The scream that tore from QueQoa's mouth cut through her, so strong he was about to collapse in the sky. He flung her as he fell to a ledge several feet below.
This throw wasn't a good one.
She knew it as soon as she slid through the air. It wasn't strong enough or high enough, arcing too low already. Her limbs were heavy, the screeching air stinging her face and fingers. It was so much harder not to flail as the wind whipped up around her and dragons clashed. But they were so close to the edge of the canyon. So close! Maybe a thousand feet or so.
She drew her arms in tight, cringing as the descent started again. No one was close.
And there was nothing she could do except watch and blow that stupid whistle.
The harder the brothers fought, the more vicious the dragons attacked. AaQar had struggled to another ledge and gained about seventy feet's progress as two dragons attacked, slicing and biting at his chest wound. WroOth had almost made it to him, but three or four slammed against him at once, driving him back again and again. His flame bursts lacked the same brightness and fury, no longer incinerating and barely burning. QueQoa had fought his way back up on the narrow butte, his left arm and shoulder badly twisted and one wing collapsed. With the other three wings, he might manage to fly a short distance.
And Naatos—he'd gotten to QueQoa and wasted another dragon. His movements lacked their previous sharpness, his energy flow lower. But when he looked up, she knew he saw her. Knew he understood exactly what was happening and what the cost would be.
It wasn't all right. And it wasn't fine.
But he launched himself at her.
She ducked her head, her arms wrapped tight around Tacky in the bowl and satchel as she braced for the impact.
Naatos caught her with one claw and pulled her in. As he did, his form collapsed back into his state of rest, black scales melting into flesh. The force of the dragon arm drawing her in slammed her into his now very human chest and sent both of them spinning toward the flat top of the mountain steppe.
When they struck the stone, they continued rolling. He kept her folded to his chest with one arm and jutted the other out to keep her from hitting the ground. He jumped to his feet, tore his spear free, and then grabbed the vial of scorpion venom.
By the time Amelia got to her feet, he had already transformed the spear into a halberd and added an extra four feet in length as well as a razor spike at the top.
Staggering, she grabbed hold of a rock to regain her balance. Her head spun, and her stomach despised her even more than her legs. The straps of the satchels dug deep into her shoulders, and her entire body ached from being squeezed and thrown.
But shrieking crespa, she wasn't going to stand back and do nothing.
A gold-eyed dragon landed on the edge. It crouched down, baring its teeth at Naatos and ignoring her completely. Its scales lifted up as it rattled them, stalking forward as it lashed its tail back and forth. It roared, its lips curling back from its gums.
Lunging forward, Naatos stabbed it in the jaw.
It recoiled, blinking as if in shock that this now comparatively shrunken shifter had a sting like that.
He stabbed at it again, not striking this time but making driving it farther away.
The dragon hissed in response, then charged, jaws spread. Naatos leaped back easily, bringing the halberd up.
Amelia checked her gun and then aimed it at the dragon's eye. The creature howled as the bullet found its mark.
Naatos lunged in and drove it back the rest of the way with his halberd, landing two more strikes with the venom-tipped blade. "I said stay behind me," he shouted, turning on her.
"I'm helping," she snapped. "This isn't a time to do nothing."
"Unless you know where we can find reinforcements, the only thing you can do to help is not die," he growled. His gaze narrowed as another dragon landed at the edge of the cliff. The dragon rattled its scales as it advanced, its claws grating on the stone. "Now get back."
Reinforcements?
A terrifying idea rose in her mind as she saw the alpha lift its head. Its nostrils flared as its gaze shifted to AaQar and WroOth. WroOth had reached AaQar and fought over him, blocking any of the attacking beasts from reaching his chest wound. AaQar still couldn't stand, but he'd reverted back to the sea dragon form and fought with his wings and heavily spiked tail.
Yes, of course. The dull sinking sensation spread from her stomach to her limbs, chilling her and hardening her resolve.
