Page 16 of The Last


  “We flee Araktik,” Khara said.

  “Indeed? Why?”

  Khara thought for a moment. “Well, to begin with, Araktik the Seer was very nearly harmed while performing the eumony.”

  “Oh? Harmed? By whom? By you, female-human-pretending-to-be-male?”

  Khara didn’t answer immediately, and I wondered if she thought she might endanger me if she told the full story. “I can explain,” I said.

  I recounted the whole tale. When I got to the part about swooping down in a barely controlled glide right at Araktik, Rorid started laughing again. He called out the names of other birds, and they joined him on lower perches. “Tell it again, dairne,” he commanded.

  I started over. There are few more disturbing sounds than a dozen laughing raptidons, all glaring at you like they’re considering where exactly to sink their talons.

  Rorid stopped laughing, and instantly so did all his fellows.

  “That was not perhaps information,” he said, “but it was a wonderfully humorous story. Many do not know that we raptidons have an excellent sense of humor.”

  I was not about to argue.

  “Then, may I ask . . . ,” Khara began.

  Rorid turned his gaze on a young golden eagle, who nodded obediently. “Twenty-four in number,” he reported. “All on strong horses. Six horses for spares, twelve mules to carry supplies. Six dogs. All the humans wear the livery of the Seer. All boast the blue eye sigil on their shields. And all are armed with sword and crossbow.” He paused. “At their head is a Knight of the Fire.”

  Khara gasped. I had to restrain myself from asking why.

  “I thank you,” Khara mumbled, then added, “My lord.”

  “I see from the sword you relinquished that you are well armed yourself, young hunter.” He paused, taking in our wary reaction. “I was old when every living human was young, and what are legends to you are memories to me. Do not imagine that the spells and charms around your sword hide its true nature from me. Rorid Headcrusher is not easily tricked.”

  For long minutes Rorid stayed silent, and his fellows waited in respectful stillness. More than once Khara glanced nervously over her shoulder, clearly anxious to move on.

  At last he announced his decision. “The affairs of humans are not usually our concern. But we see much and know much. We have seen the slow decline of many species. Some were our prey. Some were, like us, governing species.”

  He nodded at me. “One thing is certain: the world grows emptier with each day. The causes are many—disease, famine, outright slaughter. But behind each cause there is a single perpetrator: the human who styles himself Murdano and his murderous young Seer. These humans do not understand the balance in life. They do not understand that their will to dominate and control, to use and abuse, is destructive to all.” He paused. “It will end in a eumony for the human species.”

  Tobble and I glanced at Khara. She stood still, perhaps as uncertain as I was, though she revealed nothing.

  “We raptidons know our friends, and we know our enemies,” Rorid continued. “He who fights the enemies of the raptidons is a friend to the raptidons. The Seer has sent her foul beasts after us more than once, all the while professing innocence. We see what has been done to the dairnes. We see what they are doing to the felivets. We are not fools. If two dozen of Araktik’s guards and a full-fledged Knight of the Fire are after you, it seems I must consider you our friends.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Khara said humbly.

  “Go,” Rorid said. “Go and be quick.”

  We did. And we were.

  39.

  The Knight of the Fire

  Frantically, we grabbed our weapons and fled.

  Gambler was the fastest among us, but he tired easily. Luca ran doggedly, but life in a library had not prepared him to run long distances. I was not as fast as Gambler, but dairnes have stamina. Tobble, the slowest of our party, rode atop Vallino.

  But it was Khara who led. She seemed tireless. Relentless.

  Overhead a raptidon wheeled lazily, perhaps merely curious, perhaps sent by Rorid to report back on what he must have assumed would be our slaughter.

  I ran beside Luca. Panting, my heart beating steadily, I asked, “What is so fearsome about a Knight of the Fire?”

  He was red in the face, sweat bleeding through his tunic. “They are the greatest . . . of warriors . . . sword, spear, doesn’t matter . . . but it’s the fire . . .”

  He waved me off, unable to talk and run.

