Page 206 of The Cradle of Ice
The bronze woman nodded.
Before joining her, Nyx ran a palm over Bashaliia’s crown. Her fingers brushed his ear, his soft cheek, borrowing some of his warmth, his love, knowing she would need both.
Once done, she stepped alongside Shiya. “I’m ready.”
Together, they stoked up a glow, letting it warm over skin and bronze. Nyx started first with a quiet melody, infused with the memories of raash’ke sharing the air with their bonded riders. She folded in a harmony of her own hopes, refining each note to make her need clear, her desire.
She let those golden threads rise out of her—from both lips and heart. She reached to Shiya, who was ready for her. The bronze woman sang brightly, the music heartbreaking, expressing what was lost, what was longed to be regained.
Nyx knew Shiya had no memory of those past flights, those ancient bonds between riders and winged companions. Still, each note rang poignant and true, rising out of Shiya’s own loss. Her loneliness and need for connection flowed through Nyx’s threads, adding a depth of pathos that could not be ignored.
The threads and tendrils rose high, like golden smoke from an ancient fire.
One of the giants wafted down. Its wingspan was so wide that there was no need for them to flap. Movement and guidance were but ripples in those great sails. It soared high, still hanging back, but it brushed through those golden threads.
As it did, Nyx felt the immensity of its intelligence. It wasn’t just this lone raash’ke, but all of them. Nyx shivered with awe, a mote before a god. It then glided off, riding in a slow spiral up a column of hot air.
There was no answer, no response.
She knew she could do no more and let her song fade. Above, the golden threads dissolved into a sparkle that scattered off, like embers from a dying fire.
“What happened?” Jace asked as she stepped away from Shiya.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “We wait, I guess.”
She had barely taken a few steps, lost in contemplation, when Graylin grabbed her arm, his grip like iron. Vikas stared up with an exhalation of surprise. Jace drew closer to them all.
Daal nodded, satisfied. “They come.”
From the skies, six raash’ke separated from the others. Each was only a tenth the size of the giants, but they were still huge. They swept up the river, one leading, then another. They were followed by a clutch of smaller wings, forming an escort.
The six broke off and crossed low over their group with a rush of hot air. They alighted on rocks and boulders. Dark eyes shone down from those perches. The beasts’ tiny ears pricked tall. Large flaps opened and closed over slitted nostrils. They panted in the heat, showing a hint of fangs. Their wings remained high, ready at a moment to fly away.
Bashaliia warily hopped back, likely remembering his last encounter with a group of raash’ke. But he was not the only one dismayed.
“You’re going to saddle those?” Graylin asked dourly.
“And just look at those claws,” Jace mumbled, focusing on his own means of transport.
“Let me go first,” Daal said.
Nyx stepped next to him. “We’ll do it together.”
She offered her hand.
He took it.
As their palms touched and fingers folded, a familiar fire flared. It felt like coming home. Daal didn’t have much reserve left, so she borrowed only a trickle, enough to cast out a flush of reassurance, of memory again, showing the raash’ke what she and Daal wanted to do. It was the first tentative step to renew an ancient bond.
They headed over.
Three shied away immediately, still wary, hissing in warning. A fourth lost its nerve, too, but a pair remained. Their claws dug into stone. Their brows lowered, studying the strangers with one eye, then the other.
Still awash in that glow, she and Daal approached with great care.
From Daal, a memory was shared with her. She passed it to this pair. It showed a rider securing a saddle, of cinches hitched. It was suffused with the excitement and joy of both rider and mount, along with a deep-seated affection.
This can be yours, too.
