Empires of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 2) (23 page)

"The dark
magic of Mageria," Torin said, his knuckles white as he clutched
the oar. "Damn it, Koyee, this is too dangerous. We have to turn
back. We'll find another way, even if we have to swim to Ilar."

She shook her head.
"No. There is no other way south. We must find aid in Ilar. If
we cannot, this war will not only destroy the cities along the Inaro
River. It will destroy the night. We must sail on." She touched
Torin's arm. "I won't ask you to come with me. We can oar the
boat to the riverbank. You can try to join your people here; you are
from Arden, an ally of Mageria. But I cannot stop here. I will sail
through fire and magic to save my home."

He sighed. "You
know that only convinces me to go with this crazy scheme."

She couldn't help
but grin. She mussed his hair and kissed his cheek. "I know. Now
put on your armor and helmet—and stay low. We're going to do some
tricky rowing."

She pulled on her
own helmet—the wolf-helm her brother had given her. She already wore
her shirt of steel scales. Keeping her sword drawn in her left hand,
she grabbed an oar with her right. Torin grabbed a second oar.

The
Water
Spider
gained speed.

The city loomed
ahead.

Wincing, they oared
through a curtain of smoke and flame . . . and entered the gauntlet.

The world became an
inferno of blood, steel, and fire.

"Keep oaring,
Torin!" Koyee shouted. "Faster!"

"Really? I
thought we'd just sail leisurely!"

Arrows
whistled through smoke. They clattered against the hull of the
Water
Spider
,
and Koyee cursed and ducked. An arrow grazed her helmet, and another
slammed into her side. She grunted as it dented a steel scale.
Between the smoke and flame, she could just make out the walls at her
sides; Elorian archers stood upon the battlements, firing on anything
that moved. The shouting of men, the blasting of cannons, and the
shrieks of magic flowed through the canyon, deafeningly loud.

"Around that
ship!" Koyee shouted, pointing ahead; she could barely hear her
own words.

The carrack rose
ahead, lined with three stories of portholes. Rents filled its sails,
its railings rose like shattered bones, and the crimson buffalo of
Mageria reared upon its burning banners. Arrows peppered the ship,
tearing down Magerians in dark robes. The black swirls of magic rose
from the ship, flying toward the city's defenders like demons seeking
flesh. Cannonballs flew down from the walls; one crashed into the
ship's hull, tearing a hole. Sailors screamed and fell.

Koyee
gritted her teeth as she rowed around the ship. The towering carrack
dwarfed the small
Water
Spider.
Torin
cursed at her side, face red as he rowed. An arrow slammed into his
arm and ricocheted off his vambrace, incurring a new stream of
curses. A cannonball crashed into the water ahead, and the
Water
Spider
jolted. Koyee yelped, nearly fell overboard, and managed to steady
herself and keep rowing.

"Between those
two ships!" she shouted at Torin.

Two junks rowed
ahead, their hulls lined with oars, their battened sails painted blue
and silver. Elorians stood upon the decks, shouting and firing
arrows. A Magerian galley came charging toward them, its figurehead
shaped as a buffalo.

"Between the
junks!" Koyee shouted, grimacing as she oared.

They
rowed. The
Water
Spider
shot forward, rocking over waves, bumping Koyee and Torin in their
seats. A bolt of magic shot over their heads; its tail grazed their
boat, twisting its frame. They kept oaring until they were moving
between the two junks. Arrows whistled overhead. The ships blurred at
her sides, forming walls around her, squeezing tighter. Koyee
screamed and kept oaring.

"Koyee!"
Torin shouted. "To your right!"

She
turned to see the Magerian ship loom. Its figurehead rammed into an
Elorian junk. A great wave tossed the
Water
Spider
into the air. The junk ship tilted, slamming into the smaller
Water
Spider
,
cracking its hull where Koyee sat.

She
shouted and fell from her seat. Her oar shattered. The
Water
Spider
crashed back into the river, tilting, its bulwark cracked and
leaking. They spun, trapped between the larger ships. Elorians and
Magerians leaped from deck to deck above them, fighting with magic
and steel. The little
Water
Spider
,
cracked and leaking, swayed between them like a mouse caught in a
room of battling cats.

