Page 22 of The Midnight Death Match

“Message from the council,” he shouts, voice distorted by wind and magic. “Turn back or be claimed.”

I shout back, “Claimed by what?”

He doesn’t answer.

Einar and Sapphire circle, my father throwing more magic at the attackers.

One of them throws another disc at us.

Vash barrels under it while Harek rises to his feet in the saddle, hands crackling with fire. “Hold him steady!”

“What are you doing?”

He leaps. Onto the glider.

Sapphire darts underneath, clearly ready to catch Harek if he falls.

I stare in horror and awe as he wrestles him midair, shoves him off the glider, then somehow steers it toward us. At the last second, he dives, finally landing hard behind me just as Vash levels out.

Now only two gliders remain. One peels off. The other vanishes. They aren’t defeated, just retreating.

Vash growls low in his throat, and I understand why.

That wasn’t an attack.

It was a warning.

Chapter

Ten

The glade is unnaturally quiet,and it sets my nerves on fire. Maybe I’m just feeling hyper-vigilant because of the midair attack. Hopefully that’s it, but I can’t ignore my instincts.

We land in a clearing ringed with ancient trees, their branches knit so tightly overhead they cast the ground in perpetual dusk. Moss carpets the rocks, softening every step. The only sounds are the drip of water from the canopy and the low rumble of dragons breathing.

Einar dismounts first, scanning the tree line with narrowed eyes. “We’ll rest here. I don’t trust the city roads after that ambush.”

He disappears toward the north edge, scouting for threats or perhaps needing some solitude.

I slip from the saddle, land softly. Vash shifts, muscles tense. I run a hand along his shoulder, trying to soothe him.

Harek dismounts. “I think he wants to chase them.”

“I can’t blame him.”

We work in silence for a while, removing the harnesses, checking the dragons’ legs, settling them beneath the overhangof a stone bluff. Sapphire nestles close to Vash, and the way their tails brush says they’re as tired of running as we are.

I stretch my arms, sink onto a flat rock, then tip back my head to watch the filtered light flicker above.

Harek crouches across from me, elbows on his knees. He starts to say something, but the wind shifts and the air changes.

My head snaps up. I leap to my feet. “Did you feel that?”

He nods, already moving toward me.

A foreign magic fills the air. It isn’t like mine or Einar’s. It feels older.

“Stay close,” I whisper.

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