Skyborn

by Lou Anders

  The sphinx thought about this.

  “Perhaps I could ask you a riddle,” she said. “It’s a really good one. It goes like this: I fall when I am born. I die when I am warm—”

  “Let me ask you one instead,” the guard captain interrupted. She was really quite rude. “What burns when it doesn’t do as it was told?”

  The sphinx considered for a moment. Then she noticed that the two guards on either side of the black-caped woman had both aimed their lances right where she was sitting. Their fingers were on the triggers, ready to shoot the deadly Thican fire at a moment’s notice.

  “Well, that’s an easy one,” said the sphinx. She waved a paw at the soldiers. “You really shouldn’t have given me such a strong hint. It spoils the challenge.”

  “Would you like an even stronger hint?” Leta asked. She nodded at the soldier on her right, who shot a burst of flame from her lance. The fire passed right over the sphinx’s left shoulder, singeing the hair of her mane.

  “Hey,” she objected, “I just had that combed!”

  “I will burn the rest of it, and you with it,” said the woman. “Along with as many of your irritating little friends as I can, if you do not answer my question.”

  “Sphinxes burn. That’s the answer.”

  “Not that question,” said the woman. “The one about the fugitives. Where did they go?”

  “Well, that’s not a proper riddle,” said the sphinx. “You didn’t even actually ask it. You just implied it.”

  Leta sighed.

  “Light her up,” she said to her soldiers.

  “No, wait!” cried the sphinx. “I can do this. You’re talking about that blond-haired boy and the minotaur?”

  “Yes,” said Leta. “It’s the blond I am most concerned with.”

  “They left here yesterday.”

  “And they were heading…?”

  “South.” One of the kobalos chattered. “No,” said the sphinx. “It was southwest. Straight southwest.”

  Leta smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.

  “Thank you. I believe I know where they are heading.”

  She donned her helmet and mounted her wyvern.

  “Have fun in your ruins,” she said. Then all three beasts rose into the air. The kobalos chittered angrily at the cloud of dust.

  “Well now,” said the sphinx, “who’s a self-important harpy with no appreciation for history?”

  Around her the kobalos twittered.

  “It was a rhetorical question!” said the sphinx. “I didn’t expect an answer. I’m just saying that things aren’t like they used to be.”

  Karn’s backside was starting to seriously ache. His second day on the hippalektryon riding without a saddle was taking its toll. On the plus side, he was getting to be a much better rider. But he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to sit down again.

  They were moving at phenomenal speed across the open grasslands, having left the mountain range behind them in the north. Karn shook his head.

  “I’ve never been anywhere so flat,” he said.

  “Flat?” the minotaur replied.

  “The ground,” said Karn. “Norrøngard—where I’m from—is mostly mountains. We’ve got flatlands, but they’re wooded and hilly. This is, well…”

  “As flat as a pancake,” suggested Asterius. “That’s what the northerners say.”

  “What’s a pancake?” Karn asked.

  “A waste of good wheat,” said Asterius. When Karn frowned, he added, “Flour, olive oil, honey, and milk. Mixed together and cooked in a frying pan. I’ve never had one, of course, but some people seem to like them.”

  “Remind me to try one when this is over,” said Karn. He turned to the bull boy. “You are sure your father will help us?”

  “Absolutely,” said Asterius. “You’ll see. My father is the bravest minotaur that ever lived.”

  “Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” said Karn. A city had appeared on the horizon.

  “Home,” said the bull boy enthusiastically. He spurred his mount forward.

  At the speed the hippalektryons traveled, spotting a destination and reaching it was a matter of heartbeats. Karn marveled at the sight that came into view.

  Labyrinthia was a round city surrounded by a high wall. A massive gate loomed up before them, flanked by two towers with stone protrusions carved to resemble horns. Asterius explained that the gate was one of four, each set at one of the cardinal points. As the hippalektryons halted, they were challenged by a soldier.

  “Who goes?” the soldier called, peering down at them from a tower.

