Page 24 of Ignite the Infernos

“Binocs?” I request, but instead of handing me his, he hurries to the supply chest and starts pulling out every device we have.

His harness clinks and clatters against the safety line he’s attached to as he hurries back, and I note the distinct sound of boots climbing the rungs of metal ladders that lead up each side of the stack. Vasu hands me the gear, and instantly I fit it to my head and pull the lenses down over my eyes.

Startlingly, the dragons suddenly look as though they’re right in front of me, and I hurry to tap the frame of the lenses until they pan out and I can take in the two immense beasts in all their terrifying glory.

“What do we got?” Craith demands as he tops the ladder and strides onto the roof. Vasu hastily debriefs the other wyvern, and I focus on our unwelcome visitors.

The two dragons have landed on the far side of the sea of sand surrounding our triangle of dunes. They’re near the field of yardangs, which is an odd place to stop. The sand-stripped rock formations hide a series of interconnected ravines on their opposite side, and unease curdles in my stomach as I study the intruders.

The dragons make quick work of removing the straps on their flown-in freight, and then they start unloading the contents. Large equipment I don’t recognize fills my field of view. Then half a dozen animals are herded out into a fenced area the purple dragon nimbly set up.

I zoom in on the pastured creatures, and my stomach bottoms out before filling with wasps.

“What are those?” Vasu asks, the question tinged with both awe and worry.

“Loam hounds,” Craith and I answer at the same time.

The size of ancient elephants, with blue fur, two sets of beady black eyes, and a pair of front legs twice the size of their back ones, I instantly understand why the dragons set up shop where they did. It’s the shadiest part of this quadrant of The Scorch, thanks to the tall yardangs, and those hounds much prefer the dark over the light.

Vero stomps onto the roof and takes the binocs Vasu hands him. He doesn’t say a word, just calmly scans the major fucking problem that just landed in our backyard.

“Vasu, go get Saba and your kids, and start packing,” I order. “Send Mayur or Sofann up to take over your watch.”

Understanding alights in Vasu’s eyes, and a gleam of apprehension accompanies it. “Yes, Scioness,” he replies instantly before rushing to set his equipment down.

With deft fingers, he transfers the lead on his harness from the safety line to the zip line that’s anchored into the ground. Without another word, the wyvern drops over the edge of the roof and zooms down to the sand. I watch him land safely and then focus back on the dragons as they start to secure a perimeter and set up some fancy-looking tents that glimmer with magi-tech.

“They probably have air-con,” Vero scoffs, obviously watching the same thing I am.

“You think this is a coincidence, or do they know we’re here?”

Before I can answer, the teal dragon shrinks and shifts until it’s no longer a gargantuan winged nightmare, but a drake. A drake I recognize with his long blond hair, mossy-green eyes, and lightning-esque dragon mark that forks up his throat and chin before stopping just under his bottom lip.

“Biscuit,” I can practically hear the butter knife–stealing bastard purr as I survey the Stormer. Herm is slow to call his scale armor and, before I can look away, flashes a full-frontal display of why the male happens to be so cocky.

I readjust my binocs, searching the area for the dark purple dragon while Herm makes himself decent. Instead of the dragon, I find Blay, thankfully covered in dark purple scale armor. He pulls his light brown hair into a knot at the back of his head. His hands are covered in a dragon mark of lines and glyphs, and his gray eyes scan the expanse of onyx sand until they land on the trio of dunes that surrounds our camp.

Vero and I both go completely still. I know Blay can’t see us, the wards prevent it, but tell that to my racing heart and the wasps stinging the shit out of my insides right now.

“Fuck,” I murmur and then pull my binocs off.

“Know them, Scioness?” Craith asks, and I nod.

“They’re two of the ten dragons that make up Aeson Noctis’s Wing,” I supply, aiming for nonchalant.

Judging by the way Vero looks over at me, I fall short of nonchalant and land somewhere in fuck my life territory.

“The teal one is Herm. He’s a Stormer.”

“Damn,” Vero grudgingly grunts. “How many elements?”

“Three as far as I can tell, and mostly Current Class. He’s an electro mag, air tamer, and I suspect he has a small affinity for water too.”

“Oh, is that all?” Craith snarks, studying Herm more intensely like he’s hoping to find neon signs pointing out the Wing member’s weak spots.

“The other drake is Blay. He’s a Render, Shield Class.”

Craith swears. “Can he sense our wards?”