Empire of Night

Chapter Twenty One

The New Reality

The beast was enormous.

Inerys watched, breathless, as she leant further out over the railing.

“Is that–”

“Ephaxus. One of eight wyverns we have stationed here at Mistwatch,” Rhydian said.

Moonlight glinted off of the creature’s opalescent hide as it crawled forth from the shadow of the cloister, not upon ordinary feet, but two gigantic wings. They were unlike anything she had ever seen, for each membranous limb bore two long, finger-like digits along the wrist in addition to the main wing juncture. She hesitated to call them hands, but the taloned foreclaws acted as a sort of base upon which to walk. However, it did so with a certain hesitancy, she noticed, like a cautious feline traversing unstable or unfamiliar ground.

It halted halfway through the arch, its horned head swinging around to regard none other than Sorisanna. The sage gave the wyvern’s snout an affectionate pat, despite being utterly dwarfed. The long, gently upswept horns stemming from above the creature’s eyes were near twice as long as she was tall, yet the woman appeared utterly at ease. She backed several paces toward the cloister heart and Inerys was sure she heard the woman speak, though the exact words were lost to the breeze howling through the crags. With a low rumble, the creature adjusted its posture, arching its long neck with the ease and grace of a swan. Its steps were slow and deliberate as it continued forward, Sorisanna leading it through a series of specific motions and stretches, if her gesticulations were any indication. The creature mirrored the movements, in its own way, performing some far easier than others.

The hind legs, while powerful in appearance, were jerky and stiff. The hips would sway awkwardly every few steps, causing a set of lesser wings, if one could even call them that, to fan wildly from the base of the tail in an effort to keep from stumbling sideways. Its rear talons dug deep into the grass, its huffs and the occasional growl of frustration cutting through the wind.

Inerys’ brow knit as she watched.

“What’s wrong with it?” She asked, sparing Rhydian a glance.

“He was injured during our fight with the woman who attacked you,” he said grimly, taking his place upon the rail beside her and gesturing toward the wyvern’s hind end, “his back was broken right there, above his hips. Sorisanna spent the better part of two days repairing the damage, but unfortunately there’s only so much she can do for his coordination. It should return in time, though, and with no small amount of therapy, from what she's told me.”

It was difficult to believe anything shy of another wyvern could harm a creature of his size. And harder still that such a wound could be mended in the span of a few days. Inerys had heard rumors of the sorcerers’ healing capabilities, though she had never seen them for herself. Sorisanna, it seemed, was on another level entirely. Inerys’ fingers strayed toward the mottled, uneven flesh above her collarbone. There were still places along the scar where she could not quite feel the pressure of her own fingertips, nor the slight chill in the air that caused the rest of her skin to prickle.

“How was it broken?” she asked.

A muscle flexed along his jaw. “The woman jumped him from above and practically snapped his spine in two when she landed.”

Blinking, Inerys set back on her heels.

“Wait, you’re telling me she did that? How? He has to be close to–”

“Forty-five meters long,” he said, shaking his head. “When you reach Ascensions like hers, size no longer matters.”

She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. Forty-five meters. How did size not matter? Better yet, how large were these females?

“And you ride those things?” She asked.

He grinned. “We do, but it’s a partnership. You don’t hop up on a wyvern’s back and order them about like a horse.”

“It’s a wonder you ride them at all,” she muttered, trying to comprehend what compelled someone to climb on the back of something like that in the first place, “saddling one must be a nightmare.”

“Not as much as you may think. There’s no girth to cinch around them like there is for a horse or camel. The expansion of their chests and shoulders during flight simply doesn’t allow for one. Even if there was, there would have to be another strap or series of straps, to hold the saddle steady during maneuvers,” he said and gestured along the wyvern’s back, “See how the membrane of the main wing extends down over the lesser hindwing at the base of the tail there? It makes it impossible to run any additional rigging.”

