Page 29 of Queen of Legends and Lies
She wails in agony. Scorched flesh and acrid smoke envelop us, purging the garlicky odor from my nose. In a matter of seconds, she’s nothing but a pile of ash on a mountain pass.
Guilt niggles at me from burning a person alive. Okay, maybe more than a niggle. But it was life or death, dragon eat dragon.
“Holyfuck. Remind me not to piss you off.” Agnar looks from me to what used to be Garlic Breath then back to me. “I had her, you know.”
“Didn’t look like it from here. She almost took your head off.” I pat him on the cheek. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
His jaw drops, and it takes him a couple of tries to form a coherent sentence. “Okay, seriously, that was probably the most badass thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen a lot of badass things.” He flashes me a shit-eating grin. “And thank you. What do you say we get out of here before round two happens?”
“That’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”
“Okay, then. The dragons can…” His eyes widen as he peers beyond me. “Shit.”
I follow his gaze.
And there’s round two.
Chapter Eleven
Like a growing storm cloud in the moonlit sky, a horde of drachen soars toward us. Red eyes gleam. Razor-sharp teeth gnash. Leathery black wings pound the air into submission, each heartbeat bringing the creatures of nightmares closer.
Appendages snake up out of their oily bodies. Except these arms aren’t black like the rest of them. They’re pale and brown and olive and bronze.
“Terro’s stones.” By the sheer horror on Agnar’s face, our understanding dawned at the same time.
An army of corrupted rides these drachen. And it’s headed straight for us.
I urge the dragons to stay out of range.
At first, resistance floods the bond. They want to fight, especially Mygist, who’s spent too many years of his life being tortured by the Aclarians.
But I cannot—will not—risk having them near these abominations. The thought of losing these dragons sours my stomach.
Agnar tenses, hand on the hilt of his sword. “I really hope Xenon isn’t here.”
“I really hope he is.” The need for vengeance roils inside me, and it becomes difficult to separate my emotions from the dragons’.
The drachen draw near, swooping down at the base of the ridge. One by one, the corrupted slide off their backs. Boots hit the ground with thuds. Free of their riders, the drachen fly away.
To scout out the area? To bring more corrupted in? And why didn’t they drop their riders off up here, closer to us? Were they afraid we’d kill them?
Not that I’m complaining.
I can’t stop to think about the winged beasts’ actions. Not when hundreds of corrupted are climbing up the mountain.
I slip an arrow from the quiver, the familiar weight settling against my palm. The bow comes next, the string taut beneath my fingers. A direct extension of my resolve.
My wings unfurl slightly—a subconscious reaction—gearing up to lift me away should the need arise.
Once this arrow flies, the real fight will start.“Ready?”
Agnar nods, grim determination on his battle-scarred face. “Always. I’ve got your back.”
The corrupted swarm over the rocky summit like a plague of locusts.
But they’re still people. Still my…no, they’re not my kinsmen. They’re the enemy in the thrall of a more powerful enemy. I can’t think of them as humans right now.
I release the first arrow.