  “Open in the name of the prince!” demanded Asterius to the guard. “Or do you want me to tell my father that you kept us waiting?”

  “My prince,” the guard hastily apologized. “We did not expect you. Are you not a guest of the Calderans?”

  “More like a prisoner!” yelled Asterius. “Now open the gate.”

  The portcullis rose, and Asterius turned to Karn and grinned.

  “Now you can see what a real city is like,” he said.

  Karn wanted to reply that he had been in many real cities, but he could tell the bull boy was proud of his hometown, so he kept his mouth shut. However, he couldn’t help but let it fall open when they rode through the entrance.

  The high walls that surrounded Labyrinthia continued inside the city itself. They lined the street, which was empty at ground level. Instead, homes and other structures hung from the sides of the walls, stopping about a story shy of the earth. Retractable ladders and staircases folded down from their lowest floors. While the streets were crowded with people—all of them minotaurs—there were no structures at this level.

  “Why are the houses on the walls?” asked Karn.

  Asterius gave him a look that said the question was a dumb one.

  “For defense, of course,” he said. “Even if someone breaches the walls and gets inside, they are still at a disadvantage. At least, someone who can’t fly,” he added, a bitter note in his voice.

  Karn looked upward at the buildings. Some seemed a part of the wall; others were precariously hung upon it. While the walls were of stone, many of the buildings were wooden. The streets themselves were often covered with grass rather than paved, and they seemed to be laid out in an odd pattern. He couldn’t make sense of it at first, but then he remembered the name of where they were.

  “Asterius,” he asked, “are we in a maze?”

  The minotaur smiled.

  “Labyrinthia is a giant maze,” he said. “My father’s palace is at the heart.”

  “Labyrinthia is a labyrinth,” said Karn. “Of course. But how do you find your way around?”

  “A minotaur is never lost in a maze,” said Asterius with a snort. “We love walking their paths. And anyway, it’s another layer of defense if the city walls are breached.”

  As it turned out, however, Karn thought the benefit was far outweighed by the monotony of treading the circuitous route to the city center. Labyrinthia was certainly an interesting place, but he couldn’t imagine having to switch back and forth so often every time you wanted to get from one side of the city to another. Unless you were a minotaur, it would be too much hassle. Eventually, they reached an open square at the center of the maze, where an enormous building stood.

  “My friend,” said Asterius, “welcome to the Palace of the Double Ax.”

  —

  Crack!

  The noise rang out in the courtroom. Karn couldn’t see for the crowd of minotaurs in his way, but it sounded like some sort of fight was taking place before the throne. Asterius grinned.

  “You’re going to love this,” he said, pushing his way through the spectators and urging his companion on.

  Karn was unnerved by the herd of bull folk in the room, all cheering and snorting and stamping their hooves. He couldn’t help but think what would happen if they decided to stampede. Nor was such a thing impossible indoors.

  The courtroom was large and high-ceili
nged, which Karn supposed made sense for a people who loved the open plains. Moreover, it was decorated with elaborate tile mosaics that formed an intricate maze running across the walls, floor, and ceiling. Throughout the design, minotaurs were depicted engaging in battle with foes and monsters. Karn found the pattern dizzying to look at. It drew his eyes and distorted his sense of depth. He felt a headache coming on, but none of the minotaurs seemed bothered. Karn kept his eyes forward as he followed Asterius through the crowd.

  Crack! Pushing to the front, Karn saw that two enormous bull folk were butting heads in a contest of strength. The sound of their skulls crashing into each other rang out in the courtroom. The male warrior staggered under the blow, but the larger female bellowed a challenge at him. They lined up again, pawing the earth, then lowered their heads and charged.

  Crack! This time both contestants went down, dropping to the floor, stunned.

  “Marvelous!” King Asterion roared. He was seated on a large metal throne, the back of which was cast to look like a gigantic double-bladed ax. “Did you see that?” he said, grabbing his nearest warrior-advisor by the horn and pulling the man’s ear to his mouth. “I thought she had him, but he rallied brilliantly, and they took each other out! A tie!” He pounded a fist on the table before him in joy, then grabbed a wide drinking cup and tossed a large gulp into his mouth. The red wine spilled and ran down his chin.