Inerys tilted her head as she studied the creature. In many ways, she found the hindwings above the hips reminiscent of those of a lunar moth. They weren’t really wings, exactly. At least as far as she understood them. They were more fin-like appendages; long and elegant, like those of the fancy fish she’d once spied in the ponds of Aeodran’s upper district as a girl. They gradually tapered half way down the beast’s lengthy tail, leaving the rest bare, save for an additional set of horizontally fanning fins along the tip. Here and there, she caught hints of a rosy hue along the undersides of the membranes, akin to those of the intermittent crests running in twin paths along the length of the spine from mid-skull to tail.

He was as beautiful as he was terrifying.

“How do you ride, then? Surely not bareback?”

Rhydian shook his head. “The saddle is mounted directly to the platescales along their back. They’re difficult to spot from here, especially without his saddle, but there are several metal rings fused to the plates between his shoulders.”

She couldn’t imagine such was particularly pleasant and shifted her own shoulders to ward off the sympathetic prickle the notion evoked.

“Is it uncomfortable for them?”

“More often than not, they hardly notice they're there. If there were any undue chafing, I would never hear the end of it. Especially from Tanuzet,” he said with the barest hint of a smile, “Our saddles were designed to keep the riders in place without sacrificing any mobility in the air. You’ll have the chance to see one for yourself soon enough.”

Inerys stiffened and cut him a swift glance. He couldn’t be serious. Fascinating as they were, she was perfectly content where she was. The creature was large enough to snap her up without a second thought, if it didn’t accidentally step on her first.

“I think I’d rather keep my distance,” she said, even as her eyes strayed back to the spectacle below.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught his sidelong glance; the slight, smirking edge to his lips.

“A shame,” he said innocently enough, “Tanuzet was looking forward to an introduction.”

She knew she should have walked away and not taken the bait, yet found herself asking, “Is . . . that one yours?”

“She is,” he said with an air of pride as he turned to her, “Would you like to meet her?”

Inerys’ heart skipped a beat, though whether it was in response to the anticipation of such a meeting, or the wicked delight in his silvery eyes, she wasn’t sure.

“Can you promise she won’t eat me?”

“Lucky for you, you’re not her taste,” he said in a light tease.

“You’ll forgive me if that doesn’t exactly put my mind at ease.”

He chuckled. “You have my word, Inerys. You’ll come to no harm tonight, nor any other.”

She searched his face, canting her head.

“Your word? Or your oath?” She wondered.

His lips twitched into a half smile. “You’re a quick study.”

“You wouldn’t let that other man leave the room without one. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t leave an impression.”

“Fair enough. Consider them one in the same. I don’t make promises lightly. Neither does Tanuzet.”

With all she’d seen, it was difficult not to take him at his word. Thus far, he had done nothing to make her question his sincerity. If anything, she felt foolish for questioning his motives at nearly every opportunity. He’d seen to her comfort as well as her health and she was all but a stranger to him. A suspect one in the beginning, yes, but he had kept his word to her all the same, hadn’t he? She supposed she could trust him a little further. . .

She bit her lower lip, ever mindful of her newly minted fangs. “All right.”

Rhydian’s eyes practically sparkled as he turned down the terrace. “Come, it will be easier for her to land below.”

Inerys blinked. She was fairly certain she’d only agreed to meeting one of those beasts, but stepped after him nonetheless. He led her down a series of stairs cut into the rock along the path, his long legs taking the steps two at a time. He was nearing the bottom of the third and final set before she’d so much as made it down the first. Her knees barked in protest with each descending step and by the time she reached the cloister landing, she could hardly keep herself upright. Her trembling legs threatened to give out despite her stubborn will to remain upright. A few flights of stairs should have been child’s play to her, yet here she was, wheezing like a horse run ragged.

She leaned into the wall, head pressed against the cold stone as she sought some small manner of reprieve. She was beginning to understand Sorisanna’s insistence on short walks, yet felt as though she’d hardly gone anywhere at all, given the sheer size of the keep. Some distance away, she heard Rhydian curse under his breath before he came trotting back.

“Are you all right?” He asked.

