Gwenna’s first thought was that the Malkeenian bastard was trying to ram them. His boat slid down the south side of the swell, straight at her beam. Gwenna shifted, trying to get clear of the collision, but then, at the last minute, Valyn swung the rudder around again, running his boat tight in parallel with Gwenna’s.
“Go,” he shouted, handling the rudder with one hand while he stabbed his finger at Gwenna’s boat with the other.
He wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to Ha Lin.
The girl hesitated, glanced from Valyn to Gwenna, then back.
“Go,” he shouted again. “I’ll be fine.”
Ha Lin gritted her teeth and jumped, caught the gunwale of Gwenna’s boat and hauled herself in.
“Stubborn fucking bastard,” she was muttering.
Without Ha Lin managing the sail, everything had gone straight to shit over on Valyn’s boat. The boom swung crazily in the wind, and he looked likely to capsize as the vessel went dead in the water. Valyn, however, was grinning, waving them on even as he fought to keep the boat upright.
“Go win,” he shouted as he faded back into the rain. “Go win!”
They did.
Valyn, on the other hand, didn’t manage to coax his boat back into the harbor until late that night, when the worst of the storm had passed. When he finally climbed up onto the dock, Gwenna started to go to him, to throw her arms around him in a great celebratory hug. Ha Lin was there first. Gwenna, with nowhere to go, nothing to do with her arms, settled for a weak wave. “Thanks,” she shouted. It wasn’t clear if he heard her or not, but the damage was already done. She always remembered that smile, the way he’d waved them on even as his own boat foundered.
And now that boy is dead, Gwenna thought, staring at the grim specter of a man who sat across from her.
It had been a baffling shock to find Valyn at all. The last she’d seen of him had been in Long Fist’s camp out on the Blood Steppe. Given what Talal had told her later, and what Kaden had said about Adare, she’d felt certain that one way or another Valyn had died up on that tower in Andt-Kyl. She’d carried the loss around inside her like an ache, and though it had faded over the intervening months, she’d expected that a part of her would mourn her whole life for Valyn and Laith both, good men who had died fighting, trying to do the right thing.
Except Valyn was alive. He had been alive all along, although what had happened to him, Gwenna had no idea. His eyes were ruined, destroyed by the same gash that someone had carved straight across his face. He was thinner than she remembered, strong but awfully gaunt, a spiderweb of scar cut into his skin. He was a long cry from the earnest, determined cadet Gwenna remembered, a long cry, even, from what he’d become as a Wing leader. It felt as though some creature had crawled into the body of the boy she’d loved all those years ago, crawled in and taken it over. A creature of hunger and darkness.
The rest of the Kettral were even more beaten up, just as surprising a discovery, but at least they were still recognizable. Something fucking awful had happened to the Flea’s arm, which seemed to be flayed from the elbow to the wrist. Newt’s lower leg was crushed all to Hull; he wouldn’t be flying any more missions, that was clear enough, although the realization didn’t seem to have dulled his strange spirit any. As Talal worked on his leg, the ugly demolitions master met Gwenna’s eyes.
“The timely arrival of a friend is worth more than all the spice in the western islands,” he said.
“Yeah,” Gwenna replied. “I wouldn’t rely on timely arrivals any more than you have to. We stumbled across you mostly by accident. We were scouting the Urghul army for the Emperor. Didn’t expect to find a handful of busted-up Kettral trying to keep the fight all to themselves.”
Quick Jak had put Allar’ra down on a gentle stretch of beach just northwest of the Neck, and the other Kettral, Gwenna’s Kettral, had landed along with them. As the huge birds furled their wings, the newly blooded soldiers, abuzz with the recent action, checked their weapons and gear, talking excitedly the whole time. Gwenna didn’t feel excited. She felt tired. Adare’s orders had been to scout the Urghul and find il Tornja, which meant they’d managed one out of two. Maybe the Emperor wanted her to stay out in the field, but with the Urghul army hammering down on Annur, hunting around for a lone general didn’t seem to make much sense. They needed to get back to the city, to help see to the coming defense. It had been tempting to fly directly there, but the Flea and his Wing needed medical care, and more than that, there were some questions that needed answers before Gwenna faced Adare again.
“So,” she said, glancing over the small group. “Who wants to start?”
Valyn’s scarred eyes were fixed on her. There was no way he could see through those, but he didn’t move like a blind man. Gwenna studied him for a moment, then looked away.
“Where’s Shaleel?” the Flea asked. “Who’s in charge on the Islands?”
“Yeah,” Gwenna said slowly. “Funny you should ask that.”
It didn’t take long to tell the story of the Eyrie’s self-immolation, Jakob Rallen and his tyranny, the ultimate victory of the resistance. When she was done, everyone was silent for a long time, listening to waves lisp up onto the sand. Finally the Flea looked over at the cluster of birds and the soldiers who were tending to them.
“They did well,” he said simply. “You did well.”
Gwenna felt herself coloring. “Well, if this was it, we could all sit back and drink ourselves warm, but there’s a lot more doing to do.”
“The Urghul…,” the Flea began.
“More than the Urghul,” Gwenna said, realizing only once she’d done it that she had cut the older man off. “Sorry, sir.”
The Flea waved aside her apology. “I’ll shut up. You talk. We don’t know a thing about the strategic picture. You do.”
Gwenna took a deep breath. Valyn still hadn’t spoken. He was stone-still, watching her with those awful blind eyes of his.
“The picture,” she said, turning to face the Flea again, “is about as clear as a bucket of shit mixed with a liberal helping of mud.
“As I’m sure you’ve deduced from the Urghul fucking horde hammering down along the Haag, il Tornja left the northern front weeks back. The Emperor wants to know-”
Valyn spoke for the first time since landing, cutting her off. “The Emperor?”
His voice made Gwenna shiver. “Your sister. The one with the burning eyes-”
“Where is Kaden?”
“I don’t know. We saw him before we went to the Islands-Talal, Annick, and I-he’s the one who sent us to the Islands. He knew what had happened at the Eyrie and he needed birds. When we got back with the birds, though…” She shrugged. “Adare was here. Annur’s an empire again. Sort of. She and the council patched up their rift somehow.”
Valyn leaned forward, eager, hungry. “And just where,” he asked, voice quiet as falling ash, “did my sister say that Kaden had gone?”
“Elsewhere.”
The Flea frowned. “Not much of an explanation.”
“You didn’t press her?” Valyn demanded.
Gwenna stared at him. “Last time I checked, we’re soldiers. When the Emperor says, ‘Go find the Urghul,’ we go find the ’Kent-kissing Urghul.”
“She is not the Emperor,” he growled.
“Well, she’s sitting on the throne,” Gwenna snapped, “which is inside the Dawn Palace. She has burning eyes and everyone keeps calling her Your Radiance, so you could maybe forgive me for missing that particular point. In fact,” she cocked her head to the side, “what is it you’ve been up to all these months, that you know so much about the internal workings of the empire?”
Valyn exhaled between gritted teeth. Gwenna tensed. She could smell his fury on the sea’s salt wind. At her side, Talal leaned back, settling a casual hand on his belt knife, as though he, too, felt the danger. Then it passed.