Page 36 of Ignite the Infernos

“Inbound,” he shouts. “The arch just lit up.”

“Shit, we need our packs,” Enslee directs as the others spill out from all over to take in what’s happening.

“I got them,” Olinta volunteers, and then she and Vero run back into the stack.

Craith and Gable are already climbing the shipping containers to get back up to the guard peak in order to monitor the situation. I should be following them, but for some reason, I’m frozen in place. I have my suspicions about who is going to come striding through that activated arch, and all at once, I can’t decide if I’m desperate to see him or desperate to get as far away as possible.

“It’s going to be okay,” Enslee reassures me. “We’re ready. We’ve got this.”

I pull in a deep breath and hope she’s right. In theory, our plan works, but pulling it off is a whole different reality, especially when you’re going up against The Horde. Out of nowhere, a strange staticky sensation swells through me and then disappears just as quickly as it came. I gasp, and my eyes grow wide as I clutch at my chest.

“Aeson is here,” I hiss, certain despite having no idea how.

Enslee reels back. “Shit. You can feel him like that?”

“I couldn’t before,” I contend, like it matters, because I sure as fuck feel him now.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Does this mean he can feel me too?

I wave off that thought and the panic that tries to accompany it. Even if he can sense me, he still has the wards to contend with. This changes nothing. The Horde was always going to figure things out eventually. This is exactly what we’ve prepared for.

“Three inbound,” Mayur calls out, and I look over to see he’s reading Gable’s hand signals from the top of the stack. “Aeson Noctis and two others,” Mayur confirms. “They’re in a tent, no other activity as of now.”

Olinta and Vero come jogging into the clearing with several packs in each hand. Enslee and I get to work strapping packs to their owners’ sandcycles just in case we need to make a break for it sooner than we thought. I don’t think the dragons will breach our wards that easily, but I also know better than to underestimate Aeson and his Wing.

“Anyone else? Any other Wings or Flights?” I shout to Mayur who signs the question up at Gable.

Gable turns to study the camp and then signs “no”.

I don’t know if I’m offended or flattered that Aeson hasn’t brought in additional backup. He could be underestimating us, or it could be a protective measure. Then again reinforcements could also be hiding for all we know, his backup might easily be keeping their distance to help lull us into a false sense of security.

I growl, tired of this hurry-up-and-wait game. Olinta and Vero bring out the last of the packs, and all of us make quick work of securing them to our fliers. I’m tempted to put my riding gear on, but I hold off, waiting for the signal.

It feels like hours before anything happens. I have no idea how long we’re actually standing around waiting to see what the dragons will do now. My thoughts and emotions teeter-totter between anxious and fuck it. I swear it feels as though Aeson’s drawing things out just to fuck with me.

Motion at the top of the stack draws everyone’s attention, and then adrenaline pistons through my system when Craith, Gable, and Iker all come zipping down the line like their lives depend on it.

“Gear up!” Mayur shouts at the same time Iker warns, “Incoming!”

The sky suddenly fills with dragons. They’re a kaleidoscope of colors, deep red, blue, green, dark brown. Their gargantuan wings and massive bodies blot out the sun, but they’re not attacking, they’re circling high above as though out for an evening glide. My eyes snap to a black dragon that comes into view, but the inky monster looks nothing like Aeson, and I know it has to be Ogdan. I haven’t seen Aeson’s wing in their dragon forms, and I can’t help but marvel at how fluid and impressive they are as they circle us like the predators they are. Unease courses through me when the commander’s unrivaled beast doesn’t join the spin cycle high above. I tell myself the only reason I care is to try to get a read on what his Wing is doing, but it’s a laughable excuse.

Why isn’t he up there with them?

“Ever, what are you doing? Suit up!” Enslee barks, and I snap out of my distracted thoughts.

“On it,” I reassure my sister, pretending I don’t see the look she shoots me to get my fucking head in the game. I pull on my riding armor and press the button on the back of the neck so it suctions to my form. I slip one arm and then the other through my respirator pack, and then a scream from Olinta rips my focus from the task at hand, and I look up to see a huge dark brown dragon dropping right for us.

“Don’t do it. Don’t do it,” I chant quietly as Karis closes in like a heat-seeking missile.

I scream in both horror and shock when the gargantuan Thrasher hits the wards with a bone-shattering impact that rocks me to my core. A boom, like a rupturing volcano, explodes through the camp, and the pressure of the collision slams into me like a solid wall, sending me flying.

I land hard on my back, and a high-pitched ringing starts in my ears. Dazed, I roll to my side, coughing to clear my lungs as a cloud of sand slowly settles around me. Suddenly, I see Enslee lying a few feet away with blood dripping from her nose. With a shout I can’t actually hear, I scramble on all fours to my sister.

Her eyes open as I draw closer, and she looks around confused. “What the fuck,” she groans, but to me, it sounds like she’s whispering.

“Are you okay? What hurts? Can you feel your toes?” I rapid-fire question as I look her over like I’ve developed X-ray vision and can identify her injuries with the naked eye.

She starts to answer, but it’s lost amidst the cacophony of a thunderous roar that drowns everything else out. Terrified, I look up and see Karis trying to separate from the ward as it does what it was designed to do: protect us at all cost.