Chapter 26

Ke-cha-yat, Neron

The cha'asii lived in the trees—huge, gnarled trees that rose a hundred feet and more above the jungle's fern-carpeted floor. Up there, among the broad, green leaves and dangling, golden blossoms, the elves had built platforms from wind-fallen wood, webbed with bridges of woven reeds, all of it camouflaged to be invisible from below. Hult and the others didn't even know they had arrived at the village of Ke-cha-yat until a vine ladder dropped down from the boughs above, and the cha'asii began to climb.

None of the elves had said a word since they left the coast, some three hours ago. Night had fallen hard: even with the moons out, the Emerald Sea of Neron was a dark place, lit only by occasional shafts of silver and crimson through the foliage. The cha'asii carried lamps to light their way, globes of milky crystal in which glowing moths fluttered, battering against the insides as they fought vainly to escape. The moths gave off an eerie blue radiance that drained the color from people's faces, making everyone look like ghosts. That, and the elves' utter silence—no twigs broke beneath their feet, no branches rustled as they passed—gave Hult the feeling that he had left the mortal world.

He climbed after the cha'asii, going up easily, rung by rung. Shedara came behind, then Forlo, still weak from his near-drowning but stubbornly pushing on, keeping pace. Hult looked down past the man, half expecting to see Eldako, but of course the merkitsa wasn't there. It was strange to think he was gone. It had been too sudden. Hult felt the claw he'd taken from Gloomwing, now hanging on the same cord as the jade amulet, and said a prayer for the wild elf's spirit. It was a sacrilege—according to the Uigan elders, elves were devils, with no souls to voyage on to Jijin's hunting halls—but he didn't care. Eldako had been a friend, and no god who refused a prayer for a friend was worth worshiping.

The climb was long and tiring. He was breathing hard when he reached the top. Ke-cha-yat was a large village, its huts woven from fronds and grass, lashed to the platforms and reinforced with more deadwood. Moth lamps hung from creepers above the walkways, looping from tree to tree. But something wasn't right here—nearly half the huts were dark, their lamps snuffed out, their ceilings bowed inward, reinforcing sticks poking out like bones. Something had emptied the village. Hult's people had been raiders, and he knew the signs. Ke-cha-yat looked like a Kazar encampment after the Uigan had ridden through.

The akitu-shai had been busy, it seemed—but it hadn't been a completely one-sided war. Severed heads stood impaled on stakes in front of many of the remaining huts: they were brown and withered, their eyes sewn shut, and they definitely weren't human. The shapes were wrong, too bulbous, and there was no sign of hair, noses or ears. Tentacles, dried to leather by whatever preserving rituals the elves employed, hung from where the creatures' mouths should be. These were the Crawling Maws, then, ones the cha'asii had managed to slay.

Now the last of the party were coming up the ladder, and with them they brought their latest trophy. Hauling on cords of jute, they dragged up the dragon's head, laying it upon the wooden platform. Gloomwing had seemed majestic in life, but now, his face pierced by arrows and spears, one of his eyes burst, the wyrm looked pathetic. Still, Hult couldn't go so far as to feel sorry for the beast—not when it had led them on such a long chase and taken Eldako from them at the end.

Word spread through the village of what the party had brought back. Huts emptied, small, nearly naked figures climbing down from higher platforms, scurrying across the bridges, swinging over chasms on vines. They stared at Hult, Forlo, and Shedara with wide eyes, and some clenched their fists and bared their teeth in what looked like warding gestures. They were all armed, every single adult—whether it was a spear, a hatchet, or a long, obsidian knife.

There were bows and blowguns as well, and after what had happened to Gloomwing, Hult and the others kept their hands away from their weapons, just in case. Within moments, almost two hundred elves had gathered around them and the dragon's head. They made no sound, only stared with wondering eyes at these giants in their midst. Even Hult, who was the shortest of the three, towered over the cha'asii by more than a head. It was like being surrounded by tiny spirits.

At the rear of the crowd, movement caught his eye. Someone was moving through the mass, elves parting to let her pass, their eyes cast downward. It was the oldest elf he had ever seen, the only one he had ever beheld who actually showed true age. She was even tinier than her kin, stooped and withered, wrinkled skin hanging loose on her bones. She moved haltingly, hobbling with every step, her joints so stiff she could barely move. A fan-shaped crest of waving feathers—all of them pure white—loomed above her head, and a cloak of the same covered her shoulders. Her face was lined with age and dusted pale with chalk. Her eyes were clear, icy blue—the only part of her that didn't look ancient. Veiled elf maids flanked her, holding her elbows to keep her upright as she tottered up to Hult.

