Page 17

CHAPTER 8

“Hundreds?” I repeated, horrified. “Surely not.”

Though it would certainly fit with what that rider had said before he’d died.

Ezu was the most distant of the Jakarran Islands, and a good day’s sailing away from the other four. It was also relatively small, being only a fraction larger than Halcraft or Zergon. Unlike those two, or indeed any of the other islands, it wasn’t blessed with volcanic caverns, having been formed from a deep undersea eruption. It was instead half covered by thick forests, but that would offer Ezu’s people little protection from the riders or their ground forces—especially given what had almost happened to the escapees from Kinara.

“The weather was apparently foul,” Jarin said. “And the captain was running without lights because of the recent reports of pirates in the area?—”

“The pirates likely being ships belonging to the riders,” I cut in.

Jarin nodded. “It was luck that they even saw the birds—it was a combination of a flash of lightning and a barrelman with a long viewer pointed the right way.”

“Hard to be a good judge of numbers from such a distance and in the dark,” I said.

“Indeed,” my father said. “But I think his ‘the entire island seemed washed in gold’ comment is evidence enough that there is a sizable force building there.”

“But why? Ezu doesn’t give their riders a good base from which to attack,” I said. “It’d have to be a good day’s flight from there, and that wouldn’t give them the necessary time to inflict true damage on us before daylight sweeps in.”

“They hold Jakarra, remember,” Mom said softly. “And that is close enough.”

“Has Jakarra reported any such build-up?”

“Not as yet.”

“This is another possibility.” I swept a finger along the northern shores of Mareritten. “These two ports are within flight range of both Esan and Ezu. Our captive might have said there were only three docked there, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be more by now.”

“True, which is why I have approved your request to fly across Mareritten tomorrow.” My father’s gaze fell on me. “It is a scouting mission, nothing more, unless attacked. Understood?”

“Understood, Commander.” Whether the drakkons would was another matter entirely. I dropped the packs containing the armor on the floor. “We collected some rider armor from Hopetown; thought our mages and smiths can use for weapon development.”

“They definitely can.” My father motioned a soldier forward and added, “Take these to Franklyn immediately.”

“And you, commander, should go bathe and rest,” my mother said. “It will be another long flight over Mareritten tomorrow.”

The amused gleam in her eyes that accompanied her light emphasis on the word “rest” suggested she was well aware that wasn’t likely to happen. Not for a few hours, anyway.

“Can you arrange for Kele and Hannity to be informed that we fly out two hours after dawn? That should give our drakkons plenty of time to hunt.”

My father nodded. I saluted them both then spun on my heels and headed out. No light tubes gleamed along the walls, and the guards were little more than well-armed shadows. The palace had been locked down for the night, but the guards once again opened the side door for me. I half ran, half limped up the stairs and headed toward my rooms. As I neared, I felt the soft caress of Damon’s magic. He had indeed shielded this area against his aunt’s intrusions.

I opened the door and quietly stepped inside, my gaze sweeping the room. A large pot of shamoke steamed away on the table, which also held several platters of bread, cheese, and meats. Or, at least, the remnants of them.

He was asleep on the sofa, head resting back on the cushions, a quill on the cushion underneath his hand and its tablet resting on his lap. He was wearing breeches, but his feet and his chest were bare, and all I wanted to do was walk over and run my fingers over all the magnificence on display.

But given how badly I no doubt smelled, it was probably better if I bathed first.

I stripped off, tossed my clothes into the laundry chute, then ran the bath. His soft snores filled the room, evidence of how deeply he slept. Disappointment lightly stirred, and I couldn’t help but smile. Who knew that one could fall so deeply in lust in such a short amount of time?

I grabbed the soapweed—a stronger, gingery-vanilla one this time to counter the heavy drakkon scent—and set to scrubbing my body and hair clean. He barely even stirred. Once I’d dried off and brushed my hair out, I padded barefoot and naked over to where he lay. The tablet’s cursor was blinking, meaning whoever held the quill’s matching pair remained active. On the screen were the words, it will be extremely dangerous.

Had they been talking about the spell, or something else?

