The soldier narrowed his eyes and let go of Ellie’s wing. She pulled it in quickly, tucking it behind her back. Gussie had begun to rouse behind her, moaning and looking around in confusion.
“Well, now,” said the soldier, “I dunno if you’re lying or not, but I reckon it’d be a good idea to keep you close till we find out. So, c’mon, boy. Wing out.” He snipped the scissors in the air, grinning nastily at Nox, who glared back and kept his wings pinned securely to his back. He was making a show of not being afraid, but Ellie saw his face pale.
“Aw, Bratton,” said the other soldier. The Harrier man still stood on the far side of the camp, scratching his rump. “Do you have to be such a beast about it all? They’re just kids.”
“Shut up, Tholomew!” snarled Bratton. “If we find that stone, it’s a promotion for the both of us.”
“All promotions mean is more work,” complained Tholomew.
“Easy for you to say! You usually guard the war room. Do you know what door I have to guard? The latrine, that’s what! Do you have any idea, Tholomew, what kinds of things I have to smell, every day, hours on end, all so’s … what? Nobody steals the dung bucket? Do you know the bounteous variety of odors a body can emit? Because I do.” Bratton tapped his skull. “I know ’em all, got ’em all catalogued up in my noggin whether I like it or not. I’m sick of it! I deserve a promotion, and that’s the truth!”
“Oh, fine, then. But I want no part of it. I could have been an artist, you know,” moaned Tholomew. “But no, we of the Bonce family are soldiers, said my mum, not scummy artists. So here I am, in the middle of nowhere, having to watch you torture kids for fun.”
“We’ve a job to do, you scabby toad!” Bratton jabbed his scissors in the air. “Bring back the thieves and the skystone, that’s what the general said. Want me to tell him you were too busy moaning to do your job? Get over here and hold this Crow’s wing for me.”
Tholomew relented, plodding over with a look of distaste. Ellie and Nox shared a panicked glance.
“Right, then,” Tholomew sighed. “Let’s just finish this so we can all go home and—”
Crack!
The soldiers froze as the sound echoed through the wood. It sounded like someone had stepped on a stick, but a hundred times louder. No person could take a step that big.
“Go look,” Bratton ordered Tholomew.
Drawing his sword, Tholomew crept toward the noise. The forest had gone very still, as if it had drawn in its breath and held it. Nothing moved. No leaves stirred.
Then the trees in front of the soldier exploded.
A roar ripped through the forest, flattening the air. Chips and chunks of wood shot in all directions. Nox ducked just in time to avoid being impaled by a jagged limb that hurtled at him like an arrow. Two trees had been snapped in half by a massive, fifteen-foot thing charging straight at Tholomew. It looked like a mossy hill, only with four trunk-like legs and a whole lot of yellow fangs.
Nox stared, his mouth dry.
“What is that thing?” Ellie cried out.
“Mossbear!” said Gussie. “This is very, very bad!”
The thing was shaped like a bear, but it was covered in layers of moss, grass, and vines. Nox had heard of them, late at night in the taverns of Thelantis, when hunters came in from the wilderness to swap stories. He’d always thought tales of mossbears were exaggerated.
He now knew he was wrong. If anything, those hunters had undersold the size and ferocity of the creatures. Mossbears were rare, found only in the deepest recesses of Bluebriar Forest. Six times the size of normal bears, they slept for weeks on end, never moving, and so the forest just grew over them as if they were mossy hillocks, hence their name.
Once woken, though, they were the most dangerous animals on four legs.
Tholomew screamed and threw himself aside just in time to avoid being trampled. Bratton cursed and drew his blade.
Nox twisted like a fox in a trap, trying to get free of the ropes around his wrists and ankles. The three of them were helpless, bound, and hobbled on the ground, with a bear the size of a house barreling toward them. But first, it seemed intent on crushing the fallen soldier.
“Tholomew!” Bratton called out. “Fly, you idiot—you’ve got wings, remember?”
