Screams cut through the night. Then the mountain swallowed them—a roar like a thousand fists pounding stone, drowning out everything human.
The Shee warriors sprinted past, cloaks billowing behind them. Cailean heaved Eithne onto his stallion’s withers, while Roth hauled Duana up, both girls dangling half-on, half-off. Bree dragged Annis by the arm, their horses plunging and rearing. Vyr threw himself onto Ruari’s pony, the seer clutching his waist. Sablebane did the same with Ren.
“Move! Move!” Someone shouted—maybe Cailean, maybe Roth—the words shredded by the thunder of the landslide.
A rock the size of a skull slammed into the ground three feet away. Then another. And another. The air turned to grit, dirt boiling up in choking waves that scraped Lara’s throat raw.
Black fur streaked past—Mor and Dorka, the clag-doo’s muscles bunching and releasing. Green followed—Skaal, low to the ground, ears flat.
Lara wrapped her fists in Bracken’s mane. The mare’s body heaved beneath her, foam already flecking her neck. Behind her, Alar’s arm locked around her waist like an iron bar.
“Go!” he urged the mare forward.
The path unwound before them—too narrow, too dark, each turn coming too fast. Bracken’s hooves skidded on loose stone. A drop yawned just beyond the path’s edge, a void waiting to swallow them.
The mountain bucked. Shuddered. Tried to throw them off its back.
Lara’s lips moved—a prayer to the Gods, though she couldn’t hear her own voice over the deafening roar behind them. Every instinct screamed at her to look back, to see how close death was riding.
But she didn’t.
23: NO SOFT WORDS
“REMIND ME TO never piss off a cnoc-bane.”
Cailean’s gravelly voice shattered the eerie stillness that had followed the rockfall.
Vyr muttered something under his breath in response. “We should have offered them something before retiring … even a song or two might have helped.”
Ren, who now rode with Vyr, grimaced. “Aye … but we were all exhausted,” she murmured. “We forgot about them.”
They’d just pulled up their horses, farther down the mountain. Fern and those who’d fled on foot were bent over, panting from their sprint.Fortunately, the Shee were fast. None of the Marav could have outrun that deadly wave.
The rockslide had ended, and a deep hollow silence had settled. In the moonlight, Lara could see that many of her companions—Shee and Marav alike—bore cuts from the rocks and stones that had rained down on them before the mountainside gave way. Skaal was limping.
“We should keep going,” Alar said roughly. “There isn’t enough space here for us to camp.”
“Aye … there’s a ledge farther down,” Cailean agreed. “Let’s go.”
They urged their mounts on.
“Where’s your stag?” Lara asked, suddenly aware of how close she and Alar were sitting. The heat of his body was a furnace against her back. Now that they were no longer fleeing for their lives, embarrassment flushed over her. The front of his thighs pressed against the back of hers. It was too intimate.
“Reedav and the others traveled farther down the mountain when we made camp,” he replied. “They’ll rejoin us at dawn.”
Bracken stumbled then, and Lara lurched forward. Alar’s arm looped around her waist, catching her. She fell back against him. For an instant, the hardness of his lithe body pressed indecently against hers.
And then, mercifully, he released her.
Lara pulled herself forward onto Bracken’s withers. It was uncomfortable to perch there, but preferable to the distracting strength and heat of his body.
“Your cheek was bleeding earlier.” Alar’s voice was subdued, with a wary edge to it now. “Did you get hit anywhere else?”
“No.”Gods. Why did her voice sound so breathless? “And you?”
“Just a knock to the forehead.” He paused then. “We were lucky.”
“Thanks to you.” She forced the words out. They needed to be said. If Alar hadn’t reacted so swiftly, they’d have been swallowed by the rockslide. “You acted fast.”