What else was there to do?
"Are you going to be shifting any time soon?" she asked.
"No." He gritted the word out as he adjusted the blades yet again, lengthening the blade and adding a double-pointed beak to the back. "Now get to safety. Get in a crevice and out of sight. They're not interested in you right now."
She swept the strap of her satchel around Naatos's shoulder. "Stay safe!" Turning, she bolted toward the canyon's edge.
QueQoa lunged off the pillar. He wobbled in the air, his three wings fighting to make up the difference of the fourth limp one. He crashed onto the flat top near Naatos and moved at once into a defensive position, roaring at their oncoming attackers.
More and more dragons poured through the night sky, converging on the two groups. As Amelia reached the edge of the large crevice, one swooped so low it nearly grazed her head.
The fact that she didn't exist for them was the one advantage she had. Elonumato help her, she was going to find a way out of this. And if it cost her her life, well—she couldn't see how they were getting out of this otherwise. Not without at least one casualty. Probably more.
She dropped down onto the ledge below, scrambled to the side, and moved down to the next. The dark stone scratched her fingers and raked against her arms and shins.
Up above, the chaos of the battle continued. Though the shrieks and bellows of the dragons as well as the clash of wings, teeth, and claws carried on the wind, it did not sound as if the alpha had joined in yet.
Whatever the alpha was waiting on, she had no doubt that once he got involved things would be over. Especially if all the rest of the dragons joined.
If she hurried—if she didn't get eaten—she could get their reinforcements.
She swung down to the next ledge, the impact of the drop jarring up through her legs.
Getting up again was going to be much harder. A lot slower too.
And—what if there were other things?
Was that likely?
She scrambled down another ten feet, trying to sort the most likely outcome.
Her mouth went dry at the memories of casket weavers and hook-fanged spiders.
No.
Scorpions were predators. Not solitary hunters though. That meant that nothing else was likely to live in safety in this place.
So—safe…as safe as one could be going unprotected into a massive crack in a mountain directly adjacent to Dry Deep.
She scrambled down, faster and faster, taking in every detail as best she could. The crevice opened up into a cave farther in, and the moon only cast enough light to see the front and a little beyond the great overhang.
The stone got darker down here, transitioning from grey and charcoal shades to pure black strewn with coarse sand. All the darker with the shadows. The stench burned her nostrils and throat. At intervals, stunted trees with black bark and no leaves fought to grow in the rock. The branches and twigs cast long finger-like shadows that made her shudder, but they were solid enough to steady herself against.
Once she reached a narrow ledge about ten feet off the ground, she stopped. What was down here? Freezing, she noted a single scorpion shape farther into the cave. Easily a foot or so taller than her, its tail arched far over its back.
It didn't move.
Not even a little. Picking up a rock, she tossed it near the scorpion, then ducked behind the bulge of stone.
Nothing.
An odd position to be sleeping in.
She tilted her head as she s
tudied it. Maybe that was just how boulder scorpions carried their tails. The one she'd seen had been strung up.
Good for now.
Leaping onto a patch of sand, she took in the base of the crevice. The scorpion still hadn't moved from its perch on the black hill. The crack itself ran on to the edge of the mountain, far enough away that it might lead out next to Dry Deep. Or over it.
There was another smaller crevice to her left. The moonlight shone in clearly enough for her to see the back. Based on the size of scorpion they'd had at the camp, it wouldn't be able to get in. It'd be a tight fit for her, but she could get to the back.
More dragon roars shook the air above.
No time.
Even from this distance, she was aware of them, albeit more vague and convoluted. No longer individual emotions and feelings but a general sensation of desperation and exhaustion.
Or maybe that was just her.
The threads were tangled in a great horrid mass, the colors now dim and struggling.
A few large branches lay on the ground, twisted and gnarled. She picked up the strongest and tested it.
Good enough.
