70. Harper
70
Harper focused on Ragnar. His presence was her anchor, all that kept her from falling apart and being dashed in the wind. She was going to give them hell. If she was going to die, if they both were, there was no reason not to go down fighting. Her fingers scrabbled inside her cloak, desperately seeking the dagger.
With a roar, Ragnar faced the Kingsguard, who rushed toward him. Harper plunged the dagger into the arm around her throat. All of the screaming and cursing around them were drowned out by a blaze of light and heat as flames erupted from Aedon, bathing the Kingsguard before him. The hands around Harper vanished. She collapsed to the floor and slumped against the portcullis, gasping for breath, utterly spent.
Aedon’s fire grew. Slowly turning her head, she could see how he glowed from the inside out. He’s beautiful… and deadly, Harper thought. Each breath hurt, as though her throat had been squeezed permanently shut and would not open, and the heat in the air around her burnt her mouth. Stars still danced before her eyes, and her fingers were limp around the handle of the dagger.
I need to get up, she thought, but it was impossible, and Aedon was so captivating to watch. It was almost as if he was moving in slow motion. He turned, and an arcing jet of white-yellow-orange-red fire gushed from him. The cloaks of the Kingsguard caught fire. The red of the fabric deepened the colours of the flames. The plumes of their helmets flamed, too, like columns of flickering light shooting for the rocky ceiling.
Men ripped their cloaks and helms off, desperately trying to stamp out the fire, but as Aedon continued, they ran. Inferno after inferno he sent at them, advancing a step at a time, until they fled into the dark vaults. The portcullis rumbled to life at Harper’s back. As it rose, she tumbled backwards, crashing upon the floor. Aedon rushed to her side, Ragnar and the others arriving soon after.
“Harper, can you hear me?”
She could not tell who the voice belonged to. She found the strength to raise a hand that did not feel like hers. Another grasped it, almost too hot to touch.
“Harper!” Aedon’s piercing voice cut through her daze. He knelt beside her and helped her into a sitting position. She slumped against his chest. “Thank goodness you’re alive.” She heard them speak around her as though from a great distance. Her lips parted and closed, but no sound emerged.
“What in the blazes was that?” Brand spluttered.
“Er, can we discuss this another time?” asked Aedon. Brand narrowed his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. “Fine. Long story short, I repurposed the power of the wards into fire magic. It’s not a big deal.”
“Right,” Brand mumbled, dumbfounded. “Not a big deal.”
“We need to get her out of here,” Ragnar said, biting his lip as he felt Harper’s forehead.
“A moment, please. I need to give her strength to move.”
Aedon dragged his bloodied hand across her cheek and cocooned her under his other arm. He murmured words she couldn’t understand that slipped in and out of her ears as easily as wind through hair. Harper felt the tingle of magic rush through her. Slowly, the fog in her mind retreated, then her pain, until she felt well enough to sit up on her own.
“Better?” Aedon asked. She nodded, but he did not remove his support until she was on her feet and he was certain she could walk unaided.
“Let’s go,” snapped Erika. “The entire hold will have heard that din.”
“We need another way out,” Ragnar said with a pointed glance at Aedon.
“Remember, we’re not the Dragonheart,” said Aedon. “We’re the decoy. The king won’t be able to resist trying to pin me down now. Brand, take Harper and go. A tall, high place… You know what to do. We’ll see you on the other side. Erika, Ragnar, come with me. We can’t use the front door, so we might as well try the back.”
“Try?” asked Ragnar.
“We’ve been in worse predicaments,” said Aedon with a smile.
Ragnar spluttered.
“Come on!” Erika scowled and set off.
Harper looked at Aedon, completely baffled. “We have to split up?”
“Trust me,” said Aedon. For once, there was no hint of mischief. He was uncharacteristically serious. “We’ll see you soon.”
“Harper, this way.”
For a short time, they ran together through the hall. The clamour ahead set Harper’s nerves on edge once more. At a crossroads, the group split in two without a word. Harper followed Brand into the darkness. The Aerian forged ahead along a perfectly flat corridor, which was lit by tiny lamps that offered little help.
“Stairs,” was his only warning before they ran into the rising spiral. Harper pushed as hard as she could, struggling to keep up. Brand’s giant wings, which barely fit in the narrow confines, rustled and scraped along the thick stone. He pulled farther ahead. Her lungs burned. Her legs screamed.
A different kind of light emerged. Suddenly, there were slitted windows in the walls that punctuated the stairwell at every level. The stone here was over an arm’s length thick. As she raced past each opening, she glanced out. They were so high. Where were they going?
Soon, Brand came to a door. It offered little resistance against his bulk as he ran into it. He contorted his body to slip his wings through. Once he had made sure the coast was clear, he reached a hand in to tug her out faster.
Harper gasped. It was the pinnacle of Tournai. A watch tower. A walled ledge surrounded them. Brand peered over the edge. Harper followed suit. Her stomach flipped. They were so high up, she could not even comprehend the height. The road to the city was nothing more than a tiny ribbon trailing through the valley.
From where she stood, the wall around the city looked like parchment, the buildings a sprawling collection of crumbs. The wind tugged and tore at her, teasing that it would pull her off and fling her to her death below.
“Where do we go?” She turned in a circle, seeing nowhere else to go, except down the staircase from which they had emerged.
Brand pointed out… toward nothing.
Harper raised an eyebrow. A suspicious inkling began to unfurl in her stomach, and she very much hoped it was wrong. Oh no.
“We’re going to fly. Low and fast.”
“Slight problem,” she said, her tone light, though she felt like screaming. “I can’t fly.”
“I can,” Brand replied. He smirked a little at her discomfort.
“But you can’t carry me,” she said desperately. Not this high. Not this far. Not again. “There must be another way.”
“Nope.”
“They’ll see us!” The sun was high, and the sky bright. There was no way for them to escape undetected—and she did not want to be there when Toroth unleashed his dragons to hunt the skies.
“We really don’t have a choice, Harper. Sooner or later, they’re going to find us up here. If we’re not gone…” He left the rest to her imagination.
“All right. If you’re sure,” she replied, swallowing her nerves. She nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”
Brand opened his arms wide for her to come to him.
“Please don’t drop me,” she whispered as she leaned into his chest.
His laugh rumbled through him as his arms closed around her, firm and strong. He lifted her with ease and turned to hop onto the parapet. Harper squeezed her eyes shut, clamped down on the rising nausea that threatened to overwhelm her, and clutched onto Brand’s clothing. It was still not enough.
The door slammed open behind them, crashing into the stone wall. Brand wheeled around.
“You!” he snarled and crouched into a defensive position. One armed, he shifted Harper behind himself and drew his blade with his free hand.
Dimitrius stood before them, his hands up and magic balling at his fists in the face of the giant angry Aerian. Then he spied Harper. Their eyes locked. And the spymaster’s magic guttered out. Silence hung between them.
“If you’re going to attack, do it now before I make the first move, elf,” Brand snarled, but Dimitrius’s eyes did not leave Harper.