Page 173 of The Cradle of Ice

“What do we do?” Floraan asked, gathering Henna.

The girl’s face ran with tears, her eyes wide with terror at Kalder. She would not be trying to put a saddle on him anytime soon. She hugged tight to her mother.

Fenn pointed back to the broken ice field. “We could try to hide back there. If we’re lucky—”

Before he could finish, a handful of men appeared out of the jumble of ice, followed by two knights atop armored horses.

Rhaif turned the other direction, toward the thicker smoke hugging the ruins of Iskar. “Make for the village!”

It was their only hope.

As they ran, Rhaif tossed aside his crutch. At this point, it was more of an anchor than an aid. Each step flared with pain, but the agony only urged him faster. Kalder followed, sticking to his pack.

The smoke thickened around them, but there was little breath left to smother. Still, the patrol and horsemen vanished into the pall behind them. It stirred some hope that Rhaif and the others might reach the village.

“No…” Fenn moaned, glancing behind him.

Rhaif cringed and looked back, expecting to find the patrol closing in on them. But it wasn’t a soldier or a knight. Overhead, a slipfoil sped through the pall, sweeping like a winged shark at them.

They could never outrun it.

Even if they could, it was backed by a sailraft diving at them, intending to close off any escape ahead. Rhaif slowed, accepting defeat.

Might as well not die so winded.

The sailraft fired its forge, blazing fire through the smoke. But the raft’s pilot made an error in his haste to catch its prey. It got too close to the slipfoil. Its keel hit the slim ship’s balloon. The forge’s flames burned through the fabric and ignited the slipfoil’s gasbag. It exploded into a huge fireball that rolled high, just missing the raft.

The slipfoil swept past overhead, spinning its wings in an uncontrolled roll. It sailed far, then struck the sand, cartwheeling end over end until its flashburn tank exploded, blasting the foil apart.

The sailraft followed the same trajectory, passing over Rhaif’s group as they stumbled forward, less with any hope of escape and more on momentum alone.

Ahead of them, the raft skimmed the beach. Its stern door dropped open, its far end dragging across the sand.

Brayl glared at them from beside the door. “Run, you idiots!”

She dashed back to her controls.

Rhaif sprinted, forgetting his pain, buoyed by hope.

Or maybe I’m dead and just imagining this.

Still, they all reached the bouncing door and flung themselves into the hold. Kalder leaped in after them. Rhaif rolled around enough to see a pair of horsemen come galloping out of the gloom.

Rhaif thrust his arm up in a rude gesture.

Too late, you bastards.

Brayl fired the forge and shot the raft higher. The beach fell away under them. The horsemen vanished again into the smoke rolling off the flaming ruins of Iskar. All around, enemy ships dashed and floated. But for now, no one suspected this lone sailraft wasn’t one of their own.

“Someone get that door!” Brayl called.

Fenn rushed and cranked the stern closed, sealing them in.

Rhaif knelt up. “How did you … where did you…?”

“I was just returning from the Fyredragon,” Brayl shouted back. “Saw the battle. Snuck in when I saw the other rafts. Blended in as best I could, sticking to the thickest smoke. Lucky I did, or I wouldn’t have spotted you. Then again, a fleeing vargr … that’s hard to miss.”

To the side, Floraan hugged Henna in her lap. The girl sobbed and shook. Kalder paced in a tight circle, still snarling, hackles held high.