“You see, Moth?” he said. “Only I can teach you to fly.”
“Artaios…” Moth stepped forward. “What happened?”
“Your beloved Alisaundra did this to me,” he said. His tone was calm but contemptuous. “I gave her wings. I gave her life meaning. She has ruined me.”
Skyhigh went to Moth’s side. “Where is she?” he demanded.
“She couldn’t kill me,” spat Artaios. “I am the Sword of Korace. Even Jorian’s lightning cannot kill me now, human.”
“Artaios, where is she?” Moth asked fearfully. “Did you…?”
“I gave her a chance to serve me! Just as I gave you a chance to fly.” Artaios glared at Skyhigh. “You—did I not tell you to flee? Did I not warn you to take the boy from here, to spare him this?”
Skyhigh reached into his belt and pulled out Rendor’s pistol. Artaios scowled at the threat.
“I wear the armor of Ivokor,” he said. “If you had any learning at all, you would know what that means. There is no way you can harm me.”
Skyhigh aimed the gun right at his chest. “Let’s see about that,” he said, and cocked the hammer.
“I can’t let you leave now,” said Artaios. He moved closer. “I tried to spare you.”
“Not another step!” warned Skyhigh.
“Artaios, go!” cried Moth.
Artaios didn’t flinch. “Do it!” he ordered.
So Skyhigh squeezed the trigger.
Moth jumped back at the noise, then saw Artaios stagger. A look of utter shock came over him as he glanced down at his chest. A small hole in his golden armor started oozing scarlet blood. Artaios blinked as if he’d never seen such a thing before, as if the impossible had happened. He wavered a moment, then buckled to his knees.
“I am shot…”
Skyhigh lowered the pistol as Moth hurried toward Artaios. The Skylord looked up helplessly as Moth put his arms around his shoulders, seeking a way to remove the breastplate.
“Moth, leave him,” said Skyhigh. “We have to get out of here.”
“Get me something to make a bandage,” cried Moth. “Please!”
Artaios fell back against the grass. “Ivokor…”
“It wasn’t magic, Artaios,” Moth explained. He found the latches on the side of the breastplate. “Just a bullet.”
Artaios grimaced, understanding. Skyhigh came to stand over him. He hesitated, then helped Moth remove the armor. They rolled Artaios over to pull it off, then opened the white garment covering his chest, now soaked with blood. Beneath the garment was a perfectly plain bullet hole, just inches beneath the Skylord’s heart.
“Skyhigh, what do we do?”
Skyhigh studied the wound. “Stop the bleeding. Somehow.”
Moth pulled off his shirt, packing the wound with it and pressing down to stem the blood. A shadow settled over them as they knelt beside Artaios. Looking up, they saw a chariot pulled by cloud horses hovering a hundred feet above them. A Skylord leaped from it, sailing quickly toward them. Behind him, others darted down from the sky.
“Uh-oh,” said Skyhigh. “Company.”
Artaios was quickly losing consciousness. Skyhigh stood as the Skylord from the chariot fell like a falcon before them. Moth glanced up, recognizing his eye patch and battle-scarred face.
“Rakuiss. You need to get Artaios out of here,” said Moth. He didn’t bother greeting the Skylord or explaining what had happened. “You have to hurry or he’ll die.”
General Rakuiss looked down in shock at his wounded prince. Skyhigh once more pulled out his pistol.
“I got five more shots just like the one I put in Artaios,” he warned. “Get him out of here and let us go. Otherwise you’ll both be a couple of dead flying chickens.”
The other Skylords dropped from the air. The general held them back. He knelt down over Artaios, stroking his golden hair.
“My prince, can you hear me?”
Artaios opened his glazed eyes, nodding.
“You’re hurt,” said Rakuiss. “The humans. But I’m going to save you. I’m going to get you out of here. You must hold on.”
Artaios lifted his head and saw Moth over him, pressing down on his chest, hands coated in blood. He grabbed Rakuiss’ wrist, and with the little strength he could muster said, “Humans… saved me.”
Rakuiss reared back. “No, my lord. The humans did this to you.”
“No!” railed Artaios. “They go!”
Rakuiss relented, pushing Moth aside. “All right, my lord,” he said. “Yes.”
He scooped Artaios gently into his arms, then winged skyward toward his waiting chariot. Without a word, his fellow Skylords followed.
THE VIEW FROM THE HILL
LADY ESME CARRIED FIONA far from the fighting, setting her down on a hillside overlooking the battlefield. The flight left Fiona breathless as she tumbled into the dandelions, then watched Esme drop soundlessly to the ground. The beautiful Skylord said nothing as she observed the unfolding battle. She sat down among the flowers like a child, wrapping her arms around her knees and her delicate wings around her shoulders. Fiona approached her carefully, wondering why she didn’t speak.
“Esme?”
The Skylord tilted her golden head. Her brilliant eyes flicked toward Fiona, then back to the battle. The strangeness of her unnerved Fiona.
“You know who I am, don’t you?” asked Fiona.
Esme smiled. “You are Fiona.”
“That’s right.” Fiona knelt down beside her in the dandelions and buttercups. “You saved me. You brought the dragons to help us, didn’t you?”
Esme’s gaze tracked upward, toward the dragons burning up the sky. Out on the field, the centaurs had regrouped. Fiona heard the keen of Jorian’s horn, but could not make him out among the throng. The remaining Skylords flew in confused circles, some of them abandoning the fight. Her uncle’s airship pursued them, joining the dragons in the hunt.
“Who are they?” Fiona asked, gesturing toward the dragons. “Are they Merceron’s friends?”
Esme looked unhappy. Frail, too. The garments she wore were haphazard, obviously thrown together just for modesty. But she really was beautiful, and Fiona had no trouble understanding why Leroux had loved her.
“Dreojen?”
Esme pointed toward one of the distant dragons. Fiona smiled. Merceron’s mate was smaller than the others, but still a powerful, magnificent sight. Suddenly she remembered the mask Jorian had drawn on her face.
“Esme, you have to take me back,” she said. “I can’t stay here. I belong with the others.”
Esme grimaced as she watched her fellow Skylords tumbling from the sky. “You will stay here,” she said. “Safe.”
Fiona couldn’t understand. “Hey, you brought them here,” she said. “What did you think would happen? You should be down there fighting with the dragons. We both should.”
“I am a Skylord,” said Esme. “I could never harm another.”
“After what they did to you? Huh. I’d be glad to fight them if they did that to me.”
Esme had no answer for her, or if she did she didn’t speak it. For Esme, speaking came with effort. Fiona supposed it was from being a bird for so long.
“Okay,” said Fiona, standing. “You can sit here and watch if you want, but I have to go.”
Esme reached up and seized her hand. “No.”
Fiona pulled free. “Esme, I have to! I promised I’d fight with them. I can’t just run away.”
“The battle is done,” said Esme. “You will stay here. Stay safe.” Her eyes fixed on Fiona, determined. “I will protect you.”
With a sigh Fiona collapsed back into the flowers. If she tried to flee, she was sure Esme would just scoop her up again.