Page 9 of Wings of Destruction

We manage to gain elevation but the quaking in my knees is ill timed.

The trail winding up to the caves is twisted, and loose gravel and stones threaten to break a few bones if we aren’t careful. I send Emory to the front of the pack and position myself at the tail end of our procession, for protection.

Fifty people. I’ve managed to find fifty people with the rest of our fighters out there struggling to survive.

Will the blood soak into the dirt and grow lush flowers for next year?

“Hurry, hurry,” I mutter, sending each new person on their way.

The caves will do temporarily.

My back bows, and the necklace grows hot, heavy. I slick my tongue over dried and cracked lips. The field is filled with unicorn riders cut through with the sinuous dark figures of the basilisk and their riders. Odious creatures.

Basilisks are huge and impossibly fast snakes, excellent for rocky terrain that unicorns can’t handle. They aren’t as fast as hydras but much stronger and larger. Their tails are strong enough to decapitate or bust through rocks, some of them barbed.

But our herd is trained, and unicorn blood can heal wounds if freely given. Their horns are stronger than steel and the only thing known to break through dragon scales.

We’re prepared.

I suck in a breath and hold it. I have to believe we’re prepared.

The hydras are a different element to consider. With multiple heads and massive poisonous fangs, they’ll eat anything in their path if given half the chance. They might be smaller than most other mounts, but this is no disadvantage. They are fast and scary as the Void when they gather together.

They’re also smart enough to claw at their fangs to gather poison to decorate their claws.

As I watch, several of our riders go down with dying screeches under such an attack. We’re holding our own so far but for how long? My arms quake in time with my legs, and I force myself to look away, to haul over the next ridge of stone.

“Don’t worry, Morgan.” Someone pats my hands, and I tear my attention away from the field to see Lanai at my side. “Your mother knows what she’s doing. I have no doubt she will lead us to victory.”

It’s a different story than the one she told about Illonia before but I’ll take it. I swallow hard, the muscles in my throat constricting and swelling, and force a nod.

“Of course,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster. “She always comes out on top.”

“I remember how hard it was for her when she lost your father. But she’s the kind of woman who always comes back tougher for the disaster. You mark my words.”

Lanai pats me again. The rise evens out into a landing around six feet wide, the mouth of the cave disguised between two ancient boulders.

Emory and Nen enter first, and the rest of our group piles in. The back of the cave extends into the mountainside and gives us enough space to roam, to breathe, without the press of claustrophobia.

One, two, three.

I count heads and pull up short when a shadow passes overhead. The sky darkens unnaturally, and I shut my eyes for a moment against a swell of sickness so strong I clamp down on the urge to vomit.

The dragons are here.

I finally force myself to step outside, to look up.

The last embers of hope die out and leave nothing but ash behind, sodden and terrible ash dragging me into a pit without light. The first bellowing roar from the sky shakes even the roots of the trees around us.

The dragons have joined the battle, turning the tide against us.

There’s no way out of this.

Someone in the caves screams at the sight, and I watch in horror as the horde of so many wings blot out the sun.

Three

Kieran