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N YX SHOVED OFF the planks, her head still ringing after being knocked flat by Bashaliia’s outburst. Dizziness still churned her stomach. Her darkened vision swirled with brighter patches—from the lanterns, from the fonts of the raash’ke bridle-song. She fought to focus on the golden glow ahead of her, where a fiery emerald storm raged.

Bashaliia…

She had to get her winged brother under control, lest he blindly rip through everyone. But he was not the only threat. Boots pounded deeper into the hold, marking the trespass by Bhestyan raiders. Five, as best she could count. They closed upon the frightened raash’ke, who retreated in confusion, unaccustomed to strangers, unable to tell friend from foe.

Not without guidance.

That arrived with raucous shouts of fury and the pounding of many feet. One voice rose above the tumult. “Protect the mounts!”

Daal must have roused the entire Panthean contingent, a dozen or more. They fell upon the marauders with ringing steel.

“Close tight!” the Bhestyan leader bellowed, even now sounding unintimidated by the assault. “Pick them off!”

Daal shouted again, “Yee wah nayl!”

Though spoken in his native tongue, these words were meant not for his fellow Pantheans—but for those he had trained. His command reached the raash’ke.

Attack the enemy!

The bats needed no further instruction. Already nervous and suspicious, the raash’ke struck at the nearest threat, those whose scent was surely different from that of anyone aboard the ship. Wings beat the air and claws shoved against planks. The pack lunged at the strangers with screeches of pent-up fury.

Moments later, men screamed, their voices full of blood.

Bashaliia responded to the clashes of steel, to the moans of the dying. Emerald fire spread, consuming his golden glow. His wings thrashed the air, readying to attack.

Nyx knew she did not have the strength to rein in that wildness.

But another might.

She turned to the battle, searching the gloom. She faintly made out a swirl of golden light rising from a familiar well, weak but present.

Would it be enough?

She cupped her mouth and called over, “Daal! I need you!”

But the fighting drowned out her words.

She required a louder voice. With a last wisp of bridle-song, she nudged her wish into Kalder. The vargr responded and howled across the hold.

She followed it with a desperate hope.

Hear me.

T HROUGH THE DIN of battle, Daal cringed at a familiar wail.

Kalder…

Earlier, when Daal had left to settle the squabble among the Pantheans, the vargr had remained with Nyx. Kalder must still be guarding over her. Daal also spotted the battering of Bashaliia’s wings.

Something was wrong.

With a sword in hand, he sought a way past the fighting. Two of the five Bhestyan knights had fallen. Three Pantheans also lay on the ground. But Daal’s people no longer had to attack. They formed a defensive wall with their hammers, axes, and pikes, pinning down the three remaining marauders.

The raash’ke closed behind the enemy. One buck lashed out and sank venomous fangs into a knight’s throat, lifting the man off his feet. A strong shake, and his neck snapped, killing the man before the poison could reach his heart.

Knowing the battle was over, Daal shoved through the cordon of Pantheans. He shouted back to Tamryn, “Finish them off!”

As he ran, he heard the clash of a fiercer battle being waged above, as the larger contingent of Bhestyan raiders fought the Fyredragon ’s crew.

Daal ignored it and focused on his greater concern.

He spotted Nyx standing next to Kalder. She must have heard or sensed his approach. Relief softened the strain of her lips—but just barely.

As he rushed toward her, he searched for the source of her distress. Kalder guarded one side of her. Bashaliia hovered on the other, his huge wings thrashing, struggling to keep aloft within the confines of the hold, clearly responding to Nyx’s distress.

Daal hurried to close on her, confused and panicked.

Nyx stepped toward him. “Watch out!”

Daal noted a flash of emerald fire and instinctively dodged from it, remembering when last he had witnessed that vile tinge. Back at the ta’wyn strong hold in the Frozen Wastes. He leaped away as Bashaliia lunged and snapped at him. Even the barest graze of a fang could kill him.

Though his heart pounded, Daal recognized the danger now—what afflicted Bashaliia. He had experienced this savage raving before. He continued his roll and reached Nyx, crashing into her.

He hugged his arms around her.

“Take what you need,” he gasped out.

N YX DID NOT hesitate. The abyss inside her already demanded it, but at this moment, they were of one mind, one need.

She pulled Daal to her, drawing his feverish cheek to hers. She again felt the familiar fire as two melded into one. But it was weak, reflecting the shallowness of his wellspring. Still, she took everything from Daal, knowing it was the only hope. She dragged every erg of strength from him, not only from that well, but also from his life.

She felt his heart tremble.

His body went cold in her embrace.

Their communion faded, pushing them apart.

I’m sorry…

Still, his arms tightened on her, urging her to draw more.

But she dared not.

