Page 50 of Heart Cradle (The Melrathen Saga #1)

Aeilanna and Nolenne moved like wrath given form, one cloaked in flame and steel, the other in light and spellthread.

Aeilanna lifted her hand mid-swing, and golden sigils erupted in the air around her.

Her magic flung forwards, woven tendrils lashing like whips across the battlefield, catching blades mid-air and yanking them from Avelan hands.

A wave of burning light fanned from her palm, knocking back a cluster of soldiers with a crack like splitting stone.

Spellweaver magic snapped outward in lines of heat and light, ribbons flitted, coiling and lashing like serpents.

She caught one blade mid-air and ripped it free from its wielder, the metal molten and melting.

Another thread wrapped a soldier’s throat and wrenched him back into a waiting blade.

Screivens shrieked overhead, their shadows gliding through smoke.

They plunged down with talons outstretched, tearing through Avelan lines in bursts of steel and sinew.

Dragons circled beyond, flames sputtering in great burst of heat.

An enemy battalion broke formation as one dragon unleashed a column of fire that engulfed a siege beast whole.

Smoke rolled thick across the scorched earth, drifting in waves of white and ember.

Fighters squinted through the haze, weapons raised and eyes burning.

Nolenne drove her sword through an Avelan’s gut, kicked another to the ground, and parried without missing a step.

Aeilanna spun beside her, her magic lacing through the battlefield like a loom of war, binding, burning and breaking and she wove again, this time a shield of braided light, just as a volley of dark magic struck.

The threads shimmered, absorbed the impact, and detonated outward in a pulse that shattered stone.

A wave of burning energy fanned from her palm, clearing the space ahead with a sound like cracking thunder.

?????

The sun sank behind the hills, but the battle raged into dusk.

Victory wasn’t swift, but it was earned, inch by inch that they clawed from the burning wreckage.

At last, the final enemy fell, his scream cut short as his body collapsed beside the scorched well and silence bloomed in the aftermath.

Aeilanna staggered to Nolenne’s side, both of them covered in sweat, blood, and soot, breathing hard but still standing.

Their hands found each other without words, fingers entwining through grime and ash and Nolenne leaned in, pressing their foreheads together.

“You fucking maniac,” Nolenne rasped, voice rough with smoke.

“You had to wait ‘til I was losing my mind before you began showing off.”

Aeilanna gave a broken, breathless laugh, then kissed her, desperate, black-streaked, all teeth and salt and relief. When she pulled back, her voice shook. “You didn’t lose your mind, you tore it down.”

Nolenne huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you, or I’d be furious.”

“Bullshit,” Aeilanna muttered, and kissed her again, softer this time, just a press of lips amid the ruin .

Together, they limped towards the newly secured camp. The Emberwick, Solirra, lay outside the command tent, her great head resting on her forepaws, and one massive gilded orange back paw was curled, unmistakably consciously, over a body sprawled beneath it.

Davmon, unconscious, bloody, beaten but still alive.

A low, rumbling growl vibrated in Solirra’s chest. Protective and possessive, she didn’t look at Nolenne or Aeilanna.

Her slitted eyes were trained on her captive, a silent warning to anyone who dared try to move him.

Nolenne came to a stop, she didn’t speak and she didn’t move.

A weight settled on her shoulders, part relief, part mourning, part something she didn’t have words for.

Her brother.

Her enemy.

Aeilanna squeezed her hand. “He won’t hurt anyone else,” she said softly.

Nolenne nodded once, throat too tight to speak.

Solirra blinked slowly, and ever so slightly, relaxed her claws.

The battle was over, but the war inside Nolenne’s mind had only just begun.

Emotions waged, rising and falling. She felt sick, worn and truly defeated, despite the victory.

Aeilanna approached Solirra, brushing dirt from her leathers as she moved.

The dragon’s great amber eyes locked onto her, and the growl rumbling from her chest faded into a deep, contented chuff as Aeilanna placed a hand on the curve of Solirra’s snout and leaned close.

“We’ll wash, eat, and rest for a short while,” she murmured, her voice hoarse from the shouts and smoke of battle.

“Will you keep watch over the prisoner, please?”

