Chapter 41
Sebastian
The horses are tiring beneath us.
My steed’s strides are shortening, the rhythm faltering where it was once driving. Sweat froths along its neck and flanks despite the cold.
Isla’s horse is faring no better.
We have been riding hard since her mother gave the order to release us. The deadlands stretch endlessly ahead. Behind us, the army has not relented.
“Sebastian!” Her voice is thin and strained. “We can’t keep going like this.”
She’s right. These horses were bred for war, not endurance.
I glance over my shoulder. The torches of the pursuing army bob and weave in the darkness, closer than they were a few moments ago. They are slowly gaining.
We are running out of time.
My head snaps up as a black shape, flecked with streaks of gold, drops through the darkness. It is enormous. Its wingspan blots out the gray as it descends. The downdraft from its wings sends a wall of air rushing over us.
Isla screams.
She hauls on the reins, pulling her horse to a stop.
The animal locks its front legs and skids through the mud.
Then it rears, its great body lifting skyward, forelegs slashing at the air.
Thank the goddess, Isla does the right thing by leaning forward, her hands closing on the saddle horn.
Her body presses flat against the horse’s neck.
When it comes down, her face is white with terror.
I wheel my own horse around, dragging the reins hard to the left.
It tosses its head and tries to bolt sideways, every instinct screaming at it to flee from the winged predator dropping from the sky.
I hold firm, forcing it to turn, forcing it to face the direction we came from so I can see both Isla and the beast that just appeared.
The dragon lands ahead of us.
It touches down. Its head is broad and angular; the jaws of the beast are enormous. Its golden eyes burn with intelligence.
This is a true dragon. A creature bonded to the beastfae rider on its back, seated between two great ridges of spine.
The rider swings one leg over and stands in the saddle, looking down at us, pushing his hood from his head. Even in the semi-dark, I can make out the broad shoulders. The thick, dark, cropped hair. The unmistakable build of a fighter.
I’m sure I know who it is. Relief hits me hard for a moment.
“It’s Orion,” I call to Isla. “The Beastfae King. I think he’s here to save us.”
“You think?” she yells. “Or you know?” She holds onto her horse, the beast wanting to bolt just as much as mine does.
“He’s here to help.” I hope to the goddess I am right.
She nods, her horse dancing beneath her, tossing its head and snorting, its eyes rolled white.
I look back over my shoulder.
The army is no longer a distant smear of torchlight. Individual riders are visible now. The formation is wide, spreading across the flat ground to cut off any attempt to change direction. They are close.
“We need to go,” I tell her. “Make for the dragon.”
She nods once.
I drive my heels into my horse’s sides. The animal lurches forward with a snort of protest, every muscle in its body telling it to run the other way.
Its ears are pinned flat to its skull, and its nostrils are wide, pulling in the scent of the dragon and wanting no part of it.
But it is a warhorse. Bred and trained for the madness of battle, for fire, screaming, and the stink of blood and death.
That training holds. It goes forward even though every fiber of its being is telling it not to.
Isla is right next to me. Her animal fights her at every stride, jerking its head against the bit, trying to turn, trying to bolt.
She corrects it again and again, her legs tight, her hands firm on the reins, forcing the beast’s nose toward the dragon.
She speaks to it in a low, steady voice that I cannot make out above the wind, but the tone is calm and sure.
The horses manage another fifty paces before the terror wins.
My horse plants its hooves and refuses to go further. Isla’s horse does the same, sidestepping in tight, panicked circles, its breath coming in high-pitched whines.
“Dismount!” I shout.
My boots hit the ground, and I’m already reaching for Isla.
She drops from her own horse a heartbeat later.
The moment our weight leaves their backs, both animals spin and bolt.
Their hooves churn the mud as they flee back the way we came, manes streaming, tails high, running with the kind of desperate abandon that only true terror produces. They disappear within moments.
I grab Isla’s hand, and we sprint for the dragon.
Orion is already on the ground. He must have jumped from the beast’s back when we dismounted. He stands next to the dragon’s lowered shoulder, one hand on its scales.
“Up you go!” he shouts, his voice booming across the open ground. “Now! There’s no time!”
