Page 128 of Dreams and Dragon Wings
My methods are brutish. Barbaric.
And they expend entirely too much energy.
I am weak from my time spent asleep. Thirst burns in my throat. Hunger twists my stomach. Too late, I notice the delicate threads of Mind and Spirit radiating outward from my uncle, weaving around his form. More of his tricks. He is distracting me by heightening my already numerous discomforts.
Threads of Air soon follow.
Before I even have a chance to brace myself, a rush of wind rips me from my uncle’s body, leaving me snapping at empty air. The tang of his filthy blood fills my mouth. But I can no longer see him. I can no longer smell him.
He is invisible to my senses.
“You fight like your father,”Malice sneers, his voice ghosting along the outer reaches of my consciousness.“All brawn and no brain.”
I swing my head from side to side, desperately searching the darkness for any hint of where he has gone.
“Coward!” I roar to the heavens. “Come and fight—”
The rest of my words catch in my throat as something slams into me from above. Something heavy. Strong.
The bell tolls again.
Claws dig deep into my back as I am driven like a falling stone toward the earth, tumbling too fast to stop. Beneath me, goblins scatter, screeching as they try to flee. Above me, Malice’s claws rend flesh. They draw blood.
I scream in pain and fresh fury as I land hard against the ground, schooled so easily by my uncle. As if I am little more than a hatchling.
Worry burns across my bond with my queen. I taste her fear for me, though she tries to mask it.
I cannot fail her now.
The Corona flares hot on my brow, lending me the strength I need to gather Air beneath my wings and launch us back into thesky. I roll midair and shake my uncle off of me like a dog shaking off water.
But still I cannot see him.
I cannot smell him.
I fly all the faster, leading him away from the castle, from Aurelia, from the goblins who stand to be harmed by our warring. The lands of the Flora Vale unfurl beneath me, a ripple of lush green dotted with rolling hills and deep forests.
It is toward the former I veer. Plenty of room to maneuver there.
“I see you’ve given up your desire for the throne,” I call out, trying to judge if he is still near me. If he can still hear me. “If you kill me now, the Corona will never accept you.”
“This is true,”his voice snarls on the fringes of my thoughts.“But sometimes, sacrifices must be made.”
I cast out filament-thin threads of Spirit, hunting for any hint of his life force. His heart.There. Air and Water answer my call, lashing outward in a blast of frost. I aim for his eyes, seeking to wound. To blind.
His distressed cry is like music to my ears.
His weave of invisibility falls away in the next moment, exposing his position where he lingers above me and to my left.
I do not hesitate. I call on threads of Spirit, Air, Water, and Earth, binding my uncle in so many glittering cords that there is almost no hint of black scales left beneath them. He thrashes against them, fighting me with every ounce of his strength.
My weave weakens. It falters.
And my resolve falters with it.
“Do you truly think you can defeat me, boy?” Malice taunts, calling weaves of his own to life. Air whistles between us in a wall of wind, pushing me backward. My wings beat hard against the gusts, struggling to draw close once more. “The Corona is wastedon you!” He chuffs a draconic laugh. “Even with it, you areweak. Pathetic.”
Bitterness courses through me.
