16
Lara
Lara struggled to keep pace with the Ithicanians, the stale air burning in her chest as the group sprinted through the bridge. Only luck allowed her to notice when Lia planted a foot square on a mile marker, her mouth moving silently as she began counting her strides.
Lara picked up Lia’s count, storing away the number when the other woman held up a hand and skidded to stop. Jor boosted her on his shoulders while the rest prepared their gear. None of them spoke, and Lara kept to the shadows as she watched Lia reach up to press her palm against what appeared to be smooth stone. There was a heavy click, then, with a heave of effort, she lifted up a hinged hatch in the ceiling of the bridge.
Another way in.
Triumph rushed through Lara even as cool air gusted inside, catching at the loose strands of her hair as Jor and Aren lifted the other soldiers into the opening. Then Jor was up, and only she and Aren remained.
“You ever reveal any of this to anyone, I’ll kill you myself.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Lara by the waist and raised her up into the opening.
Jor caught hold of her arms, lifting her onto the top of the bridge before leaning down to haul Aren up as well, the two of them flipping the hatch shut. But it was hard for Lara to focus on what the men were doing, because she stood on a bridge through the clouds.
Wet mist had settled back on Ithicana while they’d been inside, and it whirled and gusted, pulling at her clothes before spinning away in violent little eddies. Below, the sea crashed against a pier or an island or maybe both—she couldn’t tell. Couldn’t see more than a dozen paces in either direction, and it was like being in a totally different world. Like being in a dream that stood on the brink of a nightmare.
“Be careful,” Aren warned, taking her hand. “It’s slippery, and we’re at a high point. You wouldn’t survive the fall.”
She followed him at a slow run, everyone struggling to keep their balance on the slick surface as the bridge sloped down toward the next pier, which Lara could only faintly see through the mist. But before they reached it, the guards all dropped as though given an invisible cue, Aren hauling her down with him.
As Lara’s hands pressed against the wet stone, her eyes landed on a mile marker, the wheels in her mind turning as a strategy for invasion began to form.
Jor had a spyglass out, which panned this way and that before freezing in place. “Amarid naval vessel.” He passed the glass to Aren, who looked once, then swore.
“We should wait for reinforcements,” Jor continued, taking the glass back and crawling to the opposite side of the bridge, staring out in the same direction as the rest of the soldiers. The mist swirled, revealing an island for a heartbeat before obscuring it again. “Once they get their whole crew on land, we’ll be badly outnumbered.”
No one spoke, and it was then that the winds shifted direction. With them came the screams.
“We go now,” Aren ordered.
None of the guards argued. One of them attached a cable to a thick metal ring embedded in the bridge, the other end fixed to a heavy bolt that was fitted into a weapon designed like a crossbow. Then he handed it to Aren. “You do the honors, Your Grace?”
Aren took the weapon, kneeling on the stone. “Come on,” he muttered. “Let me see.”
The winds stalled, and no one seemed to breathe. Lara dug her fingers into the stone, watching and waiting, the anticipation making her heart race. Then the air roared against them, sweeping away the clouds, and Aren smiled once.
He released the bolt with a loud twang, grunting against the force of the recoil. The bolt soared toward the island, trailing the slender cable after it, and with a loud crack audible even from the distance, it spiked through one of the trees.
The soldier who’d given him the weapon tightened up the slack on the cable and knotted it off. Then, with seemingly no fear, he pulled on a heavy glove, attached a hook over the cable, and swung out into the open air. Lara watched in amazement as the man shot along the wire over the open sea, going faster and faster until he was over land, and then reached up with the glove and slowed himself, dropping like a cat into the brush beneath the tree.
The rest of the soldiers followed swiftly, but as Lara glanced over her shoulder, she determined Aren wasn’t paying them the slightest bit of attention. Instead, he was mixing powders into a small bladder. As she watched, he added water to the mixture, then, very carefully, attached the device to an arrow with a bit of twine. He lifted it to his bow and shot it at the ship anchored below.
Seconds later, an explosion shook the air, the ship visible through the mist as flames climbed the rigging. “That ought to keep them busy.”
Slinging his bow over his shoulder, he removed a hook and glove like the others had used. “I’m going to need you to hold onto me.”
Wordlessly, Lara wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Heat rushed through her as he pulled her tight against him with his free hand.
“Don’t scream.” He flipped the hook over the line and jumped.
Lara barely contained her shriek, clinging to him as they dropped, soaring downward at incredible speed. Below, the surf broke against the island cliffs, and she could make out the longboats retreating from a small cove to the burning ship to assist their comrades. Wind roared in her ears, and then they were above green jungle.
“Hold on tight,” he said into her ear, then he let go of her, reaching up with a gloved hand to grip the cable, checking their speed until they hung safely above the others.
Lara let go, landing among them, and she purposely wobbled and fell on her ass even as Aren landed with predatory grace next to her. In a practiced move, he extracted a leather mask identical to those all the guards were now wearing and pulled it over his face.
“Stay here,” he whispered. “Keep out of sight and watch out for snakes.”
Then they were gone.
Lara waited until the count of fifty, then went after them, knives in hand. She moved carefully, trusting that their passage would have sent any snakes racing away. It wasn’t difficult to determine the direction they’d gone; she only had to follow the screams.
A battle waged in a village, the interiors of the stone houses ablaze, countless dead and dying lying on the paths running between them. Some had been armed, most had not. Families. Children. All cut down by the Amaridian soldiers fighting Aren and his guards. Keeping behind a tree, Lara watched the King of Ithicana hurl himself against the other men, machete in one hand, dagger in the other, leaving only corpses in his wake. He fought like he’d been born to it, fearless, but clever, and she found herself unable to look away.
Until shouts from the beach caught her attention. Abandoning her position, Lara retreated in that direction, her stomach tightening as she caught sight of the Amaridian soldiers moving up the trail toward the village. The ship was fully engulfed with fire, which meant these were desperate men with no avenue for escape. And Aren and his bodyguard were outnumbered three to one. Unless she wanted Amarid to be the kingdom taking control of the bridge, she needed to even the odds.
Lara picked a point just around the corner from a gap in a towering pair of rocks through which the soldiers would have to pass.
Two soldiers rounded the bend, starting in surprise at the sight of her standing in their path. “It’s her. The Maridrinian girl.”