She could no longer even squirm or kick. The shadows took on the shapes of wolves and gliding vipers, beating wings like a flock of bats about her captured body.
Something cold and hard met the palm of her right hand. Her fingers were shoved tight about it. A blue glow infused the air and the shadows dispersed in a fog of hissing and rustling half-shapes. Dahrima lay gasping and bleeding on the raw earth while the shadows converged nearby.
A high, moaning sound filled her ears. The sound of a man screaming.
She raised her fist and saw the object Pyrus had forced into her grasp. The blue stone worn about his neck. The Sky God’s amulet. His only protection from the bloodshadows. She’d had none, and he had tried to warn her of this fact. Now the talisman’s potency was proven.
Dahrima struggled to her knees. Pyrus lay beneath the feasting shadows, who no longer could touch her. His arms and legs twitched. He no longer screamed. The sound of crunching bones came next.
She crawled toward the mass of shadows, waving the blue stone amid the darkness. The blood drinkers flew into the night on leathery wings, taking with them the Last King of Shar Dni. Drops of red blood marked his passing. They fell like raindrops across the bed of moss.
“Pyrus!” She called after him, but her voice was only a parched croak.
Dahrima clutched the Sky God’s stone and took up her great axe. Yet there was no foe left to fight, no enemy’s skull to split. The man who had saved her life was gone, and she could do nothing to avenge him. There was no further sign of bloodshadows.
She tied the amulet about her neck and walked to the shore to wash her wounds. The cold saltwater stung her broken skin and revived her senses. No one was there to witness her shed tears for the noble madman, so she let them flow.
She sat on the beach until dawn, axe balanced on her knees, and watched the red horizon for signs of flesh-and-bone enemies.
Many Kings had died in this cursed valley.
Pyrus would not be the last.
8
The Whelming
For two days the islands of Ongthaia had known only wind, rain, and thunder. Great waves came barreling off the Outer Ocean, shattering the small boats of fishermen into kindling. Most of the foreign traders had departed for the mainland when King Zharua made his proclamation of war. His own fleet of merchant vessels had been quickly outfitted to join the Mumbazan, Yaskathan, and Khyrein warships. On the eastern horizon the clouds swirled black as night, and bolts of purple lightning flared ceaselessly.
Khama’s willpower kept the worst effects of the storms from the islands. Yet every hurricane and typhoon he hurled across the ocean toward the Dreadnoughts of Zyung left a trace of itself behind, driving the hapless folk of the Jade Isles indoors. The populations of several lesser towns had braved the choppy waters to gain sanctuary behind the double wall of Morovanga City, but thousands remained on the twelve lesser isles. They found shelter as best they could in stone huts or hillside caves. The capital’s walls would provide some security for Zharua’s people, should the majority of Zyung’s ships make it through the barrage of storms.
The Feathered Serpent coiled himself atop the volcano overlooking the Jade King’s city. Khama stared deep into the raging tempests, searching for any signal of Zyung’s approach. It was too much to hope his hurricanes would destroy all of the great sky-ships, or even half of the invasion force. Yet every single dreadnought that fell to his storm magic would remove a thousand Manslayers, as well as a few of the flying Trills, and maybe even a sorcerer or two.
In Zharua’s war room two days ago Khama had sat with Undutu, D’zan, and a company of sea captains and generals. The Jade King himself presided over the strategy session, although he mainly listened to the advice of those who were skilled at war-craft, then passed orders to his own shipmasters. Zharua had pledged his vast fortune and every merchant vessel to the defense of the islands. Thousands of men worked on refitting the Ongthaian ships while their rulers met to discuss tactics. This would be the greatest conflict the Jade Isles had ever known. In fact, the greatest marine battle in all the history of the world. Khama had let Undutu speak for him at the council; the Son of the Feathered Serpent had a gift for inspiring Men to courageous deeds.
On the second day after the ousting of Zyung’s envoy, the defending ships began to position themselves east of the island chain. With the addition of a hundred Jade Isle traders, the fleet now stood a thousand ships strong. Of course, each ship carried one-fifth the number of warriors as the colossal dreadnoughts, and no sorcerers among them. Beyond these grim facts, the ship-to-ship ratio still weighed three-to-one in Zyung’s favor. Khama hurled more deadly storms across the sea, hoping to even those numbers.