Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

  But these dragons? These dragons would kill every single one of them. It wouldn't even take their full force.

  The alpha's eyes narrowed as they headed back toward the entrance. It did not lower its head, but its scales did move halfway back. The smaller one lay back down, placing its head on its forelegs.

  As they passed back around the bend, Amelia glanced over her shoulder. The smaller dragon remained with the eggs, but the alpha had vanished. So had most of the rest. Fog obscured the majority of the canyon, turning it into a shifting grey-white sea. The spikes and bone plates of a few dragons were visible, cutting through the fog like shark fins through the sea.

  She tightened her grip on his horns and braced herself. The fog had a dampening effect on the sound. Dragons were down there, but their wing thrusts were muffled. Low growls rumbled up.

  As they moved into the pass, more dragons appeared overhead. None were sleeping or grooming now. Even the moonbathers sat up and watched with great alertness. The fog rolled below. There seemed to be more dragons now than before. Above, below, before, and behind.

  Her fingers curled tighter.

  They were still deep enough within the canyon that she couldn't make out the entrance.

  She glanced back again.

  A familiar wine-red crest with jagged horns emerged from the fog, the silver eyes narrow and glowing.

  She swallowed hard.

  The alpha was following. Dozens more trailed behind him, some flying, some crawling along the canyon wall.

  Claws grated, breath hissed. Stones clacked and fell. Low guttural growls rumbled through the air.

  They passed the stone spire Naatos had slammed the first small dragon into.

  An hour left.

  Please.

  She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Please.

  With each minute that passed, more and more dragons appeared. Whenever they tried to fly higher, the dragons blocked their path. Naatos didn't press to push above but instead kept a steady pace through the canyon. Several dragons now flew on either side of them, all outside of striking distance, but close enough she could make out the individual dagger-shaped scales and see their sides expand and contract with their great deep breaths.

  Tacky whimpered inside the satchel, but it made no move to get out. It had curled up entirely in the bowl. When she slid her hand in to comfort it, Tacky only lightly brushed her fingertips. It was terrified.

  So was she.

  WroOth's unease chilled her even more.

  Those deafening wingbeats continued, more irregular now that there were so many. And every time she looked back, the alpha was there, keeping pace as if this were just a leisurely stroll.

  And perhaps it was.

  Perhaps?

  No.

  She swallowed hard, her nerves tight.

  These were enormous reptiles, territorial and aggressive reptiles. They might play, and they might form bonds, but this wasn't sparring. The brothers might have masked themselves perfectly as the dragons, but something had given them away. The wrong vocal utterance, an improper scent, an incorrect response, anything.

  Of course—

  WroOth had said that they were created to hunt Vawtrians. What if that meant that they could smell Vawtrians regardless of what shifted form they took? What if it meant they could trap Vawtrians too? Out on the plains, they could have given them a good fight, but the brothers would have easily repelled them and escaped. In here though?

  She cast another glance around the canyon.

  The alpha had vanished from sight.

  She looked around again. Several of the dragons had disappeared into the fog as well.

  The flare of concern that surged through WroOth alerted her that he had noticed it too. Everyone had.

  All had gone silent except for the beating of their wings. Too silent.

  They navigated the next bend. Some of the rocks looked familiar.

  How long had it been?

  It felt as if they had been here forever.

  Another bend, then another. The canyon widened and narrowed.

  She squinted, peering through the mist and moonlight.

  The entrance!

  They were almost there.

  Her knuckles whitened.

  Something whistled in the air above.

  Gut tightening, she tilted her head back. Her elmis flashed with awareness: predators.

  A horrid jolt nearly flung her off as WroOth bellowed in pain. He lurched up and away, using his back claws to tear into the dragon that had shot up from beneath the mist and caught him in the chest. Before she could even scream, another struck him in the side. Her head scraped the base of his horns, then suddenly the world was tipping over.

  Blinking, she realized her elmis were burning again. "Above!" she screamed.

