Page 203 of The Cradle of Ice
So, close your eyes and know it true.
I am here, right beside you …
She let them know that they were not alone. She did not intend to control them, to wield them, only to be there for them.
Overhead, the dark storm calmed, clearing somewhat, revealing the spatter of stars, twinkling bright. Still, the view was marred by shreds of tortured clouds. It was not over. True healing, true forgiveness, would take time.
This was only the start.
Six giant wings circled high, silhouetted against the spangle of stars. Smaller raash’ke made wider orbits.
Nyx cast herself into the fiery maelstrom and spread herself out to them, offering herself, singing softly of harmony. As she did, her view splintered, seeing the landscape below through scores of eyes. She remembered this from before, back with the Mýr bats of Bashaliia’s colony.
In turn, she was watched. She felt the weight and ancientness of that horde-mind staring at her, wary, suspicious, wounded—but also hopeful.
For a moment, her gaze flickered, catching fractured glimpses through eyes far off. She saw the Crèche. Iskar glowed fiery through smoke. A wreckage of a large ship burned on the water. Another sat in the shallows of the village. Other pyres lit the beach. And bodies. So many bodies.
Panic jarred her. She dropped swiftly, shedding free of those eyes, and fell back into her body.
She gasped as she did so.
Daal was still on his knees, but he stared up at her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked hoarsely.
“The Crèche … it’s under attack.”
She turned to Graylin, knowing where those ships must have come from.
She told him, told them all.
“The kingdom has found us.”
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DAAL STRUGGLED OFF the boulder, still weak, feeling a century older. He was the last to get down, but Shiya waited below and helped him. To the side, Nyx spoke animatedly with Graylin and Vikas.
Despite his exhaustion, fear pounded his heart.
Moments ago, he had shared some of Nyx’s journey among the raash’ke, but he had faded in and out, spent and drained. He had caught only glimpses through those other eyes, but he had been too weak to follow her all the way to the Crèche.
Still, Nyx had been clear about the threat. They all knew the urgency, the imperative.
We must get home.
He stared up at the sky, where giant wings still circled, gliding under those sparkling stars. Clusters of smaller raash’ke sped in ragged groups, still agitated, expressing their edginess. Nyx had warned them how fragile they were and would likely remain so for some time.
As he gazed above, he wondered if this was the Dreamers’ purpose in sharing the Crèche’s memories, why they had instilled that harmonious past into the two of them.
Was this the Oshkapeers’ intent all along? To preserve those memories until a time when they could be used to break the raash’ke free?
Daal had no way of knowing.
Jace called out, “I’ll start unloading the skiff.”
Daal returned his attention to the others as Jace headed down the rocky slope toward the river. It reminded Daal of who else was down there.
He followed Jace, anxious to check on Neffa and Mattis. The two orksos had a hard haul back to the Crèche. He wanted to check their harnesses for chafing and examine their burns from those fiery worms. But more than anything, he wanted to comfort them.
