*COMPLETE* Allayria promised to do what it takes to stop the Jarles, to make the ugly decision. She thinks, at last, she understands what the dynast meant. The lesson earned from the top of that lonely cliff and given the dark murky water below.
It...
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They break into the hall—her, Lei, and a few of the other soldiers—running down the thin corridor, chasing the commotion.
"Do you think there's an accident?" one of the men is saying to another, heaving a medical bag alongside his sword.
Allayria can think of several heavy things that could have caused the upheaval, not to mention the Gods-only-know-what Qui Wren had packed inside these ships too.
They turn a sharp corner, racing onto the open side deck that wraps around the barracks, the wind blasting them, ruffling their clothes, shifting the blood-flecked debris that is scattered on the floor in front of them. Out, below they can see it: another massive ship pressed against their hull.
"That's Ship Two," one of the soldiers yells, skittering over to the railing, leaning over and looking out. "What the bloody hell are they thinking—?"
But there is something traveling across the sloping stretch of that ship's balloon: small figures clad in red.
Understanding hits her like a bolt in the dark, or the cold, icy touch of water.
This is not an accident.
A door ahead of them busts open, and just as they turn, just as Allayria begins to pull quick, silver strips of metal out of her pocket, a man comes outside.
Ben.
And then there's impact—an arm, thrust across Allayria's chest, pushing her back, pushing her behind, as Lei crowds into her vision, his back to her, facing the man across the way.
But Ben does not move forward; he darts back inside.
Where? Allayria starts, but is caught again as Lei's hands seize her shoulders, pressing, pushing.
"We have to find a way off of here," he yells, the coolness of his voice breaking. "Stay behind me."
"He doesn't have it," Allayria shouts back, still struggling to move around him.
He doesn't have the bow and, without it, he can't break the recurrence of Paragons. He won't risk the wait. He's not here for me.
She grips Lei's sleeve: "He's here for something else."
Whatever it is, he can't have it.
She ducks around the grasp of Lei's fingers, ignoring the way he screams, all fear and fury, as she shoves through the door. The inside of the aircraft is chaos; the presence of outsiders has been registered and the shouts and cracks of wood ring through the decks. Allayria looks around, questing for an indication of where he went—what he's after—and takes the stairs down, scrambling past a tangle of soldiers, over crumpled bodies, and around caved-in doors.
She gives chase when she catches sight of a figure in red, but it is not him, only some other faceless Cabal man whose head she cracks with a swing of steel. Shrieks sieve through the air and she pursues that, pressing out through crumpled walls and around precarious holes to break through to the lower level's outer walkway. There's more blood on the ground here, smeared and smudged with footprints and the wind whips up viciously as the whole contraption lurches, teetering ominously until it rights itself.
