The Elves of Cintra (Book 2 of The Genesis of Shannara)

Or was there? She raced to the side of the building that fronted the alleyway and looked down. A fire escape ladder was attached to the concrete by heavy bolts, an arrow metal ribbon almost invisible in the gloom.

She stared at it a moment, then glanced out at the water where the lights from the invading boats were drawing closer. The drums continued to sound, beating out a steady rhythm, announcing what lay ahead to those in the threatened city.

Already the gates of the compound had swung open and squads of defenders were making their way down to the docks. A battle would be fought there soon. When that happened, the Ghosts would be well advised to be far away.

She brushed at her thatch of straw-colored hair and took a deep breath. She hated heights, but anything was preferable to an encounter with Croaks. She looped the prod’s carry strap over her shoulder and across her back, stepped up onto the narrow, flat surface of the building cap, grasped the curved railing where it arched up from below, and started climbing down backward.

She wanted to close her eyes, but she settled for keeping her gaze fixed on the wall and her attention focused on finding secure footing upon each rung as she descended. Her efforts were made easier by the deepness of the night, which the narrow canyon of the alleyway made almost complete. Even the torchlight from the compound and the water didn’t penetrate here. She steadied herself by thinking of her warrior mother, of how she had orchestrated escapes of this sort so many times when Sparrow was little. Her mother had told her about some of them, and Sparrow had been present at a few near the end. She had marveled at her mother’s calmness in the face of such excruciating pressure. It had taught her something about the necessity of composure, of knowing that the worst danger you faced would often be your own uncertainty.

She kept that foremost in her thoughts as she made her way down the side of the building, a fly against the wall in the gloom, trying not to think about how it would feel to fall.

The descent went much more quickly than she had expected, and her feet touched the ground before she realized it was there. She stepped away from the ladder, unslung the prod, and looked around guardedly. She could not see or hear anything. The alley was empty. Moving quickly down its length, she gained the street and peered out into the night. She was at the side of the building now, the street running down from Pioneer Square to the waterfront.

Everywhere, the shadows seemed to move in response to the fires and the drums.

A quick glance up at the roof revealed nothing.

She started up the street for the square, intent on going after the other Ghosts and warning them of the danger. She wasn’t sure what they could do about it until the Knight of the Word returned with Hawk, but at least they would be prepared for what she knew was coming. She swore in her best thirteen-year-old street language at the Croaks that had forced her to climb down that ladder, furious at the delay. What were Croaks doing in her building anyway? They knew the rules. They had never entered before, never even dared.

They must have seen the Ghosts leaving, must have realized that they were abandoning the building. It was a desirable dwelling, easily defended and safe.

They just decided to move in once it appeared that the Ghosts had moved out.

But they could have waited a day or two, couldn’t they? She reached the head of the street where it intersected the square, moving cautiously, eyes sweeping the darkness, knowing that if there were Croaks inside the building there were probably Croaks outside, as well. But the square seemed deserted, and so she started to turn north up First in the direction the others had gone when she heard her name called.

“Sparrow! Wait up!”

She wheeled around at the sound of Panther’s voice, watching as he came up the empty street at a trot, dodging among the piles of debris, his prod cradled in the crook of his arm, his breathing audible even from where she stood. He must have run all the way from the compound. Something must have happened for him to come back like this. Something bad.

She started to ask what it was, and then saw the dark forms shambling along behind him, still a way back, but clearly in pursuit. More Croaks.

“Frickin’ Croaks!” he spit out angrily. “Chased me all the way from the edge of—”

She hissed at him in warning. “Keep it down, Panther Puss!

There are more inside!”

Too late. Heavy bodies appeared from the doorway of their building, eyes turning their way. Ragged forms with gimlet eyes, fingernails long since grown to claws, and teeth sharpened like those of wild animals.

Sparrow shoved Panther in frustration. “Now you’ve done it, big mouth. Get moving!”

They hurried across the square, Croaks at both ends of the street and closing. The fires and the drums didn’t seem to have any effect on them. They had their own concerns to occupy their attention, and Sparrow knew that most of those concerns revolved around food.