Graylin’s heart knotted in his throat. He would not make it there in time. He skidded, snatched a bloody spear from the sand with his free hand, and whipped it toward the charging bat.

  It struck a wing and tore through it. The blow was not enough to kill it, but it did drive it aside, twisting it around. Black eyes fixed upon its attacker, lips curling from poisoned fangs.

  Graylin didn’t slow, rushing straight at it.

  Still, more bats descended, landing all around. Others beat the air overhead, struggling to get to Nyx, blowing a whirlwind of stinging sand.

  Carrying Heartsthorn low and wide, Graylin raced at the beast. As jaws snapped at him, he spun aside and swept his sword high. The blade cleaved through the monster’s throat, hewing through bone and sinew. Its head flew and bounced across the sand.

  Graylin ducked under a flailing wing to reach Nyx and Daal. His arrival scattered the nearest attackers. They surely scented the fresh kill and were now wary of the newcomer.

  Nyx stared wide-eyed at him.

  Daal glanced over a shoulder, keeping his trident up.

  Graylin pointed toward the shelter, where Jace stood in the doorway. “That way!”

  Nyx shook her head, her face pale, running with sweat. She gasped, “Someone’s coming…”

  Graylin didn’t understand. He searched around, sweeping his sword.

  After the brief hesitation, the horde regathered its nerve. The black storm descended toward them.

  Graylin clenched his jaws, ready to defend Nyx with his last breath. From Daal’s tight-lipped expression, he was determined to do the same.

  Between them, Nyx struggled to her feet and stared toward the sea.

  “She’s here…”

  * * *

  NYX WATCHED A sun rise out of the sea, its golden sheen spreading across the waves. Daal witnessed it, too, gasping in awe. She took his hand and felt the font of his energy stir inside him, responding to the song out there.

  Across the sand, Shiya climbed radiant and bright out of the surf and waded to shore. Her face was a mask of fury, her eyes fiery. She sang out like a struck bell, ringing loud and strong.

  The bats overhead scattered away.

  Those on the ground scrabbled from her path.

  She strode swiftly toward Nyx and the others, an unstoppable force.

  Moments ago, as soon as Nyx and Daal had entered the plaza, she had sensed Shiya’s approach through the sea. Maybe even before that. It had drawn her onward. Through the bloodshed, past the carnage, under those black wings. Nyx didn’t know how the bronze woman had come to be here, only that she was. Shiya was a promise of water in a dry desert.

  As the bronze woman joined them, Nyx basked in that bridling glow. She let it warm through her, sharing it with Daal via their grasped hands. She closed her eyes, breathing in that power until she found her voice. She opened her throat and heart and added her harmony to Shiya’s strength.

  The sun around them blasted wider, shining more brilliantly.

  The raash’ke screamed and fled from that sudden blaze. It must’ve been too much, too startling, too frightening. The horde spun and beat and clawed their way into the mists, seeking the blessed darkness of the icy world above. She watched until the skies cleared, and that malignant keening fell mercifully silent.

  Only then did Nyx sag again to the sand.

  It’s over.

  Still, she stared at the wreckage, the bodies, the ruins around her. She felt no happiness, no glory, only relief.

  She could also not shake a deep-seated worry. She remembered the strength of that horde-mind. After her first brush with it during the rescue of Henna, it had never struck at her again with such force. Perhaps it was cautious after her fiery assault. She could still smell the bat’s charred heart, feel the flames burning through her. She shied from that memory, ashamed at what she had done to Daal, but also unable to deny a longing ache in her bones to wield that power again.

  Yet, that act was likely the only reason she and Daal had made it this far. It had driven the horde-mind into the shadows, leaving the raash’ke with little guidance, allowing her meager reserves of power to forge a path to the plaza.

  A voice called to her, full of joy that felt misplaced here. “Nyx!”

  She turned to see Jace running toward her, followed by a limping Fenn. As the pair reached her, they drew her into a large embrace. Others began to crawl out of hiding, rising from nooks and cubbies. The town stirred forth all around, recognizing the threat was over.

  At least for now.

