Another shattering tremor gripped the ground and shook itself out. In the quiet that followed, Llan's ears picked up a distant sound, a thin rumble that grew more piercing as it grew in volume.
'What fresh mischief...' she began, lacking the strength to finish the sentence. Looking at Ori, she saw raw despair in his face.
'I don't know, but we can't survive anything more.'
They waited, huddled together, while the rumbling buzz grew to a roar. Something zipped by overhead.
'What the...?' Ori gripped her hand so hard that it hurt, but she didn't have the heart to berate him.
Another shape flashed past, and a third. They were moving too fast; Llandry couldn't get a clear idea of what they were. But that buzzing roar sounded very much like engines...
Then the noise began in earnest. It was like the racket her father's machines had made, only more distant. Whatever those things were, she guessed they weren't going to land.
'More constructs,' she whispered, feeling sick. That's all it could be. Krays must have sent some new mechanicals to replace the ones they had destroyed.
'We're going up,' Ori said, spreading his wings. She flexed hers, too, ready to spring. Up they went, tracing the upward path of one lone glissenwol tree. When they reached the top, they landed on the broken remains of its cap.
Here they had an almost unimpeded view of the skies. Turning her face up to the heavens, Llan's dread quickly gave way to wonder.
The new machines looked like giant insects to her eyes. They had long, thin bodies and big wings, with spinning things on the front and at the back. Propellers, that's what her father called them. Each flying machine was piloted by a helmeted, human figure.
'They... I think they're on our side!' she yelled, bouncing in excitement.
'Hold up! Can't be sure of that. Those might be Krays's people.'
That possibility dampened her enthusiasm immediately. But the flying machines lined up and went for the draykoni in a group, and she realised that the sounds she'd heard were generated by the weapons they bore at the front of each vehicle. Guns! And they were pointed unequivocally at the enemy.
'Yes!' she shrieked, bouncing some more. 'Irbel's turned out at last!'
'Irbel?' The word emerged as a hoarse croak. 'How in the Lowers did they make those?'
'No idea, and I doubt they'll tell,' she grinned. 'But Pa knew, and he said they'd come!'
They watched in silence as the flyers - Llandry counted eighteen of them - sent four draykoni spiralling out of the skies in a matter of minutes. Three more followed, and the rest began an enraged retreat. She and Ori cheered as the flyers forced them further away from the city, claiming another two drayks.
But the rest weren't finished yet. Their leader, Eterna, shrieked her defiance and whirled about, leading the remainder in a full-on charge on the flyers. The tables were quickly turned: the draykoni, reckless, crashed headlong into the flying machines and three went down, bursting into flame as they hit the trees below.
'Oh no, Ori...!' Llan clutched him in her sudden trepidation that the drayks would win after all. The flyers' guns were impressive but the beasts were much bigger, much heavier, and they didn't seem to care anymore whether they survived. Two more flying machines went down...
The thirteen remaining flyers broke formation and dropped, speeding away from their pursuers. They had the advantage here, their smaller size and greater manoeuvrability allowing them to escape through the scattered glissenwol trunks. The drayks halted pursuit and climbed back into the skies, waiting.
Llandry waited too, tense and scarcely breathing. This would be it, the deciding confrontation. If the flyers could turn about and come at the remaining drayks fast enough, they might be able to reduce their numbers quickly enough to win the fight. If not...
'Time to pray, Llan,' Ori said.
Llandry prayed.
But as the flyers began their final attack, Llan tugged on Ori's sleeve. 'Ori! Let's help.'
Ori looked down at her, a grin spreading across his face. 'You're right! Why don't we?' He let out a whoop, then sprang into the air, already shifting into his draykon shape. Llandry watched him take off, her stomach fluttering with apprehension and excitement.
Perched atop their damaged glissenwol tree, they were already high up in the air. Llandry stepped to the edge, steeled herself, and fell forward into thin air. Wind rushed past her face and tugged at her clothing as she fell...
... then she had flashed into draykon shape and the wind rushed instead past polished scales the colour of the clouds. Shrieking defiance, she rose into the skies to take her place with Ori, behind the straggling line of flying machines.
Together, they flew at the remaining draykoni.
The guns started up as soon as the flyers were within range. The drayks had grown wise to the way the machines operated, and some of them managed to dive and weave away without being hit. But the pilots were ready for that, too. They manoeuvred their vehicles with amazing skill, keeping at those beasts who tried to evade or run. Two draykoni screamed and fell, then three. Four.
Attack, Llan! Ori yelled in her mind. They think we're the enemy!