  “Take a break,” Khara called, and we fell in heaps on the long grass. Khara swung up onto Vallino’s back to get a better view. I watched her face as she concentrated.

  “They’re definitely after us,” she reported. “And they’re gaining.”

  “Can we hide?” Tobble asked. He reached forward to stroke Vallino’s damp neck.

  Khara waved her hand around, encompassing the great, open emptiness. “Not likely.”

  “We can surrender and beg for mercy,” Luca said, still gasping for breath.

  “Mercy? From a Knight of the Fire?” Gambler shook his head. “They’re not mere soldiers, Luca. A soldier may show mercy—not often, but sometimes. A Knight of the Fire?” He laughed.

  “Let’s go,” Khara urged, and after less than three minutes of rest, we were running again, stumbling now and then as our limbs grew heavy.

  Ahead I heard the low grumble of thunder, although the sky was clear. With a start, I realized Khara’s desperate plan.

  She was taking us toward the Viagatto. Toward the endless herd of garilans and other animals heading north.

  Glancing back, even I could see that the Seer’s men were gaining on us, and gaining fast. I could make out individual faces beneath helmet bills. I could faintly see the blue eye sigil on their shields. And I could see him. The knight.

  He rode a massive black horse, its head protected by silver armor. The knight himself wore full plate armor that glimmered in the sun. With his visor down, I saw no face, just a moving mountain of steel.

  “Why ‘Knight of the Fire’?” I asked. Even though I knew I shouldn’t waste precious breath on a question, I needed to know what we were up against. “Why”—I stumbled on my own feet, but caught myself in time—“why are they called that?”

  It was Gambler who replied in a low, worried voice. “Pray to your gods, dairne, that you do not find out the answer.”

  We topped a low rise and I almost stopped dead.

  Nothing could have prepared me for the magnificent spectacle unfolding before us.

  A great mass of animals moved like a slow, relentless river stretching to the horizon. Tens of thousands, I guessed. Maybe even hundreds of thousands of the animals, grazing and moving, grazing and moving.

  Most were garilans, oddly beautiful in such numbers. Six-legged but graceful, they had deep crimson bodies and thick golden tails. Their necks, also golden, were ridiculously long and arched, their horns creamy spirals as long as their tails.

  Beyond them, I saw tirralopes and blue-striped xia deer, along with a handful of other species I’d never encountered before. They moved as one, undulating like a swarm of midges, and although their pace was leisurely, the noise of hooves on earth was deafening.

  As awestruck as I was by this moving mass of life, I realized at once that they were too far away to be of any help. Behind us the knight had spurred his warhorse, pulling away from his soldiers.

  “We won’t make it,” I said, my voice trembling like the ground beneath me.

  Khara gave a curt nod. “I’ll slow him down,” she said, nodding toward the knight. She helped Tobble off Vallino and was about to mount the horse when Gambler spoke.

  “He’ll kill you,” he said. “This is not a job for a hunter on horseback. It’s a job for stealth and surprise.”

  Khara hesitated, her hand on Vallino’s mane. She knew Gambler was right, but she seemed to feel it was her duty to take on the terrifying steel-clad warrior.

  “Keep running,?
?? Gambler said.

  Khara took in the scene, considered, nodded. “You heard him. Move!”

  We set off at a run as Gambler crept, almost on his belly, into the tall grass. He was lost to sight within seconds, but still I kept glancing back until the towering knight reached the spot where we’d left the great cat.

  I stopped. I watched as Gambler exploded from the grass. He flew through the air, paws outstretched, and slammed full force into the knight.

  The knight toppled from his horse but was up in a heartbeat, reaching for his sword.

  Gambler leapt on the knight before he could draw and knocked him on his back with a metallic clang. After that, there was little Gambler could do: it was tooth and claw against steel.

  Gambler bounded away, racing to catch up with us. As the felivet moved toward us, I saw something I would never have imagined was possible.

  The knight stood. He reached for his spear and leveled it.

  “Gambler!” Tobble screamed, although his voice was swallowed up in the noise of the herd.

