by Tammy Salyer
Despair, that too was just under the surface of the boy’s demeanor, about to crack through. Ulfric couldn’t let him get that far. “Listen to me, I have an idea about how we can do that. We need to challenge Tuzhazu one on one. And by we, I mean, you…sort of.”
“You mean to a fight?” He watched disbelief, then a hard acceptance cross Salukis’s face. “All right. I will face him, if I must. But I have to be honest, I don’t think that even if all five Verities smiled on me, I would be able to defeat him. Not on my own.”
“You won’t be on your own. Let me explain.”
Ulfric didn’t know if he could do it, but he wanted to give it a shot. He’d been able to make himself a part of Urgo—maybe he could do the same with Salukis. Even though the bruhawk had been endowed with the Verity’s spark, and Salukis wasn’t, the Fenestros might be just the conduit he needed to achieve the shift. Salukis wasn’t small for an Arc Rheunosian, though he didn’t have the full bulk and muscle that came with training and age. Still, he was not wounded and he was young and nimble. With Ulfric helming him like a ship, in charge of his reflexes and movements, he was sure he could fight the Archon through Salukis. And all he needed was a chance to grab Balavad’s Fenestros, then he could use it to call off the Deathless just as Tuzhazu did to command them to fight.
Their advantage was that Tuzhazu would have no idea what Salukis was capable of. To get him to agree to fight Salukis, Ulfric was sure he could count on his cruel nature to prompt him to answer the challenge. Tuzhazu would see it as an easy kill and a way to personally make an example of the boy and show the Zhallahs what toll their rebellion would continue to take.
He explained this to Salukis. The youth blanched white and responded with one question, “If Tuzhazu kills me, what happens to Isemay?”
This caught Ulfric by surprise and turned his guts to stone. “I don’t know,” was all he could say, all he dared say. The question didn’t bear considering.
“And what about you? What would happen to you?”
The honest response was, No idea, but Ulfric didn’t want to give the boy any more doubts or burdens than he already had. “Then I’ll return to Urgo,” he stated coolly.
With one last flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, Salukis shrugged and said, “So what do I do?”
“Take the Mentalios, and you should have the memory keeper too, from Urgo.” The bruhawk leaned toward Salukis to allow him to retrieve the two pendants, and he slipped them on. “Now, hold the Fenestros and look into it while I speak.”
Salukis bent down and slowly wrapped his hand around the pale orb, reverently lifting it from between two of Urgo’s talons as if he, not the orb, might break if he moved too quickly. Holding it out cupped in his palms, he said, “I’m ready.”
Wasting no time, Ulfric chanted the Elder Veros phrase. Vesr sraak aak, sraka aak suu kaa. With thine eyes, these eyes too see. At first, he still felt firmly ensconced in Urgo’s form, the birds’ strange musculature, prodigious senses, and even his painful wing also Ulfric’s own. A heartbeat later, he felt an existential shift and was once again taken over by that hovering, weightless sensation he’d had at Citadel Suprima when he’d been expelled from his own body. Then it was over, and he felt…well, like a person again. His vision darkened, then his eyes opened to Urgo and Yggo perched before him.
Not my eyes, he thought. Salukis’s. Can you hear me, boy?
His body staggered as if struck, and he reached out his hands, looking for something to steady himself with. But there was a subtle tug at his back, and a sudden lightness overcame him. He realized his, Salukis’s, feet had left the ground as Salukis reflexively flapped his wings to regain his balance. That’ll take some getting used to, Ulfric thought.
“Smoking snouz shite!” the boy yelled. “You’re in my head!”
Yes, Ulfric said calmly. In your head, and your arms, legs, and everywhere else. I can see through your eyes, hear through your ears, all of it. Do you understand? If yes, think it, don’t say it.
Waves of jangled nerves washed through the youth, then finally, he collected himself. …Are you there?
Yes! Good, now let yourself relax while I get accustomed to your form.
Accustomed to my…like a puppet?
Ulfric didn’t answer, and he went through a few motions, learning what he could about taking over Salukis’s body. It was awkward and invasive to say the least, for them both, but Ulfric pushed them through it. He’d trained hundreds of acolytes at the Conservatum in his time, and reverting to the mode of trainer made it easier on both of them. Shortly Ulfric felt he knew what he needed to. This challenge to Tuzhazu, and the deception it involved, was their only weapon, and there was no more time to search for other options.
