Arietta stepped onto the top of the wall, then crouched in the shadows of the parapet. She heard Joelle’s voice down at the base of the stairs, calling out to Kleef.
When Malik did not reveal himself, Arietta whispered, “Malik?”
Her only reply was the sound of Joelle’s boots pounding up the stairs behind her, and the faint rustle of leaves, coming up from the trees on the other side of the parapet.
Or were they leaves?
Arietta rose high enough to peer over the parapet and found herself looking down on the vast Chondalwood forest. The canopy was perhaps twenty feet below, a billowing blanket of moonlit leaves that came up tight against the base of citadel walls. She saw no sign of niches or crannies in which the little man might hide, but the walls were rough enough that he could have climbed down to conceal himself among the trees.
Arietta leaned over the parapet, then called again, “Malik?”
This time, a soft scoff sounded behind her. Arietta turned to see a gray blur charging toward her, two outstretched hands leading the way.
“Malik!” Arietta let go of her bow and raised an arm to defend herself. “What are you-”
Then he hit her, and Arietta felt herself going over the parapet. She grabbed a handful of coarse wool, then realized it was too late to save herself, that she would only pull her attacker down with her. She tried to open her hand, but her feet were already in the air, Malik already coming down atop her.
“Thief!” he cried. “Harlot!”
They tumbled apart and crashed into the forest canopy, and the last thing Arietta saw before sinking into the leaves was Joelle’s stunned face, peering over the parapet after her.
CHAPTER 13
Kleef plunged into the forest canopy with his feet together and his arms held wide, snatching at branches and boughs as he dropped through the tangled darkness. He managed to grab hold of only twigs and leaves and began to realize just how reckless he had been to jump. But what choice had there been? He could not be sure that Arietta and Malik had survived their fall, and in the confusion of his dream, Kleef had revealed the Eye’s hiding place. If Malik was dead and Yder located the body before Kleef did, Malik’s robe would be lost.
Kleef’s boots came down squarely atop a limb. Then the limb bounced and his knees buckled. He toppled off backward and went tumbling down through the branches, falling from bough to bough almost gently, his descent gradually slowing until he felt almost under control. Finally, he landed face-down on the tip of a particularly long limb, which slowly dipped until it had deposited him feet first on the forest floor.
Once the branch had risen out of the way, Kleef found himself looking at the base of an enormous duskwood tree. Though he stood less than five paces away, the forest gloom was so thick that he could barely make out what he was seeing and thought his eyes must be deceiving him. With a heavy beard of moss and a pair of horizontal ridges that looked like lips, the trunk resembled the profile of an old man’s face-complete with a heavy brow ridge and crooked branch-stub that looked like a hooked nose.
Then something stirred above the branch-stub nose, and a pair of pale ovals appeared beneath the brow and swung in Kleef’s direction.
Eyes.
The eyes seemed to study him for a moment, then blinked and swung away, looking in the opposite direction.
Kleef was too stunned to react. He had heard of treants, of course. But in the tales sailors told, treants were not kindly beings who caught hapless men as they fell from the sky. They were huge walking trees who guarded their forests against loggers and farmers and all manner of fire users-and who always seemed to be attacking some poor ship’s crew as it tried to replace a broken mast.
An impatient rustle sounded from the far side of the treant. The pale ovals swung back in Kleef’s direction and lingered on him expectantly, then a low creaking noise came from within the moss beard. Kleef may not have been able to understand the word, but its meaning was clear.
Go.
Kleef drew Watcher from its scabbard and started in the direction the treant had indicated. After a moment, a wall of dappled light appeared through the trees, and he soon realized it was moonlight reflecting off the cliff beneath the citadel. Standing in a small clearing at the base of the cliff were two figures, both holding swords and facing each other. They were not fighting, but the shorter figure was waving his blade around angrily and complaining in a whiny, nasal voice.
Malik and Arietta-both alive.
Kleef was about to call out to them when he glimpsed silhouettes moving through the undergrowth around them. He feared for an instant the shapes were orcs or shades, but they had curled horns on the sides of their heads and a strange bouncing gait that seemed more beast than humanoid. Uncertain of quite what he was watching, Kleef dropped into a crouch and paused to study them-only to have the figures glance in his direction, then vanish as quickly as they had appeared.
When the agate on Watcher’s crossguard remained dark, Kleef decided that whatever the creatures were, they weren’t Shadovar. He started forward again and began to make out Malik’s complaints.
“… almost killed me,” the little man was whispering. “As it is, I can barely draw a breath.”
“It’s your own fault,” Arietta hissed back. “You’re the one who pushed me.”
Pushed?
Kleef felt his stomach clench. He could not imagine why Malik would want to push Arietta off a cliff, but there was no doubting what he had just overheard-not with the pair holding weapons and facing off. Kleef stepped into the clearing and pointed Watcher at Malik.
“Throw down your sword,” he ordered. “And stand away.”
Malik looked in Kleef’s direction, then his eyes bulged and he turned to flee. Giving the little man no time to use his ability to vanish, Kleef leaped after him.
“Kleef, wait,” Arietta whispered. “Don’t hurt-”
Kleef ignored the order and caught Malik by the wrist of his weapon hand. “Drop it, you worm.”
When Malik shifted the sword to his other hand, Kleef lifted him into the air and heard a joint pop.
“Last chance,” Kleef warned. He gave Malik a little shake. “Drop the sword.”
“Stop!” Malik’s voice was pained, but he continued to hold onto his sword. “You’ve broken my arm!”
Kleef doubted it was true, but the complaint was enough to make Arietta lay a hand on his arm.
“Stop,” she ordered. “We still need him in one piece.”
“A man can walk with a broken arm,” Kleef said. “Right, Malik?”
Malik squirmed in Kleef’s grasp, trying to swing his body around so he could bring his short sword to bear. Kleef brought Watcher’s blade around to guard himself-and heard a female voice call out from near the base of the cliff.
“Kleef, no!”
Kleef glanced over to find Joelle stepping out of the undergrowth, Arietta’s bow slung across her shoulders. She was still breathing hard from the long climb down the cliff, but that did not prevent her from rushing to protect Malik.
“You can’t kill him,” Joelle said. She took the sword from Malik’s hand. “You can’t even hurt him.”
Kleef frowned. Joelle was the one who had told him that Malik and Arietta had fallen into the forest, just before she slipped over the parapet to climb down the cliff face. But she had not said anything about Arietta being pushed-and she did not seem all that surprised to find Kleef ready to lop off an arm.
After a moment, Kleef said, “You knew.”
“That Malik pushed her?” Joelle hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. “I thought it was possible.”