Page 13 of Queen of Legends and Lies (Dragons of Tirene #4)

Chapter Eleven

Like a growing storm cloud in the moonlit sky, a horde of drachen soars toward us. Red eyes gleam. Razor-sharp teeth gnash. Leathery black wings pound the air into submission, each heartbeat bringing the creatures of nightmares closer.

Appendages snake up out of their oily bodies. Except these arms aren’t black like the rest of them. They’re pale and brown and olive and bronze.

“Terro’s stones.” By the sheer horror on Agnar’s face, our understanding dawned at the same time.

An army of corrupted rides these drachen. And it’s headed straight for us.

I urge the dragons to stay out of range.

At first, resistance floods the bond. They want to fight, especially Mygist, who’s spent too many years of his life being tortured by the Aclarians.

But I cannot—will not—risk having them near these abominations. The thought of losing these dragons sours my stomach.

Agnar tenses, hand on the hilt of his sword. “I really hope Xenon isn’t here.”

“I really hope he is.” The need for vengeance roils inside me, and it becomes difficult to separate my emotions from the dragons’.

The drachen draw near, swooping down at the base of the ridge. One by one, the corrupted slide off their backs. Boots hit the ground with thuds. Free of their riders, the drachen fly away.

To scout out the area? To bring more corrupted in? And why didn’t they drop their riders off up here, closer to us? Were they afraid we’d kill them?

Not that I’m complaining.

I can’t stop to think about the winged beasts’ actions. Not when hundreds of corrupted are climbing up the mountain.

I slip an arrow from the quiver, the familiar weight settling against my palm. The bow comes next, the string taut beneath my fingers. A direct extension of my resolve.

My wings unfurl slightly—a subconscious reaction—gearing up to lift me away should the need arise.

Once this arrow flies, the real fight will start. “Ready?”

Agnar nods, grim determination on his battle-scarred face. “Always. I’ve got your back.”

The corrupted swarm over the rocky summit like a plague of locusts.

But they’re still people. Still my…no, they’re not my kinsmen. They’re the enemy in the thrall of a more powerful enemy. I can’t think of them as humans right now.

I release the first arrow.

It finds its mark. The leader crumples, falling to their death on the rocks below.

Then, almost as one, the others surge toward us with renewed frenzy, scrambling up the mountain.

I notch another arrow.

My movements are a fluid, practiced dance of death. I’ve been proficient with a bow since I was a child.

Steadying my breathing, I draw, release, and draw again.

The bowstring sings a lethal lullaby.

No matter where I point, the shaft finds a target among the encroaching horde. Eventually, I run out of arrows.

“Use your magic!” Agnar shouts as he summons roots to trip the attackers. A few fall. Most keep coming.

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. The molten core of my power geysers upward.

Flames lick my fingers, spiraling into funnels that scorch the night and force back those who dare to approach.

The corrupted hiss, darting to the sides.

Beside me, Agnar gestures, his broad hands shaping the very mountain beneath us, commanding it to obey. Stones dislodge, gathering momentum as they cascade down the narrow path, crushing dozens under their weight.

Boulders become Agnar’s army.

More follow, and through sheer will, he crafts an avalanche of destruction, each impact a testament to his strength.

Above us, Kaida and Mygist circle. While they agreed not to land, they never said they wouldn’t fight.

Firey death pours from their maws as the dragons unleash their fury.

Bodies drop like flies.

Yet for each one we fell, three more take their place.

“Gods above and below.” My heart’s racing, and my fingers are already worn. “How many did Xenon send? Is there another wave coming?”

I risk a glance at Agnar.

His piercing blue eyes mirror my determination. Together, we stand against the night, two warriors bound by loyalty and the desperate need to protect our kingdom from this ever-advancing corruption.

“Guessing tears won’t help here?” Agnar’s voice cuts through my sizzling fire. “Ya know, to cure them so they fight on our side instead?”

“I’m too angry to cry,” I manage to yell back, even as I hurl another fireball at a corrupted who’s gotten way too close for comfort.

Truth is, my body—dehydrated for some unfathomable reason—cries out for moisture, but not a single teardrop could save this multitude anyway.

“Even if I could, there’s way too many of them. ”

I would have to cry a river to cleanse this throng.

