CHAPTER 4

Flight-of-Thorns

Fin held tight to the railing, even as Ropebone wrapped a line around his waist, holding him tighter still. Serth hadn’t been kidding about the rapids. The Kraken surfed on a drizzle of water that ran down the outside of a stalactite hanging from the roof of a massive cavern. Remy pulled them into a spiraling path, looping around the stalactite fast enough to defy gravity—at least until they reached the big drop at the bottom.

Below them, Flight-of-Thorns Citadel hung like a great barbed bat from the ceiling of the enormous cavern. Bridges of narrow steel fanned out from it into the distant darkness. Even from up here, Fin could see that each one was secured by rows of gates, stockades, and checkpoints. He had a strong feeling there were no guardrails. Crossing through the barriers would be nearly impossible if you weren’t wanted.

Close to the Citadel, the bridges came together in a huge ring, itself joined to the main fortress by even narrower, more dangerous-looking bridges. Below them hung yet another ring, this one cupped and filled with Stream water. It was a hanging moat, Fin realized, that ensured anyone falling from the outer bridges wouldn’t be climbing back up ever again.

“The water running down this stalactite falls into the heart of the Citadel itself,” Serth shouted over the shrieking wind. “It’s how they get their drinking water. It is also, incidentally, the only unguarded way in.”

As they skidded closer, Fin caught sight of movement along the far bridges. He squinted, trying to get a better look, just as a belch of fire enveloped one of the guard posts. The bridge was alive with fighting and flame. The Citadel was under attack!

“What’s going on down there?” he shouted over the whoosh of the wind.

Serth looked back at him immediately. There was no confusion in his eyes—no moment of hesitation while he struggled to place Fin in his memory. Serth simply remembered him, just as he always had. As terrifying as the wizard was and as much as Fin missed Ardent, he had to admit that it was nice not being forgotten.

“I’m… not sure,” Serth admitted. The stony look on the wizard’s face faltered for just a moment. “I’m not used to being unsure.”

Fin felt a tug of sympathy as he gripped the rope tighter. It must have been difficult for Serth. Not long ago, he’d known the future, everything that would happen crammed into his head by the Stream water he drank. Now, all that was gone. He was back to normal. If that term had ever really applied to the wizard.

Then again, this was the same Serth who’d set free the Lost Sun of Dzannin. The same Serth who’d used the Wish Machine of Monerva to create the wish orb that transformed Ardent into the Master of the Iron Ship. In a sense, literally everything that had happened was his fault—up to and including the Iron Tide taking the Parsnickles. Fin could only feel so bad for him.

“Nearly at the bottom!” Remy shouted, breaking him out of the thought. “Get ready!”

Fin held on tight. The tip of the stalactite was just below them. And below it, nothing but empty space between them and the hanging Citadel. He looked to Marrill, who nodded, then back to Fig, who gave him a thumbs-up. Cold wind whipped at his hair. His struggled not to get dizzy as the ship’s spirals tightened.

“Ready,” he confirmed.