He turned and ran, not toward the thing crouched over Kitai, but past it, around several glowing trees and to the one they had set on fire. Keepers crowded in all around him. He could hear them coming through the forest toward him, shrieks and whistles resounding.
Tavi leapt up to the lowest branches of the tree, hauling himself into them and started scrambling toward the top, toward the fire. Halfway there, he hauled himself up and found himself face-to-face with a Keeper, which reared back from him in surprise, its mandibles clacking against its shell.
Tavi didn’t have time to think. His hand flashed to where he’d put Fade’s wickedly curved knife at his belt. He slashed it at the creature’s eyes. It scuttled back from him. Tavi followed it, wriggling forward, thrusting the knife at the thing’s face.
The Keeper let out a shriek and fell backward, out of the tree, its limbs flailing. It hit the ground twenty feet below with a crunch and a wet-sounding splat, and Tavi looked down to see it writhing on its back, legs flailing, its broken body trailing glowing fluids out onto the forest floor.
Tavi heard more Keepers coming. He hauled himself up higher into the tree, until he reached a branch bare of the croach, slender and unable to support his weight. Farther out along the branch hung the burning blanket. Fire spread along it, toward the trunk of the tree.
Tavi hacked at the branch with the knife, the steel biting into the soft wood. Then he gripped the knife in his teeth and hauled at the branch with both hands.
It swayed and then broke, peeling away from the tree. Tavi scrambled down, trailing the long branch with its flaming leaves, the oil-soaked blanket, and when he had reached the forest floor, he ran toward Kitai.
The thing crouched over her saw him coming and turned toward him with a hiss, its mandibles spreading wide, along with its chitinous arms. Though its eyes glittered and reflected the light of the fire from a thousand facets, it had a horribly slime-covered, unfinished look to it, as though it hadn’t finished becoming whatever it was to be. Half-born, half-alive, the huge wasp-thing rattled its wings in a furious buzzing sound and whistled to the Keepers around them.
Tavi screamed and swung the branch in a broad, clumsy arc, fire trailing.
The thing hissed and drew back from the flames, jerking its wings back sharply.
Tavi seized on the advantage, shoving forward with the branch and driving the hissing monstrosity back from Kitai’s still form. The girl lay, pale and silent, her eyes open but unmoving, her chest heaving in labored breaths. Tavi slipped an arm beneath her and, in a rush of terror, hauled her up onto his shoulder. He staggered beneath her weight, but grasped the branch and spun about, wildly swinging the blazing wood and leaves and blanket about him.
The creature leapt lightly away from him, landing on the wall several yards down from the ropes, horrible eyes focused intently on him.
Oh crows, Tavi thought. It knows. It knows I’m going for the ropes.
If he didn’t move, he was finished. Even if the creature didn’t leap on him, he would shortly be drowning in Keepers. Even his terrified strength was beginning to fade, his body to burn under all the effort. He had to get Kitai to the ropes, at least. He could tie her foot and Doroga could haul her up.
Doroga. Tavi looked up to the top of the cliff and saw Doroga’s pale form there, staring down at them. Then the Gargant headman shouted, “Courage, valleyboy!” and vanished back over the lip of the cliff.
There was still a chance. Shoving the branch in front of him along the ground, he rushed toward the creature, which scuttled nimbly up the wall, a crablike sideways motion. Tavi looked above it, to an outcropping of rock. No good. He had to get it to move toward him, toward the ropes.
Tavi ground his teeth in frustration on the blade of the knife. “Oh furies, Kitai. I hope this works.” Gracelessly, he dumped the girl onto the ground, then leapt toward and grabbed the nearest rope and started climbing.
The creature let out a whistle and scuttled toward him. He knew that he did not have a chance of escaping it, or of fighting it, there on the ropes, but he took the knife from his teeth and swiped it at the thing.
It paused, hesitating just out of his reach. Its horrible head tilted, as though assessing this new threat.
“Doroga!” Tavi screamed. “There it is, there it is!”
From above came a slow and tortured scream, bellowing in Doroga’s basso, filled with anger and defiance.
Tavi would never have believed that a man could lift a boulder that large. But Doroga appeared at the top of the cliff again, bearing a stone the size of a coffin over his head, arms and shoulders and thighs bulging with effort. He flexed the whole of his body, a ponderous motion, and the huge stone hurtled down toward the creature.
Its head abruptly whirled on its neck, whipping around to face directly behind it. The creature moved, its wings buzzing, but it was not fast enough to wholly escape the plummeting stone. It flashed by Tavi, missing him by the breadth of a few fingers. The creature leapt away from the wall, but the stone crushed against it, sending it spinning out of the air to land on the ground many yards away. The stone itself hit the ground and shattered, chips of rock flying, glowing slime from within the croach hurled into the air as from a fountain.
Hot pain flashed along Tavi’s leg, and he looked down to see his trousers cut by a flying piece of stone, blood on his leg. From above came Doroga’s defiant howl of triumph, a bellowing roar that shook the walls of the chasm.
The creature let out another whistle, this one higher, filled with fury and, Tavi thought, with sudden fear. It staggered but could not rise and instead began dragging itself back into the trees, as the glowing eyes of dozens of Keepers began to appear behind it.
Tavi dropped the knife, slid down the rope, and ran to Kitai. He seized her and began dragging her back toward the ropes, grunting with effort but moving quickly, jerking her over the ground.
“Aleran,” she whispered, opening her eyes. Her expression was pained, weary. “Aleran. Too late. Venom. My father. Tell him I was sorry.”
Tavi stared down at her. “No,” he whispered. “Kitai, no. We’re almost out.”
“It was a good plan,” she said.
Her head lolled to one side, eyes rolling back.
“No,” Tavi hissed, suddenly furious. “No, crows take you! You can’t!” He reached into his pouch, fumbling through it as tears started to blur his vision. There must be something. She couldn’t just die. She couldn’t. They were so close.
Something stuck sharply into his finger, and pain flashed through him again. The crows-eaten mushroom had jabbed him with its spines. The Blessing of Night.
Fever. Poison. Injury. Pain. Even age. It has power over them all. To our people, there is nothing of greater value.