Chapter 37 Rhea
Rhea
I’ve been shoveling horse dung for what feels like eternity.
The stench has permeated my clothes, my hair, possibly my soul.
My arms burn from the repetitive motion, but I keep at it with savage intensity.
Physical pain feels like a blessing compared to the images of Zephyros’s slaughtered offspring still branded in my brain.
Two Claws hover near the stable entrance, their crew cuts making them look like identical shorn sheep in their dark blue uniforms. They whisper behind cupped hands, eyes darting toward me.
“Something to say?” I call out, ramming my shovel into a particularly foul pile. “Or just admiring my technique?”
They scatter like startled mice, the poor idiots who will never get to be dragon riders despite all their efforts at the Academy.
My stomach growls, reminding me of the hefty lunch I consumed earlier. My appetite has returned with a vengeance, as though my body is making up for lost time. I ate enough for three riders, ignoring the stares from others in the mess hall.
I attack another pile with renewed vigor. There’s something cleansing about this work—mindless, physical, uncomplicated. Sweat drips down my spine, my muscles work in harmony, and for brief moments, I’m not thinking about Vaylen’s face in the dawn light.
The Claws return, this time with reinforcements. Four of them now, whispering and pointing.
“Get over here and help or get the fuck out!” I slam my shovel down.
They scatter again, but one brave soul calls back, “Just wondering how someone gets special treatment from the King!”
I throw down the shovel with a clatter and march toward the Claws. Wind magic crackles through my fingertips, blowing my hair back.
“You want to see special treatment?” I ask.
The brave one—a thin man with patchy stubble—tries to move faster, but he can’t outrun me.
I reach out with my power, creating Vortex Lift beneath his feet.
The air compresses and spirals, launching him three feet off the ground.
He screeches like a harpy, arms and legs flailing wildly.
His companions freeze, mouths hanging open.
“Help!” he cries.
“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted my attention.” I twirl my finger, spinning him in midair. “This special enough for you?”
The rush of power feels intoxicating after so much shoveling. I swing him perilously close to the stable wall, the vortex responding to my slightest thought.
“Please!” he wails as I flip him upside down, his face turning scarlet as blood rushes to his head.
I laugh, surprised by how good this feels. Not just using my powers but watching someone else squirm for a change. His friends back away, their expressions shifting from mockery to contrition.
“Not so chatty now, are we?”
A chorus of screams erupts from the other side of the stables, cutting through my moment of vindication. The sound isn’t playful or startled.
It’s pure terror.
Unceremoniously, I drop the Claw into a hay pile and whip around. The screams continue, desperate and getting louder. My heart thunders against my ribs as I sprint in that direction. Rounding the corner of the stables, I skid to a halt as the impossible unfolds before me.
Screechclaws. Inside Fort Ashmire.
The far end of the courtyard has erupted into chaos. Three harpies with curved black steel blades swoop through the air, their feathered bodies casting dark shadows over the cobblestones. Claws scatter in panic, their blue uniforms flash against the stone as they flee in every direction.
One harpy—larger than the others with blood-red feathers cresting her head—fixes on a gray-haired Claw stumbling across the yard. She dives with terrifying precision, talons extended.
“No!” I scream, but my voice drowns in the cacophony.
The Screechclaw sinks her talons into the man’s shoulders. He screams as she lifts him skyward, blood streaming down his uniform. Twenty feet up, she releases him with a cruel shriek of glee.
Rushing forward, I thrust my hands in his direction, summoning a strong Vortex Lift beneath the falling man. The wind coalesces, catching him mere feet from the ground. His descent slows but he’s still falling too fast.
“Hold on!” I push more power into the vortex, my muscles straining with effort.
The man lands hard but alive, rolling across the stones with a groan instead of shattering his skull.
I pivot toward the Screechclaw, rage burning through my veins. Wind gathers at my fingertips, condensing into a deadly spear of compressed air. I launch one, then form another and hurl it too. One, two, missing as the harpy banks and rolls.
“Die, you bitch!”
The third spear strikes true, piercing the junction between wing and shoulder. The harpy wails, spiraling downward in a flurry of crimson-streaked feathers.
Zephyros’s voice crashes into my mind.
—I am coming!
Through our bond, I feel his rage matching mine as he speeds toward the fort, wings breaking the clouds like thunder made flesh.
The three remaining harpies wheel in unison, their beady eyes fixing on me with laser focus. I’ve just become their primary target.
“Come on then,” I snarl, planting my feet wider. The harpy closest to me—smaller than the leader but with wicked speed—darts forward with a screech that pierces my eardrums.
I summon a violent gust, channeling it directly at her face. The air compresses into a battering ram that smashes into her, and sends her tumbling backward with a satisfying cry.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I taunt, the fire in my veins making me reckless.
The other two coordinate their attack, one sweeping low while the other dives from above.
I spin, creating a circular Wind Wall around me.
The closest harpy crashes against it, her black blade skittering across the barrier with a sound like fingernails on slate.
But I’ve split my focus, and the diving harpy adjusts her trajectory, somehow sensing the weaker point in my defense.
She punches through my Wind Wall with startling force.
Talons rake across my shoulder, tearing fabric and skin. Pain explodes through my nerve endings, electric and sharp.
“Fuck!” I stumble backward, blood streaming down my arm.
—Hold on! Almost there! Zephyros roars in my mind.
I lash out wildly, my concentration fractured by pain. A weak gust catches the diving harpy’s wing, barely slowing her as she circles back for another pass.
