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“Dawsyn!” someone calls. Salem’s voice, searching for her in the gloom.

Dawsyn takes the torch from Hector and hastens forward. Toward the clamour. “Salem?”

“Dawsyn!” And then he appears, grabbing her arm and tugging her forward. “It’s tha’ son o’ a bitch,” he yells. “The Splitter.”

Her stomach plummets. The sounds of fighting continue. “Nevrak.”

“He’s gathered a mob,” Salem huffs, stumbling over debris. “Ryon’s holdin’ ’em off!”

Dawsyn lets the ax handle slide into her trembling hand until her fingers find the worn grooves at its end. She leaves Salem behind her and follows the light shining from several torches ahead, barely illuminating the scuffle before them.

“I SAY WE WASTE THE GLACIANS!”

The bellow is met by a hearty roar of assent. Fists rise in the air.

Dawsyn pushes through to see Nevrak standing in the middle of the mob, his forearm locked around Tasheem’s throat. She winces, holding her injured leg aloft. Her calf dangles sickeningly, no doubt re-broken.

Nevrak holds a knife beneath her eye, the tip caressing the side of her nose. The small crowd of men clear a circle for him, and each have weapons drawn. Their faces are ruddy with hatred. They stare at Tasheem hungrily.

Ryon and Rivdan are the only ones standing between the mob and Nevrak. Dawsyn can see the few who have tried to pass and failed. They stagger stupidly with cut lips and swelling eyes.

Dawsyn counts twenty or so men, all heeding to Nevrak’s call.

“We’ve lived beneath the press of their talons long enough, haven’t we?” Nevrak calls to them, and they respond with resounding assent.

“Call your men off, Nevrak,” Ryon says quietly, though his wrist turns his sword over and its glint is as menacing as his stare. “I do not wish to make them walk without their limbs.”

Nevrak spits onto the ground. “We ain’t sheep to be herded! We’ve let ourselves be led down this merry path, when you Glacians could’ve flown us out at any time!”

“Mesrich, kill this idiot,” Tasheem spits. Her hands pull on the constricting arm around her neck. “Before I do.”

“Oh, ho! You see, lads! I say, this path ain’t leading us to Terrsaw. No kingdom of the free. There ain’t no field of whores waiting to ravish us all on the other side!”

The men laugh, riled and vengeful.

“No. I’d wager that the only thing we’ll find at the end of this fucking path, is another corner to confine us to! ANOTHER FUCKING PRISON TO TRAP US IN!”

“Enough,” Dawsyn says. She steps into the circle. Turns her back on the watching crowd.

Ryon moves slightly to guard her. “Easy,” he murmurs. She can feel his adrenaline as she passes.

She faces Nevrak. “Don’t be a fool, Splitter.”

Nevrak pins her with a glare so hateful, she almost feels its touch digging into her skin. “A fool?” he says, that maddened veneer sheathing him once more. “I turned a fool the day I let your mongrels drop me into thisfucking hell hole!”

“And I’ll not let you leave it, if you don’t put down your blade,” Dawsyn says. They are so close to the end. So close. She can feel it. She won’t allow Nevrak to impede it.

“Ha!” Nevrak barks. “You Sabars always did have more arrogance than was good for you. We’ve let it guide us far enough, girl. You ain’t in charge anymore.”

“No? And I suppose you’ll be taking my place?”

“You’re damn right,” Nevrak growls, steam rising from his lips. He pulls Tasheem tighter. “And unless these bats fly us over that edge up there,” he juts his chin to the sky above, “I’ll be leaving their useless carcasses here, among the other fools unfortunate enough to have listened to your lies.”

“I’ll ask it nicely once more, Ryon,” Tasheem huffs. “Kill this imbecile.”

Ryon eyes Tasheem in silent warning. “All of us were injured, Nevrak. We will be lucky to rescue ourselves from this Chasm.”

“Another fucking lie, no doubt!”