“LADY!” Rin shrieked.
As if she could not tell an airborne vehicle shaped like a flattened bat was about to smoosh them and the horse into nothing.
“Keep your head down and hang tight!” she screamed at him. His arms tightened around her waist, and he dug his face into her back.
Faelan never should have asked him to accompany them. If he died . . .
The Swift’s motor sputtered and made a long, whirring sound; the green lights on the bottom of the ship flashed furiously. Another Swift dodged a cyan-colored aerial attack and tapped it, sending both into a spin. The wing to her right lurched up, and the left tore into the dirt in front of them. The craft pivoted, the left wing breaking from the body, debris hurling into the air.
The horse collected himself and bounded onto the flat top of the right wing as it cut under them and ran up the shiny metal. Lapis found herself rising in an instinctual pose to help her mount, and Rin’s grip slid. He ground his fingers into her hips, fighting to stay put.
A short, stubby something broke from the top of the vehicle and fell in their way. “Jump jump!” she shrieked, a useless, terrified call. He gathered himself again and soared high, clearing the object with room to spare. He landed hard on the slick surface, slid, but kept going along the slightly different route. She patted his shoulder.
“Good boy! Good boy!” She squeezed her knees into the saddle as they reached the gap between the body and the left wing.
He did not pause but soared over it and streaked down the side.
They hit the dirt with a shower of soil and raced away from the buried tip. The body of the Swift swept around, rotating from the broken wing. It smacked into the earth, but the right wing continued towards them. The horse hurdled the wide obstacle, his hind hooves tinging down on the edge but not making him fall. He lengthened his stride, as eager to leave the craft as she was.
The second Swift skidded across the ground before flipping, flinging hunks of metal their way. The horse shied away, into the path of several thin, manned vehicles which had left the road to avoid the slow traffic going the wrong way. A sudden flare of orange broke the night; the one behind them had caught fire.
“Go!” she called, smacking the reins against his shoulder. She did not want to be anywhere near an explosion of Dentherion tech that large. Her mount surged on, weaving between the roaring vehicles. She used the reins to guide him to the left or right, and only a light touch to his neck caused him to dodge. A well-trained horse; she needed to thank her brother for placing her on one.
He could not quite avoid one bike and jumped. His back hooves did not even graze the hunched rider’s helmet. He was amazing!
“Shit!” Rin squeaked, worried, as the Swift exploded, hot air rushing around them and setting the grass on fire.
Flaming wreckage flew everywhere, large bits bouncing around them and taking out a few riders. The horse jumped over crashed bike and soldier alike, and she leaned hard inside so he could curve around fiery chinks. Cyan flashes continued to flare overhead from missed strikes against the Swifts, but none lowered to take out the ground vehicles. Good. That was all they needed, to dodge tech weapons, too.
She urged her mount to Crandleberry, where frightened animals fought their owners. The oxen did as poorly as the horses, only they had more strength backing them, and if their cart flipped and cracked, they dragged it behind them. A couple went down with their wagon, causing the Dentherion vehicles still on the road to careen into the soft soil beyond to avoid collisions.
Perhaps Crandleberry was not the best choice of escape.
The land held hidden dangers, like holes and large rocks. Lapis could not keep the horse there much longer without slowing down. She patted his shoulder. “Whoa, whoa,” she cooed. He shook his head and slowed to a trot. “Good boy,” she told him in a calm tone. She continued to speak slowly, serenely, until he felt safe enough to return to a walk. “Faelan trained you well, didn’t he?” she asked, stroking his neck.
“Lady, this’s what it’s like, chasin’ with you?” Rin asked.
She hoped her irritated glare burned his pants off. Stupid rat, no it was not. He grinned and laughed, squeezing her near in half.
“I think I likes it.”
“Did I really agree to train you and Lykas?” she grumbled. She took a huge breath; now that the terrifying experience had ended, her stomach rolled, she ached, and she prayed to the non-existent gods that she did not puke before reaching the Eaves.
Lapis had dodged Meergevenis tech, a downed Swift, the two-wheeled vehicles driven by soldiers, snuck past the gate guards and city patrols to reach the Eaves, but did not manage to avoid an impatient Lyet and a grumpy older woman standing at the back door.
The woman wore a rich golden dress of fine silk and a warm, gold-embroidered dark blue coat. She had light blonde hair and snappy eyes reminiscent of Patch’s. Lapis slid from the horse, fighting the bile back down her throat, and wondered why someone who dressed like that stood with Lyet.
She suspected her doctor visited to check on her and found her absent.
The steady rocking of her mount had soothed her, but now, on her own two feet, without fear and adrenaline pushing her, her sickness refused to be kept at bay. She streaked inside, up the stairs, and barely made it to the restroom before whatever healing brew remained in her stomach rushed up and out.
“I was planning to yell,” an unfamiliar voice told her drily. “But you are reaping the reward for your foolishness, so I’ll remain quiet.”
Which she did quite well.
Lyet retrieved a wet towel and Lapis wiped at her face, trembling. With Rin’s help, she made it to his room, where she collapsed on the bed, nauseous and aching. She managed to worm out of the coat and hood and accepted a glass of warm, strong-smelling medicine from the woman.
