Wryth watched the rampart rising ahead of them.
So close now …
He glanced down to the orb still in his hand. The handful of lodestone slivers still in place shivered on their pins. All pointing forward.
“I’m picking up a signal,” Wryth warned. He stepped closer to Brask. “Coming from ahead of us.”
Wryth rolled the orb, careful of the oil leaking from its crack. He sought to get a firmer bearing. He tilted it toward the base of the cliffs, only to have the lodestones lose their firm fix.
No …
His heart pounded harder. As he rotated the orb the other way and tilted the lodestones upward, the slivers firmed their alignment.
Trepidation set in.
Brask must have noted his stiffening. “What’s wrong? Has it moved?”
“No. It’s still due east. But it’s not rising from below.” He stared at the dark clouds churning atop the cliffs. “It’s coming from the Shrouds.”
“Are you sure?”
Wryth held his breath and rolled the orb back and forth again. He slowly nodded. “The artifact is definitely up above.”
The commander frowned. “What about Mikaen? Were we not to look for the prince, too?”
Wryth shook his head. “We don’t know if Mikaen is down at the cliffs. More likely he’s already aboard that hunterskiff.” He glanced over his shoulder to the far edge of the curved windows. “Either way, the Tytan can certainly deal with Mikaen’s safe return.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
Wryth lifted the orb. “We head to the Shrouds. Secure that artifact for the good of the kingdom.”
And my own.
He tightened a fist. For any hope of achieving his ultimate ambition—to rise to a potency beyond that of any king or emperor—it meant supporting Hálendii, of doing his best to guide events from behind the throne. For better or worse, his fate was tied to the kingdom.
At least, for now.
* * *
GRAYLIN CRINGED BACK as another fiery blast lit up the clouds behind the sailraft. The flare was close enough to sting his eyes. He hung from a leather strap near the open stern door. In fact, Darant had the entire hatch removed to aid in rolling firebombs out the back.
The pirate shouted from the front, “That one nearly went straight up our arse! But that’s the plan, right?”
At the bow, Darant leaned over his daughter. Glace manned the raft’s wheel and pedals, expertly driving them through the mists.
No, this wasn’t exactly the plan.
Back on the Sparrowhawk, they had spied through Hyck’s farscope as a hunterskiff swept toward the cliffs. Clearly the legion had spotted the same puff of smoke that had drawn the Sparrowhawk. Unfortunately, the other craft had arrived at the cliffs ahead of them. Graylin and Darant had to quickly revise their plan to rescue whoever sent that signal.
Graylin stared at their sailraft’s empty hold. Two more firebombs were strapped to the insides of the hull. It was all that the Sparrowhawk could spare. A moment ago, their firebombing had achieved the intended goal of luring off the hunterskiff. The hope was to open up a clear run behind them for the Sparrowhawk to sweep in low by the cliffs and pick up the others. At the time, Graylin had been counting on most of the legion’s forces either to be in that attack ship or to be called back to it.
Not running across the ground in pursuit of a young prince.
When the sailraft had dropped out of the clouds, Graylin had spotted the legion’s forces spread out before a nest of stone homes. Halfway between the cliffs and the legion’s line, two knights held a figure down on his knees.
Prince Kanthe.
At that moment, Graylin had been relieved to have his suspicions confirmed that the waft of blue smoke had come from Nyx and the others. He and Darant had quickly dropped two firebombs, half their load, to free the prince and scatter the legion. Then the hunterskiff had fired back at them, sending them running.
Before they had vanished into the clouds, he had caught sight of the attack craft rising in pursuit—but he’d also watched the legion chasing after Kanthe.
Unfortunately, the sailraft couldn’t head back to help, not with this shark on their tail. As a reminder, another burst of fire exploded close enough to waft smoke into the hold.
Glace called from the wheel, “I’m almost out of flashburn!”
So, definitely can’t go back.
From here, it was all up to the Sparrowhawk. The swyftship still had a few firebombs left, hopefully enough to blast a path and chase off the legion long enough to collect the others.
Graylin knew the odds of a successful rescue were long, nearly impossible.
Have I failed Marayn’s daughter yet again?
The only part of their plan that had succeeded was in drawing off the hunterskiff. There was no way for the Sparrowhawk to rescue the others with a shark guarding there.
Graylin took the smallest bit of consolation in this fact.
Glace suddenly hove the raft on its side, throwing the boat high—and just in time. A huge spear shot through the mists from behind, grazing a path under their keel. Boards shattered below, shaking the entire craft. The impact knocked them clear of the mists and back into the open sky.
Graylin swung on his leather loop, staring out the stern. The hunterskiff burst from the clouds behind them, far closer than he suspected. Its balloon shot high, hauling the lethal boat into view, exposing the length of its keel.
Instead of diving back down at them, the hunterskiff swung full around, firing its forges, coming close to igniting the sailraft’s balloon. Then the attack ship sped away and aimed straight for the cliffs.
Graylin’s legs settled to the floor as Glace evened their flight.
He frowned at the departing hunterskiff.
Why is it leaving? What could be drawing it back so swiftly?
Off by the cliffs, he saw a massive warship cresting over the edge and setting out across the Shrouds. He didn’t understand where it was going, but he feared it would circle back like the hunterskiff.
“Graylin!” Darant shouted with alarm.
He turned to face the bow. Directly ahead, a huge balloon—billowing and puckering—filled the world as it swept toward them. He now understood why the hunterskiff had fled.
It was no longer needed.
* * *
KANTHE LED THE others through the dark. They had retreated into the maze of tunnels that delved into the cliffs behind the homes. Jace ran with their shaded lamp. It was slivered open enough to light their way. The journeyman’s sweating face was a lamp unto itself, reflecting the meager light, shining with the man’s terror.
All around, booming shouts echoed from every direction. Flickers of torchlight drove them back and forth, even up a level. All this time, they fought not to get pinned down in any blind caves. Kanthe remembered Pratik’s warning about them being burned out of such a hole. Their only chance was to keep moving.
Kanthe held out one hope. He pictured the sailraft freeing him. It had to come from the Sparrowhawk, which meant that the swyftship had to be nearby. If that was true, his group needed to stay alive long enough for a rescue.
But doing so was becoming more and more difficult.
A scream rose behind them.
A glance back showed Llyra crouched low, her arm pointing back. A figure stumbled into their tiny pool of light and sprawled headlong with a blade through his throat.