Oh gods!
Everyone was screaming. Castimir yelled as a stinging pain scalded his left hand as he fell backward over the balloon’s edge.
I’m going to fall!
But he already was. The safety line was slack at his belt. He flailed out to grab at anything he could, yet there was nothing within reach. The world turned end over end-the sky, the burning balloon, and dark waters rushing up, the howls of werewolves-
Then he struck the swamp. His satchel wrenched itself around his throat as he sank into black waters.
He surfaced with a cry as someone grabbed him and dragged him away from the ruins of the balloon. He kicked with his feet, trying anything to keep his head above the surface as he took in as much air as he could.
And then he saw what had become of Hope Soars.
It was impaled upon a dead black tree, the balloon rising and sinking into the very waters in which he had fallen, still collapsing slowly. He blinked away the moisture and sought the detail. He saw Doric shout a curse as the dwarf hacked his way free of the netting. He was one of the few left aboard, for in the waters near him splashed a dozen other survivors.
The bottom half of the burner lay beneath the surface, but the balloon’s master clung grimly to the portion that jutted into the air.
“We’re not clear yet!” Castimir was relieved to hear Kara’s voice. “The wolves of Canifis are coming. Come on, the Salve is probably no more than half a mile away.”
“And what of the Vyrewatch?” he asked as he neared the shore and his feet found the bottom of the swamp. He still had his satchel, and the runes that lay within.
At least I will be able to use fire magic now.
“I don’t think there are any of the creatures left,” Kara said. “But where are Pia and Jack?”
They might be dead, Kara.
Castimir waded out of the swamp and onto dry land. People were calling out in the morning light, though now that they were on the ground again, the green vapour stole the sunlight, reminding the wizard of a murky twilight. The voices mixed with the sounds of their pursuers.
The howls were closer now, and Castimir wondered whether they could make it to the Salve in time. He saw others that shared his worry. Quickly yet carefully he began to sort his runes.
“Come on,” Karnac urged his people. “Get up and out of the water. Take the person nearest to you and do not leave them. We can still get out alive. Now, come on!”
When the wizard looked up again, he saw that the survivors of Hope Rock had gathered into a group, now fewer than twenty. He recognised the pregnant woman, breathless and weeping, and the spirit woman, too. Pia and Jack were there, as well, the girl’s face a fearful white as she watched Albertus. He bore a wound across his face, though it no longer bled.
The old man was perched upon Gideon Gleeman’s back. The jester bore him with ease, despite his own injuries, as if he were no more than a child. At Gideon’s side-his face a mask of pain-was the gnome Peregrim.
From the perimeter of the group, he noted Theodore, wielding his sword in preparation. Doric stood behind the knight, his wolfbane dagger drawn. On the opposite side stood Kara, absolutely still, her adamant sword held in her right hand, the sword Kingsguard in her left. Thrust through her belt was her own dagger, unhindered now by any sheath.
“Come on,” Despaard urged. “We haven’t much time left.”
Swiftly, the frightened, bedraggled group moved off, until only the wizard and his friends remained, leaving Castimir feeling exposed.
“Shouldn’t we follow?” he asked Kara, unable to keep the fear from his voice.
“We will give them a few seconds to get ahead,” she replied, her eyes never leaving the foliage. “We fight a rear-guard action today.”
Against the whole of Canifis?
The howls weren’t far away now, and it seemed as if there were two distinct groups. One to the north and one to the south.
If they have run all the way from Canifis they must be exhausted.
“Maybe the pack has had to split up to find its way around this pool,” Doric suggested in a low voice.
Kara nodded.
“You might be right-”
The foliage to the north burst apart as a grey wolf leapt out. He gave a great breath and turned to Kara, who stood nearest.
“Where is the dwarf?”
Castimir reacted instantly. The runes melted in his hands and he summoned his strength.
“No!” Doric was at his side. The dwarf seized his hand and forced it up, away from the werewolf, where his half-finished spell sent a spark of discordant fire from his hands.
The creature laughed. It had made no attempt to move.
“I return my favour to you, dwarf,” it said. “I uphold my oath for the final time today. You and your companions are safe for now, for I led the pack to the edge of a lake. It will give you time enough to get to the river and escape.”
“Thank you, Imre,” Doric uttered.
The wolf laughed again.
“Don’t thank me, dwarf. It is an old trick we use, the howling. Prey fear it, of course, but they believe it gives our location away. Not so. Five of Canifis’s best hunters have already moved to cut off those ahead of you, for such folk were not included in our bargain.
“Like I have said, you and your friends here are safe. The others will die.”
“No,” Kara yelled. “No!”
She turned and ran to the west, and Imre called after her.
“You are too late, little girl, too late. Can’t you hear? The slaughter has already begun!”
A scream came from the west-a cry of terror followed by a snarl. The cry ceased, and Castimir thought of the pregnant woman, of her fear. He caught sight of Arisha at his side, already turning to follow Kara.
No! No more deaths! No more!
He ran to catch her up, Theodore and Doric behind.
The sounds of violence were growing.