Page 191 of The Cradle of Ice

Don’t get caught.

Rhaif hurried through the empty streets, ducking away where he could. Even muffled by the helm, his ears remained sharp. So, he heard the voices as he neared a last corner. He stopped and peeked around the bend into the sprawl of Iskar’s open plaza.

Rhaif had hoped he would not have to come here. But he knew of no other lodestone shelters.

Just this last one.

Still, he hadn’t been the only one to seek out this spot. He heard an angry outburst, explosively loud in the quiet. He recognized the timbre of that outrage.

Darant …

The pirate cursed hotly.

Rhaif wanted to rush over and dive into the shelter. But the plaza was too exposed. Raash’ke swirled and spun high above. They were mostly fixated on the enemy’s beached swyftship. Its balloon had been ripped down. Fabric draped over its deck and one side of the hull. With its forges cold and the ship grounded, the horde held back, more guarding it than threatening it.

For now, the bats ignored those gathered in the shelter, likely having recognized the futility of reaching the prey inside. Outside the chamber, the bomb-blasted bodies and broken wings of three raash’ke gave testament to that pointlessness.

Rhaif shifted back, taking a deep breath, knowing he had to get closer, but he knew the risk of such an endeavor, especially with the thieves’ maxim burning in his head.

Don’t get caught.

As he stepped back, his heel hit a large rock, kicking it away. But it was no stone. A head, torn from its body, rolled twice, then stopped, dead eyes staring up. A circlet dislodged from its crown and spun farther, bumping across its imbedded gemstones, then toppling sideways.

Rhaif cringed, horror-struck, recognizing what lay at his toes.

The head of the Reef Farer.

He gulped down his panic and peered around the corner. He pictured Berent and his consort, Ularia. The last time he had seen their faces was back at the ice cave. When the raash’ke attacked, they must have fled for better protection.

One of them didn’t make it.

A sharp voice cracked through his shock.

“He knows where the others went,” Ularia snapped darkly. “His companions wouldn’t have left without letting this one know. Kill another of his crew and his tongue will loosen.”

“Who next?” a gruff voice demanded, the accent Hálendiian. “Who should we choose?”

Rhaif formed a fist, knowing what he had to do. With a grimace, he dashed low around the corner. He needed a clear view into the room without anyone seeing him.

Llyra’s voice filled his head, warning him to be cautious—and resourceful.

He reached the edge of one of the blasted raash’ke carcasses. He lifted its slack wing and crawled beneath it, ducking out of view. The space reeked of sulfur, moldy fur, and shite. Still, he dropped lower and squirmed under the span of bone and leather. He reached its far side and used the back of his hand to raise the fringe enough to peer out.

The entrance to the mag’nees chamber lay directly ahead.

Inside, torches and lanterns glowed, revealing the truth. It was no longer a shelter, but a torture room. Four bodies lay on the floor, rolled haphazardly to the side. He recognized all of them, including Herl. His ale-loving friend’s throat had been slit ear to ear.

Rhaif spotted his brother, Perde, on his knees in there. Both eyes swollen shut, holding a broken arm to his chest, his wrists in chains. More of the crew suffered similar abuse. They were all surrounded by Hálendiians in armor.

Held at the front, on his knees, Darant glared up. He spat through the ruins of his mouth. “I’m not telling you nothing. You can go fekk yourself, Ghryss.”

The gruff leader leaned his nose close. The man was clad in armor, too, along with the cape of his command. From his scarred and ruddy features, he was a hard man that few dared to defy.

Ghryss snarled darkly, “We shall see.” He waved to his men, who dragged up another prisoner. He turned to Ularia. “You had better be right about this one, or your pointy-eared head may be joining the others we removed.”

Ularia kept her back straight, refusing to bend at these threats.

Ghryss scowled. “You’re lucky you bought your life with knowledge of this shelter. But such goodwill could end if you’re wrong.”