He was right, of course; she should have foreseen that. One of the flyers was trying to angle around to get a shot at her. She dodged, flew over the top of the machine, and hurled herself at the nearest drayk. Her war-cry was full of all the pain and frustration and fear they had inflicted on her people since she and Pensould had woken up Isand.
Her opponent was larger than she, a fine beast with moss-blue scales. She circled around it, making sure that its bulk was between her and the flyers. She didn't want to be fired upon by her own side. When it whirled to face her, she went for the throat.
Now the brilliance of Iver's strategy was confirmed, for the drayk was fatally confused to find himself attacked by another draykon. Their non-appearance during the rest of the battle had convinced the enemy that the two draykons they knew about weren't going to fight - and they hadn't known about Ori at all. Ruthless, she took advantage of his confusion to sink her powerful teeth into his throat, then tore her jaws free, rending the flesh on the way. The draykon gave a gurgling cry and fell.
Llan! I'm going for Eterna.
Oh no... Eterna? The female draykon was the leader, and among the largest of them. Ori couldn't hope to prevail by himself.
I'm coming, she told him, casting about for a sight of his white-gold scales. There he was above her, his hide flashing brilliantly in the sun as he tore away in Eterna's direction. Llandry fought to catch up with him, wishing that for once she didn't have to be the smallest.
Ori didn't wait. He climbed high above Eterna while Llandry was still trying to reach him. Then he dropped, talons extended and jaws open, ready to claw and bite.
But Eterna turned as he dived, ready for his attack. Ori crashed headlong into her and the two of them went tumbling through the air, getting dangerously close to the flyers' guns.
Ori! she shrieked. You idiot, you're going to get killed!
But... it's working!
Llandry banked, turned, and soared after the mess of roaring draykon flesh that was Ori-and-Eterna. What's working? Are you trying to kill yourself?!
Getting her in range of the guns.
He had a point, she realised with a start. Eterna had done better than the rest at avoiding the flyers; she'd maintained a station high above, leaving her followers to take the damage. What that said about her principles didn't please Llandry, but she put that thought aside. Ori's instincts were good. If the leader fell, the rest might surrender. But could he pull it off?
Maybe if she helped him, he could.
Llandry adjusted her wings and soared higher again, circling around to come at Eterna from the opposite side to Ori, and from the rear. Once in position, she furled her wings and dropped.
She landed square on Eterna's back. Here her smaller size was an advantage: she could rest her full weight on the other draykoni, upsetting the perfect balance between weight and lift. Eterna roared and twisted, but Llandry sank her teeth and talons into the other drayk's hide and hung on, grimly relentless. With the extra weight to carry, Eterna couldn't maintain her height; and with Ori still hounding her she couldn't focus on fighting Llandry off. She began to drop, steadily and surely, towards the waiting flyers.
Just a bit more...
A few of the pilots had apparently guessed their plan, for they came at them at top speed. Only a few more seconds and the machines would be in range to shoot. Llandry hung on in spite of her weakening jaws and shredded feet, knowing that if Eterna got loose she would be dead.
And if it took much longer, someone else would notice and come to Eterna's aid...
The first flying machine opened fire, then two others right behind it. Ori jumped clear, but Llandry wouldn't release Eterna - not until she was sure of her victory. She gripped still harder as the flyers shot the draykon matriarch full of bullets, praying that none of them would hit her. Only when she judged the fight had gone out of her prey did she release her hold and spread her wings, letting the wind lift her up.
Eterna screamed and dropped away to the ground.
Llandry paused to look around. Only half a dozen draykoni were left, still battling desperately for survival against the machines. But when Eterna's death-cry reached them they seemed to notice, all at once, how few of their numbers were left.
It didn't take long after that. The pilots stopped firing and switched to rounding up the survivors, who made little resistance. They soon had the tired and bruised drayks together in a knot, unresisting as they were guided down to the ground.
Ori began cheering and turning loops in the sky, but Llandry couldn't enter into his enthusiasm. The shattered, burned and ruined state of Waeverleyne made that impossible. Staring with sad disbelief over the remains of her home city, she would have cried if she had been in her human shape.
The war might be over, but nobody had won.
***
'Ori's fine,' Llandry said into the voice-box soon afterwards. She and Ori had gone straight to Aysun after the victory of the flying machines, and her father had handed the box to her right away. Lady Eva was trying to reach her, he'd said. He had answered the call, but had had no satisfactory information to give her.
'Are you sure?' Eva persisted.
'Yes, I'm certain of it. I'm looking at him right now.'
'And the others?' Eva's tone was clipped and business-like, but Llandry could hear the strain behind it.
She hesitated. 'Avane was hurt. The Lokants took her back to the Library infirmary. And Pensould...'
'Llan? What about Pensould?'
