Page 34 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons (Empire of Vengeance #4)
T he sun hung low on the western horizon, casting long shadows through the forest canopy far below as our small formation of eleven dragons flew steadily eastward.
What remained of our supplies was strapped to the dragons' harnesses—a pitiful collection of salvaged goods that represented all we'd been able to recover from the devastating attack on our baggage train.
I guided my mount in a steady rhythm, trying to project the calm confidence that my riders expected from their Wing Commander, but my mind was churning with dark possibilities.
The Talfen had struck our supply lines with surgical precision, hitting us exactly when we were most vulnerable and too far from the main force to receive support.
That kind of tactical awareness didn't come from luck or happenstance—it spoke of careful planning and intelligence gathering that made my skin crawl.
They knew our route. They knew our numbers, our pace, the exact composition of the rear guard. The thought was a cold knot in my stomach. Was there a traitor in our ranks? Or were their scouts simply that good?
We had marched into these lands with the arrogance of conquerors, never imagining the prey would have teeth.
The silence among my riders was heavier than any armour.
The easy confidence of the morning had been burned away with our supplies, leaving behind the raw, acrid stench of fear.
They were all young, all my age or younger, and had grown up, as I had, with tales of the demons in the north.
In the nursery we had lapped the tales up, enjoying stories of our heroes conquering the demons, defeating their evil over and over again with the mighty and righteous strength of the Empire.
Up here, the stories felt a lot more real. The setting sun wasn’t helping matters.
My gaze drifted back to Livia. She rode with a quiet competence, her eyes fixed on the horizon, but I saw the tension in the set of her jaw.
I had seen her face when the Talfen dragons struck; a flicker of wild, fierce pride she had hidden a moment too late.
She had screamed Tarshi’s name during the attack.
A raw, desperate cry that had echoed the frantic beat of my own heart.
She knew him. Knew him in his dragon form, which meant that she already knew the abhorrent truth about the true nature of the dragons.
The realisation hadn’t surprised me. Livia had always hated the Empire, hated how it treated the Talfen, I should have known there was more than principles involved.
"Sir," one of my lieutenants called out from his position in the formation, his voice carrying easily over the wind. "Those shadows down there... do they look strange to you?"
I followed his gaze toward the forest below, and felt my stomach tighten with unease.
The canopy was thick enough that we could see only glimpses of the ground beneath, but what we could see was wrong somehow.
The shadows pooled and flowed in patterns that had nothing to do with the gentle evening breeze, gathering in hollows and spreading across clearings like spilled ink.
"Trick of the light," I replied, though I didn't believe it myself. "The sun's getting low."
But even as I spoke, I could see the same unease spreading through my small formation.
The dragons were growing restless, their flight patterns becoming increasingly agitated as we passed over certain sections of forest. Sirrax, carrying Livia, kept drifting out of formation despite her obvious efforts to maintain position.
The men were no better. I could see them stealing nervous glances at the forest below, their hands moving unconsciously to check weapons and armour.
Recruits who’d laughed and cheered at the call to arms without a tremor of fear were now jumping at every shift in the wind, every shadow that moved in ways shadows shouldn't move.
I looked at the faces of the young riders around me. The patriotic fervour had vanished, replaced by a grim, weary tension. They were learning the hard lesson that war was not about glory, but about survival. And I, their commander, was leading them deeper into hell.
"Unnatural, those shadows," I heard one of them mutter to his flight partner. "Look how they shift when there's no wind to move them."
"Heard tell the Talfen can make darkness itself into weapons," another replied, his voice barely audible over the sound of beating wings. "Turn a man's own shadow against him."
I considered reprimanding them for spreading rumours that would only increase the formation's unease, but the truth was that I'd been watching those shadows myself.
They seemed to writhe and flow with a life of their own, pooling in places where no pool should exist, reaching across clearings with tendrils that looked disturbingly deliberate.
They were moving with a deliberate, predatory grace, coalescing into shapes that were too solid, too defined.
They stretched and writhed, tendrils of pure darkness reaching up from the forest floor like grasping arms. Imperia shuddered beneath me, a low growl of distress rumbling in her chest. A wave of cold washed over my skin, a primal dread that had nothing to do with the evening chill.
"Quiet in the ranks," I commanded, my voice sharper than I intended. "Fear is a worse enemy than any Talfen trickery."
Focus on the mission, I told myself firmly. Get these supplies back to the main force. Everything else is speculation and superstition.
But even as I tried to dismiss my growing unease, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. That somewhere in the darkness between the trees, eyes were tracking our flight path, counting our numbers, reporting our position to unseen commanders.
We'd been flying for perhaps three hours when the first messenger dragon appeared on the horizon, its rider pushing his mount to dangerous speeds as he raced toward our formation. The sight of a courier flying alone through hostile territory with such reckless urgency sent ice through my veins.
"Signal from the main force!" the messenger called out as he closed the distance between us. "General Cassius requires immediate assistance!"
I signalled for the formation to hold position while the courier pulled alongside, his dragon's sides heaving with exhaustion. The young rider's face was pale with more than just fatigue, and he was shaking.
"Report!" I snapped, my voice cutting through the wind. "What's happened?"
The courier swallowed hard, his eyes wide with a terror that went beyond battle-shock. "The main force... it's under attack. Talfen and dragons, sir, but that’s not all. The shadows... the gods, the shadows are alive!"
His words sent a fresh wave of fear through my wing. I saw riders exchange panicked glances, their knuckles white on their reins. "Explain," I commanded, keeping my own voice steady through sheer force of will.
“They just... rose up from the ground," the rider stammered, his words tumbling over one another.
"Tendrils of darkness, pulling men from their saddles, twisting their armour like it was wet cloth.
They're everywhere and nowhere at once. The legions are breaking, sir.
Men are screaming, fighting things they can't see, killing each other in the confusion. General Cassius sent me to bring you in. He needs every rider, every dragon.”
Every instinct screamed at me to turn, to fly in the opposite direction and take my small, green command with me.
To take Livia somewhere safe. But I could see the General's strategy with sickening clarity: he was throwing bodies at the problem, hoping sheer numbers could overwhelm an enemy he didn’t understand.
My wing was just more fodder for the grinder.
My gaze met Livia’s across the formation. There was no fear in her eyes, only a grim, burning certainty. She knew what this was. She was ready. And in that moment, I hated her for it, because her courage made my own agonizing indecision feel like cowardice.
“Wing Commander?” my lieutenant asked, his voice strained.
I looked at the terrified faces of my men, then back at the messenger. My father’s threat echoed in my mind—the lives of thousands held hostage against my obedience. I had no choice. I never had.
“We answer the summons,” I commanded, my voice a dead thing. “Formation, advance at speed. For the Empire.”
The flight to the valley was a nightmare of growing dread and darkening skies.
Below us, the forest seemed to pulse with malevolent life, shadows moving in patterns that suggested intelligence and purpose.
Our dragons grew increasingly agitated the closer we came to our destination, their flight patterns becoming erratic despite their riders' best efforts to maintain formation.