Koyee
grabbed another oar; designed for twenty soldiers, the boat had
several to spare. She pressed the oar against the junk's hull,
pushing the
Water
Spider
away.

"Keep oaring!"
she shouted at Torin. "We're almost there."

A
second ship was pressing against Torin's side. He rose to his feet,
shoved against the larger hull, and pushed them free. The
Water
Spider
shot forward, popping out from between the larger ships like a
creature emerging from the womb. They oared toward the sea again.

Koyee inhaled a
shaky breath. Several ships were sinking ahead; masts rose like a
forest from the water. The dark brick walls of Sinyong still soared
at her sides. More arrows kept raining down, and cannonballs crashed
into the water like comets, leaving trails of fire. Three Magerian
ships still sailed ahead, the dark wizards on their decks battering
the walls. As Koyee and Torin rowed on, several Magerians crowded
together at the railing of a caravel. Their voices chanted as one.
Blasts of smoke left their fingers, raced across the water, and
climbed up the eastern wall.

Stone cracked.

Koyee winced.

With a sound like
the shattering ribs of a god, the wall collapsed.

Koyee
screamed as bricks rained down. The soldiers on the battlements
plunged with the stones, crashing into the river. Blood mixed in
water. Several bricks buffeted the river just ahead of the
Water
Spider
,
sending the boat into a spin. One brick grazed Koyee's helmet and
light flashed. She blinked, unable to see, only vaguely aware of
Torin shaking her and calling her name.

She shook her head
wildly and gritted her teeth. She kept rowing.

"I can see it,
Torin! The sea. The sea lies ahead. Keep going!"

Her vision was
blurry. Smoke, blood, and fire curtained the world. But she could see
the black shadow ahead—the open waters, the stillness that would
lead them to Ilar, to hope. She shouted as she kept sailing through
death and pain, water gathering around her feet.

Two towers rose
ahead, one from each riverbank, framing the exit to the sea. Archers
stood atop them, raining down their arrows. Koyee and Torin raised
their shields, grimaced, and oared as fast as they could.

Arrows flew down,
slamming into their boat and shields. One arrow drove into Koyee's
oar. With three more strokes, they leaped over a wave, crashed down,
and cleared the towers.

The
Water
Spider
shot
into the open sea.

Koyee breathed out
shakily. "We made it." Her eyes stung and she blinked
rapidly. "We survived. Tori—"

He shouted and
leaped toward her.

"Down, Koyee!"

She spun around.
She screamed.

She caught only a
glimpse of the Magerian—a man clad in black robes, his face hidden
under his hood—standing upon a pile of fallen bricks. Then the blast
of dark magic flew from the man, driving toward Torin and her.

She
raised her shield. The ghostly fumes slammed into the
Water
Spider
.
Pain blazed and she couldn't breathe. Smoke and iciness flowed across
her, and the shield bent and cracked upon her arm. Torin writhed
beside her, clawing at his armor; the steel was steaming.

Koyee's shield
shattered into metal shards. Her arm blazed, the steel of her
vambrace twisting, driving into her flesh, cracking and reaching out
metal fingers. She cried out in pain, nearly blinded, as she yanked
at the armor. Agony flared in white light as she tugged, pulling the
metal free from her flesh. She smelled her blood. She tossed the
twisted vambrace into the water. Through narrowed eyelids, she saw
the black smoke clinging to her forearm, twisting and coiling like
worms, crushing her; her bone felt ready to snap. The fumes began to
race toward her chest, cracking her scale armor, crawling along her
skin.

Tears of pain in
her eyes, Koyee leaped off the boat. She crashed into the icy water,
slapping at the tendrils of dark magic.

The curse left her
with a hiss like a torch dunked into a bucket.

Just her face above
the water, Koyee sputtered for air, eyes rolling back.

"Tor—"
she began.

She couldn't move
her arm.

She sank.

Blackness flowed
across her, and her hair floated around her, and she was
sinking—sinking into the sea, away from Torin, away from hope, but
at least the pain was gone now. She could see beads of starlight in
the water above.

A hand reached down
through the water.

Fingers closed
around her wrist.

