Chapter 45
She pulls me back the way we came, weaving through the stacks as the rumbling grows louder. My shoes struggle to gain purchase on the slick stone, but I keep my fingers woven through hers—clinging to her like a lifeline.
A deep-bellied roar vibrates the air, and a chill skates down my spine.
“Kressa, the celebration.”
She doesn’t turn, but the same sense of dread twines through the bond. “I know.”
The main foyer of the library opens overhead, and the chandeliers swing on their tethers, the balls of fire sputtering. A blast of air knocks over carts piled with books, and wyverns shoot across the opening—their wings beating.
My stomach plummets, and I let go of Kressa’s hand as I sprint toward the doorway. She follows on my heels, and as we clear the doorway, the cavern opens around us.
“Briar!” Kressa screams.
She lunges forward and slams into me, throwing us down the steps. A talon grazes the top of my shoulder, and a blast of fire clouds my vision as we tumble onto the ground.
I clutch my chest, wheezing out a breath as the wyvern narrowly misses us. My gaze turns toward the sky, and my skin goes cold.
Overhead, an entire hoard swarms the cavern—the fiery light at the ceiling casting a glow through the thin skin of their wings.
Kressa pushes to her feet and thrusts out a hand, helping me up. “We have to stop them.”
Music from the celebration continues, vibrating the air—loud enough to drown out the roars. The wyvern careen overhead, while others throw themselves at the walls and pathways—clinging to the shards of stone that protrude from the interior.
One of them sniffs the air, and there’s a pause amongst all of them—as if they’re connected by a singular strand. I narrow my eyes, and my breath hitches.
It’s the crimson one.
It lets out a bellowing roar, and I throw my hands over my ears as the noise rattles my skull and dulls my senses. Kressa crouches beside me, grimacing.
The roar halts, and the air shifts as the dozens of wyverns leap from their perches—following the crimson one deeper into the cavern.
Kressa’s eyes shoot wide. “They found them.”
She takes off, her feet sliding over the craggy stone as she sprints up the incline. I follow after her, kicking up rocks. Kressa throws out a hand, aimed toward one of the wyvern at the back of the hoard.
Nothing happens.
She curses under her breath. “Without the emerald, I’m getting weaker.”
My stomach clenches, and I push myself forward, pumping my arms as I catch up to her. Keeping my strides even, I focus on the creatures growing smaller in the distance, then settle my attention on a sprawling stalactite dangling above them.
With a grunt, I throw a blast of fire toward it. It slams into the protrusion, throwing a handful of stones free—but not enough to knock it loose.
“We aren’t going to make it,” I breathe, throwing another blast.
“We don’t have a choice.”
A snap comes from overhead, and I glance up as the stalactite breaks free and spears down. It pierces through the body of a wyvern, and the creature screeches as it plummets—disappearing into the darkness below. Moments later, a crash echoes through the cavern.
But the other wyvern don’t slow.
Kressa grabs my wrist and jerks me sideways into a dimly lit cave, barely big enough for us to run through one by one.
“Short cut,” she says, her voice coming out in pants. “Stay close.”
The lights grow dimmer, and the distance between them lengthens as we run deeper into the mountain. My muscles burn, and my lungs ache—fire swelling beneath my sternum.
We bank right, and the floor trembles. But it’s not the same as the wyvern shooting through the cavern. No, this is the rumble of music and dancing. The kind that is loud enough for no one to hear an oncoming attack.
She leads us around a curve, and an opening flares to life. Bodies pass by, laughing and dancing and pressing clear glasses of liquor to their mouths. A wave of terror washes over the bond.
“They have no idea,” Kressa breathes.
We burst into the courtyard.
Balls of multicolored firelight are strung overhead, casting a rainbow of colors onto the undulating crowd. A chorus of laughter floats through the air, and I scan the roof of the cavern, but only shadows cling overhead.
My heard thrashes in my chest. “What are we going to do?”
Kressa scans the bodies then wraps her hand around my arm and drags me forward. “We’re going to save them.”
People stare as we dart through the crowd—body paint covering their cheekbones and the curves of their shoulders. Kressa elbows people out of the way, shouting as loud as she can over the music. I stumble over my own feet, but she holds me upright as we come to the center of the courtyard.
Her chest heaves, but she cups her hands over her mouth and screams, “Nicole!”
