16

The crackle of flames grew louder, and smoke seeped into the cellar. Pirra’s heart hammered in her chest. If she stayed down here, she would die.

The hatch above her head felt hot, and when she pushed, it didn’t budge. She pushed harder. No use. She fought the urge to scream. She’d prayed to the Goddess to hide her—but whatever concealed the hatch was now shutting her in.

“Pirra, it’s over!” Telamon’s voice was muffled; he must have fled to the courtyard. “Tell me where you are and I’ll save you!”

Pirra pictured him standing triumphant in the snow—and her panic turned to cold hard rage. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Telamon? Then you could show me off as your captive and make all Keftiu bow before you. Well, I’m not some weasel in a hole, I’m the daughter of Yassassara—and I beg no man for help.

“Pirra, come out!” yelled Telamon. “It’s not worth dying!”

Gritting her teeth, Pirra groped for the hammer and wedge she’d hidden near the water pipe. She would make one last attempt to dig herself out. She’d rather die trying than give in to the Crows.

The wedge was where she’d left it, stuck in the joint between two stones edging the hole. She hit the wedge as hard as she could, and one of the stones rocked. She struck again and again—kicked, pulled, hammered. Couldn’t work it free.

“Pirra, this is madness!” shouted Telamon.

With rising panic, she kept going. Suddenly the stone moved by itself. Then someone yanked it out, a hand reached through and grabbed her wrist, and she heard a hoarse whisper. “Pirra! It’s me!”

To Hylas’ relief, Pirra didn’t waste an instant asking how he’d found her. The Crows might appear at any moment.

The first stone had doubled the size of the hole, which made it easier to get at the next. In frantic silence they attacked it together, Hylas digging and levering with a stick, Pirra hammering from inside. At last the stone jolted free. With both feet, Hylas kicked in another one—and before he could help her, she’d wriggled through.

Seizing her hand, he half dragged her up the slope. The wind helped, hiding them in choking smoke as they scrambled from bush to bush. But it would hide the Crows too.

At last they reached the boulders below the waterfall, where Hylas had hidden to spy out the sanctuary. Pirra leaned against a rock, bent double, with her hands on her knees. For the first time, he got a good look at her. He was shocked. Her face was gray and painfully thin, with dark-blue shadows under her eyes. She didn’t look strong enough to make it up to the ridge, let alone trek across a mountain.

“Are you all right?” he panted.

“No,” she snapped, suddenly a lot more like herself. “I’ve had fever, I’m weak as a cat. And I’ve lost my sealstone,” she added, staring in horror at a bloody scratch on her wrist.

He snorted. “Well, you can’t go back for it now.”

“I know that,” she retorted.

He flashed her a grin—which she didn’t return. It was taking all her resolve just to stay standing.

Below them, the roof of Taka Zimi collapsed with a crash, and orange flames shot skyward. Through the smoke, Hylas glimpsed warriors searching the ground near the walls. Soon they would find Pirra’s escape hole and pick up their trail.

Hylas thought fast. Returning the way he’d come would mean a long, steep climb past the waterfall and onto the ridge. Even if Pirra managed it, she’d never outrun the Crows. There had to be another way . . .

“Let’s go,” he said. “If we head down the other side of this slope, we’ll come to a gorge. There’s a bridge. When we’re across, we’ll cut it; that’ll give us a good day’s lead.”

Under cover of the smoke, they started off, stumbling between the pines toward where Hylas reckoned the gorge must be—although in this smoke, it was hard to tell. Trees and boulders loomed out of the haze, but no Crow warriors. Which didn’t mean they weren’t close behind.

To his relief, the pines thinned—and there was the gorge, with the bridge just a few paces away.

“That’s not a bridge,” panted Pirra, “that’s a rope!”

“It’s a bridge,” said Hylas. “One for the feet, two for the hands. But we need to go barefoot.” Already he was yanking off his boots and tying them around his neck.

“I can’t do it,” she said. “I—”

“You can. Quick, take off your boots and tie them round your neck.”

