Royo’s a little behind me, but he’s staying in my tracks. It’s clever.
I face forward and barely avoid slamming into a tree. I muffle a scream as my face comes within inches of an oak.
Lesson learned.
Heart pounding, I pay attention. I steady my breathing and focus on carving as straight and safe a path as I can, but it’s sharply downhill from here. This is not the way we came, but it’s the fastest route off the mountain. I don’t worry about my steps or balance, because the second you overthink it is the moment you fall. But I can’t tell Royo that. We need to continue in silence. We need to just keep going.
It took us five bells to reach the nest. It takes less than one bell to hit the foothills.
But we do make it.
We pause at the base of the mountain, where the ground finally levels out. We aren’t safe yet. We won’t be until we get on our horses and ride far away, but we’re off the slopes.
We’ve done it. We got the egg before sunset.
I’ve run with the egg cradled in my arms this entire time, and I readjust to make it more secure against me.
Royo nods at me, breathing so hard he’s red-faced and wheezing. I don’t think he runs much—he’s more of a stand-and-fight kind of guy.
I let him catch his breath. I’m relieved that our horses are still tied to the trees. We might actually make it out of this. If we gallop, we can put two miles, maybe three, between us and the mountain before sunset. I’m not sure about the birds’ hunting radius, so the more distance, the better.
Royo stands straight, ready to run again. We take off a little slower than I’d like, but I stay with him, matching his speed.
We’re halfway to the horses when the wind swirls. I squint, throwing my arm up to shade my eyes as white falls from the sky. I think it’s a snow squall, but then I realize it’s not snow. It’s…down.
Feathers rain on us. Then I see giant wings. And claws.
An amarth lands in the snow. It is powerfully built like an enormous, white eagle, except for its gruesome, humanlike face. Its sharp brown eyes home in on the egg I’m cradling.
Gods, we’re dead.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Euyn
The Ice Caves, Khitan
Gods on High, we’re trapped. I struggle, twisting my body, but Mikail and I are in a net, pressed to the ceiling of the empty mausoleum.
I barely felt the loose stone underfoot before the trap sprang shut. Impressive, but the entire place is a snare designed to catch thieves looking for a prize. There’s no glass coffin, no body of Staraheli in here. I wonder if it was all a setup, a bad source who lied to Mikail and led us to our deaths.
I hold my breath and wait for the Marnans. They are known to impale intruders on spikes. There were half a dozen snow-covered skeletons on pikes as we approached. They don’t burn the bodies here. No, instead of being released, our souls will be left to rot for all time.
A fitting end for me.
But even though I listen for the slightest sound, no one comes.
I exhale. Mikail must simply have had old information. Still, we’re now stuck in this net.
“Kingdom of Hells,” Sora whispers. “What just happened?”
I look down and see that Sora is free. She was last inside and closest to the door, so the net must have missed her when it swept us up.
She tilts her head, her eyes moving rapidly.
“I’ll cut the rope,” Mikail says. He takes out a dagger because there isn’t room to wield a sword in this spiderweb.
I free my dagger as well and try to cut the net. From the feel of it, I can tell it won’t work. I sever a few threads, but then I hit metal. It must be rope meshed with steel. I didn’t think the Marnans knew how to make such things. This is shockingly advanced.
