And this other one, the sickly-white little girl, is she your friend too?” asked Xalthea.

  Thianna glanced at the elf. Desstra looked at her hopefully. The giantess turned to the queens.

  “She’s with me,” Thianna said.

  “Then you can all go to the prisons together.”

  Leta’s soldiers moved to take hold of Thianna, but suddenly Desstra sprang. The nimble elf seized hold of a soldier’s lance and used it to vault over the confused woman. Landing, she swung a leg to swipe the soldier off her feet.

  Thianna took advantage of this distraction by grabbing two more soldiers by their necks and smashing their heads together. Their helmets rang out loudly as they collided. Stunned, the women dropped to the ground.

  Karn quickly relieved the fallen guards of their swords. He tossed one to Thianna and kept another for himself. The crowd fell back around them. Amid the cries of alarm, he thought he heard several people cheer. Certainly one exultant peal of laughter sounded like the roaring of a bull.

  Then the guards were converging on them from all directions. In the fray Thianna managed to secure another sword. She fought two-handed, a blade in each fist. Karn found that a nonmagical blade was harder for him to wield than Whitestorm had been. He defended himself admirably, but he couldn’t force an advantage. Elsewhere, Desstra struggled against several soldiers. She was outnumbered, but the elf was too fast for them to catch.

  The two monarchs watched all of this impassively from their dais. “You see,” said Melantha, “she is quite a capable young woman.”

  “Perhaps,” said Xalthea. “A pity then she’s a half-breed.”

  “The half-breed is making a fool of our soldiers,” observed Melantha.

  “The crowd gives her an advantage. She is just a child. If she fought in the open, she would be ash by now.”

  “The crowd seems to like her,” Melantha pointed out.

  Indeed, quite a few of the people in the audience were openly cheering the giantess as she fought against their oppressors. They might not have the nerve to rebel themselves, but they were happy to see someone else do it.

  Thianna laughed as she battled two opponents. She thought she might actually get away. Then a shadow fell across her. She looked up just in time to see a heavy wall canopy falling over her head. With a cry of “Troll dung!” she was carried to the ground by the weight of the tapestry. Blows rained down on her through the canvas as more soldiers kicked and beat her under the hanging.

  “Okay, okay!” she yelled. “I quit.”

  When the canopy was pulled away, Thianna saw Karn and Desstra surrounded with flame lances trained on them. The audience had fallen back, giving their enemies a clear shot. The fight was over for now. But Thianna also saw something else: a young girl, about her age though obviously not her size, who glared at her with angry satisfaction on her face.

  Thianna realized it was this girl who had torn the hanging from the wall and thrown it over her. She was the only one in the room smart enough to bring the frost giant down. As the soldiers marched her from the court, Thianna gave the girl a slow nod to let her know she’d marked her. They’d meet again, Thianna was sure, and the frost giant swore that next time she’d have the upper hand.

  “That was fun while it lasted,” Thianna said. They were moving through corridors, presumably heading to wherever prisoners were kept. Desstra trailed a little ways behind them.

  “You need to trust her,” said Karn. He spoke deliberately in Norrønian so that their guards couldn’t understand.

  “We would
n’t be in this mess but for her,” Thianna replied.

  “Well, we’re in it now,” Karn snapped. “And we need to work as a team if we’re going to get out of it.”

  Suddenly their guards stopped short.

  Another group of soldiers stood in the corridor in front of them. And someone was with them—Queen Melantha.

  “Where are you taking these three?” the queen asked.

  “To the prison cells,” a perplexed guard replied.

  “These are not common prisoners to be housed in common cells,” the Land Queen said. “We must find better accommodations for them. For now, you will house them in the palace wing where the hostage princes and princesses are lodged.”

  “But our orders—”

  “Come from one queen and now from another.”

  The guards bowed. Caught between rulers, they clearly didn’t want to upset the one in front of them.

  Queen Melantha approached Thianna.

  “I cannot go against my fellow monarch, the Sky Queen,” she said. “But I can mitigate the blow. You will be more comfortable while we decide what to do with you.”

  The queen turned abruptly and left with her guard.

  “What was that about?” asked Karn.

  “I don’t know,” Thianna said.

  “A friend?”

  “I don’t think so. But maybe not an enemy.”

  —

  Melantha mused over Talaria’s child as she walked away. The girl was unusual, not only for her size. But there was a strength to her, and strength should not be wasted or disrespected. Not when it could be harnessed.

  “That was foolish.”

  The Land Queen looked up. She wasn’t used to being challenged. Then she saw who had spoken so boldly. Her niece leaned against a wall. Poor Sirena. She seemed so much smaller, so much younger, without armor, shield, and sword.

  “You were eavesdropping on your queen?” Melantha said with a sad smile.

  “I was surprised by encountering my aunt,” the girl answered. “I didn’t expect to run into you. I only wanted another glimpse of the barbarian.”

  “For what purpose?” the queen asked.

  “To understand my enemy,” said Sirena.