by Jordan Rivet
“Air Sensing is something you’re born with, just like the Fire Spark. You can’t—”
“Who can?” Sora demanded. “Someone must know how to use Fire and Air together.”
“No one has done it in a thousand years,” Lima said. “That’s why I didn’t say anything before. It’s just theory.”
Sora cursed as another dragon soared overhead, then another. As the dragons kept coming, they had to fall silent to avoid their notice. The advancing darkness might camouflage them, but it was only a matter of time before the creatures spotted them.
Sora huddled lower in the hollow beside Kel, Lima, and the woman with the child. More dragons flew overhead, but they paid no attention to the bedraggled survivors. Something else had drawn their attention.
Something at the entrance to the Fissure.
Dara knelt on the Fissure Road, filling her blood with as much Fire as Rumy could produce. She needed more, but her father still hadn’t returned from the woods. The huge creatures were flying along the river now, following its path through the Fissure. It grew darker by the minute, and shadows already filled the canyon. Moonlight gleamed on the dragons’ scales and on their deep, jewel-bright eyes as they flew nearer. Dara shivered despite the power simmering in her body.
Where was Siv? The Fire alone wouldn’t be enough to kill the true dragons. They breathed Fire. They lived it, luxuriated in it. Without the Watermight Siv and his companions were bringing, even the strongest burst of Fire wouldn’t stop the true dragons. She didn’t want to leave the Vertigonians alone, but she was out of time.
She rose and gave a few final orders to the soldiers on the road, then she scrambled onto Surri’s back. The Cindral dragon trembled beneath her, as if she sensed the approaching threat. Dara had no soothing words to calm the tension in the creature. This was no time for taming the beast. She needed Surri to be ready to fight for her life.
“Let’s go get that Watermight.”
Surri launched herself into the sky with powerful strokes of her midnight-black wings. Air whistled around Dara, the crisp, smoke-tinged air of the mountain in the summertime. They stayed as low as possible, skimming along the treetops to avoid notice.
The advancing true dragons were even bigger than Dara first thought, much bigger than Surri. She’d heard a dozen of the creatures haunted the mountain, but at least thirty of them were drawing inexorably nearer. Even if she reached the Watermight in time, she didn’t know if she stood a chance against them.
“Doesn’t matter now,” she muttered. “We’re not going down without a fight.”
THAT’S THE SPIRIT.
Dara tightened her grip on Surri’s neck at the words. The Fire coursed through her, hot and crackling, like burning oil. She used its intensity to help her focus. She felt strong with it. Powerful.
But not nearly as powerful as those creatures. One of the dragons unleashed a terrible roar as he soared down to the river. The cry shook the trees, announcing the dragon’s intentions as clearly as a royal proclamation. Dara’s heart clenched like a fist. The swarm of invaders was flying directly to where Siv and the Cindral dragons were supposed to be.
She bent lower over Surri’s neck as they sped through the air.
Siv and Telvin heard the dragon’s roar from within the woods. They’d gone a few hundred yards ahead of the others, but they still weren’t too far from the river. The beasts bore down, stirring the trees with the beat of their wings and their harsh cries.
“Which way, Sire?” Telvin asked.
Siv paused, quickly calculating their odds of reaching either group of allies in time to be of any use.
“Back to the river. We need to protect those Cindral dragons and get their Watermight to Dara.”
There would be no speeches to his men, no noble reunions. Once again, Siv faced a fight to the death, one where he was ill equipped against the forces of legend. But he would defend the Watermight in those dragons if it was the last thing he did.
Siv and Telvin charged back through the woods. Branches scraped at their faces, and they barely kept from falling in the perilous darkness. Siv wished he had a Fire Lantern or an Everlight to guide him, though it would probably lure those monsters directly to him. The only advantage he had right now was that the dragons wouldn’t know he was anyone of consequence. To them, he would be just another man. But he was a man who intended to fight like a cornered marrkrat to give Dara a chance to beat the bastards.
