Hettie grabbed Paedrin’s arm. “They’re coming with spears.”
“I’ll take those three,” Baylen said. “Head to the gate.”
The massive boots thudded against the stone as he charged them. Paedrin heard the Cruithne strike a spear out of the air with his twin blades. Then another sound as he launched himself at the others, striking down the long poles and spearheads and snapping one of them in half with a cutting motion.
“Can you see?” Hettie asked in his ear.
“In a way, yes. You have the sword?”
“Yes. With it, I can fly like a Vaettir. Only faster. I went down to Baylen and told him to climb up and help get the gate open as a distraction. He was coming to break your chains, but I guess you did that on your own.”
“Who needs a Cruithne to break a chain?” Paedrin scolded.
“Indeed. When did you realize it was me?”
He was so grateful she was by his side he nearly kissed her. “As soon as I smelled your breath. The illusion isn’t perfect, after all. A clever trap.”
They entered the plume of smoke and Paedrin felt his chest constrict. They coughed and choked their way through until they reached the edge of the landing.
Paedrin lifted his face to the sky. The thrill of victory throbbed inside him. He had faced down one of the Arch-Rike’s threats. He had conquered the Kishion’s lair. He turned back to the gate.
“What are you doing?” Hettie said.
“I’m not finished here,” Paedrin replied. “Let me hold the sword.”
“You cannot unsheathe it. Only Cruw Reon can and he is no longer here.”
“But it still works. Let me hold it.”
She handed it to him and he gripped the thin wooden sheath in his left hand. He felt the power surge inside it and lift him up to the top of the wall. After reaching the top, he stood on the crenellations, feeling the haze of smoke and hearing the battle down below. Paedrin lifted the blade into the air.
“I reclaim the Shatalin temple!” he shouted in a booming voice. “I will return with an army of Bhikhu. If any of you are here when I return, I swear by the stars that I will throw you off the walls at low tide. I am Paedrin Bhikhu and I claim this temple!”
“Before they perform a marriage ceremony, the Rikes of Kenatos counsel with the couple to discern the motives for the union. If the motive is driven by ducats, they counsel against it. If it is driven by force, they will oppose it. If it is driven by fear or jealousy, they will refuse to perform the binding. To these they say: He that is jealous is not in love.”
—Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
The Cruithne’s huge arms wrestled with the oars, making the skiff cut through the waters toward the awaiting ship. Hettie observed the seawater dripping from his nose, still reeling from the shock of seeing him leap from the top of the cliff into the water below. The splash he had made was no bigger than if a boulder had been flung from the mountainside, but he emerged from the depths quickly enough, stroking his way to where the boat had been secured and climbing aboard. Paedrin and Hettie had floated down through the veil of mist and gracefully landed nearby.
The thrill of Vaettir flight was still a new experience for her, but she loved it already. The sword gave her the power, even when strapped against her hip. The queer feeling in her stomach as she had descended from above was exhilarating.
“Why the grin?” Baylen asked her, and she noticed he had been studying her face.
“We made it out of there alive,” she replied, sidling closer to Paedrin on the bench. “We bested the Arch-Rike again. I enjoyed that.”
Baylen shrugged. “The plan was sound. I may have killed one of the Kishion. On accident.”
Paedrin snorted. “At one time that would have bothered me.”
“Are you still blind?”
Paedrin’s mouth twitched. “For now. The pain is gone and I cannot see, but my senses are…sharper. I know exactly where you are, where Hettie is. Every slap of the waves against the hull. I’m blind but I can still see. It is a strange feeling.”
“Are you wounded, Baylen?” Hettie asked him.
“A scratch.”
“Let me see it.”
“The Kishion was aiming for my back. He didn’t realize I had a sheet of metal sewn into my tunic in that spot. He took the liberty of adjusting his aim. I’ll be all right.”
“Can I row for you?” Hettie asked, leaning forward.
A small smile met her. “I’ll be well enough until we get on board. There are some healing runes I can sleep on that will help. Where do we go from here?”
