He looked up from his scrutiny of the coin, suddenly aware that Nimlinn, posed like a slit-eyed sphinx, had been studying
him
.
“Your Majesty,” said Jasper somberly, “do you know where my uncle is?”
But she just continued to stare at him, making him feel more uncomfortable. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he nervously stuffed them into his pockets. He pulled out a LUNA Bar, tore off the wrapper, and began eating. What else had Lily put into motion? Jasper tried to pull back the memory of what his sister had said after waking him, but nothing more would resolve. Annoyed, he thrust the half-eaten bar back into his pocket.
“Your Majesty, where is your Dainrider? And why are you the only saddled Rinn?”
Nimlinn’s tail twitched suddenly, and one of the wyflings, his arms full of supplies, had to leap quickly to avoid it, letting out a little yelp.
“I have no Dain rider,” said Nimlinn, slowly and with great menace.
“I don’t understand. Did you lose him?”
“Lose him? I have lost no one. Your sister, Lily, is the only one ever to grace
my
back.”
Jasper thought this very odd. It certainly didn’t jibe with Uncle Ebb’s descriptions of the Rinn and their cool-headed Dainriders; in Ebb’s tales, they were like one being when they rode together. “But without a Dainrider, how do you make good decisions in battle—”
Nimlinn’s claws shot out of their sheaths and dug effortlessly into the soft earth. Her head twisted slightly to one side and a strange, deep sound came from her throat. Slowly, she mastered herself, and her claws retracted.
“It is time for us to go,” she said. “Climb aboard. Snerliff, make sure he is properly strapped into the saddle, and see that the two of you are well situated.”
The wyflings helped Jasper into the saddle, and Jasper held out a hand to each of them in turn. The pads of their paws were soft and warm, and the tufts of fur between their fingers tickled. Once they were all ready, Nimlinn sprang up and settled into a galloping gait, plowing through or weaving around the dark pools of water, easily bounding over the smaller ones.
Several times Nimlinn leapt into what appeared to Jasper to be total darkness, as the encroaching canopy of trees above them blocked out so much of the moonlight. But Jasper remembered the bedtime tales about the Rinn. He knew that with even scant moonlight, a Rinn could see as if it were daytime. Even in complete darkness, there was much a Rinn could discern from the way air currents swirled about its whiskers and fur.
They entered a wide glade where the light was strong enough for Jasper to see that they had arrived at the edge of a towering forest and that Nimlinn was steering them to what looked like a black tunnel leading into it.
Within the tunnel, the darkness became absolute, yet Nimlinn increased her pace. The wind blew strongly through Jasper’s hair, and he found that to keep his eyes from drying out, he had to narrow them to slits.
“Your Majesty—” he shouted.
“You do not need to scream in order to be heard.”
“I’d like to know what’s going on. What did Lily do while she was here?”
For a long time, they moved through the night air with only the sound of the wind in Jasper’s ears.
“Your Majesty! Where is Rinnjinn?”
Nimlinn made a growling noise that Jasper took for exasperation.
More time passed.
At last Nimlinn’s voice boomed out in the darkness. “You will need to know . . . a few things, I suppose.”
She explained to Jasper the powers of the saddle, including its ability to grant sleep. She gave a brief account of the morning of the crossover and Rengtiscura’s attack. Jasper cringed when he heard about Lily’s mistakenly setting the coin to an unknown moon, and he felt Nimlinn’s disappointment as she described the meeting with Aleron that came just too late. She mentioned nothing about Roan’s darkness or The Tomb of the Fallen. Jasper, for his part, asked many questions, especially about Rengtiscura, the scaramann, and the dragonflies; he, like Lily, had heard nothing of these in the bedtime tales.
Slowly, Nimlinn began to see that Jasper was not the complete dolt he had first appeared to be. He impressed her with his knowledge of Sea Denn’s defenses and of how important it was
not
to storm Fangdelve—and with his understanding that Greydor had acted in the only way he could. During this discussion, it became clear to Nimlinn that Jasper possessed a tactician’s mind and that his way of thinking was very different from Lily’s. After Nimlinn described the faster route through the mountains, Jasper surprised her by presenting a sound argument for returning that way. He pointed out that if the dragonflies were about, once they saw the spacing of Roan’s clutter, they would most likely post themselves in a position that would allow them to mount a surprise attack. If Nimlinn cut through the mountains, although they would be alone, they would be far from defenseless. This saddle was no mere riding saddle, but a war saddle bristling with armament. And the dirazakein, the razor-sharp hubcap-sized discs that Lily had, with Snerliff and Twizbang’s help, loaded into the saddle, would be more than a match for any dragonflies. The only time Jasper wavered was when he wondered if Aleron might miss them. Here Nimlinn found herself in the odd predicament of arguing
for
Jasper’s plan, and in that moment, she knew that he was right.
