Age of Dragons

by Olivia Ash

  As we clear the tree canopy and come across the grassy expanse of the south fields, most of it's on fire. Ribbons of black smoke pollute the sky. At its center, two tanks lay overturned in a soot-covered patch of dirt. There, in the middle of it all and sporting a stockpile of rifles and ammunition, is Tucker.

  He fires shot after shot at any dragon who goes near him. All around him, Spectres dressed in all black and Knights in silver Kevlar vests race toward him, unleashing a hailstorm of bullets on his position.

  Never one to go down easy, Tucker ducks for cover and fires off seven shots through a gap in the tank. Instantly, six Knights go down—followed by a Spectre.

  Somehow, Tucker's become an even better shot since we got to the dojo. Perhaps it's because he finally has access to the best weapons money can buy.

  Even if he did technically borrow them from Jace.

  We angle toward him, but as we careen toward the ground, an orange dragon falls from the sky.

  I've seen him before. He's one of the dojo soldiers, and he hits the ground hard as a Vaer dives toward him. Stunned on the ground below, it looks like he either can't see or can't react to the sharp claws headed for his throat.

  I veer away from my men, racing toward the soldier and snatching the Vaer out of the sky before he can get to the dojo soldier. We tumble toward the ground as I dig my teeth into the Vaer’s neck. He screams in pain, scratching at me as he tries to get away.

  Not going to happen.

  I use our momentum to hurl him into the trees and catch myself by spreading my wings wide. I slow even as he careens into the woods, taking down tree after tree before he hits the dirt. A thick branch cuts through his chest, and he lets out a final scream before collapsing onto the ground.

  I snarl in victory, white sparks dancing along the edge of my nose as I return my attention to the dojo soldier. He scrambles out of the small crater, his skin still smoking as he shakes his body to loosen up his muscles and get his bearings. He nods at me in thanks before taking off to rejoin the fight.

  Levi and Drew land beside Tucker, roaring as Jace flies toward me.

  But I don't need backup.

  As I near them, Tucker lifts his gun.

  At me.

  But—but he would never.

  The air around me shifts, a little warning bell going off in the back of my mind as I look over my shoulder to find a Vaer almost on me.

  Jace snarls, lightning building in his throat as he prepares to take the soldier out, but Tucker fires before Jace has the chance.

  The dragon goes down.

  I let out a slow breath. That was way too close.

  Jace lands on the grass beside Drew while I land on one of the overturned tanks, my wings spread awkwardly to help me keep balance as I still figure out this whole flying thing.

  When I’m sure I won’t fall over, I stretch my long neck and nuzzle Tucker briefly in gratitude. Thanks for the quick shot, babe.

  He winks at me, lifting his rifle as he returns his attention to the war around us. “I know how you can thank me later,” he says, grinning as he fires off four more bullets.

  Two Vaer dragons go down, their heads recoiling as they get hit.

  A few bullets ricochet off my scales, but they feel more like bee stings. I snarl at the Knights nearby who dared to fire at me, and they hesitate, their eyes going wide with fear as I glare at them. They drop their rifles in panic, running away into the forest beyond, and I snort an annoyance.

  Damn right. You better run.

  I take the moment to survey the battlefield. Jace and Drew cover each other's backs, spinning effortlessly and blasting fire and magic into the air. It's a treat to watch them battle as a team. It's like they were built to fight together, two masters taking out anyone foolish enough to go near them.

  Levi and Tucker fight as a seamless team as well, and I'm impressed. Levi freezes his opponents with icy blasts from his throat as he races through the battlefield like a ghost. Tucker covers him effortlessly, picking off anyone who goes near his friend.

  I growl with pride.

  The whistle of something cutting blindingly fast through the air catches my attention, and I lift my gaze as a Vaer barrels toward me and Tucker.

  I snarl protectively and launch into the air toward the dragon. He fires a blast of ice at me, and I'm tempted to duck it. It would be fairly easy, after all, even with my awkward flying— but I can't risk it hitting Tucker.

