Lance of Earth and Sky

With the two captured seridi sleeping soundly and tucked tight with blankets at the rear of the craft, quarters were tight, but by no means unbearable. Isri took to the sky with Altair while Vidarian guided the craft upward. The glowing gems set into the hull provided not only activation indicators but a gentle blue light that illuminated their path up through the trees. Calphille, perched at the bow, watched them with appreciation, but not surprise.

“You've been aboard one of these before,” Vidarian said.

“It's been…” she started to calculate, then laughed. “…A very long time, of course.” Her eyes followed the edge of the trees as they ascended from the clearing, saying a final wordless good-bye, but to his relief, her spirits seemed to lighten the farther they passed from her family's grove. The wolf pup was not nearly so comfortable, and clung to the deck, radiating displeasure despite Vidarian's reassurances.

A prevailing night wind filled the sails as soon as they lifted above the tree line, and they made good time. Soon the fires of the encampment glittered along the coastline before them, and Vidarian directed the craft lightly down for a landing.

Thalnarra's pride had taken up temporary residence along a narrow cliff bordering a great and temperate sea. Here, south of the Dragonspine, the waters were gentle, practically tropical, and the ocean winds that swept up the cliffs were quite pleasing to the gryphons. Thalnarra groused about them growing gentle and fat on the giant, pink-fleshed fish that filled the bay, but she seemed obscurely pleased to have laired there nonetheless.

The Alorean messenger was immediately obvious as they landed, having made his own camp as far away from the gryphons as he could manage without leaving the safety of the pride. “With your pardon, I'd like to get this settled as fast as possible,” Vidarian apologized to Calphille, who waved him away. She seemed heartened to see so many gryphons at the cliff.

“Bloody creatures,” the messenger was muttering. Vidarian strode up to him, unsure whether he was cursing the gryphons or his own unruly mount. The winged horse, like those of the Sky Knights they'd battled to gain access to the gate, certainly had no love of gryphons, being essentially “prey”—but it also seemed less than enthusiastic about its rider. It pawed the ground nervously, ears flattened against its skull, eyes round and rolling when the messenger made any move toward it.

The messenger, an older man in imperial colors, nodded briskly to Vidarian as he approached. His high forehead, paler skin, and aquiline nose reminded Vidarian of his mother's family, landholding Alorean for ten generations back.

“They've gone all jittery these past months,” the man said, offering a slice of dried apple to the horse, who accepted it warily. Vidarian reevaluated his assumption about their relationship—the beast was spooked for sure, but seemed to trust the old man. “Can't blame 'em. Everything's gone jittery, you might say. Half the riders can't even get their beasts to carry them, or they wouldn't've pulled an old git like me out of retirement.”

Vidarian smiled in spite of himself, liking the old man even if he was bringing bad news. “My name is Vidarian Rulorat,” he said. “I believe you were looking for me?”

“Well,” the old man said, eyebrows lifting as he turned and extended his hand. “I am indeed. Alain Malkor, messenger for His Majesty. It's an honor to meet you, I'm to understand.”

Vidarian clasped the man's hand in both of his own briefly, but shook his head. “I don't know about that. But you've been a long way from the Imperial City to do it.” He didn't quite let an edge creep into his voice. “The last representatives of the emperor I met were—not quite so friendly.”

“That's the way of it, isn't it?” Alain said, his voice so light Vidarian was sure he had no idea that his own fellow Sky Knights had attacked Vidarian and the gryphons. “But strange times are about, and stranger rumors. Half the Court of Directors dropping dead, beasts changing their shapes.”

“What?” Vidarian asked, his heart gone cold. “The court—of the Alorean Import Company?”

“You haven't heard,” the old man said, voice rough with compassion, and maybe a touch of rebuke. “This far out, I suppose it makes sense. But yes, damndest thing. Those old men were held together by their healing magic, you ken? Without it they keeled right over. Happened to a lot of people, but the gossip's about the rich ones, you know.”

Vidarian felt as though his heart had turned to lead in his chest.

