Page 83 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)

Chapter Sixty-two

Elowen

Zarius stands at the bow of the ship, his fingertips twitching as he stares out at the black horizon.

I slide more knives through my waist belt, watching as fog begins to creep along the surface of the sea.

The entirety of the fleet silently douses all lanterns as he works, not wanting Thirwen or Imirath to spot us on the horizon.

Sweat soaks Zarius’s shirt as he works, making the snow leopard tattoo visible through the fabric as the mist thickens.

It clings to the air around us and reminds me of the mist that once surrounded Aestilian, but I’m able to see through this.

It must have something to do with Zarius’s magic.

It would be useless if we couldn’t see the enemy, rendering us just as blind as them.

I command the dragons to remain quiet and camouflage their scales as Zarius instructed earlier.

One by one, a blanket settles over a thousand ships, swallowing us whole.

Thirwen and Imirath will see a storm approaching, but they won’t know it is blood and fire that will rain down upon them.

The dragons fly just above the masts of the first five ships, Venatrix remaining over ours, as the torches of the blockade flicker in the distance.

I dust my fingers over my knives again as the silhouettes of the anchored ships appear.

Cayden nods to Ophir standing beside the railing, who responds by cracking his knuckles and clasping his hands together before shooting them out on either side.

The ship sways beneath our feet as Ophir manipulates the tide to sail our ships through the rows in the enemy’s blockade.

On board the deck, steel slowly begins unsheathing the deeper we get into the guarded territory.

Soldiers relax on the decks we float past, drinking and joking as the fog swarms them, entirely unaware of our presence.

We’re surrounded by purple and red sails on all sides, and I don’t risk making a single sound.

Zarius’s hands shake as he tries to hold the spell, but it can’t last forever.

“They wanted war, give them hell,” Cayden whispers before kissing the top of my head and stepping forward as Zarius falters under the weight of his fading spell. “Fire all cannons!” The illusion fades in a blink as blasts vibrate the deck beneath my boots. “Keep her steady, Ophir.”

Bells clamor as the two ships on either side of us begin taking on water rapidly, their decks sinking into the abyss as my dragons descend, ripping into several ships with their claws and pushing them beneath the surface.

I pull two knives from my sheaths, kissing the blades in a silent goodbye as Finnian threads an arrow through his bow. “Shoot straight.”

“Throw true,” he responds with a smirk.

I whirl my blades upon the enemy, spearing two soldiers rushing to man their cannons, and throw two more at a pair swinging onto our deck with the ropes attached to their ships.

They lose their grip and tumble into the dark waters below, taking my blades to their graves.

Finnian picks off several more, and I grab my crossbow from where it rests at my feet to fire beside him.

Saskia rushes to an unmanned canon on our deck, crouching behind it to aim after the man beside her loads it.

The bang booms like thunder as an iron ball shoots out and splinters the wood right where a ship meets the water.

The pair of them quickly repeat their movements and send water gushing into the vessel.

“Sas!” I shout in warning, but I have no arrows left.

I toss my crossbow aside and unsheathe another knife, aiming it at the soldier rushing at her back from where he landed on our deck.

I cock my arm back, but an arrow pierces his neck before I have the chance to throw.

She shrieks as blood splatters her cheeks and looks over her shoulder to the upper deck, and though nobody is facing us with a bow drawn in the air, one rests by Zarius’s feet as he drags a blade from its sheath.

Zale steals my attention as he runs to the railing and swings his arms in a wide arc, sending a long blade made of flames shooting forward, and though the ships don’t catch fire due to the enchantments, it severs fifteen soldiers in half.

“You had me holding fire when you could’ve taught me that?” I call out after disarming an enemy and slicing them down the middle.

“All in good time,” Zale answers.

The next two ships we cross anticipated us while we fended off the previous, and soldiers swing onto our deck on both sides.

Cayden and Ryder are there in an instant, leading a combination of Thirwen, Galakin, and Vareveth soldiers into battle.

Blood coats the boards as steel clangs through the air.

I throw myself into the chaos, becoming one with my blade as I’ve done since I had my first kill.

A female soldier sprints toward me, and I dodge the knife she throws at my face, ramming my blade into her stomach when she’s close enough.

