Page 31 of Queen of Legends and Lies
The earth responds, and a landslide roars to life, burying the corrupted who dared to touch me and ten more behind him.
“Bonus points.” I give a shaky laugh and tuck my wounded wing tight to my back. Putting them away would take away my enhanced vision. Too risky.
The corrupted keep coming, clambering over the broken and the burning with a mindless hunger.
We’re forced to retreat, scrambling higher and backward over the uneven rocks.
“This has been a shit day,” Agnar observes with a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
I pant out a laugh while trying to find my footing. “Understatement of the century.”
“Time to get to the dragons.” Agnar retreats one more step and hurls another head-sized rock.
“I can’t. My wings…they’re busted.”
“Really not a fan of these guys,” he mutters, and with a flick of his wrists, more boulders rain down.
Yet the corrupted continue to pursue us like a relentless tide.
“There are too many.” I block his path. “Listen, you have to go. You and Kaida head to Emraldae Keep. Warn the Tír Ríogian king and then fly to Tirene. The council needs to know what happened here tonight. How the armies of corrupted fight.”
“Are you kidding me?” He steps forward, his tone lethal. “I’ll toss you up to Mygist. You’re the soon-to-be queen. They need you. I’m just a soldier. One of many.”
“No. You’re Agnar. The only one I have. And I’m not about to lose you too.”
We lock eyes, an entire conversation held in that gaze. Trust, loyalty, friendship, duty, all of it hangs between us, unspoken but understood.
I nod, and we turn as one, preparing ourselves for the next assault, knowing it might be our last stand on this mountain.
The dragons’ frustration ripples through me. They circle above, eager for us to escape. Their anxiety and irritation press into my mind like physical weights.
“Stubborn humans”is all I can imagine them saying, their ancient minds clearly vexed by our refusal to leave one another behind.
But it’s not that simple. My wings are useless, feathers askew, pain lancing through them with every movement.
The dragons can’t come close enough.
We inch backward.
Agnar continues to hurl boulders.
I cover him with a steady stream of fire.
The path behind us swarms with the corrupted, a writhing river of madness and decay. Ahead, the terrain offers no kindness, only the steep face of a cliff that promises a fall to certain death.
The trail running along the cliff’s edge narrows, allowing for single-file passage at best. It’s a death trap, designed to be defensible, but has now just become another obstacle in our desperate retreat.
And the corrupted don’t understand self-preservation. They’ll pursue us until they slip off the edge like broken dolls, driven by whatever darkness has taken hold within them.
Reaching back, I find my quiver, only to remember it’s empty.
Sentry cutouts dot the cliffside like sinister eyes. They should be manned by Tír Ríoga’s vigilant and ready soldiers. Instead, the corrupted spill from them, tumbling down without care or comprehension, their lives forfeit to a cause they no longer understand.
The ground beneath our feet vibrates with the impending onslaught.
“Ziva’s flames.” I regret everything. Coming here. Not waiting for more intel. Not bringing an army or even a few guards. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve gotten us into this. You never should’ve come.”
“I will always fight by your side, Lark. By Sterling’s. For as long or as little as we live. It’s my honor.”
