The Orphan Queen (The Orphan Queen #1)(94)
I squeezed the small ring in my hand, the ridges sharp even through my leather gloves, and then looped the chain over my head. The ring thumped on my breastbone. “Let’s go!” I called.
Rain misted across the bailey as we lit candles and tucked them inside rusted old lanterns. As quickly as we dared in the dark, in the storm, we hurried down the mountain and raced toward Skyvale below.
On a ridge overlooking the city, I halted, breath steaming in the cold air. The other four stopped at my sides. Hands fell into mine as they gasped. Theresa let out a sob.
Flames lit the western sky, all red and orange and gold as they reached toward the swirling clouds. Sparks scattered like stars. The forest was burning, whipped into a blaze under the shrieking wind. Heat billowed over the valley, brushing the mountainside, bringing with it the stink of smoke and wraith, a miasma that coiled up the back of my nose and made my head spin. Even from here, I could hear the roar of the fire, and the screams that wouldn’t be drowned out.
Every streetlamp glowed in the city below, as though it, too, had been set alight. Though the mirrors of Skyvale faced away from us, the glow of the fire’s reflected light shone all around them like a halo. Streams of people flowed from the city gates, pouring into the refugee camps and toward the mountains.
“What’s happening?” Connor shielded his face with his forearm.
“They’re fleeing.” I urged the Ospreys onward. “I need to hurry. You four don’t have to go with me. You can help people to safety in the woods. Try to organize them and find others who can help you. I’ll find you after it’s over.”
“After what’s over?” asked Kevin. “Are you going to fight the wraith beast?”
I glanced at the lit city, the palace, the clock tower, the darker patches of the Flags and Greenstone. “I’m going to find it, anyway. It’s calling my name. I’m the only one who needs to go.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” said Connor. “What if you get hurt?”
I squeezed his shoulder. “It’s all right. Help people. I’ll find you at one of our usual spots in the city. You know them, Rees?”
Theresa nodded. Smoke, or something else, made tears glimmer in her eyes. “Be safe.”
I hugged each of my friends and left my bag with them; I wore my weapons on my hips, my notebook in my pocket, and my ring around my neck. Black Knife’s mask waited in a belt loop.
Gravity pulled me down the mountain. I ran as fast as I could until I hit the first wave of refugees—they were all refugees now—and stopped to point them toward where I’d left my Ospreys.
“There are people who can help you find shelter.” I had to shout over the wind and rain and roar of fire devouring the forest beyond the city. How long would this side be safe? Even the driving rain wasn’t dousing the fire with the wind stirring everything so thoroughly.
Wet and shivering, the refugees thanked me and pulled one another farther up the ancient road.
I ran, pausing to urge people onward, promise them hope waited just above.
The minutes stretched longer. My flight down the mountain seemed to take twice as long as the hike up, but every time I spurred myself faster, my feet caught roots and tangles of brush, as though the mountain conspired to keep me up here.
“Wilhelmina!” The unearthly voice boomed from somewhere below, louder than thunder. “Wilhelmina Korte!”
The sound of the wraith screaming my name made me shudder, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t slow. I didn’t let anything break my stride until I finally reached the base of the mountain where a thick mass of people pushed and shoved their way into the forest.
Babies and children wailed as their parents pulled them along, urging them not to look up or behind, or anywhere but the road straight ahead. People carried baskets and bags of clothes and supplies. Others attempted to herd horses and cows with little success. Screams and sobbing blended into the terrible cacophony of Skyvale falling apart.
“Stay on the road!” I cupped my hands around my mouth as I moved along the edge of the crowd. “There’s help on the mountain. There’s shelter. But stay on the road.”
My shouts were hardly worth it. No one listened. People pushed and shoved, trampling one another to reach the safety of the mountains. What could I do? I had to get into the city, but this exodus was on the verge of becoming a riot. But who was I? No one to them.
Unless I was Black Knife.
I pulled his mask over my head, immediately enveloped in the soft musky scent of boy. With my sword out, I stepped into a shard of light.
Someone pointed. “It’s Black Knife!”
Immediately, people began to crowd me, reach for me, and touch me as they had before, but I shouted for them to back up and brandished my sword.
“You, you, and you.” I pointed to a handful of people who looked my age. “Gather everyone you know and get this crowd under control. Get people back on their feet. And you four”—I nodded at a clutch of children, maybe Connor’s age—“tell everyone that Black Knife is promising safety in the mountain, but they must stop fighting one another. No one dies tonight.”
The children and teenagers ran off, and I moved down the mob of people, giving others the same instructions. I couldn’t tell whether the crowd was calming, and I couldn’t hear much over the din of voices and fire and roaring thunder, but I hoped with everything inside me that the people I’d recruited to help would be successful.