Patch slammed his hand onto the jamb and whipped around the corner, saw her, and sagged, his anxious energy evaporating. “Gods and chains, Lanth,” he said hoarsely as he sank onto the bed next to her legs. She surged up and into his embrace; she needed his arms about her. He squeezed back, and she had to worm her face to the side to finish the medicine.
The woman cast him a scathing look. “You let her out of this room?”
“No,” he snapped. “She decided that all on her own.”
“You saw?” Rin asked eagerly.
“How could I not?” he seethed.
Lapis rubbed her forehead against his chest as Lyet and the woman stared suspiciously at the rat. He blinked at them, grinned with lop-sided casualness, and straightened, diving into his swaggery, story-performance mode.
“Y’see, there’s these flat, bat-lookin’ flyin’ crafts with a bulge up top in front—”
The woman gasped. “Swifts?” she asked, startled.
“Yep. Came up off the Shroud, ‘cause some others were shootin’ them birds,” he told her, his eyebrows rising and his eyes lidding. “Using tech. Took onna them Swifts out, ‘n it crashed right in front of us.”
Lyet’s mouth dropped open as he exuberantly related the rest of the flight; Lapis wanted to puke again, thinking about how easily all three of them could have died. It did not help when the reading circle rats piled into the room, questions ringing off the walls concerning the exciting race away from the tech battle. Who told them about it? She looked up at Patch, who stubbornly glared back, and plastered her palms over her eyes.
OK, yes, she never should have gone. She should have told Faelan that Patch could take care of Wrethe all by himself, no need for them to become involved. They should have stayed in Rin’s room and worried themselves to death in the warmth and safety found there.
Who guessed, someone using Meergevenis tech hid so close to Jiy?
Faelan, Ciaran and Mairin piled in behind Caitria, who regarded her with wide-eyed wonder. Her brother’s stressed despair coupled with Ciaran’s nervous concern made her feel lower than Patch had, and the minute trembling of their muscles as she hugged them proved their deep anxiety. Rin began another recitation, with Mairin adding in bits that made her mind whirl.
Had their flight looked that momentous?
She withdrew from the crowd, curled up on the bed, slammed a pillow over her ear, and shuddered. She did not need rat or rebel reminding her she should have remained in bed, snuggled into the sheets with quiet detachment and let someone else face the consequences of damaged Dentherion tech.
She did not expect gentle hands to touch her arm, remove the pillow, and let the resounding silence fill her head. She glanced at her partner, at the nearly empty room, and frowned. Where had they all gone?
“I sent them downstairs, the rambunctious lot,” the older woman grumbled as she scuffed her hands together. “I need you to sit up so I can see your back.”
Patch helped her struggle into position while Faelan sat in the chair and leaned over his knees, intent and worried. She bent over while the doctor raised her loose shirt and prodded at her back, making soft hmphing sounds she disliked. A hand finally patted her side, indicating she could lie back down.
“Despite your exuberant night, you’re doing well,” she said as she took a few vials from a large white bag and mixed the contents into a frosted glass. She obviously hailed from someplace other than the Grey Streets, for no one there would keep something that white so pristine. “You will ache for a while yet, and you might experience some hot flashes or chills, but the worst is past.”
“Thank you,” she said hoarsely. The woman raised an eyebrow.
“I admit, it’s odd to see Aethon care enough for someone else to ask me to help. But I’m happy to do so.” She chuckled. “Your reading circle is entertaining. It’s a new experience, to converse with them.”
Lapis did not respond. She had no idea what to even say; a sleek and noblewoman did not have much in common with a street rat, other than they both lived in a city called Jiy.
“I didn’t think you’d be around tonight, Aunt Thais,” Patch said.
“I hadn’t planned on it, but your father decided to stop by and sniff about and demand my services. I told him I had another patient and left him on my doorstep.” She pursed her lips at him. “Be watchful, Aethon. He’s becoming more suspicious about my activities, and he may find out you survived.”
“Let him,” her partner snarled. He possessed a less-than-pleasant opinion of the average human, and his family’s need to rid themselves of a disappointing son laid the foundation. Lapis doubted he would spare the man if he confronted his father again.
“What, exactly, will you do if he sends people after you?” A faint tinge of worry filled his aunt’s voice.
“Kill everyone involved.” He did not hesitate. Lapis and his aunt sighed together.
“Don’t let your hate harm that which you want to protect,” the woman told him. “Lanth is precious to you, and fighting your father will put her in danger.”
He studied her, annoyed, but did not contradict her words.
“I doubt he would believe Gall lied to him about the hanging,” Faelan said, his voice a deeper, calm rumble. “But we’ll see what kind of interference I can get Lord Adrastos to generate.”
“Adrastos,” she muttered with distaste as she handed Lapis the concoction. She drank; the liquid, cool and soothing, drove the remaining acidic burn in her throat away. Her limbs became lethargic within a moment, and Patch rescued the glass as it tumbled from her fingers.
