Chapter 12
Ever
I RACE FOR THE STACK of shipping containers the Syphons have fashioned into a home, leaping for the top edge of the closest one.
The metal is warm against my palms, but thankfully not searing, and I hurriedly pull myself up and then jump for the roof edge of the next assembled layer.
Level by level, I scale the stack faster than I ever have before—thank you, new dragon strength.
I swing up onto the summit of shipping containers just as the dark purple dragon sets down its cargo near the ridges in the distance.
The teal dragon also sets down a gigantic box, one I didn’t notice it was carrying until now.
Unnerved, I scan the sky for more of The Horde, but it’s clear of clouds and other monsters at the moment. Ignoring the cold dread collecting at my nape, I turn to Vasu, the guard on watch this morning, and hold out my hand.
“Binocs?” I request, but instead of handing me his, he hurries to the supply chest and starts pulling out every device we have.
His harness clinks and clatters against the safety line he’s attached to as he hurries back, and I note the distinct sound of boots climbing the rungs of metal ladders that lead up each side of the stack.
Vasu hands me the gear, and instantly I fit it to my head and pull the lenses down over my eyes.
Startlingly, the dragons suddenly look as though they’re right in front of me, and I hurry to tap the frame of the lenses until they pan out and I can take in the two immense beasts in all their terrifying glory.
“What do we got?” Craith demands as he tops the ladder and strides onto the roof. Vasu hastily debriefs the other wyvern, and I focus on our unwelcome visitors.
The two dragons have landed on the far side of the sea of sand surrounding our triangle of dunes.
They’re near the field of yardangs, which is an odd place to stop.
The sand-stripped rock formations hide a series of interconnected ravines on their opposite side, and unease curdles in my stomach as I study the intruders.
The dragons make quick work of removing the straps on their flown-in freight, and then they start unloading the contents. Large equipment I don’t recognize fills my field of view. Then half a dozen animals are herded out into a fenced area the purple dragon nimbly set up.
I zoom in on the pastured creatures, and my stomach bottoms out before filling with wasps.
“What are those?” Vasu asks, the question tinged with both awe and worry.
“Loam hounds,” Craith and I answer at the same time.
The size of ancient elephants, with blue fur, two sets of beady black eyes, and a pair of front legs twice the size of their back ones, I instantly understand why the dragons set up shop where they did.
It’s the shadiest part of this quadrant of The Scorch, thanks to the tall yardangs, and those hounds much prefer the dark over the light.
Vero stomps onto the roof and takes the binocs Vasu hands him. He doesn’t say a word, just calmly scans the major fucking problem that just landed in our backyard.
“Vasu, go get Saba and your kids, and start packing,” I order. “Send Mayur or Sofann up to take over your watch.”
Understanding alights in Vasu’s eyes, and a gleam of apprehension accompanies it. “Yes, Scioness,” he replies instantly before rushing to set his equipment down.
With deft fingers, he transfers the lead on his harness from the safety line to the zip line that’s anchored into the ground.
Without another word, the wyvern drops over the edge of the roof and zooms down to the sand.
I watch him land safely and then focus back on the dragons as they start to secure a perimeter and set up some fancy-looking tents that glimmer with magi-tech.
“They probably have air-con,” Vero scoffs, obviously watching the same thing I am.
“You think this is a coincidence, or do they know we’re here?”
Before I can answer, the teal dragon shrinks and shifts until it’s no longer a gargantuan winged nightmare, but a drake. A drake I recognize with his long blond hair, mossy-green eyes, and lightning-esque dragon mark that forks up his throat and chin before stopping just under his bottom lip.
“Biscuit,” I can practically hear the butter knife–stealing bastard purr as I survey the Stormer. Herm is slow to call his scale armor and, before I can look away, flashes a full-frontal display of why the male happens to be so cocky.
I readjust my binocs, searching the area for the dark purple dragon while Herm makes himself decent.
Instead of the dragon, I find Blay, thankfully covered in dark purple scale armor.
He pulls his light brown hair into a knot at the back of his head.
His hands are covered in a dragon mark of lines and glyphs, and his gray eyes scan the expanse of onyx sand until they land on the trio of dunes that surrounds our camp.
Vero and I both go completely still. I know Blay can’t see us, the wards prevent it, but tell that to my racing heart and the wasps stinging the shit out of my insides right now.
“Fuck,” I murmur and then pull my binocs off.
“Know them, Scioness?” Craith asks, and I nod.
“They’re two of the ten dragons that make up Aeson Noctis’s Wing,” I supply, aiming for nonchalant.
Judging by the way Vero looks over at me, I fall short of nonchalant and land somewhere in fuck my life territory.
“The teal one is Herm. He’s a Stormer.”
“Damn,” Vero grudgingly grunts. “How many elements?”
“Three as far as I can tell, and mostly Current Class. He’s an electro mag, air tamer, and I suspect he has a small affinity for water too.”
“Oh, is that all?” Craith snarks, studying Herm more intensely like he’s hoping to find neon signs pointing out the Wing member’s weak spots.
“The other drake is Blay. He’s a Render, Shield Class.”
Craith swears. “Can he sense our wards?”
I shrug. “I think we’re about to find out.”