I had no idea, and as much as I wanted to send back a message and ask, I didn’t. Not only would that be a breach of trust, but possibly dangerous given the little he’d said about his home situation. I carefully lifted the tablet from this lap, placed it on the table, then grabbed a blanket and lightly spread it over him.

Then I went to bed and slept, just as Mom had ordered—something neither she nor I had expected.

* * *

I woke the next morning with Damon’s naked length pressed against mine, his arm lightly resting over my left hip, and his breath whispering past my ear. I’d obviously been so soundly asleep that I hadn’t stirred when he’d joined me in bed. Which wasn’t really surprising—riding, whether courser or drakkon, was surprisingly strenuous, especially when you were doing it for more than six hours at a time.

At least, that was when I always hit the wall, weariness wise.

I didn’t immediately move. I simply enjoyed this moment of quiet closeness while I still could... and really, really didn’t want to examine that particular thought, and I definitely didn’t want to acknowledge the growing suspicion that this might be the only moment we got for quite a while.

From the courtyard outside came the everyday noises that accompanied the palace and its people waking for the day, and, far more distant but still surprisingly clear, came the sharp call of a blackhawk on the wing. If they were out hunting, then day had well and truly risen.

Has , came Kaia’s thought. We hunt.

Eat up big, because we’ve another long day’s flight ahead of us, I’m afraid.

Kill more gilded ones?

It’s just a scouting mission right now.

Better kill.

I agree, but I have orders.

Me not.

I half smiled. No, but we are working together to get rid of this threat, are we not?

Still should kill.

We’ll see what happens when we get there.

She didn’t reply, but only because she’d spotted a fat capra and had swooped to claim it.

As my stomach rumbled a loud reminder that it hadn’t eaten anything for an indecently long amount of time, I carefully edged away from Damon.

His grip almost instantly tightened, and in a warm, almost languid voice he said, “And where do you think you’re going, my dear wife?”

“I need to pee, and I need to eat, and I have a flight out over Mareritten I need to get ready for.”

“How urgent is the need to pee on a scale of one to ten? Ten being ‘if you don’t release me now I’m going to wet this bed.’”

“About a three,” I replied, amused. “Why?”

“Because it is unseeming for a wife—or indeed a husband, because this relationship is all about equality—to leave a bed without kissing their partner good morning.”

“Is kissing going to lead to sexing?”

“That would be my preference, yes.”

I laughed, turned in his arms, and kissed him, long and lingering. He slid his hand down my spine to my butt, then lightly pulled me closer. His erection pressed against my belly, hard and heated, and the deep down well of wanting that I’d been successfully ignoring up until then exploded.

From that moment on, there was little talk, but there was a whole lot of exploration and a mind-blowing culmination. How the hell it was possible for sex with this man to get better each and every time, I had no idea, but long may it continue.

While he ordered breakfast, I took a quick bath, then got dressed. Our meal arrived just as I was tugging on my boots, and the sharp smell of shamoke had me hurrying over. I thanked the servant as she left the room, then sat down and poured us both a drink. The quill pen and its tablet, I noted, were nowhere to be seen.

“Did you have any luck talking to your people back on Angola?”

“Some.” He handed me a bowl of the creamy pottage, then spooned out a second for himself. “There’s definitely a spell that could work, but everything we’ve uncovered so far says it comes with some rather life-altering consequences.”

Did that explain the warning I’d seen on the tablet last night? Maybe. Probably. The problem was instinct, which was saying no.

“Consequences are to be expected, given we’re not only dealing with magic but trying to transfer an innate psychic talent from one being to another.”

“Except it’s not as simple as transferring a talent.”

I didn’t think it would be, but I nevertheless asked, “Why not?”

“The writings we’ve uncovered imply that it’s a more universal and equal transfer—that for every ability you give to her, one of hers will be transferred to you.”

I contemplated that for several seconds as I ate my pottage. “Does that mean I will become more drakkon-like?”

“It won’t alter flesh—you will physically remain as you are—but it could well leave you with drakkon-like attributes such as quick healing and a longer lifespan.”

I smiled. “I can’t see a downside in that.”

