The big claws scraped at Moon from behind, catching in his wings and dragging him away. But Balm shot past him, leapt up to the kethel’s throat to claw at the same spot, and tore at the jagged wounds Moon had left.
Moon ripped the disemboweling claws on his heels across the kethel’s palm as he tore himself free. He leapt to the creature’s shoulder, dodged a snap of its jaws, then swung atop its head.
He landed low on its skull and saw Jade climb back up the kethel’s back; one of its wild blows must have knocked her off. Moon scrambled higher up the skull and got a precarious hold on the armored brow ridge, his claws slipping on the impervious scales. Looking down, he saw one of its eyes was half shut and leaking blood and pus, the lid ripped through. Keening in pain, the kethel twisted around to reach for Jade. Moon stretched forward and stabbed his hand into the remaining eye.
The convulsion flung him off. He slammed into the pavement. Stunned, he lifted his head to see the kethel reeling away, staggering back toward the archways out of the temple. That’s one, he thought, and shoved to his feet.
Warriors were scattered around, locked in bloody fights with dakti. Others lay unmoving on the pavement. He saw a dakti tackle Song, but Chime leapt on it from behind, tearing it off her. The kethel still fought Stone, the two big bodies writhing in combat, black and red blood running over the temple floor. Pearl, atop the kethel’s head, tried to rip at its eyes, but it kept its head down, its jaw buried in Stone’s throat. Pearl couldn’t get purchase. She must have worked a claw in somewhere, because the kethel let go of Stone to fling its head back and knock her away.
Moon lunged forward to take advantage of the opening, but something beat him to it, the white form of an Arbora. Flower? he thought in dismay, as she leapt straight into the kethel’s jaws. It snapped down on her, then reared back. Convulsing, it flopped over backward.
Moon made the distance to it in two long bounds and landed beside it as the big creature stiffened and went still. Not quite still—the pockets of loose skin in its cheeks moved, as if something inside was trying to get out.
Moon yelled in alarm, grabbed the lower jaw, planted his foot on the upper, and shoved. With a crack, the stiff jaw unlocked and Flower spilled out of the kethel’s mouth in her groundling form. She landed on her hands and knees, gasping. The jagged end of a long piece of wood had been driven into the soft flesh at the back of the kethel’s throat.
Moon released the jaw and leaned over Flower. He had to take a harsh breath before he could speak. The stench coming from the dead kethel’s gullet made his throat raw. He couldn’t imagine how Flower felt after much closer exposure to it.
“Are you all right?” He hadn’t seen the stick in her hands in Arbora form, and obviously, neither had the kethel. She must have snatched it up in groundling form and shifted with it, hiding it with the same magic that hid groundling clothes and weapons, then shifted back in the kethel’s mouth. Moon didn’t know whether to be impressed or horrified.
She nodded, gripping his arm for support and letting him help her stand.
“I haven’t done that in a while.” She choked and leaned over to spit. “It’s not a good idea. Stone?”
Moon turned, looking back, expecting to see Stone dragging himself upright. But he still lay where the kethel had dropped him, sprawled on his side on the temple floor. The kethel had torn rents in his scaled hide, and there was a bloody bite in his throat.
“Oh no,” Flower whispered. Moon’s heart contracted. He ran to Stone, barely pausing to rip apart a last wounded dakti that blundered into his way. He flung himself down, eye level with Stone.
This was the first time Moon had clearly seen Stone’s face in his other form, without the blurring effect that he wore like a cloak. His eyes were as big around as Moon’s head, slit in pain, and he panted through clenched fangs, a rough, desperate sound. Moon couldn’t tell if Stone saw him or not.
Moon heard a step behind him and twitched around. It was Jade. She knelt beside him, laid a hand on Stone’s cheek.
“His wings?” she asked, waiting tensely for the answer.
Flower had hurried around to Stone’s back.
“Not broken,” she reported. “He kept them folded.”
Moon was relieved. If Stone had given in to the impulse to use his wings to try to lever himself up under the kethel’s weight, it would have probably broken both, and that would have made his injuries even more devastating. If Stone hadn’t been an experienced and canny fighter, he would be dead.
Flower circled back around Stone’s body, anxiously looking over his wounds. “It’s bad, but he can heal. He’ll have to stay in this form. If he shifts, these wounds will kill him.”
Jade started to speak but a sound shattered the air, a wail of heart-deep loss and pain. It froze Moon in place for an instant, sliced open a buried memory of blood and broken bodies.
Not far away, River knelt over a body, Drift crouched next to him. The figure was in groundling form, twisted and broken. Moon pushed to his feet and moved close enough to see the face. It was Branch.
The others gathered around. Root was limping. Song, Sand, and a couple of Pearl’s warriors had bites and claw marks from the dakti. Chime had a gash across his chest, and Balm was so covered with kethel blood that Moon couldn’t tell if she was injured or not. Pearl stepped in, knelt beside River, and carefully touched Branch’s neck and face. Almost gently, she said, “He’s dead, River. I think the first kethel struck him.”
River made a noise again, a low moan of pain.
Jade hissed out a harsh breath. “Branch told you our plans, Pearl. What else did he do?”
Pearl stood, her claws working as if she wanted to use them on Jade. But she said reluctantly, “Branch was the one who brought me the first message from the Fell.”
That’s convenient, Moon thought, giving her a sideways look. But if Pearl had planned this trap, she wouldn’t have let them shift to their Raksuran forms to fight. Much as he would like to suspect her, he couldn’t get around that fact.
“Someone told the Fell we were meeting here,” Jade said, a growl in her voice. “If it was Branch—”
“No!” River snarled at her. “Not Branch.”
“After we got back to the colony and talked to Stone and Flower, I don’t know where he went.” Balm shook her head, appalled. “I went to rest... He could have left again...”
Pearl glared at Jade. “We’ll deal with this later. We have to get back to the court. The Fell will already be there. All this was a ruse to get Stone and me away from the colony so they could attack.”
“I know that,” Jade snapped. She turned to Flower, who still sat beside Stone. “You’ll stay with him?”
“I will.” Flower nodded. “Send help when you can.”
“The Islanders,” Chime said suddenly. He turned to Moon. “If Branch was the one who betrayed us to the Fell—”
River rounded on him furiously. “It wasn’t him!”
Moon ignored him. Chime was right. If Branch had told the Fell about the meeting here, then he would have told them about the flying boats. The Fell would know that groundlings were nearby and would search the area for them. He said, “I’ll warn them.”
“No.” Pearl gave the order sharply, not bothering to look at him. “We need everyone to defend the court.”
Moon tensed in rebellion. Pearl could mate with herself; he wasn’t letting the Islanders die for her stubbornness and Branch’s perfidy. But Flower said, “Let him go.”