Page 81 of Wrath of the Dragons
Venatrix and Basilius are forced to abandon their efforts. Their bodies are too large to keep fighting within the small space. Heat slams into me as a large boom resounds through the air. Venatrix tips up, blocking the brunt of the billowing flames that weren’t conjured by any of my dragons. Severed limbs and scalded bodies fly away from the remaining gap. The dome stretches as far back into Imirath as I can see, and I search our side for any sign of Cayden.
If he’s stuck in Imirath, there’s not a thing I won’t do to break through this barrier.
With the surviving soldiers thinning, and corpses lining the beach like grains of sand—close together and impossible to differentiate—I see Cayden. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, or a monster ascending from an ocean made of blood, Cayden stands from where he covered Ryder’s body with his. His eyes blaze with a hatred six hundred men couldn’t possess if they tried. He tosses his helmet aside, baring his teeth, covered in blood, and raises two swords against the enemies surrounding him.
Oh, gods.
Blood pours from the corner of his mouth, and as I fly down to him, I note the pieces of glowing metal jutting out of his armor. His exertion will only make it worse, but he thankfully finishes off the wounded soldiers quickly. Ryder pushes up from the ground unscathed but a little unsteady on his feet. I unfasten my saddle straps before Venatrix lands and slide down her wing, free-falling my wayto the beach when she’s close enough and running over to the pair of them.
Cayden spits out blood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before resting it on my cheek. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” Shards from whatever the bomb was made of continue to glow in a sickly green color, jutting out of the right side of his chest and arm in harsh pieces. “Cayden—”
It was forged from magic.
I don’t know how to heal magic-induced wounds.
My panic begins surging.
“Don’t worry about me,” Cayden insists, but Ryder cuts him off while removing his helmet.
“The bomb was poisonous. There is a mage in Thirwen who creates them, and he must be here. His name is Nykeem. His signature is the green metal.”
“What kind of poison?” I demand. “Nyrinn is at the encampment with the other healers—”
“He won’t survive that long,” Ryder interjects. “He makes the poison himself and experiments in dark magic.”
“Stop being so dramatic,” Cayden drawls. “It’s a fucking scratch.”
“There are several pieces of metal jutting out of you,” Ryder growls.
Cayden shrugs, looking toward Ryder with glassy eyes. “Many scratches.”
My stomach roils and breathing quickens. I twist my head in all directions searching for the one person who can help me. “Asena!” My voice is shrill, and my emotions tighten my throat. I do my best to shove them down, but it’s nearly impossible. “Asena!”
She possesses fire magic, as do many in Galakin, and the mages there are known to channel their magic into healing abilities.
She must be able to help.
Someone must do something.
Cayden rests his other hand on my face, bringing my gaze back to his as Asena appears in leathers streaked with blood and a red undershirt as an homage to her goddess. “I’m here, my queen.”
“You have fire magic, does that also mean you have healing magic?”
“I’m fine, love. I just have to take out the pieces and take a counteractive tonic.”
“You fool,” Ryder cries. “You fucking fool!”
“Thank you would also suffice.”
“I can’t heal a poison I can’t identify,” she says, her face grave as she looks Cayden over.
“Who can?”
“The goddess,” she says, and I shake my head, refusing to believe it. Her brows crease, and she rolls her lips together as she looks at the markings on our hands. “There are limits to mortal magic, but perhaps there is another way.”
She begins chanting in Ravarian as she opens a portal. Cayden’s legs give out, bringing him to his knees, and I fall with him. Venatrix takes a protective stance over us, clawing the dead bodies away to clear a space amid the gore. Ryder forces Cayden onto his back, and I manage to find a clean part on my clothes to wipe my hands.
