Legacy of Moth Page 5

  CHAPTER FIVE:

  WINGLESS

  Eris Grimgarg stood upon the tor, a rocky outcrop that rose from the gray sea like a bone from a wound, and he stared across the water toward his home.

  Orida was but a faded line on the horizon, a shore forbidden to him. For three years in the darkness, Eris had dreamed of returning to his homeland, the island which his ancestor, the legendary King Orin, had conquered from the wraiths of the underworld. And now . . . here he stood. Upon a barren rock. A refugee and outcast, the blood of his own father on his hands.

  Yiun Yee walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. The wind streamed her white hair and silken gown, and her large Elorian eyes—made for seeing in the darkness of night—shone with love for him, a love that had given him the strength to search for the Meadenhorn in caverns and forests and dungeons, a love that gave him strength even here upon the tor, upon this rock far from any land or hope for glory.

  "I am sorry, Yiun Yee," Eris said. The wind ruffled his beard and tossed strands of his blond hair across his face. "I wanted more for you. I wanted my father to embrace you, to call you a daughter. I wanted a feast in our honor, to sing old songs of glory, to drink mead from the horn we fought for." He caressed the horn which hung around his neck, passing his fingers over its golden filigree—the horn Orin himself had drunk from. "Instead, we stand here now, your chest cut by my father's sword, my hands stained with the blood of that father, a man I slew." Eris lowered his head. "I did not bring you out of darkness for this."

  She touched her chest, where he could see the outline of bandages beneath her silken gown, and stood on her tiptoes. She kissed the corner of his mouth, and she spoke softly in his tongue, her accent thick. "Your father's blade nearly pierced my heart, but this heart will forever beat for you. I need no palaces, no feasts, no songs or tales of old lore, no golden mead from legendary horns. I would rather stand here on this desolate rock with the man that I love, free to love him."

  The waves broke against the rocks below, splashing up to dampen her gown and spray salt against Eris's armor. His longship swayed madly below. Carved into the shape of an orca, it looked like a struggling whale about to drown. Somewhere in the open sea, his brother led a hundred other longships on the hunt, seeking him.

  If they find us, Eris knew, they will slay my Oringard, but they will not slay Yiun Yee and me, not at first. Not before they bring us home, before they display us to the city, then cut off our heads for all to see. Eris gripped the hilt of his sword.

  "The sorceress has taken over our land," he said, "spilling poison first in the ears of my father, then in the ears of my brother. Prince Torumun has fallen under the Radian curse." He turned away from the sea and faced his Oringard. Ninety men—the survivors of the slaughter in the mead hall—crowded upon the boulders and rocky slopes of the tor. "Torumun has fallen to madness. We, bearers of the Meadenhorn, must resist him. We must dethrone him."

  One of the Oringard detached from the others and approached Eris. He was a stocky man, his yellow mustache curling upwards to connect to his sideburns. A horned helm topped his head, its gilt chipping and old, and a painted boar reared upon his shield. His face was leathery, his eyes small and blue and hard. He was Halgyr, Chief of the Oringard and greatest among its warriors.

  "Torumun is king by right," said Halgyr. "He is your elder brother, Eris. He is a serpent that crawls among weeds. He is a coward who would hide behind others in a fight. But he is eldest son of your father. How will you claim the throne by right?"

  Eris raised the Meadenhorn. "With this. The gods have led me to the Horn of Orin. I still bear our greatest treasure. I am second born but first in Orin's eyes. Back in our city of Grenstad, in our great mead hall, an evil lurks. Iselda, sister to Serin, a witch of Radian, cannot be tolerated within our realm. We must cleanse the Orinhall."

  Halgyr glanced at Yiun Yee, then back at Eris. The gruff old warrior lowered his voice. "My lord, there are those in Orida who would speak similarly of you. As your father wed a Radian, and as your brother took the same Radian for his own bride, you have married a woman of Eloria. To many in Orida, the Elorians seem stranger than Radians, creatures of darkness."