  Daal’s mother and father rushed to them. Floraan clasped her son’s arm. “Henna?”

  Daal wiped blood from his brow. “Safe.”

  Floraan sobbed in relief. Her husband hugged them both tightly.

  Graylin kept close. Shiya shadowed their group and continued to glow, though the intensity of her song had ebbed. Still, she maintained a steady hum, like a flashburn forge waiting to be reignited if needed.

  Across the square, faces stared toward them, some in horror, others in awe. The Reef Farer and his family gathered at the edge, wary but knowing the newcomers had likely saved Iskar—even if the horde had been lured down here by the crashing of their swyftship.

  A harsh shout echoed from the Sparrowhawk. She could not make out the words, but she knew who called to them.

  Darant had clearly survived, but how many of his crew?

  Graylin waved an arm, letting the brigand know they were safe for the moment.

  As the townspeople gathered at the fringes of the plaza, Nyx made a silent promise to them.

  We will protect you for as long as we can.

  Still, she pictured her group’s ultimate goal—to set the Urth to spinning and melting this world—and added a harsher truth.

  But in the end, we may destroy you.

  34

  BACK IN DAAL’S home, Nyx sat at the family’s stone table. A blanket draped her shoulders, but it failed to truly warm her.

  Jace crouched across from her, cradling a hot mug of fish stew in his hands. The fare had been meant for a feast following the festival. But no one was celebrating. Even Daal’s parents hovered by a small oven with Henna, clearly relieved but far from joyous.

  Mournful bells rang a slow dirge that echoed across Iskar.

  A short while ago, back on the plaza, Graylin had collected their group and led them here. The village needed time to gather their dead, to grieve for their loss. He didn’t want them in the way, nor did he want that sorrow to have a target. Even the Reef Farer had waved them off, but not before clasping Graylin on the shoulder, silently expressing his thanks.

  Still, they all knew such gratefulness could quickly sour.

  The next days would be fragile for all.

  As testament to the tension and edginess, they all jumped when the drape over the doorway burst open. Jace spilled stew onto his lap and leaped up with a gasp.

  But there was no cause for alarm.

  Daal shoved inside, breathless and tired. “Neffa is fine,” he announced. “She’s scared, but I calmed her. A shoalman is gathering the other orksos and moving them to deeper waters, getting them clear of the wreckage. The docks and shoreline are a treacherous ruin of broken boats and cracked piers.”

  “What about Shiya and Fenn?” Jace asked.

  Daal nodded. He had left with those two for the docks. “I found them a boat that was still hale enough to reach your big ship.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if they can roust enough others to rescue your friends.”

  Nyx swallowed, worried. Shiya had related her story. Her sailraft had crashed atop a small island. With no way off, the bronze woman had crossed the seabed on foot, drawn by the flames of Iskar. As she neared the shore, she had sensed the bridling threat and rushed to their aid.

  But now Rhaif and the others need her.

  Daal crossed and hugged his mother and nodded to his father. Floraan passed him a bowl of the stew. He joined them at the table, but before he could settle, a spate of shouts and panicked cries erupted in the distance.

  Nyx threw off her blanket and stood.

  Are we being attacked again?

  Daal set his bowl down and rushed to the door. Nyx followed, while Jace grabbed his ax from beside the table. Meryk came, too, but Floraan stayed with her daughter.

  Daal pulled aside the drape, holding an arm up to keep everyone back. The flow of cries and screams drew closer. A pair of villagers fled past the doorway.

  “Hen wrag?” Daal called to them.

  His inquiry was ignored as the two vanished out of sight.

  Daal glanced with confusion at Nyx and the others—then a familiar rumbling growl reached them, underlaid by a threatening chitter.

  Relieved, Nyx pushed Daal’s arm aside and slipped past him. “That’s Kalder.”

  No wonder the villagers are panicked.

  Down a curve of the street, Graylin appeared, flanked by the massive vargr and trailed by the mountainous figure of Quartermaster Vikas and the robed shape of Alchymist Krysh. The knight had gone to check on the others, those who had been left hidden in a nest of boulders outside the village. As they approached, Kalder’s hackles shivered down his back. His tall ears swiveled in all directions, alert for danger. The others looked equally wary and dour.

