Again Laidan tried to undo the knot. She was clumsy and slow. Time seemed to stretch forever and Garan was so tense he could hardly breathe. Just when he felt a loosening of his ties she cried out.
“Wing dust! I’m half-naked!”
“I know,” he said under his breath as he worked the ropes free and wiggled his fingers to bring back feeling. Grimacing through the pain throbbing into his hands, he did his best to massage them while looking around the room for something to aid their escape.
The sounds of smashing and breakage were drawing closer. It seemed someone was desperate enough to ransack the house even while it was ablaze. They represented just as much danger as Lenk. Regaining the use of his hands he bent to untie his ankles. When he was done he said, “Now—we leave.”
“But I need some clothes.” Laidan tied the robe around her waist and held the collar together at the neck.
“We don’t have time now. I have a spare set of clothes in my pack.”
“You do? And where is your pack?”
“I don’t know. I was wearing it when they clobbered me.”
“That was you they brought in last night, wasn’t it? I didn’t realize. They dropped you here somewhere.”
Wondering if the pack could still be there, Garan’s hopeful gaze roamed the floor. He paced to the corner and then near the doors. He saw it under a table. He lunged for it and quickly checked the contents—everything seemed to be within. He took off his cloak, rolled it up and stuffed it inside. No point in wearing it in the river. “You can change later though. First we must get out of here.”
He ran over to the window and looked down. “Through here. ’Tis not that far down. I can see a foothold a bit further on. If we use the rope they used to tie me up with I think we will make it. From there we go over the covered walkway to the pier.” He left out the details about the flames issuing from the windows and possible attack from rebel or Lenk’s forces. No need to make the girl hysterical—he was concerned about her state of mind already. He looked out the window again, and while the flames didn’t appear to be directly in their path, the situation could alter in an instant with a change in the wind. It was full dark now, but unfortunately the cover of night was lost to them for the fire lit up the sky. All they could hope for was that the general chaos below and the occasional cloud of smoke would cover their escape.
“Can you see the window, Laidan?”
“Yes, I think so. How will I get down?”
“Trust me. Listen to my voice.”
Laidan wrung her hands. “Trust you? How can I do that? I remember what happened last time we met.”
He cringed. “I don’t think now is a good time to discuss that.” He stopped to cough. “You don’t have much choice and, believe me, I risked my life to rescue you. Won’t you cut me a little slack?”
Her bedazzled eyes were unsettling and visible.
“Laidan, we can discuss the cave incident later. You can berate me and scream at me all you want and I’ll apologize, but right now we have to go. I’ll carry you. And look, you had best close your eyes. Remember, keep them shut for they can be seen. Do you understand? They are glowing; the light that you see is visible to everyone.”
Laidan put a hand over her mouth. “No! But … but they’ll burn me as a witch. Garan, you must help me.”
“I am helping.” He fetched the rope and tied it to the leg of the settee. It wasn’t long but it would give him enough reach, he hoped. Garan helped Laidan hook the straps of his knapsack over her shoulders. Next he stood with his back to her. “Reach up and hold my shoulders firmly. Don’t let go and don’t hold my neck too tight. I do need to breathe.”
Without comment, she followed his instructions. Her fingers clawed into the flesh of his shoulders, but he bit back his gasp. It was far more difficult climbing out of the window than he had expected, but once he had balanced the weight on his back, he edged out onto the window ledge. Using the rope, he lowered them down to the ledge below, where they were quickly enveloped in thick smoke. He held his breath and edged sideways, leaving the rope behind. It was too short to serve them further. “Laidan, don’t worry. I have you. We are getting away.”
A whimper greeted his comforting words. He had to be grateful for that. At least she wasn’t spiraling into hysteria like she had when he had left her in the cave last time.
A cry from above startled him. As the smoke cleared he saw Lenk and his lover, Tuan, on the recessed balcony one floor above, pointing to them. “Get them!” Lenk called to his men.
