A mess of blood and feathers littered the snowy slope. Packs were scattered among the corpses of human and eagle and owl alike. Gray-haired women lay sprawled, throats sliced, staring dead-eyed at the sky, their beloved owls lying bolt-blasted beside them. Uztari mercenaries lay mangled as meat, their corpses strewn with crossbow bolts and feathers. What a sickening waste of life, thought Yval Birgund, but battles always are.
He’d seen a few in his time as a soldier, fewer since he’d been the defense counselor of the Forty. For more seasons than he could count now, he’d spent his days explaining provision allotments and expenses for the movement of falconry officers to the cloistered kyrgs and their attendants. It’d been a relief from the tedium of courtly life when he was dispatched to the Six Villages for the market and even a delight when he’d been informed that he was required to attend to an expedition in the mountains above the Villages.
That was before he knew he’d be chasing children into the clouds. After a few words with the many village spies, he’d learned of the children he was meant to pursue and the lofty, if absurd, task they’d set for themselves. He’d also learned that he’d encountered the boy before, that gray-haired eyas who’d come to the aid of a street urchin. He hoped at least for the chance to deliver that boy a whipping. No one made him look like a fool, especially not some smooth-cheeked hatchling from the Villages.
When his retinue had found the bodies of the long-haulers, he took it for the sort of mountain brigandage that Six Villagers had a reputation for. Brutal but nothing unexpected. Standing before this second scene of carnage, however, he had to revise his expectations. These young ones had unleashed a massacre.
“A new forest will grow here,” Üku, the Owl Mother, told him, stoic as ever in spite of the injuries she had received. “I will mourn to see many of these saplings grow.” She kicked at the body of one of the mercenaries. “I will spit at the base of others.”
Yval Brigand sighed. Üku had lost a lot of her people. So far, Yval’s men had not found Yves Tamir’s body, which was for the best. Her mother would demand retaliation, and Kyrg Bardu had made it clear that the Sky Castle’s alliance with the Owl Mothers was a priority. So, too, was the bronze the castle received from the Tamirs’ vast and varied businesses. War required wealth to win, and the Owl Mothers weren’t the most affluent of allies.
“You have to admit,” Yval told her, “these children have shown resourcefulness, turned their weaknesses into strengths.”
The woman merely grunted agreement. The red burn on her face and irritated eyes spoke to why.
“When the time comes, we will still rely on you to train the girl,” he said. “Grudges aside.”
“I do not hold grudges,” she told him. “But I do have a memory. A very good memory.”
The last remark might’ve been aimed at him as much as at Kylee. He’d known Üku long enough not to turn his back on her when they were alone.
“Do you think she’ll be able to bring down the ghost eagle?” he asked.
“That will be up to the eagle,” Üku said. “Her talent is raw, which makes it unpredictable, and there is much we don’t understand about it. She’s protective of her brother, which might be a help or a hindrance.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“And I’m not a mystic,” she snapped at him. “You want fortune-telling, study augury. I deal in what is knowable.”
“Well then, tell me what you do know,” Yval said. “Or consider our alliance at an end.”
“Our alliance did not protect my family,” she said. “Our alliance, so far, appears rather one-sided.”
“When my forces keep the Kartami off your mountain, speak to me again,” he growled. “There will be plenty of bloodshed to share when these shards blow in from the desert with their kites. Unless we can control her.”
“And unless she can control the eagle,” Üku added.
“Yes, unless that.”
“So, you’ll want to make for the Nameless Gap?” Üku asked him, and he turned his eyes, squinting, toward the snow-capped peaks of the Upper Jaw range. High above them, past the Demon’s Beak, he could just see the cloud-shrouded dip into the Nameless Gap, a narrow gorge that formed a jagged, lonely U and rose to the summit of the range, where only the ghost eagle flew.
“No.” He shook his head. “They’ve a guide?”
Üku nodded. “He’s a good boy. It pained us to lose him.”
“There’ll be others,” Yval snorted. “We always see that there are.” He found the business of their covey distasteful, and their strict views of male and female bewildering, but it was not his place to rewrite the traditions of the Owl Mothers. They had their ways, Uztar had its ways, and they needn’t care much for each other as long as they could work together.
He turned the discussion back to the twins. “With their head start, we’d risk missing them on the way down if they succeed, and if they fail, it won’t be worth the effort to make the climb.”
“If they fail, we’ll surely hear their screams,” Üku observed.
“I think I have a different plan,” Yval said. “But it will require more of you than you want to give, perhaps?”
“The sacrifices I’ve made so far demand that I see this to the end,” she said. “If more is required of me, more will be given, but I will not have sacrificed in vain, understand? Not even the walls of the Sky Castle will keep you safe if all this comes to nothing.”
“Funny you should mention the Sky Castle,” Yval told her, and her stoic frown slipped as he explained the rest of what he required of her. Owl Mothers, he knew, did not like to leave their mountain.
In war, a lot of people had to do things they didn’t like. And this war was only just beginning.