  WroOth barely responded in time, veering to the right and putting a stone spire between them and the attacking dragon. But already more were screeching in.

  WroOth twisted around and then banked upward. Two dragons pursued, a third sweeping in from the left to cut him off.

  Chaos had erupted. Three or four dragons had beset each of the brothers, driving them farther from one another. She recognized the roars, felt the fear and adrenaline, smelled the blood.

  "Hold fast!" WroOth roared. He dodged another attack and then shot straight up the canyon wall blocking them from Dry Deep.

  She ducked her head against his chest as she held on with all her strength, her stomach twisting and screeching.

  Up, up, up they went. Then the wall ended in a broad flat swath of stone hundreds of feet in width. On the other side lay Dry Deep, dark and mysterious.

  WroOth spun around to avoid another pair of dragons coming for him. Then he zigzagged through the sky, climbing constantly higher. Four more soared above, teeth gleaming, claws shining.

  A fifth clipped him on the left, driving him back down.

  "Hold fast!" he shouted.

  Twisting around, he dove down, angling toward two boulder slabs angled against one another.

  Holding fast was all she could do. The world blacked in and out. Everywhere she looked were more dragons, teeth, and claws.

  The stones raced up at them as the wind screeched in Amelia's ears and tore at her face.

  WroOth pulled up at the last minute, his claws scraping against the leaning stone. Two of the pursuing dragons slammed into the stones. The boulders rocked, then tipped, crushing them.

  WroOth swept up again, another two in pursuit. A third shot down from above. WroOth veered away so that it didn't hit him in the back of the skull but instead struck him in the back. Bones crunched, scales rattled.

  The howl of pain seared through Amelia's consciousness. Not just the pain of the blow but the healing as well, raw bone melding back together, flesh stitching back into place, muscles reattaching.

  The two from below surged forward, one bashing him on the right, the other following suit as they tore at him. He barely ripped free and jetted back into the sky.

  The whistling in the air announced yet another. Three more.

  Amelia stared up in horror. They'd learned WroOth's trick and adapted.

  A great claw seized her.

  Terrified, Amelia fought to stay in place. No—WroOth!

  In the breath of a second, she realized it was WroOth who had grabbed her.

  "Whistle!" he bellowed, then flung her up and away.

  She barely grasped what was happening as she sailed up into the air. The dragons converged on him, one clamping onto the back of his head, another on his spine, a third on his leg. A fourth struck him in the gut.

  Then he erupted in flames.

  76

  Reinforcements

  Amelia stared down in horror. WroOth?

  The blast of the fire reached her even at this height with a pungent scent of smoke and sulfur. Two of the dragons fell back at once, one badly burned. He kicked back the third and shook off the fourth, their armor bright with heat.
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  It took a moment for her to realize what had happened: he'd transformed. Not into the fire dragon exactly but a phoenix-like dragon with fire-tipped plumage. He blasted the nearest of the dragons with a long burst of vermilion flames.

  Living steel could apparently be heated even if it wasn't easily pierced.

  And she was still shooting up into the sky.

  Down below in the winding canyon, other flashes of fire and light suggested that Naatos, AaQar, and QueQoa had reached the same conclusion as WroOth. No way to hide they were Vawtrians. Time to use their skills to their advantage, especially now that any residual protection from the rels seemed to have vanished.

  The dragons that swept down from the clouds paid no attention to her. What was she to them? They had only one purpose.

  The wind whistled in her ears, cold and loud—

  Whistle!

  She seized the whistle from around her neck and thrust it between her lips. With all the strength of her lungs, she blew into it. It made no sound that she could hear, but they could hear it. Holding it tight, she blew and blew and blew. Then she started to fall.

  That horrible rushing twisting sensation of gravity ripping her back to earth made her want to vomit. She kept the whistle between her lips and clutched the satchel with Tacky close.

  This was insane!

  WroOth tore free from the attacking dragons, blasted flames in the face of the nearest, and shot toward her.

