Lance of Earth and Sky

“Why would you send me to Malinai?” Vidarian demanded of Thalnarra, when he'd returned to the village and found her in front of the command tent with Meleaar.

// We thought he'd help you, // Meleaar said. // Or, he'd eat you. Either way, problem solved? //

// And I am sorry to pull you from one errand to the next, // Thalnarra said, and Vidarian turned to her tiredly. // But the Luminous has summoned you. They say they've made contact with Qui. //

“The ambassador?” Vidarian asked, already turning, shading his eyes and looking for the relay ship.

Thalnarra's beak nudged his forearm and he looked down again—then started when he saw the Luminous ground-anchored not a hundred lengths away. He looked back at Thalnarra, gave a small bow of thanks to her and to Meleaar, and ran for the ship.

In the relay chamber, a handful of folk were already gathered: Iridan, his hand on the relay sphere, projecting the images of an opulently dressed Qui woman and the Alorean ambassador; Malloray, watching from the rear with his arms folded; Marielle, staring intently at the Qui woman; and Khalesh, for the first time in days focused on something other than the Viere's power stones.

Vidarian took his seat, after bowing to the two women, though he wasn't sure if they could see him. The ambassador's face was fresh with tears; they must have just told her of the emperor's death. The Qui woman looked grim. She spoke a string of liquid syllables, the musical language sounding sophisticated no matter what it contained.

The ambassador translated, after clearing her throat, “Madam Councilor wishes to know, what is the status of the Alorean government?”

“It is a government-in-exile,” Marielle replied, and waited for the ambassador to translate between sentences. “The emperor was murdered by the Alorean Import Company. Prior to his murder, he had wished to open peace negotiations between Alorea and Qui, while the corruption of the Alorean Import Company is rooted out.”

“How do we know you represent the Alorean Empire?”

Marielle looked at Vidarian, as well she might, her imperial status being tacitly revoked when she became a pirate queen. “You don't,” Vidarian said. “Alorea has been invaded from within, and wars now with itself. What you know is that we will offer you an alliance, and the Alorean Import Company will not.”

“And if the Alorean Import Company is stronger?”

“Then you still have reduced forces attacking your army,” Vidarian replied, “as those loyal to the empire will draw down. They will wish for time to grieve, if not to abandon the conflict entirely.”

“And those territories our armies have already won?” At this the ambassador darted looks between the councilor and Vidarian, betraying her own feelings on the matter.

Vidarian in turn looked at Marielle, who gave a slight shake of her head. “This is something to negotiate more formally,” Vidarian hazarded. “We wish for an end to hostilities. If you would sign a treaty to allow free passage between Qui and Alorea, we would be willing to discuss some adjustment of border lines.”

The two women conferred, words passing between them like fish in a stream. Vidarian could only listen, fascinated but uncomprehending.

“You may come to us at Shen Ti,” the councilor said finally, in her own clear but accented High Alorean. “When you have established yourselves as rivals to the Alorean Import Company. We will send instructions. And, of course, guarantee your safety.”

“I will come myself,” Vidarian agreed, standing and resting his palms on the table. In any other circumstance he would offer his hand as proof of his intent.

The councilor seemed to understand, and said, “That will be most appreciated.”

A shudder rippled through the Luminous, and Vidarian grabbed the arms of his chair out of reflex. He looked to Khalesh, whose eyes had widened with horror and puzzlement. He gave the slightest shake of his head.

Vidarian rose, offering a quick, “Your pardon,” and left Khalesh and Iridan to explain his exit. He ran from the relay chamber, raced up the ladder, and searched the sky above the top deck, half expecting to see a punishing assault of skyships.

There were none, and he began to breathe a bit easier, and also to feel a bit silly for leaving the chamber so hastily. But then a flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye. He turned, lifting a hand to shade his sight, and searched for it.

When he saw it, Vidarian was sure his eyes had deceived him. It must be some artifact of the landscape, low brush that made the figure seem larger than it was, and farther away. But as he squinted and the shape drew nearer, its polished surface gleaming under the desert sun, dust swirling behind it as it tore through the ground on which it walked, his eyes insisted they did not deceive. And when the figure raised a glowing golden hand, and the ripples passed over him like a cold wind, preceding a thundering torrent of water energy that set the gryphons all around the encampment murmuring with almost a single voice, a cold and clenching dread in his stomach was terrible recognition:

It was Ruby.


