Page 27 of Queen of Legends and Lies
Mygist simply wants to kill as many Aclarians as possible. Revenge for his long captivity.
“Easy, boys.” I pull on the mental reins we share, projecting my emotions so the dragons are clear on my meaning. “Let’s not start a war if we don’t have to. I just to take a peek at what those rumors are all about.”
Their grumpy but compliant agreement rumbles through my skull.
Ahead, the Pass of Chains comes into view. Agnar informs me that the high mountain pass borders the lands of Tír Ríoga, a vast kingdom rich in various gemstones and natural resources. His knowledge of geography never fails to impress me.
We start our descent, slowing as we near a rocky outcropping.
“Perfect spot for a little spy mission.” Agnar offers me a wry grin as he leaps from Kaida’s back, wings flaring wide to cushion his fall.
I pat Mygist’s neck before following my friend down. My boots hit solid ground with little snaps and crackles as they crush the dry grass underfoot.
From here, we could finish walking up to the pass to the steep cliff that leads down to the fertile, life-filled basin below.
But that’s not what we’re here for.
The towns are protected. The local military is stationed there and focused entirely on what lies in front of them, trusting the high cliffs at their backs to protect the rear.
Which is exactly why we think the real danger is coming from the unguarded, desolate landscape behind us.
One thing I can’t quite figure out is why Xenon would bypass Tirene and send corrupted troops here. He wants me—needs me—to fully resurrect Narc. Maybe the Aclarian king is simplybiding his time as he grows his armies. Tirene may be an island, but our people are fierce. To defeat them, Xenon’s strength will have to lie in numbers.
That’s my two silver coins anyway.
If Xenon’s plotting an attack, his troops will do it as quietly as possible. People can’t be easily forced to drink eyril—an important part of the corruption process—during a battle. So, while the drachen are present, the eyril still has to be introduced somehow.
Which means an ambush.
Several lakes sit at the base of those cliffs. All someone has to do is hurl open barrels of eyril into the water. Then, once the drachen attack, everyone who ingests that water will become corrupted.
No real fighting.
No chance of retreat.
They’d be compromised before they even knew about the assault. And then all those people would join Xenon’s corrupted forces.
I scan the dark terrain, my vision sharper with my wings out. “Think anyone spotted us?”
One of the many perks of being Tirenese—other than the higher tolerance to cold and the ability to fly—is enhanced vision when our wings are unfurled.
From my bag, I pull out a waterskin. I feel as if I haven’t gotten enough to drink since I woke up that first night without Sterling. My mouth is all cottony. In a sure sign of dehydration, I haven’t been sweating either.
“I highly doubt it.” Agnar leans against a boulder. “Dark dragons, dark uniforms, dark night,” he pats the stone he’s resting on, “dark landscape. And we’ve been careful. I think we’d have to set off fireworks for someone to notice us out here.”
“All right.” I settle in beside him, the warmth from his broad-shouldered frame a welcome contrast to the chilling anxiety churning in my gut. “Let’s see if our hunch was right and they do try sneaking in through the back door.”
Agnar nods. “Can you send Kaida and Mygist up so they don’t give away our location?”
I focus on my connection with the dragons, conveying that I want them to stay in the sky and watch for anyone approaching.
Salivating at the thought of getting his revenge on the Aclaris troops, Mygist takes to the sky again, an amused Kaida following him.
We’re already close to the pass, so all we really need to do is stay still and be vigilant. If the invasion happens the way we suspect, they’ll have to come right by us. Hopefully, we’ll be able to see them before they see us.
The stars are out in force tonight, like a million tiny flames licking the edges of the dark sky. I lean back against the same boulder Agnar’s claimed, its jagged surface pressing through my summer jacket, and let my gaze drift upward.
It’s easier than staring into the abyss below. Easier than facing what’s ahead.
