Vanna thrust the blade of her dagger across his neck then immediately withdrew.

  “Kai?”

  Kai’s head bobbed from side to side. Groaning, he flipped his sandy hair away from his unfocused eyes. Vanna met his first attempt to hoist himself up with a blast of wind that planted him flat on his back.

  She loomed over him, fuming. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  He shielded himself from her torchlight with an arm. “Can you point that thing away?”

  “I almost cut your throat!” Vanna let him struggle with his blindness another second before granting him his vision.

  He sat upright, clutching his ribs with another pained groan. “You did enough damage without it.” His eyes leapt to the side of the path, chasing the sound of some snarling predator.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Kai?”

  “What the hell am I doing here?” His jaw dropped.

  “I won’t ask again.”

  “I followed you—to make sure you were okay!”

  She brandished her dagger as if she might really strike him. “You think I need your protection?”

  “I don’t know! The way you’ve been acting—” He shook his head. “What in creation are you doing in the Green Maw in the middle of the night? This jungle’s cursed.”

  “Stupid fledgling…” Vanna shook her head, exasperated. She sheathed her dagger before she did something she’d regret and perched her hands on her hips. “Get up off the ground.” She offered her hand and hoisted Kai back to his feet. “Go back to the village,” she said as he dusted himself off. “Forget what you saw here.”

  His slackjawed expression seemed caught between outrage and despair. “I can’t just leave you here.”

  “You can and you will,” she shot back.

  “Is that an order?” He sounded so petulant. To think, she’d nearly welcomed this child into her bed.

  “It is,” she said.

  “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you’re doing out here!”

  A shriek in the distance and a rustling overhead interrupted the argument.

  “What was that?” Fear banished all the obstinance from Kai’s voice. He drew up beside her.

  Vanna cast her torchlight up to the canopy—caught a lemur’s striped tail scampering across a gnarled branch. She turned back, intending to shame Kai into compliance, but a louder rustling drew her attention back to the canopy. The winds shouted their warning too late. A pair of giant wings descended from the treetops. Her torchlight flashed on the end of a sharp beak cutting toward her, and Vanna drew upon her Gift, raising enough wind to shield them both.

  The beak scythed through her currents, the leading edge of a hulking Avian that landed on the path in front of them. The creature’s muscular legs bent as it folded up its wings.

  An eight-foot hawk unsheathed a greatsword as tall as Kai and lunged, beak snapping over the edge of its blade. Vanna stumbled backward until she bumped into Kai. She fired a blast of wind to parry the Avian, but the hawk cut effortlessly through her gust until the point of its sword came level with the tip of Vanna’s nose.

  Vanna raised her hands in surrender, and the Avian slowly lowered its blade. As soon as it did, Kai threw himself in front of Vanna with his arms outstretched like the brazen idiot he was.

  “I won’t let you hurt her!” he shouted.

  The Avian tilted its feathered head and ruffled its wings. It marked both of them with one yellow eye before returning its greatsword to the scabbard on its back.

  Vanna recognized that eye.

  “Sparrowhawk,” she said. Not “it”; “he”.

  The Avian snapped his beak. “You’re late.” The screeching character of his voice startled Kai, but Vanna was prepared for it.

  She pushed Kai out of the way to face Bael’s flying soldier. “I need to talk to Bael,” Vanna said. “Will you take me to your camp?”

  Sparrowhawk’s head thrust forward with a pigeon jerk. “It’s not far. He’s been waiting.”

  “Vanna…” Kai’s voice trembled in her ear. “What’s going on here?”

  Jokai fend, Kai. “Go back to the village,” she said.

  “How can you expect me to leave you with—with that!”

  “His name’s Sparrowhawk,” she said. “And he’s no danger.” She looked back up at the eight-foot hawk with the six-foot sword. “Right?”

  “Bael would not see you harmed,” Sparrowhawk squawked. “But the spare cannot leave.”

  “That’s not going to work,” Vanna countered.

  Sparrowhawk snapped his beak. “He’s seen too much. Bael will need to examine him.”

