Light gleams from the cave mouth ahead of us.
We race for it. Our lorst crystals flash, casting our shadows like wild phantoms on the narrow walls. Most of the others are ahead of me, stumbling and staggering on the uneven ground. I am slow, burdened by Yok’s weight on my shoulder.
“Leave me!” he cries when he can find breath. “I’m too heavy! Leave me behind!”
I don’t bother to answer. There’s no chance in the nine hells I’m leaving this boy to that swarm. Instead, I put my head down, angle my lorst to illuminate my feet, and simply run, run, run.
We hurtle up the path. I lift my gaze just in time to see the first of the men reach the cave entrance. There’s nothing there but that tiny ledge, nowhere for him to go. He stops, arms pinwheeling. The man behind him can’t slow down fast enough and hits him in the back. Only by sheer luck do they both manage to grab hold of stone and keep themselves from plummeting.
“Climb!” I bellow. My voice is nearly drowned in the rising cacophony of woggha shrieks and squeals. They each come to the same conclusion simultaneously. Swinging out onto the wall they begin to scale it as fast as they can. It’s hopeless, of course. No trolde could ever outclimb a woggha. But it may give the riders in the holding pattern outside a chance to see us and come to our aid.
Lur reaches the cave opening ahead of me. She spins, leaps, catches the wall, and hauls herself up swift as a spider. I’m only a few paces behind now, still holding tight to Yok. Jork lumbers behind us. Suddenly, I hear him scream.
I turn. I shouldn’t. I’m so close to the opening, but I turn anyway, and look back to see Jork grappling with a cave devil. Green foam falls on his skin as its slavering jaws clamp open and shut mere inches from his face. He grips it by the throat, holds it off, even as its claws tear into his armor. Ice freezes my spine. Every instinct tells me to go back, to help him. But Yok . . . if I leave the boy . . .
Jork twists his head around. A terrible gash gushes blue across his forehead and into one eye. “Go!” he roars. “Get out of here!”
I pivot on heel and race on. The shrieks of the woggha are deafening as they bottleneck in the narrow passage behind Jork and the fiend he battles. They’ll overwhelm him soon. Rip him to pieces like they did poor Hud and Toz.
But I will get this boy out of here safely. If it’s the last thing I do.
We reach the opening. Up above, I see our fellow riders bringing our morleth down to us. Even as I watch, Lur springs from the wall, catches her beast’s saddle, and pulls herself onto it. The others haven’t spied me yet, and I cannot see Knar. Did the fool beast take the opportunity to disappear back into his own dimension? Just my luck!
“Hold on, Yok,” I say and swing the boy back around onto my shoulders as I had when I carried him from the pit. The next moment, we’re climbing. I use the spikes in my bracers to assist me in my ascent, and Yok clings to me with all the strength he has left. I feel him weakening. I don’t know that he can make it.
“My King!”
It’s Lur. She’s angled her beast down close to us. She extends a hand to Yok. “Catch it, boy!”
I hold still long enough for the lad to adjust his grip on me and reach out with one hand. His fingers just brush against Lur’s.
A cave devil launches itself out from the cavern mouth. It leaps straight for her morleth, savage and snarling and utterly mad. Her beast rears back in the air, and Lur curses as she nearly loses her seat. The woggha falls, shrieking. Others are coming, streaming out from the cave mouth. Many of them fall too, while the rest flow up the side of the cliff as easily as though running on level ground. There’s no way I can outpace them.
“They’re coming!” Yok cries.
“I’d noticed,” I growl through my teeth. Up above, one of the other men on the wall makes a leap for his morleth as it swoops by. He misses, falls, and the beast plunges after him. I can only hope it will catch him but cannot turn to see. I climb, climb, as fast as I can. Woggha stream up the cliff on either side of me. One of them catches at my leg, claws hooking into the armor. It tugs, and I nearly lose my grip.
Abruptly, it lets go, utters a hideous scream, and falls. I turn to see Lur flash by on her morleth, sword stained with devil’s blood. The other riders are doing their best to keep the beasts off me. But where is Knar?
Another woggha draws level with us on my right. It turns its hideous, eyeless head, as though suddenly aware of us. Its mouth opens. Its long tongue lashes hungrily as it alters course straight for us. I let go of the wall with one hand and punch it straight in the flat part of its bone-plated skull. The blow seems to shock it, but only for a moment. It roars and lunges again, claws lashing at my face.
I feel Yok’s arms tense. His breath catches in my ear.
I know what he’s about to do. Before I can react. Before I can move to stop him. I know.
The boy springs from my back, catches hold of the woggha around its neck. There he dangles, broken leg useless, hands struggling for purchase. He adjusts his hold, squeezing hard. His one good leg kicks wildly against the wall.
“No!” I lift one hand, try to swing myself toward them. My other hand slips. I’m forced to grab the wall. “No, Yok! Stop!”
Yok adjusts his grip, locking his arms around the beast’s throat. It shakes its head, its whole body writhing. Yok doesn’t let go. With his one good leg, he presses into the wall. I see him grit his teeth. His eyes flash to meet mine for just a moment.
“Yok!” His name rips from my chest in a furious roar. I reach out, my hand grasping, desperate. Too late, too late.
He pushes off from the wall. Wrenches the devil’s claws free of the stone.
They fall. Tumble. Still grappling together. Plummeting through shadows and down to the fiery river far below.
