Vahly tripped on an olive tree root but caught herself quickly. They were speaking through thoughts. I wonder if it has to do with my bond with the gryphon.
Nix swooped low. Whatever it is, I’ll take it. Let’s use it to our advantage, hmm? I’ll speed past the rogues, then blast them from behind.
Vahly swallowed and loosened her shirt’s tie, even though it wasn’t tight against her neck. Watch out for the gryphon.
Of course.
And Arc, will you focus on securing the gryphon? Vahly asked. I’ll distract the rest. Your air magic is more reliable, and you can control your strikes to keep from hurting the gryphon.
Arc nodded as they hefted themselves over the boulders so they could take the rogues from above.
Vahly jumped into a circle of seven human-like rogues—Baz was missing—and scattered them as she drew the sword Amona had given her so long ago. Sweat slicked the ivory hilt, but she didn’t pause. Rage ringing in her ears and magic sluicing through her veins, she drew the blade across the face of the first dragon to attack her—Roke. Righteous indignation had taken Vahly, and no guilt burdened her soul. Roke’s hands went to his ravaged face. He tripped backward and stumbled into the fire, knocking smoking logs through the clearing.
Nix blew dragonfire at Luc and three others, then she struck out and managed to gouge Luc with her immense back talons, digging deep into his groin. He dropped, dead before he hit the ground. Arc cast bright orbs at Tadeo and another dragon, and they howled, most likely temporarily blinded.
Baz had the gryphon tied loosely to a holm oak, like a horse to a tether. The rope, knotted tightly like a noose, was nearly hidden at the neck beneath the gryphon’s new feathers and fur.
Vahly’s chest seemed to cave in as their bond screamed, and she gasped, pressing a fist against her ribs.
Three times larger than he had been when taken, the gryphon flew left and right, evading Baz’s blasts of dragonfire. Baz laughed at the gryphon, then turned and blew a torrent of fire at Arc.
Vahly flipped her sword to cut up and under Tadeo’s wing. The blade severed the joint completely.
Tadeo shifted into full dragon form as he shrieked. He lunged, fire roaring from his jagged maw.
Moving faster than she ever had, Vahly cut the ground with her sword, lifted the sandy blade to block the rippling flames, and commanded the earth to rise.
The ground shook.
Magic pounded Vahly’s ears and heart, and everyone still alive fell to the quaking earth, unable to stand as trees shook branches onto the ground and cracks cut through the grasses to break the camp into a maze of broken dirt. Vahly swallowed and prayed she wasn’t about to accidentally kill her friends. The rogues’ eyes went wide, mouths open to breathe fire. The earth lifted Vahly to standing as she shot a look at Arc, willing him to free the gryphon.
Arc hoisted himself up and threw a knife. The silver blade slashed the gryphon’s tie.
Her chest tightened with power, her magic longing to speak death. “Destroy!”
The gryphon dove for Baz—the unshifted dragon lay on the ground, dazed by Vahly’s earthquake. The gryphon’s razor-sharp beak pierced the dragon’s exposed throat, then clamped down. The gryphon shook his prey, and Baz’s neck snapped. He flopped in the gryphon’s hold.
An olive tree, a holm oak sapling, and salt cedar slipped into the earth, as if pressed by an invisible hand. After threading into the sandy mud, the trees erupted from the ground, each in the form of the gryphon, free from their roots and creeping toward Vahly’s enemies. A sound like cracking branches poured from the earthen creatures’ mouths and sent a shiver down Vahly’s back.
The rogues who remained alive—four in total—seemed to realize their leader was lost. Fear ate the wild confidence from their features.
They blew fire at the earth gryphons.
Flames swallowed the salt cedar gryphon, and its remains grabbed the wind and flittered away. The other two earthen gryphons flew over and under the blazing tongues of heat before racing toward the rogues.
Circling the rogues, Nix flashed a straight, focused line of fire at the largest dragon’s back.
He spun to return the favor, but the olive tree gryphon flew at his neck and took his spine in a flash of glistening nettle teeth that had to be strong as steel to do the damage they did.