They passed through the Northern neck of Rihnwood and out to the ocean road with its roaring waves. The moons were bright and the clouds few. To their left, one moon, which Nimlinn identified as Rel’ Kah, was so large that it took up a third of the sky, even with its lower quarter dipping below the horizon of the sea. The moonlight reflecting off Rel’ Kah was so bright, and coming in from such a low angle, that Jasper found he could at times see quite deeply into the periphery of the forest.
They had not been on this road long before Jasper suggested that he attempt to will himself and the wyflings into a short sleep, one that would end before they reached the mountains. Nimlinn did not see the advantage of this at first, but Jasper pointed out that on all the long route back to Sea Denn, the easiest place to defend themselves would be along the forest’s edge, as they could veer into it at a moment’s notice. Nimlinn eyed the forest of her youth and could not disagree with Jasper’s logic.
When they reached the foot of the mountains, and Nimlinn was having deep doubts about employing a plan made by a mere Dain cub, Jasper and the wyflings awoke as if by clockwork.
The sun had been up for a full hour. As soon as it became apparent that they were not taking the road through the pass, Aleron descended from the skies and consulted with them briefly. During the night, he had met with several owls and bats who had news of the goings-on in the valley. Fangdelve was still under siege. The Clan of the Broadpaw had now joined Greydor’s forces in great numbers. Aleron went on to describe a black smoke that billowed freely from the higher reaches of Fangdelve. When Jasper inquired about what that meant, neither Nimlinn nor Aleron would say.
Nimlinn attacked the ascent with spectacular skill, performing great feats as she unnervingly clawed her way up sheer cliffs, leapt wide gorges, and raced across narrow ridges on which a mountain goat would have stumbled. Jasper, for his part, could barely contain his excitement. During their descent, Nimlinn had to chide him more than once for screaming things like, “Yahoo!” and “Faster! Faster!”
At the end of their descent, after leaping the river of Barradil, they happened on a large encampment of Rinn, waiting under Roan’s orders in case Nimlinn returned along the unique path she had used on her way to the Blight Marsh. Nimlinn was not at all happy to see them. Putting on a burst of speed, she entered the camp like a low-flying missile, overturning chairs, tables, tents, and more than one Rinn.
Once within the valley, and with Sea Denn a distant point on the horizon, she began to outpace Aleron’s flock, dropping them one by one. Finally, only Aleron himself remained, but even he could not stay with her for the entire journey. Jasper was not in the habit of guessing speeds, but he was certain that, if she’d been on a highway, Nimlinn would have been passing all the other cars.
The sun had traveled far across the sky and was getting low when Jasper first caught a clear sight of Sea Denn, city of the Rinn. It was precisely as he had always envisioned it, just as Uncle Ebb had painted it on canvas and in words. Only this time, it was real.
Rather than scrambling up and down the edge of the crater that surrounded Sea Denn, Nimlinn simply leapt the entire thing in a single bound. Nor did she bother with the switchbacks that led to the Ridgegate. Instead, she raked and clawed her way up the lower plateau, her final bound landing her smartly on the lower rampart. Startled Rinn scattered where she landed. Jasper could hear their voices, translated into English in his head. The Rinn cheered when they realized it was their Queen. A scout Rinn signaled to the Ridgegate, from which a lone a bird took to the air, spiraling upward to the Palace Keep.
“Where are we going?” shouted Jasper over the cheers.
“First we will see Greydor, and then I will take you to the special place I took your sister. You may find some items of interest there.”
Nimlinn took a shorter route to the Great Hall than Roan had with Lily, through chambers grander than anything Jasper could have imagined. Twisting passages led through elaborate glittering halls hung with rich tapestries. Nimlinn’s pace was a loping one now, but once they were moving within corridors and rooms, everything seemed to flash by at a terrific pace. A narrow stairway—narrow, at least, to a full-grown Rinn—led to the Great Hall, curving along the interior wall of the Palace Keep. At last Nimlinn veered off onto one of the many landings, stopping before a great Rinn whose long black fur was shot through with gray.
“Greydor,” said Nimlinn, and they nuzzled each other and pawed each other’s manes. Jasper was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable when Snerliff reached around from behind and unbuckled the straps holding them in the saddle.
Jasper and the wyflings slid down the side of the great saddle to the stone floor. Snerliff wasted no time. “Come with me, young master,” he said quickly, taking Jasper’s elbow in a furry paw and guiding him toward a low dais.
Although Jasper had seen an image of Uncle Ebb’s painting of the Great Hall of the Rinn, he had never actually viewed it in person. When Lily was eight, she had come up with the idea of giving Finder their mother’s digital camera and asking him to take pictures of all the paintings in restricted areas of the mansion, where
he
was allowed to travel but
they
weren’t. It worked perfectly. Better yet, from examining the placement of windows and fireplaces, they were able to make some educated guesses as to where the paintings might be. For instance, they were pretty sure the painting of The Great Hall of the Rinn was on the third floor, in a turreted room with many windows, hanging over a fireplace. They had identified the likely room by standing themselves out in the yard and observing how the sun entered the various windows. Lily had notebooks full of such observations and sketches. They’d packed a lunch and made a day of it. Jasper had always wanted to see the painting in person. He never once imagined that he would see the actual room first.
