Wings of Flame (The Dragons of Ascavar Book 5)

by JD Monroe

  “Master Sidran said we’re joining General Enar up north,” Kamis said. “I don’t know after that. He just said to be ready to cook from our stores for a week or two. They brought a lot of supplies from Greenspire, so we should be set for a while.”

  “I heard we’re going to Ironhold,” Hanna said, punctuating it with a resounding clunk of the knife into the wooden table.

  Sohaila’s blood went cold. Her limbs felt detached as she stirred the pot slowly. “Really?”

  “That’s because you believe everything you hear,” Niza replied. “No one knows where we’re going.”

  “I do not,” Hanna protested, still chopping as she glared at Niza.

  A hand fell on her shoulder, and Sohaila jumped in surprise. She turned to see Firsa, eyes narrowed as her gaze swept over her. “What are you doing in here? I thought you were working.”

  Her tongue felt thick and clumsy. “Sister Ayla is monitoring the thelveran,” she murmured. “I volunteered to come and get dinner so we could finish the batch before leaving in the morning.”

  Firsa looked around the kitchen, then back at Sohaila. “Then get your meal and go.” Kamis glared at Firsa. She scowled and added, “Sister,” in a mock sweet tone. She grabbed two wooden bowls from a nearby shelf and held them out for Sohaila to ladle the broth into. Balancing them carefully, Sohaila took the bowls to Kamis, who added a generous serving of meat.

  “Thank you,” she said to Kamis. “You know, I just remembered that I have some of that ointment in my workshop. Come by after dinner for it.”

  “Go on,” Firsa snapped.

  “You don’t have to be rude to her,” Kamis said sternly.

  “And you don’t need two hands to cook,” Firsa snapped. He blanched. “Mind your business.”

  Sohaila nearly spilled the steaming bowls as she rushed out of the kitchen. As she walked past the open archway to the courtyard, the fiery tendrils of sunset crept across the harsh skies. It wouldn’t be long now.

  She kicked the door and said, “It’s Sohaila.”

  Ayla opened the door, eyes wide as she gestured for her to enter. She glanced down at the bowls and frowned. “Dinner?”

  “Don’t eat it,” Sohaila said. “I did it.”

  “Did you see Veraxa?”

  “I looked, but nothing,” she said. “I’ll go back out and try to dodge Adron and Firsa.”

  “Why don’t I go look?” Ayla asked. “It’ll look less suspicious than if you keep wandering the halls.”

  “What if you get caught?”

  Ayla tilted her head. “What if you get caught?”

  She sighed. “Be quick. Sunset is coming.”

  Though Kaldir took great pride in serving Queen Tarim in the relative safety of the palace, it was exhilarating to fly headlong into the chaotic uncertainty of battle. Dressed in leather armor and armed with wickedly sharp blades, Azeria perched on his back. Her warm energy enveloped him, as if he was perpetually submerged in warm flowing water. A thick leather strap was secured around his neck, but she was respectful of his pride and only pulled it if she was at risk of falling.

  In a triangular formation behind him were four more dyads of dragons with hybrid riders, his Scalebreakers. The Aesdar, the monstrous white dragons they hunted, had powerful magic that could utterly debilitate dragons. A hybrid rider could protect their partner through a powerful psychic connection, although it would push Azeria to her limits, if past battles were a precedent. A half mile behind them was General Iceborne’s larger contingent of the Broodguard, ready to fly in when the Aesdar had been dispatched.

  Cracked gray landscape blurred below them. This land had seen the worst of the Great War over a hundred years earlier. Kaldir’s mother, Viraszel, had been one of the legendary Arik’tazhan warriors who had etched her name into history in the final battles of that bloody war. He secretly hoped that this fight might give weight to his name, other than being the son of the Firestorm. She had ended one war, and perhaps he would end another.

  Two hours of hard flying brought the Silent Orchard into view. Orange torchlight flickered against the black of night, illuminating the smooth walls of the temple. Three dark-scaled dragons patrolled overhead. Below them, a courtyard stood still and empty, occupied only by large fabric-wrapped mounds.

  “Three ahead,” Azeria said quietly.

