Page 147 of Faeling
He wrestled with five, six, seven, many fae. They held him down as the second manacle was clasped round his wrist.
Nausea rolled over him, the enchanted metal sucking at his strength. He bared his tusks, refusing to be beaten, but his chest could hardly draw breath under the weight of all the fae.
“To the ships. Bring him!” commanded the Fae Queen.
His vision swam as he was dragged through the sand.
He knew he should be concerned, but his mind couldn’t quite manage it through the haze.
She’s safe. That’s all that matters.
With the last of his strength, he cried one last time, “FALL BACK!”
35
“NO! No, turn back, we have to goback!Vallek!”
Ravenna threw herself against the carved stempost of the boat, meaning to jump into the churning shallow waters. A big hand caught the back of her cuirass, pulling her down into the footwell in front of the first oarsman seat. She landed hard on her backside but was up again in a moment, pulling herself upright by the hull rail. She would have thrown herself overboard had the hand not pulled her back again.
Asta’s heavy booted foot landed on Ravenna’s chest to keep her there.
“Stay down,” the orcess growled at her. Bloodied and sweaty, her strong arms flexed as she kept time with the other rowers, her face set grimly.
“We have to go back!” Ravenna cried. Wriggling under Asta’s foot, she clawed and fought to get free, desperate to go back. To help him. “We can’t leave him! We can’t—we can’t—can’t—”
She just managed to peek over the hull rail. Across thenarrow mouth of the strait, the sails of Amaranthe’s ships caught the breeze, the fae fleet fleeing quickly northward toward Fallorian. At least six orcish ships—sleek longships that cut through the water—were in pursuit. Their ships chased Amaranthe like some pod of marine predators, but that wasn’t enough—Ravenna needed to be with them, to chase the hag down herself. She had to get her mate, she had to fix this.
“Asta—!”
“No.” The orcess snarled at her, something she’d never done before. Tusks bared in a grimace of pain, she said, “I promised him. Don’t make this any harder.”
She didn’t think it possible, but Ravenna’s heart ached even fiercer at the sight of Asta’s pain.
Tears streamed down Ravenna’s face, although she was too numb and frantic to sob. She refused to stay put, to let herself be carried to safety when her mate was in enemy hands. Because of her.
Searching wildly for any way out, any way to get Asta to turn the boat around, her gaze fell on Leita.
Curled up in the next footwell over, she stared out at Ravenna from the depths of her hood. Those dark eyes, so like Amaranthe’s, gazed upon her with pity.
Ravenna looked away, unable to bear it.
No matter what she did or said, Asta wouldn’t heed it. Before long, the scrape of the boat running aground on the sandy southern shore of the strait jarred them all. Asta and the handful of other orcs in their boat jumped off; the others pulled the boat further ashore while Asta grabbed both Ravenna and Leita.
Leita came quietly—Ravenna fought.
“Let me go—Asta—I have to—please—!”
But the orcess was merciless, marching them up the slope to the grassy hills overlooking the water where they’d made their camp the day before.
Upon the rise, Ravenna dug in her heels, desperate to see what was happening.
Others stopped along the rise, too, hands shading brows to watch. Unhappy murmurs followed as they watched the orcish boats gain on the fae ships. Suddenly, a great wave caught the orcish vessels, scattering them. Most slid backwards across the water and were able to hold their balance—but two began to teeter dangerously.
A groan of distress went up from the berserkers as they watched two ships capsize. A handful of warriors rushed back to the ships, meaning to go aid their comrades.
Ravenna tried to go with them but was held back by Asta.
“I have to help him!” she wailed. “It’s my fault, Asta, it’s all my fault!”