Garan sped up, recklessly leaping to the next level down, relying only on his strength to halt their fall. Laidan didn’t so much as squeak, but her arms squeezed tight and her legs clung to his hips.
Pfft, pfft, pfft. Arrows pinged off the wall. One nearly pierced his hand. He worried for Laidan, who was vulnerable on his back, but he knew he needed to keep moving. One more leap and he was on the roof of the walkway, which creaked under their weight. Laidan put her feet down and let go of him. “Lie down,” he whispered to her, urging her to drop with a hand on her shoulder. Two more arrows whizzed past his head before he spread himself against the roof next to her. Garan took a moment to take stock of the fighting around them. The attention of Lenk’s forces appeared to be directed elsewhere. While Lenk was under attack, he would be less focused on their escape. Garan could hear the shouting, hear the ping of arrows and the crash of swords. Then there was another explosion. By the sounds of it, Lenk was facing a much larger force. Sizing up their situation, Garan was convinced the river was their only chance.
“Laidan, we have to make a dash for the river—”
“But…”
“I’m going to carry you on my back, all right? When I say go, jump up and hold tight.”
He saw Laidan nod and climb onto her hands and knees in readiness. He crouched, bracing himself. “Go!”
When she climbed onto his back, he grabbed her legs and piggybacked her as far as he could, praying that no arrow would find purchase in either of their hides and that the roof would not collapse under their weight.
The river was a dark tongue licking the end of the walkway. A spear shot up, causing Garan to stop and lose his balance. He dropped down, his knee breaking through the rooftop as Laidan fell off and rolled. He scrambled blindly for purchase on the roof as he reached for her.
“Laidan!”
He caught her wrist and stopped her roll, which would have seen her drop from the roof. “Don’t open your eyes. I’ve got you. Trust me, I won’t let you go.”
A few more spears flew over his head, clattering noisily on the roof before falling to the ground. “Can you crawl?”
She was trembling. “Mmm, yes. I think so.”
“I’ll lead you.” He levered his knee out of the hole in the roof. “Grab my foot. It’s by your hand.”
Bit by bit, they belly-crawled to the edge. With her eyes screwed shut, Laidan clutched his ankle, moving as he moved. He heard the distant thrum of a volley of arrows. Thickening smoke must have been hindering the archers’ aim as none landed on the roof. Perhaps they were busy elsewhere.
At the edge of the roof, Garan leaned down to check that the way was clear. An explosion vibrated around them; Garan thought the noise came from an attack at the front of the manor house. Laidan let out a whimper.
Before he could draw another breath, the storm front hit. A great gust of wind struck, dispersing smoke and replacing it with dust. Lightning lit the dark, churning clouds overhead, and Garan groaned.
“What is it?” Laidan asked, crawling up his back to hear his reply.
“The storm … not good,” he yelled back to her, the wind snatching his words from his mouth.
He thought he heard her moan. Another gust and Garan had to shut his eyes against the wind-borne debris.
“Quick. We have to move. Turn around and I’ll help you down.”
He lowered her to the ground and landed next to her. A quick look around told him that the pier was
gone. In the light of the fires and the flash of lightning, he could see there was broken wood and naked support stumps jutting out of the water. Planks bobbed in the river, tossed haphazardly by the current.
Loud jeers sounded to the right. Guards, rebels or Lenk’s, Garan didn’t know or care which, but he knew they were running out of time. He tipped Laidan and himself into the river, gripping her robe. He found a plank and latched onto it with his free hand. Laidan surfaced next to him, spluttering. Her eyes shone as she opened them.
“Close your eyes. Hold on to this,” he said, shoving another plank in front of her. Already the current had taken them away from the back of the manor house. Clinging to the floating wood, they kicked out into the center of the river and Garan turned his head to look back at the town. Already the storm-driven wind had fanned the flames beyond the manor house, and they were now consuming Vanden.