Gritting my teeth, I push her toward the railing and kick her over the side.

Ships sink all around us from the efforts of our soldiers and my dragons shredding them with their talons.

Their snouts are covered in blood from ripping people apart, sometimes swallowing them whole.

A symphony of war is brought to life through the screams of those burning, bleeding, or thrashing in the water as sharks and monsters drag them under.

“Princess,” an Imirath soldier croons as he steps into my path along with another mirroring his large stature.

“Prick.” I unsheathe a knife and drop to my knees, spinning before the one who spoke realizes what’s happening, and jam it through his thigh.

One of the most valuable lessons Ailliard taught me was that it doesn’t matter the size of a person, even a small serpent can take down a mountain of a man if they strike fast and hard.

My lethality comes from striking quick and accurately.

I don’t need long to take down an enemy, just a blade.

He cries out and fists my hair to the point of pain as a knife cuts right for my neck.

I wrap my free hand around his wrist while kicking my leg out to fend off his partner.

I toss my sword high, flipping it through the air to grip the hilt and jam it behind me.

Blood spills down my shoulders and back and I let his body hit the floor as I tug my blade free.

My head snaps to the side, but I manage to stand my ground as my cheek throbs. Blood trickles down my face, and I lick it away from my lips. “Now is that the proper way to treat your princess?”

“The ruination of Imirath is not my princess,” he spits, crouching into an offensive position while slamming his sword forward.

I tsk, smirking at him between our locked weapons. “Someone should’ve taught you manners.”

I knee him in the stomach and follow it up with a kick to his jaw. I manage to slice him in the stomach as he recovers, but it’s not deep enough to kill him.

“Blood for blood,” I say with a smile. “It’s only fair.”

He charges at me and steel clangs as he forces my back against the wide mast at the center of the ship.

Splinters dig into my arms as I fend off his hold, and his sword shimmers as he rears it back and aims for my face.

I free myself enough to duck, and a dull thwack vibrates my back as he embeds his weapon into the wood.

Taking advantage of his poor swordsmanship, I shoot up and shove my blade through his chest, yanking it free and fisting his hair to bend him over in his final moments.

“It’s proper protocol to bow to your princess.”

I pat the Atarah sigil burned into the leather on his upper arm before letting him collapse on the deck.

A cannonball rips into our deck, and I drop to my stomach beside the corpse as wood rains down upon me. Blood soaks through my clothes, and I can’t wait for all this to be over so I can bathe.

“You all right, love?” Cayden calls out, and though I don’t spot him in the chaos, I’m not surprised he has one eye on me.

“Never better.” I grimace while peeling a clump of hair off my sticky arm and shoving to my feet, taking hold of my weapons again.

In their desperation, a mixture of Imirath and Thirwen soldiers throw torches at our ship, knowing they’re going to die and wanting to take us down with them.

Zale orders the fire-wielders under his command, and they send the earthly fire back at our enemy.

Their ships don’t catch fire, but their sails do, which sends hot embers and sheets of billowing fabric onto those on the decks.

I feel my power surge within me as I watch their movements, imagining it like the tide pushing and pulling as I let the magic flow through me.

The hair on the back of my neck rises, and I let my instincts guide me until my gaze catches on light blue flames flecked with silver billowing on a torch in our path.

We’re almost through the blockade, and though we’ve lost some ships, the element of surprise aided us in an invaluable way.

The battle is nearly over, but I need to ensure we’re not lost to it in the final moments.

Fucking gods.

Zale can’t wield starfire—I don’t even know how they got it—and it’s just as unpredictable as dragonfire.

I’m not willing to run the risk of failing, and rush to the edge of the ship as Zale and Finnian call out my name, but I ignore them, creating some semblance of a most likely horrible plan as I stab and dodge.

Honestly the best plans are born from absurdity and are only considered good if they work out.

“I need you to aim at that ship exactly like you have been,” I shout above the battle while wrapping a rope around my fist and stepping onto the railing.

“Elowen.” Saskia speaks my name as if she’s trying to coax a feral animal not to bite. “What the hells are you doing?”

“Possibly creating a diversion, possibly dying, we’ll see.”