Page 208 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

“Inez also said that the wyverns are thought to be Vin’nyla’s pets, carrying out her misdeeds.”

“Such as?” I ask.

“She never said. I’m sure there are fascinating stories.”

The clearing ends, and we are forced back to single file as the trail is absorbed by a swath of trees and ground cover that allows for little light. Tyree takes the lead, guiding our horse through the thick bramble of thorny vines.

I pick off a burr that clings to my cloak, wincing at the pinch. “This path does not get much use, does it.”

“More than I would like,” he whispers, pointing to impressions in the forest floor, one where a boot sank into the moss, another where something else sank. Something large, with claws that gouge.

“How fresh are those tracks?”

“Too fresh.” He draws a dagger from its sheath.

Unease slips down my spine as I twist in the saddle. “Did you check this area—” A scream tears from my lungs as I lock eyes with the beast slinking up behind Destry, she and her horse oblivious to their impending doom.

The next few seconds happen almost too fast for me to process. Tyree is out of the saddle, launching his dagger. It strikes the creature in its chest. The beast’s resulting screech reminds me of the daaknar that night in the sanctum, after it bit Romeria, so shrill it scatters the birds roosting on branches.

Somehow in all of this, the reins landed in my hands. Tyree slaps my horse’s rump, sending it rushing forward, away from immediate danger.

I crane my neck to watch behind me, frightened for him.

Destry follows, trusting her horse, her eyes closed and her pendant in her fist.

Tyree draws two swords.

But the creature has vanished.

“Where is it?” He spins on his feet, searching the bushes desperately.

My pulse pounds in my ears, though I’m not sure I’m breathing anymore. “Destry, where is it?”

Movement in my peripheral snaps my head to the right. My scream sits in my throat, unable to escape as it steps out from behind a tree, a low growl creasing its snout.

Tyree dives forward to place himself between us, his blades up.

It stands several heads taller than him, tufts of gray hair sprouting over its gangly body. The claws at the end of its arms are shaped like hooked daggers, surely capable of carving open torsos with a single swipe. Broken chains hang from its wrists.

But it’s not attacking. It’s easing forward on its hind legs as if in a daze, Tyree’s dagger protruding from its chest.

Destry is controlling it, I realize.

“Kill it!” I hiss. “Before she loses her hold, and those claws leave you looking like Ezra.” Or worse.

My words tear Tyree out of his own daze. He swings his sword, opening its throat.

It topples with a gurgling sound and a thud.

My heart still pounds in my chest despite the terrifying moment being over. “What was that?” And will we run into more while in these woods?

“It is a beast from Azokur,” an unfamiliar female voice answers as a sharp point pricks my throat.

58

Tyree

Three conjurers waited for us, hiding within the trees, their red robes swapped for ones that match the color of the forest floor. Twenty soldiers are with them, dressed in leathers that blend into the bark and branches.

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