They burst out of the trees to find their allies in chaos. The Cindral dragons were thrashing in fear, eyes rolling as the swarm approached. The handlers struggled to contain the frenzied animals while simultaneously scanning the sky. Rid was carrying armloads of weapons from the moored boats and distributing them to the defenseless dragon handlers. The Soolen soldiers were drawing their own weapons and shouting rapid questions at the Watermight fighters, who were trying to get close enough to the frantic Cindral dragons to make use of the power they carried. Latch bellowed at everyone to remain calm.
As Siv sprinted toward the riverbank, the first true dragon swooped down. The huge green creature had jet-black wings and scales that shone like emeralds. Its deep cobalt eyes glowed as it opened its mouth and spewed forth a torrent of Fire.
Siv dove behind a large boulder to avoid the drops of Fire, which splattered the nearest Cindral dragon and its handler. The Cindral dragon shrieked and thrashed, trying to get the shimmering liquid off its body. The handler fell to the earth, screaming in pain as the Fire clung to her exposed skin.
The true dragon wheeled around and unleashed a second blast of Fire from its throat. The Cindral dragon recoiled, and a huge flood of silvery liquid tumbled from its mouth. The Watermight from its belly seemed to soothe its steaming scales. The Cindral dragon quickly disgorged more Watermight to combat the white-hot liquid in a flash of light and steam. Some of the silvery substance dripped away, soaking into the earth and disappearing.
The lead true dragon roared in fury as the Cindral dragon used Watermight to quench its fiery attack. Then the rest of the true dragons caught up, swarming down on the riverbank, mouths already opening to spit Fire.
Siv crouched behind the boulder, shocked to see so many true dragons. Where the Firelord did they all come from?
The true dragons barely seemed interested in the humans as they showered fiery attacks down on the Cindral dragons. Jet after jet of liquid flame assaulted the feathered creatures—intruders who had dared approach the mountain domain.
Of course, the Cindral dragons fought back. They couldn’t breathe Fire, but they had carried their best defense in their bellies all the way from their homeland. One after another, they used their Watermight supplies to stifle the heat of the dragon Fire. The silvery liquid poured from their throats. They sprayed it on their feathers and spewed it into the air to shield their vulnerable bodies from their larger, Fire-breathing cousins. Flashes of white light erupted wherever the Watermight met the Fire, destroying both substances.
Faster than Siv thought possible, the Cindral dragons were throwing away every drop of power they had worked so hard to deliver to the mountain. The Watermight disappeared in flash after blinding flash. Soon, there would be none left, and all their efforts would be for naught. Where was Dara? Where were the Fireworkers?
The Cindral dragon handlers and Soolens who hadn’t made it to the trees crouched in the boats or took refuge in the river itself. A few tried to defend the Cindral dragons. Siv spotted Rid standing in front of one, raising a steel-tipped staff. Other soldiers bolted for the trees. The true dragons burned there too, almost lazy in their attacks on the men. It was a slaughter against which they had almost no protection.
One Waterworker was still fighting, though. Twenty paces from where Siv crouched behind his boulder, Latch knelt on the ground with his hands pressed in the mud. His eyes shone silver as he soaked up Watermight as quickly as he could. If he saved enough before it all drained away, maybe they still had a chance. Siv had to give him more time.
“
Men of Soole, Pendark, and Cindral Forest!” Siv called, leaping from behind his rock. “To me! We have to protect our dragons and our Workers.”
Captain Lian poked his head out from one of the boats. “It’s King Siv! We’re fighting!”
“We can’t fight these monsters!” Gidon cried from where he crouched behind the singed body of another Cindral dragon. “We are being slaughtered.”
“We have to try.” Siv paused long enough to dive out of the way of another spurt of Fire. “Split up the Cindral dragons before we lose them all!” he shouted as he rolled to his feet again. “They’re easy targets by the river. Get them to the woods—or into the air! Quickly!”
The men responded, leaving their hiding places to rally to Siv’s side. The handlers leapt onto the remaining Cindral dragons’ backs. They soared into the sky, flying in different directions as quickly as they could.
