by JD Monroe
Blinding white light flooded his vision.
He was falling.
A stern female voice echoed in his head. I’ve got your back. Kill this fucking thing. Something jolted his spine, breaking through the stifling sensation.
Fumbling to get his wings moving, he surged up again. As his vision cleared, he landed on its head. It bucked under him, but he dug sharp talons into its neck. Then its body plunged toward the earth. Thaleza was on its back, slicing through one leathery wing. The slashed membranes flapped like shredded sails, spraying a fine mist of blood.
“Get lower!” Azeria ordered. He flattened himself, still clinging to its head as he fell. She leaned to one side, and he heard the horrifying squelch of a blade piercing its eye. It screamed, like a thousand voices crying out at once. It tilted its head back as it fell, struggling to fly with ruined wings.
Kaldir launched himself free, but his foot was caught between scales, pinched in the joint of its neck. He growled and tried to yank free. As the hard stone rushed up to meet them, he braced himself for impact. Suddenly, the weight on his back was gone, and he flew into a panic, looking frantically for her.
“Az—”
He slammed into the ground. The air rushed from his lungs, pain lancing through his joints. As the Aesdar’s head lolled to the side, he finally freed his foot. The white dragon writhed on the ground, crying out in wordless sounds. He staggered free, searching for Azeria.
“Up here,” she groaned.
With a snarl, he looked up to see Azeria’s boots kicking a few feet above him. He frowned in confusion, then caught the motion of Thaleza’s wings above her. The gray dragon clutched Azeria in her back talons, slowly lowering her to the ground.
Kaldir rumbled quietly at Thaleza, who growled in response and flew away, headed for the city. Unfazed by their fall from the sky, Azeria climbed onto his back again. With aching joints, he took off again, ready for the next battle. Dragons wheeled in the skies over the Shattered Cradle, but there were no more Aesdar.
Was it really so easy?
“We can’t let them have all the fun,” Azeria said. She kicked his side like he was a simple-minded horse. He growled, shaking himself just enough to jostle her. She laughed. “Come on. Let’s pick another fight, shall we?”
The attack in the ravine was bad enough. Sohaila had been forced to watch Kaldir and the others fight while she hid, frozen in silent horror as Azeria inhaled burning poison and Romek fell from the sky. She couldn’t prevent any of it, could only clean up the mess.
But at least she’d known what was happening, and could start planning how to help. It was far worse knowing the battle raged miles away, where she couldn’t get her hands on someone right away.
While the Kadirai and their hybrid riders ate dinner and made their final preparations for battle, Sohaila and Citra had converted the dusty mess hall into an infirmary. Laying out clean linens, they’d turned the rickety tables into makeshift beds, with neat stacks of bandages and small jars of medicines placed at arm’s reach. The work kept them occupied, but she could only pace the room so many times, mentally rehearsing what would happen.
After the soldiers left, Citra kept watch in the courtyard with Virnan and Enalah. Sohaila sat on one of her makeshift beds, eyes closed and hands clasped. Trying to keep her mind from wandering to dark, dangerous places, she mumbled her way through a dozen rote prayers before lapsing into a casual, quiet conversation into the silence.
“Blessed Skymother, please let me—let us be enough to keep them safe,” she said. When she was imprisoned, she had often prayed aloud to keep her mind occupied, not caring if Sidran or his people heard her conversation with her unseen goddess. “I’ve done everything I can do to be ready. Let them find Ayla safely. Let all of them come back to me. It would be great if they didn’t even need our help.” She chuckled. “But if they do, help me know what to do. Help me mend whatever is broken.” She peeked through one eye to see if anyone was in the room. She was still alone. “And I know I shouldn’t ask this, but please keep Kaldir close. Don’t let him stray from your sight.” Guilt panged through her. It wasn’t fair to prioritize him over anyone else, even if she meant every word. “Protect Azeria. She fights boldly even though she’s already lost the people she loved. Protect Velati, who carries more weight than he should. Protect Marlena, and make sure she doesn’t have to make the sacrifice that will scar all of us.” She continued, picturing each of the fighters who had left her sight. That morning, she’d requested a list of names from Velati. She had committed them all to memory so that she could hold them in her prayers, lifting them up to the Skymother.