  But at least they had survived.

  Graylin spotted Nyx at the door and waved her back. Once the way was clear, he hurried his group inside. Kalder, too, but the vargr remained at the threshold, padding in a nervous circle near the door.

  Daal’s parents retreated farther back, guarding over Henna.

  The girl assured them, “Gree Kalder. Nee fayr.”

  Nyx noted one member of the group remained missing. Bashaliia. Still, she understood why Graylin had left the Mýr bat behind. After the attack by the raash’ke, it would be a horrible time to introduce Bashaliia, especially considering the villagers’ reaction to Kalder stalking through their streets.

  Nyx turned to Graylin. “How is Bashaliia faring? Is he all right being left behind?”

  Graylin winced, his expression pained. He glanced at Krysh. The alchymist stared down to his toes. Even Quartermaster Vikas would not meet her eye.

  Nyx’s heart clenched, sensing something was wrong. She took a step forward. “What happened? Is he still alive?”

  “As far as we know,” Krysh mumbled.

  Nyx shook her head, not accepting this answer. She found it hard to catch her breath, to challenge them. “What … What do you mean?”

  Graylin glared at the alchymist. “Tell her.”

  Krysh swallowed hard and nodded. “We all heard the attack on Iskar. The screams, the fighting, that awful keening. Kalder turned savage. Even Bashaliia fought to break free, maybe to aid you all. But I spotted the storm of wings over the village. I knew Bashaliia could not fight so many, especially while still recovering from his wounds. Vikas guarded the exit, refusing to let them leave. All the while, Bashaliia called and called for you, his cries deafening in that small space.”

  Nyx rubbed her chest, trying to calm her pounding heart. “Then what?”

  “It wasn’t you that answered. A covey of bats, half a dozen, crashed to the beach. The raash’ke screamed at us, muddling our senses. Bashaliia cast out his bridle-song in a furious wail that freed us. Before we could act, Kalder broke past Vikas and killed one of the raash’ke, ripping out its throat. Bashaliia went to his aid, trying to protect the vargr from the bats’ keening—but the pack was too fast, too strong. They surrounded Bashaliia. They pounded him low with their bridling, pinning him to the sand.”

  Krysh looked with pity at her. “I didn’t think he could be brought down like that, not even with five attacking him. It was as if something far stronger was wielding them.”

  Nyx closed her eyes. Guilt and fear strangled her. She knew the alchymist was right. During the battle, she remembered being relieved when the horde-mind had retreated from the fighting. She had believed her fiery attack upon the bat in the street had unnerved it, made it cautious and wary. She also remembered the dark presence, the spider in the shadows. She had sensed its cunning as it turned away from her—not to escape.

  But toward another target.

  Krysh continued, “None of us could resist the strength of that force. We all staggered, dropping, losing our senses. Before I fully succumbed, I saw those dark bats leap away with a blast of sand.”

  “And Bashaliia?” Nyx whispered.

  Krysh stared at her, his eyes apologetic. “He followed them, haltingly, trying not to go, but unable to stop.”

  Nyx shook her head and stumbled away from the truth.

  No …

  But she could not escape the certainty inside her.

  “They bridled him,” she gasped out.

  Jace joined her. “He’ll break free. I know he will. The first chance he gets.”

  She clutched her throat, remembering the force of that horde-mind, the malevolent intent of the spider. She flashed back to her first brush with that darkness. Up in the Sparrowhawk. She pictured the black bat clutching to the ship’s window, wings battering against the glass, its gaze fixed on her. Back then, she had felt the horde-mind staring through those eyes, casting out a silent threat.

  It echoed in her head even now.

  We will break you.

  She closed her eyes, knowing the truth, knowing why they took Bashaliia.

  They will break him instead.

  35

  RHAIF SHIVERED ON the floor of the sailraft’s hold. His teeth clattered, and his chest heaved up and down. His impaled leg was a fiery torch, but it failed to dispel his feverish chill. Agony flared with each beat of his heart. Cold sweat pebbled his brow. All the while, he quaked and shook under a blanket made of ripped sections of the raft’s balloon.