With one more look to check the crevice she had chosen, she crept closer to the scorpion. It had perched itself on a steep incline of black stone. She climbed along the side, taking care to not disturb any of the sediment and sand. It would have been easiest to approach from the front, but she didn't trust that incline given how fast she was going to have to move.
The scorpion remained motionless, its claws resting on the black stone and grey-gold sand.
Adjusting her grip on the branch, she drew in a deep breath. All or nothing now, she thought.
She swiped the scorpion with the branch and turned to run. But nothing happened. She halted and then turned back. It hadn't moved at all. Not even to shift its position.
She struck it again, harder this time. "Wake up!" she shouted.
The entire ground shook and rose up, nearly knocking her off her feet as sand poured away. Two great red orbs opened up in the black stone.
All at once, it clicked. She hadn't hit a scorpion. She'd hit a growth between the scorpion's eyes that simply resembled a scorpion. The real scorpion was now awake.
And angry.
77
Duel of Titans
As QueQoa forced himself up after the latest triple attack, Naatos reapplied the last of the venom to the blade of his halberd. Scorpion venom stunk worse than almost any other, but its effectiveness couldn't be denied. Nor could the direness of their situation. "Is it back all the way?" he asked QueQoa.
QueQoa nodded tightly. "Their bites—" He winced, his face contorting.
"How long can you hold out?"
"Thirty, maybe. Forty if we're lucky."
Naatos set his jaw. They weren't. He gave him twenty minutes if he was being generous. But as long as possible, QueQoa had to stay in that altered shape. It was much easier to overpower and destroy one of them when they were in their human form, especially with these dragon stomachs being steel lined.
There was something in the fog too. It burned like the ilzinium. That and the toxic bacteria in the bites and perhaps even the claws and the utter intensity of it all—he couldn't have made a better trap given the same situation.
More dragons circled. Muscles tight, he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
He had to trust WroOth to get AaQar to them now. Unless he made it to the surge. Even then—there were seventy-eight visible dragons just watching them right now. Only watching. Including the alpha. He'd wasted twenty-three on his own. Grievously wounded and killed even more.
It wasn't enough.
This trap and its tactics were familiar, but the knowing gave precious little advantage. If you wanted to destroy Vawtrians in combat like this, you wore them down. You didn't go all in. Especially not at the start. You dragged it out. You kept them from cooperating with their cadre. You overwhelmed them and tormented them, drawing out their strength. Giving them enough hope to encourage foolish decisions on the chance it allowed them to escape. After all, what point was there in reserving something if one didn't survive to use it?
In terms of sheer numbers, they were overwhelmed and far from their full strength. They might get free of the canyon, but these dragons would hunt them until they destroyed them. Especially with AaQar and QueQoa leaking blood like sieves.
If they were anywhere but Ecekom, he'd have told Amelia to get as far away from them as she could. Not that she'd listen. He could scarcely believe she'd hidden like he told her.
The dragons gave them more space now, roaring, bellowing, rattling, and striking at the rocks. These breaks were meant to build dread and wear them down, but the reprieve from fighting and healing gave them a slim advantage. One he intended to maximize. His strength was building again, the energy pooling in his core and spreading into his limbs like lightning in a thunderhead.
The alpha rose up. No scales lifted, but his attention lasered on AaQar and WroOth. He strode forward to the edge of the ledge. Alarm tightened Naatos's muscles.
If AaQar didn't get his healing back in rhythm, he wouldn't even have twenty minutes. Not even the surge would save him with his toal bleeding that badly.
The other dragons all fell away, creating more than enough space for their leader to do as it willed.
The circle of dragons that surrounded them would keep either him or QueQoa from reaching AaQar and WroOth as they had several times already.
Still a fire dragon, WroOth turned to face the alpha. He spread out his wings and enlarged his chest, his teeth bared. But the turquoise in his eyes had dimmed. The smoke from his jaws trailed down rather than up, sluggish and indicative of a dying fire.
