Page 79 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)

Chapter Fifty-eight

Cayden

Blood splatters the white buildings and drips between stones on the street.

Smoke hangs heavy in the air, so thick you can taste it in the back of your throat.

I push onward, keeping a firm hand on the reins of the borrowed horse from the royal stables.

I quickly unsheathe a knife from my thigh and throw it, watching as it pierces the back of a Thirwen soldier chasing down a man carrying his child toward Zraka where they’ll find refuge.

Corpses line the streets—men, women, and children—the closer we get to the beach.

Catapults fire flaming rocks into the city, crumbling the buildings and crushing those fleeing for their lives.

Calithea roars above us as she locks her claws with a wyvern, shoving it beneath her while bathing it in silver flames.

I’ve seen magic wielded and known several legendary warriors, and yet I’ve never seen anything quite as powerful as Elowen mounting a beast that would bring even the bravest person in existence to their knees.

“What’s the plan?” Ryder asks as we make it to the top of the hill that leads to the vast beach, and curses when he takes in the sight. Ships as far as I can see, sand soaked with blood, and more Thirwen soldiers spilling onto the beach as they climb out of rowboats.

“Kill as many as you can and try not to die.”

The feral urge to kill and the instinct to survive flood through me, sharpening my senses to every sword around me both bloodied and sheathed.

I lead the Vareveth charge down the dune, and steel sings through the air as I lock my blade with an approaching enemy, unsheathing another knife to slice his throat beneath his helmet.

Blood shoots from the slit, spraying my face and dripping down my chin as I push forward.

The ocean splits in two as Calithea burns a line into the surface, swallowing up several rowboats as Elowen sits atop her.

An explosion shakes the ground, and I throw my arm over my eyes to keep the sand out of my gaze before unsheathing a second sword.

I swing them both, not looking as bodies hit the ground.

Everywhere I turn, there’s another enemy pressing forward, but they underestimate how much I enjoy this.

I was born for battle and bloodshed. Gore coats my clothes and skin until I look like the monster this world made me into.

A volley of arrows takes out my horse, and I jump off his back before the beast crushes my leg, quickly getting to my feet while slamming my sword through someone’s stomach. I shove them back with my boot to take on the next.

“The bastard king,” he hisses through his blood-splattered teeth as our blades lock in front of my face.

The tide laps against my boots as the waves crash against the sand.

Messing with your opponent’s mind is half the fun of battle, so I stick my tongue out, gliding it along my bloody lips instead of spitting the blood out.

I raise an unimpressed brow at the irrelevant soldier.

So much blood has been spilled it bubbles on the surface of the tide and shore.

He stumbles over a corpse floating face down when he takes a step back and unsheathes a second blade to match me, but it’s shaky in his grip.

My father once handed me a rock after I lost a fight and gave me the option to either break my right hand myself or let him do it.

I smashed my own fingers that night until they were crooked and gnarled.

He wanted me to be equally lethal with both, and it’s clear this soldier didn’t have my same training.

He lets out an unnecessary battle cry, and I knock the sword out of his weak hand, using the same blade to block his other while shoving mine through his mouth.

“In your next life, I hope you offer me more of a challenge.” Blood gurgles up his throat as I yank my blade free, letting his body bleed out and sway in the small waves.

I squint into the sky, watching Calithea flip upside down and drag her claws down the belly of a wyvern.

It doesn’t kill it, but there are so many more than last time.

I bite the inside of my cheek, unable to tear my eyes away.

They’re swarming her, and though the dragons are formidable, my heart nearly stops as I watch Elowen duck under a spiked tail with venomous points before she rears back and hacks it off with her sword.

The beast cries out, and it’s only then that I notice it doesn’t have a rider.

None of them do. I tighten my hand on the hilt of my blade and scan my surroundings.

For the mages to have the beasts in their thrall, they’d need to be close by, and I doubt they’d risk keeping them on the ships considering the graveyard of wood Elowen left behind in Port Celestria.

The wounded wyvern flies low, and despite its grave injuries, whoever is controlling it must be pushing the beast until its last breath.

Its black eyes spot me on the beach where the red tide continues lapping against me.

I chuckle under my breath as it begins flying straight at me.

Blood continues pouring from its stomach as it coasts even with the surface and pulls its black gums back to expose rows of fangs.

I swing my blades and crouch into a defensive position.

It roars in answer and snaps its sharp teeth that crave my blood.

My blades are steady as is my pulse, monster against monster, an even match.

There’s a flash of silver above and I risk glancing up, but Calithea darts away with an empty saddle.

Elowen plummets through the air with her sword raised and mouth parted in a vicious battle cry.

She slams the steel through the wyvern’s skull while landing on its back, using the hilt to keep her steady as blood sprays from the wound, painting her beautiful face in crimson streaks.

Sorin rushes to her, always the protector, and slams the wyvern from beneath her.

Elowen jumps from it as Sorin shoots forward and catches her on his back.

The wyvern crashes into the surf as Elowen hooks herself onto Sorin, and the lifeless body drifts toward me.

El looks over her shoulder and blows a kiss to me as I sheathe one of my blades to retrieve her sword from the wyvern’s corpse.

I catch the kiss after extracting the blade and press my hand to the steel, and I can’t hear her laugh from here, but I can feel it.

That’s my wife.

Forcing my mind back into battle, I notice a shadowed cove in the distance.

A small sandbar covered in rocks juts into the surf, making it the only place to hide on the beach.

I begin fighting my way toward it, submerging myself in a red haze.

I make it to the bend, and wish I could wipe my eyes, but my hands are just as bloody as my face, and I don’t want to risk releasing my weapons.