She swallowed water
as she was tugged up. Her head breached the surface, and she coughed,
gasping for breath. A second hand reached under her arm, and Torin
pulled her back into the boat. She collapsed onto the floor, coughing
out water.

Trembling, she sat
up. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. She kept oaring. When
she glanced at her arm, she winced. Black welts coiled around her
flesh like a snake, oozing blood. She looked away.

They rowed on
through the darkness. The stars shone above and the waters calmed.
Blackness spread all around. When Koyee dared to look over her
shoulder, see saw the city of Sinyong far behind. It was rising in
flames. The screams of the dying rolled across the water.

"We made it,"
Torin finally whispered. "We made it out alive." He
rummaged through the darkness and lit one of their lanterns. "Damn!
We lost half our food into the river. But we still have the fishing
gear. I—Koyee? Are you all right?"

She was shaking,
tears on her cheeks. Her arm would not stop throbbing, and she felt
it inside her—something dark, twisting, coiling through her veins,
the smoke of magic, a worm seeking her heart.

"I'm fine,"
she whispered. "Torin . . . I'm fine. Can we stop rowing for a
bit? Can you hold me?"

She had barely
finished her sentence when he pulled her into an embrace. She held
him with her right arm; the left tingled at her side, feeling too
heavy. She laid her head against his shoulder, and he stroked her
hair for a long time, whispering into her ear. She closed her eyes,
shivering against him.

He stood outside the
ruins of his victory. A moon had turned since he had killed his king,
slain the demons, and crushed their lair, but the stench of burning
flesh still clung to his robes and filled his nostrils. The ruins of
Pahmey still smoldered, a sun upon the earth, a beacon of his glory
in the vanishing darkness.

"The sun rises
on the east!" he shouted from the hilltop, sitting astride a
white stallion. The wind whipped his yellow robes. "The light of
Timandra sears the demons of the night."

They mustered
before him, the hosts of light, the greatest army the world had
known. All eight sunlit kingdoms gathered upon the plains, the fires
of their conquest blazing behind them. Thousands of banners rose,
revealing the beasts of their realms—ravens, bears, scorpions,
tigers, and more, all the tribes of Timandra joined as one. Above
them all, Ferius raised his own banner—the sunburst of Sailith, a
sigil to bind all others, a symbol of his dominion. He was no longer
a man of Arden—Arden was but a kingdom of mortals, an invention of
petty men. He was the light of Sailith, an eternal flame. He was
domination.

"We will cover
the night with light!" he called out, hands raised. Around him
upon the hill stood his bloodsuns, warriors of Sailith, their armor
red, their breastplates blazing with golden suns like external hearts
of light. "We march to the wretched lair the savages call
Yintao. The demons call it the greatest city of the night. I call it
their graveyard!"

Bellow the hill,
the multitudes cheered. Men raised swords, spears, and hammers.
Beasts roared—bears of the north, horses of the plains, camels of
the deserts, tigers of the rainforests, and elephants of the southern
isles. Chariots gleamed in the torchlight. Siege towers and
trebuchets rose like a city of iron and wood. Warriors from across
Timandra banged weapons against steel and cried for
sunlight—northerners wearing iron over fur, their beards wild;
plainsmen in plate armor stride horses; jungle dwellers in tiger
pelts, spears in hand; desert warriors in robes, their blades curved;
southern soldiers in armor of beads and shells, their elephants'
tusks gilded and jeweled. From across the day they had gathered under
his light; they would fight as one. Half a million strong, they
sprawled across the dark plains, the mightiest army to have ever
mustered.

"The old kings
cared for thrones," Ferius hissed into the wind, his words too
soft for any to hear. "I care only for annihilation."

He grinned and
licked his teeth. His father, a weak worm, had bedded one of the
Elorian savages. The dirty blood of the night flowed through Ferius's
veins.

"But when all
the night burns, my blood will be purified. When the shame of Eloria
dies, so will my own impurity." His grin widened, hurting his
cheeks. "I slew you, my sinful father. And I will slay all the
demons that you loved." He inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring,
savoring the scents of the smoldering city. He shouted for all to
hear. "To the east! To war! To the blood of the night!"