Vidarian ran for the Luminous's bell, hauling on its line to raise the alarm throughout the ship. He rang furiously for several seconds, then stilled it, following the alarm with a single ring to draw the crew to the bow.

Marielle had been fast on his heels up the ladder, and stood by while he repeated the alarm signal again, scanning the sky. She hardened when she saw the line of skyships just appearing on the horizon, a hand drifting to the sword pommel at her side, but when Vidarian released the bell, he pointed to the rising dust below them on the ground. Shading her eyes, she stared, uncomprehending, then gasped as she, too, realized what they were seeing, the giant golden automaton closing on the camp.

“You need to get into the air,” Vidarian said, even as the figure on the horizon raised its arm again, fiery against the red sunset, and released a blast of water energy that drew a long line into the desert scrub, pointing south into the encampment.

“I do?”

But Vidarian's eyes were locked on Ruby's faraway figure. There was something more ominous still about the line she had blasted into the brush. “It's pointing right at us,” he breathed.

“They're attacking,” Marielle agreed slowly, her tone raising in a question.

“But how do they know where we are? The camp is masked by a camouflage sphere.” He desperately willed it to be a coincidence. There were elderly and children in the gryphons' tent village…But the ships above—a round dozen of them, large and small—were turning in the direction Ruby had pointed.

Vidarian ran across the deck, shouting behind him, “Get airborne! Get all of your ships away from the camp! Send them in different directions!”

If the imperial forces were advancing on the camp now, it could only mean one thing: whatever had given them their heading was aboard one of the Sea Kingdom ships.

Even as he charged down the gangplank, Marielle was already shouting orders, and a pair of sailors hauled the plank up almost before Vidarian's feet touched the earth. He started toward Kormir's village, but skidded to a stop as he caught sight of a rider loping fast toward the Luminous.

Ariadel rode out on a black horse, sitting her saddle with the ease of a born equestrian. The animal she rode was half warhorse, with lean, athletic lines paired with massive feet and a thick, indomitable neck. “They've attacked before we could!” she cried. “They know that the longer they wait, the more they stand to lose!”

“It's worse than that,” Vidarian said, hating to admit it, but needing to. “I think they're drawn to something on one of the ships—one of the ones we captured, most likely. We've drawn them to you.”

She turned, spinning the horse with one rein and a heel, looking up at the ship. “They've got to get into the air—away from the camp!”

“They're already moving,” Vidarian said, and so they were—sailors were calling out readiness checks, and even as they stood there the Luminous began to lift off the ground. “I need to get to Rai.”

Ariadel turned back to him, then reached down, offering her hand. “Come on.”

He blinked, frozen for a moment, then took her hand. She slipped her foot free of the stirrup and he stepped into it, levering himself up and over the horse's back behind her. It was awkward, and he had to take hold of her waist quickly as she spurred the horse into a gallop.

Vidarian clung to the saddle and the tents flew by. Overhead, another low boom echoed across the desert, this time as the imperial skyships fired sighting shots from their cannon. They weren't yet within range of the camp, but would not be kept off for long.

Once he was sure he wasn't going to tumble off the back of the fast-moving horse, “Did you really think I would have supported the empire against you?” Vidarian said over Ariadel's shoulder.

She drew up before Kormir's tent, and Vidarian slid from the saddle, levering himself to the ground. A hand on his shoulder steadied him, and then she leaned down, kissing him. Then, without answering, she turned her horse back to the command field and was galloping off again.

Kormir and Rai were where he'd left them, and now Rai was draped with harness. A modified bareback saddle sat between his shoulders, thick with padding and sewn with additional thick leather straps.

“Thank the goddesses that you are so quick,” Vidarian said, walking up to the dragon and tracing the leather straps with his hands.

“It's not done,” Kormir said, his eyebrows up with alarm. “I still have—”

Vidarian turned, pointing at the sky, which was now blooming with light around the advancing skyships as they continued their weapons checks. “We need to be up there in moments. I'll ride him with nothing at all if I have to.”

Kormir followed his gesture, then cursed, turning back to his racks to thread three needles at once with thick sinew. He attacked the harness, reinforcing stitching, connecting straps, hauling on them to test their strength, all the while muttering that if a strap gave way while they were fighting it would be worse than nothing at all.

Rai's head turned toward them. I won't let him fall, he said, and Kormir's eyes widened. Vidarian was grateful that Rai's mind seemed to be settling down enough for speech again.

At last Kormir stood back, a thick needle held between his teeth and the other two stuck through a pad on his arm-wrap, surveying his work with a furrowed brow. “That's the best I can do.”