“I’ll take those three,” Baylen said. “Head to the gate.”
The massive boots thudded against the stone as he charged them. Paedrin heard the Cruithne strike a spear out of the air with his twin blades. Then another sound as he launched himself at the others, striking down the long poles and spearheads and snapping one of them in half with a cutting motion.
“Can you see?” Hettie asked in his ear.
“In a way, yes. You have the sword?”
“Yes. With it, I can fly like a Vaettir. Only faster. I went down to Baylen and told him to climb up and help get the gate open as a distraction. He was coming to break your chains, but I guess you did that on your own.”
“Who needs a Cruithne to break a chain?” Paedrin scolded.
“Indeed. When did you realize it was me?”
He was so grateful she was by his side he nearly kissed her. “As soon as I smelled your breath. The illusion isn’t perfect, after all. A clever trap.”
They entered the plume of smoke and Paedrin felt his chest constrict. They coughed and choked their way through until they reached the edge of the landing.
Paedrin lifted his face to the sky. The thrill of victory throbbed inside him. He had faced down one of the Arch-Rike’s threats. He had conquered the Kishion’s lair. He turned back to the gate.
“What are you doing?” Hettie said.
“I’m not finished here,” Paedrin replied. “Let me hold the sword.”
“You cannot unsheathe it. Only Cruw Reon can and he is no longer here.”
“But it still works. Let me hold it.”
She handed it to him and he gripped the thin wooden sheath in his left hand. He felt the power surge inside it and lift him up to the top of the wall. After reaching the top, he stood on the crenellations, feeling the haze of smoke and hearing the battle down below. Paedrin lifted the blade into the air.
“I reclaim the Shatalin temple!” he shouted in a booming voice. “I will return with an army of Bhikhu. If any of you are here when I return, I swear by the stars that I will throw you off the walls at low tide. I am Paedrin Bhikhu and I claim this temple!”
“Before they perform a marriage ceremony, the Rikes of Kenatos counsel with the couple to discern the motives for the union. If the motive is driven by ducats, they counsel against it. If it is driven by force, they will oppose it. If it is driven by fear or jealousy, they will refuse to perform the binding. To these they say: He that is jealous is not in love.”
—Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
The Cruithne’s huge arms wrestled with the oars, making the skiff cut through the waters toward the awaiting ship. Hettie observed the seawater dripping from his nose, still reeling from the shock of seeing him leap from the top of the cliff into the water below. The splash he had made was no bigger than if a boulder had been flung from the mountainside, but he emerged from the depths quickly enough, stroking his way to where the boat had been secured and climbing aboard. Paedrin and Hettie had floated down through the veil of mist and gracefully landed nearby.
The thrill of Vaettir flight was still a new experience for her, but she loved it already. The sword gave her the power, even when strapped against her hip. The queer feeling in her stomach as she had descended from above was exhilarating.
“Why the grin?” Baylen asked her, and she noticed he had been studying her face.
“We made it out of there alive,” she replied, sidling closer to Paedrin on the bench. “We bested the Arch-Rike again. I enjoyed that.”
Baylen shrugged. “The plan was sound. I may have killed one of the Kishion. On accident.”
Paedrin snorted. “At one time that would have bothered me.”
“Are you still blind?”
Paedrin’s mouth twitched. “For now. The pain is gone and I cannot see, but my senses are…sharper. I know exactly where you are, where Hettie is. Every slap of the waves against the hull. I’m blind but I can still see. It is a strange feeling.”
“Are you wounded, Baylen?” Hettie asked him.
“A scratch.”
“Let me see it.”
“The Kishion was aiming for my back. He didn’t realize I had a sheet of metal sewn into my tunic in that spot. He took the liberty of adjusting his aim. I’ll be all right.”
“Can I row for you?” Hettie asked, leaning forward.
A small smile met her. “I’ll be well enough until we get on board. There are some healing runes I can sleep on that will help. Where do we go from here?”
