Page 136 of Wrath of the Dragons
“I will,” he answers as I settle myself in Venatrix’s saddle, and watches as I hook the straps to my harness. “And you must show them who you are, El. They were fools to make an enemy of you. Now slaughter them for it. You are the dragon queen; you are everything your father feared you’d become. Force him to watch as you burn his reign to the ground.”
Chapter
Sixty-seven
Cayden
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The sun illuminates the pebbles and dirt raining down from the peak of the sloped terrain. Our horses stomp in place; most of them are battle-seasoned and know we’re at a disadvantage. Horns blare, closer now, signaling the cavalry to prepare to charge. Banners displaying both the House Atarah and House Liluria banners crest the top of the hill, and a long row of soldiers follows.
A horn blares again, and they stop at once. The line stretches back as far as I can see. I nudge my horse in the side, signaling Koa to step a few paces in front of my army. The soldiers grow antsy around me, and I can’t blame them—they don’t know what’s happening. Zarius has made sure of that.
“Hold your ground!” I command. I couldn’t risk revealing the plan to anyone aside from the water and fire cults who helped it come to pass. Their blood oaths forbid them from betraying Elowen and me. If Ryder or I had worked on it, we would have been noticeably absent, but Zarius was able to shroud the surroundings while the cults worked.
“Archers!” I shout, giving Finnian the command.
“Nock!” Finnian orders as the charge begins. “Loose!”
A volley of arrows flies overhead, spearing through several horses and enemy soldiers. I watch as some are trampled beneath their oncoming army, their bodies swallowed up in seconds. I unsheathe the blade strapped across my back, but keep it lowered at my side as thousands of battle cries fill the air. Another wave follows upon Finnian’s command, taking out several more as the enemy aims their spears, coming at us with the promise of death on the ends of their pointed tips.
“Steady!” I call out. My soldiers can’t move yet. Even one mistake can ruin the plan.
I take a moment to glare up at the obsidian spires of Imirath’s castle cutting through the clouds. I began this fight for my mother and for myself, avenging two deaths that took place that day despite only one soul crossing into the underworld. Becoming the worst version of myself was necessary for survival, to get myself to this moment, when a boy born with nothing to his name can challenge a king.
“Do not fight for me—fight for yourselves, fight for your families, and fight for whoever you left behind who will suffer if you fall today! Don’t fight for glory—fight because each enemy you kill is another threat eliminated. I do not fight with you as only a king; I fight with you as a man avenging his wife, and a son avenging his mother. Fight with the outrage of those who were trampled under the weight of this war and the corruption of Garrick Atarah.” I shout above the symphony of war as the enemy continues to near. “Ride with your swords drawn and bestow death upon those who challenge you! You show no mercy, you give no grace, and you kill every last bastard who stands between your queen and her rightful throne!”
Hundreds of branches snap, exposing the trap as a mixture of Imirath and Thirwen soldiers fall into a cavern hidden by various things from the terrain: twigs, snow, rocks, moss, and leaves. They’re unable to slow their horses given the speed they gained from charging down the hill. Their eyes widen with fear as they jerk on the reins, but it’s in vain. Bodies upon bodies pile on top of one another, helpless and immobile, stacking up like bricks.
Ophir and Asena commanded their cults to dig as deep as they could, both using their element-wielding to their advantage. Water mages pulled on the water within the damp earth to create the curved trench, and the hill at our back prohibits the army from surrounding us, even if they could manage to jump the gap. Fire mages melted through boulders and defrosted the earth under their fingertips the farther they dug. Zarius utilized his illusion magic to mask the entire plot, and didn’t have to use it to shroud the trench.
The mages blended it perfectly with the earth around it.
I raise my sword high into the air when the trench is stuffed to the brim. Hundreds of dead on their side, and not a single casualty on ours yet. “CHARGE!”
Chapter
Sixty-eight
Elowen
“Zayèra!”
Venatrix’s red flames cut a line down the beach, engulfing the enemy soldiers climbing out of rowboats and trying to run toward the battle. Our allied forces advance on the tide, firing cannons to push Imirath and Thirwen back as they fight for position. Smoke rises where I patrol the beach and castle in the clouds, and though we’ve put a significant dent in their navy, the remaining ships are still numerous and filled with skilled sailors. I unhook the crossbow from where it’s strapped on Venatrix’s saddle and command her to descend.
The wind screams in my ears, nearly drowning out the warning made by a soldier on deck. “Dragon! Dragon approaching!”
I tighten my hand on the saddle horn, aim at a woman manning the cannon pointed at the peak of Galakin’s fleet, and pull the trigger as Venatrix rips into the deck with her claws, gouging deep enough to send water spilling into the vessel as she pushes it down into the sea.
Her tail drags through the ocean as she uses it to steer herself through the slim gaps between ships. My saddle straps strain when she flips upside down, letting another volley of arrows deflect off her armored scales before righting our position again.
I look over my shoulder to ensure we’re far enough from our fleet to give the command. “Zayèra.”