  We watched in horror, waiting to see the spear cut through the air.

  But what we saw instead was even more terrifying.

  From the end of the spear came a jet of flame. A miasma of fire.

  A torrent of death.

  40.

  Stampede

  The flame, which seemed almost liquid, quickly caught the grass. Fire and smoke billowed, obscuring the knight.

  The blaze moved with unnatural speed, not driven by the breeze, not burning randomly, but moving as if with a will, faster and faster, faster even than Gambler.

  Gambler saw the pursuing fire and dodged a sharp left.

  The fire followed him.

  He cut sharply back, and still the fire tracked him.

  Pursued him. As if it were alive, sentient, planning.

  “Theurgy,” I whispered. “Sorcery.”

  “The living fire!” Luca cried in horror, practically weeping with fear.

  Gambler ran, but no longer toward us. He bolted straight toward the garilan herd, as the fire raced to cut him off.

  Suddenly he stopped short. A line of flame had rushed ahead of him. Two lines of fire now converged.

  Gambler was surrounded.

  I could just make out his figure through the smoke, head darting this way and that, searching for escape that did not exist.

  To my shock, I didn’t plan my next move. No “on the one hand, on the other foot.”

  I simply acted.

  I jumped atop Vallino, stood up facing the knight, and yelled, “Here I am! Over here!”

  The steel visor rotated toward me. The knight was less than two hundred yards away. The thundering herd was twice that distance ahead. Gambler was wreathed in smoke and flame, perhaps three hundred yards north—close, but not close enough, to the garilans.

  “Go, Vallino!” Khara yelled, and the horse leapt, knocking me flat on his broad back. I dug my fingers into his mane and held on for dear life.

  Vallino’s speed changed the possibilities. I might—might—just make it to the herd with his help.

  But even as Vallino galloped at full speed, the knight pointed his spear toward me. Instantly the living flame sped in two distinct lines to cut me off.

  There was no stopping.

  It was a race between Vallino and the fire, with my life as the prize.

  Vallino flew, his mouth foaming, his powerful muscles propelling him at speeds not even Gambler could match.

  Vallino. The fire. Vallino. The fire.

  Suddenly the flames were before us, a searing, smoking blockade, and I felt Vallino’s muscles tense beneath me.

  He was going to veer. To recoil.

  But no: he leapt!

  We soared through a veil of smoke, above a fire that had barely caught hold, and landed hard on the other side.

  The garilan herd—the refuge we sought—had smelled the fire. Even as we approached, they were veering away, panicked and stampeding. Vallino could only keep pace as we tore away to the west, the whole mighty flow of beasts turning with us, a diverted river.

  The knight stayed focused on me, galloping through an opening in the flame, turning to match course with the terrified herd.

  I stayed low, hugging Vallino’s sweating back, gripping handfuls of mane, hoping to stay atop the horse, my only chance.

  I caught fragmented glances behind me. The soldiers were taking aim at Khara, Luca, and Tobble. The fire was still after me, racing along the ground behind the hooves of the knight’s war charger.

  I’d never tried to speak to Vallino—I’d always assumed that even the cleverest of horses understands just a few words—but I found myself saying, “Vallino, I’m going to slide off. Keep running!”

  We’d reached the outer edge of the herd as the garilans ran stolidly on. I judged my moment as well as I could and half leapt, half fell from Vallino’s back. Frantically I grabbed at the back of the nearest garilan. There was nothing like a mane to hold on to, so I clutched handfuls of its bloodred fur.

  The animal felt me—how could it not?—and reared up, almost throwing me off. After a moment, it seemed to decide that fire was the greater threat, and it continued its mad gallop with the rest of the herd.

  I wondered if the knight had seen my move. Hugging the garilan close, I kept low, hoping that thick smoke and sheer speed would hide me.

  I needed more control. Foolish as it was, I dared to reach forward, clinging to the garilan’s neck, and grabbed the end of its long left ear. I pulled it to the left, hoping it might serve as a primitive rein.