  Vanna glanced over her shoulder at Kai, who seemed content to keep quiet while events were moving in his favor. The reckless fool had found an unlikely ally in Sparrowhawk. He had no idea what he’d just blundered into. As much as she didn’t want Kai to be tainted by her contact with Bael, she needed to meet with the Toranese pirate more than she needed to keep his hands clean.

  With one warning glance over her shoulder at Kai, Vanna acquiesced. “Fine.”

  Sparrowhawk led them deeper into the jungle before diverting off the cart path. His broad profile carved a trail for the two dragoons to follow through another span of untamed jungle. Vanna picked up the scent of fire and cooking meat long before they reached a second clearing. Bael had made his bivouac in an auspicious pocket of jungle capped by unbroken canopy and guarded by tallow trunks that grew so thick they obscured the light from his campfire.

  Beyond the tree line, a trellis of strange fetishes molded from fur and jungle debris ringed the camp. These charms dangled from tallow branches on fibrous rope. Vanna parted two of these bangles and found the Kenshan waiting patiently on the stump of a felled tree. He watched the skinned carcass of a rabbit as it sizzled on a makeshift spit over a low fire. Sparrowhawk broke off to inspect a set of fetishes as Bael rose from the fireside in greeting.

  “Lieutenant. You made it.” His eyes marked Kai. “And you brought a friend.”

  Vanna clung to a vain hope that Kai would have the good sense to keep silent, but of course he did not. “You’re that pirate!” he blurted out. “The one from Aeolus.”

  Bael’s thin mustache cast odd shadows across his face in the flickering light thrown by the fire. Ignoring Kai’s outburst, he addressed Vanna instead. “Can we count on the boy’s discretion?”

  “Not generally,” Vanna grumbled. She was certain Kai missed her irritated side-eye. “But he’ll listen to me, and he knows how to follow orders—present circumstances notwithstanding.”

  The jab wounded Kai back to obedience, and Vanna was grateful for it. She didn’t want to find out what happened if Bael decided that he couldn’t be trusted.

  “Good enough for me,” Bael said.

  Sparrowhawk squawked from the edge of the bivouac. “Did you touch this one?” He cupped one of the dangling fetishes in a three-fingered hand as he pointed his beak at Bael with an accusatory jab.

  “Why would I touch one of your disgusting pellets?” Bael shot back.

  Sparrowhawk snapped his beak. “This one needs to be repaired. The leylines are all broken.”

  “And somehow we’ve survived,” Bael said.

  Sparrowhawk’s yellow eyes jumped to the treetops. “These wards are the only thing holding this jungle’s restless spirits at bay.”

  Bael waved him off. “Do what you want, you superstitious bird.”

  With a sharp squawk, Sparrowhawk returned to tending his charms.

  Bael’s almond eyes shifted back to Vanna and Kai. He extended one arm in invitation, indicating a log around the campfire. “Please—step into my office. The accommodations aren’t a match for the governor’s manse on Aeolus, but we’ve got firewood and a fresh rabbit on the spit.”

  Vanna accepted the invitation without taking her eyes off Bael. Mercifully, Kai maintained his silence as he followed her lead.

  “So,” Bael said as he lowered himself back onto his stump. “What brings you out to my neck of the jungle? I’m not quite conceited enough to think it’s just the allure of my convivial company.”

  Flametongues leapt to lick the rabbit’s blackening flesh. Vanna stared through the fire at Bael. “I saw something on patrol tonight—over Aquilon.”

  “Vanna, don’t—” She felt Kai’s hand on her arm.

  “Would you keep your Jokai-damned mouth shut for once?” She swatted him away and turned her attention back to Bael. “I don’t know if it’s anything, but in the context of everything else that’s been happening around the archipelago, it feels significant.”

  “Everything else?” Bael stroked his goatee. “You mean Whitefang’s attack?”

  “I mean the conscriptions,” Vanna said.

  Bael released his chin and leaned in until the firelight reached his blue braids. “What conscriptions?”

