uncomplaining while we hurried, feet sore and the sharp thin air painful in our throats.
We stopped to catch our breath by a jutting outcrop with a tiny summer stream trickling; just enough to cup a handful for our mouths, and as I straightened up a raucous cawing near my head made me jump. A black crow with glossy feathers stared at me from the branch of a wizened tree clinging between rocks. It cawed again, loudly.
The crow paced us as we fled, hopping from branch to rock to rock. I threw a pebble at it, trying to make it go away; it only jumped away and cawed again, a sour triumphant note. Two more joined it a little farther on. The path snaked along the crest of the ridge, green grass rolling gently away to either side down to steep slopes.
We kept running. The path dived as one mountain pulled away from it, leaving a sickening drop to the right. Maybe we were past the peak by now. I couldn’t stop running long enough to think about it properly. I nearly dragged Stashek along by his arm. Somewhere behind us, I heard a horse shriek: as if it had slipped, running too fast on the narrow mountain pass. The crows lifted into the air, circling, and went to go and see; all except for our one steady companion, hopping along, its bright eyes fixed on us.
The air was thin; we struggled and gasped for air as we ran. The sun was sinking.
“Stop!” someone far behind us shouted, and an arrow sailed down, clattering against the rocks over our heads. Kasia stopped, pushed Marisha into my arms when I caught up to her, and took the place at the rear. Stashek threw a frightened look back at me.
“Keep going!” I said. “Keep going until you see the tower!” Stashek pelted on and vanished with the trail around a wall of rock. I heaved Marisha up close against me, her arms wrapping tight around my neck and her legs around my waist, clinging, and ran after him. The horses were so close we could hear pebbles crunching under their hooves.
“I can see it!” Stashek was calling from up ahead.
“Hold on tight,” I told Marisha, and ran as fast as I could, her body bumping against me; she tucked her cheek down against my shoulder and didn’t speak. Stashek turned anxiously as I came panting around the curve: he was standing on a ledge jutting out from the mountainside, almost wide enough to be a meadow. My legs were spent: I spilled to the ground, just barely keeping my knees long enough to put Marisha down without falling on top of her. We’d come out onto the southern slopes. Below us the path continued to snake back and forth across the mountain all the way down to Olshanka.
And on the other side of the town, in front of the western mountains, the Dragon’s tower stood gleaming white in the sun, still small and far away. It was ringed around with soldiers, a small army of men in yellow surcoats. I stared at it desperately. Had they gotten inside? The great doors were still closed; there was no smoke coming from the windows. I didn’t want to believe the tower had fallen. I wanted to shout Sarkan’s name, I wanted to fling myself across the yawning air. I got back up on my feet.
Kasia had stopped in the narrow road behind us. She drew out the sword I’d given her even as the horses came around the curve. Marek was with them, leading; his spurs were wet with blood and he had his sword drawn, his teeth bared in a snarl. His bay came charging, and Kasia didn’t move. Her hair was flying loose, streaming in the wind. She planted her feet wide in the trail and held the sword out straight, and Marek had to yank aside the horse’s head or ride directly onto the blade.
He pulled up, but smashed his own sword down at her as he twisted the horse on the narrow path. Kasia caught the blow and whacked it aside with pure brute strength. She knocked the sword straight out of Marek’s hand. It struck the edge of the path and fell over, disappearing down the mountainside with a wash of pebbles and dust.
“A pike!” Marek shouted, and a soldier threw him one; he caught it easily even as he wheeled his horse around on the path. He brought the