The Eye of the Falcon by Michelle Paver Page B

he tied one end around his waist and the other around Pirra’s, leaving a couple of arm-spans’ slack between, so they could move independently.
    Pirra was shaking her head. “If we’re tied together and I fall, I’ll take you with me.”
    â€œNo you won’t, I’ll hang on somehow.”
    To prevent further protest, he grasped both hand ropes at shoulder height and stepped onto the footrope. All three were strung so taut that they barely sagged: thank the gods that these Keftians knew what they were doing.
    â€œKeep your eyes on me,” he said over his shoulder, “and don’t look down .”

    The bridge held firm, but swayed alarmingly in the wind gusting up from below, and behind him Pirra wobbled so badly that she nearly tipped them both upside down. Somehow, they managed to keep going, and the oaks on the other side drew nearer.
    Once, Hylas glanced around. Pirra’s face was set, and she was staring fixedly over his shoulder. He didn’t speak in case he put her off.
    They were a few paces from safety when shouts rang out behind, and an arrow hissed past Hylas’ ear. His mind reeled. High above the gorge, they were easy targets. Or maybe the Crows would cut the ropes and send them plummeting to their deaths.
    The same thought had occurred to Pirra; the rope around his waist jerked as she halted, and he fought to stay upright. “Keep moving!” he told her. “We’re nearly there!”
    â€œIt’s no use running, Hylas!” shouted a voice behind him.
    Now it was Hylas who lurched. That voice was Telamon’s.
    Over Pirra’s head, Hylas glimpsed his erstwhile friend at the edge of the gorge, nocking another arrow to his bow. Warriors ran up to support him. Hylas quickened his pace, hating the fact that Pirra was behind him and he could do nothing to shield her from their arrows.
    One struck an oak directly ahead; more bounced off the rocks. Hylas leaped for solid ground—staggered—then grabbed a branch of the oak and spun around to hold Pirra if she fell.
    She was nearly at the edge, but now on the far side, Hylas saw Telamon shoulder his bow and start across the bridge. Hylas whipped out his axe to cut the footrope—but Pirra was still on it. “ Hurry! ” he urged her.
    Her foot slipped. He pulled the rope taut about her waist as she fought to steady herself.
    The wind whipped Telamon’s long dark hair about his face, but still he came on. Then Kreon— Kreon, the tyrant of Thalakrea—moved right to the edge and drew back his bowstring to take aim at Pirra.
    Suddenly a dark bolt hurtled out of the clouds and swept past Kreon’s head. The Crow Chieftain faltered. So did Pirra. “ Echo, ” she cried. “You came back!”
    â€œPirra, come on! ” yelled Hylas.
    The next instant she staggered to safety—and Hylas brought down his axe on the footrope.
    The rawhide resisted, but Telamon lurched and nearly fell.
    â€œTelamon, turn back and get off the bridge!” warned Hylas. “I don’t want to kill you, but I will if you take another step!”
    Telamon took another step.
    Hylas hacked at the rope. Telamon’s face worked in fury, but he saw that Hylas meant it, and made his way back to solid ground. A heartbeat later, Hylas struck the rope and it snapped. With Crow arrows hissing and clattering around him, he used the oaks for cover and cut one of the hand ropes, then ran to help Pirra, who was sawing at the other with her knife.
    On the far side of the gorge, Telamon lifted his sword to the sky. “You can’t get away from me, Outsider!” he roared, his face twisted with rage. “I swear by the Angry Ones and by the dagger of Koronos that I will hunt you down, I will feed your carcass to the dogs!”
    For a moment they faced each other across the void. Then Hylas cut the last rope and sent it hurtling into the gorge.

17
    â€œW ait,” panted