Ulfric sent: I’m ready, Salukis. Are you? He felt Salukis nod.
One last question, Salukis sent. Can you…read my thoughts?
Ulfric had caught a glimpse of the boy’s unconscious mind the moment he joined with him, but he’d quickly set up his own mental barrier to avoid intruding—and because of the thread of thought he’d apprehended that involved his daughter. He’d felt the boy’s own emotions, his awe of and devotion to Isemay. Ordinarily, this would have pleased Ulfric. Who doesn’t like knowing that others think highly of their offspring? But Ulfric had been a young man once, too, and he knew what lay at the end of that thread. He didn’t want to see that—not in the least. As far as he was concerned, Salukis only thought of his daughter as a friend, a plutonic friend. There was no use in scaring the boy by telling him Ulfric knew exactly what he’d been thinking about his daughter. So he sent: No. You’re a natural at this and your mind is closed to me.
He felt Salukis’s relief like cool water flowing over a fevered brow. All right.
Face the bruhawks a moment, please. Salukis did as asked, and Ulfric addressed the birds through his memory keeper. “Symvalline and Isemay are in the Cosmoculous Tower. No matter what happens down there on that field, I need you to go to them, protect them. With your last breath if that’s what it takes.”
The birds blinked their eyes at him, a sign of acknowledgment.
“It’s been an honor serving with you both.”
Yggo gave a soft churr, and Urgo clucked lightly.
It was time to go. Let’s capture a traitor, Salukis, and see justice done, he said, forcing a confidence he could tell neither of them fully felt into his tone.
Salukis answered, Here we go then.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Salukis dropped toward the battlefield without meeting any confrontation. The Minothians had let their guard down when the Zhallahs ran behind the Churss barricade. Still a dozen yards above the earth, the youth hovered a moment, waiting for Tuzhazu to respond to his, or rather Ulfric’s, challenge.
Ulfric’s calculation had been perfect.
Tuzhazu spun like a top whose string was yanked by an eager child. “What did you say to me, boy?” he growled. His sword appeared in his hand as if by magic, so smooth and fast was his draw. He waved aside a sudden rush toward Salukis by the Minothians, and they moved back, encircling them.
U-Ulfric, he’s going to cut me to pieces. Even Salukis’s internal voice shook.
Not if you let me handle this. Trust me, Salukis. He’s no match for me, for us.
Ulfric felt the young man struggle to relax his body, giving it over to Ulfric as much as he could, and they lowered to the ground.
Ulfric had Salukis repeat his words, buoying the boy and giving his voice power with his own courage. “You heard me. You think you’ve beaten the Zhallahs back through strength and cunning, but everyone here can see that your only strength is in artifice and lies. Put aside Balavad’s artifact, and what are you, Tuzhazu? A wicked fearmonger whose use of the title Archon demeans everything you pretend to stand for. You’re no servant of Mithlí. You’re a tool of fear and malice. And if you have a single drop of bravery in your twisted bones, you’ll face me—if for no other reason than simply to give your followers a
shred, the tiniest shred, of a reason to continue looking to you for leadership.”
Tuzhazu’s face flashed with rage, but he calmed quickly and drew back his lips into his brutal smile. “Boy, you must be the most dim-witted of the plague-bringers. I’ll do them a favor, then, and rid them of you. Where is your weapon?”
“Hand to hand. All Verity artifacts set aside.”
With a dismissive snort, the Archon turned and beckoned to his urzidae mount. It was still misshapen and serpentine, its maw dripping with a gray froth, its eyes blank, like stones. Tuzhazu sheathed his sword in a scabbard attached to the mount’s saddle, then dropped Balavad’s Fenestros into a pouch at his own waist, which he removed and tied it around the saddle horn. Ulfric observed closely.
The Archon paced toward him. His silver-green eyes flashed with intention, and his hands were held up clenched in ready fists. Ulfric gauged him to be about a head taller than Salukis, and at least three-stone heavier. He drew up Salukis’s own fists. Salukis, you’ll have to be the judge of how best to use your wings. That’s outside my field of experience.
Now you tell me! he responded.
