The claws twisted, reaching for him. Gyre extended his sword, a single neat thrust that took the ghoul through the heart. Naumoriel clawed at the blade for a moment, spitting defiance, then sagged. The war-construct shuddered to a halt, claws open and extended a half meter from Gyre’s back.

Gyre slipped under them and jumped to the deck, stumbling slightly on the unexpected slope. He let the shadow-world fade with a click and checked the energy bottle at his side. It still had a healthy glow—not much fighting time, but enough to keep him moving for a while. Sheathing his sword, he ran to where Kit lay against the spur. She’d slid sideways when Leviathan shifted, smearing blood in her wake.

“Kit,” Gyre said, kneeling beside her. “Kit!”

Her eyes fluttered open. “If you’re not going to kill me, can’t you let me die in peace?”

“I have an idea,” Gyre said.

“There’s no more ideas, Gyre.” Kit closed her eyes again, and her voice grew fainter. “No more plans. No more chances. I’ve been gambling with my life ever since that old man sat down across from me. I finally lost, is all.” She shuddered and coughed, spraying blood. “I just wish I’d worried a little less about my heart.”

“Kit …”

“Hold my hand,” Kit said, very quietly. “Please? It won’t be long.”

Gyre took her hand, squeezed it tight, then let go. He knelt, slipping both arms under her, and lifted her off the deck. Blood squished, and something wet and sticky slid from Kit’s midsection and hit the ground with a plop.

“That fucking hurts,” Kit whimpered. “What … are you doing, you … utter … fucking …”

Her eyes rolled back, and her head lolled against his shoulder. Gyre staggered forward, toward the folded-open spur and its arcana-encrusted chair.

“Gambling,” he told her under his breath.

Epilogue

Maya

“I can ride,” Maya protested. “As long as we go gently.”

“We’re going down a mountain,” Beq said. “What part of that is gentle?”

“It might be better than this … thing,” Tanax said, indicating the travois he was fashioning out of the poles and canvas from one of their tents. “It’s going to be bumpy.”

“Not too bumpy, I hope,” Maya said, looking down at Jaedia’s limp body. “I don’t want to have to explain to her why she woke up with two broken arms.”

“She’ll be all right,” Beq said, taking Maya by the hand.