Isla drops my hand. She runs ahead and grabs the ridge of the dragon’s spine, and hauls herself up and over. She finds footholds, clambering her way up until she is seated between two of the bony protrusions along its back.
Despite the situation we are in, I’m reminded of how she struggled to mount that sorrel not all that long ago.
Things have changed.
I pull myself up as well, sitting behind Isla. I wrap an arm around her waist. She is rigid against me, her eyes on the approaching army.
Orion climbs with the ease of a man who has done this a thousand times. Two quick movements and he is in the front position, his legs locked into place, his hands gripping a ridge of bone.
The army is right on top of us. I can even see the faces of the riders in the lead and their shadows writhing around their fists.
“Delphine!” Orion calls. “To the sky!”
The dragon responds before the words have fully left his mouth.
The lurch is violent. My stomach drops as the beast launches upward with a single, devastating beat of its wings. The force of it presses me down against the dragon’s spine. Isla’s body slams back against my chest, and I tighten my arm around her, holding us both in place.
Arrows fly, the hiss of them cutting the air. One passes so close that I feel the wind of it against my cheek. Another strikes the dragon’s neck and bounces off the armored scales with a sharp crack, spinning away into the dark.
None finds its mark.
The dragon beats its wings again and again, each stroke carrying us higher. The ground falls away beneath us.
Within heartbeats, we are above it all.
The wind is brutal up here. It tears at my hair and clothing, pulling at my limbs, trying to rip me from the dragon’s back. I lock my arm tighter around Isla, pulling her closer. She grabs my forearm with both hands and holds on.
We fly.
The deadlands roll beneath us.
The dragon banks slightly to the north, and the wind shifts, coming at us from the side. I press my face against Isla’s shoulder to shield my eyes from the worst of it.
We climb higher still. The air thins and the cold deepens until my breath comes in sharp, short pulls that frost the moment it leaves my mouth. Isla is shivering against me. I wrap both arms around her and hold her close, sharing what little warmth we have between us.
Then we break through the cloud cover.
And there are stars.
Millions of them. It is a sky so vast and bright that it steals the breath from my lungs.
Isla gasps.
The cloud bank stretches below us in every direction, a rolling gray sea lit silver by the starlight. It is beautiful. Hauntingly, achingly beautiful.
Isla tilts her head back. The starlight catches her face. Her lips are parted. Her eyes are wide. She is looking up at the sky the same way I am.
We fly in silence for a long time.
At some point, Isla’s body softens against mine. Her tight grip on my forearm loosens just a fraction. She isn’t relaxed, not truly, but the worst of the terror has faded. I keep my arms around her.
Eventually, the dragon begins to descend. We drop back through the shroud, and the stars vanish, swallowed once more by the gray.
We descend into a valley nestled between the arms of a mountain range. Even in the darkness, I can make out the shapes of trees. Not the skeletal, dead things that litter the wastes, but trees with canopy. Trees with leaves.
And beyond the valley, in the far distance, the jagged silhouette of an impressive mountain range that cuts against the sky.
The grass below is thick enough to be visible, even in the darkness. The trees grow denser as we drop lower. Some of them are enormous, their branches spreading wide, and very much alive.
A structure comes into view. A large wooden cabin with warm light leaking from the edges of one or two of the shuttered windows.
Beside it, an even larger building that looks like a barn.
Behind the homestead, something catches the faint starlight and throws it back.
It’s a lake; its surface is still and glassy, reflecting the sky above it.
And beyond the lake, in a wide, open field, several horses stand with their heads lowered, grazing as if this is any other night.
It looks like it has barely been touched by the rot. A pocket of life. A sanctuary.
The dragon descends the last stretch quickly. The trees rush up to meet us, and the dragon flares its wings, slowing hard. The landing is surprisingly gentle given the beast’s size. A heavy thud, a few strides forward through the grass, and then we are still.
The dragon crouches down.
“Good girl,” Orion says, patting her neck in very much the same way I would a horse.
Then he drops from the dragon’s neck and turns to face us.
“You can get down now,” he says.
I release Isla. I get off first and then stand ready, in case she needs me.
She doesn’t.
She swings her leg over and slides down the dragon’s side, landing with a soft thud.
I straighten and face Orion, not quite sure what to expect.
He touches his dragon on her horn. “Thank you, Delphine. You were magnificent.”