Page 69 of The Cradle of Ice
“Is there another shelter?” Nyx asked.
He shook his head. “Too far.”
Shouts drew Nyx’s attention back toward the sea. From this level of the village, she had a partial view of the plaza, where a battle had begun. The village had rallied after the initial shock. Guardsmen had clambered atop rooftops or perched on walls. Two ran past Nyx and Daal with steel-tipped tridents. They were armored in leather and wearing winged helms that bulged at the ears.
Above the streets, barrages of fiery arrows sailed into the sky. A few hit targets, ripping through wings or grazing bodies—but little damage was done. The raash’ke proved to be uncannily swift and agile. Nyx wondered if the bats were using their songs in defense as much as offense. The beasts seemed to anticipate the strikes before they hit, angling away at the last breath.
Her brows bunched. She didn’t understand how the guardsmen resisted that malignant bridle-song. They couldn’t all be like Daal. She wondered if the bulging over their ears somehow protected them, deafened them. She glanced to the shelter behind her. Having lived in the Crèche for millennia, the Pantheans had clearly developed a method of surviving in the shadow of such dread beasts.
Still, the battle remained fraught. Bodies were ripped off the streets. More bats hunted, killing indiscriminately in their fury. They slashed throats, tore off limbs. She watched a bat dig through the reed roof of a home and burrow inside.
Most of the attacks centered on the open plaza, where the creatures’ great wings were not impeded by the narrow streets.
Daal drew her toward one of the homes, likely believing any shelter was better than none. She shook free. Anger had warmed away the last of her dismay. Iskar was being attacked because of her group. The Sparrowhawk had led the horde down here.
It’s our fault.
She couldn’t just hide and cower.
“Krem,” he urged her.
She shook her head. Determined and more clearheaded, she gathered her energies and sang brighter, casting a wider golden shield. Its sudden appearance surprised one of the raash’ke as it dashed past overhead. It shied away with a burst of black wings, like a startled crow.
Daal took a step back, too, his eyes huge upon her.
So, he can see my glow.
Still, that mystery would have to wait. She pointed to the plaza. “I must help my friends.”
She intended to search for the others—Jace, Fenn, Graylin—and, if possible, revive them with her song. She refused to sit idly by when they were at risk, vulnerable to fang and claw.
That’s if they still lived.
Daal continued to gape at the glow surrounding her—unfortunately, he was not the only one to note it.
Another bat, likely drawn by the shine, dove at them. It screamed, washing its malice over her shield. She fought, trying to bridle it and drive it back. But it was far stronger than she expected, especially for a lone raash’ke. As they battled, she understood why. She sensed a larger malevolence within that body, one she recognized from the attack on the Sparrowhawk.
The horde-mind of the raash’ke.
She felt it staring at her, like a massive ice-cold eye, larger than the world. The immensity of that gaze shattered her control. She tried to wrest it back, but the monster was too strong.
With a cry, she fell to a knee.
Daal rushed to her side. “Nyx…”
His concern cost him dearly. Free now, the bat swept down upon them—and went for the easiest prey. Claws snatched the limp form of Henna from her brother’s arms, snagging the back of her festival dress. She was yanked skyward with a beat of wings.
“Henna!” Daal screamed.
Nyx lunged to her feet.
No …
* * *
GRAYLIN HUDDLED NEAR the threshold of a dark chamber. His heart pounded in his throat. He stared at the carnage outside, at the war being waged across the plaza and in the skies.
On the sands, guardsmen fought with flaming spears and lances, trying to drive off hordes of bats, which fluttered in the air or crawled among the dead. Other men tried to drag bodies to safety, celebrants who had succumbed to the paralyzing bridle-song of the raash’ke.
