Toward the entrance to the camp, I see Kel and Rosie sheltering behind a golden briar patch. Purple thorns burst up, encircling them and their men. Caspian stands in the center.
A man with a huge black sword screams loud enough for the whole camp to hear: “Mobilize the mole riders! It is time for our assault on the bridge!”
As I’m swept away into the earth, I catch Aquila’s gaze once more. She smiles that serpentine smile, picks up her net, and waves. “See you later, gorgeous. We’ll be up there soon.”
34
Caspian
My mind spins with the amount of briars I’ve shot out, trying toweave their paths up to the surface all at the same time. I collapse on the bridge, pulling my final threads. Dayton’s flung way to my left, completely naked. Rosie and Kel are far over to my right, immediately untangling from my briars and assuming fighting stances. I got half of Kel’s team up too, but the rest are dead, all felled by a single swing.
As soon as Rosalina’s order rang through my mind, I felt for her briars and followed a path there. One of the underfae, a man with antlers grander than any crown, raised a massive black sword. A single strike was all it took to end five men.
Dayton’s team were dead before I even had a chance to get them out. These underfae…each one fights like an ancient master.
Breath labored, I spin in a circle, trying to take everything in. Irahn is a speck in the distance, but somehow he still radiates with authority. The huge flag with the sigil of Winter flaps in the wind high upon its wooden pike. His voice booms out, mobilizing his soldiers. The Deep Guard dip arrows in oil and setthem ablaze, draw swords and spears, and ready themselves at the walls.
Quickly, I throw my hood up. I’m not supposed to be on the bridge, not after what happened the last time one of the Deep Guard got a look at me.
Irahn’s voice is a battle cry: “They’re coming!”
I run to the edge and peer into the chasm. I’m no stranger to war, but my heart near crashes out of my ribs. Explosions rocket forth from the walls of the chasm. Monstrous shapes emerge: giant moles, their hairless bodies clad only in armor. Their eyes are black voids. Perched atop their backs are underfae riders, each one armed with spears, knives, and bows. Of course these bastards would be masters in every weapon known to the Vale.
More moles carve through the chasm’s walls with terrifying speed, their claws ripping stone like parchment. They’ll need to find their way up to the bridge, but?—
I look straight down. Moles ascend the elevator lifts as if they’re climbing ladders, using their claws to dig into the abutments of the bridge. From the moles’ paths, more horned fae surge forward like ants from a broken hill. They carry an arsenal of grappling hooks and picks. Ropes soar through the air, snagging onto the Voidseal’s railings and supports.
Within minutes, the entire bridge will be swarmed.
I stagger away from the edge. We never expected this many…
If the six of us could barely take down one, what chance do we have against an army?
A burst of bright light shines in my periphery, and a flaming wolf sprints toward me. I blink against the intensity of Farron’s luminescent body. But he doesn’t stop running. I barely leap out of the way before he jumps over me, teeth snapping at a giant mole that’s just scaled the wall. He rips out the throat of the grotesque beast, then hurls it back over the side into the chasm. Its rider’s scream fades as he falls.
Farron turns back to me, maw bloodied. “You’re not supposed to be on the bridge.”
“I know, but there’s nothing like a swarm of murderous mole men to make a man feel popular.”
“Get up to the airship,” Farron growls. “You can offer aerial support from there.”
I look up.Flutterwing, the airship—once part of the Green Rule’s fleet—now flies low. Ezryn stands at the bow, shouting orders to his archers. A volley of arrows rains down, hitting the side of the bridge. Pained cries echo out in response. “Fine.”
A strange sound enters the cacophony of screams and clatter of metal. A whirring, mechanical screech. Then laughter.
Crazed,annoyinglaughter.
“Well, well, well! If it isn’t Sira’s precious boy! Finally flown the coop, have you,Your Highness?” The last words are said with such derision, I’m not surprised when Perth Quellos’s shining, bald head comes into view over the side of the bridge.
He’s riding a strange flying contraption. Its shine means it could only be made of Spring steel. He sits astride a narrow saddle, holding tight to two handlebars, connected by a panel of gears and levers. Behind him, twin propellers glow with phantasmal green light. So this thing is powered by the Green Flame.
Perth looks even more ridiculous than he usually does due to a pair of round reflective goggles he has strapped to his bald head.
“So this is where you’ve been, old man. Hiding away and building toys,” I jeer.
Perth smacks his blue-stained lips. “Oh, I’ve been doing much more than you can possibly imagine! Sadly, I can’t take credit for this lovely little machine. This is Kairyn’s creation.” He searches the length of the bridge. “Now, where is that boy?Never mind. I can show you the power of Quellos all on my own!”
Great. Wrenley’s metal dog is here. Just what we?—