  “Dragoons,” Vanna said. It might have been a trick of the firelight, but Bael’s hazel eyes seemed to flicker. The unsettling flash reminded her of a hunter sighting prey, but Vanna shook the feeling away. “Kelestina issued a Writ of Conscription for three of the strongest Elementalists on Volturnus. They’ve already reported to Governor Ansel and been transferred up to Aquilon.”

  The predatory glint vanished as Bael sat back on his stump. Again, he stroked his goatee. “That is interesting.”

  “You once told me the Celestials coveted our Gifts,” Vanna said.

  As her voice trailed off, the Kenshan sat motionless, daring—or perhaps inviting—her to take the final leap of her own volition.

  “Is that what’s happening?” Vanna asked. “Has the time come for Kelestina to reap her harvest?”

  Bael let the fire crackle between them for painful seconds before answering her question with another. “This ship over Aquilon—describe it to me.”

  Vanna shook her head, gathering every detail she could recall from her brief survey of the airship. “Big,” she said. “Massive. At least 1,000 feet long. Body enclosed with no exterior deck. Powered by steam pistons and lumite lifts.”

  “Carvel hull or tapered cylinder?” he asked.

  “Tapered cylinder, I guess—like a rolled cigar.”

  Bael nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like an aero-marine transport. You catch the colors by any chance?”

  “The Armada Serpent on one side.” Vanna’s throat felt suddenly dry. Her voice grew hoarse. “The other one looked like an owl with a branch in its beak—black over a red- and gold-checkered field.”

  A low cooing sound warbled in the back of Sparrowhawk’s Avian throat. He’d drifted back toward the campfire after finishing his work with the damaged fetish.

  “That’s the banner of the Eostrix Legion,” Bael explained. “They currently serve under Admiral Siprichor in Toran.”

  “What does that mean?” Vanna asked.

  Bael stood up and threw another log on the fire, sending a stream of ashes billowing up toward the stifling canopy. “It means your instincts are good, Lieutenant. The transport and the conscripts are connected. Kelestina’s sending your kin to stand on the front lines in Toran.”

  “The front lines…” The news should have been a greater shock, but Vanna realized she’d only come to Bael to hear him confirm what she already knew in her gut. Flynn, Senna, and Kale had been conscripted into the Armada. They’d be sent to a foreign land—to fight and die in somebody else’s war.

  A change in the winds blew a pillar of smoke in Kai’s face, and he shifted on the log, drawing closer to Vanna. “Why would the Armada go to so much trouble for three dragoons?” he asked.

  Vanna had been ready to shut him up again, but it was a reasonable question, so she let it stand.

  “I can only speculate.” Bael tapped a finger against his leg. “Our alliance with the Red-Tail Clan has turned the tides of war against Siprichor’s legions. We can’t match the Armada ship-for-ship, but small fliers are difficult for an unwieldy destroyer to repel. A flock of Avian warriors can sink an airship. You Elementalists would provide an appealing countermeasure against the Red-Tails.”

  Vanna looked over at Sparrowhawk’s rigid profile in the firelight. She tried to imagine three dragoons flying into battle against a flock of his peers brandishing six-foot greatswords. It didn’t end well for the dragoons.

  “The occupation in the Zephyrs has reached a new phase,” Bael said. “These conscriptions won’t be the last. If you want to save your archipelago, the time to act is now.”

  “What if you’re wrong?” Kai asked.

  “I hope I am—for both our people’s sake.” Bael tossed another log on the fire and sat back on his stump. He turned the spit so the rabbit would cook more evenly. To Vanna, it all seemed very rehearsed.

  “You sound like you’ve been preparing for this,” Vanna ventured.

  Bael and Sparrowhawk shared a meaningful glance as the Kenshan continued turning the spit. “It’s all part of a pattern,” he said, still watching his Avian companion.

  Sparrowhawk snapped his beak. “Tell them,” he squawked.

  “Tell us what?” Kai demanded.

  Bael released the handle of the makeshift spit and took a long sip from a gourd of water. “A story.” He answered Kai’s question, but his almond eyes settled on Vanna. “I think it’s time I told you a story about Kensha.”

