—
Everyone who could run did, including Roan. The Gilarabrywn was supposed to be on their side, but trust wasn’t one of Roan’s virtues. She’d spent a lifetime learning better ways to hide. Since the beast was three stories tall, had a wingspan of about ninety feet, teeth in excess of a foot long, and the newly revealed ability to breathe fire, Roan didn’t need any further incentive. When the Gilarabrywn landed in the courtyard, everyone scattered. She hadn’t seen Suri leave, but after all it was her creation.
The foolish had advanced to attack it.
Not foolish, Roan decided. They’re brave. They just don’t know what they’re doing.
After getting far enough away for comfort, Roan turned. She’d never seen a Gilarabrywn in daylight. Scales she had remembered as black were more a dark green. They glistened like metal—acted like it, too. Swords and spears did nothing, and Fhrey soldiers died, crushed or devoured. Oblivious and terrified, some of the men attacked as well. The beast ignored them the way a big dog might act with a bratty toddler. There was still danger. The Gilarabrywn was huge and powerful. Every movement brought havoc. A swish of its tail demolished walls, crushing those nearby. The flip of its wings raised a dust storm that blinded and choked.
There were only two exits out of the courtyard—one down a stair through the rubble to the city, and the other up a stair toward the big domed building that led toward the Kype. Roan ran for the safety of the Kype. She had hoped to join Persephone, Brin, and Moya, but the big dome had collapsed, making passage through the rotunda impossible. Now, the only way up was the narrow stairs that led around. Going that way was slow and jammed with people. Those trapped at the base were being slaughtered.
There has to be a better way.
I could hide.
As she looked around for a crevice to crawl into, another Fhrey soldier spotted her alone and in the open. She caught the glint of a smile on his face—that same Iver-smile she’d seen so many times in the past. This one—who still had a helm that was made to look like the head of a bear—was drenched in blood, a lavish splatter that added crimson to the copper-hued armor as it beaded on the surface, running down in tears.
He walked toward her.
She walked away, hoping he wasn’t really interested in her.
He started jogging.
She ran.
The stair leading up was a deathtrap, and hiding was no longer possible, so Roan started toward the beast, hoping it would know who she was. But at that moment, the Gilarabrywn flew off. This left only one option—the stairs down to the city. That way was disturbingly empty.
This is not a good idea. This is not a good idea. This is not a good idea.
“Shut up, I’m trying to concentrate!” she yelled at herself. “Can’t you see I’m running down steps?”
Reaching the bottom, she found the streets to the city blocked by rubble. Roan had no choice but to follow the path to the lower courtyard, which, like the upper, had been pummeled to pebbles. She had a good start on the Fhrey. He was halfway across the yard when they began the race, and he was slowed by armor, a sword, and shield.
Maybe he’s given up and gone after easier prey?
She didn’t bother to look, though, didn’t need to; Roan heard the clap of shoulder plates behind her.
When she hit the lower courtyard, Roan took advantage of the open field and sprinted hard. Her only hope was distance. Rabbits survived by becoming too much effort to chase, and Roan planned to be one bothersome bunny. For the first time, she regretted her tool belt. The many utensils slowed her down as they flapped and swung.
Bodies were everywhere, human and Fhrey lying side by side. She tried not to look at the faces, didn’t want to see someone she knew.
Roan ran past the Speech Rock, heading toward the only open route available—the front gate, or what was left of it. Somewhere in the depths of her desperate mind she saw it as salvation, a finish line, a point of escape, even though there was no door to close, no brace to throw, no wall to hide behind, and the enemy army had its camp on the far side of the gorge. In reality, there were just two big bronze gates lying on the ground beside the residue of a stone wall, but a goal was a goal.
Leaving the fortress is a really, really, really bad idea.
“Shut up!”
Behind her, the Fhrey let out a grunt. He was still after her and closer than ever.
Roan felt her legs growing tired. Worse, she was having trouble breathing. She just couldn’t pull in enough air.