Moth

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: STEEL AND FEATHERS

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

STEEL AND FEATHERS

Torin raced through the streets, heart thrashing.

"I saw him!" he shouted. "I saw Ferius ahead with a group of his thugs."

His friends ran at his sides. Bailey snarled and pumped her arms. Cam and Hem teetered behind, armor ill-fitting and breath puffing. All across the city, Timandrian troops marched, flowing down every boulevard, road, and alleyway, seeking fighters, killing any Elorian they found bearing a weapon.

Torin clenched his fists as he ran, remembering the monk's words.

I will slay every man, woman, and child in this city . . . and you will watch, Torin. You will watch them burn.

"Torin!" Hem shouted behind, breathing heavily. His cheeks were red and soaked with sweat. "Torin, I can't . . . I can't run!"

Cam too sweated. He spat and tugged his friend along. "Come on, Hem. We have to stop that bastard monk before he burns this whole damn city."

Torin growled and kept running. The monks had disappeared around a street corner ahead, but when Torin emerged around the bend, he saw only shadows. A dozen alleyways stretched off the road like doors along a corridor. Somewhere in the distance, the sounds of battle rose. Torin heard Ferius cackling and an Elorian shouting in her tongue, her voice pained.

"By Idar's beard, he's murdering people already," Torin muttered. "We end this now. Whatever alley he ran into will be his grave."

His rage surprised him. He had never thought himself a killer, but blood already stained his hands and soul.

So let me be a killer, he thought. Let this blood consume me. I should have ended this a year ago. I could have ended this. I will stick this sword into Ferius's gut and we can go home.

They ran along the street. Buildings of opaque glass bricks rose alongside, their awnings stretching above like a roof. Stalls, wagons, and barrels lay abandoned across the street. Tin plates still held the wares of merchants. This had been a market, but the Elorians had abandoned the place. Torin only glimpsed eyes peering from windows.

"Ferius!" he shouted. "Ferius, where do you cower?"

The sound of Ferius cackling faded. Damn it! Torin was running the wrong way. He turned back, panting, and raced into an alleyway, trying to follow the sound. Scattered scarves, live crabs who'd fled from a toppled basket, and lost coins spread around his feet. Lanterns swung above upon wires, their faces mocking him.

"Ferius!"

Torin looked over his shoulder. Cam and Hem had fallen behind, wheezing. Bailey still ran with him, whipping her head from side to side.

"Torin, I don't like this," she said. "We're alone in a dark alley in a foreign city. Elorians hide inside these homes; some might be armed." She hefted her shield. "Where is that damn Ferius?"

They kept running. They raced down a cobbled alleyway, the buildings so grimy Torin could barely see the bricks' original color. A mile or two away, upon the city hilltop, Pahmey's crystal towers glittered, things of beauty and wealth. Here, still near the city walls, spread a labyrinth of dirt and twisting corridors of glass, stone, and leather. The sounds of battle still rose somewhere in this hive; Torin heard Ferius chanting his prayers, blessing the sunlight for slaying the demons of the night.

"Bailey, we have to split up." Torin pointed down a street lined with bronze statues of leaping fish. "Head that way. Take the boys. Find Ferius and stop him." He turned toward another street, this one dark and twisting, awnings forming a roof above it. "I'll seek him there."