Page 93 of Still the Sun

Moseus took no chances.

“Give me the pickaxe!” I shout.

Awkwardly positioned, Maglon lifts it. I grab the thing, heft it with both hands, and aim for the center of the chain. My aim is true, and the old chain snaps under the force. It’s loud, but I don’t care.Heartwood, wake up. Please.

I grab him under his shoulders and pull. Maglon grabs his legs and pushes, still blocking the silvery waterfall. When we free Heartwood, Maglon hurries around the machine and hisses for Amlynn to come up.

Grabbing fistfuls of fabric, I tear Heartwood’s trousers at the seam, from upper thigh to ankle. The cuff fits snugly. Locked. Does Moseus have a key, or does he even need one? I doubt he had plans to free the god who unwittingly gave him a second chance at power.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, and wedge the tip of the pickaxe between the ends of the cuff, where a link of chain connects them. “This is going to hurt.”

I try to break it, but Heartwood’s body moves with the force, and I can’t get good leverage, though he’s definitely taking deep bruises. Maglon, Amlynn, and Salki appear, Amlynn quickly rushing to the patient. “Heartwood?” she asks me.

I nod. “I need you guys to hold his leg. And the cuff, but not with bare skin. It’s poisoned.”

Salki pales, but she comes over and sits on Heartwood’s shin. Maglon straddles his thighs. He pulls his sleeves over his hands and grasps the bottom of the cuff. Amlynn cups her hands over Maglon’s, steadying them.

With all the strength Ruin left me, I heave once, twice—

Maglon curses as I pinch his fingers, but the chain link snaps. I knock it loose with the pickaxe, sending it under the silver fountain.

“Water.” Amlynn’s voice takes on a commanding tone. Salki fumbles with a bladder on her belt and hands it over. Amlynn cleans the poisoned skin with a handkerchief, as well as the puckering wound from the pickaxe. I hand the tool to Maglon, who stands guard.

“Heartwood.” I kneel by his head and take his face in my hands. “Heartwood, can you hear me?”

A lantern comes to life behind me, illuminating Heartwood’s injuries, and I gasp.

His clothes are torn. Burns mar the pale skin on his exposed leg. I pull up his shirt. The parts of him that Moseus left under the acetic silver are raw and red, meaty, running from just under his left pectoral muscle down to his right hip. Amlynn grits her teeth.

“I didn’t bring enough supplies for this,” she grumbles, but gets to work anyway.

“He’s a god. He’ll make it,” I say, assuring myself more than anyone else. I turn back to him, smoothing hair from his face. “Heartwood?Can you hear me?” Though I can now hear his strained breathing, I press a hand to his neck to check for a pulse. It’s slow, but it’s there.

Salki brings me back to the task at hand. “Where is Moseus?”

My gut sinks to my hips. Where is he? We’ve searched everywhere ... was he hiding behind Machine Three?

“Pell.” Maglon takes a few steps forward.

Getting to my feet, I follow his gaze. I’d missed it, in the rush to get to Heartwood. There, camouflaged within the clinging dark, bubbles a hole like the one consuming the tower doors, but this one glimmers a violet so deep it borders on black.

It’s right over Machine Five’s protrusion.

“He’s outside.” My tongue sticks to the roof of my dry mouth. The windows are too narrow to fit him, and screened with that translucent material, so that hole must be a portal. He must know we’re here. We’ve only minutes left.

“Nophe.”

My thoughts crumble at Heartwood’s voice. Whirling around, I drop to his side. His eyes are open to hair-fine slits. His breath rattles up his throat.

“Heartwood, you’re going to be okay,” I promise, cradling his jaw. “Will your godhood pull you through? You’ll be okay, right?”

“Ru ... in,” he whispers, then coughs.

“I know. Will you be able to heal, with what it took?”

He coughs.

“Where is Moseus?”

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