  To my utter amazement, the beast veered left, jostling through its brothers and sisters.

  When I checked again I saw the knight sweep by, never looking my way. He was still intently pursuing Vallino, along with the sentient fire.

  I couldn’t see Khara or Luca or poor little Tobble. But I understood that I couldn’t help them.

  I was the target. Where I went, the knight and his soldiers would follow.

  Far off now, Vallino slowed, worn out. He turned sideways, his profile revealing that he no longer had a rider.

  The knight reined instantly. His fight was not with a horse.

  He stood in his stirrups, scanning the horizon. Looking for me. I had drawn him off Gambler, but I knew I could do nothing to stop the soldiers who would soon surround and kill Khara, Tobble, and Luca.

  I wanted desperately to help them, but I could do nothing, nothing but wave at the knight from my position deep within the herd. He lowered his spear. To my shock, the fire seemed to be sucked back into the tip, like a robin eating a worm.

  The knight’s fire wouldn’t help him now. If he used it, the herd would flee with renewed energy. And he must have known that his warhorse would never move quickly between the garilans.

  I closed my eyes, trying not to imagine the slaughter of my friends.

  My friends, who would die because of me.

  Once again, others would perish, and I would escape.

  My parents and siblings.

  My pack.

  And now my new family.

  That’s what they were, I realized with a sharp pang. Khara, Tobble, and Gambler had become my new family.

  And now they were lost to me forever.

  41.

  Xial Renarriss

  I don’t know how long I rode on the garilan’s back. I don’t know how far we traveled. I was lost in living nightmares, besieged by guilt.

  Alone.

  Alone as day ended and the herd, now calm and back on track, moved ever farther north.

  I cried. I cried for my mother and father, my siblings, my pack. I cried for brave Khara and loyal Tobble. I cried for Gambler, my improbable felivet friend.

  I did not cry for Luca, but I regretted his death. I had never warmed to him—he was enigmatic and distant. But he, too, had been lost because of me.

  Sometime that evening I slipped from the garilan’s back and landed in the eternal grass. Sleep turned
my sadness and regret to dark dreams of faces torn apart by steel.

  I dreamed about my drawing, my silly, childish map with its sentient island and its imaginary colony of dairnes.

  I dreamed of Dalyntor, reciting that ancient poem:

  Sing, poet, of the Ancients who dared forth—

  Brave dairnes, o’er mountains treacherous and cruel,

  Who crossed the frigid waters of the north

  To Dairneholme, living isle and floating jewel.

  I dreamed that a great bird swept low over me as I slept, circling once before flying off.

  When the sun woke me, I was on my back, lying on a stony ridge that divided the garilan into two streams.

  I was certain that I hadn’t landed on rock. I had landed on soft grass.

  Had I dreamed that, too?

  It hit me then, a rush of sensation, of smells familiar and welcome, of human and . . . and felivet?

  I jerked up to find Tobble holding a waterskin to my lips. “Tobble?” I yelped in joy.

  Tobble grinned. “Drink first. Answers later.”

  I drank greedily.

  Breathed deeply.

  Embraced Tobble.

  And that was when I saw Khara, Luca, Gambler, and Vallino all gathered on the island of rock in a sea of garilans.

  “How . . . what . . . how . . . ?”

  I may have repeated that several times. I may also have wiped away more than a few tears.

  My friends. My new family.

  They had escaped. But not unscathed.

  Patches of Gambler’s fur were scorched, leaving dark skin glistening with dried blood. Khara wore a thick bandage on her left arm and another above her knee. Tobble’s right ear was torn and bloodied.

  “How?” I demanded. “Not that I am anything less than ecstatic to find you alive.”

  “Crows!” Tobble said. “The soldiers caught up to us, and Khara . . . well, I wish you could have seen it!”

  “Crows?” I repeated.

  “Just as I was sure Khara was done for,” Tobble continued, the words pouring out of him, “fighting three soldiers at once, down came the crows.”

  “Crows. As in black birds?” I asked.