The ceiling was a low dome and the enormous brazier in the center was warm with coals. The pillars circling the room were wide, and the views of plains, mountains, and ocean were magnificent. Jasper wanted to view everything: the sea town of Foam, the besieged tower of Fangdelve, the tree-lined streets of Sea Denn’s upper city. From where he stood, craning his neck, he could see a smoldering cloud over some of the valley, but the view of Fangdelve, which he knew would be opposite the sea, was blocked. Through one of the openings between the pillars, however, he could see Clawforge, its unmistakable surface covered with magical runes.
After a short time, Nimlinn said something that caused Greydor to suddenly swing his big head around and look at Jasper squarely. It was as if a heat lamp had been turned on him, and Jasper found he could not meet Greydor’s gaze easily. Within moments, Jasper found he had to disengage his eyes and look instead at the floor.
“You have brought another, different, Dain cub?” asked Greydor, as he padded to the low dais and lay down, sphinx-like, Nimlinn taking her place beside him.
“Jasper is Ebbram’s kin, and Lily’s litter-mate,” she replied in a clear voice.
Jasper lifted his head and looked into Greydor’s great emerald eyes. From his talks with Nimlinn, Jasper knew Rinnjinn was considered a mere myth—a bedtime story for cubs—and that with no Rinnjinn, Greydor was the closest thing Barreth had to a ruler. He’d also learned that Lily had placed her trust in these Rinn.
“You have come at a strange time,” began Greydor in a commanding voice. “We have fought and destroyed a great force of scaramann, even killed their queen. But it was costly, and we have been much weakened. Should Rengtiscura have another attack of equal strength waiting for us on our next crossover with Darwyth, we will not fare so well. These are desperate times. Even now, the scaramann hold the tower of Fangdelve. We have surrounded them, and we stay out of range of their bolts, but they are working evil there. They have been brewing foul beasts. So far they have brought us fire-breathing dragonflies, but what they will bring next I know not. We cannot allow them to hold the tower, and yet I know of no way to remove them easily. The scaramann are notorious for needing very little in the way of food. And there are rooms within Fangdelve that we can ill afford the scaramann to access. I fear it will only be a matter of time before they find some way to breach one of them.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“I don’t know. But if you were able to help, as Lily did—”
“Me? What could I do?”
“You could help Roan call down the darkness, as did your sister.”
Jasper felt his stomach drop.
Lily did what?
“I—I would help if I knew how, but I have no idea how . . . Lily?”
“We believe the dragonflies are still few in number, but if allowed to breed and multiply, they will hunt down my Rinn. We have little in the way of defense against them.”
“What about the forest Rinn and their bows?”
“The Broadpaw cannot be everywhere at once, and they have Rihnwood to protect.”
“Well,” said Jasper, “where are your riders?”
Greydor’s eyebrows furrowed, and he cocked his head slightly to one side.
“What do you mean?”
“Your Rinn are easy prey to taunts, yes?”
Greydor nodded grimly. “It is true that once in battle, our instincts become more difficult to overcome. But we are what we are—that cannot be changed!”
“I understand,” said Jasper, “but where are your riders?”
“We have no riders! We are free!” declared Greydor.
On their ride from the Blight Marsh, Nimlinn had explained many things to Jasper, but he still could not understand why parts of the bedtime tales were so wrong. As Uncle Ebb had always told it, the Dainriders and the Rinn were like brothers.
“I’m not suggesting you not be free. I’m simply suggesting you outfit your Rinn with war saddles and riders. The men of Dain are cool-headed in battle, and a worthy asset to have at your disposal. They’re a second pair of eyes. They’re good with bow, sword, and lance. And you can’t use a dirazakein at full gallop without one.”
Greydor twitched, as though repulsed, and his ears swept back, but Jasper could see that he was listening.
“Dirazakein?” said Greydor, sounding as if the word were foreign to him.
Jasper could not disguise his shock that a Rinn would not know what a dirazakein was. He took two anxious steps toward Nimlinn but halted when he saw how alarmed Twizbang and Snerliff became.
“Your Majesty,” Jasper said to Nimlinn, “may I show him?”
Nimlinn closed her eyes and gave Jasper a regal nod of assent. It was a subtle gesture. Jasper thought he detected a slight smile at the corners of her mouth, as though she was pleased by his opening statement. Twizbang and Snerliff lifted Jasper into the saddle and Greydor glared at the sight. Jasper flipped back one of the protective leather flaps and very carefully hoisted out a dirazakein. How many times had he imagined what it would be like to ride a Rinn, in the full onslaught of battle?