“He promises so much,” Catheline said, moving to join him at the window. Sirus felt her hand slip into his, grasping it tight. “But great works require great sacrifice.”
CHAPTER 28
Clay
The Carnstadt Mountains were less tall than the Coppersoles but somehow more threatening in appearance. They rose in sheer-sided monoliths from a thick blanket of encroaching jungle, flanks shrouded in drifting mist. The company had already spotted their first Black the day before, a youthful female according to Skaggerhill’s experienced opinion. They had dismounted from their final Cerath ride the previous morning and spent the next two days trekking through the increasingly verdant plains north of the mountains. The Black appeared at noon, a dark silhouette in the sky that circled them well out of longrifle range before flying off to the south.
“Guess they know we’re coming,” Clay said, watching the drake fade into the distance.
“Think she’s gonna go tell her folks they got visitors?” Skaggerhill said, a note of humour in his voice that faded when he saw Clay’s expression.
“Yeah,” Clay told him. “That’s exactly what I think she’s gonna do.”
“They’re still animals,” Skaggerhill insisted, a certain stubborn sullenness creasing his brow. “It’s a mistake to imagine they think like us, talk like us.”
“These ain’t the dumb beasts you imagined them to be all these years,” Clay replied. “You gotta know that after everything we seen. And no, they don’t think like us, or talk like us. But they do think.” He turned his gaze to the south once more, the Black now no more than a speck above the mountains cresting the horizon. “And they do talk.”
The plains gave way to sparse forest as they neared the mountains, which soon grew into thick jungle. Clay called a halt with the onset of evening and they settled down to eat a meal of roasted Cerath meat. Whilst the others talked over their options Clay sat in silent contemplation of the map Hilemore had given him.
“Climbing the first mountain we come to seems like the best bet,” his uncle said. “Find us a nesting drake and Miss Kriz can do what she does with the crystal. Females don’t fly when they’re nesting.”
“You think they’ll let us get anywhere near a nest, Captain?” Skaggerhill said. “Nesting female will be sure to have a big mean male close by who’s likely to roast us before we manage to scale more than a few feet. I say we do what we did last time, ’cept we try for a capture ’stead of a kill. Preacher’ll shoot us some game and we leave the carcass out in a clearing. Black’ll come along sooner or later, most likely a young ’un as they’re less wary than the adults, be easier to rope up too since they’re smaller. After that the lady can do her thing and . . .” Skaggerhill shrugged. “I guess we’ll see iffen it works.”
“Worth a try, I guess,” Braddon said after some thought. “Be right tricky, though. Might end up killing any beast we catch, given how they can be . . .”
“No,” Clay interrupted, looking up from his map. “We ain’t doing any of that.”
“Then what d’you suggest, cuz?” Loriabeth asked. “We all just go strolling on in there and wait for one to come say hello?”
“Not all.” Clay scanned them with a steady gaze, making sure they all understood his next words to be sincere and not subject to argument. “Just me and Kriz. The rest of you are gonna skirt the mountains and make for the coast. I’ll trance with the lieutenant along the way to let you know how we’re doing. If I don’t trance for three days straight, head for Stockcombe.”
Loriabeth let out a disparaging laugh, quickly echoed by his uncle. “Clay, if you think I’m gonna let you walk in there on your own . . .”
“They remember!”
Braddon fell silent, his laughter fading as Clay’s shout echoed through the jungle.
“Drakes ain’t like us, like I said,” Clay went on, voice lowered. “One thing that makes ’em different is their memory. It don’t die with them, they carry it. Every Black holds the memory of its parents, and its grandparents, and their grandparents, going all the way back for thousands of years. You’ve been here before so they know your scent and they know what you did. They’ll kill you.”
“I ain’t been here before,” Loriabeth said. “I should come too.”
“You carry your pa’s scent, cuz,” Clay said, shaking his head. “I ain’t risking it.” Braddon began to say something more but Clay cut him off. “It’s settled, Uncle. You made me captain, well, I’m giving orders. You head for the coast.” He turned to Kriz. “We’ll set off in the morning, if you’re willing.”
He detected a slight hesitation before she replied with a nod and a forced smile. “Of course. There was a city here in my time. I’m keen to see if there’s anything left of it.”
They parted the next morning after a brief farewell that saw Loriabeth fighting tears and Braddon make a last and fruitless attempt to persuade Clay to another course of action.
“Course is set, Uncle,” he replied, turning to walk away before pausing for a second to add, “And don’t try tracking after us.”
To be certain, he called a halt after he and Kriz had covered the first few miles and waited, hearing and seeing no sign that they were being followed. “Is it true?” Kriz whispered as they crouched in the undergrowth.
“What?” Clay asked.
“About drake memory. It’s not just something you told them to spare them danger?”
“’Course not.” He turned to her, frowning in realisation. “You didn’t know?”
Her face took on a sheepish grimace. “Clearly we had much left to discover.”
“Seems to me the more I find out about your people, the more dumb they seem. You didn’t know how the crystals work but you used them anyway. You didn’t know what the White was capable of but that didn’t stop you breeding the damn thing. Also, turns out you barely know shit about the animals you spent years studying.”
“All knowledge is . . .”
“Precious and dangerous. Yeah, I remember.” Clay waited for a few moments more and, satisfied they were in fact travelling alone, rose and resumed the southward trek towards the nearest mountain. He stopped when he realised Kriz wasn’t following, turning back to find her standing with her gaze averted, hands fidgeting on the straps of her back.
“What?” he asked her.
“Thousands of years,” she said. “Their memory goes back thousands of years.”
“So?”
“So . . .” She raised her gaze, eyes wary with reluctant admission. “So, they might well remember me. Remember what I did, all those years ago.”
Clay took a step towards her, finding his voice had hardened when he spoke on. “What you did?”
“Experiments.” She closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “Dissections.”
Clay came to a halt and they stared at each other for a time, Kriz forcing herself to meet his eyes, Clay realising the depth of his ignorance about this woman.