  Rage crackled inside of Eris. "Yet you and I know that's not true, that Leen—which our ships so often attacked—is home to noble, strong people. The Radians are not noble; they're cruel and cowardly. We've seen their ships slay women and children upon the coasts of Leen and Qaelin. We've heard tales of Serin's forces attacking lands of sunlight too, bringing all under his dominion. I cannot let Orida fall into the clutches of that empire. Two thousand years ago, it was Orida that first overthrew the yoke of the Riyonan Empire, who led to its collapse. Now it will be Orida that stands strong against the Radian Empire. My father joined the monk Ferius, shaming our island; I refuse to let Orida serve another foreign ruler." He looked at the Meadenhorn, and his voice softened. "For years, I thought that finding this horn would be my greatest glory, my life's quest. But now I know that this horn is a symbol, leading me to my true battle." He raised his eyes and looked at his Oringard, ninety stalwart men. "To free Orida."

  They stared at him and raised their own horns. "Strength and freedom!" they cried, the old words of their isle.

  "Strength and freedom!" Eris repeated, raising the Meadenhorn. "Torumun has forgotten both words, but we—true Sons of Orin—do not forget. Oringard! For three years, you traveled the darkness with me, and we now hold a treasure, a symbol of our old realm, of our strength and freedom. Will you fight with me again? Will you fight with me for the throne, and will you see me sit upon it?"

  They raised their horns high, and they roared their approval.

  "We will reclaim our land!" Eris shouted. "We will drive out Torumun and his sorceress, and we will cleanse the isle of the Radian curse. We will restore the true glory of Orin, our greatest hero, and we will drink mead in free halls."

  As the Oringard chanted for war, Yiun Yee approached Eris, her brow furrowed with concern. She placed her small, pale hand against his wide sun-bronzed arm, a gentle lily growing by a lion.

  "Eris, the Oringard are mighty; I do not doubt their strength or courage. Yet I've seen your brother command a thousand soldiers, and many more must fill his kingdom." As the wind billowed her hair and the waves splashed the hem of her gown, she looked upon the Oringard. "How can so few, brave though they might be, defeat so many?" She tightened her lips and turned to stare east. "Let us return to Leen, to my homeland, a dark twin to Orida. I will speak to my father. He will send his armies into the sunlight, for he fought in the war twenty years ago, and he remembers the ships of Orida raiding our coasts. They flew under the Sailith banners then, back when my father was only a soldier, when we had no true king. My father will not allow another banner of sunlit domination to threaten our home in the shadows."

  Eris cupped his wife's cheek and kissed her lips. She was everything he was not—small while he was hulking, soft while he was rough, pale while his skin was bronzed, a woman of purity while his hands were stained with patricide.

  "The people of Leen are noble and brave, no less than my Oringard," he said. "I've seen their archers clad in white steel, their arrows flying true. I've seen their glittering halls of crystal and glass, wonders of their empire's beauty and strength. But I cannot be seen returning to Orida with another's army. If the hosts of Leen help me reclaim my throne, forever will the children of Orin see me as a usurper, a foreign invader, a man no more noble than Torumun. No." Eris shook his head. "I cannot rededicate Orida with the hosts of Leen."

  Gruff Halgyr raised his wide sword, its blade shaped as an orca about to strike. "One of the Oringard is worth a hundred of Torumun's men. We will recover our strength. We will return. We will cleanse the isle of the enemy."

  Again Eris shook his head. "No, Halgyr, for Yiun Yee spoke truth. She sees us with the eyes of an outsider, and she judges us true—strong, noble, yet deeply outnumbered, unable to win this fight alone." A great wave crash
ed against the tor, spraying him with water and salt. He stepped higher upon the islet, rising to stand above his men. "We've all read the Saga of Orin. We've all sung its song. Two thousand years ago, demons and ghosts lived upon our island, and they drank the blood of the ancients, and they built their lairs from bones. It was Orin, a wandering warrior, who woke the giants of the icy north. Creatures of rock and ice and snow, they rose from the water, and they challenged him, yet Orin defeated their chief in battle. The giants followed him then, a first Oringard, and they cleansed the island of the creatures that infested it. He named that island Orida." Eris raised his horn. "I hold the very horn that Orin drank mead from in the first hall at Grenstad. Now a new evil infests our home, not ghosts or demons but a sorceress in crimson, a cruelty called Radian. So I will do as our forebear did. I, Eris Grimgard, will wake the giants of the north again. I will cleanse our island."