Cold fingers wrap around my ankle, yanking me down, and I hit the ground hard.

The breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh as I gape at the black-eyed face that once belonged to a person. Still a person. Just not in their right mind.

Panic erupts and takes over.

Without thinking, I flex my wings, trying to push myself away from my assailant. The unnatural motion causes sharp pain to burst through them, indicating I’ve strained or torn a muscle.

Agnar’s by me in an instant, pulling me away as I kick my attacker in the throat. The man, who’s dressed in basic homespun like a farmer might wear, falls back down the cliff he’d scaled to reach us.

“Thanks!” I scramble to my feet as Agnar summons his magic again.

The earth responds, and a landslide roars to life, burying the corrupted who dared to touch me and ten more behind him.

“Bonus points.” I give a shaky laugh and tuck my wounded wing tight to my back. Putting them away would take away my enhanced vision. Too risky.

The corrupted keep coming, clambering over the broken and the burning with a mindless hunger.

We’re forced to retreat, scrambling higher and backward over the uneven rocks.

“This has been a shit day,” Agnar observes with a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

I pant out a laugh while trying to find my footing. “Understatement of the century.”

“Time to get to the dragons.” Agnar retreats one more step and hurls another head-sized rock.

“I can’t. My wings…they’re busted.”

“Really not a fan of these guys,” he mutters, and with a flick of his wrists, more boulders rain down.

Yet the corrupted continue to pursue us like a relentless tide.

“There are too many.” I block his path. “Listen, you have to go. You and Kaida head to Emraldae Keep. Warn the Tír Ríogian king and then fly to Tirene. The council needs to know what happened here tonight. How the armies of corrupted fight.”

“Are you kidding me?” He steps forward, his tone lethal. “I’ll toss you up to Mygist. You’re the soon-to-be queen. They need you. I’m just a soldier. One of many.”

“No. You’re Agnar. The only one I have. And I’m not about to lose you too.”

We lock eyes, an entire conversation held in that gaze. Trust, loyalty, friendship, duty, all of it hangs between us, unspoken but understood.

I nod, and we turn as one, preparing ourselves for the next assault, knowing it might be our last stand on this mountain.

The dragons’ frustration ripples through me. They circle above, eager for us to escape. Their anxiety and irritation press into my mind like physical weights.

“Stubborn humans” is all I can imagine them saying, their ancient minds clearly vexed by our refusal to leave one another behind.

But it’s not that simple. My wings are useless, feathers askew, pain lancing through them with every movement.

The dragons can’t come close enough.

We inch backward.

Agnar continues to hurl boulders.

I cover him with a steady stream of fire.

The path behind us swarms with the corrupted, a writhing river of madness and decay. Ahead, the terrain offers no kindness, only the steep face of a cliff that promises a fall to certain death.

The trail running along the cliff’s edge narrows, allowing for single-file passage at best. It’s a death trap, designed to be defensible, but has now just become another obstacle in our desperate retreat.

And the corrupted don’t understand self-preservation. They’ll pursue us until they slip off the edge like broken dolls, driven by whatever darkness has taken hold within them.

Reaching back, I find my quiver, only to remember it’s empty.

Sentry cutouts dot the cliffside like sinister eyes. They should be manned by Tír Ríoga’s vigilant and ready soldiers. Instead, the corrupted spill from them, tumbling down without care or comprehension, their lives forfeit to a cause they no longer understand.

The ground beneath our feet vibrates with the impending onslaught.

“Ziva’s flames.” I regret everything. Coming here. Not waiting for more intel. Not bringing an army or even a few guards. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve gotten us into this. You never should’ve come.”

“I will always fight by your side, Lark. By Sterling’s. For as long or as little as we live. It’s my honor.”

He’s a lighthouse in this chaotic storm, and my heart leaps, because I know with every fiber of my being that he means what he says.

I glance upward in the vicinity of the dragons. Kaida and Mygist are hidden in the dark sky, but I can feel their presence.

My body buzzes with an electric current.

The sensation is heavy and dense, as if filled with rocks.

Unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

Agnar’s eyes glow, reflecting some unseen firelight. The current intensifies, transforming my muscles to stone and my veins to streams of molten lava.