  So I decide to take the hit.

  I grit my teeth, snarling as I let it break across my chest. Magic burns in my throat, my dragon doing its best to instinctively protect us both, and the blistering cold burns through me. I can feel my scales freezing, feel the muscles slowing as they tense, nearly paralyzed from the icy blast.

  But my skin is thick, thicker even than most dragons. Though the icy blast burns furiously, eating away at my nerves and sending ripples of pain through my entire body, my magic builds brighter in my throat as the two of us barrel toward each other.

  The ice starts to melt away, chipping and breaking off of my skin as I fly. As the two of us collide, the last of the ice breaks off.

  Victory.

  What would have utterly disabled others barely hurt me at all.

  I dig my teeth and claws into the dragon, trying my best to keep my magic at bay and just kill this guy the old-fashioned way. His claws carve deep gouges into my skin—into my shoulder and back. He snaps at the air, trying to bite any part of me he can reach.

  Not going to happen.

  We tumble to the ground, both of us furiously flapping our wings as we try to recover, but I refuse to let go. My magic burns brighter within me, my dragon calling it forth even as I beg her not to.

  There it is—the familiar lack of control I felt when I was first learning to rein in this incredible power.

  Shit.

  I can't hold it back. Not this time.

  I pivot so that my back is facing the ground, my head to the sky as I grip the Vaer tighter. I dig my teeth into him, locking my jaw to ensure he can’t wriggle free. I refuse to let go of him, even as my magic aches to escape.

  If my magic is going to force its way out of me, it's all going to hit this guy.

  He seems to realize something's wrong, and he begins to panic. He furiously beats at the air with his wings, clawing at everything he can reach. Even though he draws blood, breaking open my beautiful scales, I don't let go.

  Not even a little.

  My magic snakes out of me, hot and fierce. It burns through him as he takes the full brunt of my power.

  He screeches into the air as the white light fills his every vein. It illuminates every inch of him from within, and as he arches his back to scream one last time, he dissolves into brilliant white dust.

  With nothing to hold on to anymore, I tumble alone toward the ground.

  Time to recover.

  My wings snap open as I try to slow my descent. I beat the air hard, flapping furiously as I try to take once more to the air, but I can’t make it happen in time. I hit the ground hard and tumble across the grass. My claws dig into the dirt, kicking up clumps of weeds and earth as I slide to a stop.

  When my world is finally still, I pause and let myself catch my breath. My chest heaves, my wings lifting with each intake of air as I try to regain my balance. Above me, the wind carries off the ribbons of dust that were once a Vaer dragon, and he fades to nothing.

  My magic—it’s even more powerful as a dragon.

  And, yet again, it’s difficult to control.

  This can destroy whole cities. This could probably kill thousands, all at once.

  The thought shakes me. For a moment, I'm shaken by the very idea. The concussion still rocks through me, my head spinning, but I’m also dazed by the sheer power in my bones. In my blood. In every fiber of my being.

  I take a deep breath to settle myself, puffing up my chest and spreading my wings with pride. I can handle this. No matter how tempting the magic might be to use, I
won’t risk the lives of the Fairfax dragons. Of my men.

  I won't fail the people who count on me.

  It’s time for me to get back to my men in the south field—and before I can do that, I have to figure out where the hell I am. I stretch my wings, about to take off, when I see a familiar flash of dark hair in the firelight of a nearby blaze.

  Next comes the glint of cold steel in the light.

  Green eyes that practically glow in the darkness.

  Irena.

  My sister ducks a blow from a woman with dark hair who's facing away from me. As the two of them grapple for dominance, the woman throws Irena onto the ground and steps into the light.

  Zurie.

  Irena gets to her feet, but Zurie quickly kicks her onto her back again and lifts a long dagger. She’s ready, then, to deal the final blow. My former mentor wrinkles her nose in disgust as she looks down at Irena.

  No.

  I won't let Zurie take my sister from me.

  I refuse.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Driven by instinct and a primal need to save my sister, I race toward Irena and Zurie.