“What it gives it may well take. Her lifespan may well be shortened to compensate.”

“Then that is something we need to tell her. Only she can decide whether gaining fire is worth losing life years over.”

“Of course, and in truth, there is no certainty about any of this. The spell, as far as we have been able to uncover, was only performed once, and the results were... unsatisfactory.”

“In what way?”

He grimaced. “It didn’t really explain, though there was a note in another book that suggested the spell invalidated both parties.”

“Invalidated? What the hell does that mean? That they both died or what?”

“I have no idea.” He picked up his shamoke and took a drink. “Though I would think that, in this context, it might mean cancelled.”

“Meaning their native abilities were cancelled?”

“Again, no idea, which is why I asked for them to look deeper before we attempt the spell. The last thing I want right now is you being dead or cancelled.”

I half smiled. “The last thing I want right now is to be dead or cancelled.”

“At least we agree on that.” He finished his pottage and put the bowl on the table. “There’s also the physical consequences to consider. A deeply invasive spell such as this could easily drain most of your strength and leave you unconscious for at least a day, if not more.”

“And Kaia? How will it affect her?”

Amusement twisted his lips. “You’re always more concerned for her safety than your own.”

“Gria’s already lost her brother—I don’t want to take her mother away as well.”

“I suspect that if there was no Gria to take into consideration, your concern would still fall on Kaia’s side.”

“I suspect you might be right,” I replied with a smile.

He picked up his shamoke and leaned back. “What’s on the agenda today?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I take it, given you didn’t answer the question, that you have no idea how it’ll affect Kaia?”

“I daresay it’ll affect her in the same way as you, but again, nothing is certain in any of this. If it were my choice?—”

“But it’s not,” I cut in softly. “It’s hers and mine.”

“And the other drakkons’ and their riders’.”

“Indeed, but do you honestly think any of them would refuse?”

His lips twisted. “No, because they are as crazy as you.”

“And you’re stuck with that crazy, I’m afraid.”

“I can’t be sad about that,” he said, echoing my earlier comment.

I smiled. “To answer your question, we’re flying over Mareritten to see if our gilded riders have ships docked at Mareritten ports.”

“They have several, so that is likely to be another long day.”

Did he sound a little relieved, or was that my imagination? “What’s on your agenda?”

“More back and forth about the spell.” He shrugged. “As I’ve said, while we have the basics, I want to be absolutely sure we’ve done everything we can to stop anything going awry.”

“Because it will be extremely dangerous?” I said, echoing what I’d seen on the screen last night.

Something flickered through his eyes—an awareness that I’d seen what had been written. But all he said was, “Indeed it will be.”

And once again that nagging feeling he wasn’t talking about the spell rose.

I really, really wanted to ask for an explanation, but what was the point? He’d only deny anything else was going on, for reasons he’d already explained. Besides, he was no doubt also thinking that the less I knew, the less his aunt could steal from me.

And I couldn’t argue against that, even if I wanted to.

I drained my shamoke, then put the cup on the table and rose. “I’d better get going.”

He nodded. “Be careful up there.”

“Be careful plotting,” I said.

Again, that flicker. Again, no explanation was forthcoming.

Frustration surged anew, but I pushed it away, collected my weapons and my packs, and headed out.

The halls were abuzz with movement and sound, and the scent of freshly baked breads combined with the faintest touch of ginger and spice was so strong in the air that, despite the fact I’d already eaten, my stomach rumbled. I couldn’t resist the temptation and followed my nose down to the kitchen. Trail rations were all well and good, but nothing— nothing —ever beat fresh-out-of-the-oven bread. Especially when it was Hutzelbrot, a thick and heavy loaf that was jam-packed with dried fruits and had a delicate gingery-cinnamon flavor. Candra—our chief baker—generally only made it when ginger had come into season.

She turned as I entered the overpoweringly hot room and gave me a wide smile. “Wondered how long it would take you to follow your nose down here, Princess. You never used to miss baking day when you were younger.”

I grinned. “I think it fair to say I practically lived for Hutzelbrot season when younger, and I definitely consumed more than my fair share.”

She laughed. “Aye, I think you did. How many do you need today?”