  Most of the Oringard cheered and sang. All but Halgyr. The gruff captain frowned and tightened his cloak around him. He leaned close to Eris and spoke in a low voice. "The giants are but a myth, Eris. An old story, existing only in song and on parchment."

  "A myth?" said Eris. "Once we thought Elorians a myth, yet I found a wife among them. Once we thought dragons a myth, yet my father fought the dragon Pirilin in the great War of Day and Night. If Elorians and dragons live in Mythimna, so do giants. Will you sail north with me, Halgyr? Will you fight at my side?"

  The squat, leathery man raised his chin and puffed out his chest. "Always, my king. To the edge of the world and back." He raised his sword. "Drink mead, Oringard! Drink for Eris, true King of Orida!"

  They stood upon a desolate rock in exile, but they opened a cask of mead from their longship, their last one. They poured the drink into their horns, and they drank and sang as if back in the Orinhall upon their homeland. Eris drank from the Meadenhorn, the artifact he had fought for, the artifact which would name him king.

  Yiun Yee leaned against him, and he held her close. They stared into the north as the wind whipped their hair and the waves splashed against them.

  * * * * *

  He is a hero, Yiun Yee told herself, staring at her husband. She clutched the wound on her chest. He was defending me, that was all. Defending my life.

  Eris stood at the prow of the longship, staring north, his sword raised. He looked almost like a statue, a noble Son of Orin, a legendary warrior from an epic poem. The wind streamed through his golden hair and ruffled his thick beard. His eyes shone blue—small Timandrian eyes but no less beautiful than large Elorian orbs. The sunlight gleamed upon his armor, his shield, and the horn that hung around his chest.

  A hero, Yiun Yee thought, eyes stinging. Yet she could not stop seeing it—the blood on Eris's hands . . . the blood of his own father. Again and again, whenever she closed her eyes, Yiun Yee saw her husband stab King Bormund, tug the blade free, shout for war.

  Pain flared on her chest, and she touched her bandage again. King Bormund had given her this wound. Eris had saved her life. Saved her! That was all. He was no killer. No murderer.

  I fought by his side for two years in the darkness, she told herself. I know him. He's noble and kind. She lowered her head, and her eyes stung. Yet here in the sunlight, do I see a different man?

  The Oringard chanted as they rowed, an old song of heroes battling sea serpents, dragons, and trolls, a hearty song sung with pride, with deep voices, with raised chins. Standing here in the sunlight of a foreign sea, Yiun Yee closed her eyes, and she tried to remember the songs of her homeland. She remembered soft tunes of haunting beauty played on harps and flutes. In her mind, she could still hear "The Light of the North," the great song of her people, a song sung for Taenori, the city of crystals and moonlight.

  As a child, Yiun Yee had stood in the halls of Leen's palace, surrounded by crystal columns, marble tiles, and vaulted ceilings painted with stars, and she had listened to priests play the old songs of Eloria, and she had pretended to be Koyee of Qaelin. In the stories, Koyee was a musician and a great heroine, and Yiun Yee had tried to master the flute, to emulate her heroine, but she could never remember the right notes to play. She had tried to learn swordplay instead, to become a warrior like Koyee, but she could never master the blade either.

  She had begun to see herself as one with no talents, an ordinary woman who could never become great like those she admired. Her father, the king, praised her beauty, and suitors from across Leen, Qaelin, and even distant Ilar had come to court her. She was Yiun Yee, Princess of Leen, her indigo eyes and fair countenance legendary, and yet she had turned down all those men. For Yiun Yee never forgot those old books, the stories of adventure and war, and she wanted to be like her heroines—like Koyee of Qaelin, like Suntai the Wolfrider, like Bailey Berin of the sunlit lands—not just a fair face but a woman of substance.

  And so she had left.

  With only her silk cloak and her diamond pendant, Yiun Yee had abandoned her palace, her father, her home, the very darkness of night. She had fallen in love with a man from the day, a sunlit demon, and for two years she had fought at his side. For two years she had thought herself a heroine like in the old tales. She could still not play the flute, still not swing a sword, but she had found love, and she had helped her love reclaim his treasure. She had traveled with her lover into the sunlight itself and to a foreign palace—one smaller than the one she had abandoned in the darkness—only to see him . . .

