59. Strategic retreats
59
STRATEGIC RETREATS
[Anahrod.]
[Anahrod!] Peralon’s voice was all but a shout, pulling her from Ivarion’s mind.
She opened her eyes. Anahrod was still sitting on folded blanket on a boulder, still staring at a still-sleeping Ivarion.
Meanwhile, Peralon sounded panicked.
[What’s wrong?]
[We must’ve overlooked something. The dragons are attacking Viridhaven.]
Anahrod’s heartbeat jumped. She thought he said it was impossible…
Obviously not.
Anahrod glanced back at Ivarion. She couldn’t see any sign of change, any sign that he might wake this side of the next century. Anahrod needed more time. And time wasn’t something she had in any supply, large or small.
[Go to them,] she told Peralon. [I’ll stay here and wake up Ivarion, then join you.]
He gave Ivarion a hopeless look. [Can you? Wake him?]
[Just go.]
Peralon wanted to argue. He would be abandoning her, leaving Anahrod alone with nothing but her own abilities, the dragonstone, and a dragon who might never wake again. But Ris was down there. Gwydinion was down there. What choice did they have?
If Peralon had to choose between letting Neveranimas have the entire world and protecting his rider, Anahrod knew which way he’d pick. He’d send Neveranimas some gems from his personal hoard as a good-luck gift, if he had to.
Peralon needed Anahrod’s assurance that he wasn’t abandoning her.
She gave it to him. [I’ll be fine. I should have Ivarion up in just a few minutes. Go. We’ll catch up later.]
[Thank you.] Peralon took to the skies and turned into a gold streak fading into the distance.
A sharp cracking sound echoed in the sky.
Anahrod turned back to Ivarion. Or she started to. Because when she did, something shimmered from off to the side. Something violet and silver.
Seventeen years of survival instincts kicked in. Anahrod rolled to the side just as a dragon claw crashed into the ground where she’d stood. The blow smashed the boulder upon which she’d been sitting to pieces.
[Honestly,] Neveranimas said, [I thought he’d never leave.]