As the Cindral dragons fled, the true dragons tried to snatch them from the air, paying no heed as their riders tumbled off. The Cindral dragons were severely outnumbered now. As many as three true dragons ganged up on each of the smaller creatures, harrying them until the last of their Watermight was used up. They had no choice but to flee or die.
A handful made it through the attacking horde. The lead dragon shrieked angrily, as if ordering his followers to block off any escape routes. But the other true dragons were too interested in bullying the smaller creatures and trying to set men’s hair on fire to tighten the net around Siv’s party.
More Cindral dragons slipped away.
“Rally to me!” Siv called to the men on the ground. Latch was still soaking in as much Watermight as he could salvage. Siv gathered his men to defend Latch and the last precious drops of power. That Watermight was their only hope against the true dragons now. “We must protect our friends to the last!”
Siv and his men started toward Latch. When they were mere feet away, the big green-and-black dragon swept in and plucked him from the mud.
Latch let out a terrible yell as the true dragon soared into the night air and carried him—and the last of his Watermight—away.
Dara and Surri flew toward the river as fast as they could. The fight was already underway, and dragons were everywhere, wheeling across the sky and lighting up the treetops with flame.
“Almost there,” Dara said desperately. She Worked as they flew, spinning together Fire darts she hoped might stand a chance against the great creatures—or at least distract them from massacring her friends.
The feathered Cindral creatures shrieked as the true dragons bore down on them, attacking mercilessly with claws and flames and snapping jaws. Flashes of white and silver erupted as the Cindral dragons attempted to defend themselves with Watermight. Surri shuddered at the sight of her cousins falling to the larger dragons.
“Almost . . . there.”
But they were a hundred yards from the riverbank when the first true dragon spotted them. Its scales were purple, and its wings were an iridescent gold. When it moved, the light from the other dragons’ Fire shone on it like the purest Firegold embroidery. It soared to meet them, letting out a cry that would have made Dara shake in her boots if she weren’t brimful of Fire.
Surri uttered a vicious roar and snapped her wings outward, pulling up to meet the true dragon’s attack with her talons forward. The purple dragon slammed into her, and the jolt nearly threw Dara from her back. Dara held on for dear life as the creatures clawed at each other, trying to rip out each other’s throats, tear each other’s wings, or knock each other from the sky.
Barely keeping her seat, Dara pelted her Fire darts directly at the purple true dragon’s golden eyes. The first darts missed their mark and plunged into the forest. Leaves ignited beneath them. Flames curled through the trees, spreading fast.
Dara’s next round of darts hit their mark, driving deep into the purple true dragon’s eyes. The spikes of solid gold power had no effect whatsoever. The dragon absorbed the Fire through its eyes without a blink and launched another attack at Surri. That’s not good.
Dara tried everything: shackles of Fire, spears of power as sharp as lightning, blunt strikes designed to disorient and distract. Not a single one worked. This true dragon lived the Fire. It burned with it, giving it life, giving it power. She couldn’t fight this creature with Fire, and she couldn’t use up any more, or she’d have none left to mix with the Watermight—if there was any left.
They were still too far from the riverbank. Other dragons fought around them, some in the air, some thrashing on the ground. The fire in the trees spread, lighting up the night.
The purple dragon wheeled around for another attack. As it streaked toward them, it unleashed a blast of Fire for the first time. Surri shrieked in pain as the attack hit her full in the face. She pulled back, her scales steaming and her feathers shriveling, and Dara began to understand. Surri couldn’t stand the heat. Cindral dragons and true dragons were a different breed, and only one was equipped to handle Fire.
The true dragons had attacked with claws and teeth at first, used to fighting their own kind this way. But they were quickly figuring out that their Fire would hurt the Cindral dragons.
The purple dragon tried a Fire attack again. Dara wrapped her arms tighter around Surri’s neck and captured as much of the blast as she could in her own body. She may not be able to use the Fire against the true dragons, but she could keep it from hurting Surri.
The purple dragon screeched angrily as its Fire disappeared. Dara pulled more and more of it into her blood, saving her companion from another blast of pain.