She was running through her list for the fifth time, now just murmuring their names quietly when feet scuffed at the door. Enalah burst into the room. “Sister!” Sohaila lurched to her feet, heart racing. “The first ones are landing,” Enalah said breathlessly. Her long hair streamed behind her as she sprinted down the hall. Sohaila dashed after her to the courtyard.
This was either a very good sign or a very bad one. The silent stillness of the dark land around them was a marked contrast to the apprehension bubbling inside her. Descending slowly were two lone Kadirai, some of the Broodguard that had joined the Scalebreakers for this mission. She recognized Nina’s golden scales, though she didn’t recognize the black dragon coming in behind her.
Nina landed with a snarl. Blood splattered onto the stone below her. Sohaila ran toward her and found a thick metal bolt protruding from her chest. Angry black lines radiated from the wound. “I’m going to pull this out,” Sohaila said. “Virnan!”
“What do you need?” he asked.
“Balirash and a long bandage,” she said. Without looking back, she braced her hand on Nina’s chest. “I’m going to pull it, but don’t shift back yet.”
Nina growled.
Virnan held out the open jar for her. Over the last week, she’d been training him and Enalah to help her. At Irazia’s suggestion, they’d painstakingly divided up a dozen potions and ointments into jars, all clearly labeled in her neat handwriting.
“Here we go,” Sohaila said. She grabbed the heavy bolt and pulled hard. Nina reared back, nearly pulling her off her feet. As Sohaila lurched forward, she shouted, “Virnan!” The man grabbed the bolt with one hand, and together they yanked it out of the golden dragon’s chest. Nina roared, billowing hot air around Sohaila’s face. “Oh, hush,” she snapped. She scooped a handful of balirash from the jar and smeared the gritty paste into the open wound on Nina’s chest. “I know it hurts. Keep growling if it makes you feel better. Just remember I didn’t stick you.” She glanced over her shoulder to see Enalah helping Citra move Sihdin, one of the Broodguard, into the building. “You can shift back when you’re ready.”
Three more dragons were spiraling in for a landing. One carried a body, a limp arm dangling from his grasp with blood dripping from the fingertips. Her heart thumped. She couldn’t see the face, but the body was male. She tore her gaze away and beckoned to Virnan. “Make sure she shifts back safely.” She held up the bandage, then gestured broadly over her chest. “Pack one piece hard against the wound, then wrap it tight. Have her lay down inside, feet up.” He nodded, and she headed for the landing dragons.
Two of the dragons shifted back without issue, though their bodies were marked with cuts and scratches. But the third dragon, scaled in bronze, gently laid the still body down on the stone and let out a mournful cry.
With her heart pounding, she knelt by the body. His naked form was battered, his chest nearly crushed. His throat was slashed, caked with thick crimson. It was Narik, one of the Broodguard. If he had come back like this, he was probably already lost, but she would still try.
Instead of the tingle of life, she found only the quiet of death in Narik. She looked up and shook her head. “There’s nothing I can do,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. Please cover him. When everyone is safe, we’ll give him the proper rites.”
She rested one hand on his cheek, try
ing to remember his face the way it had looked as he stared up at her. Her kiss hadn’t been enough to protect him through this. Closing her eyes, she offered a silent prayer. Bring him home to your halls. See his bravery and honor him with your song.
The bronze dragon who’d carried him back shifted back. Shoving her disheveled blonde curls out of her face, Faera knelt by his side. Pale yellow eyes welled over with tears. “I’m so sorry, serani,” she murmured to him.
“What happened out there? How did it go?” Sohaila asked.
“I don’t really know,” Faera said, her voice shaking. “We hit the city hard, and one of the Aesdar came. Kaldir and the others took it away from the city and killed it. We were attacking like we planned, and then Marlena sounded a retreat.”
“Where are they now?” Sohaila said. “Marlena and the others.” And Kaldir.
