Bloodfire Quest (The Dark Legacy of Shannara, #2)(30)

“Don’t bother,” she snapped, fighting hard to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“But it’s obstructing the target.”

“You heard me. Leave it where it is.”

She stared at his knife protruding from the center of the black circle and felt an unreasonable rage sweep through her. He hadn’t even looked before throwing! How was she supposed to match that? But she was determined to try. She would not give in. Not to him.

She took a long, steadying breath, braced herself, and whipped the throwing knife underhand at the target. The blade shattered the handle of Austrum’s weapon and fell to the decking.

She waited for his response, unable to look at him. “Doesn’t count, my lady of skills and beauty,” he said at last. “You have to stick it for it to count.”

“It was dead on top of your own throw.” She held his gaze, refusing to look away. “It would have stuck if your own knife hadn’t obstructed it. It counts.”

He shook his head. “Not according to the rules. You should be penalized, if anything. You damaged my knife. Even if I can salvage the blade, I’ll have to replace the handle.”

She was livid. She knew she had been lucky with her throw, but now he was trying to steal the victory from her! She looked around at the other Rovers, aware that the boisterous crowd had gone mostly silent. She couldn’t tell whether it was a result of discomfort over her confrontation with Austrum or astonishment over the accuracy of their throws.

“Who agrees with Austrum?” she snapped. “What do the rules say about this?”

Edras, older and even more whipcord-thin than Austrum, gave her a wry smile. “There isn’t any rule. I don’t think anyone’s ever even seen this happen.” He hesitated. “I say we call it a tie.”

There were nods and murmurs of agreement from the others. Declare it a tie and leave it at that. No need to choose between the two of you.

But Mirai didn’t want it to end in a tie. She hadn’t even wanted to be a part of this competition, but now all she could think about was winning it. Calling it a tie was condescending and demeaning, and she would not stand for it.

“We’ll throw again,” she insisted, wheeling back on Austrum.

He flushed a deep red. “You still owe me a new knife.”

She laughed at his petulance, unable to stop herself even though she knew it was the wrong thing to do. He was immediately furious, but stood his ground, insistent. “You find this funny, do you, little Highland girl?”

That was when she felt the coin break in her pocket.

She bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue, reached into her pocket, and extracted the pieces of the coin to make certain she was not mistaken. “We have to stop this,” she said at once.

Austrum, mistaking the reason for her demand, threw up his hands. “You just said you wanted to continue! You really don’t know your own mind do you, chilchun?”

In Rover slang, that name was the worst insult possible. So bad, in fact, that she almost hit him. Edras was upset enough that he grabbed Austrum by the shoulders and pulled him around threateningly.

“No, stop,” Mirai said quickly, not wanting this to go any farther. “Let it be. He misunderstands, that’s all.” She faced Austrum. “The coin given me by the Ard Rhys has broken in two. Just now, in my pocket. That means she needs us to come to her. She’s in trouble.”

Austrum stared at her, caught off balance. He started to say something and stopped. Then he shook his head in disgust and walked off.



The Rovers already knew about the coin and the signal it would send if the Ard Rhys needed the Walker Boh to come to her aid. Mirai had discussed it with them after the others had departed for the first time, seeing no reason for them not to know and every reason for them to understand the urgency should the coin break. They were the lifeline for those on the ground who had gone into the Fangs, and it was their responsibility to come to the rescue of their companions if the need should arise.

Even so, they knew better than to respond recklessly and without consideration for the dangers involved. Foremost of these was the darkness that was fast closing around them. As much as Mirai wanted to leave at once in response to the coin’s signal, she would have to wait until morning. Any attempt to penetrate the heavy mists of the Fangs would involve avoiding the clusters of stone pillars that could tear apart the underside of the Walker Boh’s hull, and that would require as much daylight as possible. Going in at night was suicide.

Reluctantly, the group agreed to postpone any rescue until dawn, spending the interval between then and now making the ship and themselves ready for the following day. They put away their throwing knives and went to work coiling up lines and tightening down stays and fastenings, clearing off the decks, and talking over how they would attempt an entry, bringing the Trolls into the discussion so that they could prepare themselves, as well.

No one thought for a minute that this would be easy. It was one thing to sail an airship high enough to avoid the treacherous forest of stone spears clustered below; it was another to make a descent into their midst. But that was what would be required if they were to be of any use to the Ard Rhys and her little company.

They ate their dinner late and after glasses of ale rolled into their blankets, anticipating an early rising. The night was deep and clouded over, and there was little light from moon or stars. The air was windless and infused with a metallic smell, and no sounds penetrated the stillness save for the snores of the men sleeping.