“It's excellent work,” Vidarian said, extending his hand. And it was. Kormir looked at him in puzzlement, then awkwardly clasped his forearm. “I must admit, I have so many questions about your childhood…”

Kormir caught his meaning at once. “Brannon is a good lad. He'll be just fine. When one is meant for this life, there can be no other.”

“I believe it,” Vidarian said. “Thank you for this,” he said, gesturing to the harness. “I will repay you.”

“We have no notion of your ‘payment’ here,” Kormir replied. “You are chosen of my akrinha. We are brothers.”

Vidarian stood straighter, surprised at his words, and surprised again at how touching he found them. “I will defend your work, and the camp, with my life.”

“Of course,” Kormir agreed. “Charnak; vikktu ari lashuul.”

The gryphon battle-words stirred fire in his heart, and Vidarian tightened his hand on Kormir's, then released it. “Vikktu,” he agreed, then turned back to Rai, breathing deeply as he took in the height of his scaled shoulder, which stretched high over his head.

Rai's head came around again on his sinuous neck, and he nosed at Vidarian's right foot. When Vidarian lifted it, he pushed upward, all but tossing him into the air. Scrambling, Vidarian vaulted his right leg over the dragon's shoulder, feeling for the stirrup with his left.

Then he was seated, and hooking straps around his thighs. Rai stood from his crouch, lifting him farther into the air, and he wobbled, leaning left and right to keep himself balanced. There was nothing to compare it to; unlike a horse, Rai's movements tilted him up and down as well as left and right, and his back was tilted when he stood, sloping from his high shoulders down to his lower hind legs. Kormir had built the saddle to account for this, reinforcing its back, while the straps kept his legs forward and clear of Rai's broad, flexible wings, as well as the long, deadly spines that lined his neck and tail.

Rai stretched, getting the feel of the harness, and Vidarian's weight with it. He paced in a circle, first in one direction and then the other, before abruptly leaning up on his hind legs and swiping at the air with his foreclaws. Vidarian's stomach dropped and he was sure he'd be hitting the ground—but the saddle held him, the straps sliding but catching at just the right moment.

Then Rai leapt into the air, powerful hind legs pushing them high enough that the broad downsweep of his wings cleared the ground.

The brush grew smaller beneath them as Rai continued to flap, and Kormir, raising his arms to whoop with delight as he saw them rise, dwindled with it. The rest of the encampment came into view, tent roofs and paths, gryphons and humans hurrying between them. Many carried armor, and most rushed toward the warriors' lairs.

Rai tilted his wings, swinging them toward the command clearing. Above it, the skyships had taken to the air and continued to rise, each striking off and away from the camp. Vidarian turned in the saddle, looking for the approaching forces. Their ships still hung in the air, but as he watched, Ruby—in the impossible golden body Oneira had given her?—turned, easily visible at this distance, and struck out with another line of water energy.

Toward the Luminous.

Of all of the ships, Vidarian had been sure that the Luminous could not be the culprit, being even less likely than the Viere d'Inar. Malloray and the relay sphere aboard the ship should have been more than capable of dampening or at least confusing its location. And it was least likely to have had any kind of signal device hidden aboard.

“Iridan,” he realized, and Rai's ears flicked back toward him curiously. “He's an automaton—and Justinian spent all of that time with him.” He cursed roundly, then pointed. “Can you get us over to them?”

In answer, Rai flared his wings, lifting their leading edges and catching the wind. They shot toward the Luminous, and Vidarian worked hard not to look down at the terrain that raced by beneath them. After several moments of tension, it was not so difficult; Rai's presence, the warmth of his body, the strength of his long wings, were more reassuring than a gryphon basket, and even a skyship.

Once he had let go of his fear, he was struck by the spectacular view. The desert had deepened into the shadows of evening before them, the red stone steppes darkening to dark cerulean and amethyst while the sand glowed silver in counterpoint to the searing corals and crimson of the sky. Here above the world there was a kind of peace, a quiet—until it was rocked by the boom of cannonfire from the approaching ship line.

They drew upon the Luminous, and spaced around it were Sky Knights, who, of all the Aloreans, had been hit hardest by the emperor's death. It tightened Vidarian's chest to see them here, still protecting the Luminous, drawn and grim but determined.

One of them, a woman Vidarian didn't recognize, pointed her lance at the skyline.

