Page 194 of The Stolen Throne
I don’t even get his name out before a blinding flare of light passes through me, and this time I can see what Pella and Omma meant by a bubble of light in the sky. It’s glorious to watch expanding outward and upward like a dome. The light isn’t white but opalescent, all colors of the rainbow swirling and alive within it.
Above the palace, the cliffs that surround the dominion, with their waterfalls misting and pouring, tower into the night sky, keeping the oceans on the other side out. The colorful display dissolves the second it reaches the border, like water hitting fire and turning to steam. Then a beat of hush, as though the entire dominion takes a readying breath.
“What did that do?” I whisper.
Beside me, Cain, still watching the skies, shakes his head.
A loud thunk has us both turning, heads cocked to listen. “What was—”
He waves me off as another sound comes from a different direction. This time a yelp or maybe a scream. A few more pierce the night. Definitely screams. As if those few set off a cascade, a thousand screams and shouts rise up, coming from…everywhere.
Then, nearby, a loud thump and rattle, as if something hard was thrown against a door or a wall.
Cain shoves me up the rope. “Climb.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m already moving. Feet on the wall, hand over hand, I scramble.
With a crack of splintering wood, a door not more than three buildings down from us slams open, and a tiny old woman—one with a salt-and-pepper braid over her shoulder—who should have been too small to push a child on a swing, let alone a whole door, bursts out. There’s something unnatural in the way she moves. She reminds me of an insect or a bird, maybe, the way she angles her head in sharp, jerking motions. Then she takes off at a sprint, directly for us, mouth wide open, showing her teeth like a predator might.
Another door flings open with a bang, then another and another, the sound of cracking wood echoing all around us.
“Go, go, go!” Cain shouts as he wedges his shoulder under my thighs and propels me upward.
The rope gives a strange jerk in my grasp, and then I hang on for dear life as Cain and I are swung away from the wall only to knock back into it, sliding down a foot or two with the impact.
Cain curses as he drops out from under me.
My feet frantically scrambling for purchase, I look down…and lose my breath.
At least a dozen people are tugging the rope, their movements similar to the old woman’s. Worse, a man who stands seven feet if he’s an inch, towering over the others, has Cain by his booted foot. The man yanks hard, and, with a shout, Cain tumbles down into the mob. The last thing I see is his shocked face as he falls.
“Cain!” I desperately search for him on the ground, but the growing throng of bodies blocks my view. Except…they don’t seem to notice Cain. No, every face remains tilted up, sights trained on me. Which is when I get a closer look at their faces. Their eyes are glassy, almost opaque, reminding me of Vida after she died. Several people are covered in blood, one all around his mouth.
Merciful heavens.
The big man jumps for me. Almost makes it, too, so I clamber higher. Not too much, though. I’m not leaving without Cain.
The rope above me starts to jiggle. I whip my head up. Tziah scales down the rope—shooting down it—controlled yet fast and nimble. She gets to me before I can blink, then jumps, landing on the giant who pulled Cain down.
With animallike snarls, all the feral people turn on her.
83
No Ally
of Mine
“Tziah!”
A noise I’ve only heard once before creeps up toward me through the shouts and screams. A soft hissing at first, but I know what’s coming. Deliberately, I wrap my leg in the rope to hold my weight and hook one elbow around it so that I can try to cover my ears with my hands. A second later, the hissing grows louder, building pressure inside my head. I grit my teeth against the sensation.
Tziah’s power. Sound as a weapon. It’s paralyzing. Debilitating.
One by one, starting with those nearest where she fell, the glassy-eyed people put their hands over their own ears, ducking and cowering, peeling away until I can finally see Cain balled up on the ground, covering his head with his arms. He tries to sit up, but not all of those things seem to be affected by Tziah. With wild eyes and those jerking movements, they descend on her.
She opens her mouth wider, and the sound becomes unbearable even with my ears covered. Wetness leaks out of my nose, and I swipe my elbow under it only to come away with a smear of blood. Below me, I can see blood leaking from eyes and ears and noses, and everyone around her starts to scream in a different way, but she doesn’t stop. Not until the last one is crouched and cowering in agony.
Then she shuts her mouth and drags an equally bleeding and dazed Cain off the ground with more strength than I would have given her credit for, given how tiny she is. He’s stumbling, but she manages to get him to the rope, and they both climb. Which shakes me out of my stupor. I unwrap myself and keep going.
