Reap the Wild Wind Read Online Free PDF

clung to the swaying ladder, unable to climb up or down. She could smell burning. Wings and wastryl, caught by fire, being swept clear by the wind.

It was over.

“What have I done?” Aryl whispered. “What have I done?” But she knew.

Bern was on the bridge. Safe, if terrified.

The rest of the harvesters, the cream of the Yena Om’ray, were gone. Aryl had felt them fall through the canopy, the lucky ones impaled on branches, the rest plunging into the black waters of the Lay. She’d felt those who’d survived that impact, their minds afire with pain that was extinguished as they were eaten alive.

Oh, she’d saved Bern.

Aryl pressed her face against the braided rope of the ladder. She closed her eyes. She shut down every other sense, withdrawing deeper and deeper, wanting away until she found herself in a darkness that surged and flowed with the violence of the M’hir itself. A perfect place.

A place where she couldn’t feel Costa die, too.

    Interlude

     
    T HE SHOP’S BIN SAT EMPTY within the latest pile of metal shards. As usual, the Oud who delivered the leavings during the night had missed the bin— or the point of the bin. Enris Mendolar had yet to hear anyone sure on the question.

That the Oud brought the metal was more important.

Out of habit, Enris picked up a loose, green-tinged shard from the packed earth near his feet and tossed it on the pile. A dozen iglies scattered from their hiding places with bright flashes of alarm, jointed legs working almost as fast as their jaws as they scampered for deeper shadows. Once safe, the tiny creatures made wet smacking sounds, a bravado sure to impress other iglies, if not beings inclined to squash them flat.

Enris dipped his cart forward on its front wheels and shoved it into the tallest part of the pile as hard as he could. Pieces sharp enough to cut flesh spilled over, striking his well-wrapped legs and booted feet, but the cart was full. Load number one of the day.

He tugged the cart free and turned it, heading home again. He took it slow. The path, though smooth, rose in steep twists. Ordinary Oud only came this close to the surface; Om’ray would only go this far from it. His steps were sure and steady, his breaths deeper with effort but unlabored. He was strong for his age, with a last spurt of growth that left him larger than most Chosen in Clan Tuana. His hands were callused and hard, his shoulders already bent from cart and shovel. Though Council agreed with his family’s pride in his skills, Enris privately believed he was most useful here, pushing the cart, collecting the wonderful metal of the Oud.

Maybe one of his younger cousins would grow.

The glowstrip along this section dimmed and then brightened. They’d need to power it up, Enris noted absently. Not that he couldn’t find his way in the dark. Anyone could. Up was toward that warm presence, the rest of his kind. Down was away from it, and dangerous. The Oud didn’t care for company. They begrudged making room over their lands for those on Passage.

The Om’ray didn’t care for the Oud. Made it even.

“Enris!” The call echoed down the tunnel, followed by the rapid thud of boots.

Startled, he sent without thinking. What’s wrong? He quickly silenced his inner voice. Not down here, this close to the Oud. Never this close. “Ral?”

His fifth youngest cousin burst around the turn ahead, catching himself before he stumbled into the cart and its sharp contents. “Enris! There you are. The most amazing thing’s happened!”

Loath to waste momentum, Enris didn’t slow his steps. “What is it this time?” The other Om’ray could enthuse over a rainbow.

Ral dodged and kept pace with him. “Naryn. She’s done it. In front of Council and the Adepts and everyone. Except you,” he added. “I had to come and tell you!”

Bowing his head, Enris leaned into the cart. The next turn led to the final, steepest section.

Ral trotted along. He didn’t offer to help. The last