27. Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Seven
A blast of hot air crashed against Callan’s face as he materialized on the side of a mountain, mere paces from a steep drop-off. Beside him, Nova’s knees buckled, and she nearly lost her balance. He and Bryn grabbed hold of her shoulders and wrenched her back against the mountainside.
“Gods above,” Bryn said. “Where have you brought us?”
Nova’s head lolled between Bryn and Callan, steel eyes blinking as she slowly returned to herself. “Jus’ where I ’tended to.”
Her words fell, thick and syrupy, from her lips; the walk between shadows had taken much from her.
“S’where I stood in my vision.”
“Drop us in the fiery pit next time, why don’t you?” Bryn grinned, jerking her chin toward the summit crowned with a ring of black smoke.
Callan’s gaze lifted briefly to Dawnpeak, then lowered to peer over the narrow ledge they stood upon. Normally, heights didn’t frighten him, but he wasn’t accustomed to so little distance keeping him from plummeting to his death.
Callan cleared his throat, attempting to banish the agitation from his voice. “What’s the plan here?”
Nova pressed her lips together, beads of sweat already gathering on her brow, from both the effort of shadow walking and the oppressive heat.
“Bryn, can you scout for us?” Nova lifted a hand toward the sky stretching between them and the next craggy peak. “The drak from my vision must have a den nearby.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Bryn stepped as far away from Nova as the ledge—barely wide enough to accommodate the three of them standing shoulder to shoulder—would allow.
In a blink, her limbs contorted and her body shrank, skin and clothing morphing into dark feathers as she took the form of an ordinary raven.
Wings spread wide, she soared on the warm air to survey the surrounding terrain.
Beside Callan, Nova tipped her head back, resting it against the rock, her eyes fluttering shut. Callan fumbled for her hand and squeezed it firmly in his own.
“You really are remarkable. You know that, Starlight?”
Nova groaned, eyes still closed. “You heard Bryn. I came this close to burning us alive.” She held up her other hand, the pads of her thumb and forefinger nearly touching.
“Your accuracy needs work, it’s true,” he conceded, unable to keep a brief smile from his lips. Nova turned her face to him, her disorientation seemingly improved. “But you did it.”
Callan’s smile faded and his brows rose, his chest swelling with admiration for his mate. Her ability to meet any challenge the gods placed in her path.
“You’re incredible.”
Nova smiled faintly, her gaze falling to his feet. Immediately, she tipped her head back, eyes squeezed shut once more.
“Remind me not to look down,” she said on the heels of an airy laugh. “Where is that bloody raven?”
Bryn alighted on the ledge moments later, shifting back into her Fae form and standing so close to the edge that a strong breeze might send her into free fall.
The Wyldling’s tone was casual as she delivered a report of her findings, entirely unbothered by the deadly drop, though Callan imagined Bryn was likely more at home in the sky than on the ground.
Her keen eyes had spied a cave further down the mountainside; there was no traversable path leading to the entrance.
“Apologies,” Bryn said, “but it seems I’ll need to carry you.”
Callan pressed his lips together at Bryn’s teasing grin, entirely at odds with her apology.
“No offense, but I refuse to be clutched in your talons. My injuries from last time have only just stopped itching.” He gestured to his ribs where the wounds he sustained in Tundara had finally healed.
Alternatively, they devised a plan whereby Bryn shifted into her great raven form, nearly taking up the entire ledge.
Callan hoisted Nova onto Bryn’s back before grabbing a handful of iridescent black feathers and swinging himself up to sit behind his mate.
While he and Nova situated themselves, Bryn bobbed up and down, clearly eager to take to the sky.
Kneeling so as not to interfere with Bryn’s wings, Nova leaned forward, pressing her chest flat against the bird’s back and taking hold of the long, shaggy feathers at her neck. Callan brought his chest flush with Nova’s back, and he, too, gripped Bryn’s feathers like reins.
“Bryn, no nonsense,” he instructed, his words steeped in command. “We’ve no time for games.”
Bryn croaked in response and cocked her head, one glassy, black eye staring back at him as if in challenge.
“Bryn—” Before he could continue, the great bird leapt off the ledge and into the open sky.
She beat her wings a few times to gain altitude before settling into a warm current of air and gliding for a time.
Caught somewhere between awe and terror, Callan couldn’t make a sound as he clung to the enormous bird and took in the mountainous terrain rolling out to the horizon in every direction.