It’s quieter over here. I’m able to make out the sounds of uneven breathing as I silently creep over the rocks.

Two soldiers guard two mages kneeling in the water, and though their backs are facing me, I imagine their eyes are as white as Elowen’s when she mindwalks.

I climb down the cliff and dip my boots into the water without being noticed.

Their souls are mine to take. Their blood is mine to spill.

I move with the tide, using it to hide my footfalls as the sand sucks at my boots.

It’s too hot in this damn kingdom for armor, which makes it easier to move.

Both soldiers’ gazes are transfixed on the sky as they watch Elowen fend off the swarm.

I jam my sword through the back of the one closest to me, the blow killing him instantly.

I discard his body like a piece of driftwood and face the next.

The soldier shoots his blade forward, and I knock the pointed tip away from my torso.

He’s more skilled than the others I faced on the beach, removing a knife from his waist and slicing it through the air.

He manages to skim my bicep, but it’s not even deep enough to require stitches, and some sick part of me wishes it were, knowing Elowen would be the one to sew me up.

It also tore the shirt she gifted me when she said I needed to incorporate more color into my wardrobe.

It’s dark blue, but it’s the principle of it.

“You dumb cunt,” I mutter.

He slams his blade into mine, but I keep hold and use my second to jam the pommel into his temple.

He stumbles in the sand, and I shove him down, using my boot to keep him pinned beneath the surface and watch the life leak from his eyes as he thrashes.

I jam one of my swords into the ocean and grab another knife from my thigh, throwing it at the mage farthest from me.

It spears her right between her eyes, and she crashes into the graveyard of my own making, but not as gracefully as I hoped.

Her shoulder slams into the remaining mage, and the blue returns to his eyes as the wyvern the other must’ve been controlling screeches.

I jam my remaining sword through the soldier’s throat, forever pinning him beneath the surface, and launch myself at the mage as he reaches for the dagger at his waist. The salty sea sprays me as I tackle him, prying the knife from his bony fingers while wrapping my hand around his neck and yanking him up.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find the people trying to kill my wife?

” He spits water into my face, but I hardly register it through the firestorm raging within me.

My sanity walks a fine line most days, but looking down at someone hurting Elowen, having them in my grasp, it renders my mercy nonexistent. “Where are your ships?”

“Fuck you.”

I shove him beneath the water again, keeping him pinned there for several seconds before pulling him up again.

He’s sputtering and coughing, but I want some fucking answers.

There may be a plethora of ships in the bay, but it’s not enough to account for all the soldiers, and Thirwen wouldn’t make the same mistake of sending an entire fleet to shore when they know Elowen is here.

I dig the tip of his knife into his cheek.

“You know who I am. I can make this very unpleasant, and I’ll take my time doing it.

Before you die, I’ll make you forget what it’s like to wish to survive. I’ll make you crave death.”

I shove him beneath the surface again before jerking him up. “Where are your ships?”

“Blockade.” He coughs up a lungful of sea.

“Is Imirath with them?”

He gives me a delirious smile, confirming my suspicions. “You’ll never make it back to Erebos. You may be blessed by a god, but you will die in this sea before you ever make it home.”

I do not fear death, having learned how to die a long time ago. “Only one of our corpses will be left to feed the fishes.”

I shove him below again as his eyes go white.

A beast screeches in the distance, and sure enough, when I look over my shoulder a black-scaled body is coming right toward me.

My vision goes red, and I grip the mage’s neck, squeezing and squeezing until his veins are protruding from his forehead and his bones snap in my hand.

The beast continues flying at me despite the enchantment being severed upon the mage’s death. I steal the bow off one of the fallen soldiers, nocking in two arrows and keeping my hands steady as I aim.

Hold it.

It screeches again. It’s so close I can make out the shape of its individual scales and the blood coating them.

Hold.

I quiet my mind, fixing my eyes on the one place where I can hit it that’ll make a difference.

Its jaw unhinges wider, and when it’s close enough for me to smell its rank breath, I release the arrows and dive to the side as it plummets forward.

Its wounded cry pierces my ears, making them throb and ache, and I push myself up from the sand, taking hold of my two swords again as I face the wyvern.

Blood gushes from the eye socket I managed to hit, and I duck as it swings its venom-tipped tail at my head.

I try to will the tide as Elowen has wielded flames, but it remains unresponsive. I grit my teeth, accepting that all I have is steel. It’s all I’ve ever had. I’ve never needed the gods; I’ve never needed anything. I’m not blessed by death. I am death.

“Come on,” I mutter as it snarls. “Come on!”

It snaps its head forward, and I spin out of the way, slicing one of my swords below its neck.

It screams again, jerking its head away from me before I can cut its throat again, but I slice its wing, adding more blood to the already red ocean.

It swings its tail again, and I sacrifice a blade to jam it through the armored flesh, pulling my hand down just before venom is injected into my wrist.

In one last effort, it snaps its head forward, skimming my shoulder with its canine as I shove my final blade through its second eye.

I jam it to the hilt and keep pushing until I spear its brain.

The final roar dies on its lips, and it crashes into the waves as I fall to my knees to catch my breath.

I don’t often experience pity, but I do now while looking at the beast. I know what it’s like to be caged, to be controlled, but I made it out.

I press a hand to its snout. There are no winners at the end of a battle, just haunted survivors.

I caught Elowen crying on the ship after the first battle where she had to kill wyverns, and the memories have chased her from sleep on more than one night.

She had to choose between the survival of her dragons and them, but the wyverns aren’t acting of their own volition; they’re being controlled.

“May your soul cross the river and find peace,” I say while removing my blades. I move to stand beside the beast and dig my boots into the sand, pushing it farther into the tide to give it the only burial I’m able.