Page 85 of Wings of Frost and Fury
“No more!” I snarl at her. “You’ll kill yourself.”
She looks up at me, terror and grief flooding her eyes. I can feel more wolves climbing up my back, gnawing at my body and my wings. Three of them leap up and latch onto my throat, even as Thelise and I stare at each other.
“I want you to know that I love you,” she calls out.
“I will not believe you unless you prove it,” I growl.
“How the fuck do I do that?”
“If you love me, you will preserve your own life.”
She sobs out a laugh and says something in a strangled voice—most likely a curse or an affectionate insult.
One of the large, flat scales protecting my throat starts to peel away, pulled by wolfish jaws. I groan at the pain and turn away from Thelise. Whipping my head from side to side to dislodge the attackers, I swivel my neck around and blow frost-fire across my own back, knocking some of the wolves off and chilling others.
All around the bonfire, the women are fighting. Slowly but surely, they are killing off the wolves, one by one. If I can continue keeping most of the pack occupied, we might be able to survive this.
But I’m not sure how much longer I can last.
I rise on my back legs and use my foreclaws to tear another wolf off my throat. My wings beat heavily, dislodging another wolf or two, but more clamber up to take their places.
My body collapses against the ground. I’m no longer on my feet, no longer able to maintain my advantage over the wolves.
My strength is ebbing quickly. I haven’t eaten enough in days, and my limbs are beginning to tremble from exertion and weariness. The carcasses of the two starved wolves I swallowed did very little to sustain me.
Giving in and letting myself be devoured would be easier than this struggle against the tide of my enemies. But I hear Mordessa’s voice in my head, telling me that every day is worth fighting for. And I know that Thelise will never forgive me if I yield. She possesses an indomitable spirit, a fire that not even the Mordvorren could quench. She nearly died beneath its oppressive influence, but she fought so hard against it. A lesser woman would have succumbed much more quickly.
Somehow I heave my bulk up again, getting my feet under me. Somehow I manage to stretch out my wings and beat them, shaking loose the teeth of hungry wolves. Somehow, even though my energy is low, I summon another blast of frost-fire—probably the last one I’ll be capable of tonight. Like Thelise’s magic, my energy is not infinite. My frost-fire can run low, and must recharge.
One final rush of magic. One final surge of my great body against the wolves. One more wild fight, slashing at them with my claws, chomping through their bony bodies and tough hides with my teeth, smacking them into pulp with my tail.
A howl sounds from somewhere in the night. I don’t know if it’s a warning, or perhaps a call for the pack to retreat and find easier prey, but the remaining wolves scatter into the forest at once. There are only two or three dozen of them left. The rest are corpses littered across the ground—scores of lean, furry bodies.The women limp from one wolf to the next, making sure the creatures are dead.
I let myself sink to the ground, my neck stretched at full length along the earth. Pain blooms in multiple places all over my body, and the edge of my right wing is ragged. I will heal, but it will take time.
Thelise comes to me and sits down by my head, her hand on my snout. “You saved everyone, pet. I hope you know that. Without you, we would have been slaughtered.”
I rumble at her touch and her words, but I’m too weary to respond.
She strokes the brow ridge over my right eye. “I did tests on a few of the men and some of the meat. This is indeed a magical poison. Rahzien had someone create it for him and infected all the animals of the Middenwold Isles with it. The poison is designed to activate upon contact with dragon saliva and kill the victim within hours.”
My heart sickens.
They’re going to die. All of them, every male dragon I know and love.
Only Kyreagan, Varex, and I will be left, along with the eggs that our clan managed to produce this season. How will we go on with so few survivors?
Closing my eyes, I moan my heartbreak.
“No, darling! Don’t make that dreadfully sad sound, my god,” exclaims Thelise. “You’re all going to survive this, because you’re not exactlydragonsanymore. You’re human, too. Shifting to human form eases the symptoms of the poison, but even the dragons who didn’t shift will survive it, though they might have a longer road to recovery.”
She lowers her voice, and I swivel my ear to catch her soft words.
“Sweetheart, by letting me perform my spell, by not giving me away to Kyreagan when you figured out what I planned todo, you saved your people. Because of my magic and your trust in me, your clan will get through this. Dragons will continue to exist.”
Continued existence is a slow and painful process.
Torn and exhausted as I am, I’m the only dragon strong enough to hunt, to fight, or to carry people back up to the caves where they will be safe. I transport them slowly, conserving my strength, and in the course of the following days, I take Thelise to the caves to visit everyone, to deliver food, and to offer help where we can.