“I’m not sure,” Faera said. “We had orders. On the retreat, we fall back.” She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes. “Can I help you, sister? I need to do something with my hands or I’m going to go crazy. I tried so hard to get him back here in time, but I…I felt him go limp and I couldn’t fly any faster and—”
Sohaila grasped her trembling hands. “Look at me,” she said. The other woman reluctantly raised her head. “You did what you could to bring him back. I know that must have been terrible, but it wasn’t your fault.” She nodded, but her brow was still furrowed. “Stay with me if you’d like.”
A few minutes later, four more returned. Thaleza and her rider Rhiza landed safely, clearing out of the way quickly to make room. Just behind them, Arin slammed to the ground on his back feet. He carried his rider, Brika, in his arms. He roared, “Help!” The slender woman was convulsing violently. Arin’s face was streaked with claw marks, and the black scales along his jaw were bubbling and melting.
“Carry her inside,” Sohaila said to Faera. The woman scooped Brika into her arms. “Lay her flat.” Sohaila touched her own chin and tilted her head back to demonstrate. “Keep her throat open. Hold her down if you have to.” Sohaila beckoned to Citra. “I’m taking this one inside. Are you okay?”
“Go,” Citra said breathlessly as she approached Arin. Gold light glowed around her hands as she examined the burning slashes on his face.
Sohaila stole one last glance at the sky. No sign of Kaldir yet. But no one had reported that he had fallen. Her stomach twisted with dread as she hurried inside, hot on Faera’s heels. As ordered, the Kadirai woman held Brika’s head back. The hybrid woman arched up painfully, her muscles seizing. “What’s wrong with her?” Faera asked.
“Poison,” Sohaila said. “Sidran’s bodyguards, the Talons.” She surveyed the neatly arrayed table and grabbed the antidote she’d prepared. Leaning over Brika, she unceremoniously tore open the woman’s clothing to expose her chest, which was blistered and red from the fire. “The Skymother is with us,” she said in a soothing voice. “She breathes for you and holds you in her hand.” She sent her power deep into the woman’s lungs.
To her surprise, she found something familiar there—a hint of her own power, her lingering kiss. Like a tiny bubble of golden light, her power enveloped Brika’s heart. Even through the violent convulsions and labored breathing, her pulse was steady. The light faded rapidly, as if the poison was burning it away.
Her power clashed with the poison, burning it away from Brika’s lungs. “Now breathe,” Sohaila said, eyes still closed. “Breathe deep for me.” She sent a jolt into Brika’s diaphragm, and the woman took a deep, shuddering breath. Sohaila lifted her shoulders. At the last second, she tilted the woman’s head away, as Brika vomited violently onto the floor. Faera winced, dodging the mess.
Sohaila stroked Brika’s tangled hair gently. “You’re fine now,” she said, lowering her back to the table. She dipped her hands into the antidote, then massaged it into her chest, moving up her throat and under her jaw, then across her forehead and cheekbones. “Just breathe.” The woman was partially conscious, but her eyes were closed, her face twisted in a grimace. Sohaila gestured to Faera. “Can you keep an eye on her? If it looks like she’s going to be sick again, turn her head. Yell for me if you have to.”
“Yes, sister,” Faera breathed. Her voice was a low murmur as she cooed, “You’ll be all right. I’m right here.”
As she turned to head outside again, she found a welcome sight in the doorway. Kaldir, breathing hard but gloriously alive, leaned on Azeria and surveyed the room. She wanted to leap into his arms, but she just smiled at him. He smiled back, pressing one hand to his heart.
Thank you, she murmured.
She surveyed their makeshift infirmary. Three occupied tables, with half a dozen of the other soldiers nursing minor injuries. It was tempting to visit each of them and patch up every minor wound, but she knew she had to wait. Furrowing her brow, she hurried into the main hall where the others had gathered. Quiet conversation buzzed all around.
Dread prickled in her belly as she approached Kaldir. “Where are the others? Velati and Marlena aren’t here. And…Kamina and Dhavar. Did they land?”
“They went for the palace,” he said. “But Marlena sounded a retreat a while ago.” He shook his head. “I hope they’re not being fools.”
“Someone help!” a female voice cried out. Marlena was in the doorway, her exposed tattoos glowing angry red. Sohaila shoved past Kaldir and followed her out to the courtyard.