"I am Yu-shan," she said in a voice like the croak of a raven. "Grandmother to our people. I speak for them."

Nalaran's amulet pulsed against Hult's breast. He nodded, then bowed. Behind him, Shedara and Forlo followed suit. "I am honored, Grandmother. Among my people, the elder-women are revered. It is good to see the cha'asii are as civilized."

Yu-shan smiled. Unlike the crones of the Uigan, she still had all her teeth. The crinkles in her face deepened even more.

"A flatterer, this one!" she said to one of her handmaidens. "You be careful when he is near, child. We do not want any man-children being born."

The handmaiden flushed behind her veil, lowering her gaze. Hult felt his own face redden.

"You may trust me, wise one," he said. "I took an oath to remain chaste."

"What a waste," the Grandmother said, looking him up and down. "You would have many strong sons, I ken. But no matter. Important things have happened, I hear. The black wyrm is slain, and you have come. Yes, it is as was foretold."

Hult shivered, thinking of the makau of the Ice People and his spirit-wolves. "You knew we were coming as well?"

The old elf nodded. "Grandmother knows all," she replied. "Grandmother sees all. Your coming was prophesied, long ago. Well before you were born, or any of your friends. The leaves whispered of your coming—two men-folk and two of our kind, with the head of a dragon as tribute. You are to save our people from the akitu-shai… only… ." She stopped, peering at the others. Her brow furrowed. "Where is the fourth? The second of our kin?"

Hult felt a spasm of grief. "He is lost, Grandmother. Eldako fell to the dragon."

Yu-shan stared at him, fear widening her eyes. "No," she said. "It is not possible. The spirits spoke of four, not three! Three is an ill number. The fourth must come—without him, we cannot prevail."

"Eldako is dead, wise one," Hult insisted.

"And the body? You saw his corpse?"

He frowned. "Well… no, but… ."

"Ah!" Yu-shan grinned, her eyes lighting. She snapped her fingers. "You should not have left him, if he fared so badly that you thought him slain. Bad luck, bad luck. Now it falls to me. I must find him. We must, together. Come."

She turned and, her handmaidens guiding her, hobbled quickly away. Hult took a step to follow, bewildered by what the ancient elf had said, but Shedara caught his arm, stopping him. He turned, staring at her, then saw the confusion on her face. He and Yu-shan had been speaking the cha'asii tongue. The others had understood only one word they'd spoken: Eldako's name.

"What's going on?" Shedara whispered.

He told her. She slapped him, then turned on Forlo.

"You made me leave!" she shouted at them both. "You told me there was no hope. Now we're told he's alive?"

Hult looked away, his cheek burning where she'd hit him. Forlo shook his head.

"How were we to know?" he asked. "You saw what happened to him, Shedara. How could he survive that?"

She glared at him, then turned and walked away, following the Grandmother and her attendants. The cha'asii parted to let her pass. Hult stayed behind a moment with Forlo. They traded glances, sharing the same thought: how could Eldako still be alive? And if he lived, what was left of him? Wouldn't death be better?

Shaking his head, Forlo walked after Shedara. Hult went last of all, his thoughts as dark as the jungle below.

The Grandmother's hut was higher than the rest of the village, rising up among the topmost branches of the trees, dappled with moonlight that broke through the leaves. Many dried heads surrounded it, both Crawling Maws and other monsters Hult didn't recognize: a great cat with a third eye in the middle of its forehead, a snake with curling horns, and something that looked to be equal parts ogre and bat. Gloomwing's head would soon join the others, a crowning trophy among Yu-shan's collection, the enemies of the cha'asii brought low.

The hut itself was long and low, the near end covered by a blanket of grasses that served as a door. Branches of twisted wood stuck out of the top like spines. Its sides crawled with the glowing moths that lit the rest of Ke-cha-yat—free, not trapped in crystal globes, their cold shimmer making a mosaic that illuminated the platform as bright as day. The glow rippled as Hult watched, the moths spreading their wings to flit from one point to another.

The platform was a circle some twenty paces across, with no rail around its edges; glancing over the side, Hult felt overcome by dizziness. They were so high, he couldn't see the ground: just fluttering leaves and bridges and huts, down and down into shadow. It felt as if, if he fell over, he would plunge forever through the moth-lit trees. Catching his breath, he stepped back, turning toward the hut.