Tholomew blinked, as if he had forgotten just that, then hastily scrambled to his feet and spread his wings, launching into the air a moment before the bear’s massive paws slammed into the ground where he’d been cowering. Bratton also took flight, and the bear rose up on his hind legs and began swatting at the airborne soldiers. The men couldn’t get close enough with their swords to strike.
Nox managed to pull his legs through his arms, putting his hands in front so he could chew the ropes with his teeth, but there was no time.
Because at that moment, the bear’s head turned toward the helpless kids on the ground. Its nose quivered as it sniffed the air, and a huge glob of snot dribbled from one large nostril.
“Oh skies,” gasped Ellie. “It sees us.”
Nox twisted and kicked, trying to crawl away. But then he heard a rustle behind him, and turned with dread, expecting to see another mossbear.
Instead, he saw something way weirder—a flood of squirrels poured from the trees, scampering toward them.
Gussie saw them too. “What the … ?”
Nox gasped as the squirrels swarmed around and over him, tiny paws gripping his clothing and hair. He heard Ellie yelp as she too was overtaken by the teeming, furry mass.
Then, suddenly, Nox’s hands broke apart, the ropes falling away.
The squirrels had chewed right through them.
He laughed as the little animals set to work on his bound ankles, their sharp teeth separating the tough rope fibers in seconds. He now knew exactly who was orchestrating this strange escape plan.
“It’s all right!” he said to Ellie and Gussie, who were still struggling to bat the squirrels away. “Let them help.”
As if angered by his shout, the bear let out another deafening roar.
Nox sprang up, then helped Gussie to her feet. Ellie stood shakily, brushing away the remnants of the chewed rope. As quickly as they’d come, the squirrels vanished, skittering back into the trees.
They had to get away fast, but first, Nox needed to retrieve the gem—or skystone. Thanks to the soldiers, he now knew what it was called.
He was glad he’d thought to hide it when they made camp. Loot’s always safer stowed than towed, the Talon had taught him.
Nox dove beneath the big boulder and began digging in the soil.
“What are you doing?” Ellie called.
“Get your stuff and let’s go!” he replied.
Ellie grabbed Gussie’s bag and tossed it to her, then reached for her own knapsack. She launched into the air—just as the bear broke into a charge.
“Nox!” Ellie screamed.
The bear was coming for him at the speed of a tornado. Its thundering steps shook the ground, making the trees shiver and a torrent of leaves shimmer down.
“Got it!” Nox said, his hand finally closing on the muddy gemstone. Then he turned and saw nothing but a wall of moss-covered fur and a wide, gaping jaw lined with fangs. The breath from its throat smacked into him like a wet, rotten wind as it roared.
Nox shut his eyes and waited for it to bite off his head. There wasn’t even time to scream.
Instead, abruptly, the bear fell silent.
He peeled one eye open, his entire body clenched like a fist. The mossbear still loomed over Nox, but now it sat back on its rear end, eyes widening, ears flicking forward. It let out a short, friendly chuff.
“Twig,” he sighed. “Cutting it close, don’t you think?”
The boy had appeared from nowhere, and now stood next to the bear, grinning.
“Sorry,” he said. “I had to say bye to the squirrels first. By the way, say hello to Mossbutt.” He reached out and scratched the bear’s chin.
Nox, his insides still wobbling,
stared at the snotty, salivating mountain of fangs and fur in front of him. “What did I tell you about adopting things that could tear you in half?”
“How about things that just saved your skin?” returned Twig. “Anyway, Mossbutt would never hurt me. We’ve bonded.” To prove it, he scratched the bear behind his ear, and the great beast practically purred.
“TWIG! NOX!” Gussie cried. “Shut up and fly! We’ve got other problems!”
She was right. The bear might have transformed into a tail-wagging puppy, but the soldiers had realized their prisoners were now free.
“Don’t let them get away!” screamed Bratton. “Cut them down if you have to!”
Nox grabbed Twig and jumped into the air, spreading his wings.
“Bye, Mossbutt!” Twig called sadly, waving at the bear.
“Fly, you lunatic!” Nox said, pushing the kid along.
They winged through the trees with the soldiers in pursuit. There was no time for careful zigzagging; Nox crashed his way through limbs and leaves.
