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R HAIF LABORED DOWN the beach, limping through the smoke, using a stout reed as a cane. It didn’t work as well as his old crutch, but his bruised underarm was happy to let his bad leg carry some of the load.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Darant scolded him.

“Unless you want to carry me, no.”

Darant scowled and looked Rhaif up and down, plainly considering it. Rhaif hurried faster before he made up his mind.

Earlier, he had led Darant and three crewmen through the ruins of Iskar. They had to proceed slowly, wary of the raash’ke and any other lingering patrols of Hálendiians. Strangely, the only visible threat—though it wasn’t much of one—was a lone figure in armor, peeking out from around the drape of a doorway, then ducking away.

Still, other figures had scurried furtively through the village, just hazy shapes in the smoke. The shadows were likely Pantheans who were taking advantage of the lull in the fighting.

Otherwise, Iskar had gone eerily quiet.

Far down the beach now, Rhaif glanced back. Off in the distance, he could barely make out the village. Besides falling quieter, it had also gone darker. The flames had burned through their fuel of reed roofs. A few firepots still flickered, but the worst of the blaze had died to smolders. Even the smoke had lessened.

But not by much.

Rhaif tried not to rub at his sore eyes, as it only worsened the burn. His lungs felt heavy with ash. They all struggled not to cough, lest it lure any hunters in the sky.

“How much farther?” Darant asked, his voice tight with worry for his daughter. He also kept looking back, concerned for Glace, too.

The smoke hid the world around them, but Rhaif had used the crashed Hálendiian sailraft near the beach as a marker. It had still been smoldering as they passed it.

“We should be—”

A coughing chuff cut him off, but it also answered Darant’s question. A vargr had keener eyes than any of them. Kalder came barreling through the pall, looking as if he coalesced out of the smoke. He sniffed a fast circle, confirming who they were—then leaped away, vanishing in a breath.

They headed after him.

With the destination at hand, Darant abandoned Rhaif, no longer needing a guide. His trio of crewmen rushed after their captain, axes in hand, ready to free Brayl.

One of them hung back for a few extra breaths. Perde’s broken arm had been hastily splinted, but he refused to stay behind. He carried an ax over a shoulder. “Quit draggin’ your arse.”

Perde turned and sped after the others.

Rhaif frowned at the general lack of gratitude by pirates. Still, he tossed aside his cane and hurried as best he could after them. He feared what they all would find inside the sailraft. It had been a hard day for everyone.

To lose Brayl, too…

Rhaif cleared the edge of the smoke, and the green sea opened before him. The crashed sailraft lay dark and silent. Darant and the others waded toward it. Kalder splashed ahead, leading them.

A short distance from the raft’s open stern, Fenn waved an arm. The navigator tossed something aside with his other hand.

Rhaif followed the others through the shallows. As he did, he searched the glowing mists overhead. A few wings cut across the sky. And it looked like more stirred higher.

Fenn waited for Rhaif, noting where he was looking. “They’ve been circling, stirring about, but I’ve not seen them approach any closer. Maybe they’ve eaten their fill.”

“Then let’s hope they don’t get a sudden craving.” Rhaif shifted to a topic that Fenn seemed to be avoiding. “How’s Brayl?”

Fenn’s lips drew into hard, pained lines. “Floraan attended to her. She was relieved to get that satchel. If you hadn’t sent me back, she might not have lasted this long.” He gave a sad shake of his head. “She’s lost a lot of blood.”

With a grimace, Rhaif headed over, if only to say good-bye. He was glad she lasted long enough until her father returned.

As he crossed the last of the way, Kalder nosed at something small and dark bobbing in the waves.

“What’s that?” Rhaif asked.

Fenn waved a hand dismissively. “A dead skrycrow. I saw it out here when Kalder ran off and fetched you. I was hoping it might still have its message. Get some idea of what’s going on with the Hálendiians.”

“Did you find anything?”

“No. The crow’s harness must’ve fallen loose or washed off.”

Rhaif frowned. Those harnesses were difficult to dislodge. They had to be. The birds made long flights, often through foul weather.

“Too bad,” Rhaif muttered, picturing that ox-faced Ghryss blasting away in his sailraft.

Together, Rhaif and Fenn reached the broken stern and climbed past the cold wreckage of the forge. Ahead, Darant knelt in the water next to his daughter. Brayl nodded, offering a weak smile. She looked like a ghost already.

Rhaif held back, not wanting to intrude. Floraan stood to the side, having done all she could. She held Henna close with one arm, as if that grip alone could keep Floraan from ever suffering the same fate.

To have to say farewell to a child.

Rhaif saw that Floraan had also managed to rummage a crude splint together for her arm. A very resourceful woman.

She’d make a good thief.

Rhaif caught Floraan’s eye and nodded toward Brayl.

The woman simply shook her head.

Rhaif winced—then a loud crack of boards overhead made him jump. Henna cringed low. Kalder growled outside. Footsteps pounded up top, accompanied by muffled voices. Darant’s men had climbed to the roof, to inspect the lodged spar.

An ax struck hard overhead. Boards splintered. More hacking followed. Rhaif grimaced. Especially as Brayl’s eyes pinched with each strike, clearly feeling the impacts reverberating down the impaled spar.

Then the chopping stopped, followed by three loud splashes.

Darant’s men came clambering inside.

Perde called over in a hushed voice, “Sodding bastards are coming.”

No one had to ask who.

The cries of the raash’ke filled the skies all around them. The bats, with their keen hearing, must have been drawn down by the chopping.

Rhaif hated to abandon Brayl, but he shifted to Floraan and Henna. “Make for the smoke. It’s our only hope.”

But it was already too late.

Dark shapes crashed into the shallows all around the raft, trapping them inside.

Then something explosive struck right at the stern, sending them all scurrying back. Water splashed high. As it washed down, it revealed a figure of shining bronze down on one knee.

“Shiya…?”

It looked as if she had fallen out of the sky.

More large shapes swept down.

Huge wings flared past Shiya’s shoulder. A massive raash’ke landed in the shallows. It tucked its wings and bowed a furry head.

From the arch of its back, a figure straightened in a saddle. Her dark hair, flung high by the descent, settled to her shoulders, shining with strands of gold that scintillated with bridle-song. Her eyes glowed with the same fire as she stared fiercely into the hold.

Rhaif recognized her, but he still stepped away.

“Nyx?”