  Without making a sound, Kaldir stoked the flame in his chest, like drawing a bowstring. Tucking his limbs in tight, he barreled toward the closest of the dark-scaled dragons. The strap pulled against his throat as Azeria pressed herself tight to his spine.

  Kaldir released a thin, focused beam of flame at the dragon. Like a spear forged from pure fire, it pierced the creature’s side. The dragon screamed, shattering the silence. Shit, he’d missed its lungs.

  The other two split immediately. The dragon he’d struck fought to right itself, letting out wheezing cries of pain. One of the others dove for the courtyard screaming and roaring, while the third hurtled at Kaldir.

  They tangled in a volley of flame and claws. Sharp talons slashed at his face. He flipped in the air, prompting a shout of surprise from Azeria, who dug her sharp-spurred boots into his side and yanked on the leather strap to hold on. With a roar, Kaldir breathed fire up at the smaller dragon.

  Blood rained down on him as Azeria’s blade sliced into the dragon’s exposed belly. Kaldir darted around it, taking advantage of its distraction to dig his claws into its back. Tucking in his wings so he was nothing but dead weight, he bore them both to the ground with a shuddering impact. With its face pinned under his foot, Kaldir tore open the creature’s exposed throat and left it to bleed out.

  Chaos had erupted all around them. Dark-clad figures scurried out of the temple, weapons glinting in the moonlight. A flash of light burst through the darkness. The smell of death filled the air as the monstrous white form of one of the Aesdar materialized. It was changing much faster than he’d thought possible. A woman in blue stood in front of it, dark hair whipping around her face.

  “Get it while it’s vulnerable,” Azeria whispered. Kaldir left the dead sentry and barreled for the white dragon, but he pulled up short when three dark green dragons rose like a wall ahead of him. Their scales gleamed with an oily green sheen in the moonlight.

  With an earth-shaking roar, the white dragon rose from the ground in a whirlwind of dust. Its wings produced a powerful current that sent Kaldir staggering back.

  Mother, protect us, he thought as the creature’s eerie blue gaze fell on him. Its madness crawled over him, pressing behind his eyes and threatening to tear him open, but Azeria’s presence dampened it, rendering it unpleasant but tolerable. He sprang into the air, turning away from it and trying to gain height over its three protectors.

  Flying straight for him, the white dragon’s jaws opened wide. Energy crackled in its dark maw, like it was vomiting a thunderstorm at him. Kaldir beat his wings hard to rise up as the creature released a powerful orb of energy. It was eerily silent for a moment, then burst with a deafening whoomph. Crackling white energy burst through the air, clipping his tail as he tried to dodge. His body went numb, and his wings faltered.

  Sheer panic flooded him, threatening to drag him down into its chaotic depths. Azeria’s legs tightened around him. “I’m right here, serani,” she said. She slapped his neck, releasing a little burst of heat into him through their shared connection. “Stay with me.”

  He growled and shook off the fear, thankful for her as always. Feinting to one side, he snarled to draw the attention of the three protectors. One of them bellowed, releasing a greenish gout of flame. Green flame? He didn’t have the time to think about how strange that was.

  Below them, another flash of white light caught his eye. A second Aesdar was transforming. They had to stop this. The Scalebreakers could handle a few, but if Sidran had a temple full of them, they’d be overwhelmed.

  The Aesdar snapped at him, but he planted his back foot on its snout and propelled himself past the nasty maw.
He ran down the creature’s spine. One of the green-scaled protectors followed, dipping under one massive, pearlescent wing to join Kaldir on its back.

  Wicked claws tore at throats and bellies. Green fire billowed around his head. Kaldir released a messy, unfocused breath of flame at his enemy. As he drew another breath, his lungs filled with something caustic and sharp. Gagging on the foul air, he flattened himself against the Aesdar’s back. It was disconcerting as its spine curved and writhed beneath him.

  Azeria lunged upward, and the green dragon screamed. In his peripheral vision, he saw her blade dripping red. With the creature distracted, Kaldir latched onto its bleeding throat and tore it open, filling his jaws with the metallic taste of blood. His tongue burned with the foul taste of its corrupt blood. What was this creature? The other dragon wailed in despair, and he flung it off the Aesdar’s back to crumple on the unyielding stone.

