1633880583 (F) (69 page)

“At last,” said Inga. The troll-changeling’s arm had regrown, her lungs were more than strong enough for the altitude, and with her friend Malin back she seemed ready for any challenge. Even her perplexing double Alfhild, carrying word of Inga’s parentage, only spurred her on.

Haboob said, “Secure yourselves. We will descend. Silence now.”

They plunged through darkness. Joy’s hair flowed up and became a cloud around her. Her stomach wanted to depart her body, as an eerie whistling sound surrounded them.

At last Haboob’s eyes flashed, and their descent slowed.

She untied herself, crossed to Walking Stick, and touched the Scroll of Years.

Suddenly she seemed to drift above the daylit, spindly mountain of the monastery.

“It is time!” she shouted. “Let the noble champions of the archery competition come forth! Let all the resistance stand ready! This snowy day is Midsummer. In years to come, all who survive this battle will look forward to the day, and roll up their sleeves, and say, ‘Behold, the scars I earned on Midsummer’s Day, the day we broke the Fimbulwinter!’”

A roar went up from the mountain.

Joy’s senses returned to the darkened world. She put a finger to her lips, as one archer after another appeared beside Walking Stick, until the gondola was crowded with ten. Joy nodded to Haboob.

The efrit spread a smoky hand, and magical embers appeared in dozens of spots around the dark land beneath, hovering like fireflies.

The archers fired.

Karvak guards, awake or asleep, died in droves.

The Swanlings among the archers made the sign of their goddess, for the act of killing helpless men.

Whenever the efrit discerned a man had died, he snuffed that light. Wherever a man yet lived, the ember flickered. Not a single foe escaped.

Inga leapt over the side with rope and stake and secured
Guraab
to the battlefield.

Now Walking Stick leapt out, and there emerged from the scroll three members of royalty, Corinna, Alfhild, and Steelfox. Next came guards for Joy—Snow Pine, Liron Flint, and Yngvarr Thrall-Taker. Inga joined them. Then came seven Runewalkers, half of all available, among them Peik and their newest member, Malin.

Malin hugged Inga. “This may be The End,” she whispered.

“Don’t think like that,” Inga replied. “We will both make it. We’ll fill our book of stories and greet the summer.”

“Come on,” Peik hissed. “We’ve runes to walk.”

“Good luck,” Joy told the Runewalkers.

Walking Stick paced out the battle formation, sowing warriors like seeds with the scroll. He would be at the task for a long time. He had six thousand soldiers to guard the rocky promontory where it descended to the mainland of Svardmark.

Now Inga let out the balloon’s rope so the archers might rise to fifty feet. Haboob, fires dimmed, kept watch. As his hydrogen required no heating of the air (indeed, fire would be quite unwise)
Guraab
could stay hidden.

Joy turned away. Where the Great Chain wrapped around the promontory’s lip was a narrow spit called the Giant’s Tongue. She stepped onto that extrusion, an icy wind whistling around her. She could not begin until the army was in position.

She waited.

In the first hint of gray light, with the white tops of distant mountains illuminated but the world still dark, a wreath of fog and howling winds rose up to surround their position, though all within was clear.

Walking Stick stepped beside her. “As you see, the Runewalkers shield us. All is ready.”

Joy approached the nearest of the huge metal links.

She touched a rune,
wunjo
, which could mean “joy.” Why not?

Crimson energies leapt from the Chain, like a wildfire spreading across shapes of ice. A cold flame of blue rose in response. The cold was not just visible to her eyes; she could feel it within her skin, a slowing, freezing compulsion laid upon the Chain and the land.

Her power flowed down the links leading to the small island, still shrouded in darkness, that was the Chain’s midpoint. From there it rushed up the far side and touched Spydbanen.

And not just Spydbanen. The vast dragon whose body had been the beginning of that land stirred, just as beneath her a sleeping dragon trembled within Svardmark. There was a hint of a third dragon-presence, older, more deeply asleep, beneath the island in the strait.

Everywhere the red-orange fire of her power spread, the blue fire was there to resist it.

She realized now the challenge was less wrenching the Chain from the compulsion Innocence had laid upon it, and more not awakening the dragons. They must retain a spirit of Unbeing.