“Three, please. We’re off on a day-long scout.”

She slapped her hands together to get rid of the excess flour covering them, then walked over to where the racks of various breads stood. “Had another visitor in here earlier.”

There was something in the way she said that that had my instincts twitching. “Not one of the usual Hutzelbrot thieves, I’m taking it?”

“No, this one was sneaking around, looking for the entrance into the servants’ tunnels. Rude woman; Zephrine origins, I’m thinking.”

There was only one fitting that description staying here right now, and that was Gayl. “Did you ask her why she was looking for it?”

The why was pretty obvious—she was trying to find a way around Damon’s protection barriers—but it had to be asked, or Candra would think it odd. Of course, none of the tunnels to the upper floors ran into our suites—for security reasons—instead opening into the hall, close to our rooms but in full sight of the guards stationed there. But there was a network of tunnels between the walls throughout the ground floor that catered to the banquet and various smaller dining rooms, and a number of them ran right underneath both my suite and my parents’.

If Damon’s spell only encompassed the walls, and not the ceiling and floor, then it was very possible she could still listen in to our conversations

“Of course I did,” Candra was replying. “Got no time for sneaks obviously up to no good. She claimed she heard rodents in the walls and wanted to check the tunnels. The affront of the woman, thinking I’d allow those dirty animals to run about.”

“Hard to believe indeed.” I paused. “Can the door into the tunnels be locked?”

She hesitated. “Please excuse the bluntness, Princess, but it’d be fucking inconvenient, given we’re never sure when your family or your guests will scribe down for food.”

“Then I’ll have a guard placed here in case she appears again.”

“I thought she was a guest?” Candra wrapped the three loaves separately in oil-treated cotton to give them additional protection if it rained, then placed them all in hessian sacks for easier carrying and handed them to me.

“She is, but that doesn’t give her the right to be going wherever she wants.” I raised the sacks. “Thanks for these.”

“Welcome, Princess. You want a loaf sent up with breakfast tomorrow?”

“If you could, I would love it.”

She laughed. “Done. Enjoy your day, Princess.”

“Thanks, Candra.” I turned and headed back out, but hesitated once I’d reached the foyer. I really had to get going, because the later we left, the closer it would be to night when we returned. But if I didn’t warn Damon about his aunt, and his machinations reached his father’s ears, subsequently placing people in danger, I wouldn’t forgive myself. I swore softly and ran back up the stairs to our room.

Damon was squatting in the middle of the floor, examining the tablet he held in one hand while chalking various symbols onto the stone with the other. I stopped in the doorway and frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Practicing.” If he was at all put out by my sudden reappearance, it didn’t show. But maybe that nebulous connection neither of us were verbally acknowledging had already warned him. “What did you forget? And what is that gorgeous smell?”

“Got some Hutzelbrot from the kitchen, which is where I learned your aunt was trying to get into the servant tunnels. If your protection spell doesn’t cover the floors and ceilings, you need to extend it—today.”

“I will but?—”

“Sorry, I have no time for buts.” I paused. “What are you practicing?”

“Spell craft. I thought you were in a hurry?”

“I am.” And I had vague suspicion he was in a hurry to get rid of me. Or maybe that was just my paranoia showing. “Talk later.”

I left, slamming the door behind me. The noise echoed, and the door to my parents’ suite opened. My father stepped out and strode toward me, a long cup of what smelled like shamoke in one hand.

“Lovers’ tiff?” he said as we headed down the stairs together.

“No. I’m just running late.”

“Considering you’re supposed to meet your fellow scouts in five minutes, I would say late is an understatement.”

“I know.” I waited until we were out in the courtyard and hopefully beyond Gayl’s range, and quickly told him what I’d discovered.

Annoyance flickered across his features. “I’ll order the dust covers to be placed over all furniture in the pertinent rooms and have them locked. We won’t be using them anytime in the foreseeable future anyway, as most of our trading partners have been warned of the danger and are keeping clear until we give the go-ahead again.”