The mountain heaves.

Bending my knees, I brace myself for whatever’s coming next. My balance is perfect, even as the ground trembles under us. It’s as if I’ve become part of the very soil, of the earth itself.

A swirling maelstrom of burning ash billows down from the peak, a mudslide of cinders and smoke that devours everything in its path.

Except for the outcropping we stand upon.

Corrupted screams rip through the curtain of gray death.

Heat swells around us. With a flex of my magic, I part it, keeping us safe in the middle of the incinerating flood.

“What’s happening?” Agnar points through the haze, where shadows contort and flail and bodies ignite like torches caught in a tempest.

“No idea!” It’s like we’re connected somehow, our magic intertwined. But that’s not possible.

I have no time to ponder the bizarre notion because the heavens rain fire.

Kaida and Mygist startle, veering away to dodge the unknown threat.

Boulders alight with a furious red-gold glow plummet toward the earth with a vengeance. They slam into the corrupted ranks with the wrath of a scorned god, each impact a symphony of destruction.

Agnar grabs my hand. “Gods above.”

The air itself sizzles. But there’s no time for awe.

The corrupted keep coming, their numbers seemingly endless.

“Let’s move!” Agnar pulls me away from the rapidly approaching danger.

We retreat, stepping over charred remains and dodging falling embers from above. The ground trembles beneath our feet once more, a rumbling reminder that the world is still in chaos.

We were supposed to be scouting, not kicking hornet nests.

But as the last of the boulders settle and the dust begins its slow descent back to earth, I see them.

Corrupted souls, ablaze and relentless.

They scramble over the debris like fire ants, determined, unyielding.

“I’m really starting to hate these guys!” Agnar growls beside me as he scans the growing inferno. His fingers twitch, as if he’s already missing the weight of his sword.

We’re going to be overrun at any moment.

Twin denials from the dragons pulse through our link.

I glance up in time to see black legs stretching down, sharp talons glinting in the firelight. Turning from the horde, I reach up for Mygist just as he scoops me up. The ride is shaky as he fights against the turbulence, riding the whirlwind of thermals into the sky.

Agnar doesn’t waste a moment.

He vaults into the air. With a few powerful strokes of his wings, he settles onto Kaida’s massive back.

Our dragons launch higher into the sky, cloaking us in the smoke.

And then we get the hells out of there.

We don’t slow down. We don’t speak. We don’t glance back.

I don’t even risk connecting with the dragons for fear that the drachen might pick up on my emotions, if that’s even possible. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.

Half an hour later, my heart stops thundering, and I get my breathing under control. Slowly, like I’m easing the lid off a box of venomous snakes, I lower my dampening shields.

And I wait.

Nothing seems off. I don’t sense an abominable presence. Only Mygist’s and Kaida’s emotions. Anger. Relief. Resolve. Others that are so intertwined I can’t give them a name.

“That was something,” Agnar yells, his voice carrying despite the whipping wind.

“Something” doesn’t begin to cover it, but laughter bubbles up and spills out anyway, because what else is there to do? “We survived. And we made two hells of a team. Now let’s get to Emraldae Keep to warn them. Once we’re done at the capital, we have to get out of Tír Ríoga.”

“You’ve got a coronation to attend soon, lady. It’ll be here before you know it.” He throws the words over his shoulder, light as a feather. As if we weren’t just inches from death.

The stars pierce the dark night sky like scattered gemstones, oblivious to the turmoil below. Armies march, their torches painting russet streaks across the twilight. It’s almost beautiful from up here if I don’t think too hard about what this means.

“Faster, please,” I urge Mygist, his colossal form cutting a sleek silhouette against the sky.

We glide forward, the crisp air biting at my cheeks and tousling my hair into wild disarray.

And then, I see it.

A shadow against the night. Too large and too silent to be anything crafted by human hands. A dragon? A drachen? From this distance, I can’t tell.

The creature veers westward, disappearing as suddenly as it appeared.

My heart thrums a curious beat. “Did you see that?”

“Saw it.”

“Should we?—”

“Emraldae Keep. Then home.”

Agnar’s right. We don’t have time to go chasing shadows. We’ve had our fill of danger for the night.