Page 197 of The Cradle of Ice
Rhaif waved him off. “Don’t burn yourself. It’s only a little firepot I made.”
Perde rolled away and patted the scorch across his shirt, glaring at Rhaif.
“What was in that other?” Darant asked as he headed to the door.
Rhaif followed him, ticking off the ingredients. “Three parts refined flitch from the new forges, a fistful of powder from a hand-bomb, and just a dash of flashburn.”
“Write that down for me,” Darant said.
Glace joined them. “Good one on that ruse. Always knew you were a sneaky sod.”
“Thieving never leaves your blood,” he mumbled. “Even when you’re trying to save the world.”
Outside, the raash’ke had already laid into the fleeing Hálendiian forces. Several men thrashed under the throes of beating wings. Rhaif spotted the armored hulk of Ghryss pounding toward the dropped ramp of his swyftship.
One of his men turned and fired a crossbow. The bolt struck a small bat diving at them. It pierced a shoulder, sending the beast into a rolling crash into the sand. The archer fled away, rejoining Ghryss. Both were unaffected by the debilitating cries of the raash’ke—due to shield-helms protecting their ears.
Rhaif could guess where they had learned about such gear. Out on the plaza, Ghryss hauled Ularia along with him.
“Grab that ax,” Perde hollered to another of the crew. “Break these sodding chains.”
Rhaif glanced back. Perde stood over his dead brother, his face hard with fury. Rhaif made a silent promise to share a cask of ale with Perde, in honor of his fallen brother.
“Serves him right,” Darant mumbled.
Rhaif glanced back outside again. Ghryss had reached the bottom of the ramp into his ship. The bat with the wounded shoulder had righted itself and sped on wingtips and legs, running like a feral dog across the sand, racing with shocking swiftness toward the ramp.
Ghryss bellowed and sprinted up the ramp, but the raash’ke took flight, barreling through the air straight at him. The Hálendiian used his only weapon. He flung Ularia, still clutched by the arm, and tossed her at the beast. She flew high, arms pinwheeling, and struck the bat.
They both splashed down into the shallows.
Knocked free, Ularia sputtered up. She scrabbled on hands and knees back to the sand. The bat lunged out, snagging fangs into the back of her thigh. She screamed, then louder as jaws snapped bones and her leg was ripped off. She fell flat, but she still tried to claw away, trailing blood.
The bat leaped high and landed on her back. Claws snagged into ribs. It flapped off the sand, carrying her with it. It must have forgotten its injured shoulder and slammed back down, crushing Ularia. It tried again with the same result.
Ularia mewled and weakly squirmed.
Rhaif had to turn away. “Even she didn’t deserve that.”
Darant disagreed. “She sold out her own men. Got them killed. Left them as carrion, taking only their bulky helms.” He thumbed to a pile at the back. “She merits no pity.”
A loud boom drew their attention. From the stern of the Drakyl, a sailraft blasted out. Its keel skidded the waves, then its gasbag burst taut above it. Its forge ignited with a blast of flames, casting the raft high, propelling it swiftly across the sea.
“Bastard had a fourth sailraft,” Rhaif muttered.
Darant glowered. “A personal escape ship.”
Over the plaza, a flock of wings gave chase, but Ghryss had a good head start.
“What now?” Perde asked.
Rhaif stiffened and grabbed Darant’s arm. “Brayl…”
“What about my daughter?”
Rhaif gave a short account and pointed beyond the village. “We must get to her.” He turned to Perde. “And bring that ax.”
Glace stepped forward, tying off her hand with the sleeve of a dead man’s shirt. “I need a couple of the crew.”