Just when he’d nearly adjusted to the sensation, Bryn tucked her wings in close to her body, tipping them forward into a free fall.
Callan gritted his teeth, pressing his knees into Bryn’s back and crushing himself against Nova, desperate to keep them both astride.
A heartbeat before he feared he’d lose his grip, Bryn adjusted her wings once again, slowing their descent as they approached a cave entrance punched into the side of the mountain.
Callan slid down immediately, never more pleased to plant his feet on solid ground. Knees wobbly, he helped Nova down as well. In an instant, Bryn shifted back to her Fae form and turned to face them. He charged forward, brandishing a chiding finger.
“Never again, Bryn!” His agitated voice echoed inside the natural vestibule carved into the rock.
Nova caught his other arm, tugging him back and urging him to be quiet, the command hissed between her teeth.
Callan quickly composed himself as a low, rumbling rattle sounded from deep within the cave.
A wave of hot air rushed out of the tunnel stretching out before them, the walls seeming to glow like embers.
Sobered by the visceral reminder of their task and the danger they faced, Callan gathered Nova and Bryn into a huddle.
“This is clearly a fire drak, so my magic is our best defense against it. We go in quiet. With any luck, the creature will be asleep. We find the shard. We get out. Agreed?”
The others nodded, both answering, “Agreed.”
With that, they turned to face the tunnel and whatever fate awaited them at the other end.
Nova thought they looked rather like a band of carriage robbers, kerchiefs raised to cover their noses and mouths.
They proceeded at a measured pace along the gentle downward slope toward the drak den.
Every so often, the rock rumbled beneath their boots, shaking the walls of the passageway.
They’d stop, crouching slightly and pressing their hands to the walls to steady themselves, then resume their path once the ground had stilled.
The closer they got to the den, the more the earth trembled.
Nova swallowed hard, swiping the back of her wrist over her forehead. She tried to imagine how large the creature might be. When she’d seen it in her vision, it had been a good distance away—and even then, it had been enormous.
At last, they arrived at the end of the tunnel, both the reek of brimstone and the heat intensifying as they reached the opening to a chamber.
Callan, who had been leading the way, halted suddenly, throwing his arms out at his sides to prevent Nova or Bryn from going further.
Nova peered around his shoulder. In the depths of the mountain below a stone footbridge lay a lake of molten rock bathing the massive cavern in an orange glow.
The same low rumble filled the room, the ground trembling beneath their feet.
The sound drew Nova’s eyes from the fiery pool to the other side of the bridge, where the drak lounged, asleep and, as yet, unaware of their intrusion into its lair.
The creature lay on a bed of treasures, gold and precious stones glinting like stars in the amber light.
As Nova looked upon the slumbering beast, its nostrils flaring with each exhale, its tail occasionally snapping lazily back and forth, a familiar burn ignited in her right palm.
Kinslayer was hidden somewhere nearby. She was certain of it.
Apparently satisfied with his visual inspection of the chamber, Callan lowered his arms and stepped out onto the footbridge, motioning with a gloved hand for Nova and Bryn to follow.
Though the pathway was wide enough for a handful of Nivalian warriors to cross shoulder to shoulder, the three of them remained close, walking with careful steps down the center.
As they neared the far side, the burn in Nova’s hand flared, traveling to her wrist like a flame consuming a trail of spilled oil.
She pressed her lips together, wary of making any sound that might disturb the drak.
The three of them paused again once they'd crossed the bridge, standing only a stone’s throw from the creature, its foul breath blasting them rhythmically as it dozed.
Bryn turned to Nova, eyes expectant above her forest-green kerchief. “How will we find the shard?” she murmured. “This place is huge. What if it’s not even here?”
Nova swiped a shirtsleeve over her brow then shook out her right hand. “It’s here.” She nodded. “I can feel it.”
“What now?” Bryn asked.
“I’ll need to get close. The blade . . . calls to me. The pain in my hand—it worsens the nearer I get.”
“Suppose the beast is sleeping on it,” Bryn hissed, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the creature large enough to swallow any one of them with a single gnash of its jaws.
“Then we’ll have to wake it,” Callan huffed, putting an end to Bryn’s inquiries. “Though, for our sakes, I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
He laid a hand on Nova’s shoulder, dipping his head to meet her eye.