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“Fight well,” I said back.
It wasn’t until I was riding away, when the thread between us was stretched thin as a whisper, that he sent me a breathtaking swell of emotion through the bond. No images, no words. It would not have fit inside either. The sensation hit me hard enough to nearly knock me out of the saddle, and then it slammed closed, sealed behind whatever wall he had built to keep everyone out.
Thelastfirehydra’slonely grave stood undisturbed, a pile of dull gray rocks to mark it. I could just make it out from atop my horse, a hundred yards to the east of where I sat. I wondered if any of my Silver Company shared blood with the minor Terror. A dead Terror. The last of its kind.
Who would bury us if we fell here?
No one, that’s who. Brenna left her own people to rot in the sun rather than waste time and resources claiming their bodies, and we had vowed to fight to the last.
Here lies the nameless dead, an army of Nightmares. The last of their kind.
To the west and at our backs was the pass with its upturned dirt and sharpened stakes. There was one ballista right behind me, and two more in the pass, all on horse-drawn wagons. One good shot was all we needed to kill the dragon. Laming it further would force Brenna off, but it wouldn’t be good enough for me. Not after what happened with Nisang.
Devonay could have Brenna’s heart. I wanted a dragon’s head mounted on my wall. I wanted to look into the beast’s ugly, dead eyes while the three of us fucked beneath it and know it was watching from the underworld, or wherever dead dragons went.
At the far western mouth of the pass, the bulk of our forces waited in a triangle, the strongest shape. The alchemical symbol for fire and the shape of an arrow. The shape of my smithing signature worked into every blade I had made since coming to this place.
The shape ofhome.
My horse shifted, tail swatting a fly. I was thinking too much. Nerves. At least I wasn’t vomiting this time.
High on the cliff tops overlooking the pass, archers and stone throwers became black dots. I peered up at them, trying to find faces I knew and coming up empty.
I sighed. Leather creaked as I shifted in my saddle, squinting at the empty sky and silent grassland beyond. “I really wish you could talk,” I said to the Silver Company. They had formed a perfect wedge around me, shields up, spears unwavering. “This quiet is really getting to me.”
Something black moved on the horizon behind a shimmering veil of heat. I leaned forward, straining to make out the shape. Was it Brenna and her dragon? Some mirage?
No, it was a host of madmen and cavalry charging full speed.
I brought the walls in my mind down just enough.Ready!
The roar of battle became a distant crack of never-ending thunder.
Above, Odan’s voice rang out. “Archers! Light!”
I slammed the wall back up, flexed my fingers, and closed my eyes, trying to empty myself of emotion as I had done before.
“Nock!”
A bloody white rose falling, falling, flight path erratic, wings torn…
Find the lightning again, Nevahn. It’s there. You did it before, you can do it now.
“Draw!”
Hellion and Cian’s faces flashed through my mind. I reached for the empty space behind them.
“Loose!”
The shield wall around me braced, spears out.
I opened my eyes. Fire rained down on the army running at us. Black fletched arrows struck, setting tar-laden soldiers alight. They went down, flailing, screaming.
This was no organized battle charge. There were no lines, no horns, no victory cries. It was just a broken line of oil and pitch drenched soldiers, fleeing what came behind.
“She’s just a bully with a dragon,” I muttered, and raised my hammer. The air stilled. Blue sparks crackled along the metal surface of my hammer, the charge making my hair stand on end.
Something pulled at a string in my mind and that cold fire voice uttered,I see you, boy.