Ulfric said nothing. He couldn’t—as Tuzhazu crashed forward without slowing, like an avalanche of wrath.
Ulfric had been prepared to dodge the man’s fists, but he’d not accounted for the metal-spiked wing tip that came directly at his face. He threw Salukis backward just in time, expecting to land flat out. But instead, the youth swung a wing, and they ended up moving to one side heavily, jerking them out of Tuzhazu’s range and keeping them upright.
That was much too close, Salukis and Ulfric said in unison.
“Watch out!” Salukis shouted out loud as Tuzhazu continued rushing them, never slowing.
At the youth’s words and voice, Tuzhazu’s brows steepled in a question. If he guessed what was happening, it didn’t slow him, though.
Dodge toward the urzidae, keep moving toward the beast, Ulfric directed Salukis as he focused on the sweep of Tuzhazu’s wings. They were an onslaught of sharp metal and hard bone, slicing toward them like a maelstrom, and it took both Salukis’s and Ulfric’s full concentration to keep far enough away not to get skewered.
Ulfric, we’ll never get close enough to fight him.
Remember, we only need to get that Fenestros. It’s the key to ending this.
Then Ulfric saw his opening. Tuzhazu drew his right wing back as the left swept forward. The momentum of the metal-laden bones pulled Tuzhazu into a twist, exposing the left side of his back to Ulfric, who closed in with the reflexes of a bruhawk, thanks to Salukis’s wings, and grabbed the root of the appendage with both hands. Mentally calling on strength from the Fenestros recovered from Deespora—he saw no reason not to cheat—he cranked against Tuzhazu’s wing like he was trying to draw out a corkscrew. The Archon gave a deep-throated cry of rage and pain as something in the wing gave, and with a hard twist of his body, he flung himself and Salukis to the ground.
His weight crushed every ounce of breath from Salukis, and Ulfric lost his grip on the wing. Tuzhazu scrambled to his feet. His wing hung limply, dragging on the ground. Salukis tried to pull himself upright, but Tuzhazu’s booted foot struck him in the ribcage, flipping his body to the side.
Salukis gave out a cry as a few ribs snapped.
Roll, roll, roll! Ulfric commanded him. In his pain, Salukis had wrested some of the control over his body from Ulfric. Now!
Despite the pain, Salukis managed to roll aside before Tuzhazu kicked him again, then came up hard against something immobile. Ulfric’s sight through Salukis’s eyes had blurred, but they cleared just enough for him to see he lay at the feet of an urzidae.
Tuzhazu’s urzidae.
Heedless of where the Archon was, Ulfric got Salukis on his knees and reached upward with Salukis’s hand and gripped the bag holding the Fenestros, yanking it as hard as the injured boy could. The bag’s strap would not give, though, until he called upon the Fenestros again. He realized he was getting weaker, or Salukis was. This was going to end soon, one way or another.
The bag came free. Ulfric reached inside and grabbed the Fenestros.
Tuzhazu’s great spike on his one usable wing speared Salukis through the back, the metal piercing all the way through his torso and emerging below his sternum. Salukis gave a breathless scream that sounded like one of the Deathless’s horrid screeches.
Oh Verities, no! Salukis, Ulfric cried. Hold on, boy, just hold on for a moment.
He could feel Salukis’s agony almost as sharply as if it were his own. Salukis’s eyesight was darkening rapidly, and, panicked, Ulfric realized the boy was going to die. And when he did, it wouldn’t matter that Ulfric had acquired Balavad’s celestial stone. He’d have no way to use it.
Gloating, Tuzhazu drew them skyward like a trophy of war. Salukis reached for his torso with his free hand. Ulfric thought he was grabbing the spike coming through his stomach, but his hand wrapped around the Mentalios lens. He pulled it over his head and said to Ulfric, The urzidae. He dropped the Mentalios chain around the beast’s horn.
Ulfric still gripped Balavad’s Fenestros in their other hand so tightly Salukis’s fingers were white. With the last of Salukis’s strength, he waved the stone in front of the beast. It’s empty eyes shifted to it, and he whispered through Salukis, “Vesr sraak aak, sraka aak suu kaa.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Isemay and Dwoon gawked at the sight of Salukis taunting the Archon. But she quickly realized this might be the distraction they required.