Garan swallowed water as he fought the current. It tasted like old oil and sewage. The thought made him retch. The river was more deadly than all of Lenk’s men, he thought ruefully. He clutched Laidan’s robe in his free hand, glad she could stay afloat by herself in the toss and tumble of the river current.
“If I lose hold of you, open your eyes. I should be able to see you,” he yelled into her ear. “If we get separated, cling to that wood and make for the riverbank. I’ll find you.”
The roar of the river and howling wind drowned out her reply.
Garan lost track of time as the storm raged around them, and was not sure how long they’d been in the water when the current suddenly wrenched Laidan’s robe from his grasp. He screamed her name, but if she heard him he didn’t know. Her silence caused his heart to ache. He could only hope that she was carried by the current in the same direction as he was. Clinging to his plank, Garan thought about all that had happened. He had never been so scared in his life. Life on Trithorn Peak had not prepared him for scenes such as those that had greeted him in Vanden. He knew it was lucky he had spent time in the caves near the observatory, had enjoyed the challenge of pitting himself against the dangers within. Perhaps those adventures had prepared him for this. He could only imagine how it must have been for Laidan.
As the chaos of Vanden town receded and the river’s grip lessened, Garan began to think of trying to reach the riverbank. Go ashore too soon and he’d be vulnerable to pursuit. Go too far and he ran the risk of making the trek back to Trithorn Peak longer and more difficult. Either way he would have to find Laidan before he did anything. Garan erred on the side of caution, staying longer in the river than was probably wise. Then, though it was hard to make any headway against the current, he began to steer himself toward the riverbank.
As time wore on he began to tire. He was desperate now to get out of the river. Shadowy shapes loomed near the river’s edge—trees and rocky outcrops, he hoped. “Laidan, I’m heading for the bank. If you can hear me, follow my voice.”
Summoning a last burst of energy he kicked closer to the bank and into the lee of an outcrop, where the current was weaker. After a couple of fierce, desperate kicks, he found purchase on a tree root freshly washed from the bank. Using it as leverage, he clawed his way onto the muddy edge, his knees slipping back into the river as he scrambled up. His foot found a lump of rock below the surface, and he was able to beach himself.
Breathless for a moment, he lay on his belly and hacked and coughed. Then, rolling over, he sat up, instantly searching for Laidan.
“Laidan. Laidan,” he called frantically over the wash of the river and the sound of the wind whipping through the branches overhead. The sky was very black, the dust-filled clouds blocking out all trace of stars and Belle moon and Shatterwing. “Laidan!” he called again, and listened. He was readying himself to jump back into the river and follow the current when he made out a pair of small lights. Laidan’s eyes.
“Here. Kick this way,” he called to her.
Treading along the bank to where she struggled to pull herself ashore, he saw her glowing eyes disappearing and reappearing. Garan leaned into the water and flailed about, seeking her outstretched hand. He finally dragged her onto the bank, listening to her pant and cough up murky river water.
“Thank the source, you are all right.”
“Whore-tits, Garan. You nearly got me killed.”
Garan stood stunned for a moment. Laidan had spent too much time on the streets with Thurdon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A Stone on which to Rest Her Head
Garan peered into the night-filled woods around them, his mind alert for danger, his heartbeat fast and hard. As they dared not remain in the open or so close to the river, they had to move.
“Come on,” he shouted. A clap of thunder drowned out his words as he tugged Laidan’s hand to urge her forward.
Snatching her arm back, she shouted into his face. “No!”
With his mouth close to her ear he said, “They are sure to follow us.”
Flicks of water from Laidan’s shaking head hit his face. “I can’t. Clothes. You must give me clothes.”
Drawing her away from the river’s edge by the elbow, he said, “Clothes? Did you say clothes?” He squinted into the dark and could barely see her. He reached out and touched the shivering, pale flesh of her shoulder through her now torn robe.