  23

  EFFIE

  Leviathan of the Doric and Ionic Skies proved a tempting distraction. Each night, Effie drifted further from her syllabus, drawn to the vibrant portraits of exotic creatures and the colorful descriptions of their habitats, many of which extended beyond the edges of her most expansive maps.

  She read about the dauphine and their seasonal migration that took them only briefly to the Moonflow of Volturnus. The rest of the year, their pod processed in a wide ellipse across the eastern sky—to the peaks of the Caliban Range where they roosted to mate. The portrait of a hammerhead faithfully reproduced the creature she’d met in Sire Meseret’s hold. According to the field guide, they schooled in three locations clustered in the frigid northern skies—300 leagues from the Zephyr Archipelago. The Celestial Armada prized this species for their violent demeanor and crushing bite. As she pushed deeper into the guide, she discovered even stranger breeds—eight-flippered chelenoid tortoises that lived for 1,000 years; the starwhals of Beospora, with lance-like tusks capable of piercing armored aircraft; and the terrifying tohili of Vangulmark—plumed serpents that grew to 500 feet in length.

  On the eve of her next dreaded history lecture, Effie discovered a stunning creature at the back of the field guide. She was supposed to be reading a dry treatise on the Umari Civil War. The label “Sleipnir the Doric Titan (mythic)” loomed over a portrait that recalled a distant dream—a six-legged horse with feathered hooves and broad white wings. An eternal flame burned along the back of the creature’s neck in place of a mane, and its eyes smoldered like activated charcoal.

  No known habitat accompanied the portrait, and its entry was comparatively brief:

  The mythical Titan of the Doric sky is said to grow up to 1,000 feet from nose to tail and is capable of claiming altitudes in excess of 20,000 feet above the meridian. The Sleipnir is rumored to maintain a small scope of habitation around the jungle island Bennu. Many expeditions to discover the elusive island have been attempted without success. In light of the Crystal Throne’s extensive surveys of the Doric Sky, it’s unlikely that such an island exists. The Sleipnir may, in fact, be extinct—if it ever existed.

  The Annals of Solaris contain no credible first-hand accounts of the Sleipnir. Artistic liberties have been taken in the production of this fanciful portrait, a composite produced from multiple impressions of dubious character.

  Effie turned back to the color portrait. Most of her Leviathan dreams faded quickly upon contact with the waking world, but this one persisted with the fidelity of conscious memory. As she looked at the image in her field guide, she could almost feel its rough white hide between her fingers—smell the ozone and charcoal of its burning mane. She knew the creature’s name before she read it, though the title was new to her: the Titan of the Doric Sky.

  A mythical creature from an island that didn’t exist.

  The next morning, Effie made an earnest effort to focus on Muldoon’s history lesson, but her mind kept drifting to the Sleipnir and its uncanny presence in her dreamscape. Her distraction didn’t pass unnoticed.

  Muldoon caught her unfocused gaze and paused his lecture to snap his chalk against the slate board, jarring her back to attention.

  “Something on your mind?” He sounded irritated.

  “Sorry.” Effie shook herself back to the present. “You were saying something about…Toran, I want to say?” Her playful smile didn’t penetrate Muldoon’s ill temper.

  “Perhaps you’d like to recount the notable battles of the Umari Civil War from your readings?”

  “I…” Effie hadn’t finished the readings and had been too distracted by the field guide to retain what little she did get through. “I think I’d rather hear your expert take on the matter.” She batted her eyes at her tutor, but Muldoon still wasn’t biting.

  “If you aren’t going to complete the readings, then there’s little reason for us to be here.”

  “I’m sorry!” Effie put on her best pout, but she was quickly burning through all the charms in her arsenal. “I just can’t put down that field guide you gave me. Can’t we have a lecture on the Leviathan instead?”

  Muldoon set down his chalk and flexed his fingers, forcing patience. “You won’t be tested on Leviathan of the Doric and Ionic Skies.”

  “But isn’t that more relevant if I’m to become a Pilot in the Armada?” she protested. “These Toranese wars are all history! This can’t possibly be relevant.”