After an instant’s hesitation, she did, although he could see that she didn’t think she’d make it across.

“The trick is to keep moving,” he told her, “but don’t rush and don’t look down.”

The “bridge” was braided rawhide, lashed on this side to three wind-battered pines and on the other to a clump of sturdy oaks. It was maybe twenty paces long, and the drop to the bottom was stomach-churning. One wrong move and they’d be splattered all over the rocks.

“Will it take both our weights?” muttered Pirra.

“Yes,” said Hylas, although he was far from sure. Blessing Periphas for his gift of rope, he tied one end around his waist and the other around Pirra’s, leaving a couple of arm-spans’ slack between, so they could move independently.

Pirra was shaking her head. “If we’re tied together and I fall, I’ll take you with me.”

“No you won’t, I’ll hang on somehow.”

To prevent further protest, he grasped both hand ropes at shoulder height and stepped onto the footrope. All three were strung so taut that they barely sagged: thank the gods that these Keftians knew what they were doing.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he said over his shoulder, “and don’t look down.”

The bridge held firm, but swayed alarmingly in the wind gusting up from below, and behind him Pirra wobbled so badly that she nearly tipped them both upside down. Somehow, they managed to keep going, and the oaks on the other side drew nearer.

Once, Hylas glanced around. Pirra’s face was set, and she was staring fixedly over his shoulder. He didn’t speak in case he put her off.

They were a few paces from safety when shouts rang out behind, and an arrow hissed past Hylas’ ear. His mind reeled. High above the gorge, they were easy targets. Or maybe the Crows would cut the ropes and send them plummeting to their deaths.

The same thought had occurred to Pirra; the rope around his waist jerked as she halted, and he fought to stay upright. “Keep moving!” he told her. “We’re nearly there!”

“It’s no use running, Hylas!” shouted a voice behind him.

Now it was Hylas who lurched. That voice was Telamon’s.

Over Pirra’s head, Hylas glimpsed his erstwhile friend at the edge of the gorge, nocking another arrow to his bow. Warriors ran up to support him. Hylas quickened his pace, hating the fact that Pirra was behind him and he could do nothing to shield her from their arrows.

One struck an oak directly ahead; more bounced off the rocks. Hylas leaped for solid ground—staggered—then grabbed a branch of the oak and spun around to hold Pirra if she fell.

She was nearly at the edge, but now on the far side, Hylas saw Telamon shoulder his bow and start across the bridge. Hylas whipped out his axe to cut the footrope—but Pirra was still on it. “Hurry! ” he urged her.

Her foot slipped. He pulled the rope taut about her waist as she fought to steady herself.

The wind whipped Telamon’s long dark hair about his face, but still he came on. Then Kreon—Kreon, the tyrant of Thalakrea—moved right to the edge and drew back his bowstring to take aim at Pirra.

Suddenly a dark bolt hurtled out of the clouds and swept past Kreon’s head. The Crow Chieftain faltered. So did Pirra. “Echo,” she cried. “You came back!”

“Pirra, come on!” yelled Hylas.

The next instant she staggered to safety—and Hylas brought down his axe on the footrope.

The rawhide resisted, but Telamon lurched and nearly fell.

“Telamon, turn back and get off the bridge!” warned Hylas. “I don’t want to kill you, but I will if you take another step!”

Telamon took another step.

Hylas hacked at the rope. Telamon’s face worked in fury, but he saw that Hylas meant it, and made his way back to solid ground. A heartbeat later, Hylas struck the rope and it snapped. With Crow arrows hissing and clattering around him, he used the oaks for cover and cut one of the hand ropes, then ran to help Pirra, who was sawing at the other with her knife.

On the far side of the gorge, Telamon lifted his sword to the sky. “You can’t get away from me, Outsider!” he roared, his face twisted with rage. “I swear by the Angry Ones and by the dagger of Koronos that I will hunt you down, I will feed your carcass to the dogs!”

For a moment they faced each other across the void. Then Hylas cut the last rope and sent it hurtling into the gorge.