Page 35 of Wrath of the Dragons
We fight through, making our way to the back of the crowd. Netherwraiths flow between the buildings like several streams leading to a river. Did Sorin sense something amiss? Is that why he’s been uneasy this entire time?
I shake my head, clearing my thoughts for now.
Cayden pulls something from his back pocket and rips a pin out of a black-and-silver orb while slicing through a beast. He tosses it as far as he’s able, and fire erupts, swallowing at least fifty netherwraiths in the flames as the ground shakes.
Then, with blood trailing down his face and in the midst of battle, Caydensmiles.
I command Sorin to bring the flames closer, watching as whatremains of Aestilian is bathed in fire. I can’t build a pyre for every fallen citizen, but I can offer them this. These are my people, and Ailliard may have referred to me as the discarded princess of Imirath, but this is the kingdom that chose me, that will follow me to war.
We continue battling and inching back toward the portal as more citizens file through. Sorin’s flames make my eyes water and ash sticks to the blood covering me. A creature rakes its claws down my leg, and I slam my knife through it, ignoring the blood and pain.
Magic pulses at my back, making me shiver. The beasts delve into a frenzy to get away from the flames, but Sorin roasts them. Ryder wraps an arm around Saskia’s waist, casting one final look to Cayden before ushering her through the portal. Finnian fires his last arrow, but I shove him through before he has the chance to draw his sword, a weapon he has never favored.
Cayden throws an axe with so much force the beast he hits crashes into another rapidly approaching. It screeches when Sorin’s fire grows closer, slowly melting the flesh off the bone. All I can see is fire and blood. The portal begins shrinking, and Cayden’s arms are around me before I have the chance to warn him, and together we fall into a pit of whirling midnight wisps with Sorin.
Part II
An Heir to Rise
Chapter
Seventeen
Cayden
I shove my hand beneath Elowen’shead to keep it from slamming into the ground, scraping my knuckles on a tree root protruding through the soil. Our chests press together as we catch our breath, listening to loved ones calling out names or shouting for healers. It was a massacre. I’ve seen my share of gore and tragedy, have fought countless battles both honorable and not, but never have I seen beasts attack in such a frenzy.
I plant my elbows in the dirt to give Elowen room to breathe. “Your leg.”
“Your chest.” A netherwraith managed to sink its claws into me during the chaos of our final moments, but it’s not fatal, and at least it wasn’t a venomous bite. The bright red blood from where the wound pressed against her further ruins Elowen’s blue-and-gold ensemble. I kneel and pull her up to a sitting position to inspect her injury, but she distracts me by pulling at my shredded shirt.
“I’m fine,” I insist. “Once I wash the blood off, you’ll see the wound isn’t that deep.”
She drops her gaze to her leg. “I’m the same, it’s already clotting. They’ll both scar though.”
“Oh, the horror,” I mutter.
“Was anyone bitten?” Elowen turns to our other companions slumped in the grass, all too winded to form words but they shaketheir heads. “I don’t have healing supplies to stop the venom if anyone was.”
“What about Nyrinn?” I was loading her trunks when the beasts came, and I shoved the woman through the portal before she could protest. Elowen would’ve been devastated by her death.
Elowen’s head whips around, frantic until she sees Nyrinn amid her trunks, stuffing her belt with herbs and tonics and giving orders to Aestilian soldiers around her. “I should help her.”
The sound of retching makes us turn in the opposite direction. Finnian is slumped over and violently trembling as he clutches his stomach. Elowen springs toward him, rubbing his back and pushing the sweaty hair off his forehead.
“Was he bitten?” Ryder shoves to his knees.
“It was like before,” Finnian rasps through bloodless lips, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “So many families lost. So many children now orphans. I couldn’t save them.” Finnian isn’t with us, I realize. He’s lost somewhere in his mind.
Dried blood flakes off his cheeks when Elowen frames them, unconditional love written plainly on her features. “Your mother, father, and sister, wherever they are, are thankful you weren’t in the house that night. What happened to them was a terrible tragedy, but I believe they find solace in your heart still beating.”
Finnian’s eyes fill with tears, and he crushes Elowen to him, burying his face in her neck as his body is racked with silent sobs. We’re all covered in gore, but Finnian holds her as if she’s the only thing that can take his pain away. I offer Saskia a hand up, and then Ryder, the latter clapping me on the shoulder.
Where Finnian’s eyes are water, Elowen’s are pure fire as her anger burns. “If this was an orchestrated attack by Imirath or Thirwen, I want the people responsible dead before nightfall and their heads on pikes.”
“Mage!” I call out, not remembering his name.
“I don’t want a lesson on the gods from Ophir. I want to mount a dragon and burn their fucking camp,” she growls as Finnian releases her. “If this was their first act of war I will gladly respond.”
