Chapters (51)
- Dedication
- Contents
- PREVIOUSLY …
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- PART II
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- PART III
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART IV
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- About the Author
- ALSO BY DAVID WRAGG
- About the Publisher
The wagon bumped over the loose ground, re-joining the ancient road that led to the stump of the old bridge. Great plumes of dust rose in their wake, carried away by the furious wind. Realizing Lemon was not only serious but committed, Chel dropped to his knees, scrabbling with the ropes and cords. He looped one over himself, finding the kite handles, then threw a second loop over his driver.
The stump was growing in their vision, wider and longer than Chel had realized from far away; it sloped up and out over the gorge, before it suddenly broke off, leaving nothing beneath.
‘We tied?’
‘Yes!’
‘Then lift it high, because here we go!’
Chel could see nothing but the jutting spar of sand-coloured stone, and the blurred towering form of the city beyond it, impossibly distant. The wagon jumped and rocked as they mounted the stump, the panicked horse throwing sparks on the old stone. With a grunt, Chel braced his legs against the wagon-sides and hauled the kite upwards, lifting it into the oncoming rush. It reared in his grip, its upper tier ballooning taut, the wings lifting from his grasp. He felt the rope at his midriff snapping tight.
Lemon threw down the reins and scrambled to her feet, throwing her arms around Chel. ‘Hold on, wee bear,’ she said with a goggle-eyed grin. Chel worried that he saw madness in her gaze, but it seemed a little late to care.
The wagon crested the rise of the bridge and the horse saw the void ahead. It slammed down its hooves, scoring grooves in ancient stone, and tried to turn away. The wagon, propelled by vicious momentum, sailed on past, swinging then tipping as its wheels slid perpendicular to its motion. Straps snapped, and the wagon was free, skidding loose and slanting, travelling with impossible speed. Chel and Lemon swung and lurched with it, and then it fell away. The wagon pitched away beneath them into the void as the wind caught the kite full-on, and Lemon released the metal shield.
In a heartbeat, they were airborne again, sailing forward over the chasm toward the city, ropes cutting them like cheese-wire. The wind snarled and buffeted them, trying to drive them back, but their combined mass and momentum carried them onward even as the kite’s lift faltered. Chel gripped at whatever he could hold, his every muscle aflame, his shoulder a stab of red-hot ire. Lemon only laughed, cackling around his waist into the howling wind, crowing her defiance to the skies.