Page 77 of The Cradle of Ice

Nyx’s heart clenched, sensing something was wrong. She took a step forward. “What happened? Is he still alive?”

“As far as we know,” Krysh mumbled.

Nyx shook her head, not accepting this answer. She found it hard to catch her breath, to challenge them. “What … What do you mean?”

Graylin glared at the alchymist. “Tell her.”

Krysh swallowed hard and nodded. “We all heard the attack on Iskar. The screams, the fighting, that awful keening. Kalder turned savage. Even Bashaliia fought to break free, maybe to aid you all. But I spotted the storm of wings over the village. I knew Bashaliia could not fight so many, especially while still recovering from his wounds. Vikas guarded the exit, refusing to let them leave. All the while, Bashaliia called and called for you, his cries deafening in that small space.”

Nyx rubbed her chest, trying to calm her pounding heart. “Then what?”

“It wasn’t you that answered. A covey of bats, half a dozen, crashed to the beach. The raash’ke screamed at us, muddling our senses. Bashaliia cast out his bridle-song in a furious wail that freed us. Before we could act, Kalder broke past Vikas and killed one of the raash’ke, ripping out its throat. Bashaliia went to his aid, trying to protect the vargr from the bats’ keening—but the pack was too fast, too strong. They surrounded Bashaliia. They pounded him low with their bridling, pinning him to the sand.”

Krysh looked with pity at her. “I didn’t think he could be brought down like that, not even with five attacking him. It was as if something far stronger was wielding them.”

Nyx closed her eyes. Guilt and fear strangled her. She knew the alchymist was right. During the battle, she remembered being relieved when the horde-mind had retreated from the fighting. She had believed her fiery attack upon the bat in the street had unnerved it, made it cautious and wary. She also remembered the dark presence, the spider in the shadows. She had sensed its cunning as it turned away from her—not to escape.

But toward another target.

Krysh continued, “None of us could resist the strength of that force. We all staggered, dropping, losing our senses. Before I fully succumbed, I saw those dark bats leap away with a blast of sand.”

“And Bashaliia?” Nyx whispered.

Krysh stared at her, his eyes apologetic. “He followed them, haltingly, trying not to go, but unable to stop.”

Nyx shook her head and stumbled away from the truth.

No …

But she could not escape the certainty inside her.

“They bridled him,” she gasped out.

Jace joined her. “He’ll break free. I know he will. The first chance he gets.”

She clutched her throat, remembering the force of that horde-mind, the malevolent intent of the spider. She flashed back to her first brush with that darkness. Up in the Sparrowhawk. She pictured the black bat clutching to the ship’s window, wings battering against the glass, its gaze fixed on her. Back then, she had felt the horde-mind staring through those eyes, casting out a silent threat.

It echoed in her head even now.

We will break you.

She closed her eyes, knowing the truth, knowing why they took Bashaliia.

They will break him instead.

35

RHAIF SHIVERED ON the floor of the sailraft’s hold. His teeth clattered, and his chest heaved up and down. His impaled leg was a fiery torch, but it failed to dispel his feverish chill. Agony flared with each beat of his heart. Cold sweat pebbled his brow. All the while, he quaked and shook under a blanket made of ripped sections of the raft’s balloon.

Herl and Perde knelt beside him, ready to pin him down if his shaking grew worse. Their worried glances and pinched brows did not make Rhaif feel confident in his survival following the venomous attack by those sea creatures.

But at least the beasts hadn’t returned.

Off by the raft’s stern door, Glace stood with Hyck. “We’ll have to dig out that hooked barb,” she mumbled. “We can’t just wait for him to die.”

Hyck shook his head. “Doing that might spread the poison faster. Kill him even quicker.”

“We must try. Blood keeps boiling out around that thorn. It’s not scabbing or clotting. As if the venom is thwarting it from doing so. If we do nothing, he’ll bleed his life away while we wring our hands.”