Steelfinder bares her teeth and fakes a growl. ‘Monster!’
She adjusts Nigh on her hip, and turns to a worried looking older man. ‘We’re leaving. Gather the little ones.’ She shoots a grin at Quickfish, spits out weary dust. ‘Thank you. For coming. I can’t believe we got this far. Just have to get these brats up sky-side now. How hard can that be?’
From the darkness outside, the clash of metal. Screams. Resignation falls over Steelfinder’s face like a shroud.
At her back, Shipwright’s voice is low and breathless. ‘We might not get much further.’ Stooped over, she points back down the hall. Outside the arch the dead draw closer, slinking along the walls. The remains of the chamber guards glisten on their fingers and teeth. When they see Shipwright, a howl goes up, a swirling, vengeful, thing.
Steelfinder sets Nigh down, and wearily hefts her shield. She looks pointedly at Quickfish, her brown eyes soft. ‘She likes you.’
Quickfish nods as he takes Nigh’s squirming hand and pushes her gently behind him. He looks at Roof. ‘Don’t let them take her.’
Roofkeeper winces, running fingers along his jaw. ‘Nobody’s taking anybody.’
There’s something ridiculous in the sound of it. Quickfish grins. ‘I quite like you with that axe.’
Roofkeeper shakes his head. ‘I don’t.’
Beyond the archway something agitates the dead. They glance fretfully over their shoulders, lick their lips like cornered dogs and creep closer.
In response, a shout from Steelfinder’s ragged band, as their shields lock with a clatter, filling the entranceway.
Steelfinder moves to Quickfish’s side, nudges him backwardsgently with a battered shield. Passes him her spear and draws a long, cruel blade. ‘You’ll need this.’
Quickfish shakes his head. ‘I won’t. I can’t … I’m sorry.’
She purses her lips. ‘I don’t have time to explain, but trust me, we can’t save them. Not without the Singers. Or Painter.’
He nods. ‘I know. But … I won’t. I can’t.’ He tucks his arm around Nigh’s shoulders, ‘I’ll keep an eye on her.’
Steelfinder’s face softens. ‘OK. But you better, or Ice’ll skin us both.’
Something howls in the black, out beyond the light’s glow.
The smaller children start to cry as they cluster behind the thin line of guards. Some of the adults cry too.
In response, the shield-wall tightens like a clenched fist, then loosens again as the air ripples. Shipwright shoulders her way forwards, strong fingers moving over something brass which clicks and whirrs fretfully. Quickfish licks the edges of his teeth. It feels like the air is fizzing. Shipwright shoots him a tight smile as she picks up his discarded spear, and snaps off the blade. He watches as she shucks her shirt sleeves down until she can tear strips to bind her raw fingers. He feels his guts unknot a little as she works. She looks up at him and laughs, ‘Your da’s going to shit bricks if I let you die here.’ Maybe she sees the look of panic on his face, but she steps in close, wraps an arm around him, strong as sailcloth.
‘Don’t worry. We survive today. We sort the rest tomorrow.’
She smells comfortingly familiar. Pitch and salt and sun.
As he breathes in, Quickfish’s heart reels for Hesper. Far from here, with an open sky and an open sea. He looks across at Roofkeeper. Lays fingers on his arm. ‘I love you, you know that?’
Roofkeeper smiles. ‘Till the ends of the earth.’
Quickfish glances down the corridor. The dead are closer than ever. ‘We’re nearly there.’
Roof kisses his cheek. ‘Just as well I’m in good company.’ His voice somehow steady, despite it all.
Quickfish turns to Steelfinder and Shipwright. ‘What’s the plan?’
The pair look at him levelly. Shipwright’s face twists with sadness. ‘Keep them from the kids as long as possible.’
He waits for the rest. ‘Oh,’ he says, finally.
Steelfinder smiles sadly at him. ‘I’m sorry, Quick. It’s a mountain. The only way out is up.’
Quickfish nods briefly, moves to stand behind Roofkeeper. A hollow feeling in his gut, that leaks into his spine, his shaking arms. Nigh’s hand is small in his, sweaty-palmed. She seems calm for now. Quickfish doesn’t want to scare her. Instead he presses his face against Roofkeeper’s back, feeling the warmth of him, the wool, the sweat.
