Page 70 of Starside

Arms straining, I force my blade from Pagnus’s bone. I take a step back. Another. The archer points his arrow at me. I dive past Pagnus, still on his knees, using him as cover. He roars as the arrow buries itself through his armor.

I spring up before he can cut me down. Arrows slice past both my ears. They barely miss me. I run until I reach the edge. And then there’s nowhere else to go.

“You have to know you have no chance,” Cadoc says, stepping forward. He rips the bow and arrow away from his friend.

He wants my sword. He must be the one to kill me.

Just like he killed Stellan.

Another step. “I’ll give you one more opportunity. Sink to your knees and beg me for mercy, and I might just give it to you. If you hand me your sword … I might just keep you.”

I spit in his direction.

He sighs. “Very well.” In a flash, he raises the bow. Docks the arrow. Pulls back. There’s a twang as the arrow is released, headed right toward my heart.

It’s the last thing I see as I turn and jump.

13

No creature is coming to save me.

When the man leapt, the dragon instantly parted from its pack. I hear nothing as I fall, nothing but the howling wind.

It stings my eyes, burns my nostrils, whips against my cheeks, as if in punishment for my being so very stupid.

I got lucky with the sword. No creature wants to claim me. Why would they? My intentions are not pure. They are not honorable.

My heart is a pile of ash in my chest, made of pure vengeance and regret. I mean to destroy this land. I mean to claw my way into the sky, pull the gods down from their clouds, and paint the world with their blood.

So close, I think. I got so close.

But close isn’t ever enough.

Roaring fills my ears as the ground rushes up to meet me. It’s stone on this side of the tree. Pure stone with sparkling veins. It would almost be beautiful if it wasn’t about to be my grave.

I close my eyes and hear the rock shatter just before darkness swallows everything.

Death feels like flying.

I’m carried by a wind, and it’s almost peaceful. Almost beautiful. Until the pain hits me like a battering ram.

“I’m not supposed to hurt anymore,” I croak, surprised by my own voice. My eyes open, and I realize I am—somehow—very much alive. The stars blink back at me, diamonds threaded through a dark quilt. The moon is just a fingernail crescent.

I’m in the sky.

I’m flying.

I try to move my hand. It takes a few moments for the sensation to reach my fingers again, and then—

Scales. Beneath me. I turn, only to see a shredded silver wing.

A dragon. I’m on a dragon.

It saved me.

It takes several tries to get up, and then I’m promptly blown back down by a gust of wind. My spine hits the scales, tearing the breath from my lungs. Choking, I turn carefully, clutching ridges, until I’m on my stomach.

I sort through my memories, trying to make sense of this. None of the dragons above claimed me, I know that for certain. I remember the ground fracturing …