The first harpy I knocked back rejoins the fray. They’re surrounding me now, creating a triangle formation that limits my escape options. Blood drips from my fingertips onto the courtyard stones.
“You want me?” I growl, gathering what strength remains. “Then work for it!”
I create a vortex beneath my feet, launching myself upward just as they converge. For a heartbeat, I hover above their grabbing talons, then the small one adjusts quicker than I anticipated. Her claws lock around my ankle with crushing strength.
Pain shoots up my leg as she yanks me sideways.
I twist, trying to break her grip, but the second harpy seizes my wounded arm.
I scream as her talons yanks my arm as if to tear it off.
The third locks her claws around my other arm, and suddenly I’m suspended between them, each pulling in different directions like children fighting over a doll.
“Let go, you bitches!” I demand, kicking and thrashing as they begin to beat their wings in unison.
I move further from the ground. Five feet. Ten. The courtyard falls away beneath me, my stomach lurching as we gain altitude at terrifying speed.
“Release me!” Wind bursts from my palms, but the awkward angle makes it hard to hit true, and the tearing pain in my sockets makes it impossible to concentrate and bend the currents.
Shouts erupt below as, too late, other Skyriders make it to the end of the courtyard. I glimpse Commander Voltguard among them, her face contorted with rage.
“Hold your fire!” she bellows as several Skyriders prepare to attack. “You’ll hit Wyndward!”
“No! Take the shot!” I scream down, but my voice is lost as the harpies carry me higher, their wings beating in perfect rhythm.
Fort Ashmire shrinks beneath me, and I watch helplessly. I’m dead. I’m fucking dead! Except, the harpies aren’t attempting to kill me. They’re… taking me away?
The bitches carry me higher, their talons digging into my flesh with each powerful wing beat. Blood trickles down my arm, but the pain feels distant compared to the terror of watching Fort Ashmire become smaller.
Then I spot him, a silver streak against the sky. Zephyros barrels toward us, his massive wings cutting through the air with desperate speed.
—I see you. Do not struggle yet.
—They’re taking me somewhere. What the hell?
—They will not succeed. His voice fills my mind, rage barely contained. When I tell you, summon your strongest wind around yourself. Give it your all.
—Is that going to work?
—Trust.
The lead harpy screeches, noticing the approaching dragon. They veer sharply left, nearly ripping me apart. I bite back a scream.
—NOW! Zephyros thunders in my mind.
I inhale deeply and release everything inside me—fury, fear, desperation—into a cyclonic burst that explodes outward from my body. The wind whips violently around me, breaking the harpies’ grip.
Suddenly I’m falling, tumbling through empty air. The ground spins crazily below as wind whistles past my ears. I try to create Vortex Lift, but I’m spent, disoriented as I twist head over heels.
Above me, Zephyros releases a focused gale that slams into the harpies. Two collide midair with a sickening crunch of bone. The third tries to dive away but Zephyros’s wind catches her, crumpling her wings like paper, and she plummets to her death.
I’m still falling, my stomach in my throat, when Zephyros tucks his wings and dives beneath me. He rolls sideways, extending one massive wing. I crash into the leathery membrane, which cradles my body like a hammock.
—Thank the Goddess! I gasp, clutching his scales as he levels out and I move to his back.
—I would never let you fall.
—Take me back, Zephyros, I whisper, pressing my cheek against his cool hide, my heartbeat gradually slowing to match the steady rhythm of his wings.
Zephyros lands outside the fort gates, his massive claws barely making a sound as they touch down. I slide from his back, my legs buckling beneath me. The world tilts sideways before I catch myself against his shoulder.
“Medics!” Commander Voltguard’s voice cuts through the chaos as she strides toward us through the gates.
Two young medics rush to my side. One comes with a stretcher, while one starts examining my injuries. I hiss through clenched teeth as she peels the torn fabric away from the injury.
The one examining says, “Deep lacerations, but no major arteries hit. She’s lucky.”
“Lucky?” I bark out a laugh that sends pain shooting through my ribs. “Is that what we’re calling it when harpies breach our supposedly impenetrable fortress? I don’t feel lucky.”
Voltguard’s face darkens. “How did they get past our patrols?” She’s asking herself more than me, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Screechclaws never attack the fort directly. Never. They target villages, civilians, and lately… supply lines.”
“Well, they made an exception today.” I wince as the medic guides me to lie on the stretcher. “And they weren’t trying to kill me. They were abducting me.”
Voltguard’s sharp eyes glare at me. “Are you certain?”
“They had plenty of chances to gut me. Instead, they coordinated to carry me away.”
Commander Voltguard’s frown deepens into furrows that carve valleys across her forehead.
I know exactly what she’s thinking, because I’m thinking it too.
Another abduction attempt? This can’t be a coincidence.
Her eyes narrow to slits. The animosity radiating from her is almost tangible, crackling in the air between us like static.
I can practically read the calculation running behind those hard brown eyes.
She’s asking herself if I’m worth all this trouble.
A murdered Neutro. A year-long disappearance.
A wasted dragon. A dramatic return. A trial interrupted by royal decree.
And now Screechclaws breaching her fort just to snatch me away.
Yes, things aren’t adding up for her. Except she can’t get rid of me.
Not when, in her judgment, I’m working for the King.
Once I’m on the stretcher, the medics lift me with surprising gentleness.
Commander Voltguard steps aside. “I’ll need a full report on her injuries,” she tells them.
“Yes, Commander.”
She turns and heads back into the fort. “In the meantime, I’m going to find out exactly how those damn Screechclaws got past our patrol. Someone’s head will roll for this breach.”