She managed a quick nod, her breaths still coming in short pants as she said, “Some of us aren’t quite as excited as you are.”

He winced. “Ayduin tells me I have a tendency to let my excitement get the better of me.”

“She may be on to something,” she said, hoping to ease some of her embarrassment with a light-hearted jest.

He cracked a smile, but said, “Cycle your essence a few times. It will help take the edge off while you recover.”

Inerys didn’t have the breath to argue even if she wanted to. Closing her eyes, she sought the flow of her vital essence and clumsily coaxed it onward. In her defense, it had been flowing prior to her introspection, albeit at a miserable pace. The half-frozen honey she spooned into her breakfast during the winter months moved with more enthusiasm, if she were honest. The more she pressed, though, the easier her breaths became.

“I wish I had known that trick prior to all this,” she said, banishing some of the beaded moisture from her brow with the back of her hand as she straightened.

“Cycling certainly has its benefits,” he said, “the more you do it, the better you’ll feel.”

“So I’ve been told. I still feel like a miserable drunkard,” she muttered, “but at least I can breathe again.”

Rhydian frowned. “Would you like me to help you across the yard?”

“I’ll be all right,” she assured, “after all, walking it supposed to be good for me, right?”

He grimaced as he peeked at the stairwell at her back. “In moderation.”

The man appeared to be contemplating just how much of an earful he was about to receive from a certain sage.

Noting his apprehension, Inerys teased, “When Sorisanna asks who’s idea this was, don’t expect any mercy.”

He cast her a half-hearted glare.

Across the way, the white wyvern suddenly turned his head skyward. Out of instinct, Inerys followed his gaze in time to catch a great shadow move across the stars high above the peak of the mountain. A pitched, nickering whistle echoed out over the night and the sound stung her ears as keenly as a blade driven into her skull. She clapped her hands over them in an attempt to spare her sanity, her teeth grit to the point of pain. The cry was mercifully brief, yet left her head pounding. A strong hand found her back as she listed to one side, keeping her upright as she struggled to regain her barings.

Wind lashed the cloister from above, howling and hissing as the second wyvern alighted a healthy distance from the first. The yard as a whole could have easily housed two more beasts with room to spare, despite their immense size, yet the newcomer's wings seemed to engulf it in its entirety when fully spread. They were nearly twice the length of the body and it wasn't until the wyvern fully settled, that Inerys registered the size difference between the two. If Ephaxus was near forty-five meters in length, this one had to be closing in on sixty. Nothing egregious, but noticeable.

This must have been one of the females, given her physicality and the muted nature of her deep green coloration. Her snout was more refined than the male’s, her frame more lithe, but she was no less intimidating. She studied Inerys with narrowed, yellow eyes that were far too intrusive for comfort. The intelligence behind them was undeniable and the sudden scrutiny sent a shiver down her spine.

Her first instinct was to run, yet she forced it down and drew a steadying breath. After all, Rhydian had given her his word, hadn’t he? She was in no danger. This creature, no matter how large, wouldn’t harm her. She broke into a cold sweat despite her inward assurances, for intelligent or not, this Tanuzet was a predator in every sense of the word. And a very large one at that.

The wyvern’s nostrils subtly flared as she stalked forward with an uncanny grace. Inerys stiffened and held her breath as Tanuzet halted a few meters shy of the stairwell, lowering her elegant neck to inspect her more closely. Or swallow her whole, if she so desired. The membranous crests along her striped neck flared briefly and to Inerys’ relief, the wyvern regarded her not as prey, but rather a subject of curiosity. Her head canted to one side, then the other before she blinked deeply.

A slight pressure built between Inerys’ temples as a deep, yet feminine voice said, I am pleased to see you still live.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. She hadn’t seen the creature’s jaw so much as twitch and yet . . .

The wyvern was smiling. The subtle expression was as unmistakable as it was unnerving and for a heartbeat, Inerys swore she saw Rhydian’s mischief shining through Tanuzet’s eyes.

