“Don’t be so quick to discount what they can or can’t do without us. Something’s already gone wrong, only it went wrong with us. And we survived, didn’t we? Give them a little credit.”
They stared at each other in silence for a moment, eyes fierce and intense. Rue backed down first. “They’re not Rovers,” she pointed out quietly.
Her brother smiled in spite of himself. “Granted. But they have their good points anyway and a fair chance of holding their own until we can get to them. Which I fully intend to do, Little Red, if you’ll just have some faith in me.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re on our way to the coast to make repairs and heal wounds. If we’re to outsmart and outsail the Ilse Witch and her Mwellrets and perhaps do battle with Black Moclips, we have to be at our best. Maybe it won’t come to that, if we’re lucky, but we can’t rely on luck to see us through this mess. We should be able to map our way in and out again, just as the Druid wanted. We should be able to make contact with the Wing Riders, as well. And while the ship’s being overhauled and you’re healing, I’ll be flying back in with Hunter Predd to have a look at what’s become of our friends and to help them if I can.”
Rue Meridian smiled. “That’s more like the Big Red I know. No sitting around and waiting. But we’ll see about who’s coming back and who’s staying behind to heal.”
He shook his head at her. “I sometimes think you don’t have the sense of a gnat. Indestructible, are you? Half-dead one minute and whole the next? Off to the rescue of those unfortunates who need you so badly? Shades! It’s a wonder you’ve lived this long. Well, we’ll talk about it.”
He rose. “Enough of words for now, though. I’m off to bed and a few more hours of rest before daylight and work. Maybe you should try getting a few hours’ sleep yourself. Put the past behind you and the future ahead where they belong and spend your time in the present with the rest of us.” He waved dismissively as he turned away. “Sleep well, Little Red.”
He went out without looking back, closing the door softly behind him. She stared after him for a long time, thinking that for all his faults, there wasn’t anyone better than her brother. Whatever lay ahead, she would rather face it with him at her side than anyone else. Redden Alt Mer had the luck, they said. They were right, but he had something more than that. He had the heart. He would always find a way because he couldn’t conceive of it being any other way. It was the Rover in him. It defined who he was.
She spent another few moments thinking about those trapped inland, about Walker and the rest, still worried how they would fare without the Rovers to turn to. Big Red could say what he wanted, but she didn’t like the idea of abandoning them even for the time it would take to reach the coast and find the Wing Riders.
They were a tough and experienced group except for Bek and the seer and one or two others who were more talented than experienced, but even the Elven Hunters were too much at risk when afoot and cut off from the airship. Especially with the Ilse Witch and her Mwellrets hunting them.
She thought of Hawk then, one final time. Someone will pay for what happened to you, she promised him silently. One day soon, that account will be settled.
She was crying again, almost before she realized it.
“Good-bye, Hawk,” she whispered into the darkness.
Then she was asleep.
SIX
When Panax gripped his shoulder in warning, Quentin Leah dropped into a crouch and froze in place, eyes searching the gloom ahead. He felt the Dwarf’s harsh breathing in his ear.
“Over there.” The words were a soft hiss in the silence. “By the edge of that building, in the rubble.”
Quentin’s hand tightened on the Sword of Leah, then just as quickly loosened. No, don’t summon the magic! You’ll only draw their attention if you do! His heart began to race. Around him, everything went still, not a sound, not a movement, as if the city and its deadly inhabitants were waiting with him. Dirt, sweat, and blood streaked his face and clothing, and his body ached with fatigue. He was cut and bruised almost everywhere, and the slashes on his left side cut all the way through to his ribs. Off to one side, crouched in a screen of brush that had grown up through broken slabs of stone, Kian and Wye watched with him, waiting for his signal. He was their leader now. He was their last, best hope. Without him, they would all be dead. Dead, like so many of the others.