Page 41 - Fourth Wing

I need to get as far as possible before the next gust of wind.

I look back over my shoulder to see where Jack is, and my blood chills to
ice.

He’s turned his back on me and is facing the next candidate, who wobbles

dangerously as he approaches. Jack grabs the gangly boy by the straps of
his overpacked rucksack, and I watch, shock locking my muscles, as Jack

throws the scrawny candidate from the parapet like a sack of grain.

A scream reaches my ears for an instant before fading as he falls out of
sight.

Holy shit.

“You’re next, Sorrengail!” Jack bellows, and I jerk my gaze from the
ravine to see him pointing at me, a sinister smile curving his mouth. Then

he comes for me, his strides eating up the distance between us with
horrifying speed.

Move. Now.

“Tyrrendor encompasses the southwest of the Continent,” I recite, my
steps even but panicked on the slick, narrow path, my left foot slipping a

little at the beginning of each step. “Made up of hostile, mountainous
terrain and bordered by the Emerald Sea to the west and the Arctile Ocean

to the south, Tyrrendor is nearly impenetrable. Though separated

geographically by the Cliffs of Dralor, a natural protective barrier—”
Another gust slams into me, and my foot slips off the parapet. My heart

lurches. The parapet rushes up to meet me as I stumble and fall. My knee

slams into the stone, and I yelp at the sharp bite of pain. My hands scramble
for purchase as my left leg dangles off the edge of this bridge from hell,

Jack not far behind now. Then I make the gut-twisting error of looking

down.
Water runs off my nose and chin, splattering against the stone before

falling to join the river gushing through the valley more than two hundred
feet below. I swallow the growing knot in my throat and blink, fighting to