Having readied himself, Holt descended down through the gatehouse and outside. Ash roared at once and a company of guards leapt aside as the dragon bounded to meet him.
Ash bowled Holt right over and licked his face. Holt rolled from side to side, trying playfully to avoid Ash until he managed to catch one of the dragon’s talons and hold him in place.
“You’re not as squishy as before!”
Half gasping, half-laughing, Holt said, “This squishy human has made it through a lot already!”
After a few more rolls, Ash settled and the bond glowed warm. Holt gave him a hug around the neck and caught Osric giving them a disapproving look. Holt ignored him and checked on the black strip of Brode’s cloak wrapped around Ash’s eyes. It too had survived the carnage, but he tightened it to be safe. It was good to have this small piece of Brode with them, even if it would have to be replaced one day when Ash grew.
For now, Ash’s growth spurt had slowed. Pyra was about half the size of Clesh, and Ash smaller and weedier than her. Holt and Ash shared that wiriness to them. Holt expected to fill out in time, and Ash should as well although he couldn’t help but worry still for the dragon. Such worries were unlikely to ever leave him.
Holt ran his hand up and down Ash’s neck. “You were amazing yesterday. Flew just as we needed.”
“Down is hard to get wrong. It pleases me more that I scorched many bugs along the way.”
“There will be plenty more to come.” “They’ll regret meeting us on the battlefield.” “Until our bond frays or your core runs dry.”
Holt looked inward to check the state of Ash’s core. Now his bond was greater, more secure, his window into Ash’s soul was larger and clearer. It was easier to pick out the lunar motes from the confusion of other mote types. The core itself had been brought into sharper relief. At its heart Holt thought he saw something white and dense spinning.
Brode had spoken on the core changing its appearance to his human understanding as it matured and gathered power. His bond’s status was separate to that but his better insight into Ash’s soul was granting him more clarity already. Given Ash’s magic type, Holt had a strong suspicion as to what that white orb forming in the heart of Ash’s soul would become.
And as he focused solely upon it, he heard the music playing. The tinny quality to it had smoothed out, its rhythm calmer, stronger, yet a sadness echoed in it, as though a lone voice drifted across an endless night. Ash was the only one of his kind, and blind, and something of that had seeped into the music yet without a note of pity. Stoic. Resolute. Sad yes, but not pity.
Holt ran his hand up the dragon’s neck again. “We’ll fight them to the end.”
With that he parted from Ash, and as Osric spoke with his guard and Talia, he took in his surroundings. The island they had landed on was large enough for two fortified gatehouses guarding its bridges and little more. A narrow stretch of grassland curved south into the lake. Holt reckoned they had landed there as to their east was a greater island with walls and rooftops poking above ramparts.
With the looming clouds it was impossible to tell the time of day, although it was definitely daytime. Barely any lunar motes passed through the orbit of Ash’s core. Yet such was the dimness of the gray light which poked through the heavy clouds, torches were already being lit along the walls of the many isles of Sidastra. Torch fires flickered into life along the bridges and atop the siege platforms as well. Down at ground level Holt couldn’t get a clear sense of scale of the place but one island and the building at its heart did stand out.
In fact, it took his breath away.
In the center of the city sat what might have been a smooth white walled mountain with red slated peaks. Even at this distance its size crushed upon
his imagination. Numerous towers were set in and around it, topped with ballistae and catapult platforms. Surely it was impregnable from an aerial attack.
How many people lived and worked there? He let out a low whistle at the thought of the size of those kitchens, envisioning an endless sprawl of steaming pots, hot fires and worktables stretching into the distance. The clatter of hundreds of servants in such a cavernous space would surely be deafening.
Talia called him over then and they set off with the king’s guard, through the northern gatehouse to cross the bridge there. Ash stayed on the ground while Pyra took to the skies, keeping low and circling overhead. Another populated island lay before them and it seemed the palace crossing was still another four bridges away.
Holt kept pace just behind Talia. He didn’t feel like being too close to Osric if he could help it.
“Reports of the swarm toppling Fort Ord arrived five days ago. I sense the attack is imminent.”
“How great is the swarm?” Talia asked.
“As a dragon rider I’d hoped you’d tell me.” “This is my first real incursion, uncle.”
“Might be your last. Inspect the defenses. That is what the Order does, is it not?”
“I don’t—” but she cut herself off. She turned to Holt, looking determined. “Come on.”
Pyra swooped down and Talia jumped from the bridge onto her back. Despite all he’d seen, Holt was impressed. Osric walked on. His royal guards, however, looked to Holt as though expecting he equal Talia’s feat. He swung himself up onto Ash without giving them a second glance.
“Something troubles you.”
“It’s nothing,” Holt muttered. Only it wasn’t. “Being away from other people for a while… just with Brode and Talia… it was easier to forget what things are like. Let’s not fall behind now.”
They both focused their hearing upon the lapping water beneath the bridge as they began the sense-sharing technique. Once done, Ash took off after Pyra.
Islands stretched out to each point on the compass and in every size and shape. The majority clustered to the west, but three ‘rings’ of islands could
be discerned. The outer ring, the inner and the central. At the heart of the central ring was the palace isle itself.
Between each major ring were smaller pieces of land used as bridge supports, gate houses or jetties. Certain isles between the outer and inner rings had been given over entirely to trebuchets, enormous siege engines which could hurl rocks far onto an army gathering on either bank.
