“Down!” she ordered him.
Rhaif didn’t need the warning. The pounding in the sand was more than enough. He flung himself headlong, skidding on his chest across the sand.
Jaws snapped where he was—then shot over his sprawled body.
Steps away, Glace dropped to her knees and slid toward him. She stopped with Rhaif’s head between her thighs. She swept her sword high and cleaved the neck of the beast. Its head continued onward, chased by a fount of blood.
A large dead weight shoved into Rhaif from behind, further burying his face into Glace’s fork. The severed length of neck, still squirming in death, fell heavily over his back. Hot blood soaked him.
Glace scooted back and hauled him to his feet. “Get into the hold!”
To the side, Perde and Herl had dispatched two of the creatures. Swinging bloody axes, they charged toward the others.
From the top of the raft, Hyck shouldered a crossbow and fired a dart that struck an eye of a beast that had just crested the dune. Its neck writhed, tossing its head about, then collapsed to the sand. Its body rolled and tumbled down the sandy slope.
The rest of the pack—responding to the scent of blood, the sight of the dead—trumpeted their distress and thundered back around. They retreated for the safety of the water, vanishing over the dune.
Still, Rhaif hobbled toward the raft’s hold, his leg on fire. His hand probed and found the impaled barb. He tried to tug it out—then screamed, falling to a knee. It was barbed in place. He fought to stand again, but his assaulted leg would no longer hold his weight.
He rolled onto his hip.
Noting Rhaif’s distress, Hyck leaped to the sand and ran to him. Glace backed there, too, but kept her sword ready, facing the dune, prepared if the beasts should regain their bloodlust and attack again.
Hyck dropped next to him. “What’s wrong?”
Rhaif twisted enough to show the end of the barb sticking out from the meat of his upper thigh.
“Hold still,” the engineer warned, and removed a dagger from his belt.
“What are you gonna—”
Hyck sliced the back of Rhaif’s leggings, exposing buttock and leg. Blood welled and ran into the sand. The pain continued to spread, a fire eating away all control. He lost hold of his bladder, soiling himself and the sand. His stomach cramped. Agony strangled his breathing into gasps.
Hyck pointed the tip of his dagger at the blood. Where it welled out, it had begun to boil and go black.
Glace passed her judgement. “Poison.”
23
FROM A ROCKY rise on the beach, Graylin surveyed the village ahead. It climbed in a labyrinthine maze from the water’s edge up to the towering ice cliff. Hundreds of lanterns flickered, along with flames that rose from pots and urns.
The entire town looked like a conch shell cut in half and splayed open. It spread in convolutions and curves, all in hues of red and ocher. It looked sculpted in place—and likely was. With no trees growing in these lands, the homes, walls, and structures—some climbing as high as four or five tiers—had been formed out of the sands and turned into stone by some strange alchymy. All the roofs were thatched with dried kelp, casting a greenish hue that matched the neighboring waters, adding to the look of a seashell cast out onto the beach.
Only this shell wasn’t empty.
Laughter and shouts echoed across the sands, accompanied by the strum of strings and a merry beating of drums.
“Krystnell,” Daal said at his side. “Festival. Start at eventide.”
On Graylin’s other flank, Fenn shrugged. “If we’re gonna drop in, what better time than a celebration?”
Graylin kept his palm on the hilt of his sword, but he kept Heartsthorn sheathed. When they entered the village, they needed to avoid any outward sign of hostility. He wanted no misunderstanding. He glanced at Daal.
Like before.
Nyx had taken Bashaliia over to a nest of massive boulders that offered shelter in a small cave. They would leave the Mýr bat hidden there until after their introduction. Quartermaster Vikas would remain behind, guarding over Bashaliia with her broadsword. Along with Kalder. The vargr would also surely strike terror into any villager who spotted him, so he had to be left behind.
In addition, Krysh would stay there—to attend to Bashaliia’s wounds that had started to bleed again during the trek here.