The olive and oaken gryphons turned to face Vahly. For direction? With a grunt, she pointed her sword at the last three rogues, and the gryphons—the true familiar included—rushed the enemy dragons and attacked in a horror of blood, leaves, twisting roots, claws, and rioting feathers.
Silence blanketed the air.
The last rogue’s emerald face paled as the wind grabbed the earthen gryphons and broke them apart into nothing.
Vahly’s legs folded beneath her, and she hit the ground hard. Blood oozed from her earlier head wound. Her sword arm throbbed with the burn of dragonfire. She fell forward, palms to the earth, her bones clacking like an old woman’s.
A soft head nuzzled under her arm, and a beak as smooth as a river rock touched her cheek. She lifted her eyes and smiled, drawing the gryphon closer. The gryphon stared with eyes that were both innocent and wise, reminding her of Etor—Arc’s horse that had been missing since the day Arc had headed into the marshes to help her.
Nix and Arc collapsed beside them.
Arc pushed sweat-slicked hair away from his face. Two lines of dark blood ran down from his pointed ears. Nix remained in full dragon form. Her snout pressed against Vahly’s back. The gryphon glanced at Nix, then at Arc. Arc nodded at the gryphon, telling him to allow the contact with Vahly.
Vahly shook her head, unbelieving. Her own band of breakers was developing new habits to support its tiny culture of misfit fighters. She put a hand on Nix’s cheek as Nix settled onto all fours behind her and Arc.
I’m sad that Roke had to go. Nix licked a wound that leaked from a spot between her front talons. But time could not be spared to speak with him.
Vahly’s temples pounded. She hated that kill, too. He might have been talked onto their side, but the violence had escalated so quickly. It had been Roke or her familiar and—
An image materialized in Vahly’s mind, separate from her own thoughts.
She froze, watching as an imaginary Roke spoke to a nearly transparent Baz and Luc. The young dragon nodded and smiled, his form hazy like a plume of smoke. He turned, and there was a deer beside their campfire, its body trembling as it died. He smiled and tended the fire, not bothering to mercy kill the simplebeast like he should have, showing no respect for the creature at all.
The illusion faded.
Vahly blinked at Arc and Nix. Did you see that too?
Nix’s long neck stretched, her crystalline spikes sparkling, and then she cocked her head at the gryphon, giving him a questioning look. Was that you, youngling?
Vahly’s heart lifted. I truly think it was. She opened her arms, and the gryphon came closer, allowing her to hug him tightly. He smelled like bruised herbs and animal musk.
Arc’s deep voice massaged Vahly’s mind. The gryphon’s ability to communicate turns this band into a proper battle unit.
Vahly stroked the gryphon, whose back end couldn’t fit in her lap. His lion tail flicked the bloodied ground. She was too exhausted to say more, to do more.
As Arc healed Vahly’s head and Nix’s wound, Arc and Nix began a good-natured argument about the ins and outs of what the gryphon’s power would mean and how it had intensified with his ongoing growth.
The gryphon himself overwhelmed Vahly. She ran a hand along the rose-gray feathers that cloaked his stout neck. They were soft and fitted perfectly, like layered ovals in a game board.
The gryphon clicked its beak, cooing at her touch, his head already well above her own as he grew second by second, little by little. His presence relaxed Vahly and helped her accept the atrocities as a horror that could not be avoided. Here was one creature Vahly would never con and never wanted to.
&n
bsp; Vahly gasped as the gryphon opened his mind to her and showed images of her battling the rogues, her face fierce and determination like a brand on her features. Somehow, through the bond, she could feel his respect for her. His dedication hummed like a song, haunting her heart with a love that was new but felt ancient.
The gryphon’s name bloomed inside Vahly’s head. The urge to speak it pinched at her throat.
The gryphon nudged Vahly, then he stood on all four lion paws, gaze piercing her.
“The gryphon’s name is Kyril.”
Nix hoisted herself up and roared in approval.
Giving Kyril a playful smile, Arc bowed. “A pleasure to know you.”
Kyril flashed an image of the sky through Vahly’s head, then he bent low, at her feet, edging his wing out of the way.