'He died.' Llandry related the events that had led to Pense's demise, keeping her voice steady only by heroic effort. 'The drayks took him,' she finished.
'The drayks? Do they still have him?'
'I can't be sure,' Llandry admitted, her uneasiness growing. 'You don't think they might have handed him over to Krays?'
'It is possible,' Eva said gravely. 'But there's one important question to consider. Was he in human shape when he was... hurt?'
'No. He reverted to draykon form.'
Eva's sigh was one of relief. 'Then I think it highly unlikely that Pensould was used in any such way. Krays has other sources of that kind of draykon bone. It's the ones in human shape that he needs.'
'Okay,' Llandry said, doubtful and still uneasy. 'We're trying to get him back, but they're being obdurate. They don't take defeat well, that's for sure.'
'Consider something else. If Krays didn't use Ori or Pensould, then he must either have used some other source of ordinary draykon bone, or... or he got hold of another shifter.'
'But there aren't any more hereditaries.'
'Yes, but it isn't the hereditary status that's important here. Pensould shifts human, doesn't he?'
Llandry sucked in a breath, catching on all at once. 'I see what you mean!'
'If Krays betrayed his allies, you might be able to use that. Now I must go, Llan.'
'Did you find what you were looking for?'
'No,' Eva said shortly. 'We failed.'
'Oh... I'm sorry. What next for you, then?'
'I don't yet know.'
Eva sounded tired, and worse than that she sounded forlorn. That was not like her at all. 'Perhaps you could come to us,' she ventured.
'I can't. Tren has been hurt, and he needs me. That is... he might need me.'
Tren hurt as well? The last of Llandry's good feelings vanished. The cost of this conflict had been far too high... 'Will he be all right?'
'Yes,' Eva said firmly. Llandry so admired her ability to sound sure and confident, even when she must be worried sick. 'He'll be fine. We'll come to you when he's recovered.'
'Take care,' Llandry whispered, but Eva had already ended the connection. She restored the box to her pocket with a sigh. Rest sounded wonderful right now, but there were still far too many things to do.
The most important of her priorities was getting Pensould back, but the drayks had so far refused to reveal where they had taken his corpse. Her attack on Eterna had turned them all against her, with immoveable finality. She had hoped that Lady Eva might be able to talk them around, but she wouldn't argue with her desire to stay with Tren. She'd do the same, if only she could be near Pensould.
There was hope yet, however. Iver was working out a peace treaty that would involve the exchange of hostages - in this case the bodies of the fallen draykon invaders in exchange for Pensould's remains. Provided, of course, that reasonable terms could be reached. Nobody wanted to hand back the bodies only to see the regenerated drayks turn on Waeverleyne again.
Llandry pondered Eva's information, chewing a thumbnail as she did so. 'Ori,' she said after a while. 'We need to go count bodies.'
'We...do?'
'Urgently.'
Ori looked pale. 'Which bodies?'
'The draykoni.'
'Oh... that's not so bad, then.'
Did he think she had meant the bodies of Waeverleyne's fallen citizens? That would be a harrowing experience. Shaking off a shudder, she led the way to find Commander Iver.
'May I ask where the draykon remains are being kept, sir?'
Iver glared down at Llandry, looking harassed and none too pleased to see her. Small wonder, for it was now his task to oversee the final end to the conflict, and all the many details that entailed.
Ah well. She wouldn't need to distract him for long.
'I can't say I expected that request, Miss Sanfaer. What do you propose to do?'
'I need to examine them, sir.'
'Oh? Why?'
'I need to know how many there are.'
'Then you don't need to see them. I can tell you there are twenty-seven currently in our custody.'
'And six survivors?'
'Correct.'
'Excellent,' she smiled. 'May I please speak to the survivors, then, sir?'
Iver eyed her with suspicion. 'What's this about?'
Llandry told him. He tugged at his beard - this accessory clearly the product of many days without leisure to shave, rather than any personal choice - and considered her information.
'I'd better go with you,' he decided.
'As you wish, sir, but it must be now.'
'Oh it must, must it?' He surveyed her with raised brows.
'I don't think any delay is either necessary or wise, Commander.' She gave him her mother's stare, the one that always seemed to inspire people to do as requested.
Iver rolled his eyes. 'Right, but make it fast.'
'Absolutely.'
The surviving draykoni had surrendered, but not graciously. Iver had them gathered into a group with all of her father's intact gun-machines trained upon them. Resentment and fury poured off them in waves.
All the more reason to hurry, Llandry thought. Iver and Ori escorted her to within twenty feet of the nearest of them, and there they halted.
'That's as close as you're going,' Iver ordered. 'You can communicate from here, I take it.'
'Yes, sir, easily.'
'Let's get on with it, then.'