It was Ellie who took the lead, finding their path through the trees, calling to watch out for low branches. The girl could fly, and even Nox had to admire it. She turned on a hair, pivoting in midair, then slipped sideways and over and under branches so quickly it made his head spin.
But despite her brilliant flying, Bratton and Tholomew gained on them, their wings somehow navigating the trees with more precision than Nox had thought their larger bodies could possibly have.
Then, all at once, they burst out of the trees. The ground dropped away into a deep forest canyon, a roaring river churning through it. Nox’s head reeled at the sudden change in altitude, but Ellie did not hesitate. She pinned her wings to her back and dove.
He gasped, expecting to see her smash into the river. With her wings clamped to her spine, she was diving headfirst toward the rocky river.
“Ellie!” he called. “Stop!”
Just before she reached the water, she flared her wings and pulled up, skimming over the surface. White water plunged over rocks and crashed against the canyon walls, the spray washing over the Sparrow girl. Beads of water slid over her oiled wings and fell away.
“C’mon!” she shouted.
“She’s nuts!” Gussie said.
“She’s also right,” Nox replied. “The canyon is our best chance to shake those thugs.”
Nox sucked in a breath, then dove, with Gussie and Twig close behind. They pulled up just short of the river, close enough that they could have stretched out a hand and dragged a finger through the water.
“It worked!” Ellie shouted, rolling to point above them.
Sure enough, Nox spotted the two silhouettes of the soldiers, high above the canyon. They’d lost sight of the kids. The river was camouflaging their escape.
When the canyon walls closed in, forming a passage no wider than a doorway, they had to slip though single file, tilting perpendicular to the ground.
Finally, they came to a place where the river spilled onto a wide, shallow bed of black pebbles. Here the water burbled calmly, and sleek spotted fish idled in the deeper pools along its edges. It was a bright, pleasant spot. Nox hoped they could pause to catch their breaths.
But, to his horror, the river below began to darken beneath a spreading shadow. The air cooled, causing Nox’s skin to prickle with goose bumps. Even before he rolled to look at the sky, he knew what he would see.
A massive thunderhead slunk across the sun, swallowing it whole. Its flat belly seemed to nearly touch the treetops, while its swollen trunk towered into the atmosphere, bulbous and bloated. Lightning shivered in its depths, sending out a tidal wave of thunder.
It was the sort of cloud that was practically guaranteed to be teeming with gargols.
“Hide!” yelled Gussie.
Nox looked around frantically, his heart clashing against his rib cage, the rumble of thunder vibrating in his chest.
“There!” he shouted, and he angled desperately for a narrow crevice in the canyon wall. Little more than a slit in the stone, it was just tall enough for them to crawl in on their bellies, wings pressed flat. Nox waited till the others were all inside before he followed, barely pulling himself into the crevice before the sky tore open and rain lashed the ground.
The river, which had been babbling over the pebbles, now thrashed, turning to white froth. Thunder rebounded off the canyon walls. In minutes, the river began to rise, boiling rapids forming just below the four kids.
Then a pair of boots landed on the smooth rock bank before them, inches away.
“They’re here somewhere!” It was unmistakably the voice of Bratton, the crueler of the two soldiers. Nox scrunched backward, his wings tightening. He could still hear the snip of Bratton’s scissors.
“We need to find cover!” came Tholomew’s reply. “That cloud—”
“Finish the job and quit whining!” snarled Bratton. “I’ll tear the wings off those brats when I get my hands on them!”
Nox exchanged a look with Ellie. He grinned, as if this were all some kind of game and he was winning. When he’d given Nox charge of his own crew, the Talon had taught him that once the leader panicked, everyone panicked. It was his job to help them stay coolheaded, or they were done for.
But Bratton was only steps away. All he’d have to do to find them was …
Exactly what he did next.
Turn around.
The soldier dropped to one knee and bent his head down—locking eyes with Nox.
“HA!” he roared. “Got you! Be afraid, scum, because Uncle Bratton’s gonna have some fun with—”
“SCREEEEEEEEEE … !”
