Page 30 of Fae Reckoning

He neighed.

“Thank the Ethers,” Rush muttered. It was his stallion he’d sent into the Sorumbra with me.

“Einar?” I asked.

“Who’s Einar?” asked Ryder.

“The big black dragon.”

“I don’t see ‘im,” Roan said.

Rush materialized a lumoon, and shortly after several others surged, dispelling much of the dimness. We were crammed into yet another large, dusty room. Wooden planks made up the walls that enclosed us, afew tiny pinholes of daylight streaming through. Familiar unmarked crates and sacks rested against a couple of the walls, and three doors lined the adjoining hallway. They were closed. No beds or “sleeping” fae occupied the space.

There was no big, black dragon. Nor did I find the green dragon either, for that matter. I did, however, spot Azariah. And at the unisus’ side was Ivar, somehow still astride his horse. The sight of him wasn’t as ass-clenching as seeing the queen, but it was close.

“Guys,” I exclaimed, “we’ve got a major problem. Look who’s hiding in the corner behind Azariah and Bolt.”

Severalfucks erupted into the shocked silence that followed my announcement. Scuffs and shuffles scraped the floor as warriors stood, several blades drawn with softshwiiiings. With somewhat unsteady steps, Rush, Hiroshi, Ryder, and Roan charged.

Ivar clutched a cutlass in each hand. The light of the lumoons gleamed along their sharp, curved blades. With a fierce snarl contorting his angular face, he kicked his horse’s ribs hard. The stallion leapt forward.

There was nowhere to go. The room might be large enough to fit most of us like arrows in a quiver, but it was still only at most thirty feet wide?—

Ivar’s warhorse leapt over a wooden table, the sole piece of furniture in the room. Wood crunched and splintered as Edsel and Pru scurried out of the way. Tossing his head, rearing, and stomping his muscular forelegs, the steed was heading straight for me.

I flicked frantic looks around me. Dammit, there was no escape! I was pinned between his advance and a wall.

Hiroshi, Ryder, and Roan dove out of the way of the thundering hooves, crashing into Bertram, Bolt, and Azariah. Rush, however, flashed a glance at me, regret tugging on his eyes. His tattoos glowed in a sudden surge of thorny vines before he rolled along the floor, popped up onto a knee—and lungedintothe horse’s stampeding path, dragging a dagger along the animal’s front and back legs.

The stallion keened in a heartbreaking pitch as his legs buckled.

Rush twisted out of the way. When he rose to a crouch, gripping the dagger as if ready to attack again, my held breath released in a sharp exhale.

Blood, the same deep, rich hue as a dragon’s, coated the edge of Rush’s blade. The violet ichor spread along the horse’s dragon-like scales, slickening them.

Ivar spurred him again, urging his steed forward, blood splattering his boots. Stumbling, the animal bleated in agony at the blows Ivar inflicted while Reed shouted, “Stop that!”

Ivar only kicked more, until the horse cantered ahead—toward a solid wooden wall. The queen’s advisor dipped his head and said something into the stallion’s ear. The horse reared while Ivar leaned onto his back to stay on. The horse’s hindleg trembled but held, stomping down onto the planks with a booming crash.

The wall cracked. Again, and this time the planks broke, the rough edges tearing at the slice in the creature’s leg. Ivar lowered his head to his ear another time, then the horse clamored up and over the debris with unsteady steps—and staggered outside.

Ivar was escaping. While I had no desire whatsoever to be in his presence, worse was to have the queen’s most trusted confidant free and plotting our demise. As I deliberated if and how we should catch him, Xeno loped past me. He didn’t slow as he jumped through the opening in the wall. He landed lightly despite his bulk—ever the warrior, trained from the time he could first walk to defend dragons—and tore off after Ivar, pulling his shirt over his head and letting it fall as he ran.

Several of the others opened a door that led to the outside and hastened through. Yet others exited via the hole in the wall after Xeno. I was among them.

Just as I was noticing that Rush wasn’t with us, Bolt leapt over the broken planks, clearing them in one jump, and landed gracefully, zigging to the left to avoid the crowd of us gathering outside the cabin, and galloped after Ivar and Xeno with a burst of speed. His muscles rippled beneath slashes of scars that hadn’t been there when I’d left him in the Sorumbra. The stallion charged along a faint path that wound into the dense forest surrounding us. Rush leaned low across his back while branches whipped at them as they flew past.

Xeno’s pants lay shredded across a gnarled tree root, next to his boots, which were intact, suggestinghe’d paused to kick those off at least before shifting. A roar I’d heard many times before in Nightguard bellowed farther along the path, out of sight, scattering birds to the sky in droves and sending critters scampering into underbrush.

The thundering footfalls of the horses faded.

I looked at the others, relieved to find Ramana in West’s arms, her eyes closed, and the four other sleeping fae hovering beside Roan. Aside from how defeated Azariah looked, everyone else outside appeared unharmed. Saffron snuffled along my nape.

But where were Einar and the green dragon? Since Rush had made it, would the green dragon have done so too? My matehadbeen touching him…

“Einar,” I called out loudly, turning in a circle. The trees were tall here, towering over us. “Einar,” I shouted again.

With a thunderclap, a tree snapped from the opposite side of the cabin. My heartbeat sped up. The tree crashed to the ground hard enough to shake the earth. Leaves rustled violently as the canopy smashed against the ground—and ripped through the roof of the cabin.

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