slowed her fall until, at last, she landed safely in the snow on the mountain’s slope. Sparrow landed beside her and rolled just in time to dodge Mellinor’s water as it hit the ground.
As soon as the water landed, Sparrow was on his feet. “Keep going!” he shouted, pushing her.
Miranda ignored him and looked up. High overhead the enormous tree still clung to the side of the Shaper Mountain. Its branches were still straining toward the sun, but its trunk was a gnawed mess of broken wood where the mountain was clamping down harder and harder as it fought to break through the tree and close the wound. The branches shook one last time before the mountain closed up entirely, cutting the core of the trunk with a final, echoing snap.
“Mellinor,” Miranda said softly as the enormous tree began to fall, the wide green crown flying like a broad arrow straight at their heads. “Get us out of here.”
Water exploded out of her, shooting down the mountain in a torrent. Sparrow jumped in first, and the water swept him away like a twig. Miranda went next, throwing herself into the fast-moving water just before the broken tree crashed into the ledge. The tree screamed as it hit, sending a wave of snow crashing down the mountain, but Miranda was already far away, racing down the icy slope on Mellinor’s water.
It should have been a horrible ride. The mountain was almost vertical below the shelf where they had landed, and the slope was strewn with sharp outcroppings and sudden crags. But Mellinor was adept at keeping her afloat, and the inland sea’s water buoyed her over the roughest bits. Ahead of her, Sparrow seemed to be having a much harder time of things, but she had no time to see why. Less than thirty seconds after picking them up, Mellinor washed them out onto the bridge spanning the ravine between the Shaper Mountain and Knife’s Pass.
Miranda fell coughing and gasping on the cold stone, but before she’d pulled herself together enough to handle more than a simple breath, Mellinor’s voice roared in her ears.
“Keep moving,” he thundered as he drew his water back into her. “The mountain is furious.”
As soon as he said it, Miranda heard it too. A deep roar vibrated through the air, and the whole world began to shake with fury.
“Sparrow!” she shouted, jumping to her feet.
Sparrow was lying on his stomach a dozen feet from her. He rolled over with a groan when she reached him, coughing and clutching his ribs. “Powers,” he muttered. “How do you do that all the time?”
“We have to go,” Miranda said, yanking him up. “The mountain’s destroying the bridge.”
Even as she said it, the stone beneath them started to rock violently back and forth. She pulled Sparrow to his feet and they began to run. The rumbling grew worse with every step, and a new sound began inside the mountain’s furious scream, the sound of stone cracking.
“It’s trying to cut us off,” Sparrow wheezed.
“I know, I know,” Miranda cried, dragging him faster up the arch of the bridge. Cracks spidered under their feet as they ran, spreading like lightning across the smooth stone. Miranda cursed and pushed them faster.
“Come on!” she shouted, dragging Sparrow until she was nearly ripping his arm out of its socket. “Run!”
They ran. They ran as fast as they could, but they could not escape the mountain’s anger. Huge chunks of rock were breaking free all around them, plummeting into the ravine below with small, terrified screams. The cracks under their feet grew larger as the shaking grew more violent until, with a final, echoing crack, the bridge itself broke free.
They weren’t going to make it. The realization hit Miranda like a blow to the face. Already the world was tilting crazily as the bridge, shaken free of its ancient supports, lurched sickeningly sideways. Even so, Miranda kept running. She didn’t know what else to do.
Suddenly, something white landed on the falling bridge in front of them. At first, Miranda thought it was a pile of snow, but it was too gray for snow, almost silver, and moving in swirls. Then the pile stretched out and began to run. Miranda’s eyes went wide, and she felt the scream leave her throat before she realized she’d made a sound.
“Gin!”