Instead, she gathered his warmth, his fire. She stoked it inside her lungs, her heart, her throat. All the while, she watched Bashaliia. After attacking Daal, he spun a circle, trailing a mix of emerald and golden fire through the air. He appeared momentarily dismayed at failing to strike his target, perhaps baffled by the refuge Daal had sought.

At the same time, Kalder paced around Nyx, matching the bat’s path with a low growl of warning.

This impasse would not last much longer.

Knowing this, Nyx lifted her cheek from Daal’s and cast forth a twining trail of golden song toward her winged brother. She folded in chords of reassurance, memories of the two nestled together in a wagon, when Bashaliia was no larger than a winter goose. She added in the smell of silage from the swamplands, the whisper of wind through the rushes, the sonnet of frogs under a dark canopy.

Remember…

She cast this chorus up into that raging storm of emerald and gold fire. She forged her song into a beacon, an anchor to help draw Bashaliia out of the madness. She had done something similar back when she had wrested the raash’ke from the enslavement of the ta’wyn Root out in the Wastes.

Remember who you are…

Bashaliia struggled to respond. A soft pining flowed through the madness. But still, the storm inside him raged too strongly. It battered and ripped at her song. The anchor it represented threatened to be torn away.

I’m still not strong enough.

She felt Daal’s cold arms around her, knowing the offer they represented. But she could take no more. As if sensing this, the madness inside Bashaliia flared brighter, stoked by her defeat—or maybe it was due to a new threat winging toward them.

Past Daal’s shoulder, a golden glow bloomed. Another had recognized the danger and rushed over to help, drawn by a shared bond.

Nyx stiffened.

No, Pyllar, stay back.

Daal echoed the same, his head lolling to Nyx’s shoulder. “No…”

Both were ignored.

As Pyllar approached, Bashaliia reared up. The Myr bat was twice the size of the smaller raash’ke. A scream of rage burst from Bashaliia’s throat.

Still, Pyllar clawed closer, one wing beating weakly.

Daal’s grip tightened on Nyx. “Save him,” he begged hoarsely. “Save them both. Even if it means my life.”

Nyx recognized the bond the two shared. Daal had expressed as much only moments ago. She saw it now, too. Blinded from all else, she could finally tease out those wisps that wound rider to mount, a joy that Daal had only begun to experience.

Still, she refused to take more from him, to risk his life.

Not even to spare Pyllar.

With great regret, she returned her focus to the golden anchor in the emerald storm. She did her best to bolster its hold, but she could not get that glow to shine any brighter, to withstand that storm.

Bashaliia lifted higher, his wings battering against the rafters. He was about to dive upon Pyllar, to destroy that tender new bond.

Nyx stiffened.

That bond…

She cast her shrouded gaze lower, noting again the twining connection between Pyllar and Daal—not just to the man, but also to what he represented.

She again reached deep into Daal’s cold and empty wellspring, praying she was right. She remembered Jace extinguishing the life of the kezmek, then following the cords that bound the creature to its master, where life was sucked from the assassin.

Could the same hold true here?

She searched inside Daal.

Please…

Then she found it, where this new bond tied rider and mount together. With Daal as a conduit, she drew upon that link. She sang to Pyllar’s heart, begging for his grace, reminding the raash’ke that Daal needed him.

Pyllar heard.

Through that bond, golden fire flooded into her.

As it did, a cascade of memories and sensations rushed through her: sweeping over ice as a young bat, tasting torn flesh. She felt the weight of a saddle, at first cumbersome, then joyous in its promise. It all blurred into one, a lifetime in the passage of a heartbeat.

Daal gasped, sharing the same.

Nyx had no more time. She gathered all that love and life and sang its golden beauty up to Bashaliia. The Myr bat loomed high, limned in emerald fire. The fading anchor flared brighter, becoming a sun. The radiance outshone the emerald flames, driving them down, tamping that madness.

She continued her song, focusing on one memory now.

Their earliest together.

She softened her chords, burnishing a past nearly forgotten. She sang of the safety of a shared nest, of warm wings enfolding them both, of sweet milk, and of a mother’s heartbeat through thick fur.

She lifted her chorus, along with a beckoning arm toward her brother.

Come back to me.

And finally, he did.

Bashaliia’s frantic struggles died along with that emerald fire. As he settled back to the planks, he sagged into himself, trembling, frightened by what had happened.

She rushed over to console him, while Daal pushed heavily to his feet. He stumbled over to Pyllar to do the same.

Overhead, furious shouts and the clang of steel echoed down to them.

While this battle in the hold had ended, a larger one still raged.

Daal met Nyx’s eyes, looking to her for guidance.

She gripped a fistful of Bashaliia’s fur. While she had doused that emerald fire from her brother’s heart, some of that fury had touched hers.

And maybe some of the madness.

So be it.

She swung her gaze up to the fighting.

“Let’s show those bastards the true heart of this dragon.”