Ritathan widened his eyes.“What exactly did you think you were protecting me from?”he asked over the screeching.
Aramal rolled off of him, cursing.“You arrogant son-of-a—”
“Now, now,” Ritathan said.“Language.”His tone was mild but drenched with arrogant attitude.
Halithe laughed, relief washing over her.
Bright Fang growled.
The barrier covered them completely, leaving the wyverns to beat against it.Halithe stared, fascinated.They were black as night, their wings had claws at the joints, and their clawed feet looked wicked sharp.But they weren’t much larger than a small lap dog.
“They’re so small,” Halithe raised a hand toward the barrier.
“Careful,” Ritathan said.“I am holding them out, not us in.”
“All the images and stories said they were as large as barns.”
“They were, before the Mage Wars,” Ritathan said.“But the Wastes forced animals to change or die.”
“They can still do a lot of damage with those claws and beaks,” Aramal pointed out.“And their stingers are poisonous.”He lifted his chin towards some ichor on the barrier.“They don’t seem to be losing interest, either.Maybe we can crawl to the edge, and—”
“Please,” Ritathan snorted.
Flames erupted outside the barrier, engulfing the wyverns.The flare blinded Halithe, who blinked watering eyes against the light.She watched in horrified fascination as waves of fire burned above them, leathery wings turning crisp in the inferno.
Excitement rose in her chest; awantso large it filled her entire being.To wield such glory, such power, such destruction.She couldn’t tear her eyes away.
A few wyvern struggled to flee.Ritathan was having none of it.He didn’t move, didn’t gesture, but she saw the narrowing of his eyes.Flame lashed out.The creatures burst into small balls of burning cinders that drifted to the ground.
Finally, all that remained was a dusting of ash on the barrier, being whipped away in the wind.
Bright Fang’s ruff twitched in disapproval as he glared at Ritathan.
“We’re not in Athelbryght,” Ritathan reminded him cheerily.
Aramal was trying to slow his breathing, glaring at Ritathan.
Halithe laughed giddily.It wasn’t just the release of tension.In all her lessons, everything Ritathan had showed her had been small, controlled magics.But this, this was raw, unbridled…glorious.
Ritathan shook his head at her, as if he could read her thoughts.But he said nothing, just released the barrier and got to his feet, brushing the dirt from his clothes.Halithe scrambled up as well.
The air was filled with gritty ash and the scent of burnt meat.A breeze blew in their faces, dry and dusty but dispersing the smell.
Aramal sat cross-legged on the ground, running a shaky hand through his hair.“I’d heard tales,” he said.“But I never thought them true.”Bright Fang sat next to him.Aramal buried his hand in that thick fur, as if seeking solace.“There might be more,” he warned.
Rithathan nodded.“Trust me, I have no intention of getting any closer to the edge.”He just looked out toward the horizon.“But all the answers lie out there, somewhere.In the Wastes.”
Aramal got to his feet.“Where only fools and marcusi venture.”
“Why?”Halithe demanded.“We could go—” but both Aramal and Ritathan shook their heads and Bright Fang whined.
“That land does not forgive or forget,” Ritathan said, nodding toward the edge.“Magic as we know it doesn’t function there.Worse, attempts to impose our will attracts attention.”
“There are more practical issues as well.”Aramal said.“Food is scarce and water is scarcer.The Wastes offer no welcome.”
“You talk as if it’s alive,” Halithe said.
“In its own way, it is.”Ritathan said.
