Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Lightning flashes, illuminating the clouds above for less than a heartbeat before tearing through the sky and striking the wyvern in the chest. The beast screams as it falls, and Tairn passes so closely overhead that I catch the scent of charred flesh.
There’s no time for relief as two more burst through the smoke.
We’re outnumbered, and while Tairn is bigger, they are faster.
“High ground,” Tairn warns before banking right and climbing, putting the village behind us.
I turn as far as the belt on my saddle will allow and raise my hand, welcoming the burn as energy gathers within me, but— “They’re on us!”
Too close to strike without endangering Tairn.
The larger wyvern’s enormous jaw opens, revealing bloodstained teeth, and its tongue curls as it lunges with a burst of speed. “Tairn!”
Tairn dips his wings at an angle, catching the wind, and I hurtle forward in the seat at the sudden decrease in speed as he swings his massive tail. Bone cracks, blood spurts, and the wyvern spins off to the right, missing the lower half of its jaw.
I can’t pivot fully, but I take aim at what I can see of the one still pursuing us, then unleash with a crack…and miss.
“Fuck.” I reach—
“If you remove that belt, I will unseat you over the river and let your meager gods sort you out,” Tairn warns, then banks left, giving me the perfect view.
I release another strike, guiding it with the motion of my hand, and it hits true, severing the wyvern’s head from its neck. “Got it!”
Fuck yes.
But unless those three wyvern are on a scouting patrol—unlikely, given the flaming village—there has to be a creator nearby. I face forward and lean into the turn, casting my focus downward. The demarcation line is clear this high above the village. Half is devoid of color, drained of all its magic, and in the center of the village stands a single figure in flowing dark robes, her light hair—silver?—whipping in the wind.
It’s her. The dark wielder from Jack’s cell. My grip tightens on the conduit.
She looks toward us, lifts her hand, and wiggles her fingers as if waving. A sick feeling squeezes my stomach. “I think…she was expecting us.”
This is a trap.
And we flew right into it. My heart drops at the realization, but it doesn’t change the fact that Maren’s family is in danger.
“Above!” Tairn bellows, and I look up as two wyvern emerge from the swirling storm system.
I lift my hand, but there’s no time. They’re already here.
Tairn punches his tail forward, underneath us, swinging his body in a way I’ve never experienced, and I fall backward, my stomach lodging in my throat as the ground takes the place of the sky and the strap pulls tight across my thighs, holding me upside down long enough for my heart to pound in my ears twice.
Snap. Bone fractures, and Tairn rolls right, dragging the broken-necked corpse of a wyvern with us, then releasing it once we level. I force my stomach back where it belongs and prepare to strike the other as it lunges for us.
It snaps its jaws, teeth clashing mere feet from Tairn’s shoulder as it misses, cutting at least two years off my life. I extend my arm—
“Do not!” Tairn orders, and a second later, brown scales consume my field of vision as Aotrom clasps the wyvern’s head between his teeth and bites as we pass.
The wind roars like a beast, blocking out any other sound, and Tairn banks hard, whipping himself back around. My face contorts into a grimace at the force my body absorbs with the maneuver, and I fight to remain conscious as we turn toward the battle.
Aotrom’s tail curves up, the poisonous barb jabbing into the belly of the wyvern— I blink. A scorpiontail?
It’s not Aotrom.
“Chradh,” Tairn explains as the wyvern falls from the dragon’s grip.
“What the fuck is Garrick—”
“Tornado!” Tairn warns a second before a wall of wind hits hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs and drags us into its swirling vortex.
We’re flung like a rag doll, and the roar of the storm vibrates every bone in my body. Tairn snaps his wings shut, and I hold fast to the pommels and duck my head as debris flies by, terror locking my muscles as we’re thrown round and round and round as though we weigh nothing.
Oh Malek, I am not ready to meet you.
“Violet!” Andarna shouts.
“No!” Tairn bellows as we’re spun to a near vertical position.
“Stay back!” I shriek, and fear burns through my bones like acid as we’re ripped outward by centrifugal motion. She can’t get caught in this. It has every chance of killing us and will damn sure take her life.
We’re flung out of the storm like a projectile, hurtling backward through the air toward what I think is a mountainside. Tairn opens his wings in a burst, slowing our speed from meteoric to lethal in a move so sudden, my head whips backward and my ears ring. His roar shakes my ribs as he snaps his wings shut and contorts his body in an attempt to twist.