Page 174 of The Cradle of Ice

“Nee … faza ja … Kalder,” Henna got out between her gulping breaths. “Wall thah.”

Floraan whispered reassurance in her daughter’s ear. Henna gave a tiny nod and settled deeper into the lap, already calmer.

Rhaif cast her mother a questioning look.

“I told her Kalder is not a monster. That he just got scared. And was only trying to protect her from the bad men.”

“I think everything you said was true—except maybe for the scared part.”

Fenn crossed between them to join Brayl. “What do we do from here? Where do we go?”

Brayl pointed at Floraan. “I was hoping she would know.”

“What about making for Kefta?” Rhaif suggested. “Get the sea between us and them?”

“Not enough flashburn in my tanks to reach there. I’m running on dregs as it is.” She glanced back at Floraan. “Is there a village close by—”

Rhaif stiffened and jerked back as something flew past the window behind her.

Noting his reaction, Brayl swung around. “What?”

“It’s gone,” Rhaif said.

“What was it?”

He shook his head.

Overhead, something suddenly tore into the balloon, shaking the entire raft. Past the window, a black silhouette cut through the mists. It dove past the bow. Then another. And another.

“Raash’ke,” Floraan moaned.

All the explosions and screams must have lured the beasts back into the Crèche.

The raft whipped hard as the last of the raft’s balloon was ripped away. Rhaif caught a brief glimpse of a wing and a tattered flap of fabric.

Then the ship plummeted.

Brayl cursed and pressed both pedals flat to the floor. The forge roared under them. Its flames fought to slow their fall, braking their descent, but not by much. As the raft spun, Rhaif caught snippets of a beach, the sea, the cliff wall.

Which of them would they strike first?

Brayl struggled to get them over water. But she had little control over the raft. Most of the forge’s force was directed downward, trying to curb their speed.

But even that quickly proved useless.

The forge’s flames sputtered with its last gasps of flashburn.

Once, twice—then died.

The forge fell silent, leaving only the winds shrieking outside.

No one bothered to add to that screaming.

They rode the spinning raft down—heading for a splintering crash.

69

NYX DID NOT need the fiery map burning inside her skull to know they neared the end of the Fangs. For that last half league, the tunnel had widened, its walls flowing with bright meltwater, reflecting the skiff’s firepot. The roof arched higher, dripping heavily atop them.