Page 33 of Wrath of the Dragons
Finnian shudders. “I’ve lived in godly land all my life, but at least I got a break from all the rituals while I was here.”
“I thought you hid in the barn during the ceremonies.”
“When I was old enough to leave my mother’s side.” His eyes scanthe surrounding trees. “Before that I was stuck listening to chants for hours.”
I tighten my hand on his arm, knowing it’s hard for him to talk about his past. The family he lost when a clan burned his home down. “I’ll try to limit Asena and Ophir’s chanting.”
“Thank you,” he sighs, sounding sincere. “Blade is coming with us. I helped him pack up the forge yesterday and he mentioned that he’d like to work in Ladislava. I imagine we’ll be needing as many weapons as possible.”
Blade took Finnian under his wing when he was no older than thirteen, and I imagine he eventually would’ve taken over the forge if we weren’t evacuating. “He’ll be swimming in syndrils before the month is over.”
We stop at the target field where we’ve spent our lives training. I watched Finnian shoot his way through several bows, all different sizes to accommodate his growing form. We’ve spent nearly every day together since meeting over a decade ago, and I braved the world because it meant standing between him and whatever came our way.
Aestilian was where I grew up, but Finnian was my home.
He becomes somber, and I wonder if he’s seeing a younger version of me standing in my place. “Did Ailliard’s betrayal poison Aestilian for you?”
I’ve never truly felt content here. My need for revenge always outweighed the safety this place offered. Finnian nocks an arrow in his bow as I unsheathe a knife dangling off my belt. Red painted targets stand out against the hay bales, and I throw my first blade. “I’ve made my peace with this place, but I can’t remain here now that I know what it’s like to be part of the world I watched from behind a barrier.”
“Do you miss him?”
“No.” I needed to let myself grieve Ailliard’s death to be done with it. It felt as if I were trying to hold a broken vase together with my bare hands, constantly being cut while taking on a hopeless task. I needed to let it break fully and accept that it would never be whole again.“His actions led to his demise, and I’d never have kept him in a cell after a knife was held to your neck.”
The second knife becomes a silver whirlwind glinting in the sun as it sinks into the center of the target. Finnian and I walk toward the hay bales to retrieve our weapons, and he nudges me with his elbow. “I’ve always loved when you get murderous on my behalf. It’s like an angry kitten hissing.”
“You know, you don’t have to voice every thought in your head.”
I wrap my fingers around the hilt, but an icy sensation slides down my spine. It’s the same feeling I get while being watched. Rustling in the woods draws our attention, and we keep our weapons ready. It’s too loud to be wind, and no patrols are guarding the perimeter since we’re leaving soon. I didn’t want to risk anyone being left behind when the portal opens.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
Finnian and I exchange a glance as Sorin lets out a mighty roar, sharply decreasing his altitude and flying straight toward me.
“Attack!” I call out over my shoulder. Something is wrong, I can feel it in my bones. “Draw your weapons!”
Bells begin ringing to warn soldiers to prepare for an ambush, and I command Basilius to burn the pyre beside the castle. I brace myself, preparing to face Imirath’s army. Ailliard must have revealed the location. Garrick must have a spy in Vareveth that informed him of my movements. My nerves steady, and I don’t risk a single blink. I refuse to die here.
“All gods,” Finnian mutters.
It’s not Imirath that bursts through the trees—it’s netherwraiths. Their white fur blends in with the snow, but their red eyes stand out like twin droplets of blood. Venom drips from their exposed fangs as their feral snarls mingle with the screams of the people yards away.
“They’re in the town,” Finnian says, his head quickly whipping inthe direction of the houses behind us. I command Sorin to burn the tree line in front of us as I throw my knife. It sinks into its skull as Finnian shoots an arrow at the second, but it keeps charging as the eruption of Sorin’s flames shakes the ground. A wall of fire rises as he engulfs the trees that have stood here for centuries along with more beasts. I throw another knife, but the creature dodges, the blade only managing to clip its ear.
Finnian nocks another arrow in his bow, but there’s not enough time.
I spring off my feet and tackle him as the netherwraith leaps for us, sending us tumbling into the snow as the arrow misses its mark. The beast doesn’t turn back to us and continues running toward the town.
“I had it!” Finnian exclaims.
“And you would’ve died in the process.”
Finnian locks his arms around my body and kicks another netherwraith in the side of the head. My lungs burn from inhaling the frigid air and smoke, but I manage to scramble off him quick enough to slice its neck open. Screams echo throughout the kingdom, and I command Sorin to continue burning whatever sections of the forest the beasts are coming from. My chest tightens as he rebels against the command, wanting to stay by my side, but I hold firm, issuing the order until he obeys. Blood stains the snow. Screams build and build until they mesh together, becoming one panicked cry for help as my ears ring.
Cayden.