  She cringed, the heat and scent of the fire burning her eyes even from this distance. This was going to hurt.

  WroOth extinguished the flames right before he reached her, then grabbed her with one heated claw. The whistle fell from her lips, bouncing against the strap. She barely caught her bearings before he flung her.

  Two more dragons struck him in the back and the stomach again, tearing into him.

  The sound muted as she sailed up and up into the air, the cold night wind ripping at her hair. Already dread gripped her as she thrust the whistle back between her lips and blew out every second of breath she could.

  Explosions of fire and energy marked out where WroOth and Naatos were. QueQoa she couldn't see now. The ice flares arcing up from one dark ridge were most likely AaQar. And then dozens and dozens of dragons, scales shimmering in the moonlight. Most simply watching while they took turns attacking the intruders.

  Agh, no, no.

  Time for the descent.

  She cringed, holding the satchel close. Tacky whimpered inside.

  Her lips hurt from holding the whistle, but she kept it going as steadily as she could. Not hearing it made it even worse.

  Down, down, down she fell.

  Another dragon shot down from the clouds, ignoring her as the ripples from the air currents shook her. Its roar shuddered through her with painful clarity.

  The chaos of the battle below intensified with each passing second. It was getting harder not to flail as the stone spires and jagged rocks screamed up at her at an alarming pace. Her muscles clenching, she forced another blast through the whistle.

  A blue claw seized her and jerked her in beneath a ledge.

  AaQar!

  She collapsed against him, her legs shaking. All her muscles went loose. "This is so bad." She drew her hands over her face, gulping in deep breaths. It still felt like she was falling.

  "They're keeping everyone apart. It's a smart tactic," AaQar said. "They're smarter than we thought. Too smart." He blasted another long column of ice venom into the face of a charging dragon. It dropped from sight into the mist.

  "AaQar…" Amelia let her voice trail off as she stared up at him, noticing for the first time what a bad state he was in.

  A deep bloody gash across his chest refused to heal. He'd had a similar wound in the palace in his human form, complete with the jagged dips. In Naatos's dream as well. The thundering of his heart was loud enough for her to hear it raging from here. Even the flesh pulsed as his heart fought to keep going.

  That haggard expression had returned to his face, present even within the dragon features.

  "There's a reason they aren't coming for me as hard," he said when he noticed her watching him. He swiped his claws over his chest to wipe away the blood but failed to do more than smear it. "This is an old tactic. And the saliva is toxic. Not really venom but—"

  "Toxic bacteria." She covered her mouth, horrified. She hadn't even thought about that possibility.

  He nodded, then lunged forward to snap his jaws at yet another attacker. Pulling back, he drew in swift breaths as he struggled to get enough air.

  A heavy thud shook the stone above them; another dragon fell from the cliff. That intense presence was unmistakable, grating over her mind like claws on stone and granting some measure of relief at the same time.

  Naatos. If anger and rage were emotions he could channel into greater strength and focus as a shifter, he had to be nearly unstoppable at this point.

  Even that probably wasn't enough. There were just too many.

  "I think I might have that healing salve. Maybe it will help." She started to dig into her satchel with the books.

  "It won't help. This is deeper. Much deeper." He was still panting. "Save it. Naatos is making the break. I'll be able to fly again soon."

  Another dragon lunged in. AaQar drove it back. Above, the scuffle intensified. Naatos, now in his black storm dragon form, fought against four as they dragged him away from the overhang.

  WroOth struck the opposite wall of the canyon, directly across from them. "AaQar! No more time!" Two more dragons slammed into him. "Throw her out of here!" Driving his head back, he once more exploded into flames. The armor on the dragons heated with the fire, driving them back almost at once.

  "Throwing her?!" Naatos tore free, his eyes wide with rage.

  That look in his eyes, the mood roiling off him. Wild, enraged. Cold calculation and dragon scales couldn't hide the truth. He was fighting for focus even now. Not even touching her.

