Chapter 17
Amassive figure slammed into Caorath from above, the impact so violent it sent us spinning sideways through the air. The dragon’s roar of pain and fury tore through the sky as claws raked across his crimson scales, drawing lines of fire-bright blood.
I had a split second to register wings black as midnight, vast enough to blot out the sun, before we were falling.
Not falling. Plummeting.
Caorath’s wings beat frantically as he tried to stabilise, but whatever had hit us wasn’t done.
It circled back, and I caught a glimpse of something that shouldn’t exist. A dragon, but wrong.
Twisted. Its scales seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, and its eyes burned with the sickly green of infected wounds.
Then Darian screamed.
The sound ripped through me. I looked down to see a spear—jagged obsidian that gleamed with its own malevolent light—erupt from his side, punching through leather and flesh to emerge blood-slicked from just below his ribs.
“Fuck!” The word tore from my throat as Darian’s hands spasmed on Caorath’s handles, his body convulsing around the weapon embedded in his torso.
Blood poured from the wound, soaking through his shirt, staining my hands where I gripped his waist. Too much blood. Far too much.
“Darian!” I pressed my palm against the entry wound, trying to stem the flow, but the spear had punched clean through him. My other hand came away slick and hot when I reached for the exit wound.
“Don’t—” he gasped, wet and wrong. “Don’t pull it out. Need to—fuck—need to land.”
Caorath banked to the left, his flight pattern erratic as he fought against his own injuries and his rider’s failing grip. I could feel the dragon’s distress, pain and panic and a fury that levelled mountains.
“They’re not normal dragons,” Darian wheezed, his grip on consciousness clearly slipping. “Shadow-touched. Nyxarian war beasts.”
Nyxarian. Of course they fucking were.
Above us, Thessarian banked hard to the right, Varyth’s silver hair whipping behind him as he brought his dragon alongside our faltering flight.
His eyes locked onto mine across the space between us, and I could see the calculation there.
The way he was already weighing options, discarding the ones that wouldn’t work.
“Caorath’s injured,” he shouted over the wind and the sound of our pursuer’s wings. “He can’t carry both of you and stay airborne.”
The dragon beneath us shuddered, his flight becoming more laboured with each beat of his crimson wings. Blood streaked his scales where the shadow beast’s claws had found their mark, and I could feel the tremor in his muscles as he fought to keep us aloft.
“Jump!” Varyth’s voice carved through the chaos. “Now, Isara!”
I stared at him like he’d lost his gods-damn mind. “Are you fucking insane? I’m not jumping off a dragon!”
“You are, or you’re both going to die when he falls.” Varyth guided Thessarian closer, close enough that I could see the mist already beginning to coil around his arms. “I won’t drop you.”
Behind us, the shadow dragon let out a shriek that sounded like metal tearing. It was circling back, those sickly green eyes fixed on us with hungry intelligence.
Darian slumped forward against Caorath’s neck, his grip on consciousness slipping. Blood continued to pour from the wound in his side, and his breathing had gone shallow and ragged.
“Darian,” I pressed, shaking his shoulder. “Stay with me.”
“Go,” he wheezed without lifting his head. “Can’t—can’t hold on much longer.”
The shadow dragon was closing in, its wings cutting through the air. In seconds, it would be in range to strike again.
Varyth’s mist lashed out like a living thing, silver tendrils wrapping around the shadow beast’s wings and sending it spinning away from us. But I could see the strain in his face, the way his jaw clenched with effort. He couldn’t maintain that kind of defence and catch me at the same time.
“Isara.” His voice cracked with desperation.
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” I snarled, then threw myself from Caorath’s back into open air.
The world became wind and sky and the terrible certainty that I was about to die. Gravity seized me like a greedy hand, dragging me down toward the earth that rushed up to meet me with lethal enthusiasm.
Then Varyth’s hand closed around mine.
The impact nearly tore my arm from its socket. Pain exploded through my shoulder as my body jerked to a violent stop, the full weight of my falling form transferred to that single point of contact. I screamed—couldn’t help it—as fire raced down my arm and into my ribs.
But Varyth’s grip held. His fingers were like iron around mine, refusing to let go even as my weight threatened to drag us both from Thessarian’s back.
“I’ve got you,” he snarled through gritted teeth, his own body straining as he fought to haul me up. The muscles in his arm corded with effort, veins standing out stark against his pale skin.
