Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 550
"Bind her in chains of iron," he said. "But strike her
unconscious first."
"Sir."
He staggered into the antechamber, leaning heavily on
Megan. "Where did they go?" he hissed.
"Who?"
"The queen, and General Lavin."
"This way. Please, you must rest."
"No! There is a secret way out. He has taken her to it.
We must follow."
Thunder grumbled beyond the windows--but he knew
there were no clouds in the sky. "The siege is nearly over," he
said. "Maybe no one will survive. We have to hurry."
Jordan had ordered Ka to transfer its visual sensorium to
him. The little Wind was high over the walls now, fluttering
doggedly in the direction of the keep. Jordan held tightly to
Tamsin’s hand, trying to remember that he was really still
sitting on the sand, and not suspended impossibly high in the
air.
He could make out all kinds of fascinating details if he
looked closely--ladders being raised here, the whizzing thread
of steam-cannon missiles wavering in the air. Sounds drifted
up to him: hissing, shouts, sharp impacts, clash of steel. But to
look closely was to invite vertigo; he preferred to keep his eyes
fixed on the row of windows that was their goal.
He could hear Tamsin muttering above him. "I hope the
swans kill you all," she said. "Every last one of you." The
sound of her voice chilled him; it held rage and hate such as
he’d never heard before. He almost let go of her hand, but she
was his lifeline, and she still clutched his fingers tightly. Her
rage was not directed at him.