77

Stable

Wendy

Finn stood in front of me, his dark eyes full of fear in a way that I had never seen before.

We were in the tent, and even with all the chaos and spiders and screaming, time seemed to have slowed since he’d come running back to tell me we were trapped, like moths in a jar. He pulled me inside the tent, ostensibly to figure out what to do, but what could we do?

“We can’t leave, we can’t stay,” I said. “So we fight.”

“Wendy . . .” He shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know how to fight this. I can’t think of an option where we don’t all end up dead.”

My first thought was of my son, Oliver. He was back at the palace with my brother Matt, his wife, Willa, and their children. Safe, secure, loved. But if we didn’t find a way to stop the wyrm from eating the world, how long could Oliver or anyone be safe? Even in Förening?

I closed my eyes, picturing Oliver—his hair sandy like Loki’s, his eyes dark like mine, and a smile that lit up my world.

For him, I would do anything. Even the impossible.

“Underground.” I opened my eyes and everything seemed to be moving hyper fast. Bryn was fighting spiders at the far end of the tent. But I focused on Finn.

“The Älvolk live underground,” I said. “How do we get there?”

“Stables,” Pan said.

He was leaning on a cot behind me, his breath ragged. His curls were damp with sweat and blood, but based on the lime green color of the blood, it wasn’t his.

“What’d you say?” I leaned in closer to hear him better.

“The stables,” he answered. “You go through the stables at the center of the city, and it’ll take you underground.” Then he pointed toward the screaming going on near Bryn, by the entrance. “Sumi knows where to go.”

“Finn, go with Sumi,” I commanded. “Take the children and anyone you can with you.”

“What’ll you do?” Finn asked.

“I’m going to get everyone else going,” I said. “And you’re going to make a path for us.”

The wyrm roared again. Within minutes, the entire roof of the tent was on fire, but by then Finn was already gone, taking everyone he could with him. As ash rained down from above and the air clouded with smoke, I struggled to help Rikky, Patrik, and Pan get a large unconscious ogre onto a makeshift stretcher.

Pan and I got in front, carrying the cot backward, with Rikky and Patrik bringing up the rear. It was slow going with all the weight and stepping over the carnage. The heat from the flames was overwhelming and sweat dripped into my eyes.

Then, with a loud whoosh, the half-burnt tarp above us collapsed down on us. It was heavy and hot, like a smoldering weighted blanket. I tried to tear through the tarp, but it wouldn’t give and the fire burned my fingers.

I coughed as smoke filled my lungs, and a blade tore through the leather and a hand reached in. It took mine, strong and rough, and Loki pulled me free. He scooped me up in his arms, and I wrapped mine around his neck, and he ran through the burning remnants of the tent.

“You saved my life,” I said hoarsely.

“I figured it was time I returned the favor.” He set me down once we were far enough away, and brushed the silver lock of hair from my eyes. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. “I’ll live.”

A grunting sound from the tent caused us both to look over to see Pan dragging Rikky out of the fire. Loki rushed away to help them, and I collapsed to the ground on my knees, coughing and trying to breathe.

Loki carried Rikky over—her left leg was bloody and burnt, and she seemed dazed. Pan staggered over and collapsed beside me, coughing hard.

“What about Patrik?” I asked. “And the ogre.”

Pan shook his head. “They didn’t make it.”

Tears stung my burning eyes when I asked him, “Can you show us the way down?”