Page 12 of Wings of Frost and Fury
A spell like this is beyond anything we’ve seen so far from the sorcerers of either human kingdom. This is unutterably cruel.
“My sister,” cries Saevel. “I told her to fall back, to let us handle Guilhorn. I need to look for her.”
I know the dragon of whom he speaks. Nyreza, nearly twenty-five years, spawned in the last hatching season. She is a pink dragon, smaller and more brightly colored than most of us. Weaker. An easier target, at least in her brother’s eyes. He was trying to protect her.
“She’s gone.” My voice sounds as cold as my own frost-fire. “They’re all gone.”
“You can’t be sure,” he hisses. “Nyreza hasn’t been through mating season yet. I couldn’t sense her before, so it means nothing that I can’t sense her now. She could still be alive.”
“Go look for her if you must. I will find the princes.” And Mordessa. I must find Mordessa. I know she was flying near Kyreagan, as always.
In my soul, I already know she is gone.
Gone, gone, gone. The word pounds in my skull like a terrible drum as I bank right and search the skies for Kyreagan and Varex. I don’t see them anywhere.
I dive toward the city, scanning the streets for a golden body.
There she is, amid a ruin of bricks and beams, cast down like a piece of discarded treasure, woefully inanimate. Her shiny scales reflect the devastation of the burning buildings. Nearby lies Grimmaw, mother of the Bone-King.
Between the bodies of the fallen females, I spot the black wings and sharp horns of the two dragon princes. They are motionless, stunned. And they are grounded, which even now, in the hour of Guilhorn’s defeat, can be a dangerous thing.
Whatever is happening, my clan will need its leaders. Mordessa’s spirit has already passed into the air—I cannot help her. But I can help the Prince she loved.
“Kyreagan!” I perch on a half-collapsed rooftop nearby. “My Prince, we can’t stay here on the ground. Come. We must fly.”
Varex hears me and prods his brother with a wingtip. They mount into the sky with me, but no sooner have we achieved some altitude than they spot Vylar’s body, impaled on the tower.
Their roars of agony blur into my own pain as I cast another look down at the body of Mordessa, my cherished friend, the one who helped me through so many of my darkest moments. It is unutterably cruel that her spirit was taken at the moment of our victory, so close to the conclusion of the war.
Even in the torment of their grief, Kyreagan and Varex still seem confused, unsure what’s happening.
I don’t know exactly what I’m saying to them. I know I’m voicing words of explanation, telling them that all the females are dead, but it’s as if someone else is speaking through my jaws, while I remain trapped inside my own mind, a prisoner of my pain.
Distantly I am aware that someone has mentioned the Supreme Sorcerer of Elekstan, the Queen’s personal magician. He is the only one with sufficient power to destroy half our species. He and the Queen, and all those who inhabit the royal city, are to blame for murdering our mothers, our sisters, and our friends.
Kyreagan is giving orders in a darker tone than I’ve ever heard him use. He’s directing us to leave Guilhorn behind and head for the capital city of Elekstan. There is vengeance in his mind, though what form it will take, I do not yet know.
On the way to the Capital, we spot a lone man on horseback, riding hard. At first the rider’s head remains bent against the light rain, but when he hears the thunder of our wings, he looks up.
“I recognize that man,” Varex calls to Kyreagan. “He’s a Vohrainian spy. He’s riding as if he has important news. We should speak to him.”
Kyreagan seems impatient to reach the Capital, but he knows the value of information. He commands the rest of the dragons to remain aloft while he, Varex, and I descend to intercept the spy.
The spy’s horse balks at the sight of us, and the rider barely manages to stay in control.
“What news?” Kyreagan demands.
“Did it truly happen?” gasps the young human. “I rode as hard as I could, the second I got word. I thought maybe the spell hadn’t taken effect yet… Maybe we could do something to avoid it.”
“If byityou mean the sudden, devastating death of every female dragon, then yes,” growls Kyreagan. “It already happened.”
“Fuck.” The spy is shaking, probably afraid that the three of us will hold him responsible for not bringing us the warning faster. “I would have sent a bird with the message, but there were none available to me. I’m sorry. I—”
“Just tell us what you know,” interrupts Varex.
“Of course.” The spy clears his throat, renewing his grip on the horse’s reins. “When I met with my contact from the palace, he told me the Supreme Sorcerer had been working on something to end the war. A plan to kill all the dragons.”
“Then he succeeded,” snarls Kyreagan. “The death of the females effectively ends our race, unless we can devise someother option. The Rib Moon approaches, and mating season is nearly upon us.”
