The Alchemists of Loom (Loom Saga #1)(81)
“Brace yourselves,” he shouted as the first tree scraped the bottom of the glider.
Controlled falling he could barely manage. But the amount of magic required to keep the wings aloft, descend evenly—they were skills he’d never learned or even thought to work on. The added difficulty of dodging the silent sentinels of the dark forest made the idea of a smooth landing impossible. He just hoped he wouldn’t kill everyone before they touched the ground.
Branches scraped at them as they broke through the tree line. Cvareh’s right eye was gouged out by a rogue wooden hook and he cried out in pain, fighting to keep his focus on the task at hand while his eye slowly regrew. He swung right and left, pulling on the handles, his magic straining to keep them aloft and avoid the thick trunks of the trees.
They came in hot and fast, crashing against the ground and sending a tidal wave of brush, leaves, and dirt scattering away in all directions. Two people up front were thrown off, and Florence nearly was as well. Cvareh grabbed for the young woman, pinning her against his chest as he grabbed the railing with his other hand. The glider finally slammed into a fallen tree, tipping forward and purging the last of its contents.
Cvareh twisted in the air, placing himself between Florence and the ground. He had all the wind knocked out of him and his back was shredded from a twig or ten as they skidded to a stop. He panted for air, not moving for a long moment.
Florence did the same before rolling off him with a groan. They both let the world spin and slowly settle into place. The high canopy of the forest was thick, not allowing any of the ambient light from the moon above the clouds that coated Loom through. It wasn’t much better than the Underground.
Loom was a dark world of gray people and horrors. It was full of struggle and nine-hundred and ninety-nine reasons to die. The Fenthri were the people who found the one reason to live, time and again.
As if to prove the point, Florence sat with a groan. The girl, for all her bruises and exhaustion, moved before he did. He watched her blink, trying to process in the darkness.
She jumped when a large rumble shook the earth, followed by the boom of an explosion through the trees. The airship had finally joined them. Florence grabbed her shirt over her heart, struggling to her feet, pushing herself forward, stumbling, getting up again, striving to get to her teacher.
Cvareh wouldn’t let her struggle alone. He stood as well, crossing to her front and kneeling with his back to her.
“We’ll move faster if you let me carry you.”
Understanding, Florence wrapped her arms around his shoulders, letting him grab her thighs. She weighed next to nothing. He suspected her long raven colored hair was half of her overall mass. He knew where they were headed, and started in that direction.
“Where are you going?” one of the other Fenthri called to them. “We should stay with the glider. They’ll send search parties from Keel.”
“You can wait. We had someone on the airship we’re going to find,” Florence replied.
“No one survived that. And going wandering in the Skeleton Forest alone is just inviting the endwig to attack,” the man cautioned.
“You don’t know the woman we’re looking for. There’s no way she’d let a little airship crash kill her.”
“Suit yourselves.” The man shrugged. He pulled a signal flare from the compartment of the glider and shot it up into the air.
Cvareh and Florence walked in the opposite direction. He set a sustainable pace, quick but not fast enough to exhaust him before they reached their destination. Florence’s small head rested on his shoulder, her breathing consistent in his ear.
“Thank you for going back for her,” she whispered.
“You never had any doubt I would.” He smiled tiredly at himself.
“It’s in the opposite direction of where you want to go.”
“No.” He shook his head. “This is the exact direction I want to go.”
The three of them had set out for the Alchemists’ Guild together. They would make it together, he resolved. He wasn’t leaving Arianna behind. He still had a lot to learn about the woman. He wanted to understand every flavor he’d ever tasted of her. He wanted to know what made shadows cloud her eyes in broad daylight. He wanted to know what made her different from anyone he’d ever met.
They arrived at the crash site without incident. Panting, Cvareh eased Florence to the ground. He took gulps of air, trying to split through the scents.
“Ari!” Florence called. “Arianna!”
Smoke, oil, coal, grease, steel, iron, wood, bronze, pine. They filled his nose, lit up like a giant candle and the twisted airship was the wick. He walked in a circle, inviting every scent.
Then he got a waft of strawberry. Cvareh looked around him in panic for the light, out-of-place scent. Leona. Where was she?
His talons shot out from his fingers. A growl rose in his throat. If the King’s Bitch survived at Arianna’s expense, he would switch them personally in the chambers of Lord Xin. He would steal his Fenthri’s soul back from the gods themselves.
The scent led him to a sight he wasn’t expecting. He should’ve known what it meant when it didn’t move. Leona’s body had been thrown from the airship and lay face-first in the pine needles not far off, her ruby-colored skin illuminated by the orange flames. Cvareh knew she was dead before he flipped her over and saw the hole in her chest.