Nix bumped Vahly’s back. Is this another show of submission?
Vahly blinked and flexed her hands. He wants me to fly with him.
Arc stepped closer, rubbing his hands together. “Well, go on!” he said aloud, his excitement apparently making him forget to use telepathy. “And test your magic with him while you’re aloft. Perhaps you’ll discover a new way to fight the sea folk.”
“Easy for you to say, elf. You aren’t the one who’ll be dragged through the heavens. I have to think about this.”
Nix snorted and pawed the ground. Get on the gryphon, Vahly. Nix’s lemon eyes examined Kyril. He’s your soul mate or whatever. He isn’t going to drop you. That’s insulting to a flyer, honestly. Don’t even bring it up.
“My familiar.”
Nix growled.
“All right. Fine. I’ll go up. But you’re coming along and taking Arc with you.”
Arc’s eyes widened. He stilled his hands and looked from Vahly to Nix, tentative hope tugging at his features. Dragons did not allow anything to “ride” them.
Vahly snorted. “After all we’ve been through, surely you don’t care about the old conventions, do you, Nix?”
We would have an edge in the air. I realize that, Nix said. But how is he supposed to sit on my back with all these spikes?
“If I may,” Arc said, leaning closer to Nix at her nod. He studied the space behind her neck and between her wings. “I do think I would find a seat just there.” His hand indicated a narrow spot behind one of the mid-sized spines and a row of lesser spikes.
Well, I once dressed as a male to get into a competing smuggler’s hoard inside the city of thieves. This can’t be much worse than that degradation.
You really hate trousers, don’t you? Vahly said.
I don’t mind the type we wear under dresses, with the fine lace and the silken details. Do not judge me, darling. I’m a female, and I love being a female. I’m a proud dragon, and I love being a proud dragon. I must weigh the costs of straying from who I am. The vertical slits inside her eyes opened wide, then narrowed, evaluating Arc and most likely imagining how it would feel to fly with a burden between her wings.
Then she lowered her head and shifted her wing.
Arc put a foot on her bent foreleg, then did what Vahly was beginning to think of as an elf-leap. He landed exactly on the spot he’d chosen.
Skin rippling, Nix shook. Arc grasped the spike in front of him to hold on, his hair loose around his face. When Nix settled, Arc beamed at Vahly. The youngling he had been stared out of his ancient eyes.
“Are we ready?” Vahly pressed a hand against Kyril’s pelt. Warmth and magic sparked down her arm, sweet and comforting.
She climbed on and straddled Kyril’s back. His wings spread wide, fanning into a glorious show of feathers alternately tipped in black and white. Rearing, he nearly threw Vahly off, but she managed to clutch the mane-like fur beneath his neck feathers. Her pulse throbbed, and her hands sweated so much that it was difficult to hang on. She really hoped this wasn’t the worst idea they’d had yet.
Jumping at the sky, Kyril lifted off, his wings beating the air as the ground dropped farther and farther away. Both cool air and warm drafts slid across Vahly’s cheeks, tangled her hair, and tugged at her clothing. Her smile was so intense that it actually hurt her lips, but of course, she didn’t care.
“This is even better than taking all against Aitor!”
Nix flapped her azure wings and rolled one big eye. You might have a problem, my dear. We will discuss your gambling addiction once you save the world, all right?
Vahly leaned close to Kyril’s head, his feathers tickling her chin and nose. “Can you outfly that obnoxious dragon over there?”
Would he understand her? What if he only—
Kyril ripped Vahly’s ponderings right out of her head as he sped up, then dove toward the mottled patches of scrub and grapevines growing along the sloping mountains. Vahly let out a triumphant shout as he veered left, taking a sharp turn toward a cliff face beyond the limits of where Vahly had traveled, farther into Jade territory.
Show off! Nix shouted. I suppose he doesn’t need my lessons. A natural flier! Her laugh flavored the tone of her voice. I like him, Queenie! But you tell him the only reason he has the best of me today is because I’m still healing. I’ll annihilate him in speed and maneuvering when I’m at my best again.
Arc’s head was turned toward Vahly, and she knew he was analyzing Kyril’s every move for later discussion.
