Page 76 of The Cradle of Ice
Jace crouched across from her, cradling a hot mug of fish stew in his hands. The fare had been meant for a feast following the festival. But no one was celebrating. Even Daal’s parents hovered by a small oven with Henna, clearly relieved but far from joyous.
Mournful bells rang a slow dirge that echoed across Iskar.
A short while ago, back on the plaza, Graylin had collected their group and led them here. The village needed time to gather their dead, to grieve for their loss. He didn’t want them in the way, nor did he want that sorrow to have a target. Even the Reef Farer had waved them off, but not before clasping Graylin on the shoulder, silently expressing his thanks.
Still, they all knew such gratefulness could quickly sour.
The next days would be fragile for all.
As testament to the tension and edginess, they all jumped when the drape over the doorway burst open. Jace spilled stew onto his lap and leaped up with a gasp.
But there was no cause for alarm.
Daal shoved inside, breathless and tired. “Neffa is fine,” he announced. “She’s scared, but I calmed her. A shoalman is gathering the other orksos and moving them to deeper waters, getting them clear of the wreckage. The docks and shoreline are a treacherous ruin of broken boats and cracked piers.”
“What about Shiya and Fenn?” Jace asked.
Daal nodded. He had left with those two for the docks. “I found them a boat that was still hale enough to reach your big ship.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if they can roust enough others to rescue your friends.”
Nyx swallowed, worried. Shiya had related her story. Her sailraft had crashed atop a small island. With no way off, the bronze woman had crossed the seabed on foot, drawn by the flames of Iskar. As she neared the shore, she had sensed the bridling threat and rushed to their aid.
But now Rhaif and the others need her.
Daal crossed and hugged his mother and nodded to his father. Floraan passed him a bowl of the stew. He joined them at the table, but before he could settle, a spate of shouts and panicked cries erupted in the distance.
Nyx threw off her blanket and stood.
Are we being attacked again?
Daal set his bowl down and rushed to the door. Nyx followed, while Jace grabbed his ax from beside the table. Meryk came, too, but Floraan stayed with her daughter.
Daal pulled aside the drape, holding an arm up to keep everyone back. The flow of cries and screams drew closer. A pair of villagers fled past the doorway.
“Hen wrag?” Daal called to them.
His inquiry was ignored as the two vanished out of sight.
Daal glanced with confusion at Nyx and the others—then a familiar rumbling growl reached them, underlaid by a threatening chitter.
Relieved, Nyx pushed Daal’s arm aside and slipped past him. “That’s Kalder.”
No wonder the villagers are panicked.
Down a curve of the street, Graylin appeared, flanked by the massive vargr and trailed by the mountainous figure of Quartermaster Vikas and the robed shape of Alchymist Krysh. The knight had gone to check on the others, those who had been left hidden in a nest of boulders outside the village. As they approached, Kalder’s hackles shivered down his back. His tall ears swiveled in all directions, alert for danger. The others looked equally wary and dour.
But at least they had survived.
Graylin spotted Nyx at the door and waved her back. Once the way was clear, he hurried his group inside. Kalder, too, but the vargr remained at the threshold, padding in a nervous circle near the door.
Daal’s parents retreated farther back, guarding over Henna.
The girl assured them, “Gree Kalder. Nee fayr.”
Nyx noted one member of the group remained missing. Bashaliia. Still, she understood why Graylin had left the Mýr bat behind. After the attack by the raash’ke, it would be a horrible time to introduce Bashaliia, especially considering the villagers’ reaction to Kalder stalking through their streets.
Nyx turned to Graylin. “How is Bashaliia faring? Is he all right being left behind?”
Graylin winced, his expression pained. He glanced at Krysh. The alchymist stared down to his toes. Even Quartermaster Vikas would not meet her eye.
