Holly swung her club hard, wincing, closing her eyes at the last instant and aiming for a point behind his ear. The impact jarred through her hands and up her arms, and her own cry was almost as loud as the man’s. He shouted again, with pain and shock combined. Holly stepped back.
The man was still standing, one hand grasping his ear. Blood seeped between his fingers, and he worked his jaw as if he was trying to say something. But no words emerged. His eyes became unfocused, and as Holly raised the chair leg again he sank slowly back against the table, his free hand reaching around to slow his fall.
‘Sorry,’ Holly said. ‘I’m sorry.’ She shoved him away from the table and he sprawled across the floor, groaning softly and with his right hand still pressed to his head. She snatched up his crossbow and ran for the heavy curtain.
Beyond it was a short, narrow corridor, with several heavy wooden doors set in its wall. It was lit with a string of electric lights – the first she had seen other than those in the casting room – and at its end was a heavy metal door.
Oh fuck oh shit it’s locked and I’m trapped and he’ll get to me before the others and beat me and—
But when she grabbed the handle and turned it she heard tumblers roll inside the lock mechanism. It was only bolted. Pulling back three bolts, she tugged the door open and smelled a rush of fresh air, only noticing at the last moment that there was a periscope viewing device set in an alcove beside the door.
Should have checked, Holly thought. But she was rushing headlong now, and to pause would be to lose momentum. If there were furies out here, she would have to fight her way past them, outrun them, or shoot them in the head with the crossbow. She glanced at the weapon and realised that she had little idea how to work it. But she could not leave it behind.
Holly shoved the door closed behind her, and realised that it was night outside. The moon was almost full, a silvery smear against the dusty sky. And, for the life of her, she had no idea which direction to take from here.
The breeze whispered through stiff bushes and it was as if the laws of acoustics were different here. Holly’s footfalls kicked up that scent of almost-heather and the darkness hid the differences between here and her own world from sight. Made them even more threatening.
She ran along the shallow valley floor, trying to keep to shadows where she could, even though the moon’s illumination was weak. They’re not clouds, she thought, glancing up every few seconds at the smear of moonlight. It looked as if the moon had been crushed and smeared across the heavens, and she wondered how heavy the dust layers high in the atmosphere must be to give that effect. Plants still grew and people still lived, and she’d seen that the sun still found its way through. It was just another disturbing difference that made this place somewhere she should not be.
After a few minutes Holly paused and listened for any sounds of pursuit. Surely they’d know by now that she had escaped? When she thought she’d gone far enough she turned up the hillside, heading through sparse tree cover for the ridge. She’d always had a good sense of direction, and she had a positive feeling about where she was heading. She could not remember in detail every part of her journey on the stretcher, but this somehow felt right. She paused and turned every couple of minutes, trying to locate a view she might have seen before.
On the ridge she tried to find her bearings. Another ridge across the valley cut a recognisable line against the faint moonlight, spiked here and there with more trees than she was used to, yet it was a place that she knew from her own world. And closer, the slope she was about to take down from this hilltop swept towards the valley floor in a familiar bowl shape, home to a narrow creek and a chattering stream, slopes clothed with trees. She had come climbing here once with Melinda, searching for old birds’ nests, and both of them had been in awe of the wilderness around them.