Page 68 of All the Wandering Light

“Kamzin, run!”

Tem and I fell back as the ravens descended in a swarm. The captain gave a shout, stumbling as the creatures converged on him, pecking at his cloak and any exposed inch of flesh they could find. He appeared, for a terrible moment, to be shrouded in a plume of darkness, a darkness with talons and sharp beaks. Then Lusha shoved me ahead of her, and we stumbled into the forest.

Twenty-One

River

FOR THE FIRST time in his life, he was cold.

Light flickered through his eyelids. He coughed and inhaled a mouthful of snow. He shoved himself upright, though the world spun, desperate to be free of the snow that covered him like a smothering layer of blankets.

River blinked, scattering the snowflakes that clung to his lashes. For a moment, he didn’t remember where he was. He had been on an expedition, but where? Where was Norbu, and Mara? Had the barbarians captured him? His hands shook as he brushed snow from his arms and shoulders. The snow was pink.

He looked down at his hands, covered in blood, and remembered.

He surged to his feet. His side gave a vicious throb, but he ignored it.

Esha.

He would kill his brother. He thought it calmly, though he was filled with a black fury he hadn’t felt since Thorn had sent him word of Sky’s death. Esha had killed Sky, the only thing in River’s life that had mattered. River would kill him. It was as simple as that.

With shaking hands, he examined his wounds, peeling back the torn, frozen layers of his chuba. His shoulder was completely healed—ordinary knives were largely useless against witches. The two wounds in his side were ugly and dark. Yet they seemed to have stopped bleeding.

He should not be alive. Esha had used an obsidian dagger. Yet apart from the chill that nestled under his skin, and the pain—both of which were bearable—he felt almost normal. He considered the mystery for a moment, then discarded it. There were more important things.

The wind howled; the clouds churned. His chuba billowed around him, his hair tossing in his eyes. Since he had fallen unconscious, a ferocious storm had covered the mountain—he guessed it was morning, but it was impossible to be certain. He paid the elements no attention. He pressed his face into his hands and was surprised to find his cheeks wet.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, leaned against the mountain, as the wind moaned and the snow raged. He could only think of Sky—alone, vulnerable. River had left his eldest brother, who had always protected him, not realizing that he might need protection himself.

He didn’t move until what he felt crystallized into something hard, sharp, deadly. He wiped his face. Grimacing against the pain he anticipated, he shifted into a hawk.

Agony. He hadn’t lied to Kamzin—changing shape when injured was something to be endured as a last resort. He crouched for a moment, the wind tugging at his feathers, as waves of pain crashed and receded. Then he launched himself into the air.

The wind whipped him toward the mountainside, but he fought it, before letting a gust sweep him into a valley. He saw no sign of Esha or any of the others.

He folded his wings and plummeted toward the ground. Hail tore at his feathers, sharp as nails, and he was tossed around like a doll. He fell for some time—it had been high in the mountains, where he had confronted Kamzin—before opening his wings and settling on solid ground.

Esha was gone. He forced himself to swallow his fury and view the problem rationally. Even if he found Esha, what could he do? His elder brother might not have the Crown, but neither did River, whatever Esha thought. Esha had allies—he had every witch in the Nightwood. River couldn’t stop him alone.

And he had to stop him. He wouldn’t give up his search for the star—River knew him too well. Once his brother decided on a course of action, nothing would turn him from it. And what he planned to do with the star was so terrible that River could barely bring himself to consider it. He had to move fast.

There was only one person with the power to stop Esha. It wasn’t an appealing prospect, but River had few options.

River hadn’t been there to protect Sky, but he would be there now. He would stop Esha from turning Sky into something twisted and wrong. Sky would rest in peace, as he deserved. It was as much as River could give him.

The shadows stirred, and River was airborne again, leaving behind only faint marks in the snow, which the wind soon erased.

Twenty-Two

WE RAN—FOR HOW long, I couldn’t say. Until the trees grew too thick and tangled for speed, and the sound of the stream faded to nothing. Hills rose up on all sides, partly obscuring the sky.

“Lusha,” I gasped. “I can’t—my shoulder—”

She finally stopped, and I collapsed in a half sprawl on the forest floor. Each deep, gasping breath seemed to send another arrow into my shoulder. I was certain I would faint again. Lusha collapsed beside me, lowering her head between her knees. The bead of sweat trickling down her cheek caught the moonlight as she turned her head.

“Well, if the captain wasn’t already convinced we were the enemy, he is now,” I said, once I was able to speak.

“They’ll follow us,” Lusha said. Biter settled on the leafy ground beside her and let out a low croak. “We have to keep moving.”