Page 44 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
He shook his head to clear the thought of the two of them together on the other side of the mountains. He needed to concentrate. He squinted at the map once more and traced a finger along the route he was sure they’d taken. He hadn’t thought much of concealing their route—his only worry had been to get away as quickly as possible, and the Cerl hover had certainly delivered.
But if all Cerl hovers were like this one, why hadn’t anyone caught up to them? How hadn’t they caught up or overtaken theEudora Jaydeback in the autumn?
Unless they were purposefully following them for some reason.
Ben. He was the reason.
“You’re right,” Kase admitted, tamping down the knife twist of betrayal he felt at that thought. He remembered passing the Barrows, vaguely. He didn’t know for sure how far they’d gotten after, but no matter what, theyhadmade excellent time. If they kept on the same pace, they could possibly hit the capital in the next day or so, depending on just how far they’d gone past the Barrows, how long Kase was willing to fly for the day…and if their fuel held out.
He peeked over at the strange hover once more. Whatwasfueling it, anyway?
He folded up the map and handed it back to Stowe before scrambling up the hover wing. Stowe followed close behind, throwing up the packs and blanket. Kase caught them. Warmth spread from where his fingers and palms met the rough-spun blanket fibers. Kase stuffed the thing down beside his chair. Might come in handy. Whatever the Cerls had done with it, Kase wished he’d had it back in the mountain cavern with Hallie in the Pass, though he wasn’t sure he would have traded her sleeping snuggled against his back for warmth instead.
The engine hummed faintly when Kase revved it up. Dried blood smeared the label on the button; it flaked off when Kase scratched it with a fingernail. He rubbed at the other stain on the steering control before gripping it.
A deep chill filled his veins and arteries. He eyed the blanket. Maybe he should lay it over his knees.
No; he would be fine. The blanket would only make it awkward to fly, and doubly difficult to evade any who wished them harm. He had a job to do.
With a breath in and out, Kase pulled up on the steering control and eased his foot onto the accelerator. Gritting his teeth against the lingering cold, he flew into the early dawn light crawling over the horizon.
Chapter 8
NOT IDEAL
Niels
NIELS METZINGER HAD ALWAYS BEEN the strong one.
He never crumbled under pressure. The flashpistol graze in his shoulder and the bullet lodged in his lower thigh didn’t come close to the time he’d taken a pickax to the leg while training Guy’s youngest son in the mines. Or that day in late July when Hallie had walked out of his life without saying goodbye.
She’d been hurting; he knew that. But he’d been hurting, too; he’d lost his best friend in that accident. It’d been a stars-reckless ridiculous thing to do, exploring the mines for no good reason. Stupid. They should’ve known better than that.
Nielsshould’ve known better than that.
He’d gone over those last moments a million times in the last three years. The quaking rumble of stone was one he knew all too well. He’d been warned to either run for the exit or say his own final rites depending on where he stood in the mountaintunnels. Not even the Fogs could keep survival instincts like that at bay.
But survival instincts or not, if he could go back, he’d save Jack and sacrifice himself.
Jack had always been one for adventure. His plan had been to head off to the University of Jayde that coming summer and become a medic: the first small step on Jack’s grandiose path to fame and fortune.
He’d been certain the tunnel held the answers to the universe…or at least to how they couldallstrike it rich and dine on fine food and drink in the capital. If you asked Niels, he would have said it was Jack’s well-meaning way of trying to take them with him when he left. To not to feel guilty that he was leaving in the first place.
Niels had never wanted all that. Once Jack had left, Niels would’ve asked Hallie to marry him. Eighteen would’ve been rather young if they’d grown up anywhere besides Stoneset, but what else could Niels do? With his job in the mines, he didn’t have the luxury of growing old with someone. His mother had been endlessly angry that he’d doomed himself to the Fogs, but she’d also known they didn’t have a choice. His older brother’s trapping business had flopped, landing him with a pickaxe in hand himself, and his father’s farm had barely sustained them through the winter. They’d been poor…too poor to save enough money to send him to University with Jack. Few families in Stoneset could.
How ironic that none of it mattered in the end. Not one bit.
Jack had died. Hallie had taken his place in Kyvena. The Cerls had killed Niels’ family. Being in the mines had saved his life that day; his mother hadn’t lived to appreciate the irony in that.
And now, as he sat in the shadows of some ancient temple and stared at the King of Cerulene’s rubble-strewn body, all hecould think was that he’d give anything to be back in those mines. He’d give anything for the girl standing beside him to look at him with anything other than distrust. He played with the ring in his pocket to calm his nerves.
Hallie fell to her knees beside the prone Cerl King. His golden hair splayed on the cracked stone and metal bricks. A beam had fallen, pinning his lower body in place. Hallie clutched her stomach as if she was going to be sick.
The sun was only beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a shroud of ethereal beauty across the ruined temple. It contrasted mightily with the grotesque sight before him.
Niels dropped his pack and lowered himself next to the man who’d ordered his family’s deaths. Pain lanced through his arm and leg, nearly dropping him on his seat, but he gritted his teeth and lowered himself slowly instead, his bad leg outstretched.
Fingers shaking, Niels searched the king’s wrist for a pulse. His skin was like ice, but whether that was due to shock, blood loss, or simply the chilly morning, Niels didn’t know. The king’s pulse fluttered weakly. Soft, struggling breaths whistled through the man’s open mouth.
