Green Wild (Thrones of the Firstborn Book 2) Read Free

Shanasee, so she wasn’t entirely alone.
    Her head still spinning, Jerya started running after her scout birds. She moved so much faster when not dragging Shanasee, even in the dark. She turned toward the river at the next intersection, turned toward the river again, and stopped. The scent of fresh air wafted from the other turning. It was the wrong way, but there the scent was as vivid as the rising sun. She hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she turned back to the path with the fresh scent. Somewhere in the distance behind her, she heard keening.
    The tunnel with the fresh air zigged and zagged back and forth. Something squelched under her feet and the tunnel turned to reveal an ashen rainfall beyond corroded iron bars. Black mud sucked at her feet, and slid tendrils into the slime-covered stone circle that led from the tunnels under the city to the riverside. She could just see the Green Street Bridge, which told her the location: a small park she’d visited before. She’d noticed the old stone circle with the iron bars previously. She’d always thought it led into a sewer before, and wondered why anybody would bother to barricade a sewer. But now she knew.
    The bars were far too close together for her to squeeze through. She rattled them, and then shattered all but one of her emanations and eidolons, pulling all the power she could spare back into her core again. Setting her jaw, she gripped the bars with both her hands and her magic, and twisted.
    The effort exhausted her. It was far harder than sending small birds flying all over the city, or illuminating a dark room, or even supporting Shanasee through dark places. But if she couldn’t break the bars, she’d be giving up, and Jerya could barely comprehend the concept of giving up. The bars would bend and break before she would.
    The bars bent, and one bar broke. It was enough. She squeezed through, scraping herself on the broken bar. She heard the rumble of a crowd over the noise of the river. Beyond the tunnel overhang she saw the rest of the bridge. An unruly collection of city folk gathered, facing a single man with spectral lightning dancing between his fingers.
    Jerya had been worried and anxious before but actually seeing her uncle Yithiere on the verge of attacking their own people jolted terror down her spine. She leapt forward, heedless of the blood dripping down her arm, and shouted, “Uncle! I need you!”
    Yithiere whipped around. Her father’s younger brother was a tall, lean man with untrimmed hair and badly in need of a shave. He looked her over, and then turned back to the crowd. “Jerya. I’ll be with you as soon as I convince these people where their best interests are.”
    “Uncle,” Jerya said again, making a voice a lash. “Yithiere. I need you now. Attend to me.”
    Slowly he turned to her again, his cold gaze becoming questioning. “Jer?”
    “I will convince our people,” she told him, as calmly as she could. “You must go into the tunnel below us and fetch Shanasee. You must do this now , because she has spent all her strength saving these people and now she is sick.” She made sure her voice carried as she spoke.
    “Jer...” Yithiere said, and he made sure his voice didn’t. “They are dangerous.”
    “So are we all, uncle,” she told him. “Where are Iriss and Gisen?” He’d taken responsibility for moving her own comatose Regent and her youngest cousin to safety.
    He bowed his head. “Safe,” was all he said. He walked past her, off the bridge. She looked after him for a moment, wondering. If her uncle said somebody was safe, they were either safe, or they were dead.
    Then the mob drew her attention. No, not a mob. Just a crowd of unhappy people, driven from their homes by a nightmare. A man held a sobbing woman close. Another woman in a ragged dress clutched three children. Two young people her sister’s age clung to each other. She stared at them for a long moment. They stared back. Then, as their voices