The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [111]
Only a heartbeat’s hesitation and she flung the stone away, into the cauldron. She didn’t see it land, but flames belched high and bright. And from the landing below came a fierce raptor’s cry.
She turned, scrambled down the stone till she reached the steps. And stopped as Asheris rose in front of her on four burning wings. His eagle’s head turned, watched her from one blazing eye. Even Assari friezes couldn’t capture the beauty of the jinn.
He alit on the step below her and the light died, leaving only the man. His clothes were torn and filthy, skin lusterless beneath blood and sweat, but his throat had healed.
“Lady, it is done.” He offered her a hand and she took it, but when their fingers touched he flinched away. He stared at her right hand, her beringed hand, and for an instant she wondered if he would send her into the volcano as well, to free the bound ghosts.
Instead he turned her hand over, frowning at the blood, at the fingers hooked with pain. Then he caught her left, baring the blackened, blistered mark his hand had burned into her wrist.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could heal you—”
She smiled crookedly. “But that’s not what either of us is made for, is it? Perhaps you could help me off this mountain instead.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
The ground shook again when they reached the landing and they stumbled.
“This is bad, isn’t it?” Isyllt asked.
Before he could answer, footsteps slapped against the path and Zhirin stumbled up the stairs. Witchlights flickered around her and she raised a hand in warding when she saw Asheris.
“It’s all right,” Isyllt said. “We’re not killing each other anymore. What happened?”
The girl gaped an instant longer, then shook her head. Blood ran from a cut on her cheek, spotting her shirt collar. “Imran is dead. He burned, and I don’t know how—”
Asheris smiled, cold and cruel. “Backlash. A pity I wasn’t there to watch.”
“But,” Zhirin went on, “Xinai got away. And I think they’ve broken too many wards.”
His bloody humor fell away. “Yes. The mountain is waking.” He tilted his head, listening. “It’s been waiting such a long time.”
“Can you stop it? Like you did at the warehouse?”
He shook his head. “This fire is greater than I could ever quench or contain. All we can do is get away.”
“But the Kurun Tam, the villages, the forest—”
“Are all going to burn. I’m sorry. Imran would have done better to send me after the Dai Tranh while there was still hope of stopping this.”
The mountain rumbled, a roar building beneath their feet.
“We’re not going to make it down, are we?” Isyllt said. She didn’t feel like running anyway. It was hard enough staying conscious.
“We wouldn’t, no.” Asheris slipped an arm around her waist. “But we’re not going down.” He held out his other hand to Zhirin. “Miss Laii?”
Zhirin stared. “What—”
“Come on,” Isyllt said as she began to understand. She grabbed his waist, abused fingers clutching a handful of silk. “Zhirin, please, let’s go.”
The girl took his hand, let him pull her close.
“Hold on,” he said. And uncased his wings.
Zhirin shrieked, short and sharp, as they rose. Isyllt slipped, her hand nearly useless, but his grip tightened.
“I won’t let you fall.”
His wings blazed against the night. Isyllt felt their warmth, but it didn’t burn her. The mountain fell away in a dizzying spiral, a burning eye in the black stretch of forest; Symir glittered in the distance. They moved into the low clouds and her skin tingled as the damp touched her burns. For a moment there was nothing but wind and mist, the taste of rain and the delta spreading out beneath them. Zhirin made a soft sound of wonder and delight.
Then the mountain exploded.
Xinai fled before the mage stopped screaming, leaving the Laii girl to stare as he burned and writhed. She avoided stairs and sorcerers altogether, scrambling across the crags instead. The rough pitted stones scoured