“We have to hurry,” Dara said. “I can’t hold much more.”
YOU DON’T HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE.
Surri dove beneath the purple dragon’s next attack, flying so close that its talons raked Dara’s hair. They skimmed the tops of the trees, and Dara spun a dozen huge Fire blossoms behind her, hoping to distract their pursuer. Surri snapped her wings to her sides and plummeted toward the riverbank.
It was pure carnage. The Cindral dragons and their handlers had scattered. Some lay on the ground, their bodies smoking, while others clashed with the larger true dragons. Boats careened across the river, some overturned, some foundering in eddies by the shore. At least one was speeding away as some of the men tried to escape downriver.
The Cindral dragons had taken the brunt of the damage. They spewed Watermight from their throats, desperately defending themselves against the Fire the only way they could. Showers of precious Watermight disappeared into nothing as the dragons used it to fend off their attackers. Dara felt as if an icy fist were crushing her heart, despite all the Fire burning in her blood. Without that Watermight, none of them stood a chance.
One group of men had banded together in some semblance of order. They were running headlong toward a figure kneeling in the mud beside the steaming body of yet another Cindral dragon: Latch Brach.
Siv himself ran at their head, a sword in one hand and a knife in the other. Dara felt a wild burst of pride in her chest. The man she loved led the others forward to save his friend, a ferocious look on his face. Siv’s men raised their weapons, following him as he rushed to defend Latch.
BEWARE.
In the instant Dara looked away from Latch to follow Siv’s progress, a huge true dragon swooped down toward him. Talons closed around Latch’s arms. One panicked heartbeat later, great black wings launched them into the air.
“Latch!” Siv bellowed as the friend he was trying to protect was snatched up. “Bring him back, you rot-infested greckleflush!”
Dara sent a Fire blossom spinning toward Siv to attract his attention to where she rode on Surri’s back. He looked up and locked eyes with her.
She started to yell, “Where is—?”
“You have to go after him, Dara!” Siv shouted. “Latch has all the Watermight. Without it—”
“I’ll get him!” Dara called. Surri soared upward again, responding to Dara’s thoughts almost before they formed. She wanted to hel
p Siv and the others, but they couldn’t lose the last of the Watermight. Surri sensed it too. They needed that power. As much as it killed Dara to leave Siv behind, they couldn’t delay. She and Surri streaked into the night after Latch and his captor.
36.
The Mountain
SELIVIA ran out of the King’s Arena as soon as the swarm of true dragons departed. Something had attracted their attention, something they didn’t like one bit. She’d watched in amazement from the Arena door as they gathered above Orchard Gorge, working themselves into a screaming, shrieking frenzy. Then Mav roared louder than all of them and took off, leading every dragon in Vertigon into the Fissure.
Selivia was terrified they had spotted Sora’s group, but the true dragons seemed angrier than they should be about a small party of human survivors. Something else must have agitated them. What could threaten that many true dragons?
She left her hiding place and hurried to the nearest outlook, praying she wouldn’t see the dragons feasting on her sister and the others far below. Instead, the dragons flew much farther away, almost to the mouth of the Fissure, before they swooped down to attack. Selivia couldn’t tell who or what they were fighting. In the advancing darkness, she mostly just saw bursts of Fire.
“Now’s your chance to reach the others,” she told herself. “Don’t think about what they’re doing down there.”
She gave the far-away battle one last glance before bolting down the street. It could be a long time before she had another chance to cross King’s Peak in safety.
As she ran through the streets, she saw the evidence of the true dragons’ activities: charred buildings, discarded mountain goat bones, other bones she didn’t examine too closely, even smoldering piles of dragon droppings. Smears of soot and ash altered the façade of every building. The once-elegant King’s Peak looked grimmer than an over-occupied stable and smelled just as terrible.
Selivia got lost more than once in the altered landscape. It was dark by now, and none of the usual Firelights illuminated the streets. She was fighting tears by the time she knocked on the door of House Silltine. To her great relief, it opened for her at once, and she was admitted to the warm, musty depths of old Lord Silltine’s hiding place.