Artaios’ sword leaped out in a streak of fire.
“Master, no!”
Something jerked Moth backwards. Stumbling, he saw Alisaundra throw herself between them, sprawling before Artaios.
“My lord mustn’t!” she begged. “Remember the Starfinder!”
Artaios kicked her, rolling her over. Miraculously she crawled back to him, stroking his feet. “Great one, don’t kill him. He is the answer!”
Moth couldn’t speak. Deliberate or not, the Redeemer had saved him. He stood up again as Artaios shook Alisaundra off his sandaled foot. The blade glowed furiously in the Skylord’s fist.
“You see this creature?” said Artaios. He spat down at Alisaundra. “Look at her. Look what we can do!”
Moth pitied Alisaundra. He wished she would rise up, just once, and claw Artaios’ arrogant face.
“I see what you can do, Artaios,” said Moth. “You think you’re gods, but you’re not. You’re just bullies.”
Artaios sheathed his flaming sword and stepped over Alisaundra. “Did I not tell you to hold your tongue? To respect my father and this place? Truly, you must wish to die.”
“You’re wrong,” said Moth. “And you’re wrong if you think Merceron is going to give you back the Starfinder. He doesn’t care about me.”
Artaios’ smile was terrible. He kicked at Alisaundra. “Get up,” he growled.
The Redeemer rose, averting her eyes.
“Speak the words,” Artaios commanded.
Alisaundra hesitated. “Dragons live a very long time,” she said. “They never forget their friends or leave them behind.”
“What?” gasped Moth. It was as if the words had been ripped from his brain. But the words weren’t his—they were Merceron’s.
“Your friend Fiona is alive,” said Artaios. “She made it to Pandera.”
“How do you know that?” asked Moth desperately. “How’d you know what Merceron said?”
Artaios sighed as he gestured at Alisaundra. “These things are grotesque but gifted. Alisaundra has been close enough to you to know all your thoughts, Egg. There’s nothing you can hide from her.”
“Fiona…?”
“Sent with you to the centaurs by Merceron. Don’t worry. She lives. For now.”
Moth could barely breathe. “Fiona doesn’t have the Starfinder. All she wants is to get away from her grandfather. If you’re in my head then you know that’s true!”
“Rendor.”
Spoken like a curse, the word came from Korace. The ancient ruler gripped the arms of his throne with withered fingers. His dead eyes fixed hatefully on Moth.
“Rendor seeks the Starfinder,” said Artaios, “but it’s of no use to him. He’s not a child, nor is his granddaughter. You are the only human in all the Realm that can work the Starfinder. And we’ll never allow the Starfinder to cross the Reach again.”
“You mean you’re going to kill them?”
“There’s no escape for them, Egg. They’re already surrounded.”
“But Fiona’s innocent! And Rendor can’t even use the Starfinder! You said so yourself!”
“If he escapes he’ll find another child, one young enough to work the Starfinder. One like you.”
“Artaios, no…”
“You may go wherever you wish in the palace,” said Artaios dismissively, “but Alisaundra will be watching you. If you try to run, she will find you.”
He turned his back on Moth, returning to his father’s side and taking the ruler’s frail hand. A veil of sorrow darkened his face. Korace closed his eyes and whispered to his son. Though Moth couldn’t understand his words, it was obvious Korace wanted to go.
“Come,” said Alisaundra, taking Moth’s arm and leading him away.
“Wait,” Moth protested. “Artaios, don’t you dare harm Fiona, you hear me?”
“Stop!” Alisaundra hissed into his ear.
“Do you hear me, Artaios? If you hurt her, I’ll—”
Alisaundra covered his mouth with her powerful hand. Quickly, she dragged him away.
MORNING PATROL
SKYHIGH SCANNED THE HORIZON as the warm sun of dawn struck the side of his face. He had taken flight less than twenty minutes ago, but already he was many miles away from the safety of the Avatar, streaking southward over hills and forests. He watched with awe as sunlight peeled back the darkness, marveling at the world it uncovered. Since the grounding of the Avatar, Skyhigh had made this same patrol a dozen times. So far, he’d seen a handful of Redeemers and some distant, flashing clouds that looked oddly like horses, but he hadn’t seen a single Skylord yet. They would come soon enough, he supposed, because Rendor was sure of it. But for now, for this one brief morning, they were safe.
Wind buffeted the dragonfly’s glass wings. Skyhigh fought the craft for control. She hadn’t flown the same since her fight with Alisaundra. Though Bottling and his crew had patched her up, she handled more like a donkey cart now than a precision machine. Still, her guns were working and she was airborne, and for that Skyhigh was grateful. In a day or two more the Avatar would be airworthy too, and they could finally get moving again. Skyhigh hoped Rendor would keep his promise and not leave the Reach, but there were men like Donnar onboard who wanted to head home—without Moth and Fiona.
Skyhigh leveled the craft and stretched his vision as far as he could. Twenty minutes south, in daylight hours only. Those were his orders, and as he watched the chronometer on his console tick down the seconds, he prayed he’d see nothing more than a bird up ahead. Once the Skylords came they’d be trapped. And once they were trapped, no one would be in the mood to search for the children. Skyhigh still didn’t know if Rendor wanted Fiona back or just the Starfinder, but it didn’t really matter. If they fled home to Calio, the kids would be doomed.
“Ten… nine… eight… seven…”
Finally the chronometer clicked down to zero. Relieved, Skyhigh banked the dragonfly westward, toward the rising sun.
“Sorry, Skylords,” he sang. “Not today!”
He could report a clear sky, at least for one more patrol. Skyhigh settled back, letting out the breath he’d been holding. He narrowed his eyes against the sunlight, estimated a flight time, and dialed up a new time on the chronometer. In less than an hour he’d be back at camp. He’d breakfast quick, catch a nap while the crew checked and fueled the dragonfly, then head back out for his late morning loop. If things stayed quiet…
A sudden mass eclipsed the sun, heading straight for the dragonfly.
“Holy…!”
Skyhigh jerked back the sticks, shooting the craft upward and back. The engine shrieked in the riptide of air. Up came the thing, racing toward him, the biggest, darkest Redeemer Skyhigh could imagine. He made to turn, but the creature was already on him, beating its gigantic wings as it hovered in midair. Skyhigh’s finger curled around the gun trigger. If he could just draw a bead…
The outline of the thing against the sun seemed wrong somehow. Finally, a great horned head shot fearlessly toward the tiny craft. Through the clouded glass blinked massive yellow eyes. A fanged mouth opened wide, revealing a reptilian tongue.
“Rendor!” roared the creature.
Skyhigh’s hand slipped from the trigger. It wasn’t a Redeemer’s voice that shook his craft, but a dragon’s. Its scaly face filled the canopy, frowning in annoyance at Skyhigh’s silence.
“Are you hard of hearing, human?” it bellowed. “Take me to Rendor!”
THE PROMISE
MERCERON REMOVED HIS PIPE from his coat, sighing as he stuck it between his teeth. He was out of tobacco, out of patience, and grateful just to be on the ground again. Lady Esme rested on his shoulders, slumping in the very same way, both of them exhausted from days of flying.