I don’t wait for her reply to him. I don’t want to know. I just mount up and, taking the lead, let them hash it out in their snappy sibling way while I hurry us along toward the ridge that gives way to views stretching from the valleys of Faelen to the Sea of Elisedd.
When we get close, I swear the ocean sparkles and sings my name with salt breezes that stimulate my tongue. Clouds drift in with the wind, moseying their way toward us, and toward the small fortress I assume is the Keep, which is jutting up through the smoke and fog about a terrameter below. With three buildings, a courtyard, and an exterior wall made of stone, it’s carved right into the mountainside—gray like the dulling afternoon sky and topped with shake shingles crusted with snow. The Fendres Passage splays out like a string far below it, spanning from the Litchfell Forest east of us, through the mountains and out to touch the open sea.
Beyond that are the ships. Bron’s. Ours. Covered in such a shroud of smoke that it’s impossible to tell which is which. And above those fly the airships—I can hear them clearly now—droning like murderous gnats, making their way in an advancing column toward the pass and Faelen.
The closest airship pushes through a cloud not far from us and my mouth goes dry. It’s enormous. Like a tin castle floating beneath a giant, rippling pale balloon that is the size of Adora’s house, with insect-larvae-like wrinkles and a huge dragon painted on the side. Even Colin’s breath seems to catch at the sight. The monstrosity it’s carrying looks like a metal tube with pipes and gears and a bladed thing that appears to propel it forward. And underneath—the bomb.
The closer it moves, the more it stirs the air, sending wisps of eeriness up from the fortress.
I shudder.
There’s something dark down there. Another presence. More insidious even than the Bron army.
The thought emerges that the unseen things that haunt this world have taken residence here, and it would only take one rip in the atmosphere to release them. A form of evil colliding with the skin of our Hidden Lands. Seeking to soil and own it.
A wolf howls in the distance, and the minstrels’ songs about Draewulf slip into mind. Colin’s horse shies. Even Haven gives a slight tremble.
Colin gulps and looks at me. He feels it too.
Let’s just get this over with.
I peer at the fortress, at the tiny men roaming around it like ants, and imagine it going up in flames. Poof.
Just. Like. That.
I lift my arm and it shakes. I don’t want to do this.
Use killing as a last resort, Eogan’s voice whispers in my chest.
I try to ignore it. This is different. There’s something wrong with this place.
Colin stretches out his hand and the earth rumbles.
My chest flinches.
Curses.
I move my fingers over to stop Colin’s. “What if we can halt the war without killing them?”
“What?” Both he and Breck turn in my direction.
“What if I can get to the fortress and find another way to stop them?” I hate the words even as they’re coming out of my mouth. I don’t want to go down there, but I also can’t bear the guilt.
“Are you jesting? You want us to go down there? That place is crawling!”
“Not you, just me.”
“Stop bein’ an idiot,” Breck says. “Just do what yer suppose’ to.”
“Nym, your ability doesn’t protect you,” Colin says. “Those men’ll kill you in a heartbeat.”
“I won’t get caught. I’ll be quick, and if I’m wrong, then I’ll come back and we’ll do what Adora asked.”
He stares at me as if this is the worst idea I’ve mentioned in his history of knowing me.
“Look, if we’re going to take a bunch of lives, I need to be sure it’s the only way. I have to live with mysel—”
“You’re not ’ere to investigate!” Breck explodes. “You’re ’ere to obey the order you’ve been given! How dare you think—”
“Breck,” Colin says firmly. He turns and chews his lip at me. “I know you. Once you see the person you’re supposed to kill, you won’t be able to, Nym.”
“Exactly!” Breck murmurs.
I ignore her and keep my gaze on Colin. “I promise you, I will do what needs to be done when the time comes.”
His gaze is worried. For me. For my safety. I can see it in the flexing of his brow.
“Please. I need this.”
His sigh is slow. But when he utters it, I know I’ve won.
It’s followed by a grin. “You’re lucky I like you, storm girl.”
I reward him with my own sad smile. “Thanks. If I’m not back by dark, take the fortress down anyway.”
CHAPTER 31
ONCE WE FREE THE HORSES, IT’S A SWEATY, hour-long descent down a treacherous goat path, which Colin maneuvers with ease even as he’s angrily shifting dirt around to help Breck. His fury at her insistence on coming with us just about matches her mood at me, making the already-painful hike even more awkward.
I bite my lip.
Stay above and demolish a fortress of men I’ve never met.
Or drag my friends closer to danger . . .