ââ
âLord Farran wanted to build a strong country. A great country.â The man pauses. âAnd itâs easier to lure folks here with promises, Iâd say, than to strike out and abduct them from their homes.â
A cold little clench runs down my spine. I think suddenly of King Morrigan and his conscription for the army â of being forced into service at the age of eighteen. Have we fled from one life of slavery into another?
The man lowers his pistol. He looks around, then drops his voice, as though heâs about to say something illicit. âIf youâve any chance of heading back, folks, Iâd do it now.â
I blink. Heading back? Back into Taladia? After all weâve endured: the deaths, the trauma, the snow and storms and wastelands and the horror of the catacombs â¦
No. Itâs impossible. King Morriganâs hunter is still behind us, and we have no hope of slipping back around him. Not on the bare expanse of the plains, where itâs impossible to hide. Besides, even if we miraculously made it back to Taladia, thereâs still a price on our heads â and itâs probably quadrupled since our assault on the kingâs airbase. Half the army will be on our trail. Weâd be shot before we made it five kilometres.
âWe canât,â I say. âItâs too dangerous. Thereâs ahunter behind us â and if he finds us, heâll kill us. We need your help.â
The man raises an eyebrow. âUpset your king, have you?â
âSomething like that.â
âWell, then,â he says, holstering the pistol at his hip, âmy nameâs Bastian, and Iâm a firestone scout for my clan. And Iâd say your best hope is to come with me.â
Firestone . The word jerks a memory forward: Tindraâs dying words, as she lay crumpled on the rocks.
I look at the others. We all share a moment of uncertainty, before the answer slips between us like a silent handshake. Itâs almost unnerving how well we understand each other now. My crew. My friends.
âDepends where youâre taking us,â I say.
âBack to Silent Peak,â Bastian says. âBack to my home. But weâve got a damn long way to walk before midnight, so Iâd say itâs best to hurry.â
âWhy?â
A breeze ruffles the clearing.
âBecause my village rests above the earth,â says Bastian. âAnd at midnight, the earth cannot be trusted.â
Bastian leads us from the sky, gliding overhead to mark our path. From down here, his foxhawk seems no more than a pair of enormous wings, silhouetted by the afternoon light.
âAre we sure about this?â Clementine says quietly. The scratches on her face and hands are drying now, but the lines of dark crimson look stark upon her pallid skin.
âWe could make a run for it,â Teddy says. âI mean, heâs basically riding an overgrown chicken-fox, right? I reckon we could ââ
âWe canât outrun it,â Lukas says. âTrust me.â
âOh, arenât you just an optimistic little ray of sunshine?â Clementine says.
Lukas raises an eyebrow. âIâve been inside itshead, Clementine. I know how its muscles move, how its wings can beat.â
We squint back up at the sky again, and I know heâs right. Those massive wings would sweep around in an elegant loop, and thereâd be claws and bullets at our backs before we knew what was coming.
âHis people might help us,â I say. âAnd that hunter would have a hard job sneaking up on us now â the foxhawkâd see him coming miles off.â
âBut he gave us the option to leave,â Clementine says. âTo return to Taladia. If we asked him nicely, perhaps heâd give us another chance to ââ
Maisy places a gentle hand on her arm. âClem, we canât go back. Not now.â
Clementine sucks down a harsh breath. Then