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No, not a cloud, Corayne realized, her body going numb. Once more, she looked to the ruins, the echoes of a castle gone, overgrown with moss and scattered bones.
A single dragon did not roost here.
A mother and child did.
The second dragon’s roar shook the stones beneath Corayne, rumbling up through her body. A downdraft of wind hit her like a hammer fall and she landed on her knees as the hot air rushed over her. It smelled of blood and smoke, heavy and rotten.
“NOW WE RUN!” Garion boomed, his hand closing on Corayne’s collar.
She didn’t fight him, letting the Amhara pull her out of the clearing and into the labyrinthine ruins. He dragged Charlie with his other hand, throwing them both ahead of him as they sprinted.
Behind them, the mother dragon crashed down into the great hall, a tower crumbling with a sweep of her tail. Shouts echoed, Valnir’s voice loudest of all, commanding his Elder warriors into formation to fight on two fronts. The mother dragon bellowed back, her jeweled hide glittering purple.
Another dragon wind blew through the ruins, pushing at Corayne’s back as she ran. Bones and dismembered limbs rolled underfoot, sticky with old blood. She dodged, leaning on Garion to keep her footing.
“Where is it?” Charlie hunted as they ran, a hand trailing over thebroken walls. “Can you feel anything?”
As much as she wanted to keep running and abandon Vergon for good, Corayne forced herself to slow. Panting, she slid up against an archway, putting the stone to her back. She flinched when a blast of fire split the sky, the flames nearly blue with heat.
“It’s here,” she muttered, trying to feel anything but her thundering heart. At the edge of her mind, a Spindle hissed. And beyond it, something worse. “It’s here somewhere.”
Charlie eyed the surrounding walls, the passages of the old castle like a maze. Years ago, the earthquake destroyed most of Vergon. The dragons had destroyed the rest, leaving everything in shambles.
He put a hand to Corayne’s shoulder and inhaled deeply, in through his nose.
“Take a moment,” he said softly. With the other hand, he motioned for her to mirror his breathing. “Valnir can handle the dragons. You focus on the Spindle.”
She heard the lie in him, plain as day. Elders or not, two dragons were a death sentence.
But I can make sure it is not in vain.
“This way,” she said finally, heaving one more breath.
Without giving herself time to doubt, Corayne sprinted off again, forcing the other two to keep up. She wound among the ruins, through passages without ceilings, over piled bones and black patches of dried blood. A young forest grew within the walls, or at least it had before the dragons. Charred branches and overturned trunks fell across the stones, another obstacle in their path. Ash trees, judging by the crunching dead leaves. In the few places without blood or burn scars, moss carpeted the ground.
The Spindle flickered through it all, stronger with every step, until Corayne could almost feel it between her fingers. She followed thewarmth of it like a beckoning hand.
Then the young dragon landed screaming in a heap, colliding with the broken path in front of them. It curled over on itself, kicking up debris with every shudder of pain. One eye was gone, the socket a smoking ruin, skewered by an arrow. It roared again, smoke rasping from its jaws.
In spite of herself, Corayne felt her heart twist.
Its wings flapped uselessly, too weak to take to the sky again. Instead, it snapped and snarled, teeth bared and claws scraping the ground. Hot blood dripped from its many wounds.
Garion stepped neatly between Corayne and the dragon, his Elder sword held to strike. With his free hand, he kept Charlie back, protecting them all as best he could.
“Keep going, leave this to me,” he said, hardly convincing in his terror.
Behind him, Charlie all but latched on to his shoulder. “Garion—”
The Amhara shrugged him off gracefully and took a step forward, his focus on the young dragon. It hissed again, a great black tongue lashing the air. Its single remaining eye fixed on Garion, the pupil blown wide, ringed with a thin line of gold.
But the dragon did not strike. Its head bobbed on a serpentine neck, smoke whistling through its teeth as it tracked Garion. The jewels of its body ran slick, their shine dulled by dark blood.
One swing of the assassin’s blade might very well end its agony.
“Garion, move slowly,” Corayne said, sliding one foot back.
The dragon’s eye flickered to her. Strangely, Corayne felt like both predator and prey. She stared back.
