He looks past the edge, down the cliff face. His eyes lock on something in the mist that I cannot see.
"Trust me!" he bellows, his voice a raw, cracked roar.
Before Krell can react, Othic roars again, this time at the taura, andslashesthe reins, sending the beast into a final, terrified panic. He turns the cart, hard.
Toward the cliff.
The cart lurches forward, directly toward the open air. The taura screams, its hooves scrambling on the slick stone.
Krell shouts, his voice a mix of confusion and triumph. "He is killing himself!"
"Now!" Othic roars.
He does not just push me. He grabs me. His one good arm, a band of steel, wraps around my
waist andhaulsme from the seat.
He does not jumpdown. He jumpsout, leaping from the side of the cart with all his remaining strength, aiming for the spot in the mist.
We sail through the air for a heart-stopping second, a tangle of orc and human, and then wecrash.
We slam onto a narrow, hidden ledge, a deep, overgrown crack in the cliff-face masked by the heavy mist from a waterfall below. Thorns and branches rip at my clothes, but the rocky ground is solid beneath me.
The cart and the screaming taura do not stop. They go sailing out into the black, misty void.
I am tangled on the ledge, my heart stopped. I hear the taura's high-pitched wail fade... fade... fade... followed by a distant, shattering crash of wood and bone on the rocks hundreds of feet below.
Silence.
I peek through the thorns, my body shaking. Krell and his mercenaries are at the cliff's edge, peering down into the darkness.
"Hah!" one of them shouts. "The beast killed himself! And the girl with him!"
Krell sheathes his sword. "Good. Saves us the trouble. Privis gets his justice, and we get a bonus. Let's go. Eelry's filth can have what's left of them."
They laugh. They actuallylaugh. They wheel their horses around and ride away, back toward the city.
I am alone, tangled in a bush, on a hidden ledge, next to a massive, bleeding, and now-unconscious orc.
But...
But they are gone. They think we are dead.
We are free.
11
OTHIC
CRASH.
I hit the ledge first. The sound is a wet, scrapingthudof my body on stone, my back and wounded shoulder taking the full force to shield her. She lands on top of me, a lighter, breathless impact, and a tangle of sharp, woody thorns on the ledge rips into my leathers and my skin.
The roar of the waterfall is deafening, a physical weight that batters us. Cold spray hits my face, stinging my eyes, and I taste the grit of stone and river water. The ledge isnarrow. Barely wide enough for my shoulders. I feel a chunk of rock shift under my boot, skittering into the black, misty void below. One wrong move, and we plunge to the same death we just faked.
I hear nothing from above. Krell is gone. They are gone. They think we are dead.
We are not.