Which meant that if these attacks did develop into a war, certain commodities were going to become scarce. East Arleeon’s rich farmlands could provide the basics, and the west had plenty of woods and mines to supply the smiths and fletchers with all the raw materials necessary for making weapons, but there was plenty we didn’t make—like shamoke.

A shortage of that was nightmare material in itself.

“Oh,” he added, “please do remember what I said about not attacking. We don’t need to be prompting a retaliatory attack until we have some means of combating their weapons.”

“I understand, but if we are attacked, we will respond.”

“If you’re attacked, I expect you to destroy them.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “You do know that, in theory, I could just claim we were attacked and destroy the bastards anyway.”

“Yes, but you’re generally a bad liar, and guilt would soon have you confessing the truth anyway.”

I laughed, rose on my toes, and kissed his cheek. “That is a statement I can’t argue with. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Aye,” he said, lightly touching my cheek. “Keep safe.”

I nodded, saluted, then ran down to the gates that led to the mountain path. Kele and Hannity were already waiting.

Kele eyed the sacks I was carrying with something close to avarice in her expression. “Are they what I think they are?”

“It is indeed.”

“I think I love you.”

Hannity’s gaze flicked between us. “Why? What’s in the sacks?”

“Hutzelbrot,” Kele replied, with a dreamy expression. “Once eaten, never forgotten.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” She took a deeper breath. “It smells like bread.”

“It is an affront to call Hutzelbrot mere bread.” I handed them each a sack. “You’ll have to eat on the wing, because we can’t risk landing in Mareritten for any longer than it takes to pee.”

Hannity raised her loaf and sniffed. “ Oh . I think I get it now.”

I smiled. “Wait until you taste it. Let’s go.”

We moved as fast as my still-healing leg would allow up the mountain path. Though the morning had started out fine, by the time we reached the halfway point, the wind had whipped up and dark clouds were gathering. Thankfully, the storm held off until we reached the tunnel, but if it didn’t clear as quickly as it arrived, it was going to be a miserable day’s flying.

As it turned out, it was worse than miserable.

By the time we reached the first of Mareritten’s ports on the far side of the continent, my jacket had given up any pretense of being waterproof, and moisture leaked steadily down my spine and between my breasts. My boots remained dry, but only because I was pushing heat to my extremities in an effort to avoid frostbite. I could have flamed hot enough to keep the worst of the moisture off my skin, of course, but I had no idea what lay ahead and no desire to risk burning myself out.

The drakkons were not in a better mind space. On days like this, they would normally have been hunkered down in their warm aeries to wait out the weather; the only thing that kept them flying on now was the possibility of hunting gilded birds.

Thankfully, the rain eased off by the time we reached the far side of Mareritten. Though the low blanket of gray remained, it at least provided us with some cover while not totally blocking our ability to see the ground.

The first port—L’Gon, which apparently meant backwater according to a trader familiar with the place—lived up to its name. There were neither birds nor ships visible through the long viewer, and the three piers were definitely in a state of disrepair, with large slabs of wooden planking missing from two while the third had a rather calamitous lean. Either this port was no longer in use or the Mareritt didn’t care about it enough to keep it in top condition.

After a brief scout around the surrounding area, we flew east, following the wild and rugged coastline to K’Anor, the second but by far the largest Mareritten port.

Unlike the first port, it teemed with life. There were six boats docked, and on the masts of five the gilded riders’ flag fluttered. The flag on the sixth boat was blue and white, with a yellow sun in the middle. I had no idea what nation it belonged to, but Harris, our master of the fleet, probably would.

The gilded riders—or rather, their land-based counterparts, as their leather clothing was the same strange green as their hair—moved with ease through the seaport, ferrying crates and packages to the various holding buildings. The Mareritt were also here in numbers, but what caught my eye were the two squat towers that sat at either side of the harbor’s entrance, and the third located atop the two-story storage building situated in the middle of the main port area.

Those towers had large metal tubes attached to them.

The same sort of tubes the Mareritt had been constructing near the Barrain Ghost Forest. These were larger and undoubtedly more dangerous, not only because of the greater volume of acidic shit—or whatever the Mareritten equivalent actually was—they could spray at one time but because they appeared to be mounted on a base that could swivel, enabling them to track a fleeing target.