  I don't have much time, and I'm too far away.

  But I try anyway, pushing myself to my absolute limit, stretching my wings and soaring harder, faster than I ever have before.

  Zurie lifts the blade over her head and dives it into Irena. Even from here, I can hear the scream of utter, earth-shattering agony.

  Zurie lifts her dagger again, and this time the blade is covered in blood. Red drops slink along the blade and trickle from the tip of the dagger. My former mentor braces herself in the dark night, lit only by the fires around and prepares herself to strike the final blow.

  I'm so close.

  I can almost taste Zurie's blood.

  I push myself harder.

  Faster.

  Before I can make it to her, a green dragon barrels into Zurie, snarling as he tackles her to the ground. His claws dig deep into her side, leaving dozens of gouges across her body.

  Eric.

  A surge of relief shoots through me, but we're not out of the woods yet.

  Irena groans in misery, stirring from her place on the ground, and I'm grateful she isn't dead.

  Yet.

  The fact that she's not getting up means she's hurt bad, possibly worse than I imagined.

  I'm facing a choice, one with no easy answer.

  Eric snarls as he recovers, his claws digging into the ground to slow his momentum as he faces off with the Ghost of the Spectres. He's good, that much is sure, but I truly wonder how good.

  Irena might be dying, however, and my loyalty is to her above all else.

  I bolt toward her, sliding across the ground as my face hovers close to hers. Her brows are scrunched in pain, her eyes closed. As I near, she peeks through her lids and flinches in surprise.

  It takes a moment for her to recognize me, and I figure she must be in even more pain than I thought if she doesn’t know who I am.

  I mean, sure, I’m a dragon—but there aren't too many diamond dragons hanging around here.

  She winces. “I'm fine,” she says through gritted teeth. “Go help Eric.”

  I growl in annoyance at the blatant lie, watching as blood spews and bubbles across her fingers from the wound in her abdomen.

  “Go!” she snaps.

  I snarl, making my opinion of the matter very clear.

  She needs a medic.

  I lower my head, nudging her slightly to help her sit up. As much as this hurts her, she needs to get on my back so I can carry her to safety.

  “Fine then. Help me up,” she says with her hands still firmly planted on her side. Her fingers press against the injury as she tries and fails to keep pressure on the gaping wound. It continues to drain across her hand with no sign of slowing.

  Gritting her teeth, Irena sets her other arm across my nose and awkwardly gets to her feet. She limps, unable to walk in a straight line, and I press my stomach and neck to the ground so that she can climb onto my back. She limps along, moving as quickly as she can and staggering with every step. I use my wing to steady her as she slowly climbs onto my back.

  I just hope I can find a nurse in time.

  With Irena’s arm holding tightly to the base of my neck, I take off, trying to fly as smoothly as I can despite my lack of experience. Otherwise, she might go careening off into the trees below.

  As we approach the dark towers of the embassy, I scan the ground, looking for anyone who even closely resembles a medic.

  To my relief, I spot one of the nurses who helped Irena and Tucker recover. She tends to a dojo soldier who's laying on the ground in his human form, still but breathing as she finishes tying a bloodstained bandage around his leg.

  Thank the gods—they've created a field hospital in an alcove along the side of the embassy, one that forty dojo dragons are viciously defending.

  This will work.

  I dive. The dojo soldiers watch me as I fly toward them, flanking me to give me added protection as I head toward the makeshift facility.

  Without much in the way of grace or elegance, I land in the center of the small field. The ground rumbles under my feet, and the nurse’s eyes go wide as she spots me.

  Now that I have the woman’s attention, I lower my head and tilt my back slightly so that she can see Irena. The movement says everything I need to say, all without speaking a word. As I lower my wing, trying to help Irena off, she doesn't move.

  Bad sign.

  I try to build a connection with her through her limp hand against my neck, but nothing happens.

  She's out cold.

  I growl with concern, nodding toward my sister on my back and looking at the nurse to get her moving.

