Chapter Forty-Three
FORTY-THREE
ASPETH
“Did you hear that?”
I rouse from sleep, my body aching something fierce. I’m hungry, too, but we’re trying to save our rations because we don’t know how long we’ll be here. The red light from the first ring continues to glow atop my staff, and the second is secured around my neck via a lace broken off from one of my boots.
Lark is sitting upright, her attention focused on the stone walls. Everyone else is asleep, with Mereden and Gwenna lying against the slab and Kipp curled up in Gwenna’s lap, clutching the last piece of his house in his arms.
“Hear what?” I murmur, keeping my voice down so I don’t wake the others.
She looks over at me. “I thought I heard something.”
“Ratlings?”
She considers for a moment, then shakes her head. “No. It sounded different. Like a shout of some kind, but it was far away.”
I sit up, too, and cock my head, listening. I don’t hear anything at all, not even the ratlings. They stopped flinging themselves against the door some time ago, and we went to sleep with one person on guard. I’d taken the first shift, and passed it over to Lark when I got too sleepy. It feels as if I’ve barely closed my eyes, and I rub them again. “Maybe it’s the stone settling.”
Lark doesn’t look convinced. “Maybe.”
I settle back down on the hard stone floor, barely cushioned by my cloak, when there’s a muffled bellow, followed by an angry thump.
And then another.
We both jerk upright.
“You think someone’s come to rescue us?” she whispers, eyes wide.
“ASPETH!”
Hawk’s roar is muffled by the thick stone walls, but I know his voice. He sounds desperate and unhinged.
I’ve never been so happy to hear anyone. “It’s Hawk!” I jump to my feet, shaking Gwenna, Kipp, and Mereden awake as Lark grabs her weapons. “They’ve come for us!”
“If it’s Hawk, he might be with Magpie,” Lark warns, pulling her sword from its sheath. “They might be here to arrest us.”
“Isn’t that better than dying down here?” Gwenna asks.
There’s another furious bellow and someone says something on the other side of the door. Hawk roars with what sounds like Taurian rage.
My heart skips in my throat with delight. I want to weep tears of happiness, because we’re not going to be trapped in this tomb for weeks, waiting to die. He’s come for me. Arrest or not, we can figure things out once we’re on the surface and not hemmed in by ratlings.
Oh gods, the ratlings! They’ll swarm him.
I step over Mereden and Gwenna, perching on the edge of the slab, and then bang my fist on the door. “There are ratlings!” I call out. “Be careful!”
My response? Another incoherent roar.
“Stand back!” someone says, voice so distant I barely hear it. “He’s coming through! We can’t stop him!”
I look over at the others and then the door lurches, another mighty roar shaking the interior. I could swear that dust filters down from above, the sounds Hawk is making are so loud. “Should we move the slab?” I ask, fretting. “I don’t want it to break—”
Something big and heavy slams against the double doors, and the slab jerks and then topples onto the floor, breaking cleanly in half. I let out a sound of dismay, only for Hawk to bellow in fury again, and the doors groaning once more with the force of his weight being flung against them. He throws himself against them again and I wince, because that has to hurt.
“Hawk?” I call out.
He snarls something, but I can’t make it out. It sounded a bit like “Mine” but that doesn’t make sense. I pick up my staff and my bag, and when he flings himself against the doors again, the leather belt stretches and breaks and Mereden’s staff snaps like a twig. The doors are thrown open.
Hawk storms inside, shoulders heaving. His clothing is torn, his chest is sweaty, and a trickle of blood runs down one bicep. He’s covered in dust, but the most startling thing is his eyes.
They’re a bright, vicious red. He’s gone wild.
The Conquest Moon is fully upon him.