The scale of the defenses was visible everywhere. Platforms and towers for ballistae were densely packed throughout the city; rooftops adapted for everything from siege equipment to archery work. Yet there was beauty also. Wide boulevards seemed common in the central ring, with trimmed trees lining the walkways. Private gardens, their blooming colors faded in the gray light but nonetheless there, orchards too, hedge mazes and grand statues of noble and rider alike.
A place worth saving, Holt thought. Even were the people not here.
Evidence of the Summons could be seen in the countless trickles of smoke and steam rising across the islands. Tens of thousands had traveled to the city, temporarily swelling its population to draw the swarm. Sidastra was supposed to be their haven.
Holt faced west. Out there, far beyond the city’s white walls the swarm gathered. How close would it be now? A day or so by flight but the ghouls and other land-based bugs might take longer.
A background buzz filtered down from the dark skies. Their pursuers had clearly hung around out of sight in those unnatural clouds where their most powerful enemy most likely concealed himself.
If this was to be their end, then Holt had to find his father today. Right now.
There was a lonesome looking island to the south of the west quarter, connected by a bridge much longer than the others. A great plume of smoke rose from a corner of that island, suggesting a controlled bonfire. Unlike any other isle save for the great western and eastern entrances to the city, this one was also connected to the shore. To Holt it seemed darker than the rest of the city; having an aura about it that made his blood run cold.
“I sense the blight there,” Ash said.
“Maybe we can help?”
Before Holt and Ash could decide upon that, Talia and Pyra had moved off to patrol the city. He and Ash followed, and after a couple of loops of Sidastra they made toward the great red tiled palace.
They landed inside the island’s walls and Osric and his entourage soon caught up with them.
“Well?” he demanded.
Talia dismounted. “Everything looks well manned on an initial sweep, but we might be better served to place more men in the west quarter. A besieging swarm is supposed to attack over days, sometimes weeks, hitting the walls in waves. But this one seems to be biding its time. Perhaps gathering its full strength before attacking. I fear we won’t repel it if it comes at once.”
Osric gave nothing away. He waved a hand toward the palace. “Further discussion of strategy should take place inside.”
Holt found his voice then. Talia could discuss strategy and the business of Harroway with Osric quietly herself, but he had his own pressing concerns.
“Your Majesty,” Holt began, “by your leave I wish to search for my father. He will have arrived with refugees from the Crag. If he made it.”
Once more Osric’s attention fell fully unto Holt and that piercing stare seemed to root him to the spot. “It’s my understanding that riders swear away familial bonds. The defense of this city is more important than one man.”
Holt looked to Talia, but she only looked guilty herself.
“Your Majesty is correct that such oaths are sworn by riders of the Order.” Conjuring the right words to speak in this manner was careful work, taking attention and thus slowing his speech. Better than Osric finding his manner too common. “Yet I have not had the opportunity to take my oath.”
Osric frowned.
Afraid the king was weighing up whether to arrest him on the spot, Holt continued, “Though riders do not partake in the wars between realms or aid their family in any other way, surely affection cannot be wholly withheld. Oath or no. You yourself, Your Majesty, greeted your own niece warmly today.”
“I did,” Osric admitted.
“Then you surely understand my desire to know of my father’s fate even if I one day swear to cut ties from him. Should I discover that he has… died… my position will only be clearer for it and I can return here in haste.”
Osric’s expression was impassive. “Had you taken your oath you would be under the command of one of your own superiors. I defer to my niece on
this issue, though I see you are your own man, Holt Cook. I cannot command it, but I advise you heed her authority. The measure of a man is not in willfulness but doing his duty.”
Talia licked her lips. Holt gave her an imploring look. Surely, she wouldn’t ask him to stay just to appease her uncle.
“Go, Holt,” she said.
“Thank you.” He inclined his head awkwardly to her as though a month’s worth of friendship had been undone in an instant.
“Very well,” said Osric. “Although I would not get your hopes up. Civilians from the far west were placed in quarantine upon arrival. Many were infected with the blight and few have been deemed symptom free long enough to be allowed to cross.”
Holt’s insides froze over. If he was too late— “My men can escort you,” Osric said.
“There is no need,” Holt said, thinking on that lonesome, sad island. “As you will.” The king swept away without another word, his guard
following in his wake. Talia held back then came over to Holt.
“I’m sorry about all that,” she said in an undertone. Holt shrugged. Now wasn’t the time to discuss it. “I hope you find him. I hope he’s… I hope it’s not too late.”
Holt smiled but struggled to find his voice again. Now the time had come to learn of his father’s fate, the weight of the worst case felt unbearable.
“Listen,” Talia said, “don’t draw too much attention if you can help it.” She checked again for any eavesdroppers before continuing. “Harroway’s men could be anywhere. Once I tell my uncle he’ll want to move quickly. We’ll need your help in case things get violent.”
“Of course,” Holt croaked through his dry throat. “We’re in this together.” Thinking on the evidence her brother Leofric claimed to have hidden for her, he added, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“You too.” With that she ran off after her uncle.
Pyra puffed smoke in his direction, said, “Good luck, little one,” and followed Talia.
Ash braced himself, clearly preparing to fly again.
“No, Ash,” Holt said. “Stay here with Pyra. Get some food. I can tell how hungry you are, remember?”
Ash rumbled and beat his tail. “I’m always hungry! And this is far more important.”
“Thank you,” Holt said softly. He needed Ash to come more than Ash knew. Or maybe Ash did know. Sometimes it felt as though they didn’t need words even when not sense-sharing.
He climbed onto Ash’s back, ready for the final leg of his journey.