The cliff face raced at them.
Kyril? Vahly thought to him. We might have a chance against the sea folk. Let’s not end our lives this quickly, if you don’t mind.
Every crevice came into focus. Closer. Closer. Vahly’s heart slammed against her ribs.
“Kyril!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ryton sliced the water like a spelled shell knife, the dragonfire burns he’d suffered during his first run-in with the Earth Queen stinging. It was time to stop mulling around the ruins, hoping the Earth Queen would return. He had to use this terrible creature he’d taken on and climb out of the sea. Today.
A shudder tore him, from both the thing on his back and the idea of being above water for an extended length of time.
Zipping through an array of blood-red jellyfish, he reached the gentle rise of rocks that led to the shoreline north of Bihotzetik, a goodly distance from where the Earth Queen and her minions had been last time. He would need to gather himself onshore, to make certain he truly could function on land, before he attempted the killing.
His toes gripped the small rocks, and he slipped, swimming again.
No, I must walk, he chided himself.
His foot slammed against the pebbles and raised whirls of grit. Head clearing the surface, he took an experimental breath and surveyed the immediate area for signs of life. A few birds flew by, black and raucous, but no larger beasts—human, elf, or dragon—showed themselves. His lip curled at the thought of being so close to his greatest enemy, the murderers of his sister, while he was out of water. Fear lanced his need for revenge, and he realized he was shaking badly.
“You had better work, monster,” he hissed at the black creature he carried.
A cough ripped his throat, the raw air burning and scouring. He bent double and put his hands on his knees, and his lungs worked like a dying squid inside his chest. The creature hummed with magic. A bolt of energy surged down his spine.
With a shout, he jerked upright.
Pain trailed the magic, but then the sensation faded. He could breathe properly. Touching his gills, he realized they had reduced in size and lay flat on his flesh as if in hiding. A chill raged over his limbs, and he stumbled, falling to his knees. He froze as his fins diminished in a manner similar to his gills. They remained visible but were less stiff, and their seaweed color faded to match his skin.
Ryton’s stomach turned. The change was so much like the dragons’ version of transformation, how their wings and talons lessened in size and their scales softened into more elven features. He forced himself to take three deep breaths.
The pebbles of the coastline spilled onto a knoll covered in dry seaweed�
��no, it was called grass. The material scratched at his feet, but not in a harsh way. It was odd, but not painful. It was all so strange. He looked around to see rising mountains, the base of their incline only a short distance away.
Something moved along the shore.
No, it was the rippling shadow of a creature flying.
Blinking furiously, he tried to see the sky, to keep looking up and away, but the harsh white seared his eyes. A headache throbbed between his eyebrows.
Rubbing the pained spot, he searched for cover, head down. He couldn’t have the Earth Queen and her minions seeing him before he had a chance to attack.
But there were no caves here. Not one large enough to hide him.
Perhaps farther south… But he could smell the Earth Queen that way. His own camp couldn’t be that close.
Camp.
He groaned.
Hopefully, he could end this without having to spend more than a few hours above water.
Pressing onward, dizzier than he’d ever been in his entire life, he found a stand of trees with thick leaves, wide as his two hands side by side. The growth grabbed the sunlight and drowned it, leaving the space under the sporadically spaced limbs blessedly dim.
He collapsed in the midst of the foreign plants.
When his breathing grew regular and his headache faded, he maneuvered himself so he could view the entirety of the coastline. He couldn’t yet look to the skies though. His eyes needed more time to adjust.
To keep his frustration tied tight, he rummaged around to discover a rock for sharpening and went to work on his shell spear. Whispering magic, he strengthened the weapon.
When he stretched to set the stone on the ground, a gust of raw air hit his face. He began coughing again, cursing this place for even existing.
Once he murdered the Earth Queen, all of the land and its horrors would be doomed to die when Queen Astraea saw fit. It would be over quickly after that. How could his sister Selene have been so interested in this place? Why had he himself been fascinated with shipwrecks and human oddities? This place was a nightmare, and he would be glad to see its end.
Band of Breakers Page 15
