Page 79 of Wrath of the Dragons
He kisses me before stepping back, resting his hands on the hilt of his blade. “I’ve mastered keeping an eye on you while people are trying to kill me. It’s an enviable skill and one I take pride in.”
He puts his helmet back on, making him a nearly seven-foot-tall demon, and meets Ryder in the distance. I turn back to Venatrix, pressing my forehead to hers as she bends down, and slide my fingersover her scales. I open the bond, letting it flow through me, consume me. Golden light illuminates my soul as I become one with my dragon. I breathe when she does, and our hearts beat as one.
“We ride to war, my sweetling.”
Her crimson scales morph into black, and the other dragons follow suit, mirroring the darkness blanketing the sky. The only vibrancy comes from their eyes. They’re restless and eager to begin their quest for blood, their claws stomping on the ground every few seconds. I wonder if they can sense the savagery pounding through me, if we’re linked even in our vengeance.
“Solka,” I say while mounting her, tightening my hands on the saddle horns as she sinks her claws into the sand to get a running start. It’s the command forflyin Ravarian. One by one, every set of eyes on the beach turns to watch a sight nobody thought possible. The air crackles with my power as a melody of unlimited might is created from the wind rushing through the dragons’ wings. I lead them silently into the sky, high enough for the night to conceal us. The firestorm made flesh sitting atop her shadows of death and ash.
Following the plan we discussed, I fly away from the shore, toward the back of Thirwen’s fleet. It’s massive. Hundreds of ships bear the sigil of House Liluria, setting their force apart from the Imirath ships closer to the coastline. A black kraken with its tentacles wrapped around a ship adorns their dark red sails, not one ship suspecting that they’ll meet their end tonight.
Water laps against the hulls and torches flicker on the decks, illuminating the provisions Thirwen brought with them. Crates of food and weapons are sifted through by soldiers. If there was a way for me to raid the ships, I would, but victory is more important.
War cries shatter the silence on the beach, and I close my eyes, muttering a prayer for my dragons, my friends, and my husband despite my prayers going unanswered throughout my entire life.
I let the flashback of my past overtake me, push it all to the forefront of my mind. I think of the frigid and sweltering days in thedungeon; I think of my blood coating the floor as it gushed out of my body. I think of the hands that touched me without my consent, when I was far too young to even do so. I think of the humiliation, the shame, the look in my father’s eyes as I was beaten in front of his throne.My throne.I think of my dragons being chained and ripped away from me, and the earth-shattering pain that consumed me when Garrick tried to break my bond.
“Zayèra.”Dragonfire.
Though the dragons respond to my commands when I speak the common tongue, there’s something that feels right when I speak to them in Ravarian. Venatrix shakes her head as if awakening from a long slumber.
Venatrix sharply dives, and a battle cry forged in flight and fury rips free from my throat as the wind screams in my ears, doing nothing to drown out the echoing roars of my dragons. They unveil their vibrant scales as blazing flames swallow ten ships in one breath. The hulls crack and splinter, and soldiers in full armor jump into the water unless caught in the crossfire. The steel will drag them into the depths of the Dolent, fleeing flames only to be swallowed by the tide.
My lips part as I look around me. My dragons’ flames are different from those I’ve seen them blow previously—their fire reflects the color of their scales. Flames as red as the ripest cherry spill from Venatrix’s mouth, streaked with pink and gold. The heat that accompanies them is overwhelming, so much hotter than earthly fire. Sorin cuts a line down a ship with emerald flames as black dances within, and Basilius does the same with lavender. Calithea’s flesh-melting silver flames shimmer like stars, and Delmira’s burn like a blue sky with the sun at the center.
I recall Asena telling me dragonfire and earthly fire were two entirely different elements, but I didn’t expect them to look vastly different. Dragonfire is so beautiful that an onlooker would burn themselves trying to bottle it as a keepsake.
Screams drift up to me, twining together with the essence of theirdemise as smoke stings my eyes. Venatrix blasts another ship, spitting fire as she glides just above the water, setting more ablaze as she turns her head side to side. Sharp shrill shrieks rise in the distance, and I spot leathery, scaled bodies thrashing through the air.
Wyverns.
“Don’t show mercy,” Cayden’s voice echoes in my mind. It’s them or us, so I harden my heart and push forward.
“Venatrix, Sorin, Calithea,” I command. “Vetàs tesis wyverns!”Attack the wyverns.
Venatrix tips her wings up, an answering roar echoing through the other two as Basilius and Delmira stay behind to continue burning the fleet. Imirath will spend ages removing the graveyard of shattered and splintered ships. No one will be able to sail into this port once we’re done with them.
We sharply upturn, and I jolt in the saddle as Venatrix’s jaw unhinges and latches around a wyvern’s neck. She takes the beast by surprise as her fangs slice through the flesh like warm butter, splattering the pair of us in blood. The rider’s eyes are entirely white as she tries to keep hold of the mental connection to the wyvern, but they clear once the beast goes limp in Venatrix’s hold. Her face ripples with pure terror as Venatrix unlatches her teeth and I fire my crossbow, hitting the rider straight through the chest before Venatrix lets the pair of them fall to the sea.
I hook the crossbow onto the saddle again, looking toward the sandy shore soaked with blood and littered with bodies. Sorin kills two wyverns flying close to the ground, flaying several enemy soldiers in the blast. Calithea isn’t far behind, shooting up beneath a wyvern approaching me and decapitating it.
The battle continues as entrails and flames descend, and the clattering of swords rises.
I bare my teeth, continuing to shoot commands down the bond and letting all of Imirath and its allies see what happens when you wrong someone more powerful than you.
Cayden
I leave a trail of corpses in my wake, dodging the entrails Elowen drops from the sky and arrows aimed at me. Blood slides down my armor and though I’ve never had a problem instilling fear in the enemy, the dragon helm certainly helps. All it does is solidify the image Ravaryn has of me: not entirely human, but some kind of monster ruled by a demon lurking within.
Someone charges me, and I spin away from their strike, impaling the back of his skull with one of my swords. Blood pours from their opened mouth as I yank my blade back through it, immortalizing his final battle cry. I’m an artist, but not in the way Ryder spends hours blending paints for the perfect shade. My blade is my brush and the only color I see is red.
I need more.
I crave more.
A flash of silver catches the corner of my eye, and I jam one of my swords in the sand, pulling a knife from the sheath on my thigh and spearing the enemy rushing toward Ryder through the side of his neck. He didn’t become my second in command because he’s my best friend. He earned his position, but it’s instinct to look out for him. Sometimes when I look at him, I see the lanky boy begging me to help his sister who didn’t know how to hold a sword. He’s not my brother through any blood we share, but through blood we’ve spilled.
“I had that!” he calls out, slicing through the stomach of the soldier he was fighting.