This was not a good development.

We no attack , came Kaia’s thought. Too dangerous.

Surprise flitted through me. I hadn’t expected her to be so reasonable.

Not foolish. She paused. Yara might be.

Tell her if she attacks, she loses her flamer.

There was a pause. She want flamer. No attack.

Good. Tell her and Rua we’ll sweep around and see if there’s any gilded birds in the area.

We did a slow turn right and flew beyond the edges of the port, but there was nothing to suggest the birds, or their riders, had ever landed here. We continued on, out over the semi-barren countryside. There were plenty of long hillsides with flat tops that would have been perfect for a squad—a swoop?—of gilded birds but again, there was nothing to be seen but brown soil, dying summer plants, and the prickly yellow trees that grew so abundantly in this area.

It didn’t make sense.

K’Anor provided the perfect launching place for a flighted attack. It was within a night’s flight of Esan, it would allow them to hit us in the pre-dawn hours, and it would still give them time to retreat back to whatever roosts they’d set up near the Beak or their other watch stations.

Of course, it was possible that, given the Mareritt were building up their presence in the wasteland, they intended to use that area as a staging point. But if that were the case, we would have had reports of it. Our scout teams were still going out, despite the growing danger.

But perhaps the answer was simpler than that. The Mareritt were a warrior race, and as a result had few allies—even those who traded with them on a regular basis did so cautiously. While there was undoubtedly good money to be made—or so the traders who also dealt with us claimed—it came with the risk of the Mareritt randomly deciding to take and kill rather than trade. They didn’t often, of course. The Mareritt might be arrogantly sure of their superiority over all other races, but their part of the continent could not supply all that they needed to survive, just as ours couldn’t—though we did have the advantage of more fertile soils.

All of which meant that perhaps the riders didn’t trust the Mareritt enough to reside in their lands, or maybe—just maybe—the Mareritt were wary of them.

But if the riders weren’t here, where in Vahree’s name were they? They might be building their presence on Ezu, but that really couldn’t be their main base. It was just too far away from Esan to be practical. And while Jakarra was a definite possibility, Mom had already said there’d been no report of an increase there.

What do now? came Kaia’s thought as the drakkons continued to widen their circles.

I hesitated. Let’s follow the coastline home and see what’s happening along the Black Glass peaks.

Take longer.

Yes, but we need to know where those birds are roosting.

If know where, we attack?

When we have an idea of their numbers, and better weapons than just the three of us, yes.

We need fire.

Damon’s working on it.

Needs hurry.

He’s worried about the danger.

Gilded ones danger. We need weapon.

The spell that gives you fire could bind our life forces.

What life force?

I hesitated again. It’s the spirit, the energy, that gives us both life. By combining our energies to give you flame, it might also pass on to me your resistance to magic and a longer life. But in doing that, it could shorten yours.

No want shorten.

Which is why we can’t proceed until we understand more about the risks for us both. Let’s fly home.

She passed on the new flight directions to Yara and Hannity, and we flew west, keeping in the lower streams of clouds so that I could still see the ground through the long viewer, but we weren’t as immediately obvious to a casual glance around. As the barren countryside gave way to long beaches lined by cliffs, the weather closed in again. We banked and headed south. The distant, rugged outline of the Black Glass Mountains was a barely visible blot in the rain, but gradually grew ever larger as the hours passed with unbearable slowness. Not even eating the few remaining chunks of now damp Hutzelbrot lifted my mood.

Dusk was closing in—though the only reason I could tell was thanks to the rain easing, allowing the faintest glimmer of warmth to stain the underbellies of the clouds—when I caught a soft flicker of light. It wasn’t coming from the formidable mountains to our right but from the deeper seas to our left. There were no major islands out there, and no reason for boats to be out. Not in this area, and definitely not this late in the afternoon, anyway. The Throat of Huskain might still be a good distance away, but the seas underneath us remained treacherous.

The pale light swept across the gathering darkness, then disappeared again.

Was it a signal? Or something else?

I had no idea, but we definitely needed to investigate. I asked Kaia to pass on our change of course to the other drakkons, then signaled to Kele and Hannity.

