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N YX CIRCLED ABOVE the dark scar that split the crystalline sands. She tried not to picture herself as a marsh vulture spiraling above a ripe corpse.

Let them still be alive.

She cursed herself for not having joined Daal and the others when they had abandoned the Fyredragon and set off on this patrol. Across the ravine, another rider—a skilled Panthean named Barrat—matched her pace around the ragged cut.

She had sent the other rider winging back to the ruins, to alert the Fyredragon of all that had transpired. She would not return until she discovered the fate of the others.

But she knew that might not be possible.

She eyed the large ship flying toward them. It must be the warship that Daal had warned them about, the one bearing the Bhestyan flag. Farther to the south, a smaller ship sailed above the rift, following its course in this direction, too.

While this boded badly, Nyx took a measure of comfort in this other’s path. If those aboard were tracking the ravine, hunting its depths, then maybe Daal and the others were already on their way back.

Earlier, Barrat had explained how a pair of riders—Tamryn and Arik—had rushed off to intercept Daal and lead him home. He had also shared what had goaded those two riders to act: Daal’s mount had been wounded in an attack.

Fear laced through her.

Such an injury would surely slow them all down.

She lifted a farscope and focused on the small ship. It appeared to be a corsair from its sleek shape. She tried to make out its flag, but the whipping wind and distance confounded her. All she could do was pray it was not heavily armed.

As she lowered the scope, a flash of fire caught her eye. It rose from the corsair’s deck, from its forecastle. A muffled boom reached her.

Cannon fire.

The hunters must have spotted their targets or were attempting to flush them out.

Nyx gauged the distance from here.

Two leagues.

She lowered the scope and cast her gaze toward the approach of the Bhestyan warship. She swallowed, recognizing how tight this gambit would be.

But it didn’t matter.

She called to Barrat, “Head back to the Fyredragon !”

“But—”

She shoved an arm to the west. “Go!”

Without looking to see if her order was obeyed, Nyx cast her desire to Bashaliia. Her winged brother broke away, diving steeply. Winds tried to rip her from her saddle, but her lap strap kept her seated.

As they ducked into the ravine, walls swallowed them. Another blast echoed up the canyon. She cringed against it, but she did not slow.

Bashaliia swept into the shadows, then snapped his wings wider, catching the cooler air. Nyx sank into the saddle as the bat turned his dive into a swift glide. Nyx sang her encouragement, binding her to his heart.

As they flew, Bashaliia’s keening shed the darkness ahead of them, piercing the gloom.

She shared his sight and cast her song farther out, sending forth a promise.

I’m coming.

D AAL DUCKED AS a cannonball shattered the rock wall on his right. Cursing, he clung to Pyllar and fought to keep clear of the ravine’s bottom. His mount’s wings trembled and beat with the last of his ebbing strength.

A short time ago, the pair had come close to crashing into the depths—only to have Heffik dive beneath them and push Pyllar’s chest up. The smaller doe could do little more. Even Tamryn tried using her arms to keep Pyllar aloft. The pair could only hold that weight for a handful of breaths, but it was enough for Pyllar to get his foundering wings back under him.

From there, they managed to glide into the deepest shadows, through cooler air. The raash’ke were creatures of ice and cold. The chill helped Pyllar tap into the last dregs of his strength.

Still, their pace inevitably slowed, allowing the corsair to close upon them. Another cannon boomed overhead. Sandstone exploded, filling the air with rubble.

Arik took a stone to his head. It sliced through his leather and bounced off his mount’s wing. He barely kept his saddle, but he held tight. As he straightened, blood ran from under his hood, darkening half his face.

Tamryn rushed over, but he waved her off. She fell back to Daal’s position. Her face was as dark as Arik’s, but not from any wash of blood.

Daal understood.

“Go!” he ordered her. “Get Arik to the ship. I’ll follow on my own!”

He stared up at the corsair’s shadow. From his earlier spying, he knew the ship had only two cannons. It would take time to reload them. Hopefully, the delay would offer Tamryn and Arik a moment to escape.

Tamryn scowled at this, but she spun Heffik forward again. Gestures were exchanged, and Arik headed off, faster now. It did not take long for the shadows to swallow rider and mount.

Tamryn fell back again to Pyllar’s side.

Daal started to object, but Tamryn thrust out an arm, as if rudely gesturing to him. Instead, a curl of rope unraveled from her hand. She must have retrieved it from her saddle pack. The rope’s length—tossed with the expertise of a skilled Panthean casting a net—struck Daal in the chest.

He snagged it one-handed but failed to understand its significance.