I set my binocs back in the supply crate and retrieve a pair of gloves with reinforced armor on the palms and fingers.
“When Vasu’s replacement gets here, tell them to record every move the drakes make. I want updates every ten,” I order.
“Yes, Scioness,” both Craith and Vero confirm, and with that, I grab onto the zip line and fling myself off the roof.
My feet touch sand sooner than I’d like, but the wind against my face and the speed of the fall are a soothing balm against the annoying austerity of physics.
All the guards that’re usually assigned to the perimeter of our wards have been called in, and it’s eerily quiet across the sands of our camp.
I rush to the stack’s entrance, the cadence of my steps sounding angry as I stride through the hallway that leads to the dining hall.
The air is thick with anticipation, and worried murmurs spill out of the dining hall like the steady chirps of a cricket’s song.
I hesitate at the threshold. This is my fault.
I should have said something to Enslee when I accidentally opened the bond with Aeson.
We should have been preparing for this outcome all morning, and yet I kept my mouth shut. Why?
I massage my temples and work to slow my hammering heart.
Stupid, twitterpated, pain in the ass bond.
Aeson and I have only been apart for a handful of days, I didn’t think it would be this insistent already, or that I might subconsciously sabotage things to bring him closer.
I shove that thought away, not wanting to even consider the possibility or the ramifications.
With a deep breath, I force myself to step into the dining hall.
Instantly the chatter dies and silence sweeps in to takes its place.
Long tables and filled chairs dot the room, and I find Enslee where she always stands when she’s about to address all of us.
Olinta and Amadi—two members of her Flight—flank her, their eyes scanning the small assembly as though they’re expecting trouble.
The silence is unsettling, but not more so than every eye in the dining hall tracking each step I take to close the distance to my twin. Enslee gives me the signal to say whatever I’m here to say, out loud, and Olinta makes room for me so I can stop next to my sister and turn to address the room.
My heart thrums in my chest and I feel oddly aware of every breath and blink as everyone waits for me to confirm what they already know.
“Our timeline just imploded,” I announce evenly. “The Horde is here.”
The dining hall explodes with reactions, anger, bugled challenges, fear. I wait until it quiets down again before continuing.
“There are only two dragons here for now, but they’re setting up camp, I’m sure it won’t be long before more arrive.” I turn to Enslee. “We need to move the designated survivors before that happens.”
The room collectively holds its breath, as everyone’s attention transfers to my sister.
“They have loam hounds,” I add as Enslee considers the information. “If we’re going to evacuate through the tunnels, we need to do it now before they fill up with the dwarves’ dogs and our skies are overrun with dragons.”
Enslee stares at me, her gaze silently communicating her surprise that this is actually happening. We’ve all prepared for this, but preparing and executing are two very different beasts. Enslee blinks, and resolve fills her light green eyes.
“Do it,” she orders with a regal nod, and I turn back to the Syphons and wyverns waiting in the dining hall.
“With my missing Flight, things are going to be tighter than we anticipated,” I announce, ignoring the ache that flares to life in my chest. “Those of you leaving will do so with only three wyverns as protection. I wish we could spare more, but the remaining four will be needed to give you as much of a head start as we can.”
I expect objections, but there’s a cold acceptance that washes through the room.
Seven Syphons, three adult wyverns, and three children will flee to a secret location as part of backup plan that will keep our kind from being wiped out in the event that the rest of us are killed when we come out of hiding.
It’s phase two: hide the last of our hope, abandon the Scorch, and confront The Horde.
We have a little more work ahead of us than we thought, so we’ll have to pivot, but that’s never stopped us before.
Pride blankets me like a warm cloak, as I take in each of the gathered wyverns and Syphons.
Love and appreciation fills the craters in my soul.
We’ve all been through so much, but we’re ready. We’ll do what we have to do.
Enslee steps forward, her chin raised and her shoulders back.
“For sixty-two years we’ve survived the unsurvivable.
The slaughter of our kindred. The Scorch.
The curse. Everything meant to destroy us has failed against our strength and resilience.
This will be no different. It’s time to divide and conquer. ”
Fists hammer down on the tables in unison. The resonant boom of support and agreement has goose bumps climbing up my arms and across my shoulders.
“Each of us has a role to play. For some it’s to stay safe and hidden. For others it’s to infiltrate The Horde where we’ll execute the final phase of our plan. For sixty two years we’ve trained and waited, and now the wait is over.”
Another anchoring boom fills the room, and it’s as though providence herself is whispering promises of justice and retribution in our ears.
“We will find our affinities!” Enslee declares. “We will reveal! We will take back what was stolen from us! And the ones that’ve betrayed us will pay!”
The dining hall fills with a cacophony of shouts as fists pummel tables and boots stomp the floor. Enslee smiles, and I can’t help but mirror it. Shrewdly, we observe the display, one question on both of our minds: Which one of you will suffer alongside the dragons for your deceit?
Enslee raises her hands and the din lowers. “Until we see each other again, spark the flames, ignite the infernos, and ash the embers.”
By the time she gets to the second directive, every Syphon and wyvern in the dining hall is bellowing each word like the vow it is. The Syphons will either claim their rightful place in this world?.?.?. or die trying.