Page 169 of Vasmora

MAEVYTH

Wind hurled against my back, my tunic flapping wildly around me as I fell through the sky.

Down. Down.

I flailed my arms in a futile attempt to grasp something, but only thick gales of cold air slid across my palms. A scream ripped from my chest, high-pitched and raw, and as I continued to plummet, imagining the impact against the sand, I sent up a silent prayer that the pain would be quick and death swift.

Closing my eyes brought little peace, my refusal to die clawing at me, before a sharp slap struck my arms, legs and back.

I snapped my eyes open to an engulfing cluster of black wings. Hundreds of wings that merged together, sealing themselves and moving in one cohesive stroke. My stomach rose to my throat as my descent came to a sharp halt, and I gasped, turning myself over to find a broad expanse of feathers and scales.

Raivox!

If my heart hadn’t sank to the pit of my stomach, it would’ve soared right then. I hooked my claw into his rough scales, dragging myself to the horn at the back of his neck.

Raivox!

He let out a roar that echoed around me, and I released a tearful cry of laughter, wrapping my arms around him and resting my cheek against his feathers.

Alive!

Adrenaline coursed through me, my muscles trembling and weak as I held tight to him.

“Hell’s teeth! Would you kindly quit poking me with your claw!”

At the familiar masculine voice, I swung my attention to a second Corvugon flying alongside Raivox. On its back, rode a woman in the garb of a Lyverian warrior–black leather, feathers, a skull chain at her hip. The most telling detail was the raven painted across her eyes and forehead.

From her Corvugon’s claws dangled a stocky man who looked an awful lot like Corwin Grinsgaith, kicking his feet as the beast carried him through the air.

“Corwin?” I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head.

Had I hit the ground and died, after all?

I craned my neck to the other side, where a third, smaller, Corvugon flew after us, absent of a rider. My mind reeled back to the day Raivox had taken me to his nest and I’d seen the two Corvugon eggs there. Could it be …?

Again, I glanced over at Corwin, and his lips stretched to a smile as he waved.

Brows tight, I waved back, entirely confused.

Shouts from below broke my thoughts, and I dropped my gaze toward the ground, where a cluster of black tore across the white sand toward the Wrathborne and wolves still stuck in the ground. Spider mutations. A horde of them.

Zevander’s scorpion furiously dug around one of the mercenaries, working to get him loose, but most of Lothare’s men remained trapped, wriggling and jerking, seemingly unaware of what pushed toward them on the other side of the sand dune.

“Down, Raivox.”

The Corvugon dove quickly, the wind whipping my hair around my face as we skimmed the surface of the sand.

“Mutations! Over the hill!” I bellowed, passing over the men below, and Raivox surged upward. His wings flared outward, holding us midair, and I clutched his horns to keep from slipping down his back. A torrent of silver flame spewed from his mouth, showering the front line of mutations. The other two Corvugons dove from the sky, zipping over the horde. Silver shot from their maws, as they targeted the spiders skirting around those Raivox had hit.

Flattening his wings, Raivox leveled and shot forward, flying head-on over the advancing spiders, blanketing them in a searing liquid. One reared back, its body frozen in place like a metallic statue, limbs reaching for the sky. Others frantically clawed at the air, only part of their bodies coated in metal. Enough to anchor them in place.

Still, others charged across the sand toward the trapped Wrathborne.

Raivox banked right, circling the interdune.

While his scorpion dug away at the sand, Zevander raised his palm, sending an arc of flame around them, creating a barrier.

“Help them.”