The Other Side of the Sky - Amie Kaufman Page 0,27

direction, tail whipping behind it.

“Hey, wait!” My words are a hiss, and I’m frozen in place. Did it understand me? Is it going somewhere? Should I follow it? Or is it …

A sound off to my left instantly answers my question. There’s a group of five shapes moving toward me across the shallow mirror of the lake, creatures at least as tall as my chest. Like the little one, they’re moving on four legs, and when one turns its head I see its silhouette.

There are knives coming out of the front of its face.

My brain scrambles for the right word, one I heard from Saelis when we were small. They’re … tusks.

I’ve seen one bird hunt another, and I know instantly what I’m looking at: predators. I shrink in against the glider once more, holding my breath, trying to keep so perfectly still that I don’t even send out a ripple. But one of them lets out a hideous, squealing grunt, and the others answer, and when they quicken their pace it’s not in the direction of the little thing that had the smarts to make a run for it. They’re circling around to pin me in against the side of the Skysinger.

I lunge for the front of the craft, my hands closing around a strut as the creatures charge toward me. The metal cold against my hands, I brace one foot against the glider’s side and yank. When the pole comes free there’s a piece of canvas stuck on the end, the sparks nestled in its fold springing into fire as I brandish it.

The nearest of the animals pulls up short, just outside my range, and by the light of my brand I can see it clearly. It’s like my nightmares had nightmares, and those came to life—a huge pair of dirtied yellow tusks sit on either side of a long, blunt, hairy nose—the coarse hair covers its whole body, the muscle visible beneath it. Its teeth are just as sharp, poking out of its mouth in a vicious overbite, and long, curved horns sweep back from its head.

It snarls and grunts again. I swing the strut at it, then around to my right in an arc, forcing its nearest neighbor to pull up short as well. In a moment, four of them have formed a semicircle around me, the broken glider at my back, and I’m reduced to instinct as I work desperately to keep them at bay. But I know I can’t do it forever—the fire will burn out, they’ll grow bolder, they’ll realize I can’t stop all of them at once.

They’re grunting and squealing and slobbering, and I can’t tell if they’re communicating or just so frenzied at the thought of skewering me with their face knives that they can’t help screaming about it. And then there’s an echoing bang from behind me, as the fifth finally tells me where it is by trying to charge straight through the Skysinger to get me.

I yelp. And then I see another dark shape. This one is taller, thinner, with some kind of horn rising up above it.

No, no, no, my panicked brain chants. One more attacker will tip the balance. I can’t fight one more thing—I can’t even fight these things much longer. The strut is knocked from my hand, and I know I’m about to feel those tusks ripping me apart.

Then light bursts into blinding brilliance all around me, throwing long, sharp shadows against the surface of the water.

For a fraction of a second, the newcomer is outlined, and it’s a person. The horn is a staff in their hand, and it’s bright as the sun—and then I’m throwing up my arm to shield my eyes, turning in against the Skysinger to protect my face.

I can’t see a thing, but I can hear perfectly—every individual heartbeat as my chest tries to explode. Every grunt and squeal and splash as the creatures and their face knives run for their lives, setting off across the mirror lake like a flock of frightened pidges.

And then silence, save for the shallow water lapping against the sides of the glider.

Slowly I turn, lowering my arm, blinking against the white flashes still going off in my vision.

As the white sparks slowly fade out, I see a black shape against the starlight before me. A silhouette. And then her features start to emerge.

It’s a girl. Her mouth and nose are covered by a band of cloth, and all I can make out are a