Gin tore down the falling bridge faster than the wind itself, barreling straight at them. Miranda held out her hand and jerked for Sparrow to do the same. Gin reached them a second later, and as he passed, she dug her fingers into his thick, coarse fur. The moment her fist clenched on his coat, she was ripped off her feet by the ghosthound’s momentum. He turned on a pin, claws digging into the crumbling stone, and then he kicked off again, running even faster back toward the pass.
Miranda clung to his side, her legs tangled with Sparrow’s as they fought to hold on. This close, she could feel Gin’s lungs thundering, his legs pumping faster than ever before. But in the seconds since Gin had appeared, they’d already fallen a frightening distance. The wall of the ravine rose above them, sheer and white and impossibly tall, the edge completely out of reach. She felt Gin’s muscles tense as his back legs folded beneath him, and then he sprung, kicking the broken bridge off behind them as he launched into the air.
For a breathless moment, they were flying, soaring up out of the ravine. The jagged edge of the bridge’s broken end hung just above them, ten feet, five feet, nearly in reach. And then, just as quickly, it began to move away. Gin’s legs kicked frantically, and Miranda realized they were falling. It was too far. Gin had missed.
From this point, everything happened both painfully slow and blindingly fast.
Miranda’s hand shot out, Durn’s cloudy emerald already flashing with light. The rock spirit tore himself from the ring, grabbing the bridge’s broken edge with one enormous boulder of a fist. At the same time, his other hand swung down to grab Gin’s middle. The stone wrapped around them in a vise and then released, flipping them up. Miranda’s fingers were torn from Gin’s coat as they tumbled through the air and landed sprawling on the smooth stone paving of Knife’s Pass. She grabbed the ground and lay still, pressing herself into the stone to make sure it was real and, more important, not falling. When she was sure she really was grounded, Miranda lifted her head to check on the others. Gin, of course, had already rolled to his feet. Sparrow, on the other hand, was still flat on his stomach, staring at the ground like he’d never seen it before.
With a long, shaky breath, Miranda sat up and held out her hand for Durn. The stone spirit was still hanging from the remains of the broken bridge. When he saw her reaching, he pulled himself up and rolled to her.
“Thank you,” Miranda said, patting the stone with a smile.
“My pleasure, mistress,” Durn said, his gravelly voice smug with pride.
Miranda grinned. It wasn’t often the stone got to play hero. Gin would never hear the end of it. She held her hand steady as Durn broke down and returned to her ring. When he was finished, Miranda let her eyes drift back across the ravine. The Shaper Mountain rose above her, as cold and enormous as ever. Its slopes were smooth and snowy with no trace of the hole Sparrow had punched or the tree he’d used to punch it. Two jagged edges at either side of the ravine, the remains of the broken bridge, were the only signs of the mountain’s anger or their narrow escape from it. The ground, however, was still rumbling.
“Come on,” she said, standing up. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Sparrow said. “Little help, please?”
Miranda walked over and grabbed his hands, pulling him to his feet. He grimaced as he stood, bending slowly, like his ribs hurt him, but he didn’t say anything when Miranda finally got him to his feet.
She left him to get his balance on his own and hurried to catch up with Gin, who was already making his way down the pass.
“Don’t ask,” the ghosthound growled, moving to walk so close Miranda couldn’t take a step without bumping into him. “He’ll hear.”
Miranda nodded and kept her mouth shut.
“He showed up about two hours ago,” Gin continued. “They had me chained in the front hall with the carriages. I would have eaten him, but I didn’t know where you were. He kept saying he was going to get you next. I didn’t believe him, but it’s better to be out than in, so I let him spring me. If you hadn’t shown by noon, I would have hunted him down.”
“Thank you for the sentiment,” Miranda said, glancing back at Sparrow, who was limping to catch up with them. “How did he get you out?”
“Picked the lock,” Gin said. “Impressive bit of work, actually. He’s almost as good as Eli.”
“That’s saying something,” Miranda grumbled, looking back again. Sparrow was falling behind. His face was set in a smug smile, but his body was moving in jerks, and Miranda realized that he must be really injured.
