The Elves of Cintra (Book 2 of The Genesis of Shannara)

“The street’s up there, and right across from that, the freeway.” Sparrow took his arm. “C’mon, let’s get to where we’re going and be done with it.”


She practically raced up the steps, leaving Panther to either watch or follow. He chose the latter, hurrying to catch up, taking the stairs two at a time. Their shoes padded against the metal, and once or twice Panther’s prod clanged against the sides of the escalator. Too much noise, he chided himself. But he didn’t hear the Croaks anymore, so maybe it didn’t matter. He watched the steps recede beneath his feet and found himself wondering how escalators worked, back when they did work. How did those steps fold up and flatten out and return to shape like that? Fixit would know. He shook his head. Must have been something to watch.

They crested the stairs and moved across an open space to a set of wide double doors that opened into the lobby of another hotel. The lobby stretched away through gloom and shadows to a wall of broken-out glass windows and a pair of ornate doors that were closed against the world. Old furniture filled the lobby, most of it torn apart and tipped over. Fake plants lay fallen on their sides, still in their pots, dusty and gray, strange corpses with spindly limbs. Bits and pieces of metal glittered on railings and handles, but the rust was winning the battle here, too.

He was starting across the lobby toward the doors when Sparrow grabbed his arm. “Panther,” she whispered.

He glanced over quickly, the way she spoke his name an unmistakable warning. She was looking up at the balcony that encircled the lobby.

Dozens of Croaks were looking down.

“I don’t believe this!” Panther muttered.

The Croaks began shuffling along the railing, their strange, twisted faces barely visible in the gloom, their bodies hunched over.

There didn’t seem to be any of them on the lobby level, but by now Panther was looking everywhere at once, his prod held ready for the inevitable attack.

“We have to get to the doors,” Sparrow hissed at him. “We have to get outside again.”

She had that much right, even if she’d gotten everything else wrong. Panther started toward the doors, turning this way and that as he did, searching the darkness, watching for movement. Overhead, the Croaks had reached the stairs and were coming down, the sounds of grunting and growling clearly audible. Too many of them to be stopped if they attacked, Panther knew.

If they trapped Sparrow and him in that lobby…He didn’t bother finishing the thought. He gave it another two seconds, measuring their chances, then yelled, “Run!”

They broke for the doors and almost instantly a Croak appeared right in front of them, seemingly out of nowhere. Panther jammed his prod into the creature’s midsection and gave it a charge that knocked it backward, twitching and writhing. Others were surfacing all around them, come out of the shadows in which they had been hiding, so many of them that Panther felt his courage fail completely. He hated Croaks. He had seen what they could do.

He didn’t want to die this way.

He howled in challenge, a way to hold himself together, and with Sparrow next to him leapt for the double doors that led to the street. The Croaks were too slow to stop them. They gained the doors, and Panther shoved down hard on the handles.

Locked.

Without hesitating, he grabbed Sparrow’s arm and pulled her toward the largest of the broken-out windows. Sweeping his prod around the frame to clear out the fragments of glass, he shoved her through to the street, then dove after her without turning to look back at what was breathing down his neck.

Claws ripped at his clothing, slowing but not stopping him. Twisting, he broke away and tumbled out onto the concrete.

He was back on his feet instantly, turning to run. But more Croaks had appeared in front of them, come from inside the hotel or from across the street or maybe from the sky—who knew? He screamed at them, rushing to the attack. What else could he do? Sparrow was next to him, her pale face intense, her prod swinging like a club, electricity leaping off the tip as it raked the Croaks.

They fought like wild things, but both of them already knew that it wouldn’t be enough.