  Herl and Perde knelt beside him, ready to pin him down if his shaking grew worse. Their worried glances and pinched brows did not make Rhaif feel confident in his survival following the venomous attack by those sea creatures.

  But at least the beasts hadn’t returned.

  Off by the raft’s stern door, Glace stood with Hyck. “We’ll have to dig out that hooked barb,” she mumbled. “We can’t just wait for him to die.”

  Hyck shook his head. “Doing that might spread the poison faster. Kill him even quicker.”

  “We must try. Blood keeps boiling out around that thorn. It’s not scabbing or clotting. As if the venom is thwarting it from doing so. If we do nothing, he’ll bleed his life away while we wring our hands.”

  Hyck was doing just that and dropped his arms. “How long has Shiya been gone?”

  “Over two bells. She should’ve been back by now.”

  “You don’t know that. None of us saw those torches that drew her into the sea. We can’t say how far off they were.”

  “But we all heard those cannon blasts.”

  Even Rhaif had. The booms had echoed across the sea like distant thunder.

  “Those came from the Sparrowhawk,” Glace said. “I know the timbre of those cannons as surely as my father’s bellow. The ship is battling something out there.”

  “But we’ve heard nothing for a spell. Is that good or bad?”

  Glace shrugged. “My father is a hard one to kill. Besides, we have our own challenge here.”

  Their gazes turned to Rhaif.

  “What do we do with him?” Hyck said. “Wait for rescue or intercede?”

  Rhaif coughed and spoke through his shivering. “Can I have a say in the matter of my own fate?”

  They stared, awaiting his verdict.

  “Hack my leg off if you have to,” he said. “But get this sodding poker out of my thigh.”

  Perde grunted and stood up. “I’ll crack open the last cask of ale. He’ll need a cup or two of courage before you get to cuttin’ on his leg.”

  Rhaif twisted to look at the man. “Better bring me the whole cask.”

  Glace left Hyck to guard the door and drew a dagger from her belt. She set about heating the blade over a flaming tin of flashburn. Perde returned with a cup of ale. Herl helped Rhaif sit up enough to take it with trembling hands. Rhaif downed the cup in one gulp, staring all the while at Glace, knowing what was coming.

  “More,” Rhaif said, pushing the cup at Perde.

  His order was obliged—and thrice more after that.

  He suddenly didn’t mind warm ale.

  Finally, Glace turned and nodded to the twin brothers. “Hold him down.”

  Rhaif groaned as he was laid flat and rolled on his side. It felt like shifting over a bed of hot coals. As his leg was exposed, he grimaced at the sight of the black barb, the bubbling blood, and the greenish veins driving outward from the wound.

  Glace knelt next to him and lifted her fiery-tipped blade.

  “Wait!” Rhaif gasped, and held out a shaking arm toward Perde. “One sip more. I’m not feeling quite courageous enough.”

  The brother indulged, emptying the last of the cask, and handed over the cup.

  Herl did not look pleased. “He did drain it all.”

  Rhaif tilted his head and glared over at the man. “You’re welcome to take my place.”

  Herl frowned, not accepting his generous offer.

  Rhaif turned back and swallowed the last of the ale. He took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded to Glace. “Do it.”

  As she shifted closer, Rhaif leaned back. His head spun, but he didn’t know if it was from poisonous delirium or drunkenness.

  “I’ll be quick,” Glace promised.

  The two brothers closed on him. Large hands pinned his shoulders and ankles.

  Rhaif squeezed his eyes shut, readying himself. It didn’t help. With his flesh inflamed, the first cut drew an agonized scream from his throat. The second cut was worse. He thrashed and bucked from the planks. Herl and Perde sprawled over him. Glace continued digging, breaking her oath to do this quickly.

  She swore and hollered for the brothers to hold him steady.

  Rhaif writhed and panted, soon too agonized to do more than mewl in pain. His vision narrowed to a pinch.

  Finally, Glace sat back. “Got it.”

  Rhaif collapsed with relief, shaking and shivering. The cabin continued to spin and wobble. His leg remained a torch.