Whyborne
I screamed as I fell. My fingers clawed at nothing, my legs flailed for purchase that couldn’t be found. I was falling, and I was going to die, and—
Something vast and dark passed beneath me.
I struck it, hard, but the gelatinous surface yielded beneath the impact. The wings folded up, and we dropped a heart stopping distance, before the umbra straightened again.
Dazed, I clung to the back of the umbra that had swooped in to save me. “Mother of Shadows?” I whispered, and for the first time wished I could actually communicate with them. Had whatever masters shaped both our races made certain we couldn’t speak to one another, and so collude against them?
Definitely a thought for another time. I clutched at the umbra’s—skin? surface?—but there was no handhold, no hair or protrusion to grip. It seemed to realize my predicament, flattening itself as much as possible even as it sliced through the air. I caught a dizzying glimpse of the city—then we were rising up, toward the temple.
A shudder ran through it abruptly. I raised my face from its reeking ebony surface, got a confused glimpse of the temple, of Griffin and Turner standing upon it, and the new-hatched queen coiling behind.
“Griffin,” I gasped. The umbra bucked, hard. I grabbed wildly, but my fingers found only slick skin. I slid free and fell—
My body hit one of the ramps leading to the temple, only a few feet below. Pain spiked through my hip and shoulder, but nothing seemed broken as I rolled onto my back.
“Whyborne!” Jack ran to me hand outstretched. “You’re alive!”
“I can hardly believe it myself,” I agreed. I had the feeling I’d curl into a ball if I dwelled too long on my narrow escape, so I said, “Griffin—we have to save him!”
“He thought you were dead. I tried to stop him, but he was determined to confront Turner.” For the first time I noticed Jack’s bruised and split lip. “I meant to follow him, but the umbra came at me, and—and then you fell off.”
“Follow me.” I raced up the ramp, ignoring the twinge in my leg. I’d expended all of the arcane energy I’d stolen from the seals, and briefly wished I’d withheld something to use against Turner and the queen he’d enslaved.
To the devil with that. I’d be damned if I let a two-bit sorcerer like Turner, a reject of the blasted Endicotts, best me.
I gained the top of the platform, and my heart leapt, because Griffin was still on his feet. Behind him writhed the malformed coils of the newly emerged queen. Her orange eye glowed like flame, the three pupils contracting at different rates, giving her a hideously asymmetrical appearance. The lone plinth jutted up between them, its surface curved, as if to receive some object.
And in front of them was Turner. Or rather, the shredded coat and melted bones that were all which remained.
Had Griffin distracted him, while the umbra came in from behind? My heart pounding, I shouted, “Griffin!” and started toward him.
But when he turned, I froze in my tracks.
His head tilted slightly to one side, as if he couldn’t quite see me. His eyes had washed from emerald to green frost, the pupils contracted to pinpoints.
Did the Mother of Shadows manage to possess him at this distance?
“Alone,” he grated, and his hands curled into loose fists. “There is nothing left but pain and death.”
The remaining umbrae swirled madly. A rifle shot rang through the air as one sank toward the roof of a building not far from the balcony. Another made for Christine’s perch. Smoke rose into the air, but the protective flames no longer burned. What had happened to Iskander?
“Griffin,” I whispered. But in his eyes I saw no recognition at all.