  The white dragon had already flown several miles from the temple. Though it seemed ungainly and slow, those huge wings carried it quickly. Bracing his hind legs on its spine, Kaldir tore into its thin wing membrane, ripping through it like delicate silk. Its roar of pain nearly deafened him.

  As the Aesdar began to fall, Kaldir leaped off its back. It threw its head back, looking for him. The full force of its gaze slammed into him, and Azeria’s grasp faltered for a split second. The world swam around him, until all he saw was that triangle of light, bright blue eyes going supernova white, drawing him into a whirlwind of madness.

  His wings faltered. Powerful claws wrapped around him, prompting a scream from Azeria. Her sound of pain jolted him back into awareness, and he realized that the Aesdar had grabbed him. He bellowed blistering fire onto its scaled limb, and it flung him toward the ground.

  The momentum was too much, and he barely got his wings open to slow the impact before he crashed into the ground. His legs buckled beneath him, joints screaming with pain. Azeria’s head slammed into his neck, and she groaned as her sword clattered to the ground.

  The ground shook as the Aesdar fell behind him. One of his subordinates, Diora, landed on its face, razor-sharp claws tearing at the third eye high on its brow. A burst of blinding light emanated from its face as it screamed in pain. Diora fell back, and her rider, Marad, tumbled to the ground with a groan.

  Just above them, another green dragon dove at them. Green flame glowed in its toothy maw. Kaldir flew at it and tackled the dragon mid-dive. They tangled in a flurry of slashing claws. He got in a solid bite to its throat, but it twisted its slender body around him to rake claws through his wing. Searing pain flooded his senses.

  It twisted away from his grasp, landing hard and bellowing green flame at him. Oily, greenish smoke filled the air. Azeria coughed violently. Its green eyes glared at him, glowing like fire encased in emerald. His wing felt like it was melting, his blood boiling in his veins.

  Its gaze lifted for a moment, and Kaldir turned to look. Another of the white dragons was in the air, but it was strangely burdened, with large bundles hanging from all four claws. Humanoid shapes rose from its spine. Riders.

  The green dragon inhaled with a tiny snarl, giving him a split second to react. Kaldir flipped onto his side and threw Azeria off. He folded his good wing around her, pulling her tight to his body. The green dragon hurled a cloud of green flame at him. He instinctively pushed his own power outward to neutralize the flame, but it cut through anyway. Instead of burning and passing into harmless smoke, the green fire remained, clinging to his scales, burning his eyes, and filling his lungs with toxic fumes.

  Beneath the protective shell of his wing, Azeria pounded against his side. “Let me out, shak-ersath!” she screamed. But he kept his wing tight to his body, trapping her there. In her small human form, the blistering heat would kill her.

  The green dragon limped toward him. There was something in its talons, something amiss in its breath. His heart slammed against his massive ribs. His pulse pounded in his skull.

  Something was very wrong.

  As the green dragon roared, Kaldir focused a thin beam of flame into one of its brilliant green eyes like an arrow. After the flame left him, he couldn’t draw another breath. His lungs simply didn’t work.

  With a clipped cry, the green dragon fell back. Its legs buckled as it screamed and tossed its head. Its right eye was a blackened socket. A shadow passed over him, and a familiar red form slammed onto the creature’s back, ripping and tearing.

  Good. He just had to catch his breath and go after the white dragon. Couldn’t let Sidran escape. Just had to breathe. His chest ached with his need for air.

  How did breathing work again?

  His legs buckled. The ground rushed up to meet him. As fire burned through his veins, he was vaguely aware of hands beating against his chest, and a distant voice calling an unfamiliar name.

  “Sister, I should go help,” Enzar said in a thick, sleepy voice. For the third time, he lumbered toward the shuttered window.

  Sohaila intercepted him and gently pushed him back toward his chair. “Master Sidran was very clear,” she said. “He wanted you and Lazka to stay safe here. You must follow his instructions.”

  Enzar shook his head as if it would clear the fog. Her workshop was strewn with unconscious bodies, the air thick with the sweet smell of afarakh. Luckily, the tea was infused with her own magic and wouldn’t affect her.

  Another thunderous roar shook the temple. Outside, growls and roars rang out in a terrible chorus. Then there was the visceral impact of two dragons slamming into each other, followed by guttural snarls. Her heart raced as she tried to imagine the chaos outside.

