Page 109 of Wings of Destruction

Twenty-Three

Kieran

Will dying on the rocks below do any good? Probably not. Cracking my skull open like a melon won’t motivate me and it won’t eradicate my worries and doubts.

I’ve got a whole lot of them and enough interest to give the rocks a good stare and mark the path of least resistance to the ground, then steer clear of it. I make my way to the edge of the outcrop and sit, the soles of my boots skidding over stone.

This stretch of cliff is directly across from the dragon aerie. The sharp jut of rock looks over a steep drop into the cocoon of dark treetops far below. It’s impossible to distinguish individual leaves from here.

Dangling my legs over the edge always made me wonder what it would be like to fly on my own without the help of a dragon.

I’d be a terrible dragon rider if heights bothered me. Even out here with a monstrous wind gusting like it actively wants me to tumble, I’m not afraid.

I can’t return inside yet. I’m too jittery and hyped from the meeting last night.

The small row of caverns is a secret place known only to the elite in this place. Tristan never goes there, preferring the rich comforts of his bedroom when he has guests to entertain. Only the bravest find their way to the row of hollowed out indentations on the rock face.

In the moonlight, the world is a spectacular picture of silver and gray and black.

Astrid’s predictions turned out to be spot on. Baldur and Xalu, the two freshmen boys she’d tapped as tentative allies, turned out to be everything we’d hoped for and more.

They were intelligent and dedicated, with enough steel in their spine to be unafraid of what came next.

They were also sensitive to our stance.

Baldur had lost a brother to the General’s war march. Xalu’s uncle had been captured when the hydra leader was taken down at Duenden. So far, word hadn’t come on whether the man still lived or not.

They aren’t the hardened warriors I need. Yet. But with the right amount of pressure, even the most awkward lump of coal becomes something spectacular. Something priceless.

We all had work to do and a part to play.

Now, if I could multiply Xalu and Baldur and have twenty thousand more of them…

We’d be in a much better position, Mozi supplies.

His voice in my head is louder as he dips through the air overhead on his way back from feeding. I lean back on my elbows, the stone sun warmed and heat sinking in through the cracks of my leathers.

This is where Mozi and I come to talk. He’s swiftly winging his way home. The air in my bedroom had tasted stale and stifling. I’d had to get out.

Out there, with nothing but sky and forest, there’s more space to think.

Do you really think they’ll be trustworthy? Mozi growls and the sound ripples through me even though he’s at a distance.

I think it’s a good enough start. They have both lost people they care about. It’s one of the most powerful motivators.

Mozi mistrusts most humans and with good reason. We both agree on it, although generally, I find him the more cautious of the two of us.

If you are convinced, then I am as well. It is a good start, he finally concedes.

We have to proceed cautiously of course but it is a good start. Even two more members at this point counts for more than I’m willing to admit.

I sniff and my eyes tear up through the gust of a ferociously chill wind. If it heralds the coming autumn, then we’re going to be in for snow. Maybe I’ll have a legitimate excuse not to go home for the holidays, and my wish will come true.

I won’t have to see the General’s face over plum pudding.

Speaking of the general, Mozi reminds me, Astrid’s news from the castle?

My faint bubble of bliss pops immediately.