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Garion said nothing, near silent as the Elders, but his face communicated enough. He was deadly as Sorasa, an Amhara blooded, one of the most fearsome assassins on the Ward. And he was terrified, his eyes never wavering from Charlie’s back. He followed as closely as he could, near a shadow to the fallen priest. A sword at his side, and a shield at his back.

He reminded Corayne of someone else, another Companion.

Her breath caught as she remembered a gentle-mannered squire, with warm eyes and sure hands.

She looked through the Elder army again, from Valnir’s silhouette to every blade and bow.I would trade all of them for the others. Every single immortal blade.For Dom, for Sorasa, for Sigil, for Valtik. And for Andry, her own shield to walk beside her, guarding every step of the way.

Ahead of them, the shadow of a tower fell over Valnir. He slowed, and all thoughts of the Companions faded. Corayne’s pulse quickened to a steady drumbeat pounding in her ears.

What the Elder monarch sensed, she did not know. Her grip tightened on her sword anyway. Sorasa and Sigil had taught her well, training her to fight, and above all things, how to survive. Corayne could only hope the lessons stuck.

At the vanguard, Valnir raised his bow, training his arrow on something mortal eyes could not see. His archers followed his lead and took aim, arrowheads flashing in the sun.

Corayne gritted her teeth, barely daring to breathe. Next to her, Charlie went white-faced.

They heard no order, but every arrow loosed at once, hissing through the air in gentle arcs. Together, they disappeared over the crest of the hill, among the broken walls of the ruins.

The dragon’s cry was like claws on stone, high and keening.

A bolt of terror shot through Corayne and she crouched low, scrapingup against a thornbush. Black branches and winter-dead rose vines curled at her back. She could already feel the shadow of wings falling over her, the dragon of Gidastern fresh in her mind. Her breath rattled in her chest and she fought to steady it, counting through every inhale and exhale.

The Elders wasted no time, another volley already arcing over the hill as the first beat of wings sounded. Through the thorns, Corayne caught the first glimpse of the Spindle monster, its wings a deep ruby red.

“To the tomb with this,” Garion cursed somewhere. Amhara though he was, even he couldn’t keep the fear from his voice. “We can still run.”

Corayne swallowed hard, a stone in her stomach. “No we can’t,” she snapped back.

Her legs moved beneath her, seemingly of their own accord. The old road up to the ruins blurred as she sprinted forward, her boots kicking up dirt and bone dust. The Elders fell in beside her, protectors as much as warriors. She caught sight of Castrin out of the corner of her eye and Charlie too, red-faced, arms pumping with his cloak strewn out behind him.

Valnir was a flag at the head of the company, black bow raised high.

The red dragon leapt into the air with another screech, the joint of each wing needled with arrows. It was indeed small compared to the dragon from Gidastern, but still brutally fearsome. Its body was the size of a carriage, with wings splayed four times as wide, the points hooked into wicked claws. Jewels glittered along its hide, rubies and garnets and carnelian, flashing a firestorm. Roaring, it blew a stream of flame across the sky.

Valnir put an arrow in its eye for the trouble. This time, when the dragon screamed, Corayne had to cover her ears.

They reached the hilltop and the ruins as one, arrows whistling overhead. Many glanced off the red dragon’s jeweled skin, but a few foundspare inches of soft flesh. Smoking blood rained with every beat of the dragon’s wings.

Corayne kept one eye on the beast while sprinting over the uneven ground, careful not to trip on broken stone or body parts. She entered what must have been a great hall once, its columns broken, a single wall remaining, its windows long shattered. The dragon’s tail swept overhead like a battering ram and she threw herself to the ground, narrowly avoiding the blow.

Her voice cracked as she yelled, “Charlie!”

“I’m here!” he shouted back from behind a collapsed wall. Garion stood over him, blade drawn, his sharp eyes trained on the dragon wheeling among the towers.

It shrieked and screamed, bellowing another stream of fire down on the Elders. They dodged in graceful unison, moving like a school of fish.

“Another,” Valnir shouted, directing the next volley of arrows. His Elders emptied their quivers and the red dragon wailed, its screams of rage devolving into screams of pain.

“Another,” Corayne murmured, climbing to her feet. Her breath came in short gasps, some tightness she didn’t understand closing around her throat.

She turned in a circle, surveying the ruins and the Elder company. Corpses lay among the stones, barely recognizable, their bones broken and flesh torn. There were animals too, cows from surrounding farms, some horses and deer. Bigger game, all of it devoured, leaving little more than hooves and arcing rib cages.

The Elder ranks devolved, swordsmen and archers splaying out to surround the red dragon. It kept low over them, wings fanning the flames as they caught among the overgrown rocks.

The Elders kept on, a steady, merciless flood to wear down the dragon.With every passing second, it fought harder, even as its wings weakened, its flames losing their heat.

Victory was near, but Corayne felt only dread. She eyed the massacred animals again, some of them almost the size of the young dragon. Too big for it to carry.

Then a cloud crossed the sun, sending the ruins into shadow.