Starfinder: A Novel of the Skylords (28 page)

“I see what you can do, Artaios,” said Moth. “You think you’re gods, but you’re not. You’re just bullies.”

Artaios sheathed his flaming sword and stepped over Alisaundra. “Did I not tell you to hold your tongue? To respect my father and this place? Truly, you must wish to die.”

“You’re wrong,” said Moth. “And you’re wrong if you think Merceron is going to give you back the Starfinder. He doesn’t care about me.”

Artaios’ smile was terrible. He kicked at Alisaundra. “Get up,” he growled.

The Redeemer rose, averting her eyes.

“Speak the words,” Artaios commanded.

Alisaundra hesitated. “Dragons live a very long time,” she said. “They never forget their friends or leave them behind.”

“What?” gasped Moth. It was as if the words had been ripped from his brain. But the words weren’t his—they were Merceron’s.

“Your friend Fiona is alive,” said Artaios. “She made it to Pandera.”

“How do you know that?” asked Moth desperately. “How’d you know what Merceron said?”

Artaios sighed as he gestured at Alisaundra. “These things are grotesque but gifted. Alisaundra has been close enough to you to know all your thoughts, Egg. There’s nothing you can hide from her.”

“Fiona . . . ?”

“Sent with you to the centaurs by Merceron. Don’t worry. She lives. For now.”

Moth could barely breathe. “Fiona doesn’t have the Starfinder. All she wants is to get away from her grandfather. If you’re in my head then you know that’s true!”

Spoken like a curse, the word came from Korace. The ancient ruler gripped the arms of his throne with withered fingers. His dead eyes fixed hatefully on Moth.

“Rendor seeks the Starfinder,” said Artaios, “but it’s of no use to him. He’s not a child, nor is his granddaughter. You are the only human in all the Realm that can work the Starfinder. And we’ll never allow the Starfinder to cross the Reach again.”

“You mean you’re going to kill them?”

“There’s no escape for them, Egg. They’re already surrounded.”

“But Fiona’s innocent! And Rendor can’t even use the Starfinder! You said so yourself!”

“If he escapes he’ll find another child, one young enough to work the Starfinder. One like you.”

“Artaios, no . . .”

“You may go wherever you wish in the palace,” said Artaios dismissively, “but Alisaundra will be watching you. If you try to run, she will find you.”

He turned his back on Moth, returning to his father’s side and taking the ruler’s frail hand. A veil of sorrow darkened his face. Korace closed his eyes and whispered to his son. Though Moth couldn’t understand his words, it was obvious Korace wanted to go.

“Come,” said Alisaundra, taking Moth’s arm and leading him away.

“Wait,” Moth protested. “Artaios, don’t you dare harm Fiona, you hear me?”

“Stop!”
Alisaundra hissed into his ear.

“Do you hear me, Artaios? If you hurt her, I’ll—”

Alisaundra covered his mouth with her powerful hand. Quickly, she dragged him away.

SKYHIGH SCANNED THE HORIZON
as the warm sun of dawn struck the side of his face. He had taken flight less than twenty minutes ago, but already he was many miles away from the safety of the
Avatar
, streaking southward over hills and forests. He watched with awe as sunlight peeled back the darkness, marveling at the world it uncovered. Since the grounding of the
Avatar
, Skyhigh had made this same patrol a dozen times. So far, he’d seen a handful of Redeemers and some distant, flashing clouds that looked oddly like horses, but he hadn’t seen a single Skylord yet. They would come soon enough, he supposed, because Rendor was sure of it. But for now, for this one brief morning, they were safe.

Wind buffeted the dragonfly’s glass wings. Skyhigh fought the craft for control. She hadn’t flown the same since her fight with Alisaundra. Though Bottling and his crew had patched her up, she handled more like a donkey cart now than a precision machine. Still, her guns were working and she was airborne, and for that Skyhigh was grateful. In a day or two more the
Avatar
would be airworthy too, and they could finally get moving again. Skyhigh hoped Rendor would keep his promise and not leave the Reach, but there were men like Donnar onboard who wanted to head home—without Moth and Fiona.

Skyhigh leveled the craft and stretched his vision as far as he could. Twenty minutes south, in daylight hours only. Those were his orders, and as he watched the chronometer on his console tick down the seconds, he prayed he’d see nothing more than a bird up ahead. Once the Skylords came they’d be trapped. And once they were trapped, no one would be in the mood to search for the children. Skyhigh still didn’t know if Rendor wanted Fiona back or just the Starfinder, but it didn’t really matter. If they fled home to Calio, the kids would be doomed.

“Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . .”

Finally the chronometer clicked down to zero. Relieved, Skyhigh banked the dragonfly westward, toward the rising sun.

“Sorry, Skylords,” he sang. “Not today!”

He could report a clear sky, at least for one more patrol. Skyhigh settled back, letting out the breath he’d been holding. He narrowed his eyes against the sunlight, estimated a flight time, and dialed up a new time on the chronometer. In less than an hour he’d be back at camp. He’d breakfast quick, catch a nap while the crew checked and fueled the dragonfly, then head back out for his late morning loop. If things stayed quiet . . .

A sudden mass eclipsed the sun, heading straight for the dragonfly.

“Holy . . . !”

Skyhigh jerked back the sticks, shooting the craft upward and back. The engine shrieked in the riptide of air. Up came the thing, racing toward him, the biggest, darkest Redeemer Skyhigh could imagine. He made to turn, but the creature was already on him, beating its gigantic wings as it hovered in midair. Skyhigh’s finger curled around the gun trigger. If he could just draw a bead . . .

The outline of the thing against the sun seemed wrong somehow. Finally, a great horned head shot fearlessly toward the tiny craft. Through the clouded glass blinked massive yellow eyes. A fanged mouth opened wide, revealing a reptilian tongue.

“Rendor!” roared the creature.

Skyhigh’s hand slipped from the trigger. It wasn’t a Redeemer’s voice that shook his craft, but a dragon’s. Its scaly face filled the canopy, frowning in annoyance at Skyhigh’s silence.

“Are you hard of hearing, human?” it bellowed. “Take me to Rendor!”

MERCERON REMOVED HIS PIPE from his coat, sighing as he stuck it between his teeth. He was out of tobacco, out of patience, and grateful just to be on the ground again. Lady Esme rested on his shoulders, slumping in the very same way, both of them exhausted from days of flying.

“I told you,” the dragon growled, “My name’s Merceron. Just tell that to Rendor—he’ll remember me.”

A dozen humans with rifles had swarmed out of the tethered airship the moment he and Esme landed. His arrival caused the expected commotion, but none of the men dared come any closer than twenty-odd yards. Nearby, the noisy contraption he’d faced in the sky landed hastily in the shadow of the airship. Its buzzing wings came to a stop, the glass top popped out, and out came the man he’d terrified in the air. Merceron raised a curious eyebrow at the machine.

“It
does
look like a dragonfly.”

The young man tossed his helmet to the ground as he rushed forward, his expression incredulous. Lady Esme gave a call when she noticed him.

“Esme?” he exclaimed.

Merceron took the pipe from his mouth. “You’d be Skyhigh Coralin. Right?”

“How’d you—?”

“We have a mutual friend.” Merceron waved his tail in annoyance at the others. “Tell your buddies to back away, would you? I’m tired and cranky, and if anyone shoots me, I might accidentally incinerate them.”

“You must be Merceron!”

“So I’ve been saying,” sighed the dragon. He looked over the airship, impressed by its size. “Is Rendor inside that thing?”

The young flier searched the camp. “He must be. Why are you looking for him?”

Suddenly another man appeared, stepping out from a curtain of rifles. “Coralin, move away from that thing!”

“Thing?” harrumphed Merceron.

The flier gave a surprising smile. “Commander Donnar, this is Merceron,” he said with a flourish. “The dragon who helped Moth and Fiona. That bird on his shoulder is Lady Esme.”

Hearing her name, Esme flew from Merceron’s shoulder toward the Skyknight. The man stretched out his arm, where she landed with a delighted screech.

“You
must
be a friend,” Merceron observed. “Lady Esme was always rather prickly.”

The older man—Donnar—stood before his soldiers. “What do you want, dragon? You’re not the only one here with firepower.”

Merceron tilted his horned head. So far, every human he’d ever met had been audacious. Then, another figure came rushing through the throng, buttoning up a long frock coat.

“My god!” exclaimed Rendor. “Fifty years and you look exactly the same.” He shouldered confidently past his men. “All of you, put your guns down,” he ordered.

The one called Donnar started. “Governor?”

