CHAPTER 8
“The skyhunters will carry you to the edge of our lands,” said Raksha the next morning. “They will leave on their daily patrol as soon as you are ready, but they cannot take you into the Mephidross and dare not stay on the ground long at the Mephidross border.”
“How do we find this Vault of Whispers?” asked Glissa. She looked up at the pteron she was supposed to ride. It was little more than skin stretched across bones. The beast hopped back and forth on long legs, tethered to a metal stake. It towered over Glissa, but its legs were no thicker than Slobad’s scrawny arm. She had no idea how it could get itself off the ground, let alone carry its rider and a passenger.
“You must follow the black sun in the morning,” said Raksha. “By midday it will rise above the Vault before descending over the Glimmervoid.
“What you call suns, we elves call moons,” said Glissa, “and the black moon is difficult to see even at midday. Its light is often washed out by your yellow moon … sun.”
“As it should be,” said Raksha, smiling. “It will be easier to see within the Mephidross. The haze that hangs heavy over the chimneys dulls Dakan’s sun and limns the foul black orb.”
“Slobad can see Ingle fine, huh?” said the goblin. He was standing behind Glissa. She didn’t know if he was more afraid of Raksha or the pterons. “Goblins see Ingle on starless days. Sits like dark hole in sky, reaching for goblin souls.”
“We know,” said Raksha. “That is why we have sent you on this mission. You shall be Glissa’s eyes in the Dross. Now it is time for the skyhunters to leave.”
Raksha grasped Glissa’s hand and shook it hard. “Glissa, go with the sun!” he said. With a swift movement, the Kha grabbed Slobad and lifted him in an embrace. “You,” he said. “Stay alive and return to us. We have missed you.”
Glissa thought Slobad’s face turned an even brighter red than its normal rust color. Raksha tossed the goblin up onto the pteron, behind the skyhunter. Glissa looked up at her own escort, a slight-built female leonin.
“Watch the beak,” said the skyhunter as Glissa clambered up the side of the beast. “A pteron can cut you in half, even back here.”
The elf hitched her leg into the folds of skin under the beast’s front legs. The pteron immediately squawked and swung its head back to glare at Glissa. She could see dozens of sharp teeth sticking out along the edge of the creature’s beak.
“Avoid the wings,” said the skyhunter. “They are sensitive.”
“Those are its wings?” asked Glissa, looking at the skin folded underneath the beast’s long arms.
Glissa perched behind the skyhunter. There was no room in the saddle, so she had to rest on the bony back of the pteron.
“How long will it take to get to the border?” Glissa asked the leonin female.
“No more than a few hours,” she replied. “We should have you on the ground before the last sun rises.”
With that, the skyhunter kicked the pteron and pulled back on the reigns. Glissa watched in amazement as the beast unfolded its wings. They were made of skin and stretched from long claws on its front legs all the way down to the beast’s bony hips. The wings were enormous, each three times as long as Glissa. The pteron flapped its wings, but they did not rise from the ground.
“Ready?” asked the skyhunter over the din of the flapping wings.
“For what?” shouted Glissa.
It was too late. The pteron stepped off the battlement and plummeted toward the valley below the leonin tower. Glissa tried to catch her breath, but the wind whipping past her face made it impossible to breathe. The pteron continued to beat its wings slowly until-about halfway down-they caught the wind and the beast began to level out and curve away from Taj Nar.
Below them, Glissa watched scores of leonin haul nim bodies away from Taj Nar. In the distance she saw smoke rising from a large fire. “You burn the bodies of your enemies?” she asked, pointing at the bonfire.
“No!” exclaimed the skyhunter. “The fire is reserved for leonin fallen, to send their souls into the light. Nim bodies are left for the duskworkers. They eat anything. The nim bodies help keep the duskworkers in check.”
“Quelling their hunger so they don’t attack leonin?” asked Glissa. She forebore to ask exactly what kind of creatures the mycon were.
“Poisoning them to keep their numbers down,” replied the skyhunter. “Have you ever smelled the foul gas that comes from a nim?”
What a pragmatic race, thought Glissa. As they winged across the Glimmervoid, though, she began to understand them better. Outside of Taj Nar, most leonin lived in small settlements. They were cut off from one another by wide expanses of bare metal and razor grass. How different from from the Tangle, thought Glissa as the miles whipped by beneath her. In the Tangle, we live on top of our neighbors. We count on them for everything from protection to hauling water.
Glissa concluded she couldn’t live like the leonin. Or like Slobad had, either. Glissa glanced back at the goblin, hanging on so hard she could see his white knuckles even from a distance. She felt a fondness for the strange little tinkerer, beyond the appreciation she owed him for saving her life. He’d had a hard and lonely life.
* * * * *
Hours later, the rolling hills were replaced by craggy terrain. Where once Glissa saw hills and half-moon mounds that formed homes for leonin settlers, she now saw only broken spires-perhaps the chimneys Raksha had spoken about-and an occasional mound that appeared to have been looted and destroyed. The chimneys were dark, much blacker than the surrounding silver expanse of the remaining Glimmervoid. They jutted up from the flat plain like columns, with wide bases that tapered to jagged tops. Looking past her escort, Glissa saw they were flying toward a black curtain that cut across the Glimmervoid like a dark line. It was as if the moons did not shine past that line.
Glissa couldn’t make out any details past this border between light and dark. A thick green haze obscured the air above the land. All she could see was a glistening sheen on the ground near the border of the hazy curtain. The land dipped down toward the haze, and Glissa was certain that the border moved slightly as she watched.
“What is that?” she called to the skyhunter, pointing to the ground ahead of them.
“The Mephidross,” shouted the leonin. “You won’t enjoy slogging through that.”
A few minutes later, the skyhunter circled the pteron around one of the last chimneys before the curtain of haze. “I have to set down on top, or we won’t get airborne again,” she said to Glissa.
Glissa watched the haze as they drifted lower and lower. The other pteron circled a second chimney. The pteron landed on a small ledge at the tip of the chimney. Glissa crawled down from the flying lizard more nimbly than she had ascended but still landed on her rear when the creature pulled its wing from the way just as she reached for it. She felt sure the pteron smiled at her. It spread its wings and dropped off the edge of the chimney.
The elf rose, brushed herself off, and looked for a way down from the chimney. The outside was sheer and smooth. It would be much harder to climb than a Tangle tree. She peered down into the interior of the chimney, but the yellow moon was still low in the sky and she couldn’t see anything. She couldn’t tell if there was any way out at the bottom.
She looked around for Slobad and spotted him on the ground. He had somehow made it to the bottom of his chimney. Then she noticed movement in the haze. A moment later, a squad of nim appeared, moving right toward her. The chimney might be defensible, but Slobad was already on the ground. She couldn’t leave him alone.