Her perceptions were everywhere around the straits. And now she knew Innocence was down on that island, stirring. He was not alone but in the company of Jewelwolf, the troll-jarl, and the magic carpet.

Her army awaited the counterattack bravely, filling the narrow space of the promontory. A thousand hand-to-hand fighters stood shoulder to shoulder and four lines deep. Five thousand archers, armed with yew longbows in the Swanisle style, stood behind these fighters and in wings to either side, the abyss at their backs.

Now the Karvaks came.

Their balloons arrived first, but the cold winds shaped by the Runewalkers repelled them.

Next came ships—but they were over a thousand feet below. The Three Wolves’ fleet, supplemented by the Gull-Jarl’s, would have to find a landing and send men up the paths.

Third came a small group of Karvak scouts from the garrison at Lysefoss. They were fast, but by the time they arrived the sun was well up, and Joy, struggling with the Chain, could see everything down in the strait. As the scouts’ horses reared, Walking Stick bid the archers wait. By now their position was known, but not necessarily the reach of the longbows. Best not to make the truth obvious.

The outnumbered Karvaks sped back to the garrison. More would be coming. Many more.

Now, near Joy, Princess Corinna ordered flags raised. This unleashed a hundred volunteers, berserkers all. They were to march downslope, guarding the sea approaches to the promontory and causing as much destruction as possible. Joy’s heart ached for these men, for most were heading out to die. Guarding the approach was only their secondary purpose. Their primary role was to convince the enemy that Joy’s force was an undisciplined rabble, as Walking Stick’s rumormongers had told the tale for months.

They meant to lure the enemy into a killing zone.

A wave of cold hit Joy’s mind. Innocence was fighting her actively now for the Chain.

She kindled her anger and flung it back at him.

Red-gold and silver-blue energies contended all along the links.

Joy. Stop this.
The voice was bleak and tormented. Innocence.

She answered with a fresh blaze of power. There was a tremor underfoot.

Joy. This will wake the dragons.

She kept fighting. She was the fighting daughter of a fighting mother. She would never give in.

Joy, listen. I’m trying to help these people.

She felt a sob beginning inside her and willed it to become fire.

Who are you trying to help?
she demanded.
Jewelwolf? The beautiful conqueror? Or Skrymir? Poor misunderstood killer?

You don’t see them as I do. They took me in when I was lost, after nearly killing everyone at the island. No one is really a villain when you see them close up. Those two are broken inside. When Jewelwolf gets the victory she needs, she will change. When Skrymir is at last able to feel himself an independent being, he will stop being cruel. We need to help them reach their destinies. Then they will become better beings.

O, my friend Innocence! You are so well named! These entities loom so large in your sight you can see nothing else! You choose to ignore how they trample thousands of other beings—each one equally worthy of your concern! But because they lack power these victims don’t snare your imagination.

Never mind. You can’t win. But we can both lose, if the dragons wake. That will mean death to us. And to everyone else. Your mother. My father.

What?

Imago Bone is here, on the island. Jewelwolf brought him upon Deadfall. She threatened war with Kpalamaa if the mariners didn’t give him up. My mother is probably as dead as your father, Joy. So you see, we are in the same longship today. Do you not care?

Where before she’d fed raw anger into the Chain, now something changed. It was not a burst of fury but a sudden clarity of purpose.

Through her power, she sensed the main Karvak force from Lysefoss on its way. She perceived the little figures of Innocence, Bone, Jewelwolf, Deadfall down on the craggy island. She could indeed have a degree of pity for them all.

But she did not just see Bone down there; she saw bones. Bones of people lost at sea. Bones of people slain in combat. Bones of people who’d simply had mishaps in this treacherous landscape.

There was a past, and a future, and yes, in the present it all hinged on her and Innocence. And yet in a way it wasn’t about them at all.

I care. Oh, my friend, I care. But I care about many other things too. I wish you were on my side, Innocence. I need you, in the time of my greatest fight. But you have chosen what is glittering and mighty over what is plain and loving. I am so sad for us, and for you. But I will fight on, for all the other people I love, and for the land that chose me. If the Kantenings survive I will urge them to abandon slavery and cruelty. If they do not survive they will join the bones of their ancestors, as is the fate of all flesh. But either way, they will not be enslaved, not by each other, certainly not by you.