AaQar fought to push himself up. His right leg trembled. The toal wound expanded, splitting halfway down his chest now. Much more damage, and his heart would be exposed.
The alpha drew closer, neck extended, sword-like teeth glistening.
One option left.
He just needed more time.
At least a little more.
And while he only had one true option, he had more than a few tricks. The change in his vocal cords burned. But when he bellowed at the alpha, it sounded as if he were a dragon equal in size and strength.
The alpha pulled back and lifted its head. As it scanned the canyon, it searched for its challenger.
A very old trick that this beast didn't yet know.
Closing his eyes, he let his throat return to normal. "Tell me when they start coming again, QueQoa."
He let the darkness close in on him and blocked out his awareness of everything else.
Everything faded. The roars and snarls. The crashes against the stone. The sulfur and vinegar scent of the mist with the smell of blood and bile. The clack and scrape of claws and teeth.
With his body healed, his energy and strength returned, slowly. Pooling inside him. Flowing into his limbs. It arced and spread, building to one final form.
"Naatos." QueQoa's voice pierced the darkness.
Opening his eyes, Naatos evaluated his condition. Not quite as good as he wanted but better than before.
The alpha had returned its attention to WroOth and AaQar and advanced once again, rattling its scales and narrowing its silver eyes. A couple dragons circled both groups, high enough to be outside of striking distance but close enough to strike any of them if they tried to reach the others. All the rest perched on the walls or waited on the ledges and pillars, wings folded, watching as if observing a trial.
Naatos tossed the satchel to QueQoa. "This doesn't end well. Use what strength you've got and get Amelia—" He paused as the dolmath's chirring whimper reached his ears. Why had she given him that satchel? She hadn't wanted him to carry Tacky before because she didn't want it to be scared or injured in a fight. And the dolmath would have been safer with her if she had done as he said and hid. So why was Tacky with him?
Crespa, that woman!
"Not leaving you behi
nd," QueQoa said with effort. He secured the satchel up on his bad shoulder and wedged it between his chest and rigid and bent left arm.
Refocusing himself, Naatos pushed as much of her from his mind as he could. "Get Amelia out of here. It's the most you can do. It's only going to let one of us fight at a time. Don't waste time or energy to intervene. Don't go get her until I start to shift."
QueQoa's jaws tightened as he gave a small nod. The scales scraped off his cheek, jaw, and throat hadn't healed yet, leaving the bloody flesh exposed. Twenty minutes had been far too generous.
Summoning up the last of his shifting energy, Naatos channeled it into a massive black storm dragon that almost matched the size and build of the alpha. The form ripped his flesh, bones, muscles, and sinews apart, extending into new organs, longer limbs, massive teeth, and enormous claws. The thick black interlocking scales shot out, each one stabbing him in its creation as well as in its fastening. Deep in his chest, the lightning reservoir roiled and burned, filling up already.
Dropping to all fours, he roared again and lashed his tail spikes against one of the pillars. His challenge echoed up and down the canyon.
The alpha turned before the sound faded, lips curling back to expose its fangs. It jutted out its jaw and shook its wine-red scales once more, then answered with its own screeching bellow.
QueQoa bolted to get to Amelia. He'd barely gotten to the edge before a much smaller dragon pounced on him, pinning him on his good side and tearing into his ribs. QueQoa snarled, kicking and clawing at it but unable to get traction.
Curse these wretched creatures!
Naatos seized it by the leg. Though the dragon attempted to dig its claws into the cracked, grey stone, he flung it at the alpha.
The alpha seized the dragon in its jaws and hurled it back. When the corpse struck the flat top, it skidded and rolled before falling off the other side.
Poor aim. Good sign.
Angry dragons made mistakes.
Naatos stepped farther away from QueQoa, knowing that to help him further might result in more attacks. "Don't intervene. They may leave you alone long enough for you to get her out of here."
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