Arrayed around the enemy ships were lines and formations she would have found familiar: Sky Knights, those who had knowingly joined the Company's cause, or did not yet know whom they opposed. Vidarian thought of the brutish monster that would have killed the young royal rather than seeing her imprint to a servant, and guessed that most fell into the former. Rai, picking up on his thoughts, lashed his tail at the air, his neck-spines sparking.

Caladan was drawing his reluctant steed closer, and Vidarian called to him. “Sir Orrin-Smyth, can you dispatch your misguided brethren?”

“I should think so,” Caladan said, loosening his sword in its scabbard. “I trained more than half of them.” He drew the sword, then struck its pommel soundly against the shield strapped to his mount. “Ironharts, to me!”

The knights gave a cheer, steel beneath their spirit, and formed up behind Caladan, who advanced toward the lines, his flight steady and swift.

Just below, Malloray and Yerune had come to the bow, looking to him for orders. That they did so naturally both warmed and stung Vidarian's heart; he had led them time and again into danger, yet still they followed.

“I must fly to Ruby,” he said, pointing down to the horizon. “There may yet be a hope she will negotiate.”

“Ruby?” Malloray shouted, incredulous. Then, for lack of a better description—“Your Ruby?”

“The Company promised her a body,” Vidarian replied.

“We will go with you,” Yerune said. “If you must confront them, we will witness it.”

“The Luminous is our small fleet's only relay ship,” Vidarian argued. “It can't be risked on the front line.”

“Then we will hang back, but be your point of retreat nonetheless, should it be needed.”

Vidarian didn't like it, but knew they would have need of the relay ship's instant communication with the ground and sky forces. “Tell the other ships to rally around you,” he said. “Now that we know the source of their bearing, there's no need to separate them.”

Malloray and Yerune exchanged a glance, startled.

“They draw on Iridan,” Vidarian said. “I'm sure of it.”

He half expected them to advocate abandoning the automaton, but both of their faces hardened. “All the more reason for us to come with you,” Yerune said. “Let us draw the battle to them.”

Vidarian touched his forehead in a salute, filled with pride for counting them as friends. “It is an honor to fight alongside you again.”

“Enough of that,” Malloray said, waving an arm. “Let's show these arrogant bastards how a true imperial ship acquits herself.”

He smiled in spite of himself. “As you will.”

Rai turned toward the line of ships in the sky, banking in a long arc that first swept them over Gryphonslair. Below, wings of gryphons were taking to the air, light from the setting sun glittering off of their armor. It was not anything Vidarian ever thought to see in his lifetime. The armor was not the heavy barding of the Sky Knights, but lighter, made of a bright metal he didn't recognize, and limited to key weak points: the base of the skull, the throat, the keelbone, wrists and ankles. Thus the small pieces arrayed over the hundred creatures taking to the air formed a glittering battalion, itself divided into small groups of five to ten individuals.

After the gryphons, the smaller bands of seridi were taking flight also, moving in groups behind or even onto the four skyships to perch and rest for precision strikes.

Rai leveled out, gliding fast toward the approaching forces. Streaks of cloud obscured the sun, staining it pink, and dimming the horizon enough that another cloud could be seen: land forces, spread out behind Ruby, three regiments of three hundred fighters each, mixed cavalry and foot soldiers. The Company was not emptying its war chest, but it must be a near thing.

From the air, he could also now see the prison camp that had so occupied Ariadel's thoughts, and the sight of it sickened him. Gryphonslair looked luxurious and rigidly organized by comparison; dark-haired prisoners in drab clothing huddled around black-smoked fires, moving slow. Few even raised their heads to the sounds of cannonfire in the sky, though a handful, children he thought, gathered at the western fence line to watch.

They were drawing fast upon the enemy lines, and just as he was about to direct Rai downward to meet Ruby, a searing blast of fire energy split the air to their right, only narrowly missing them. Rai bellowed a challenge, tipping left and instinctively falling into an evasive dive; when he straightened, he was snarling, flickers of demi-lightning arcing between the spines of his neck.

The strike had come from the front ship, a titan flagship, imperial Alorean and one of the most formidable war machines ever designed.

A cry of surprise from behind them drew Vidarian's attention back to the following Luminous, where Iridan stood at the bow.

The automaton had no facial features with which to manage it, but the slack way that he stared across at the other ship was disbelieving, haunted. He was staring at the flagship and the two figures that stood at its bow—Justinian, porcelain-masked; the other an automaton, graphite-armored, taller than Iridan, crowned with a circlet of knifelike curls of steel and striped feathers.