Page 26 of The Cradle of Ice

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HUDDLED IN THE hold of Sparrowhawk, Graylin grabbed Nyx’s arm. Fear forged his fingers into iron. The others had already boarded the two sailrafts. Bundled in a thick coat, Nyx stood beside Bashaliia at the foot of their raft’s ramp. She had wanted to wait until the last moment before leaving the beast’s side.

“Get aboard,” he ordered.

Even sheltered behind the sailraft, he had to yell. The Sparrowhawk’s massive stern door had been dropped flat, sticking out of the ship like a tongue, poking into the steamy darkness. Graylin kept watch on the skies as the ship spiraled deeper into the mists. The air stank worrisomely of sulfurous brimstan. After so long in the cold, the heat flowing into the ship felt oppressive.

“Now,” Graylin pressed Nyx.

She kept a palm on the bat’s cheek and glanced over. “Are you sure we can’t take him with us? There’s room.”

“Barely, and we’ve gone over this. He’s better off on his own and can follow us down. He’s certainly far more agile than any raft. If anyone can escape those monsters, it’s him.”

She sighed and leaned her brow against her brother’s bowed head, saying a final good-bye.

Deaf to bridle-song, Graylin imagined the energy passing between the two. In that moment, Nyx looked so much like Marayn. The tenderness in the girl’s face, the steel in her eyes, even the edge of fury in the set to her lips. It all stung his heart. He prayed that he could take better care of her than he had her mother, a woman whom he had loved more than his own standing, his own blood oath, his own life. Still, Marayn had died in the Mýr swamps. He had failed her in the end, abandoning her in a futile attempt to lead the king’s forces astray.

As Nyx straightened, he searched her face for features that matched his own, but all he could see was Marayn. Nyx might be his child, but he could not know for sure. He had shared Marayn’s bed—memories of which were forever etched in his heart—but so had another, the man to whom she had been indentured. She had been raised among the pleasure serfs of King Toranth’s palacio, becoming the sovereign’s most beloved treasure. The king had forbidden any other man from touching her.

But Graylin had broken an oath and trespassed where he shouldn’t have, bringing ruin to all. The guilt had become as much a part of him as his scars and calloused bones. Still, the gods had granted him a measure of absolution.

He stared at the young woman before him. He didn’t care if she was his daughter or not, only that she was Marayn’s. He’d treasure even this small part of the woman he once loved.

Bashaliia finally backed away from the ramp, fluttering his wings loose.

Nyx stared after him, her expression pained. “Be careful. Stay close to us.”

With matters settled, Graylin herded Nyx up into the small hold of the sailraft. He looked over at the other craft.

As he watched, its stern door snapped shut. Rhaif and Shiya were already inside. The immense weight of the bronze woman had limited the number of crew it could carry. Darant’s daughter Glace manned its controls. The only others aboard were the engineer Hyck, along with a pair of brothers, Perde and Herl.

Brayl called from the wheel of Graylin’s raft, “Seal us up! My sister is ready to launch!”

With a grimace, Graylin rushed into the hold and grabbed the crank handle just inside. Using all his shoulder strength, he wheeled it around and around. The stern door slowly rose behind him.

Inside, Nyx crossed to Jace and Krysh. The two of them had hauled in a crate of hastily packed books, tomes apparently too precious to leave behind. Graylin didn’t care. If nothing else, the volumes would make good kindling for a fire.

On the other side of the hold stood two more crewmembers. Fenn leaned over Brayl’s shoulder. The navigator gestured and talked rapidly, likely planning for their descent. Looming over them was Quartermaster Vikas. The woman stood a head taller than Graylin and massed twice his size. She was all muscle and grimness encased in leather armor. She carried a broadsword, one so lengthy it had to be sheathed across her back.

More passengers could’ve been crammed in here, even with Kalder’s hulking size aboard, but the rest of the crew, numbering eight or nine, had opted to remain on board, to help Darant in his own escape. They all knew their only hope of completing the journey—or even returning home—depended on saving the Sparrowhawk.

Brayl elbowed Fenn back, snapping at him, “Give me some sodding space already. I know what I have to do.”

Graylin recognized her ire was not directed at the navigator. She rankled at having to abandon her father. Still, the two sisters were the best pilots aboard the Hawk, possibly even better than Darant.

We need their skill.

Jace suddenly yelped and jerked back. He pointed toward the bow window. “They’ve found us!”

Graylin twisted around to see what had provoked the young man. Outside the swyftship, a pair of shadows swept through the steamy mists. Until now, the beasts had been harrying the gasbag and upper deck, ignoring the lower stern.

No longer.

One shadow cartwheeled through the air and dove toward the open deck of the Sparrowhawk. It landed on the dropped door outside. Claws skidded across the planks. Its leathery wings were held high, its head low. It hissed, baring teeth, likely wary at the strangeness of the ship’s interior. Its sheer size—twice that of an ox—drew all their breath.

“Launch!” Graylin gasped out. They could not risk the enormous creature damaging either sailraft. They had to go before the beast got its bearings.

Another realized the same.