* Huh, * Ruby said. * Hadn't thought of that. Makes sense, though. Always knew something bad was going to come of using magic that way. * Her tone had the edge of Sea Kingdom superstition, but Vidarian was in no condition to correct her.

“Shows the imperial family's wisdom, never going in for that stuff,” Alain said. “A man living six hundred years—hardly right. Maybe that's why he wants to speak with you.”

“The emperor?” Vidarian barely managed to tame his voice down from a squeak.

“Yes indeed,” Alain smiled, reaching up to pet the velvety nose of his steed, which seemed to have calmed down a bit. “I come with an imperial summons, didn't they tell you?”

“They didn't,” he said numbly, thoughts racing.

* What are you going to do? * For once Ruby didn't have a quick remark.

“I'll—leave in the morning, of course.”

* My ship, and my body, * Ruby growled, * are in the other direction. *

Would you have me ignore the summons, and have us all cut down by Sky Knights halfway there? Perhaps you think you'd have better luck asking one of them after we're all dead. He hid the heat of his thoughts behind a false mask and gratitude for the messenger.

Alain smiled again and extended his hand, which Vidarian shook out of reflex. Then he mumbled an excuse, something about needing to pack. Ruby hadn't answered, and so as he retreated, Vidarian continued, guiltily, The emperor can't want much, or he'd've sent more than a broken-down old warhorse to fetch us. We'll send word to the Viere as soon as we reach the city. He turned to go find Thalnarra and Altair.

But just as he reached the edge of the campfires, someone else found him.

When he turned and saw her approaching, Vidarian froze. She was moving determinedly toward him, and still he found himself paralyzed. What were they, now?

“We should talk,” Ariadel said. Her face and body were still wan from illness, but there in the camp, speaking to him after so long a silence, it seemed she had never been more beautiful. Or more alive. He fought against his own reaction, but what welled up in place of that wordless gratitude was something less productive.

“I'm not going to apologize.” The words poured out before he could stop them. And once they were out, even with Ariadel's face flushing with anger, he couldn't take them back.

“What?” The question was pointed, absent any confusion, an invitation back from the brink. Part of him ached to seize it.

“I'm not going to apologize,” he ground out the words again, though the thunderous look she gave him warned him not to, “for opening the gate. For saving you.”

“That's not—” she began, then flushed again, too angry to speak. He nearly quailed; in spite of everything, he had never seen her this angry. “There's something else.”

He waited.

“I—” she looked up again, into his eyes, and for a moment they were themselves again, and whatever she was about to say was the most important thing he'd ever heard.

And then her face clouded over with the mysterious expression she'd had for the last two weeks, since the gate, and she was gone behind it. “I'm going with Thalnarra.”

He recognized a tack when he saw one, but knew that asking her wasn't going to get the answer now. And with that realization all the rest came crashing down on him again, the mess that he'd made of things.

// What's this? // Thalnarra's voice, all hearth-warmth and sweet spices, filled his mind. // You're going with me? But I'm going with him. //

“You are?” they said together, then exchanged another awkward look.

// If he's going into the lion's den, he can't go with only the guardianship of this air-addled lightweight, // she indicated Altair with a flick of her beak, who crouched near one of the campfires with a copious pile of huge fish. Altair didn't look up from his meal, but made what Vidarian assumed to be a rather rude gesture with the feathered tip of his tail. // Besides, // she added, her voice like a waft of cinnamon, // we look better in pairs. //

“That settles that, then,” Vidarian sighed, not unhappily. “If she's going with me…?”

“I'm staying here,” Ariadel said. “With the rest of the pride.”

“If I may—” Calphille said shyly, and Vidarian noticed her for the first time, framed against one of the fires. She was holding the wolf pup, to his surprise. “I'd like to come with you as well.”

Ariadel shot him a look that was half fury and half disbelief, then stalked off without a word.

He started to follow her, then stopped, three separate times before he gave it up. Calphille lowered the pup to the ground and it scrambled over to him, staying low and nervous. Vidarian held back a sigh. “We'll leave first thing in the morning.”