  And what could she say?

  What comfort could she really give?

  "I'm fine!" she shouted at him. "We'll make it."

  He growled deep in his throat as he glared at his brother. "One of you get her out of here!" He lunged backward as another dragon attacked him from the front. Seizing it by the throat, he shot a pulse of fragmented energy into it.

  The dragon bit into his throat, its teeth puncturing Naatos's thick black scales. Snarling, Naatos drove his claws into the dragon and intensified the pulse. The dragon froze, then collapsed into grey-white dust.

  She stared, almost in awe. Naatos was good at killing. That was his skill. Even as a dragon. Perhaps especially so. He grabbed for the next one, ready to waste it to dust as he had the other.

  AaQar pulled her back, sliding under the overhang and then spitting out a stream of icy venom at the nearest dragon. It spun away, but another flew in to take its space.

  "We'll have to risk flying. I'll protect you as long as I can, but—" He dipped his head forward, his breaths uneven. "Come on." Gritting his teeth, he forced another transformation into a dragon she'd never seen before: long and lithe, grey with greasy scales and a tapered weasel-like snout with narrow teeth and bat-like wings. The wound in his chest reappeared as if the flesh simply couldn't hold itself together.

  "Are you sure you can fly?" she asked.

  "I have to." He drew in a deep breath, then wrapped his claw around her. "Let's go. I won't throw you until I must."

  Until, not unless. But being thrown was better than dying. She gritted her teeth as she braced herself. Maybe it was for the best it didn't feel as if she'd stopped falling.

  As Naatos and WroOth continued to battle the dragons, AaQar shot out. He snaked around the stone spire and flew up at an angle, gaining height and momentum far slower than any of the others. But the greased scales were enough to allow him some added protection.

  One dragon shot off AaQar's side in a glancing blow that sent the dragon headfirst into a pillar of grey-black ston
e. The resounding thud and crack as well as the collapse of rubble warned that pillar wouldn't hold long.

  So long as he could move just enough that the blow wasn't full or it was little more than a graze, the dragons slid away Augh, leaving only minor wounds compared to their usual strikes.

  The alpha maneuvered out of the fog up onto one of the broader ledges, his scales flat and his eyes sharp. The mist clung to him like a cloak. Utterly tranquil, he stretched out like a lion on a rock in the sun, his wings half folded along his back.

  If her gut was right, he was almost ready to attack. But what was he waiting for?

  AaQar lurched, nearly dropping her. An attacking dragon had driven itself straight into the middle of his back as he maneuvered around another pair. The wound over his chest expanded as his wing thrusts weakened. He scraped onto the top of a pillar and collapsed against it.

  Amelia pressed her hand to his shoulder. "AaQar, stay awake!"

  Blearily, he lifted his arm. "QueQoa." He hurled her then with what little strength he had left.

  Soaring back up through the air, Amelia thrust the whistle back between her lips. QueQoa was relatively close, but he wasn't doing much better than AaQar. He'd returned to the iron dragon, but he no longer had six limbs; he'd reformed with only four. His left arm hung useless, the wings on his left side drooping as well. The bad shoulder. The one where the cabiza had bit him weeks ago.

  Still he flew toward her, avoiding another attack on the way. He seized her neatly in his right claw, the tips of one talon grazing her arm enough to draw blood.

  "Your arm!" she exclaimed, unable to take her gaze off the twisted flesh and seeping wound.

  He nodded heavily. "It's bad." His left wings were dragging more as well though he maintained the form.

  He dodged another attack, but the talons raked down his side, peeling back scales and digging into his flesh. Bellowing with pain, he arced away, his fist clamping around her so tight she thought she might break.

  "QueQoa!" She pointed down as two dragons shot up from the mist.

  QueQoa dragged himself higher, trying to move out of the way. But the two dragons struck him hard, one in the gut, the other in his bad shoulder. A third appeared from behind the spire and struck him on the other side with its armored snout.