Dare gasped and choked. Moon managed to roll half over, easing the warrior to the side and taking some of the weight of the net off him. He was young, with light bronze skin and red-brown hair; he trembled violently from blood loss, his skin cold. Blood soaked his light-colored shirt, and Moon could feel it, slick and warm on his arms and chest.
Moon snarled and looked up. The kethel had dropped them on one of the open decks of the bladder-boat. The huge air bladder hung overhead and the rounded wall of a cabin was to one side. Two Aventeran groundlings stared down at them. Both were male, bundled up in knits and leather coats against the wind streaming over the deck, and both were armed with smaller projectile weapons. The stink of Fell clung to the wood. Moon bared his teeth.
One of the groundlings flinched and lifted his weapon. The other grabbed the barrel and pushed it away. “No, they’re wounded,” he said in Kedaic. It wasn’t until that moment that Moon realized it was Havram.
Dare curled up against Moon’s chest and Moon pulled him closer. He was dying; Moon could smell it. He grated out, “Why did you do this? We were trying to help you.”
The other groundling stared, as if he hadn’t expected Moon to be able to talk. Havram said, “We had no choice.”
Moon felt a footstep vibrate through the wooden boards, just before he sensed a Fell ruler. Dare whimpered and curled tighter into Moon’s chest.
A Fell ruler in groundling form stepped into view, looking down at them. He resembled Ivades in that he was tall and slim, his skin white as the palest marble, and the long hair tossed by the wind was dark and fine. But the gravity of his presence stopped Moon’s breath. This ruler was as old and powerful as Ivades had been young and foolish. Moon had never seen him before; it was a small relief, at least, that this ruler was not one of those he had seen with Ranea’s flight.
In Raksuran, because Fell always spoke the language of their prey, the ruler said, “Are you hurt?”
Moon hissed. “What does it look like?”
The ruler tilted his head at the groundlings and said in Kedaic, “You injured them.”
The other groundling said, “They were about to escape. I had to fire on them.”
Havram added, “This is what you wanted. Now take them and go.”
The ruler shifted, the effect different from a Raksuran, as if its body became liquid and flowed into the new shape. Its shifted form was larger than Ivades’ had been, its armored crest more prominent. It said, “So we shall go.”
It snapped out a clawed hand and slashed Havram’s head off, slapped the weapon out of the second man’s hand, caught him by the front of his jacket and slung him over the rail of the deck. Screaming erupted from the cabin behind Moon, then just as abruptly ceased. The ruler flicked the blood off its claws and said to Moon, “These creatures taste like carrion. They’re no use at all.”
The kethel’s hand swooped down again and snatched Moon and Dare off the deck. Moon would have screamed if he had time to gasp a breath; a heartbeat later he realized the kethel hadn’t crushed them. It was carrying them somewhere. The vibration of its powerful wingbeats traveled through the muscles of its arm.
The hand enclosing them shut out all but a little light shining through narrow gaps between the kethel’s claws. A little cool air leaked in, just enough to keep them from smothering in the sickening heat and stench of the creature’s skin. The net ground into Moon’s back and shoulders, and had to be exerting painful pressure on Dare’s wounds. Moon whispered, “It’s all right, try to hold on,” then felt Dare’s death rattle as the last breath left his lungs.
The kethel flew for some endless time. Moon fought down fear that threatened to choke him, forced himself not to struggle against the cooling weight of Dare’s body. If these Fell had the same plans as the ones who had stalked Indigo Cloud…
Finally the kethel landed, and Moon heard wind moving over rock, and less identifiable sounds. Then the slivers of light dimmed and altered, and he felt the kethel lean forward.
Its claws opened and Moon and Dare’s body spilled out and landed on a hard surface.
Dazed, bruised, and sticky with Dare’s blood, Moon tried to push himself up. He had been dropped on the deck of Delin’s flying boat; he recognized the color and texture of the wood. But the air was stale and thick, as if it had already been breathed once, and so heavy with the scent of Fell stench it was like trying to inhale dirt. He blinked hard to clear his vision, but there was nothing wrong with his eyes. The light was tinted a murky gray-red, as if it was falling through a piece of gut. Moon managed to roll half over and get a look at what was above the flying boat.
At first he thought it was a fog, or a heavily clouded sky. It was oddly mottled, thick, reddish-gray. Realizing what it was, he hissed in despair.
It was the inside of a sac, one of the containers made from the secretions of the kethel. From the fact that it was more than large enough to contain the flying boat, it must be the giant sac that Stone had seen. His eyes caught movement in the dimness and he saw dakti swarmed over the inside of it, working on a tear in the surface. The kethel must have had to open a slit to deposit Moon on the boat.
Moon pushed away from Dare’s body and tore at the net. Figures leaned over him, pulling at the cords; he flinched and snarled before he realized it was Floret and Chime and Saffron. They untangled the net, and Moon shook their hands off and shoved to his feet. Before Moon could speak, Chime shifted to groundling and flung himself into Moon’s arms. Moon stumbled, but stayed upright. Chime clutched him like a lifeline and sobbed once into his shoulder. Saffron crouched down to touch Dare’s face, then hissed in dismay as she realized he was dead.
They stood on the deck near the steering cabin. The interior of the sac was vast and murky, the air too warm and humid, laced with drifting mist. Supports like leafless branches crossed the vast space, made of more of the hardened secretion. The whole space was moving, the boat swaying a little with the force of the sac’s motion, nudged along with it by bumping against the supports. Moon’s sense of direction told him they were heading northwest, away from Aventera and the plateau, away from the Reaches.
Other shapes hung in the dimness; Moon caught a glimpse of something huge, like a flying island, but it was wrapped in some web-like secretion. Whatever it was, it looked horrible. Patting Chime’s back, Moon asked Floret and Saffron, “Who’s dead?”
“Horn is dead.” Saffron named one of the Opal Night warriors, her gaze still on Dare. Both she and Floret were wounded, with scratches and tears in their scales. “Ivory is hurt, badly.”
Moon growled a curse. “Who else is hurt?”
“Gallant, Tribute, and Fleet. And the younger ones, from Indigo Cloud—”
“Root and Song,” Floret supplied. “The Fell could have killed us all, but they stopped when Ivory went down.”
Saffron faced Moon, her spines flicking with anxiety. “Celadon and the others?”
“I don’t know. If they got away, I didn’t see them.” Moon took Chime by the shoulders and moved him away. Chime had bruises on his face, his neck, dark stains on his bronze skin. “Let’s get below.”
Saffron gathered up Dare’s body and started toward the stairs. In the doorway, Moon stopped Chime and let Floret and Saffron get ahead of them. He whispered, “What did Shade and Lithe do in the fight?”
Chime answered hurriedly, “I didn’t see. They were on the other end of the ship with Ivory and Saffron and the other Opal Night warriors. But they both had blood on their hands and teeth afterward, so they must have shifted to fight.”