They did not get that chance.
While Mena still looked behind, Elya broke her speed and cut to one side. The motion whipped Mena’s neck around savagely. A frekete that had lain in hiding for them surged up from a hollow, right in front of them. It raked one of its claws through Elya’s thin wing membrane and then down her side. Blood erupted from the wound. The beast’s claws cut through the saddle straps. Mena felt her harness go loose and cant off to one side. She barely managed to say atop Elya by clinging to her neck.
Elya skimmed away, so near to the earth that her feet touched down briefly as each hill rose beneath her. That did not last long either. Another frekete and rider dropped from the sky in front of them. Elya snapped her wings in and twisted past them, sleek as a spear. The Auldek’s sword sung by Mena’s ear, so close. Elya reached another rise, but her feet twisted beneath her. She crashed down on the other side, grinding and rolling, Mena with her in a tangle of harness and webbing and wings. Mena felt the familiar, breath-stealing pain of her shoulder being dislocated, her arm flopping limply.
The frekete and its rider swooped over the rise. Mena tried to grab for her sword hilt with her good arm, but the scabbard had twisted around beneath her and the pain in her shoulder made it hard to control her movements. The frekete touched the ground in a flying run. Mena knew it would reach her before she could draw her weapon. She was still struggling to get the King’s Trust free when Elya twisted away from her, found her feet.
Elya leaped over the frekete. He slashed at her, but passed just underneath her-and just above Mena. One of its feet swept so close to the princess that it splattered her face with bits of ripped-up turf. Elya’s wings beat the air as she lifted higher, flying backward, tail slapping about, tauntingly close to the frekete’s grasping claws. From below, Mena watched the Auldek twist around in his harness, looking at her. He yanked back on his reins with his full body weight, trying to turn the frekete back toward her. The cords pulled taut against the frekete’s shoulders, but the creature strained against them. It did not care about following its rider’s commands anymore or about Mena. It wanted Elya. The three of them disappeared over the hillcrest, leaving Mena crumpled on the ground, tangled in her harness rigging.
Mena screamed Elya’s name, both in her mind and with all her voice. She writhed up and out of the harness and kicked free of it. With her good hand, she gripped the bicep of her dangling arm. She inhaled, clenched her teeth, and then pushed the arm back into place. The pain was dizzying. It took several attempts before she felt the ball of her arm bone slip back into its socket. Once it had, she drew the King’s Trust and ran as fast as she could up the slope over which the others had disappeared.
Cresting it, she saw them. Below her in the next depression the frekete fought a snarling duel with Elya. The beast punched and grappled her, landing brutal blows. It was all brawny muscle and weight, sharp claws and bared teeth. Elya writhed with serpentine speed, a hissing tangle of motion. She fought more fiercely than Mena would have thought possible, but she was not made for it, her body too slim and delicate. Her wings hung in useless tatters, her side black with blood. She tried several times to leap away, but the frekete yanked her back down each time.
The Auldek had dismounted to let the beast have its fun. He had started up the rise toward Mena, his sword in hand, but had paused, obviously amused by the fight. He shouted something to the animal. It bellowed in return. It slammed a fist across Elya’s jaw. She reeled away, but it grabbed her and pulled her back. It bit down on the long curve of her neck.
“No!”
Mena rushed down the slope, her sword raised, all pain forgotten. The Auldek snapped around. He moved to intercept her. They crashed together, Mena savage in her attack; the Auldek just as furious in repelling it. They went around, the Auldek moving so that she could not see what the frekete was doing to Elya. This drove Mena into a fury of slashing, hacking, thrusting motion faster than any attack she had managed before. The Auldek backed. Mena wanted him dead. Fast. Now!
When a roar ripped through the air behind her she feared it was the frekete announcing its kill. The Auldek heard it, too. He looked past her and saw something that surprised him. His eyes left Mena only for a moment. That’s all she needed. She hacked his sword hand off at the wrist. As the sword and severed hand dropped, she reached over them and sliced a cut through the Auldek’s face. He survived it only by snapping his head back, turning, and running.
A second roar hit Mena’s back, this one different from the first, higher and more shrill.
Mena wanted to turn, but she also feared to. She ran after the fleeing Auldek as if blasted forward by a third roar, a low bass note that made the ground tremble.
The Auldek stumbled once. Again, that moment was all Mena needed. She was Maeben now, dropping from the sky, nothing but a screech of mindless rage. At full sprint, she brought the King’s Trust up horizontally, her shoulder cocked high. She slammed her foot down on the Auldek’s heel. As his step hitched, she dove forward, driving the sword with all her weight and speed. The point of the blade slipped in at the base of the Auldek’s skull, cut through, and jutted through his face. Mena nearly ran up the man’s back. She kicked off him, yanking the cutting edge up as she did so. His head split in two.
She did not pause to watch him fall. She turned in the air and landed, ready to run back toward Elya. Only then did she see what had so frightened the Auldek.
The sky was alive with dragons.
A brown one hurtled toward the approaching freketes. The other-nearly as blue as the sky behind it-swept around to attack them from the other side. The brown one roared first, and then the blue one did the same.
All the freketes heard them. They pulled up, hesitating, as their eyes took in the shapes approaching them. Mena saw the dragons cut into the airborne freketes, scattering them. That was all she saw, for now there was a third dragon. This one became a searing black arrow that shot straight toward Elya and the frekete that held her limp body. The creature-larger than any frekete, dwarfing Elya, with a massive, big-jawed head that was so crimson it could have been on fire-rode in on that rumbling wave of sound, the greatest of the roars.
The frekete holding Elya tossed her down and leaped into flight. The dragon met the frekete that way. At the last moment, the dragon pulled its head back and tossed its claws forward, grabbing and scratching at the very moment of impact. A man leaped from the monster’s back. Mena had not even noticed the rider. He slid across a slick stretch of wing membrane and then hit the ground in a jarring roll. The two beasts were carried forward by the dragon’s weight and momentum. A writhing ball of wings and tails, teeth and fists, screaming, fighting fury, they disappeared over the hillock.
The man found his feet and spotted Mena. Meeting his gaze, Mena felt her vision blur. She stood swaying, staring, the King’s Trust forgotten in her hand. Her eyes followed the man as he rushed toward her. She heard his feet crunching on the snow. She saw the plumes of vapor when he breathed. She knew his face and recognized the joy and concern written in his features. She knew him. She knew him.
“Mena,” Aliver said, reaching her in time to catch her before she fell from consciousness, “it’s all right. I’m with you.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Nualo was the first to appear, called by Corinn’s reading from The Song. Circling high above the ruined valley of Calfa Ven, she saw the moving tumult of his passage. It began as a disturbance to the east, like a small, dense storm roiling on the horizon and moving at an unnatural speed. She did not know why she knew it was he, except perhaps that his hunger was greater than any of the others’, his evil more pronounced.
“How close do we let them get?” Hanish asked.
Close enough, but not too close.
“That could be hard to measure,” Hanish said. “There’s no ruler for such a thing.”
When Nualo was near enough that Corinn could see his tall, elongated form striding up and down the mountains, she turned Po and headed north. They left behind the devastation of Calfa Ven, but there were signs of the Santoth’s wandering destruction written across the hills and valleys beneath them. In places it looked like giant versions of the worms that had eaten her mouth had chewed up the earth and then vomited it back in twisted, sickening piles of soil and vegetation and rock. Would the Santoth do this to the entire world? Would studying The Song move them away from this rage and hunger for destruction, or would it just make them more horrific versions
