Simply stay on then.
Did Wreylith sound disgusted? Or was Syla imagining that?
Agrevlari had nearly caught up with Wreylith, and Vorik shouted something to the lead female rider. Thanks to the wind, Syla couldn’t make it out, but the rider pointed her sword at him and flicked a finger toward her female ally, who had a bow with an arrow already nocked.
This is turning into a dreadful flight,Wreylith said.I’d hoped the barrier might be down on this island, as on the other, and I might hunt the fabled elioks. I remember their wondrous meat from my distant youth.
“Sorry.” Syla thought about mentioning that the barriermightdrop on this island, should she be effective in her mission, but she didn’t want rows of dragons lined up to take advantage. Besides, speaking of her mission to strangers wouldn’t be a good idea.
The rider with the bow rose up, aiming over the horns of her dragon toward them.
With an irritated roar, Wreylith banked hard. She didn’t veer away from the archer and other dragons buttowardthem.
The movement caused her to tilt. Tibby cursed, and Syla gripped even more tightly to Wreylith’s scaled back, willing herself to stick like a spider to a wall.
Breathing fire, Wreylith flew toward the blue dragon. Nearby, Agrevlari adjusted his flight and also angled toward the blue. The four dragons came together with screeches and bursts of fire. Heat roiled off a gout that streamed past only a foot to Wreylith’s side, skimming the top of her wing. The red dragon dipped into a short dive before flying upward, wings flapping hard. She came up to bite at the underbelly of her foe.
Again, Tibby swore, struggling to stay on.
Suffering the same problem, Syla fought to keep her fear from turning into panic, but she knew she would inevitably fall, and they remained far from shore. Even if sharks and other sea predators hadn’t been a problem, the currents at this distance would keep even a strong swimmer from reaching safety.
Syla willed the magic in her moon-mark to somehow help her, to lend her power to strengthen her grip on Wreylith. But all she’d ever learned to do with her magic was heal people. She’d never longed for battle and certainly never dreamed of riding on adragon.
Agrevlari screeched as he also bit at their blue foe, then headed for its ally, the gray dragon carrying the archer. Somehow, Vorik had no trouble staying on his twisting and diving mount. He was even on his feet and swung his sword at the archer loosing arrows at Wreylith—and Syla and Tibby. The female rider ducked, but Vorik managed to slice through her bowstring as Agrevlari carried him past.
Behind him, Fel had pulled his crossbow off his back, but he merely clenched it as he stayed low. Much like Aunt Tibby, his face was a rictus of concentration as he fought to keep from falling off.
Once more, Wreylith banked hard, swinging her body around as she bit at the tail of the blue dragon. The twist almost threw Syla off. Tibby did lurch sideways, but she managed to scrabble back astride though one leg dangled precariously.
The moon-mark on Syla’s hand warmed, the way it did when she drew upon her magic, but it didn’t seem to know what to do.Shedidn’t know how to use her magic to help with flying.
As Wreylith dove again, Syla glimpsed the other two dragons approaching. For the moment, the battle was evenly matched, but that pair would arrive soon, and what then?
Tibby hollered as she again scrambled to stay on. The huge gray dragon flew right over their heads, maw opening and roiling fire visible in the back of its throat.
Syla swore even more than her aunt. There was no way to take cover.
Before the flames would have struck, Wreylith rolled away. Gravity threatened to dump Syla into the ocean far, far below, and she started falling, but the roll was so fast that Wreylith’s back returned to an upright position before her riders tumbled away. Only Syla’s heart seemed to pitch into the ocean below.
By the moon god, shehadto find a way to use her magic to stay on. Wreylith had dodged the fiery blast, returning to flying upright several yards ahead of the other dragon, but it veered to follow right after her. When Syla glanced back, she glimpsed blood flowing from a gouge in Wreylith’s tail.
Thatshe could at least use her magic to help with. Maybe it wasn’t the time, but she willed her power into the dragon.
A tendril of her magic flowed from her hand, through scales, and toward the wound in the tail. As the healing power knitted the gouge together, Syla realized she could anchor herself via that tendril. Her palm flattened to Wreylith’s scales, and the next time the dragon moved quickly, her neck snapping like a whip to allow her to bite into the gray dragon’s flank, Syla’s hand didn’t budge.The rest of her body tried to pitch off, but through that link, she remained anchored.
“Hold on to me,” she yelled to her aunt.
Tibby’s face was flushed red, terror making the whites of her eyes visible around the irises.
“Or find a way to use your power to hang on,” Syla added.
If she could figure out a way, Tibby might be able to as well. Could sheengineersomething in a dragon? Wreylith might object to that more than healing.
Movement to the side caught Syla’s eye. The lead female rider was falling, rage more than fear contorting her face as she tumbled toward the sea. Sword in hand, Vorik crouched not atop his dragon but on the one she’d ridden. The blue. And that dragon wasn’t happy about it. It twisted in the air and snapped at Vorik, trying to bite him in half.
Vorik leaped off an instant before those jaws would have crushed him. He also plummeted toward the ocean, and Syla gasped. It was so far below that hitting the surface of the water could kill him as surely as hitting the ground.
But Agrevlari flew in from the side, Fel balanced precariously on his back, and angled to catch the falling Vorik. Another dragon was chasing Agrevlari—the gray carrying the female archer. She yelled at Vorik as he settled astride Agrevlari in front of Fel. Like the other woman, fury raged in her eyes, and she waved, as if commanding others to get him.