The Grandmother stood alone, quietly watching them. As Hult watched, moths rose from the walls and alighted on her headdress and cloak. Their light made her seem swathed in stars. She gazed at him with her pale eyes, then at Forlo and Shedara, beckoning them closer. As she did, Hult noticed something he hadn't seen before—a bowl-shaped depression in the platform's midst, perhaps two paces across and lined with multicolored seashells. Yu-shan hobbled to its edge and held her hand over the bowl. She spoke a word, and the familiar shimmer of magic poured down. When it was done, the bowl was filled to the brim with clear water. Hult and the others drew near, surrounding the pool.

"There's no reflection," Forlo said, peering in.

"It's for scrying," Shedara explained. "The Voice had something like this, in my homeland." She looked over at the old elf. "This is to search for Eldako."

The Grandmother eased herself down to sit by the pool's edge, waving Forlo and Hult away when they stepped forward to help her. She smiled at them, then gestured to the pool's edge.

"Sit," she said. "I will need your memories of him to know exactly what it is I seek. Do you have a token of his? Something he carried, that you took when you thought him dead?"

Shedara and Forlo looked at Hult, not understanding. He translated, and Shedara nodded, unslinging Eldako's bow from her back. She had refused to leave it by the seaside, and now she held it out to the Grandmother, its wood gleaming in the light of moths and moons.

Yu-shan shook her head. "I cannot accept this," she said. "It is a weapon of great power. The spell will unbind its magic, destroy it. Have you nothing else?"

Hult repeated her words. Shedara shook her head and offered the bow again. "It is all there is," she said. "He will understand."

Regretfully, the Grandmother accepted the bow. She ran her hands over its curves, whispering to it as if apologizing. Then, with a wistful sigh, she laid it on the water. The bow floated out, drifting into the pool's midst.

"Sit," she said again. "We will begin."

They did as she bade and shut their eyes, each remembering Eldako as Yu-shan began to chant. Hult thought of the first time he'd met the merkitsa, deep in the Dreaming Green. He remembered how Eldako had killed Hoch and Sugai, the rebellious lords who had sought to usurp Chovuk on the eve of battle—shooting them from a distance Hult still couldn't credit, his arrows seeming to descend from the heavens. He thought of the wild elf rescuing them at Coldhope and again in Kristophan… of his solemn face as the Wyrm-namer died, and the song of his bowstring at Starshimmer Lake. Last, he saw him standing on the shore, his arrows spent, waiting without fear as Gloomwing skimmed toward him over the waves.

Sorcery surged around him, blasting him from all sides like a whirlwind. There was a flash of light, and he opened his eyes to see white flames leap from the surface of the pool—flames filled with faces, appearing and disappearing too quickly to recognize. The bow caught fire and vanished amid the inferno. Across the burning water, the Grandmother's head snapped in his direction, her eyes rolling back in her head. She pointed a finger and spoke in a shrill, brittle wail.

"Hold to your thoughts! Remember him! Remember, or the spell will fail!"

Terrified, Hult shut his eyes again, summoning the memories where he'd left them. He watched Eldako lower his bow, let it drop into the sand. Drawing his blade, the merkitsa walked forward into the water. Waves lapped around his shins, foaming. His eyes never left the black dragon, shrieking in like death itself, his mouth gaping wide, filled with glistening fangs. Acid boiled up the monster's throat.

"No," Hult groaned as he found himself running forward. This confused him for a moment: he hadn't done this before. He had stayed with Forlo, back where beach met jungle. Now, though, his feet flew across the sand as he hurried to help his friend.

The spell had taken hold. He felt its claws sinking into him, burrowing in his mind as the Grandmother searched his memories. He fought the urge to resist, letting the magic work its way deeper and deeper as he sprinted to Eldako's side.

"Get out!" he cried as the dragon came soaring closer. "Get away from here!"

The wild elf didn't notice him. His gaze was fast on Gloomwing, so close now Hult could count the dragon's teeth. Hult grabbed for Eldako, but his hands didn't reach him. The spell could not change what had happened; it only let him see things better, closer. He wondered, briefly, if that was so good an idea—then the dragon made the terrible, vomiting roar he recalled, and he looked up in time to see sizzling green slime fly through the air and splatter the merkitsa.

"Eldako!" he shouted. He heard Shedara cry out as well. Only Forlo, who hadn't beheld this moment, and so had no memory of it, remained silent.

An awful smell hit him then, and Hult knew it came from the wild elf. The acid ate through Eldako's beetle-shell breastplate, burned away his tunic, seared his flesh. Greasy, yellow fumes rose from him. Eldako opened his mouth to cry out but could only make a retching sound—then leaped forward, hurling himself into the water and vanishing from sight.

Leaped. Did not fall.