My shoulder felt like it was being torn apart, ligaments screaming in protest as he pulled. But slowly, agonizingly, I rose through the air until his free arm could wrap around my waist and drag me fully onto Thessarian’s back.
I collapsed against his chest, gasping and shaking, my left arm hanging useless at my side.
“Caorath—” I started, looking back to where the crimson dragon struggled to maintain altitude.
“Will make it to ground,” Varyth finished grimly. “But not much further.”
The shadow beast had recovered, its wings spreading wide as it prepared for another attack. But this time, Varyth was ready.
Mist erupted from him like a storm, silver coils lashing through the air. They wrapped around the creature’s throat, its wings, dragging it down even as it fought to break free.
“Hold on,” Varyth commanded, and I pressed myself closer to his chest as Thessarian tucked her wings close to her body.
We dove.
The world became a blur of speed and violence as Thessarian plummeted toward the shadow dragon, her claws extended like golden daggers. The impact when we struck was devastating, scales and blood and the sound of bones breaking beneath the force of our attack.
The shadow beast shrieked, its own claws raking across Thessarian’s flank, drawing lines of crimson. But Varyth’s mist was already moving, constricting around the creature’s throat until its cries became strangled gasps.
For a moment, I thought we had won.
Another shadow dragon, larger than the first, its scales so black they seemed to devour light itself. But as it dove toward us, wings spread like the promise of death, something else exploded from the opposite direction.
This dragon was different. Smaller than the shadow beast but faster, its scales a deep forest green that caught the light like emeralds. It struck the Nyxarian creature, silver claws finding the soft spots between armoured scales.
The shadow dragon’s death cry echoed across the sky as it tumbled toward the earth, its attacker banking sharply away before I could get a clear look at its rider.
“What the hells—” I started.
“Later,” Varyth cut me off, one arm wrapped around me as he guided Thessarian toward where Caorath was making his unsteady descent. “We need to reach Darian.”
The crimson dragon hit the ground hard, his legs buckling as he tried to control the landing. I watched in horror as he skidded across the rocky terrain, Darian’s limp form strapped to his back.
Thessarian touched down nearby, and I was sliding from her back before she’d fully settled. My legs shook as my feet hit solid ground, fury and terror and the lingering effects of that wild flight combining to turn my muscles to water.
But I forced myself to run.
Darian lay crumpled against Caorath’s neck, the obsidian spear protruding from his side.
“Darian.” I dropped to my knees beside him, my hands hovering over the wound as I tried to assess the damage. “Can you hear me?”
His eyes fluttered open, unfocused but aware. “Did we win?”
“We’re alive,” I said, which wasn’t quite the same thing. “That’s going to have to be enough.”
Varyth knelt on Darian’s other side, his eyes fixed on the wound. “The spear missed his heart, but we need to stop the bleeding.”
“Can you heal him?” The question came out more desperate than I intended.
“I can stabilise him. But he needs a proper healer, and soon.” Varyth’s hands began to glow with silver light as he worked. “The question is whether we can get him back to Edrithas before—”
A shadow passed overhead.
We all froze, looking up to see the green dragon circling above us.
“What the hell is that?” I demanded, tight with exhaustion and panic.
“A complication.”
The green dragon swerved, riderless but moving with deadly purpose. Even without someone guiding it, I could see the way it moved. Fluid, predatory, like it was weighing whether we were worth the effort to kill.
“Helpful as always,” I snarled, pressing my hands against Darian’s wound as another gush of blood seeped around the obsidian spear. His skin had gone the colour of old parchment, and his breathing was getting shallower by the second.
Varyth’s hands continued to glow with silver light as he worked, but I could see the truth. Whatever healing he was managing wasn’t enough, not with that much blood loss, not with that spear buried in Darian’s torso.
“We need to move,” Varyth said, the words clipped with urgency. “Now.”
“He’s barely conscious,” I protested. “Moving him could—”
“Staying here will kill him.” Varyth’s gaze flicked up to mine, and something desperate lurked beneath that controlled surface. “The bleeding is slowing, but he needs a healer. Real healing, not whatever patchwork I can manage in the field.”
Above us, the green dragon let out a cry that was either a challenge or a warning. It circled lower, those amber eyes studying us with uncomfortable intelligence.
“Friend or foe?” I asked, not looking away from Darian’s too-pale face.