“I see … all right.” He groped along her back, hoping she still had the pack. There it was. With his help, she unslung it. Water tipped out when he laid it flat and opened it. His store of food was ruined. He fished out a small flagon of wine and unstoppered it, offering Laidan the first sip. While she drank he dug out his cloak, spare shirt and trousers. He wrung them out and handed her the shirt.
A flash of lightning revealed her thin white fingers clasping it. “Turn around,” she said, staring at him with glowing eyes. Shivering once, he turned away and waited, holding his spare breeches, wringing as much of the water from them as he could. She patted his shoulder and he passed the breeches to her. His cloak was heavy as he swung it over his shoulders.
“You can turn around now,” she said after a few moments. Garan took a sip of wine and secured it in his pack.
Laidan passed the breeches back. “They are too big for me. I’m swimming in this shirt already. I can use the sash from the robe to tie it. You should have let me dress before we left.”
“I didn’t think about the size difference at the time. My mind was on other things—like living!” he said with some heat.
“You’re right, I guess,” she relented. “Where do we go now?”
Surprised by her reasonableness, he squeezed her shoulder companionably. “I’ll get you home. Don’t worry.”
The surrounding trees had large finger-shaped roots that gripped the soft pungent mud of the riverbank. The leaves heaved and tossed around them as the storm pushed down. A few drops of rain landed on the ground, bringing a faint whiff of vinegar with them. A shiver of fear sped up Garan’s spine. “We need to find cover—fast. I don’t think the acid rain will wait until morning. Are you able to move?”
“Acid rain? What next?”
Garan said nothing but rounded up their gear, including Laidan’s discarded robe, and tried to get his bearings. He had no idea where they were, other than downriver from Vanden. To locate Trithorn Peak using the stars, he needed a clear sky. To sight the mountain visually, he needed daylight. There didn’t seem to be much choice but to head away from the river.
Branches over their heads creaked dangerously. He zigzagged through the trees to where there were fewer roots spearing up from the ground to hinder their passage. As they left the river behind the trees began to thin, though dropped twigs and branches snagged their footing and scratched their legs. After walking for what seemed like an hour, Garan thought he could see open ground ahead, but at that moment another drop of rain fell.
“It is starting to rain,” Laidan said, unable to disguise her raw panic.
“I know. It will be all right, but to be safe get under this.” He used the
remains of her robe to shelter them. Even though the fabric was flimsy, it would give them a few minutes more. They broke into a run.
Abruptly they arrived at the edge of the trees and were out in the open, leaving them exposed to the buffeting wind and stinging dust. Squinting against the wind-blown debris, Garan thought he saw darker shapes looming against the backdrop of murky sky. A bolt of lightning lit up the landscape, revealing a dark cave mouth ahead, ringed by large, stacked stones. A loud crack of thunder vibrated in his chest and blocked his ears for a few moments.
The raindrops grew fatter and fell faster, hitting the ground with loud splats. Grabbing Laidan by the elbow, he yelled, “Come on, this way.”
Laidan stumbled and he shifted his grip to her hand, dragging her along at a run behind him. Avoiding rocks and ditches as best he could, he aimed for the cave mouth, careful not to lose his way in the dark. Laidan clung to him, face buried in his neck to shelter from the stinging grit. Another flash of lightning lit up the sky, and Garan checked his direction on seeing the cave ahead. The rock formation seemed out of place, but he didn’t pause to think about it. He dived through the cave entrance, dragging Laidan with him as the rain began to bucket down behind them. A protruding rock gouged his abdomen and then Laidan landed on top of him, pushing the remainder of his breath from his lungs. While he struggled to draw breath, Laidan tried blindly to right herself.
“Garan?” The panic in her voice unnerved him, as did the eerie glow in her eyes.
“Here,” he answered, barely able to make a sound. “I’m here,” he repeated in a stronger voice.
“Are you all right? You sound strange.”
“’Tis nothing,” he replied. His gut felt like a burning hole in his middle. A few drops of rain worked their way down to drip against the rocks at the entrance. “We’d best move further in. The rain is entering here.”
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