“Dwoon, go now, while they’re not paying attention,” she whispered. “It may be your only chance.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll only slow you down. Your wings can hide you better than they can hide both of us. Now, do it. Hurry.”
The truth was, Isemay didn’t trust her legs to hold her up after seeing the way the Archon charged Salukis, his wrath like a giant that would squash the youth the way Tuzhazu’s urzidae had Deespora. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, take her eyes off the fight. Salukis was managing, barely, to dodge every swipe of the Archon’s torn and burnt wings, but she could see from here he would tire quickly. The torrent of the Archon’s attack was relentless.
“I’ll meet you back at the Cosmoculous,” she reassured Dwoon through lips that felt increasingly wooden.
“Okay. Okay. Be careful,” Dwoon whispered.
He steeled himself, crouched low, wrapping his wings around as much of his body as he could, and emerged from their hiding spot. May Mithlí’s mercy go with you, she prayed. From the corner of her eye, all she could see was a strip of his back and his feet as he moved off, but most of her attention stayed on Salukis.
Salukis leaped like a cat and grabbed one of Tuzhazu’s wings when the Archon was off-balance. She could hear the snap from where she hid as something broke inside Tuzhazu and then he threw himself backward on top of Salukis. She gripped the edge of the storehouse reflexively, barely still concealed by the shadows.
Get up, Lukis. Get up, quickly!
Instead, he took a boot in his rib cage that she knew without a doubt had wounded him. He was rolling away, only stopping when he hit Tuzhazu’s urzidae. Oh Verities, what will it do to him?
But the urzidae merely craned its long neck to see the young man, drool spotting the ground as its head moved and its teeth were bared. Salukis was on his knees, reaching for Tuzhazu’s bag—for his Fenestros!
But he’s not an Archon, what can he do with that?
What happened next wiped all thought from her mind. Isemay’s vision went white, and her legs turned to water as Tuzhazu’s wing tip stabbed through Salukis, like a knife stuck through the middle of a bowl of jelly.
The next thing she knew, she was running, heedlessly, across the field, past Deathless Minothians lying on the ground, black pools of blood, and more Deathless who still watched the fight, their backs to her.
Then she was on the ground beside Salukis, who’d been shaken from Tuzhazu’
s wing. She collapsed onto her knees beside him.
“Why aren’t I surprised to see you here, young Vinnric?” a voice said over her shoulder, his voice, the Archon’s, but she paid him no mind.
“Salukis, Lukis, can you hear me?” she whispered, one hand cradling his head, the other placed over the red gash in his tunic that seeped blood, far too much of it. “Lukis, you can say something, can’t you? Tell me what to do, how do I help you?”
She heard a snort behind her. “Help him? You’re no tender, girl.”
Isemay chanced a look over her shoulder. Tuzhazu sneered at her and leaned down to retrieve Balavad’s Fenestros. It had rolled out of Salukis’s hand and come to a stop nearby. The Archon stood and tucked the stone inside his tunic and said, “I don’t know how you escaped the hall, but this time—”
She looked away from him, deciding that she wouldn’t look back. If he was going to kill her, the last thing she wanted to see was Salukis’s handsome face, that sweet, sardonic twist to his lips, even when he was unconscious. Or dead.
But there was a flash in the corner of her eye, and then she heard a whoomp sound, like a huge pile of laundry that had been dropped from far overhead. This did make her turn, and though her sight was blurred with tears, there was no mistaking what she was seeing.
Tuzhazu’s urzidae had streaked past her and was trying to gore the Archon to death. The Archon was holding its horn in both hands, straining hard to keep the creature’s head from pummeling him again. He was bleeding heavily from a puncture in one shoulder but still managed, somehow, to keep his grip.
“Guards!” he yelled. “Guards, get me away from this beast!”
Tuzhazu’s one working wing swept forward, trying to gore the beast with its metal tip, but the angle was wrong. The urzidae twisted its head violently, and Tuzhazu lost his grip and was flung aside. Lying on this back, he yanked the Fenestros free of his pouch and sat up, whispering words Isemay couldn’t hear. The beast lunged at him, then came to a sudden halt. It stood where it was, its head whipping back and forth as though it were trying to dislodge it from its own shoulders. It snorted with rage, great jets of froth coming from its nose and mouth.