  The image pierced her again. Her husband, strong and noble Eris, slaying his own father.

  "Saving me," she whispered. "For me."

  He turned toward her, perhaps hearing her words, and his face split into a smile—the confident, toothy smile that she loved, that even now could melt her heart.

  "Will you sing with us, Yiun Yee?" he said.

  She smiled too and shook her head. "I would scare the fish away from the sea, and we would have no more meals to catch."

  Eris had spent the past few turns brooding, his eyes dark, and often Yiun Yee had seen him stare at his hands, contemplating the lines upon his palms, perhaps still seeing the old blood. But now Eris wrapped his arm around her, his chin raised and his smile bright, and pointed ahead across the water.

  "Do you see them ahead? Icebergs. We're far north now. That means we're getting closer. Orida still lies in the west just beyond the horizon, but in a few turns, we'll have left that island far behind, heading to the great ice lands of the uncharted north."

  She squinted, barely able to see it. Her eyes were still weak here in the daylight, the way Timandrian eyes were weak in the darkness. Yet as they oared closer, the icebergs came into view—towering islands larger than castles.

  "Are they made of salt water or fresh water?" she asked, turning to eye their dwindling supplies of water, wine, and mead.

  Eris opened his mouth and seemed about to reply when a deep cry rolled across the ocean.

  The Oringard's song died. The warriors reached for their swords. Yiun Yee narrowed her eyes, staring around at the sea.

  The sound rose again, a keen from the depths. It rippled the water, and to her left she saw something breach, a spine bristly with spikes. The cry rose a third time, and then the creature vanished.

  She stared at her husband, then back to the water. A few of the men drew swords, but it seemed to Yiun Yee that the creature's cry had been mournful, more a dirge than a battle cry.

  Then it leaped out of the water only feet away from their prow, and it bellowed so loudly it blew back their hair.

  The serpent was as long as their ship, maybe longer, and covered with gleaming, turquoise scales. Its mouth opened wide, full of sharp teeth, and blue horns grew from its head, wrapped with seaweed. Barnacles grew upon its belly, and its eyes stared at Yiun Yee, the color of the sea. Many spikes, each as long as a katana, grew upon its back.

  "A jormungand!" shouted Halgyr. The old warrior raised sword and shield. "Sea serpent!"

  The creature bucked, and while most of it still lay underwater, Yiun
Yee could see its tail far away; the creature was massive.

  With battle cries, men of the Oringard raised their bows and fired. Arrows slammed into the serpent, shattering against its scales.

  The creature howled. Its head swung and slammed into the longship.

  Horns punched through the hull. The Orin's Blade tilted madly. The creature sank under the water, and for a moment silence fell.

  The waves settled.

  "What . . . what was that?" Yiun Yee whispered.

  Eris stared around with narrowed eyes. The Oringard stood behind him across the ship, some with drawn swords, others with nocked arrows. The creature did not reemerge.

  "Jormungand—a fabled serpent of the northern sea." Eris turned toward Halgyr and smiled wryly. "Another myth come to life for you. A live jo—"

  Before he could complete his sentence, the beast burst out from the sea again, dripping seaweed and water and roaring with rage. It swam furiously, wrapping around the longship like an anaconda constricting its prey.

  The Orin's Blade began to creak.

  The Oringard rained down arrows, but they shattered uselessly against the creature's scales. Eris snarled, ran across the deck, and leaped overboard. He landed on the serpent, small as a mouse upon a python, and drove down his sword.

  The blade crashed through scales and into the creature's flesh.

  The serpent squealed. Its grip on the ship loosened, and it rose high from the water like a trained cobra from a basket. Eris clung to its back, lashing his blade, a dozen feet in the air.

  "Eris!" Yiun Yee cried.

  At the sound of her voice, the serpent flicked its head toward her. It met her gaze, and pain filled its eyes. Then it flailed its neck wildly, flinging Eris off its back.

  The Prince of Orida sailed through the air and crashed into the ocean many feet away.

  With battle cries, a dozen other warriors leaped from the ship onto the serpent, driving down their swords. The blades crashed through its scales.