  “Next!” the king hollered. He looked to his warrior-advisors, seated four on either side of his throne. “Where is our next challenger? Come now, don’t be shy. Who will be next?”

  “I will!” called Asterius, stepping forward from the crowd to approach his father.

  “Who?” said the king, looking for the latest volunteer. The joy faded from his eyes as he recognized his son.

  “Asterius,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I escaped, Father,” said the boy. “I fought the Calderans and won my freedom.”

  Standing slightly behind the bull boy, Karn coughed.

  “With my companion,” Asterius amended. “He helped a little bit too.”

  “A little bit?” said Karn.

  “You fought?” said the king, ignoring Karn. “You escaped?”

  “Yes,” said Asterius, puffing out his chest. “I am a brave warrior, like you.”

  But King Asterion shook his massive horned head.

  “I am not pleased, my son,” he said. “Not pleased at all. This is a most difficult situation you have placed me in. Most difficult.”

  Asterius was taken aback.

  “You’re not happy to see me?” he said. The bull boy’s bottom lip began to quiver.

  “It is not my unhappiness,” said the king, “but Queen Xalthea’s that should concern you. It was not my wish, but her command, that you were to be left as hostage in Caldera.”

  “I’m not afraid of her,” said Asterius, trying to put some bluster into his voice but failing. The minotaur had been so sure that his father would be glad to see him. Karn realized that he was devastated by the king’s reaction.

  “Then you are foolish,” said the king. “The twin queens rule all of Thica, and we follow their decrees lest fire rain from the sky. You must return at once.”

  “I saw you in the court,” said Karn, speaking up. “You don’t like being under their rule. You’re practically…” He paused. He had been about to say “champing at the bit” but realized that a bridle metaphor might not go over with a bull man. “Bursting to fight them,” he finished.

  King Asterion turned his gaze to Karn for the first time.

  “And I will one day,” said the monarch. He lifted a large ax from beside his throne and shook it in his mighty fist. “This I swear by Teshub, god of sky and storm. But not today. For now we must pretend obedience while we bide our time.”

  “Wear their yoke, you mean,” said Karn. This time he was being deliberately provocative, and it worked. The king stood, hefting his ax again and stepping down from his throne. Beside him, his warrior-advisors lowed angrily.

  The king approached Karn, swinging his ax in a deceptively casual way. Karn swallowed. Maybe he had misjudged his approach.

  “You are one of the hostages?” the king said.

  “No,” said Karn.

  “A foreigner?” said the king. “Your hair is like wheat.”

  “I’m from Norrøngard,” said Karn. “My name is Karn Korlundsson.”

  The king snorted. The hot breath blew in Karn’s face. Karn raised a hand to shield himself from the smell. His eyes fell on his own ring finger. Karn held up the symbol of the Order of the Oak. When he had parted from Leflin Greenroot in the city of Castlebriar, the wood elf had told him it would open doors for him, maybe prevent a knife in the back. He wondered if it might also stop an ax in the head.

  “Does this mean anything to you?” he said to the king.

  The minotaur monarch squinted at Karn’s finger.

  “It’s a pretty ring. Silver, is it? A bit too small for my finger, though.” Asterion held up one of his thick digits and laughed.

  “It was worth a shot,” said Karn. So the minotaurs weren’t aware of the Order of the Oak. But maybe there were other reputations he could leverage. “I came here with Thianna Frostborn,” Karn said, “to find the Horn of Osius and destroy it.”

  There were exclamations of alarm throughout the court.

  “You came with the Frostborn?” said the king, looking at Karn with new respect. “Is it true she can use the horn?”

  “Yes,” said Karn. “But she’s already destroyed one of them. Help us, and she’ll destroy the other. You’re planning to rebel eventually. Help us now.”

  “An interesting conundrum,” said the king, lowering his ax. “Most interesting. I will think on it.” He waved for two of his warrior-advisors. “Take him away for now. Hold him somewhere secure.”