A handful of people stop what they’re doing and turn, raising a brow. Across the opening, Nicole turns, bright orange paint dripping down her jaw. Her gaze shifts between us, and her brow furrows as she pushes through the crowd.
“What are you two doing here?”
Kressa opens her mouth, but a distant roar rumbles through the air. The music stumbles to a halt, and the bodies packed within the tight courtyard turn their faces to the abyss overhead.
“No.” The blood drains from Nicole’s face. “We have to evacuate the courtyard.” Her words are rushed, frantic, and the sound of wings beating the air rumble through the space. She blasts a stream of fire into the air, and faces turn toward us as she yells, “Into the tunnels!”
Shouts echo across the courtyard, and people trip over each other as they scramble toward the nearest entrance. My knees threaten to buckle as bodies fall under the masses. Screams come from the mouths of the tunnels as people are shoved—crushed against the stone walls.
Another roar rattles the stone walls, closer this time.
Kressa’s face fills my vision. “We have a minute, at most, until the wyvern crest over the ridge and unleash fire on these people. I need your help holding them back.”
My breaths come in shallow sips, but I nod. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
Nicole disappears, running toward the main archway leading to a wide tunnel. Men and women and children sprint, scrambling around, trying to find safety.
“But your power,” I whisper as Kressa sidles up beside me.
“I’ll borrow some of yours.”
We share a glance, and something passes between us. A glimpse of a life with her—one that isn’t plagued by war and suffering. One with laughter. Love.
She lowers her hand and wraps her fingers in mine. Maybe in the next life.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, staving off the sting behind my eyes. A shadow spears through the night, and I flex my palms as another follows, circling far overhead.
“They’re here,” I breathe.
Kressa glances over her shoulder, where hundreds of people continue to flee—not even half of them into the tunnels. Others bottleneck at the smaller tunnels, and lifeless bodies litter the ground, their features unreadable after being trampled.
A wyvern swoops into the light and opens its maw, releasing a wave of fire over the courtyard. People fall to the floor, screaming and thrashing as their clothes catch fire—the skin peeling away from their bones.
I steady my mind as I lift my hand. Flames weave through my veins, swirling with my blood, and a fraction of it veers down the bond I share with Kressa.
Holding my breath, I wait as the wyvern soars over the courtyard and lands on the far ridge, digging its taloned wings into a nook in the rock face. It rears back its head and releases a roar that rattles my eardrums.
“What are you waiting for?” Kressa shouts, her face turned upward as she unfurls her fists.
The shadows overhead grow larger—closer, and they let out a chorus of roars. A war cry.
My heart thrashes, and the power builds under my skin, threatening to burst free. But I hold tight as the creature leaps from the ridge, raining debris onto the people below, and sweeps back across the courtyard.
“Briar, now!”
It opens its maw, and a ball of fire swirls deep within its throat. A low rumble comes from it, and the scales along its spine shift, rippling under the light. I wait a second. Then another.
Just as it crests over me, I blast a stream of fire through both its wings. It screeches, then slams to the ground and tumbles to the opposite side of the courtyard—sending people scrambling out of its path. It twitches against the rock as flames eat at the sinewy flesh of its wings.
Its chest stills.
The hoard roars, and my eyes widen. I stumble back as the shadows overhead loop over each other, then dart directly toward me. I scan the space, where more bodies lie piled onto each other—their lungs either crushed by the weight of the crowd or bones snapped from footfall.
Hundreds still fill the space, climbing over each other to get out.
“Kressa,” I breathe.
“No,” she grits out, lifting her hands. “Don’t you dare say we don’t stand a chance.”
The air thins in my lungs, and I scan the ridge line, searching for another path of evacuation. Or another possible attack point against the wyvern.
There are none.
Children scream, clutched between their mother’s and father’s arms, and a handful of people climb up the craggy rock, aimed to fight. I steady myself as the beating of the wyverns’ wings grows louder—shifting the hair around my shoulders.
A handful of the tunnels clear as people file inside, into safety.
But the majority are still crammed in the courtyard—nowhere to run.
The beasts crest over the ridge, and the people along the walls blast streams of fire toward them. But the wyvern bank sideways, dodging the attacks as the fire slams into the cavern wall.
I let power flow into my fingertips and brace myself as Kressa does the same. There’s no use firing at them from a distance. Damage can only be done close range.
A chill sweeps down my spine as row after row of oncoming wyvern appear—close enough to make out the whites of their slitted eyes.
“On my count!” I yell, loud enough for my voice to carry to the others.