Page 39 of Ignite the Infernos

“No, tell him to stay where he is and to prepare for company. We don’t know how many there are, this could all be a diversion to help other targets escape through that tunnel. Everyone else, with me,” I bark. “Get to it.”

Pulse thudding, I race across the shifting black sand, feet sliding, arms pumping. I need to clear the tents so I can reveal. The energy building between me and my Wing is palpable. It’s a resounding buzz of expectation with a steady thrum of unwavering determination and duty.

“Jori,” I summon, and the Healer draws even with me. “I want you to hang back as much as you can. Only engage if you have to.” He nods, and I turn to Karis as Herm, Sondar, Farrow, and Gatlin reveal and start to fly off. “Are you up for this?” I ask the Thrasher, concerned.

“You know I live for this shit, Commander,” he replies.

“Just as long as you live,” I counter, and his answering chuckle is deep and resonant.

“Who doesn’t love a good ambush?” Chastain interjects with a dreamy sigh.

Tove snorts out a laugh, and Ogdan shakes his head, but there’s no missing the vicious twinkle in his gray gaze, showing he’s in complete agreement.

“Just like before, Ever is our priority,” I declare pointedly, looking each of my Wing in their eager eyes. “If we can bring in the others with her, great, but we do not let Ever Tenebrae slip through our fucking claws. Not for anything. Got it?”

Their answering shouts are like a war drum counting off the distance between two charging armies. My blood sings with anticipation, and I sense Ever’s focused determination bleeding through the bond.

I tilt my head back and fill my lungs with desert air, determined that this is my last day in this Source-forsaken hellhole. This hide-and-seek shit ends today.

“It’s a good day to wrangle some Syphons,” I growl, letting it build until it’s a full-blown roar. “Now let’s HUNT!”

The ardent shouts of my Wing rapidly morph into guttural bellows as drakes transform into dragons. Each of us takes to the air, seizing the sky with claws and wings and an undeniable need to pursue and capture. We aim for the fliers just as the sun’s rays begin to dance across the black glittering sand below, like this pursuit has been ordained by the heavens above. I reveal my dragon between one step and another, and then . . . the chase begins.

Chapter 18

Ever

“THEY’RE COMING!” VERO ANNOUNCES, HIS voice crackling through my helmet, thanks to the ancient coms system wired into our gear.

“Finally,” Enslee growls, and the others laugh. “Any longer and we’d have to lap back.”

I pull in a deep breath and will the wasps in my stomach to turn back into moths. It’s going to be just fine; we’ve trained for this. We’re only ten miles out from the entry point to the gauntlet. Once we’re there, we’re good.

Olinta shifts her weight behind me, and I expertly counterbalance the movement to keep my flier steady.

“You good?” I ask the wyvern strapped in behind me.

Her back is pressed against mine as she faces the sands behind us, eager to take on the dragons just as soon as they’re within range.

“I’m great,” she sends back, the two words coated in static. “I swear, this launcher is heavier than the last time we ran this drill.”

I smile and feel a minuscule amount of tension drain from my shoulders. “It’s loaded now, remember?”

Olinta laughs and adjusts her position again. “That’ll do it,” she agrees merrily.

Amusement warms through me, and I relax even more and focus back on the path I’m cutting across the sea of sand below. Looking down from this height, the vast stretch of yardangs we’re aiming for resemble great upturned ships. They look landlocked and abandoned in a ghostly shipyard that’s long been forgotten by anyone but the Syphons. In truth, they were shaped by Mother Nature before I ever existed, and yet I feel like I know their lines and ridges better than I know the back of my own hand.

“Contact in thirty seconds,” Vero shouts over the com, and I can practically taste the adrenaline surging through the warning.

I risk a glance behind me and instantly regret it. The sight of six fucking dragons bearing down on us like an inescapable tidal wave is a sight I could’ve done without. I fight the urge to open my throttle even more and pull farther ahead. I know part of our plan requires that they catch up to us before we hit the ridgeline. I also know that the dragons want to capture us, not kill us, but tell that to my survival instincts, because they’re adamantly screaming, We’re all going to die!

“Aim for the green and blue ones first,” I order, as I note the position of the two dragons with affinities that could prove to be the most problematic for us. Guilt nips at me when I think about Chastain. Targeting him makes me feel like I’m picking on a happy little puppy, but I solve the bout of conscience by picturing Tove’s face instead.

“We know what to do.” Amadi’s clipped reply comes crackling through the speakers of my helmet, and I’m tempted to ram my sandcycle into hers and call it a day. She’s lucky I need to find my Flight, or I’d gladly put the snotty Syphon in her place and not give two shits about being caught while doing it.

“Here we go!” Gable bays, and the answering roar of a dragon, who’s way too close for comfort, nukes the last of my nerves still trying to hold on for dear life.

I look over at the other Syphons decked out in their riding gear, attention honed and bodies tense as we hold the line together. I let the wind whipping past me rip my worries away, and find comfort in the control of the sandcycle beneath me.