“A formal challenge? Him against the both of us?” Scorio scowled. “Sorry, stupid idea. There’s no reason to trust him.”
“We’ll have to attempt a surprise attack once he’s arrived. You can lift me high above the keep and drop me onto one of the guards while you dive at the other. If we can take them out quietly we can slip down into the keep. My Flame Vault power can infest the place with shadows and blades.”
She considered. “Or.”
“Or?”
“We try to kill everyone now. We’ve possibly a day in which to assassinate them all. I doubt they can leave the island, and everyone will be a Flame Vault or lower.”
Scorio stared at her. “Thirty-five Great Souls.”
Naomi moved her head from side to side. “We take out the sentries first, then attack isolated groups… I fill each building with my miasma—don’t worry, I can make it so that it doesn’t affect you—and then we descend from the top and kill everyone inside.”
“You’re serious?”
“They’re Manticore.” She shrugged. “Most of them witnessed what happened two years ago, and the new recruits? Bad choice on their part if they haven’t realized yet whom they’ve decided to follow.”
“All right, but—say we do slaughter thirty-five Great Souls. The moment Dameon arrives with forty more he’ll immediately be on the alert.”
“Yes…” Naomi tapped her lips. “Hmm. And that would make it impossible to get at him. No, all right. Forget the mass assassination plan.”
“Good.” Scorio gave her a look. “What if I planted my rod in the island’s path? In the air where the fortress will pass? It would hold firm and demolish the walls as they swung into it…?”
Naomi frowned, considering.
“How about we get an aerial view of this place next night cycle?” offered Scorio instead. “See if anything else suggests itself? For now we can work our way around to the donjon.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Naomi stretched, reaching for the sky, then grew into her Nightmare Lady form and began crawling along the rock face.
Scorio extruded his wings and stepped out into nothingness. For a second he simply fell, his wings wrapped around his body like a bat, the plummet causing his stomach to rise, his body to feel more alive than ever—then he spread his wings, slowed and spiraled, and rose with great beats to cruise below Naomi, wingtip nearly scratching the rocks.
The day cycle was nearly ending when they judged themselves in place; Scorio latched onto the rock face, and together they climbed, talons and claws dislodging slivers of stone as they climbed up the center of a chimney crack to finally peer up once more at the ancient walls and the great donjon tower that loomed like a brutal fist above them.
They ducked back down and waited. Soon enough the day cycle ended. The darkness thickened. When it grew near absolute Naomi climbed between Scorio’s wings to clutch her arms around his neck as he pushed off the cliff. For a moment they fell together, her grip tightening, and then he fought for altitude.
The darkness grew absolute. They didn’t have long. True midnight lasted for only a brief while. The faint outline of the wall and the huge keep slid past, and then all was black.
Higher and higher Scorio flew, reaching out with his Heart senses. The air shuddered with the faintest of Gold flavor, insufficient to draw on but intoxicating all the same, like biting down into a Dawn Apple. Great banks of Copper swirled about the island like leviathans, and Iron hung low and heavy over the castle itself.
Higher until he was sure he must hover hundreds of yards above the castle.
The darkness began to lighten.
Both Naomi and Scorio studied the castle below. Marked its floorplan, a rough, organic rectangle, its interior bifurcated by ruined walls that divided its grounds into isolated courtyards. The whole of it gradually sloped upward, sections connected by ramps, great blocks from fallen towers, bushes and grass. Tents were pitched in the larger central areas. Cook fires burned bright. People milled.
The donjon’s top was an octagon, no trapdoor but instead a flight of stone steps rising up a side facing the castle’s interior. Light shone through large cracks in its flagstones, and a section of stone had collapsed inwards, revealing the heavy latticework for new rafters. A pile of barrels and wooden debris. The sentry leaned against the parapet gazing outward, a slender woman, tiny below them.
Dawn was coming.
Time to dive.
Scorio turned and descended in a smooth glide which he turned into a dive when they were sufficiently far away; he grinned as the night air rushed past them, felt Naomi holding tight, her cheek against his own, her body lifting off his back, heard her laughter, husky and wild, and they knifed down below the plateau’s level just before the dawn broke.
Chapter 56
Scorio and Naomi awaited Dameon’s arrival in the bowels of the island, resting on the deck of the ship and peering out occasionally to check for the whale ship’s approach.
Four more day cycles passed before they spotted it.
Though the urge was strong to watch its approach, they agreed to remain completely out of sight. They knew where the ship would dock. There was no sense in endangering themselves.
It took two more day cycles for the ship to arrive. It was of medium size, two masted, easily fifty feet in length. The aerite bones were a jaundiced yellow and gleamed as if heavily varnished; the hull itself was matt black, its deep rudder reinforced with bands of iron.
Time slowed to a crawl.
They’d agreed to wait a single day cycle so that Dameon could settle in. They dared not wait longer; Evelyn’s disappearance could have prompted him to activate the teleportation to the Fiery Shoals ahead of schedule.
So they waited in silence upon the deck of their little Sloop, resting, meditating, the air between them tense.
But Scorio realized he wasn’t afraid. He didn’t care that eighty Great Souls were above. That the next night cycle could very well bring his death. For this was exactly where he wanted to be, and nothing more mattered than vengeance.
He knelt, chin lowered, eyes closed, and thought of his dead friends. Leonis’s bluff, honest face, his heart laugh, his love of drink and good cheer. Thought of Lianshi, whip-smart and learned, endlessly inquisitive and deeply caring for them all.
He welcomed the pain, sought it out. Once the memories lit that fire in his heart, he sheltered it, brought it close, allowed it to reawaken his rage.
Dusk fell.
There was no need for further conversation. Together they quit The Sloop’s deck and made their way to the island’s outer edge. There they waited, talons buried in the rock, the golden mana roaring up behind them, watching the fleeting sun descend toward the distant horizon.
Finally, it grew dark.
Naomi climbed onto Scorio’s back, abandoning her Nightmare Lady form. She felt absurdly small and delicate against his huge back muscles, nestled between his wings.
Scorio waited for the darkness to grow just right and pushed off. Fell, snapped open his wings, and began his climb.
Torches were lit along the walls. Great Souls patrolled in pairs, alert and peering about themselves. The midnight moment was only making them more paranoid.
Scorio flew away from the island, curved back around, and rose in spirals, higher and higher into the frigid air.
The land about them lost all features in the thick gloom, became a darker blanket of ebony beneath the deep gray sky.
Lights burned in the donjon’s windows. Shadows passed before them. At the right height, Scorio drew forth his treasure and hovered.
He had to set it just right.
Eyeing the approaching dark mass of the island, he flew to his left, rose a little, then extended the rod.