Nox’s heart shriveled as the strange cry rang out of the storm, interrupting the soldier. Nails dragging over slate, trees splintering in two, the keening of a lost, frightened child—the scream was all these things and much, much worse.
The sound was darkness.
The sound was despair.
It was a sound he’d heard before, distantly, outside the walls of Thelantis, but never this close. Never so loud it was like a physical force, a rod of sound driving through his skull.
It was the scream of a gargol.
The gargol’s screech impaled Ellie like a spear, sliding deep into her mind until it struck the memory of her parents.
Falling from the sky.
Broken before they hit the ground.
That scream cracked her open, pain splintering outward as sharp and fresh as if no time at all had passed, as if she were a fledgling again, screaming and helpless and terrified.
Ellie wasn’t sure if she grabbed Nox’s hand or if he grabbed hers, but suddenly she was aware of her fingers squeezing his.
Bratton looked shaken by the sound, but he didn’t flee. Instead, he dove toward them, drawing a dagger. Ellie reached for her own knife, but before she could pull it from her belt, Bratton grabbed Nox by his hair and dragged him into the open.
“Give me the skystone!” Bratton hissed. “I know you have it. Hand it over now, boy, or I’ll cut your wings off one by one!”
Unbelievably, Nox smiled. “All right, all right, you win.”
He opened his hand—and there on his palm sat a smooth black pebble, just like the ones scattered in the river below.
“You think you’re funny?” Bratton snarled. Then he froze, his eyes settling on the chain around Nox’s neck.
“Ha!” He tugged it, yanking the skystone out of Nox’s shirt, but Nox twisted, knocking the man’s dagger away and seizing the chain himself.
They tugged back and forth, while Ellie watched the sky anxiously.
“There’s a gargol up there somewhere!” she cried. “Stop it, Nox, stop it! Just let it go!”
There wasn’t a jewel in the Clandoms worth dying for. But Nox and Bratton struggled on, the chain of the necklace stretched taut between them and the skystone dangling at its center.
“Let … go!” Bratton roared, and he heaved on the chain.
The iron band t
hat held the skystone broke. Nox’s hand lashed out to catch the gem—but it never fell.
Instead, impossibly, it began to float.
From under the protection of the rock, Ellie craned her neck to watch as the bright blue gem lifted into the air as lightly as a soap bubble. Its facets flashed even in the gray light of the storm, as if lit from within.
“What the …” Bratton blinked, stunned just long enough that Nox had time to snatch the stone out of the air.
The soldier’s face twisted with anger. He grabbed at the thief, but at that moment, Ellie sprang out and slashed her dagger, splitting his trousers and cutting his shin. Bratton howled and reeled backward.
Ellie grabbed Nox. “Back under the rock! Now!”
Above them, another gargol screech rent the air. This time, it was louder.
Closer.
“Hurry, Nox!” Ellie yelled.
The Crow boy slid under the rock as Bratton leaped up and charged. Ellie gasped and scrambled into the crevice. Nox and Gussie grabbed her arms to pull her in.
“Sparrow scum!” the soldier roared. “I’ll gut you—”
His shout cut off as Bratton vanished.
One moment his legs were there, the next they were gone, snatched up into the sky—right out of his boots, which remained planted on the rock. The soldier screamed, his terrified voice raw with pain until, abruptly, it ended. Rain drummed steadily in the silence that followed.
Ellie couldn’t breathe. She stared at the spot where he’d been, her body stiff with terror.
A second later, Bratton hit the river with a large splash. He sank, then resurfaced downstream, floating facedown, a dark stream of blood in his wake.
The river carried him away, leaving only his boots behind.
“Holy skies,” Nox breathed.
Ellie held tight to his hand, her very heart standing still.
Then came a grinding, crunching sound. She looked up … to see three stone claws curling around the lip of rock above them, digging into the stone until small chunks of it broke away and rained down.
Ellie heard the gargol, inches away, but could see only those three deadly claws. She heard the groan and grind of its stone body, the heavy, labored breaths. It inhaled as if its lungs were filled with rocks—great, dry, wheezing gasps.
Sparrow Rising Page 9