There had been a hint of passion in him, but now the cold was back. His voice was nearly a monotone.
You cannot understand. They were right. You are too bound by Qiangguo’s ideas of honor. I play the game of life at a higher level.

Shut up and fight.

Her renewed conviction coiled down the Chain as weaving fire. She pushed Innocence’s line of silver-blue back to the central island and beyond. She sensed his surprise. He gathered strength and shoved back.

But she realized something: she was better at this. Against an equally powerful foe she’d have won. But he also hadn’t been lying about her chances. The Heavenwalls gave him greater strength. He didn’t need her skill.

Qiangguo’s bastion of mystical power slowly ground down Kantenjord’s.

But she wasn’t done yet.

“A-Girl-Is-A-Joy,” came a voice, and then another: “Joy!”

She kept struggling with Innocence but allowed her attention to return to her body. Beside her stood Snow Pine, Flint, Steelfox, Corinna, Alfhild, Yngvarr, Inga—even Malin, resting after her Runewalking. So many personalities, so many energies.

“I’m here,” she said.

“What can we do, Joy?” her mother said.

“Is there . . . a way to distract them? Down on that island . . .”

Steelfox said, “The winds will foil arrows or rockets. If we send our balloon, my people’s balloons will swarm it.”

“What of the balloon’s explosive gases?” Alfhild asked.

Joy said, “Walking Stick . . . wanted to hold that in reserve . . .”

“Everything depends on the Chain,” Corinna said.

“She’s right,” Snow Pine said. “If Flint and I get aboard that thing, we can just lower it into the straits until Haboob’s ready to light.”

“Yes,” Flint said, “and we jump into the water at the last second. All should go swimmingly.”

“Take me with you,” said Yngvarr. “You may need a warrior.”

“Flint and I are warriors,” Snow Pine objected.

“But you’re most welcome to come,” Flint added quickly.

Joy said, “Mother . . . too risky . . .”

“No,” Snow Pine said, “everything now is too risky, my brave girl. I am here to help you.”

Corinna said, “I have the authority to release that balloon, and so I will. But Malin should go also. You need a Runewalker.”

“No,” said Malin. “I will find Peik. He is better rested.”

“Very well,” said Corinna.

Joy knew there was no stopping Snow Pine when she was set upon a goal. “Mother . . .” Joy said. “Be careful.”

Snow Pine put her hand upon Joy’s head. “You make me proud.” She, Flint, and Yngvarr were gone without another word.

Joy hoped their mission would help, but she still needed a distraction now. “Is there anything else? Give me something else. . . .”

Steelfox held up a burnt, reddened hand. “While you’ve been talking, I’ve tested the energies of the Chain. . . .”

“Because she’s a
lunatic
,” Inga put in.

“. . . And they cause intense pain. I don’t think anyone is going to climb down it.”

Joy said, “I didn’t . . . ask anyone to!”

“I’m not just anyone,” Inga mused. “I can handle a lot of hurt. And I can carry one person.”

“I’ll come with you,” Malin said, returning from her search for Peik. “I can do something.”

“You’ll get killed,” Inga said.

“You’ll get killed,” Malin replied.

“It has to be me,” said Steelfox. “In all modesty, I am the best archer in five thousand miles. And you’ve been muttering, Joy. I heard you say my sister’s name. She’s down there, is she not? We have business.”

Corinna said, “Steelfox is right. But the risks are great.”

Inga and Steelfox looked at each other and nodded.

Malin walked away. Joy hurt for her.

“Go,” Joy said to Inga and Steelfox, adding, “Imago Bone is down there too. Try not to shoot him. He may be of help.”

They looked surprised but nodded again. Inga crouched, and Steelfox climbed her strong shoulders.

“Joy,” Steelfox said. “What of Innocence? What is your word? Does he live or die?”

The world seemed to spin. Duty to the past . . . at odds with duty to the present and future.

“If you can take him in the arm or leg,” Joy said, “do it. That should break his concentration. But one way or the other . . . you have to put an arrow in him.”

“It will be done.”