souls that don’t follow Jules pursue me and Bastien. “Careful!” I say, as one draws near him. I reach for his hand and tug him out of the way. We keep our fingers locked as we race onward. He veers when I pull him. “On your right!” I warn. He whips out his knife and cuts another Chained man across the chest.
“Is he dead?” Bastien looks back as we race faster.
“He was already dead.”
“Right.” He tightens his grip on my hand.
Two Chained come at us from both sides. “Duck!” I shout.
Bastien drops to the ground and dodges a brutal punch. I roll over his back and stab one of the Chained men in his side. I turn to fight the second one, but Bastien’s already sliced his legs. He kicks him down, then jumps back up.
Our hands come together again, and we keep running. I glance back and scan the now-distant cliff for my mother. Or Sabine. Or any Ferrier. But all I see is the grassy plateau glowing with the chazoure of the dead.
I have to stop them before they reach Jules and Marcel—and then all of South Galle.
I have to get the flute.
28
Sabine
MY LEGS BURN AS I near the top of the long flight of stairs. I’ve fought and outrun two Chained already, but at least five more are ahead of me. Finally, I’m close enough to one to attack.
I raise my staff to slam it down on him, when someone grabs my dress from behind. I swing my staff around, but the staircase is too narrow. My staff hits the limestone wall with a loud crack. Instinctively, I kick and shove the Chained off me. But then I see she wears no chains. She’s only a young girl, at the most twelve years old, with chazoure-glowing ringlets.
Her eyes round as she tumbles backward, falling down the steep stairs. My chest pangs. “I’m sorry!” I run down three steps after her, but then I force myself to stop. I’ve hurt her, but she won’t die. Ailesse might.
I turn around, but the other Chained are already gone. I race up the last steps and squeeze through the narrow gap between the boulders. Once I’m through, my mouth falls open. The bluff is lit up with chazoure. Twenty or more of the dead are up here. Mostly Chained. Some are fighting among each other, as well as a few Unchained. The rest retreat from the cliff.
Hope surges through me until I see Ailesse in the distance. Her auburn hair billows as she runs directly away from me, across the plateau. The souls aren’t leaving her—half are following her, and she’s chasing the rest.
I start to call her name, but my throat runs dry. My sharp vision focuses. The Chained around her separate just enough for me to see that she’s with someone—Bastien. And they’re holding hands.
My feet trip. A rush of dizziness seizes me. I don’t understand. Ailesse escaped Bastien to come here and bring back the bone flute.
Didn’t she?
She’s running with him, not being dragged behind. It almost looks like she’s leading him.
Of course she is. She’s the only one who can see the dead. And if the dead kill Bastien, she’ll die, too. She’s only fleeing with him because it’s her better chance to survive the Chained. Though that doesn’t explain why she’s pursuing some of them.
It doesn’t matter. She still needs help.
She still needs me.
I race after her, then shriek as another soul lashes my arm. He’s using his dangling chain as a whip. The blow knocks my staff away.
I clutch my arm and stagger backward. The man comes for me again. He swings his chains above his head. I have no weapon to block him.
His chains slash downward. I drop, wrapping my hands over my head to protect myself. Nothing hits me. I look up and gasp. Odiva is here. The skirt of her dress drips with seawater. Her raven hair ripples like black fire. The man’s chains are caught around the end of her staff. With incredible strength, she throws him far off the cliff.
I’m awestruck as she pulls me to my feet. “Are you all right?” she asks.
I nod, dazed, and release a shuddering breath. “But Ailesse . . . Bastien has her again.”
Odiva winces, just a slight flare of her nostrils, and looks across the plateau. The moment she notices them, she stiffens and curls her hands. Her darkening glare makes my blood run cold.