Let me do the talking for a bit, Ori, okay?
Sure, Ori agreed with his usual affability. I'll be listening in though.
Llandry nodded assent to this, then turned her thoughts towards the nearest drayk. This one was a female, with creamy-coloured scales. Her size was similar to Llandry's.
This common ground didn't make her any friendlier, however. What do you want, traitor? The defeated draykon's voice hissed in Llandry's mind, full of resentment. But behind it there were hints of fear, and desperation, and a great deal of weariness. As angry as they were, these drayks might nonetheless welcome an end to a conflict they had come so close to winning, yet ultimately lost.
Greetings, Wing-friend, Llandry said politely. She ignored the snort of disgust that followed her choice of address, and went on. I'd be grateful to learn how many of you were involved in the attack on this city. A precise number, if you can.
What is it that you think to do with that information?
I believe that one of your number is missing, Llandry replied.
The drayk's tail twitched. Missing?
Yes. You see, we have only twenty-seven of your fellows in custody besides the half-dozen I see here. The city and its environs have been searched, and no other remains have been discovered. Were there thirty-three of you when you arrived?
There were thirty-four, the draykon admitted. But your people have destroyed several of ours, so already you have given me a lie. You do not have twenty-seven.
None were destroyed, Llandry said firmly. In fact they were hidden, and you were led to believe them destroyed. This ploy had been Iver's idea too. Llandry had learned of it only belatedly, but much to her relief. It had never sat well with her, in spite of the extent of the damage they had inflicted. She was too much draykon herself to celebrate such brutality.
That cannot be the truth, said the other drayk suspiciously.
Why not?
Your kind never tells the truth.
Llandry opted to avoid that argument. You may believe whatever you choose, but I urge you to discuss this with your fellows. I fear that your erstwhile ally is behind the disappearance of one of your number - a male, it must be.
The draykon spat at her. If it is so, it is no business of yours.
As you wish. Llandry gave the mental equivalent of a shrug and withdrew, knowing that she had said enough. The draykon, however belligerent, had suffered a moment's doubt as well. That would be enough to encourage her to talk the matter over with the others.
'We should give them a little time,' she said to Iver as they left the draykoni behind. 'I've no doubt that Lady Eva is right: Krays trapped one of their number while they were in his domain. Once they realise they have been betrayed, they may turn some of their anger towards him instead. Having a common enemy might help relations along, or maybe not, but who knows. It's worth a try.'
Iver gave a curt nod. 'It may be as you say. I'll call for you again shortly, but in the meantime I suggest you get some rest.' With that he walked off, leaving Llandry and Ori to their own devices.
'I wonder how Avane is doing,' Ori said after a moment.
'The Lokants are good. I'm sure she is well.'
Ori nodded, but his expression was dubious. 'Maybe we could visit her.'
'There's no one to take us at the moment, but when Eva comes back we can ask her.' She paused. 'Ori, if the drayks don't produce Pensould soon then I want to go looking for him.'
'You think we could find him?'
'Probably, yes. Pense and I found Isand's body, even though it was buried. It should be possible to sense the presence of a draykon-grave. It depends how well they've hidden him.'
Ori grimaced. 'Yes, and they'd know better than anyone how to hide a drayk from another drayk. It'll be much better if they would just tell us.'
Llandry sighed. 'Much better,' she agreed. 'And that is exactly why they refuse to do so.'
'I miss Graaf,' said Ori suddenly. 'Should've brought him with us.'
'Graaf?'
'My orboe.'
'You have an orboe?' Llandry was astonished. Orboes were large, shaggily furred and disturbingly willing to eat just about anything. They were also notoriously difficult to beguile, even for powerful summoners.
But Ori wasn't just a powerful summoner, of course. He was a draykon.
'Well, no, not anymore,' Ori was saying. 'But I did make friends with one of them, in Iskyr. He followed me around for a while.'
'What happened to him?'
'Nothing,' Ori shrugged. 'I persuaded him to stay behind when we all went to the Library. Didn't think he'd manage well in that environment.'
Llandry grinned. 'You could consider making smaller friends, next time.'
'Like an orting? Quite true. That would be much more convenient.'
Llandry looked down at the little orting, restored once more to his rightful place over her belly. He had been safe with her father, she'd been relieved to learn, though the experience had been traumatic for him. He now lay comfortably asleep, his stomach full.
Talk of Iskyr made her think of her grandfather, too. She hadn't seen him since he had "helped" her and her friends with their summoning skills. Had he stayed in Waeverleyne all that time, or had he gone back to Iskyr by now? Probably the latter, she decided.
Nonetheless, she should go and see what had become of Rheas. He may be a nasty old man, but he was still her grandfather.