Page 45 of Ignite the Infernos

I aim my flier right for him, not bothering to try to find a blind spot. I want him to see me, need it, even, but the Healer is oblivious.

“What are you doing, Ever?” Enslee demands, and her unexpected yell almost startles me out of my seat. My sister’s voice fills my helmet loud and clear, like not even the crappy com system is willing to earn her ire right now.

“Well, if you must know, I’m trying to start a game of chicken with a dragon, but he’s playing hard to get,” I answer evenly.

I urge the broken flier to give me more, and it thankfully complies. I dart under Jori’s wing and make a beeline for his head. The teak-colored dragon still hasn’t noticed that he has company, and I make a note to discuss this with Ogdan the next chance I get. I know the thrill of the hunt can be distracting, but Jori should know better.

“Are you out of your mind?” Enslee demands. “Stop doing whatever it is you’re doing, right now, and fly to the exit point,” Enslee orders.

“No can do, Your Grace, not unless you want The Horde to get ahold of Amadi and Gable.” The com goes silent, and a sad smile slips across my face. “Vero just shook off this same dragon. He knows our tricks, but I can help them get away. It’s fine.”

“Ever,” Enslee growls, and there’s an unmistakable ache in it. “You don’t always have to sacrifice yourself.”

“Don’t I?” I counter with a sad laugh.

The static that fills the space between me and my sister somehow tells me more than anything she could actually say to me right now. I shake my head and fill my lungs with a fortifying breath.

“I’ll lose them in the caves, but just in case I don’t . . . find my Flight, Ens. That’s all I need. Just find them. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, I loosen the chinstrap on my helmet and pull it off, not giving my sister a chance to say anything else, before I drive my sandcycle right for Jori’s giant dragon face.

“Hey, fucker!” I scream at the Healer, but he’s so focused on hunting Amadi and Gable, he still doesn’t notice me.

I zip forward when he banks right to follow Amadi’s evasive circuit, and with all my might, I chuck my helmet at the dragon’s snout.

That finally gets his attention. One tawny dragon eye flicks in my direction, and I stand up in my seat, hair snapping in the wind like a flag, just so Jori can get a good look at me. Recognition speedily alights in his eye, which is when I sit my ass back down and fly like my life depends on it.

Jori roars at me, and I flip him the bird, because it’s about damn time. My flier screams through the sky, and have to squint my eyes to see as water streams steadily out of them. I instantly regret throwing my helmet, especially since I can’t hear shit other than the ominous sound of dragon wings snapping quickly in pursuit of my stupid martyr ass. I take a page out of the book of the dragons I’ve been observing all morning and drop my flier into a dive so gravity can get to work on making it go even faster.

Parts begin to fall off as I go. Normally this would be cause for concern, but it’s serving as an unexpectedly useful shrapnel deterrent, so a win is a win. Jori keeps a measured distance after taking a fender to the eye, and I get the distinct impression he’s not really trying to catch me so much as keep me in sight until the big guns arrive.

Through teary, wind-whipped eyes, I search the rocky incline for the markers that identify the entrance to the caves.

“Come on . . . come on . . . I know you’re here . . .” I murmur as Jori draws even closer.

This is going to come down to seconds—less than, probably. I furiously scout the barren terrain as the whine of the engine located right beneath my ass turns into a full-blown scream. The flier can blow up for all I care. Just as long as the explosion thrusts me in the direction of the cave’s entrance, I’m good.

I finally spot it, a frame of faded white rock that marks the entry into a maze of crystalline caves. With zero hesitation, I aim right for it. Jori’s right there with me, until he seems to realize that I’m diving headlong into a sheer rock wall, and the only part of it that isn’t going to hurt is too small for his gargantuan form to fit through.

Jori hesitates, and that’s exactly the lead time I need to go tearing into the cave, giving the dragon no choice but to pull up to keep from crashing into the ridgeline.

“Oomph,” I grunt when the front of my already-battered sandcycle clips a towering crystal pillar just inside the cave’s entrance. I go spinning, and my chest slams into the handlebars, sending a shock wave all the way down my spine before the rest of me goes tumbling off.

“Nailed it,” I croak, from where I’m sprawled out on the gravelly ground once I finally stop skidding.

I give myself a moment to let the healing get a jump start on things before I try to peel myself off the cave floor.

My gaze dances across the lofty ceiling, taking in the breathtaking clusters of crystals dangling from it like stunning chandeliers Mother Nature picked out and personally hung. The light streaming in through narrow holes high above paints the walls in dazzling hues of purples and blues. The center is filled with all kinds of crystal pillars, many as big as towering trees. The crystals have smooth surfaces that gleam with pinks and peaches that deepen into reds and purples depending on the light of day. The smaller clusters are still bigger than most drakes, boast of blues and greens, and the pretty little crystalline bouquets that fill up all the spaces in between gleam like stunning sunsets with edges sharper than most blades.

I played here a lot when I was younger, drawn to the beauty, the quiet, and the danger. There’s so much about it that’s familiar, and yet so much has changed in the years since I was here last. Resigned, I sit up and get to work. A rib quickly snaps into place, but the sting of it fades as my affinity hurries to heal me. I gently jog deeper into the warren of crystals, stripping out of my riding gear and chucking pieces of it down several winding paths as I go.

Carefully, I climb to the hidden higher levels of the caves, scaling the walls until I get to a familiar flat, gemlike stone that’s shining brightly with the early morning sun. I study the pulley system attached to it, and while rusted, it looks like it should still work. I pick my way over to the levers, and with a grunt and some serious effort, I finally get them to budge just enough to angle the sun-kissed crystal just right. The bright rays bounce off other gleaming gems and create the exact effect I need.

There’s no sign of Jori. I figure he’s waiting for backup before daring to enter. Meaning I’m back to that hurry-up-and-wait holding pattern that I love so much. It’s like I’m trapped in the bottom of a draining hourglass and each second that passes promises to drown me in its depths unless I find a way to break free.

The problem is, I’ve run the numbers, and as much as I initially planned to run, to track down my Flight and get them to safety at all costs, I realized that my odds of success are infinitely higher if I have The Horde backing me on all fronts.

Finding my Flight is a priority, but so is figuring out why the Syphons can’t reveal and unmasking the traitors in our midst. All of which is infinitely more possible if we have an inside man in Four Tiers—or, better yet, an inside woman.