I fear you would not understand the complexity of our spoken tongue, the voice said, as smoothly as if it were one of Inerys’ own thoughts, It is far easier for me to speak mind-to-mind beyond my kin.

Curiously, it was excitement, not fear, that chased a shiver along Inerys’ upper arms.

Does that mean you can read my thoughts? She asked, rather abruptly.

Snorting in what must have been disbelief, Tanuzet’s head recoiled in surprise. Rhydian paused as well, coming around to stare at Inerys in shared bewilderment. In truth, the similarities between he and the wyvern’s expressions were uncanny. The huntress shifted on her feet as her gaze flitted between the two, wondering what she had possibly done to warrant the reaction.

A curious sort of purr broke the stunned silence and Tanuzet slowly lowered her head until the end of her snout was within a hair’s breadth of Inerys once more. She nearly surrendered a step, yet something urged her to hold her ground. The wyvern’s breath wasn’t particularly appealing, but there was little she could do to escape it. A part of her had expected it to reek of carrion or some other ill-fated atrocity, so she was rather taken aback when she caught faint hints of pine and mint instead. Not enough to fully mask the inherent scent of a functioning maw, but enough to suggest the wyvern engaged in some form of oral care, as absurd as the notion was.

No, I cannot read your thoughts. I can only speak to you, and it seems you can already speak to me, she said, her tone rather pleased.

Inerys could still scarcely believe it herself. How was she able to have a conversation in this manner at all? Had she not been so keenly aware of her aching joints, she would have easily dismissed this all as some sort of fever dream.

Already? What do you mean? She asked, looking between the two.

Most are not able to reciprocate my method of speech until later Ascensions, Tanuzet said with a contemplative hum, Rhydian included.

“Which is to say your mental core shares more in common with wyverns than my own. Or any other Adai, for that matter,” he said with interest.

Inerys’ cheeks warmed. “I’m sorry, it just sort of . . . happened.”

“There’s no need to apologize. You're something entirely new to us. There's bound to be oddities. Likely moreso than there already have been.”

Tanuzet rumbled her agreement, then asked, What are you called, little one?

“You mean my name? It’s Inerys,” she said, “you must be Tanuzet?”

The wyvern gave a slight dip of her head. Tanuzet ne’Rhydian. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.

“The honor is mine,” she said, deciding it was best to remain on the wyvern’s good side.

A little flattery couldn't hurt.

Again, that glint of amusement shone through in her yellow eyes. It didn’t ease Inerys’ nerves, exactly, but it helped take the edge off. To some degree, at least. Tanuzet’s size alone still unsettled her more than she'd care to admit. She thought she heard a soft sigh of relief from Rhydian, but it could have just as easily have been the wind.

“You shouldn’t have to worry about most of the other wyverns stationed here, aside from Ayduin’s bondmate, Vaelor. I’m sure he’ll make an appearance at some point in the near future, now that you’ve been introduced.”

Inerys wasn’t thrilled by the prospect, but reluctantly nodded.

I have already spoken to him, Tanuzet said, He will behave himself, but do not be surprised if you earn a glare or two from afar.

Rhydian grimaced, “I apologize for them in advance. He tends to be as ill-tempered as Ayduin. In the unlikely event you cross paths with a bright copper wyvern, it might be best if you steer clear for the time being.”

She hadn’t failed to catch the implication. The fear she’d suppressed these last few days reared its head and she fought to wrestle it back down before it overtook all rational thought.

“At least I’ll be able to identify him easily enough.”

Every now and again, she felt another’s attention from across the cloister and was fairly confident she already knew the culprit. He had noticed her shortly after Tanuzet’s landing and had been sparing not-so-subtle glances ever since. Inerys had done her best to ignore it, though her tolerance was beginning to wear thin. She had been the subject of so much scrutiny and suspicion already that she wanted nothing more than to crawl under the nearest rock and never come out.