Solirra gave a huff that sent the edges of the tent flapping and she adjusted her massive paw slightly on Davmon’s chest, pressing slightly. “ Of course, Anna. Take your time, I’m rather enjoying this .” Solirra thrilled through her mind.

“Thank you, Sweet One.” Aeilanna pressed her cheek to the Emberwick, who softened further, nuzzling lightly into her, sniffing at a healing cut along her arm with a warbling whine.

Aeilanna chuckled, stroking the bridge of her companion’s nose. “I’m fine. Nothing permanent. Just singed, bruised, and bloody annoyed.”

Solirra’s eyes narrowed in what could only be described as a draconic pout. “ Liar .” Solirra sent to Aeilanna.

“ I promise,” Aeilanna added, grinning. “ Now, guard him well, trust no one and if he so much as twitches, you’re welcome to sit on him, with great force . ”

Solirra gave a satisfied grunt and settled herself more firmly atop her captive.

“Just don’t kill him, Sweet One!” Aeilanna called while turning back towards camp.

Nolenne was already removing her outer armour, wincing as blood-stiffened fabric peeled from a deep gash on her shoulder.

They found a spot near the edge of the encampment where a crude washing station had been rigged, buckets of warmed water over a small fire, scraps of clean cloth, and salve jars lined up on a bench. No luxuries, but enough.

Aeilanna now had time to worry about Eiran and Maeve.

Who had Xelaini been carrying, and where were they now?

Nolenne pulled her from her thoughts, a soft kiss on her mouth, whispering to her, promising eternal love, lasting peace and rest. Together, they scrubbed off dirt and blood, pausing only to hiss when water found open wounds.

Once clean, or as close as they could manage, they settled on low crates near a cooking fire, bowls of thick, smoky stew warming their hands.

The food wasn’t good, but it was hot, and neither of them had eaten all day.

“We’ll take him back through the transport stone after this,” Aeilanna said, stirring her stew slowly.

“Leave him in the keep’s holding cells, then we come back, see what survivors we can help and burn the dead properly.

Solirra can fly us back once we’re done, I don’t want her returning alone. ”

Nolenne nodded, staring into her bowl. Aeilanna tilted her head, voice low. “You with me?”

“I’m here,” Nolenne replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “I’m just relieved, well mostly. I’m grieving for my family again as well, I suppose.”

Aeilanna studied her for a long second, then bumped her knee gently against Nolenne’s. “I know sweetheart. You were brilliant today,” she said. “And brutal and you know how much I love that in you.”

A faint smirk tugged at Nolenne’s lips. “Strange, you only say that when I’m covered in blood.”

“Well,” Aeilanna drawled, lifting her spoon, “Your moral ambiguity really does it for me.”

Nolenne huffed a quiet laugh and glanced sideways. “And your melodrama does it for me, so I suppose we’re even.” They shared a soft silence, comforting and familiar .

Aeilanna leaned her head against Nolenne’s shoulder, voice barely a whisper. “We made it.”

“Barely,” Nolenne murmured.

“But we’re here together. Still, together.”

?????

They made their way through the makeshift camp.

Wounded soldiers rested, healers in lilac moved between them, and fires crackled to push back the chill, despite the summer month.

They found a vacant tent, entering it slowly, removing the last of their weapons and boots.

“I hate him,” Nolenne said. “But I don’t, not entirely. That part’s harder.”

Aeilanna wrapped a hand around hers, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You don’t have to have that figured out tonight, not ever if you don’t want to.”

“I know, thank you.”

A moment passed, Aeilanna pointed at Nolenne’s boots placed by the door with a sly smile. “Next time you want to chase your long-lost brother across a battlefield, maybe give me a warning so I can bring my good sword and you a better pair of boots.”

“Oh, they are the good ones.” Nolenne said as Aeilanna inspected the boots.

Aeilanna groaned. “We’re buying new boots. Look at the state of them. Holes, Nolenne!”

“Well I think we’ve earned them.” Nolenne chuckled.

Nolenne still sat on the cot, her eyes locked on Aeilanna’s. She beckoned her, reaching out and taking her chin between her fingers. Then she leaned in, slow and sure, pressing her lips to hers with quiet feeling. When she pulled back, her voice was low. “I wouldn’t know how to fight without you.”