Page 68 of Starside

His yell of agony echoes through the tree. His fingers slip—

I grip them harder. I lean back, kick the creature off him and clench my jaw as I pull and pull. He’s too heavy. Especially with his weapon.

“You—you have to let it go,” I say, straining, one hand on my blade, keeping us on the tree, the other clutching his.

He knows what I mean. He shakes his head. “I—I can’t.”

“I don’t—I don’t want to have to let you go,” I say, my voice a ragged whisper.

I will let you go are the words I won’t say. But he knows. He knows.

We made a pact.

Zane’s eyes harden. I hope he isn’t going to try to use his ax to stay on, when doing so could crumble the entire step below my feet. He reaches behind him … and drops it. It falls, then crashes. But not far. We both hear it bury itself in one of the branches below.

It’s not lost. Not completely. Though climbing down would be its own death sentence.

I pull him up without the added weight, then collapse against the steps, gasping. The creatures shriek. They’re still rising from the branches, right at us.

Zane turns. “My ax—”

“Come on,” I say, urging him forward.

He follows. Mercifully, he follows. We run up each step, panting, until finally the creatures give up their chase. We don’t stop. Not until the branches thin—and the sun is searing my scalp as we surface.

The top. We made it. The crown of the tree is as steady as the ground, thick leaves and branches solid below our boots. I take a tentative few steps.

A shriek peels through the air, loud as thunder. I look up and my jaw goes slack.

The ring of creatures is a mesmerizing band of color as the animals bleed together, following a single path. Dragons. Most of the creatures are dragons, of all different shades. Some are iridescent, their scales gleaming beneath the sun. Others are spiked. Some have wings that look like shards of stained glass. Their sizes range from large as a hill to small as a cart.

Some of the creatures aren’t dragons at all. Some are massive beaked birds.

“Helmhawks,” Zane whispers, sinking to his knees. “This—this is where they went.” His eyes glisten. “A century years ago … during the Questral. That’s when they left. I should have known …”

I put my hand on his shoulder. We did it. We made it here.

But we’re not alone.

A group of challengers waits by the edge of the treetop, at the fringe of its greenery. I instinctively reach for my sword—but Cadoc and his friends are not among them.

Did they get creatures? Did they fall? I didn’t look at the rest of the bodies while we climbed.

Slowly, we approach the edge, keeping a healthy distance from the others.

“Make the leap,” one of the challengers says. She’s tall, with dark skin, wearing a baldric filled with daggers of various high metals. She’s speaking to a tan man with brown hair, who has a silver sword strapped to his spine. “I believe in you.”

Their foreheads press together, and they stare into each other’s eyes, speaking in a wordless language that I imagine was learned over a thousand scattered moments. Finally, he nods. Straightens.

Without a single look back, he jumps off the side of the treetop.

I race to the edge to watch what happens. The other challengers barely spare me a glance. The man falls, falls—

Shit.

My heart is in my throat as the woman at my side sinks to her knees. Her lips part in a strangled cry. Her hands grip the thick leaves below us.

But then a winged creature swoops down from the ring high above, fast as lightning—and catches him. The woman jumps to her feet. Tears of joy slide down her face.