Even now, his eyes were upon her. Shifting on her feet, she drew her arms around herself as she braved a look. Their eyes met and Inerys’ breath hitched behind her teeth. Ephaxus’ nostrils flared and a portion of his scaly lips pulled back to reveal blackened fangs. She quickly averted her eyes and deftly stepped to place the bulk of Tanuzet’s wing between their line of sight.

Rhydian frowned, having noticed the interaction, however brief.

“How is he?” Rhydian asked.

The crests along Tanuzet’s neck stirred as she withdrew her head to follow his gaze.

Better, but I fear he may be overexerting himself. He is keen on joining us, when the time comes.

“I can’t say I'm surprised,” he sighed.

Nor I, but it does not change the fact he cannot stay aloft, yet alone take flight.

For the briefest of moments, Inerys’ heart soared. They were taking her back. They were taking her home. A relieved smile bloomed across her lips as she searched their faces, only to have it fade when she stopped to think. Why would Ephaxus want to join them, especially given his current state and hostility? For all the discussion there had been around Inerys and her condition, never once had anyone mentioned taking her back to her home, nor had they alluded to the possibility.

She knew, then.

Deep down, she knew.

“I’m going to miss you,” Soren had said.

The cool night air bit at the solitary tear that slid down her cheek. Sucking in a pained breath, she forced herself to look away. She could lie to herself, tell herself the subject of her return would arise as her physical condition progressed, but what would be the point? She had been told she was something entirely new to them on several occasions. The circumstances of that cruel twist of fate was yet another matter as well. Why would they go through such lengths to facilitate her recovery only to turn her loose?

Before she could stop herself, she asked, “What’s going to happen to me?”

Rhydian gave a start, but she sought his eyes all the same.

“I have a family out there, people who need me.”

“You know you can't go back to them,” he said quietly, “not as you are now.”

The truth of his words robbed her of what strength she had left and she slowly sank to her knees. She couldn’t, could she? On the off chance she was able to flee this place and find her way, what then? Her body was still in ruin and she hadn’t the faintest idea how to fully mend it on her own. At best, she had a month before her body finally tore itself apart, and she wasn’t fool enough to believe she would stumble across someone else who happened to be willing or able to help.

Even if she managed such a miracle, there was still the matter of her new nature to consider. She’d become a monster; a horror matched and made by some ill-fated stranger bent on her blood. A similar need lurked along the fringes of her mind. It was a deep need, an old need and one she couldn’t quite explain. While it was sated for the time being, a part of her knew it was only a matter of time before her hunger reared its head.

She should have listened to Alaric that night. If she hadn’t been fool enough to return to those cursed woods, none of this would have happened. She would be home right now, safe and warm beside the hearth, not haggard and half dead who knew how far from those closest to her.

“It’s not fair,” she whispered.

“No. It isn’t,” Rhydian said as he came to crouch before her, “but this is hardly the end for you, Inerys.”

She glanced up at him through wet lashes, stray strands of windswept hair clinging to her cheeks.

He sighed, steeling himself.

“There are people who want to meet you. Powerful people. Now, I can’t make any promises on their behalf, but if anyone can help you, it would be them. Neither I nor Mistwatch have the resources necessary to make you whole again, but I know of a good place to start. With a little time and effort, we can have you well enough for extended travel. When we do, I’ll take you to them.”

They would be taking her even further from home . . .

When she finally found her voice, it was weak. “Is – Is there no other way?”

If we do not do this, you will be dead within the month, Tanuzet said gently.

Inerys knew the truth of it in her bones.

“Is there a chance I can go home?”

A certain warmth softened the otherwise harsh angles of Rhydian’s face.

“One day, perhaps.”

One day.

Bleak as the prospect might be, it was far better than the certainty of death. Despite her shaking hands, she reached to banish the hot tears that fell from her eyes. If there was a chance, no matter how small, she would be a fool not to take it. She hadn’t the slightest idea of how to begin or what to expect, but these people, alien as they were, had offered their help. To say nothing of what they had done for her already . . .

Through a final, smothered sob, she asked, “What do I need to do?”