Tamryn tilted back, revealing her end tied to her saddle horn. She motioned for him to do the same at his end. He recovered quickly and wrapped a fletch-knot around Pyllar’s pommel, leaning on the memory buried in his bones from all his years plying the sea with his father.

With the line secured, Tamryn urged Heffik forward. The doe, looking equally determined to help her buck, pulled the rope taut between them. Tamryn and her mount towed Pyllar, sharing their strength.

Slowly, their pace increased, but not by much.

The raash’ke—raised in the harsh ice—had bulky, smaller bodies. It took most of their strength to carry a rider. Even with Heffik’s imparted vigor, they had not gained much speed.

Another cannon blast warned of the continuing threat. A huge boulder cracked free, dislodged by the impact of an iron ball. It plummeted toward them. They barely escaped its impact, diving clear at the last breath. Rock shattered behind them. Shards chased after them, clattering all around.

Daal ducked from the worst of it, recognizing a hard truth.

We’ll not survive another blast.

He freed his knife and lowered the blade to the rope. The tautness of the line had snugged the knot too tight to undo on its own.

Tamryn shouted at him, clearly noting his dagger—but her cry had nothing to do with his attempt to free himself.

Ahead, a huge shadow swelled into view.

Black wings stretched wide, nearly filling the ravine.

He struggled to comprehend this visage—until bridle-song washed over him, filling the squeeze of the canyon. It struck him like a wave, carrying with it no words, only intent.

I’m here.

N YX HAD HEARD the boom of the cannon, the explosion of sandstone. Fearing the worst, she had urged Bashaliia to greater speeds. She trusted his senses, his echoing cries that stripped away shadows.

Moments ago, she had swept past Arik. Blood streamed down the rider’s face. She had barely slowed, especially as he waved and shouted a single word that set fire to her heart.

“Hurry!”

She obeyed that command.

A final turn of the canyon, and she spotted a pair of raash’ke. The darkness made it hard to discern one from the other. But even before sighting them, she had felt the font of power welling ahead of her. It called to the empty hunger inside her.

She immediately knew it was Daal lagging behind the other.

She rushed toward him, spurring Bashaliia onward. Her eyes kept fixed upon Daal’s hunched form. Off to the side and gliding higher, the other rider—Tamryn—motioned frantically, as if urging her to come faster.

But that was not the message.

Bashaliia suddenly jerked into a roll, swinging vertically on a wingtip. Nyx got thrown sideways, hanging only by her lap strap. The Myr bat sped past the two raash’ke. Only then did Nyx notice the rope joining the two mounts together.

She had failed to spot it. Bashaliia’s original path would have swept into that rope, sending all three crashing in a tangle.

Clear of the threat, Bashaliia angled sharply around once he was past Daal and Tamryn. Nyx regained her seat as their flight evened out. She stared ahead at the rope and understood its purpose.

Tamryn is towing Daal’s wounded mount.

As Bashaliia chased after the tethered pair, the shadow of the corsair loomed overhead. At these lagging speeds, they’d never escape that hunter.

Knowing this, Nyx tightened her chest and sang her desire into Bashaliia’s heart. Golden strands formed a design of intent. It blazed across both their eyes.

Bashaliia understood and whisked forward. He dove beneath Pyllar and slowed into a steady glide, riding a bit ahead of the other.

Nyx craned her neck and shouted up to Daal, “Jump! Join me on Bashaliia. He can carry us!”

But that was not the only reason.

Nyx stared past Daal to the corsair’s shadow.

I will need us both.

A S N YX YELLED again, Daal winced. He did not fear such a leap, but he hated to abandon Pyllar. He reached to his mount’s ruff, felt each struggled breath and each hard thump of his heart.

Nyx called up, her face flushed with panic and frustration. “Unburdened by your weight, your mount can fly faster with Heffik and Tamryn.”

Daal cursed himself for not recognizing this. Exhaustion—both his own and Pyllar’s—had dulled his thinking. He quickly tossed aside his lap strap, slipped a leg from its stirrup, and shifted the limb under him.

Below, Nyx stared up at him. While her goggles hid her eyes, her intensity still burned to him. Daal noted the golden aura glowing about her. She had stoked her bridle-song into a bonfire, a blaze too strong for her body to hold.

As he balanced atop the saddle, her power called to the wellspring inside him. It stirred deep in his chest, quickening his heart, tightening his ribs. His skin flushed, as if already warmed by the blaze below.

A part of him wanted to leap away from that bonfire, but he knew he could not. It called to him—and he had no choice but to answer.

Daal leaped from the saddle, flew through the air, and fell into those flames.