Velati was on his hands and knees, panting for air. Deep claw marks slashed his side. Sprawled to either side of him were Kamina and Dhavar, both caught in a gruesome cycle of half-transformation. Dhavar gasped in pain as massive teeth grew from his small jaw, one arm swelling in a burst of purple scales. Kamina lay on her belly, skeletal wings breaking through her back as her bloodied hands scraped at the stone.
“What the…” she murmured.
Velati let out a growl and pressed his hand to his bleeding side. “It was a fucking Elegy,” he said. “Should have known.” She started to check him, but he batted her hand lightly. “I’m fine. Help them.”
She knelt next to Dhavar, bracing her hands against his shoulders. Chaotic energy battered her senses. His body was trying to shift and trying to resist the change at the same time. His clawed hand gripped her shoulder. Panic washed over her as she saw a flash of Adron, claws coming for her face, slicing in slow agony.
Closing her eyes, she shielded her face with her hands. The claws tore free, and she opened her eyes to see Velati pinning Dhavar’s wrist to the ground. “You’re safe,” he told her quietly. “Take a breath if you need to. This is ugly, but it’s not going to kill him right away.”
She took a deep breath, then sent her power into Dhavar’s body, sliding up his spine and into his mind. Something there flared bright and angry. She sent her power into it, burning it away. The scales on his arm slowly receded, leaving clammy skin in its wake. She sighed. “Okay,” she said as he relaxed. “You’re okay.”
And so am I.
Citra was already working on Kamina, stroking her brow gently with glowing hands. It took a few minutes, but the woman finally relaxed, wings dissolving and leaving her back bruised but whole.
Sohaila sat back on her heels. She peered at Velati. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said, still holding his bloodied side. “Surprisingly. That was a lot easier than it should have been.” His eyes fell on Narik’s still form. He closed his eyes. “How many did we lose?”
“So far, just Narik,” she said. “The worst was Brika. She got hit by the Talons, but she’s stable now. If you’re all accounted for, then I can go inside and work on a few of the worst injuries. I wanted to make sure I was ready if you all dropped a crisis in my lap.”
He smiled faintly. “Well done.”
“Thank you. Can you tell me what happened?”
“I need to get scouts moving again,” he said. “Then we’ll talk.”
It wasn’t until sunrise that things had settled enough to gather for a debriefing. In that time
, she had gotten Brika awake and fed her a hearty dose of antidote to counteract the Talons’ poison. She’d also disinfected and bandaged a dozen wounds and reset a few dislocated joints amidst colorful cursing. With the help of Faera and several of the others, they moved Narik to a smaller room, where she and Citra gently washed his face and prayed over him. It usually wasn’t her responsibility to carry out funeral rites, but the Marashti were trained to provide basic attention until a priestess of the Brood could properly care for them.
Her eyes were heavy when she left Narik to return to the main hall, where Velati and Kaldir sat on the dais, talking quietly with Marlena. “We’re in agreement, then,” Velati said as she entered.
“Sister,” Kaldir greeted warmly, eyes creasing as she walked in.
“What happened out there?” she asked.
Velati shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. But it’s not over.”
“What do you mean?”
“Only one of the Aesdar attacked us,” Kaldir said. “And most of the tents we saw were empty. I thought maybe they had gone inside the walls, but there weren’t nearly as many soldiers as we expected.”
“Could you have misjudged?” she asked.
Velati shook his head. “Not this badly. There were far more people here last week.”
“You think he moved?” Sohaila asked.
Velati nodded. “But where? We didn’t see anything as we flew west.” He sighed. “Marlena and I went into the Sunspire looking for Sidran. A few dozen soldiers were waiting there. We took them out, but there was no sign of him or the other Aesdar. When we got to the throne room, an Elegy went off. He had left a trap for whoever came looking.” He spared a look over his shoulder. Marlena smiled at him shyly, then looked down at the floor. “She kept me stable while we got out, but Kamina and Dhavar didn’t have riders, so we had to carry them out fighting the whole way. I’d like to send someone back in and search the place, but we’ll have to shut the Elegy down first.”