The dragon’s head snaps back as it realizes its fire hasn’t destroyed us. Rampage may have catapults instead of the newer cannons, but she has a better shield than most Hellions. She has to, to brave the transport runs alone.
Of course, she has more than just that. She also has me. And I’m better at wielding enchantment than any other knight I’ve met.
The dragon banks hard, circling away so it can come back again with another attack. It's so huge that as it turns, its long tail comes swinging around toward the ship.
This is my chance. I run, digging my feet into the deck, arms pumping until I practically fly.
The armor makes me faster, exaggerating the movement of my limbs and powering them past what my own muscles can provide. I charge up the prow, the front of the ship that extends over the water, and jump.
For a terrifying moment I’m airborne over the disgusting, foul, terrible sea, as the dragon’s tail lashes toward me. It collides like an avalanche, and knocks the wind from my lungs.
My arms and legs hug around it for dear life. Even the tail is spiked, providing hand-holds that would have broken my ribs without the enchantment in my armor. As the beast turns and rises, positioning itself for another dive, I climb.
The beast dips and rises as its wings beat. Wind snatches at me, first a blast of the ocean’s cool brine, then the sulphuric warmth of the dragon’s breath. I grit my teeth and keep moving.
At the base of its tail, the heavy back-spines of the dragon become pronounced. I wrap my forearms around a broad ridge of spike and grip tight as the dragon drops a foot, then rises again.
The witch sits at the base of the dragon’s neck, facing away from me, unaware I’m about to attack. Even from the far end of the massive dragon, I note the width of his shoulders beneath hisleather armor, and the narrow taper of his hips. His black hair blows freely behind him as the dragon tucks its wings and dives down toward my ship again.
We’re falling, tilted forward. The dragon’s back forms a steep downward slope in front of me, and the witches’ king, the one man responsible for every necessary cruelty we've endured, is below. At the base of the neck.
I can’t worry about draining the Enchanted. They’re going to die if I lose, too. I’ll change the course of this war right now if I can just kill this one witch.
I know I'm up against the strongest of our foes, but I have to believe there's at least a chance I can pull this off.
“Guide me,” I shout, reaching for my ship Rampage’s power without using the longer incantations most knights rely on. I stand on shaking legs and free my gold-washed sword from its sheath. It hums blue with enchantment. For a moment I hover above the dragon, falling at a different speed, and then I crash down into a run so hard my bones ache. The ship’s magic is an anchor pulling me down the slope. I run so fast, so vertically, that each step takes me two dozen feet. My blade crackles with power. I raise it as I reach the man seated on the dragon’s back.
He turns at the last moment to see me.
The witch’s face is chiseled, his jaw and cheekbones prominent. His skin is pale against the black of his long wind-torn hair. He’d be beautiful if not for his eyes, burning with an unnatural orange light, evidence of his wicked bond to the monster he’s riding.
My sword comes down. The witch narrows those burning eyes.
He twists out of the way and jumps to his feet with unnatural speed, moving so smoothly it’s like he’s mastered the wind. My sword doesn't hesitate, spinning to change course before slashing toward him.
For a moment as I draw near him again, he looks startled, eyes wide and lips parted.
A pillar of wind slams against me, pushing me away from him so violently I lose my footing and stumble. The wind rips water from my eyes as I fly ten feet back. I grab a spike to stop myself, crouching low so I’m a smaller target. The wind stops and then snaps against my right side, the directional shift so abrupt there’s no question the witch is controlling the storm.
My braid lashes through the air. The wind rips one of my blue ribbons loose, to dance beside me before fluttering down toward the sea.
The witch strides toward me with a frown. No matter how many witches I kill it won’t be enough. They’re the reason we’ll never know peace; the reason we still need to use the Enchanted.
“Your eyes…” he starts. His voice is as low as the thunder booming around us.
“Shut up,” I hiss. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. My blue eyes don’t burn with witch’s magic. They’re just pale, almost bright, but it’s a natural color.
My body slides across the dragon’s twisting back. I dig my feet against the jagged scales and launch myself at him as hard as I can.
“Why would you fight for them?” he asks, his feet planted as I sprint closer to him.
He’s trying to get into my head. It won’t work.
I reach him and strike. A thin blade of air knocks my sword back, away from his chest. This witch wields the wind like needle and thread, lines of force piercing through the sky and dancing at his command.
The wind doesn’t hit the rest of me. My armored body slams into him. His arms close around my waist, as I hook his leg with my own and bear him down to the dragon’s back.
He goes almost too easily, and the look on his face is… intrigued? Or perhaps amused. The witches’ hair splays out beneath him. I pant, and pin his body down with my own.
