Syla blinked, either at the imagery of him being spanked or at the notion that lush grass didn’t exist in many other places in the world.
Vorik opened his mouth to say more, but a distant screech came from the sky. He lifted his sword again as he scanned the predawn clouds, worried Wreylith had changed her mind about sparing Syla’s life.
But it wasn’t a red dragon that he spotted. The outlines of a gray and a green dragon, each carrying a rider, were visible out over the sea. They were flying straight toward the lighthouse.
In the growing light, Vorik could see the faces of the men, evenfrom the distance, and he recognized those dragons as well. They and their riders were in the Sixteen Talons.
Beside him, Syla followed his gaze and spotted the threat. She tensed and swore, looking around.
Vorik opened his mouth, intending to say that he recognized the newcomers and that they were allies. But, when one lifted a gargoyle-bone sword, and pointed it at Syla, he realized that wasn’t true.Shewasn’t an ally of the Sixteen Talons or any other stormer.
The other rider pointed his sword at Vorik and shouted a single word.
The wind and roar of the sea muffled the sound, but it didn’t matter. Vorik read it on the man’s lips and knew what it was.
“Traitor!”
As promised, his brother had sent men to help along the ruse, men who might, if Vorik wasn’t careful, kill Syla.
12
While she’d extricatedthe venom-filled fang from the fearsome red dragon, Syla had remained calm, fighting down her instinct to run each time the powerful creature twitched a limb or spoke of slaying. But now, with two new dragons flying toward the grassy top of the bluff, her calmness fled. Both of their riders waved swords while glaring at her, their intent clear. Surprisingly, they glared at Vorik too.
When the gray dragon angled toward Syla, descending rapidly with talons outstretched, she sprinted for the only cover on the clifftop, the lighthouse.
“Hide inside!” Vorik yelled after her.
Meanwhile, he ran to his winged ally and sprang high into the air, landing astride its broad back, as if it were a pony instead of a huge dragon. Never had Syla seen anyone capable of such a great jump.
Something that doesn’t matter in the least right now, she thought as she ran, wishing she’d stayed closer to the lighthouse while healing Wreylith.
The enemy dragons were coming in fast, and she wouldn’tmake it in time. Even if she did, was the stone structure enough to protect her from such powerful enemies? After all, the buildings in the castle had fallen…
As the gray dragon swept closer, it opened its maw, and flames roiled in the back of its throat. It would torch herandthe lighthouse.
No, a green dragon arrowed in from the side, colliding with the gray and knocking it from its flight path. Vorik riding on his mount. Agrevlari. That had been the big male’s name.
The wingbeats of the two dragons battered the air as they twisted and dove right above Syla’s head. The wind they generated tugged at her dress hard enough to send her stumbling sideways. As she flailed for balance, she gaped at the sight of the battling dragons. They twisted, bit, and clawed at each other, somehow remaining aloft as they gyrated about, even lashing out at each other with their thick and powerful tails.
“Traitor!” the rider of the gray dragon yelled.
Syla reached the door of the lighthouse and should have run inside, but she paused with her hand on the latch. She couldn’t keep from watching as the wind created by the dragons’ wings tugged at her hair and made the grass flutter. The display of gravity-defying power and agility from both creatures as they rolled and twisted in the air was mesmerizing.
The battle took place near the lighthouse, more than thirty feet up, but Vorik leaped from the back of his dragon to land on the spine of the gray, as if there were no danger of falling to one’s death.
His rider opponent didn’t appear surprised, merely spinning around to meet him with a swinging sword. Vorik struck quickly, deflecting the blade with his own as he balanced on the back of the gyrating dragon. He even managed to kick the other rider, a strong blow that took the man square in the chest.
His opponent flew off his mount and tumbled past the edge of the cliff and toward the sea below.
The gray dragon roared and extricated itself from the biting and slashing Agrevlari. Neck snapping around, its fanged maw whipped toward Vorik who still crouched on its back.
“Look out!” Syla caught herself yelling.
Somehow, Vorik leaped over the snapping jaws, avoiding them and coming down farther back on the dragon, just above the base of the tail.
Agrevlari flew in again, but the gray dragon, incensed by having an unwanted rider, bucked and snapped wildly. Twice more, Vorik jumped to avoid those deadly fangs, once somersaulting in the air and swinging his sword at one of the beast’s horns, clipping off the tip. Somehow, he landed again on the dragon’s back.
Agrevlari flew in close to help—or maybe retrieve his rider.