  As requested, Kamis had stopped by the workshop along with Niza, who was seeking help for her dry, cracked hands. She’d ushered them both in, still watching down the hall for her sisters. While she was waiting, Enzar and Lazka walked by. She’d grabbed them both, telling them Sidran wanted her to check their condition before bed. Both trusted her, and she’d poured a hearty cup of tea for all her guests. They’d been confused, but too polite to refuse. Now Kamis and Niza lay snoring quietly on the floor, while Lazka was sprawled in a chair. But Enzar was a big man and hadn’t drunk enough to put him entirely to sleep.

  Not long after, the attack began. Shouts echoed through the halls of the temple, while thunder rumbled across the skies outside. The building shook with the soul-rending roar of the Aesdar. At that, she’d looked one last time for Ayla and Veraxa, then shut the door, praying fervently that they’d found somewhere safe to hide.

  Enzar frowned again and stood. “Sister, I insist. I must serve Vystus.” His blue eyes locked on hers. His compulsion settled in, like a weight on her chest. “Please move.”

  Instinctively, she pressed her hand to her chest to cover her amulet. He lunged at her, shoving her against the door. “I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing the amulet’s chain. “I don’t want to hurt you. Please let me out.”

  “I tried to be nice,” she said. Grabbing his broad shoulders, she kneed him in the groin, then followed it with a hard punch to his jaw. As he groaned in pain, she spun away from him and grabbed a vial of the dreamsleep concentrate. With it clutched tight in her fist, she pounced on Enzar from behind, wrapping her legs around his waist. She fumbled at his lips, but he clamped them tight.

  He growled, the sound muffled against her hand. Then he spun around and slammed back into the stone wall, driving the air out of her lungs. Her head smacked into the wall, but she held firm and pinched his nose shut. “Open up!”

  He pulled away from the wall, then drove himself back again. Sickening pain clamped down on her chest like a vise. That might have broken something.

  “I was trying not to be mean,” Sohaila wheezed. She yanked off her veil and bit Enzar’s exposed neck, hard enough to draw blood. When he opened his mouth to shout in pain, she dumped the dreamsleep into his mouth. He tried to spit, but she slammed his jaw shut and wrapped both arms around his head.

  “Mmhmm,” he protested. He shoved back into the wa
ll again, but there wasn’t as much strength behind it.

  “Sorry, an-kadi,” she said. “This stuff is strong. You don’t have to swallow it for it to work.”

  Still struggling weakly, his knees buckled. He hit the ground like a sack of grain, head lolling back. His body fell on her, pinning her to the floor. It hurt to breathe, but at least she was capable. And with a full vial of concentrated dreamsleep in his system, Enzar would be out for days.

  She crawled toward the door, ready to peek outside for Ayla or Veraxa. Adrenaline surged through her body. The door opened before she touched it. She scrambled away, looking frantically for something sharp.

  A blade glinted in the darkness beyond the open door. A young woman in leather armor stepped into the light and raised her hands defensively. Her dark brown eyes swept over Sohaila. “Sister,” she murmured, bowing deeply. “We came from the Shrine of Mara. Are you safe?” There was no hint of red in her clothing.

  Sohaila let out a heavy sigh. “I am,” she said. “Is it over?’

  “Mostly,” she said. “I have orders to make sure you’re safe.”

  “I’m safe,” she said. “Did you find the other Marashti?”

  “We found one hiding in a closet,” the woman said. “A blonde woman.”

  Blonde…that was Veraxa. Her stomach flip-flopped. Where was Ayla? “Please tell your men there’s a third here somewhere.” Wincing at the ache in her ribs, she stepped over Enzar and grabbed her healing kit. “Am I needed?”

  “Uh…yes,” she said, nodding eagerly. “If you’re able, that would be helpful.”

  “I’m able,” she said. “Get me where I’m needed.”

  The halls of the Silent Orchard were filled with smoke and ash. Quiet groans echoed off the walls. Several bodies in red uniforms lay unmoving, blood pooling around them. As they walked down the hall, several of the doors stood open to the soldiers’ quarters. Their occupants were still in bed, sleeping heavily.