Wracked with despair. Hult dove after him. Every instinct told him this was suicide—he was no swimmer—but the magic compelled him. Panic whitened his mind as he plunged into the surf; when it cleared again he was under water, following Eldako as the tide dragged him away. The acid had stopped eating the elf, but Hult caught glimpses of the damage it had done—armor and clothing in tatters, skin bubbled and blackened, hair scorched away—as the merkitsa tumbled over and over, helpless, unconscious. Above the water, the wyrm's shadow passed overhead, and he heard a muted roar—Gloomwing's cry as the cha'asii loosed their deadly volley. A few moments later came the crash as the dying dragon plowed into the forest.

Then, all was quiet. Eldako's body kept drifting, pulled by current and tide. Hult glided after, more flying than swimming, no longer troubled by thoughts of drowning. He felt the Grandmother's mind touching his, driving him on. He wondered if she was doing the same with Shedara, or even Forlo. She probably was. If it came to it, he could break the spell simply by opening his eyes.

Minute after minute crept by. The water darkened as twilight settled into night. Still Eldako drifted, limp as a dead man, the current bearing him along. Finally, ahead, something loomed close—something large and solid. Hult pulled up and burst through the surface of the water to see craggy coastline—the same rocks Shedara had wanted to search when he and Forlo had convinced her to stop. Shame burned in his heart as he watched the wild elf's charred body break the surface and slam against the rocks. He groped impotently toward his friend as a wave pinned him against the stones—wanted to help him but couldn't. What he was watching was already done, though no one had been around to see it until now.

The wave receded, leaving Eldako bobbing in the shallows. A moment later, however, another swell came in, larger than the last. This time it broke over the rocks, pushing the merkitsa with it. Hult lost sight of what was happening and searched frantically as the foaming breaker drained away—and finally saw his friend, sprawled at the edge of a tidal pool, surrounded by starfish and urchins.

Then he saw the miracle: Eldako stirred, gave a great, wracking cough, and vomited sea water onto the stones. When he was done, he lay groaning, huddled in a heap until another wave broke over the rocks and shoved him deeper into shore, smacking and bumping against the stones. He clung to the rocks, whimpering in pain as the surge tried to pull him hack out to sea.

It was too dark to see just what the acid had done to him. For that, Hult was thankful. He didn't sound right, though—his breathing had a reedy wheeze. Eldako lay gasping, groaning—then gathered enough strength to crawl, scraping his way over the rocks, away from the pounding surf. When he finally collapsed again, he'd made it almost to the trees. The waves kept bursting against the stones behind him.

He lay there a long time, face-down in the dark. Hult felt hours pass. The stars wheeled across the night sky; clouds formed and tore apart; the moons glided westward. Eldako remained still, near death or sleeping.

Then, finally, something happened. Midnight had come and gone, though dawn was still hours away. There was movement in the blackness, but it wasn't Eldako; three shadowy figures slipped out of the trees. Hult moved toward them to get a better look and felt horror crawl over his skin. The creatures were man-shaped, clad in pale robes, with slimy skin like the flesh of something that had crawled up from the bottom of the sea. One was pale violet, another bilious green, and the third the yellow-gray of disease. Their heads he recognized, for he had seen them already, dark and shriveled on stakes all over Ke-cha-yat. Alive they were even more horrible, their eyes white and empty, their mouth-tentacles writhing as though they had minds of their own.

The Crawling Maws had come.

The akitu-shai hesitated, looking at one another, and Hult had the sense of silent conversation, unspoken thoughts buzzing through the air. A conclusion reached, they strode forward, moving among the rocks toward Eldako. Spindly, alien hands reached out, clutching for the merkitsa… then stopped, the creatures straightening and glancing at one another in wordless communion. Then, to Hult's amazement, they turned and looked straight at him.

LEAVE! shouted three voices in his mind, so loud he cried out, and opened his eyes.

The spell broke. The flames that covered the pool flickered out, leaving no sign of Eldako's bow—not even ashes. Hult held still, trembling at the memory of the Maws. Forlo sat across the pool from him, pale and confused; he hadn't shared the vision. Shedara had, though, and she bowed her head, her shoulders shaking. Tears shone on her cheeks.

"So it is," said the Grandmother. "The akitu-shai have him. We must get him back, if you are to succeed at your task."

Hult rose. "I will go. It is partly my fault that they have him."

Yu-shan nodded.

Hult explained things to the others, and Forlo offered to help as well. Shedara remained quiet, staring into the emptiness of the pool as the water vanished from within.

"And you, girl?" asked the Grandmother. "What will you do?"

Shedara looked up, her face creased with anguish. Her eyes were fierce, though—so much so it was Yu-shan who glanced away, flushing beneath her stare.