We swung right and flew toward the intermittent light, remaining high so there was less chance of anyone seeing us if that light was some kind of watch station. As the darkness grew deeper, the sweeping light grew brighter, and the closer we got to it, the more evident it became that there were shapes clustered around it. Not boats, more... barges? They were extremely long, but wide, and flat, and… my stomach sank. At least one was crowded with shadows that gleamed gold in each turn of that light.

As we drew closer, the barges became visible; only one was filled with gilded birds, while a second held the longer versions of the metal tents I’d seen before and obviously housed the riders. The other two barges were currently empty.

There were probably a good thirty to forty birds roosting on that one barge, though, and that many could certainly decimate Esan’s mighty walls. When the others arrived... perhaps from Ezu... well, they really could fill our skies with gold.

I wearily scrubbed a gloved hand across my wet face. There was nothing we could do right now. Not against so many birds. Not when the four barges had long tubes mounted at either end of them and guards at the ready. For our flames to be effective, we’d have to fly far too close to either of the barges, and even at full speed, would provide easy targets for those fucking tubes. The drakkons were just too big to miss at close range.

Why we need flames , Kaia commented. Could burn from height.

Damn it, Kaia, we’re fucking working on it! I sucked in a breath and released it slowly. Sorry, I’m not angry at you.

Just the situation, our impotency, and the escalation of a threat for which we seemed to have no answer.

Know , she said. Understand.

Thank you. Let’s go home before this lot gets wind of us and rise.

Would not be good.

No . We might have bested five of them, but we would never win against nearly tenfold that number. Tell the others we’re leaving .

I once again signaled as Kaia passed the order on. Kele, who was closer, sent an affirmative, but Hannity didn’t. Maybe, with the gathering darkness, she was simply too far away to see.

We really, really needed to work on a better means of communication, though I was not entirely sure there was anything better than scribe quills and tablets at the moment, and at the speed the drakkons were often going, they were simply impractical.

Maybe Damon could work something into his spell. If all riders could talk to their drakkons, it would be a whole lot easier to pass messages around.

Yara rumbled unhappily as we looped around and flew once again toward the peaks we couldn’t see. There was no response from Rua.

I twisted around, caught the glint of red scales caught in the light as she swooped toward the barge holding the riders. The birds looked up and squawked sharply, the noise deafening in the stillness of the gathering night. Men scrambled out of metal tents in various stages of undress, most running across the various planks linking the barges while a few aimed smaller tubes at the descending drakkon.

Rua banked sideways, and Hannity unleashed her flames, sweeping them across the barge, setting alight several of the men. But they were too far away for Hannity’s fire to melt the tents, and not precise enough to explode the tubes. And Rua was too low, too close to the barges, and far too close to the larger tubes now aiming her way.

Kaia roared an order to retreat even as I screamed mentally at her. Rua shook her head, as if in denial, then cut to the left, smashing her tail against the end of the boat and the tube built there. As metal cracked and men scrambled out of the way, the bolts holding the thing onto the barge lifted from the decking, and the whole tube toppled, almost in slow motion, into the sea. Hannity unleashed more fire at the dark liquid spilling across the deck and set it alight, but as the fire chased the liquid along the length of the barge, the guards stationed on the other barges unleashed their deadly weapons.

Help her, came Yara’s metal scream. Must.

Go no closer, I yelled back, physically and verbally. They’ll just hit us—and we’re no good to either of them if we can’t fly out of here. Kaia, bank left.

She immediately did, and I unleashed a stream of fire so hot it shone blue and white in the night. I whipped it around the bobbing light onto which the barges were tied and destroyed it. As the surrounding area dropped into darkness, I spread my fingers and sprayed the flames across the other three boats, trying to get at least a couple of the tubes—big and small—that were firing the liquid shit at Rua and Hannity.

I hit several, exploding them, but I didn’t hit them all. Five larger ones remained.

Two of those five unleashed a second round of liquid. Rua banked away from them, rising hard and fast, her wings a blur. My heart lodged somewhere in my throat, hoping against hope she would make it.

She didn’t.