“Forget it, Erich. This old beast is harmless.” Rendor walked right up to Merceron and crossed his arms. “Aren’t you?”

Merceron looked over the rim of his glasses. “You’ve gotten chubby.”

Rendor didn’t laugh. He turned toward the others, waving them away. “Hey, work to do, remember? I want to get airborne by nightfall.”

Slowly the crowd dispersed. Rendor told Donnar to stay, then turned to Skyhigh. His words fell away when he noticed Esme on the young man’s arm.

“Esme . . .”

His voice was whisper soft. He moved toward the kestrel, reaching out his hand, then pulling it back. “Merceron, does she know what happened to Leroux?”

Merceron shrugged his enormous shoulders. “She’s heard the talk, but it’s hard to know how much she understands. She’s more bird than Skylord now.”

Skyhigh studied Esme sadly. “She doesn’t know about Moth either.”

“Uh, Coralin . . .”

Merceron frowned. “What about Moth?” He looked between the humans. “Rendor, what’s happened?”

Rendor blanched. “I’m sorry, Merceron. I know why you’ve come, but we don’t have the boy any longer. Whoever told you that—”

“What?” Merceron’s voice boomed through the camp. “You had Moth? He was
here
?”

Rendor gestured toward the airship. “Before the attack. Our ship . . .”

“Rendor, I didn’t come here looking for Moth! What happened?”

“He’s gone, Merceron. Like I said, we were attacked. A Redeemer—”

Merceron’s head roared forward. “Tell me where he is!”

Rendor stood firm, even as the others backed away. “The boy is gone,” he said calmly. “My granddaughter, too. We tracked them with the help of a Redeemer named Alisaundra. When they saw us, they ran. Fiona fell into the river by the mountains. Captain Coralin picked up Moth.”

“Gone? No! Not dead!”

“We don’t know,” said Rendor. “Maybe Moth’s still alive. Fiona . . .” He paused. “Maybe not.”

“Merceron, I was the one that chased them,” said Skyhigh. “They ran when they saw my dragonfly. We tried to find Fiona, but . . .” His voice trailed off. “We just don’t know.”

“What about this Redeemer?” pressed Merceron. “She did that?” He pointed a claw at the obvious hole in the airship, now covered by mismatched fabric. “She’s the one that took Moth?”

“The night we found them,” said Rendor. “She didn’t take anything else. Just Moth.”

Merceron tried to think. “Then he’s still alive,” he mused. “The Skylords know he can use the Starfinder. They know everything by now.”

“How?” wondered Rendor.

“Because you let a Redeemer get close to him, you fool! They can pick a human brain like a lock. Everything he knows, she knows now. And that means the Skylords know it, too.”

“But he’s alive?” asked Skyhigh. “You’re sure?”

“The Skylords don’t care about Moth. All they want is the Starfinder.” Merceron glared at Rendor. “Sound familiar?”

Rendor brushed the insult aside. “Do you have it?”

“Fiona, Rendor,” Merceron reminded him. “Where did you look for her?”

“Along the river bank,” answered Skyhigh. “It was raining the night she disappeared. I flew out the next morning but didn’t find anything.”

“What about the mountains? Did you search over the mountains?”

“How could we, Merceron?” countered Rendor. “They’re too high. Look at our ship!”

Already Merceron was regretting the reunion. “Look past the mountains for her,” he said. “If Fiona’s alive, that’s where she’ll be.”

Rendor squinted at him. “How do you know that? Did you send them there?”

“Moth didn’t tell us where they were heading,” said Skyhigh. “Why were they following the river?”

“There’s a narrow gorge in the mountains, like a tunnel. The river flows under the mountains there. You may not be able to fly over the mountains, but you can swim there.”

“Where?” asked Rendor.

“Pandera.” Merceron stuck the pipe back in his mouth. “That’s where I sent the children.”

“To the centaurs?” Rendor exclaimed. “Why?”

“To keep them safe, both from you and from the Skylords.”

“Oh, brilliant,” scoffed Rendor. “Now Moth’s been kidnapped and Fiona is drowned. If you wanted to keep them safe you should have kept them with you!”

Merceron snapped back, “Don’t pretend to care so much about your granddaughter. You’re only here for one reason, Rendor.”

“You have the Starfinder,” accused Rendor. “I know Moth gave it to you. You’re lucky the Skylords haven’t found you yet!”