  The nurse races toward me and grabs Irena, gently lifting her off of my back and laying her on the ground.

  “I need help!” she shouts over her shoulder at two other nurses I hadn't noticed before, who tend to other patients in the shadows beneath one of the many walls in this alcove. The two women look up, nodding as they briefly finish what they're working on before running toward us.

  I hesitate, wondering how I can help. What I can do to make this better.

  The nurse can tell.

  She gently sets her hand on my nose. I pause, wondering what the hell she's doing. I allow it, though, and watch her with a blended flurry of concern and confusion buzzing through my brain.

  If you want to help us, she says through our connection, if you want to help your sister, then you need to end this battle. Now.

  I stiffen, wondering how the hell I'm supposed to do that. But with one look at Irena, I know that's exactly what I have to do.

  She needs a hospital, not a field medic, and I growl with rage as her face slowly goes white.

  I take off into the sky, my wings beating at the air as I race back towards Zurie and Eric. I reach them in moments, and I figure the one way I can end this is to kill Zurie. If she's dead, the rest will slowly filter out. She's driving everyone forward, all for her own selfish means.

  The woman will die.

  She and Eric are still dueling. Zurie rolls across the charred grass, and as she slides across the slick ground, she pulls a high-caliber handgun from a hidden holster. With deadly precision, she fires several shots from the weapon.

  Right into Eric’s chest.

  No.

  That’s point-blank range.

  Even with a handgun, that’s a death sentence.

  He roars in pain and fury, spewing blood as he snaps at her. She ducks out of the way, rolling to the side as she lifts the gun to fire again.

  My wings carving through the air at breakneck speed, I race toward them, desperate to save this man. Irena is finally opening up to someone, finally learning how to love and trust.

  I can't let the man who loves her die.

  The cold air streams across my face as I barrel toward Zurie, ready to bury my claws into her. I’m ready to taste blood and rip her to
shreds for everything she did to destroy my life. For all of the ways she tried to kill me and the people I love. For all the ways she controlled me through the years and tried to break me. Tried to sell me. Tried to destroy all the good things in my world.

  And I'm so close.

  I'm so close to justice.

  There’s a screech, a sort of whistle through the air, and a white dragon dives at me too quickly for me to evade. He barrels into my side, screeching as he knocks me off course. We fall to the trees below, crashing through the canopy.

  And as we tumble, I see Zurie fire another shot.

  With this one, Eric goes down.

  No!

  The word echoes in my head, and I want to scream it. Instead, a deafening roar escapes my mouth as the white dragon and I crash across the ground.

  Furious, livid, and fueled by bloodlust, I fling the white dragon off of me. He barrels across the ground, his spine cracking against a tree. The trunk splinters, taking the full brunt of his fall, but the bastard still gets to his feet.

  He shakes his head, trying to recover from the blow, and trains his piercing eyes on me. His wings spread in challenge, and it takes me a moment to recognize him.

  It's been so long since I've seen him in his dragon form that, at first, I thought he was just another dragon in the chaos.

  Once he pauses to watch me, however, I recognize that glare.

  The greed.

  The lust.

  It's Guy fucking Durand.

  I growl, furious and full of fire. It’s disgusting to think that this man, of all the people in the world, would be the one to keep me from saving Eric.

  That he would be the one to keep me from killing Zurie is just inexcusable.

  I don’t enjoy killing, but I won’t mind snuffing him out at all.

  We launch at each other. The moment he charges, he fires a blast of ice toward me. I duck the frosty beam, backhanding him with my claw to throw off his aim. The ice hits a tree behind me instead, freezing it instantly and shattering it to nothing.

  Seething with hatred, I dig my teeth into him. My dragon is furious, and she calls on my magic yet again. It burns in my throat, ready to fire.

  This exhausted, this bruised, this bloody—I'm having more and more trouble keeping my magic at bay. I don't want to hurt anyone else, but I have no problem hurting Guy Durand. As long as I keep him in my jaws, I should be able to release the magic my dragon is summoning without hurting anyone important.