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Authors: Keith Baker
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recent spell enhanced her momentum when she jumped, allowing her to cover great distances. Even so, a standing jump to a narrow beam was a terrible risk.
She’d hoped for a safe landing on the strut, for the chance to fight the harpy on her own terms. Instead, Thorn slammed into the creature itself, sending them both tumbling off the beam. The harpy was at home in the air, but Thorn had the advantage of surprise. Before her enemy could shake her free, Thorn wrapped her legs around the harpy’s waist and dug fingers into the tough flesh of the creature’s throat. The harpy’s wings beat against the air as it struggled to push her away; fortunately, the claws on its fingers weren’t as long or as sharp as the talons on its feet.
Above them, Thorn saw gargoyles swarming over the third harpy under the bridge. If it had managed to continue its song, it hadn’t captured the minds of the gargoyles in time. Thorn had achieved her goal—the only question was whether she’d survive.
The two spun through the air, the harpy beating her wings wildly to counter for the unbalanced weight of her enemy. Her chest heaved from the exertion, and her fingernails dug furrows in Thorn’s stomach. But Thorn kept her hands locked around the creature’s throat, denying her air.
The creature was desperate, weaving erratically through the sky. Thorn squeezed harder and felt the harpy’s throat collapsing under the pressure. Then an unexpected impact forced the air from her lungs. The harpy had smashed into the wall of the gorge, ramming Thorn into the rough stone.Sharp rocks tore at her flesh, and her right leg slipped from the harpy’s waist. She just needed a second to catch her breath, to regain her grip …
She didn’t have time. The harpy was mad with pain and only wanted to take its foe with it into the darkness. Thorn saw a rocky outcropping rushing toward her, and then the world went white. When her vision cleared, she caught a glimpse of the harpy crumpled against the ledge above her, blood smeared around her crushed skull. Thorn’s head throbbed, and her left arm was in agony. Was it broken? Dislocated? Distracted by the pain, it took her an instant to realize the greater concern.
She was falling. And the bottom of the gorge was only seconds away.
C HAPTER E IGHT
The Korlaak Pass Droaam
Eyre 12, 998 YK
F or a mad moment Thorn tried to spread her wings, to reach out and catch the howling wind. The delusion passed quickly. Her cloak was flapping around her, and jagged rock lay directly below. She had only moments before impact … plenty of time for a woman trained in the City of Towers. The spires of Sharn stretched thousands of feet into the sky, and she’d learned to leap between the bridges, descending a dozen levels in a single jump. But even the best bridge runner missed a step, and sometimes you needed to reach the ground as quickly as possible. And that’s why you carried a feather token.
The wind tore at Thorn’s cloak, pulling the clasp against her throat. She couldn’t move her left arm. She still had strength in her right hand, enough to reach down and touch the buckle of her belt. The air grew thick around her, and Thorn’s stomach heaved in protest at the sudden change of velocity. She drifted gently, cushioned by the wind. She had just enough time to shift position, landing on her hand and knees as she struck the rocky floor of the gorge. She grimaced in pain, but it was the pain of falling against cobblestones, not the deadly plummet it could have been.
Thorn rolled onto her back and stared at the bridge and the sky above. She could see figures whirling about, but she couldn’t tell if they were gargoyles or harpies. Her heart pounded, and the pain she felt as she gasped for breath suggested a shattered rib. Gritting her teeth, she slapped her hand against her right thigh.
Nothing happened. Thorn didn’t have the energy to curse. She had a tattoo on her leg, a mark that had been applied when she
She’d hoped for a safe landing on the strut, for the chance to fight the harpy on her own terms. Instead, Thorn slammed into the creature itself, sending them both tumbling off the beam. The harpy was at home in the air, but Thorn had the advantage of surprise. Before her enemy could shake her free, Thorn wrapped her legs around the harpy’s waist and dug fingers into the tough flesh of the creature’s throat. The harpy’s wings beat against the air as it struggled to push her away; fortunately, the claws on its fingers weren’t as long or as sharp as the talons on its feet.
Above them, Thorn saw gargoyles swarming over the third harpy under the bridge. If it had managed to continue its song, it hadn’t captured the minds of the gargoyles in time. Thorn had achieved her goal—the only question was whether she’d survive.
The two spun through the air, the harpy beating her wings wildly to counter for the unbalanced weight of her enemy. Her chest heaved from the exertion, and her fingernails dug furrows in Thorn’s stomach. But Thorn kept her hands locked around the creature’s throat, denying her air.
The creature was desperate, weaving erratically through the sky. Thorn squeezed harder and felt the harpy’s throat collapsing under the pressure. Then an unexpected impact forced the air from her lungs. The harpy had smashed into the wall of the gorge, ramming Thorn into the rough stone.Sharp rocks tore at her flesh, and her right leg slipped from the harpy’s waist. She just needed a second to catch her breath, to regain her grip …
She didn’t have time. The harpy was mad with pain and only wanted to take its foe with it into the darkness. Thorn saw a rocky outcropping rushing toward her, and then the world went white. When her vision cleared, she caught a glimpse of the harpy crumpled against the ledge above her, blood smeared around her crushed skull. Thorn’s head throbbed, and her left arm was in agony. Was it broken? Dislocated? Distracted by the pain, it took her an instant to realize the greater concern.
She was falling. And the bottom of the gorge was only seconds away.
C HAPTER E IGHT
The Korlaak Pass Droaam
Eyre 12, 998 YK
F or a mad moment Thorn tried to spread her wings, to reach out and catch the howling wind. The delusion passed quickly. Her cloak was flapping around her, and jagged rock lay directly below. She had only moments before impact … plenty of time for a woman trained in the City of Towers. The spires of Sharn stretched thousands of feet into the sky, and she’d learned to leap between the bridges, descending a dozen levels in a single jump. But even the best bridge runner missed a step, and sometimes you needed to reach the ground as quickly as possible. And that’s why you carried a feather token.
The wind tore at Thorn’s cloak, pulling the clasp against her throat. She couldn’t move her left arm. She still had strength in her right hand, enough to reach down and touch the buckle of her belt. The air grew thick around her, and Thorn’s stomach heaved in protest at the sudden change of velocity. She drifted gently, cushioned by the wind. She had just enough time to shift position, landing on her hand and knees as she struck the rocky floor of the gorge. She grimaced in pain, but it was the pain of falling against cobblestones, not the deadly plummet it could have been.
Thorn rolled onto her back and stared at the bridge and the sky above. She could see figures whirling about, but she couldn’t tell if they were gargoyles or harpies. Her heart pounded, and the pain she felt as she gasped for breath suggested a shattered rib. Gritting her teeth, she slapped her hand against her right thigh.
Nothing happened. Thorn didn’t have the energy to curse. She had a tattoo on her leg, a mark that had been applied when she
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