  “Wait,” said Karn. “We can fight the Calderans. We can fight them together.”

  “I will think on it,” said the king again, a threatening note in his voice. “But for now I desire more head-butting! Who’s next?”

  “Thianna, are you okay?” asked Desstra.

  “I’m fine,” the giantess answered brusquely. She’d stumbled on the rough tunnel floor. And not for the first time.

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “I told you, I’m okay,” she said.

  “You’re slowing down,” said the elf. “I think the venom is finally getting to you.”

  Thianna frowned. “It takes a lot of venom to knock me out,” she said. Then she glared at the elf. “You should know.”

  Desstra nodded. She did know. Thianna had an amazing constitution.

  “You also respond to antidotes remarkably fast,” she said. “If only I had some.”

  “None of those mushrooms you picked are any good?” the giantess asked.

  “I wish,” said Desstra.

  “Then we keep walking. If I’m going down, at least I can get you two as far from those bugs as possible.” Thianna’s face set into a stoic grimace and she marched on, but she stumbled now as often as she stepped.

  “Take it easy,” complained Daphne, uncurling a leaf from over her eyes and attempting to stretch her arms from atop the giantess’s shoulder.

  “Look who’s finally awake,” said Thianna, but the relief she showed in setting what should be a slight burden down worried Desstra.

  “You can wwwalk for yourssself,” the giantess said, slurring her words. Desstra gasped when Thianna dropped to one knee.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Daphne cried out in alarm.

  “She was bitten,” said Desstra.

  “Told you, I’mmm okkkay,” said Thianna. Then she fell down heavily on her bottom. “I waz okay. Maybe I’mma not okay. Maybe I’ll juss lie down.”

  “No,” said Desstra, who knew that Thianna shouldn’t give in to the venom. “You’ve got to get back on your feet.” She turned to Daphne. “Give me a hand, will you? Come on, Thianna, show me that
stubborn streak we all know and love.”

  “Stubborn?” said the giantess with a loopy grin. “Who you calling stubborn, Long Ears?”

  “I said help,” snarled Desstra at the dryad.

  “I am,” Daphne replied.

  The elf looked at the dryad. Daphne seemed to have sprouted a cluster of small red berries. She pinched them off, wincing slightly as she did so.

  “What are you doing?” said Desstra.

  “Saving your friend,” the tree girl replied.

  “Nah frinz,” said Thianna.

  Daphne crushed the berries in her hand, rubbing them into a paste. By this point Thianna had slumped to the ground. The dryad bent over her where she lay and pried her lips apart.

  “Ge yuhr finners outta my mowf,” muttered the giantess. But Daphne shoved the berry paste to the back of Thianna’s throat.

  “Yuck, bitter!” said Thianna quite clearly. She made a face.

  “Don’t spit it out!” Daphne yelled. “Help me make her swallow,” she said to Desstra.

  “Making her do anything isn’t easy,” said the elf, but together the two girls clamped hands over Thianna’s mouth and stroked her throat. The giantess tried to shake them off weakly, her lips screwed up at the unpleasant taste under their fingers. Eventually, however, the herbal medicine went down.

  Then Thianna bolted upright.

  “Make way!” she shouted, pushing past them.

  Desstra turned a questioning look on the dryad.

  “She’s going to, um, well, you know,” Daphne half-explained. “The venom is going to work its way out of her, pretty much every way it can.”

  “Oh,” said Desstra.

  “Yes,” said Daphne. “We should probably stand clear.”

  They walked a little ways away, while behind them Thianna began making unpleasant gulping noises. Soon the tunnel echoed with nauseating spattering sounds broken by intermittent shouts of “Troll dung!” and “Sweet Ymir’s feet!”

  Desstra gave Daphne a wry grin.

  “She may not thank you for this,” the elf said, “so let me. You saved her life.”

  “It’s nothing,” said the dryad.

  “No, it’s something,” said Desstra. “I admit I thought you were pretty useless when we got into a fight, but you’ve just proven how valuable you are.”