Them and one other.
The bat, as if sensing Nyx’s distress, swept a circle over her head. Or maybe the creature was equally distraught. The view to the swamps centered on the dark mountain rising from the emerald expanse. The Fist wore a crown of steam and vents along its flanks shone crimson with the fires of Hadyss.
Even from this height, Kanthe could discern darker shadows plying the hot updrafts around its summit. Closer at hand, the tiny bat keened sharply, raising the hairs on his neck, as if calling to its brethren.
Frell shaded his eyes and stared up at the winged beast. “Apparently, Nyx, your friend intends to stay with us rather than returning to his flock.”
She didn’t respond, still gazing outward.
Kanthe tried to distract her from her misery. “If it’s going to stick with us, maybe we should give it a name. Just so I can curse it properly.”
Jace nodded, looking at Nyx with concern. “What do you think we should name it?”
She continued to ignore them.
Kanthe remembered the bat snapping at him when he had once tried to touch it. “As churlish as the bastard is, the name should be something that warns of its savage nature. Maybe arse-wing.”
Jace glared at him. “He’s not just a beast. There is a grace to him, too. Something you clearly can’t appreciate.”
Kanthe rolled his eyes. “Let’s see you try to pet it.”
Still, he remembered Anskar expressing a similar sentiment about the beasts in general. There be a noble savagery to their nature. The reminder of the Vyrllian captain only soured him further. He tired quickly of this game already.
Frell did not. “I think you’re both right. Savagery and grace are distinct sides to his character and comportment. Maybe a name tied to the Elder tongue, as their kind have been around long before our histories were written. In that dead language, bash means savage.”
Jace brightened. “And if I recall, grace is aliia.”
“That’s right.” Frell smiled. “I think it’s a fitting name.”
Jace tested it aloud. “Bash Aliia.”
Nyx flinched away from her friend, her face horrified. “No…”
30
NYX HAD BARELY heeded the whispering behind her—then a name cut through her misery and stabbed her heart.
Bash Aliia …
She fell back into that nightmare atop a fiery mountain. War drums echoed in her head, along with a rising crescendo of screams. She again raced across the dark mountaintop, toward a winged shadow nailed to an altar. A name burst from her throat, ripping forth with a stone-shattering power, naming the tortured beast atop the rock.
Bashaliia!
“No…” she moaned to the others.
She had never shared that particular detail of her vision with Ghyle and Frell. It had seemed unimportant, especially as she had dismissed that mountaintop view as a fevered dream born of poison and terror.
Frell stared at her. “Nyx, what’s wrong?”
She ignored him and turned to her tiny brother in the mists. In her vision, he had been as large as a full-grown bullock, with wings huge enough to lift such a beast into the air. Surely the two could not be the same.
But the name …
Jace misinterpreted her distress. “Nyx, I’m sorry. Of course, you should be the one to pick the name.”
She continued to stare up at her winged brother and admitted what she knew to be true in her heart. “He is Bashaliia,” she whispered, as much as it also terrified her.
As if catching wind of her distress, the bat winged through the mists, cartwheeling and whistling. Her vision frizzed at the edges. No images burned across her mind’s eye, but her heart pounded, fired by his agitation, stoked by his cries.
Even Kanthe noted her brother’s display. “What’s wrong with him?”
The answer came from behind them, rising from the lower chasm. A sharp howl echoed off the rock walls, joined by others. They all froze.
“Thylassaurs,” Frell said.
Kanthe turned back toward the swamps. He shaded his eyes, searching the chasm below, then pointed. “There.”
Nyx shifted next to him. Movement caught her eye. Sunlight glinted off of armor as a long line of knights climbed the steps. The legion moved quickly, but not as swiftly as the dark shadows that raced ahead of them.
Jace drew nearer. “What about those broken steps? Do you think they can make it past there?”
Frell answered, “It may delay the king’s men. They’ll need to rig a rope ladder.”
“But not the thylassaurs,” Kanthe added. “I’ve seen them hunt. They’ll leap that gap in a bound and be on us before long.”
The howling continued, growing in volume and numbers.
The prince cocked an ear in their direction. “I’d say there’s at least ten of the beasts, maybe a dozen.”
Frell pointed up the steps. “Quickly then. We must reach Cloudreach before they close on us.”
“Then what?” Jace asked.
“We’ll figure that out later.” Kanthe herded both Nyx and Jace after the alchymist. “Right now, we don’t want to be caught on this narrow stair.”
They all returned to the foliage-crowded steps and hurried upward. Every step was a battle. Thorns ripped at their clothes and tore skin. Roots and branches sought to block their way. It was as if the entire damp forest intended to trap them and keep them from ascending any farther.
And it wasn’t just the riotous growth.
After fording a score of steps, the group approached a limestone arch that bridged the chasm overhead. Bashaliia sped to it and spun and cartwheeled under its span. He dove and winged in a clear sigil of panic.
“Wait!” Nyx called out.
Everyone turned to her.
She pointed to Bashaliia. “He’s trying to warn us.”
Howls rebounded all around them, filling the air.
“I don’t think we need your brother to deliver that message.” Kanthe waved back down the path.
“No. It’s not the thylassaurs.” Nyx pushed forward and grabbed Frell’s arm. “It’s never been the thylassaurs. Bashaliia does not want us to continue past that arch. It’s what he’s been trying to warn us all along. He senses something higher in the pass.”
Jace crowded with them. “What?”
Nyx shook her head. She didn’t know the answer, but she was certain of one thing. “It’s worse than the thylassaurs.”
She got support from an unexpected source. “I think that little bastard might be right after all,” the prince said.
* * *
KANTHE STOOD AT the edge of their small landing. He drew the others’ attention to a deep blue pool in the river far below. A chattering cascade flowed into it from one side and a misty waterfall raged out the other. Between the two, the pool was shimmering glass, clear enough to reveal its bottom. Smooth river rock lined its surface—but that was not all that the current had polished.
Bones formed cadaverous mounds in the crystalline depths. Skulls of every size were heaped below, from giants with broken horns to tinier domes with pointed beaks. Leg bones crisscrossed throughout, some ending in yellowed claws or bleached hooves. Hundreds of shattered ribcages lay tangled together like woodland deadfalls, home now to scuttling crabs and a few silvery fishes.