Chapter 2
I stare up at the dragon in disbelief. It, and the storm, came out of nowhere.
The witch’s familiar is as big as the War-Father’s castle on Amkreig. Its wings flare with a boom, blocking the smoky gray sky and plunging the ship into shadow. No rain falls yet, but lightning splinters down toward the waves.
The black dragon’s heavy-jawed head is densely spiked, its eyes like small glossy beads. It hovers just out of range of the catapults.
There's only one dragon of this size or coloring, and it belongs to the worst of them: the King of Witches. One lone Hellion would never willingly go against a target like this one, and he doesn’t usually come this far north.
No matter how skilled I am, our odds of survival are low. My stomach churns.
“Keep loading,” I shout as I unclip my gauntlets and pull them on.
There’s no time to get my helmet from my cabin.
If Rampage doesn’t keep up a volley, it will be too easy for the dragon to get in close.
Already its eyes dart around, following the catapults and deciding when to drop close enough to flame us.
Blue light punches up the ship’s spear like lightning, casting the whole deck into bright relief.
Rampage has three masts: the first and third carry sails. The one in the middle is bare. It’s painted with enchantment lines, made to carry the ship’s magic to me and to the battle.
I hate that this is the only way we can fight. Using Rampage’s full power will drain the Enchanted terribly. If I can’t get rid of the dragon quickly, not all of them will survive the battle.
The ship's power hums through the air, an acidic tang burning in my nose. The sailors keep loading catapults as others scale the masts to take in the sails.
The nearest catapult hurls a sphere of blue fire through the air, straight toward the dragon’s chest. When it reaches halfway the sphere abruptly changes course, whizzing to the left.
Magic. The dragon isn’t being controlled from afar. Its master must be riding on its back.
Rampage’s power hums so brightly my teeth rattle in my gums. My limbs buzz with energy for the fight.
But until the dragon dives, all I can do is wait, and watch.
It beats its wings slowly, hovering in place and sending waves of air blasting across the deck.
The sailors hurrying to cut the sails dangle from the netting as Rampage spins in the heavy wind.
One, not tied in properly, falls with a ragged scream.
“Reef those gods-damned sails, sailors.” Harfor’s voice booms across the deck.
My squire isn’t keyed to the ship’s magic. She can only take over to fight for the ship and the crew if I die first.
The dragon folds its wings and finally dives toward us. This is it.
A blistering cannon of fire shoots from its mouth as lightning spikes towards us.
Bright white heat meets the blue of Rampage’s shield.
One of the sailors shrieks in fear as fire and lightning roil over the edge of our ship’s light.
The coiled ropes and barrels of water in front of me dance and shimmer under waves of heat.
Sweat beads on my forehead, but my enchanted armor keeps the rest of me cooler.
The dragon’s head snaps back as it realizes its fire hasn’t destroyed us. Rampage may have catapults instead of the newer cannons, but she has a better shield than most Hellions. She has to, to brave the transport runs alone.
Of course, she has more than just that. She also has me. And I’m better at wielding enchantment than any other knight I’ve met.
The dragon banks hard, circling away so it can come back again with another attack. It's so huge that as it turns, its long tail comes swinging around toward the ship.
This is my chance. I run, digging my feet into the deck, arms pumping until I practically fly.
The armor makes me faster, exaggerating the movement of my limbs and powering them past what my own muscles can provide. I charge up the prow, the front of the ship that extends over the water, and jump.
For a terrifying moment I’m airborne over the disgusting, foul, terrible sea, as the dragon’s tail lashes toward me. It collides like an avalanche, and knocks the wind from my lungs.
My arms and legs hug around it for dear life. Even the tail is spiked, providing hand-holds that would have broken my ribs without the enchantment in my armor. As the beast turns and rises, positioning itself for another dive, I climb.
The beast dips and rises as its wings beat. Wind snatches at me, first a blast of the ocean’s cool brine, then the sulphuric warmth of the dragon’s breath. I grit my teeth and keep moving.
At the base of its tail, the heavy back-spines of the dragon become pronounced. I wrap my forearms around a broad ridge of spike and grip tight as the dragon drops a foot, then rises again.
The witch sits at the base of the dragon’s neck, facing away from me, unaware I’m about to attack.
Even from the far end of the massive dragon, I note the width of his shoulders beneath his leather armor, and the narrow taper of his hips.
His black hair blows freely behind him as the dragon tucks its wings and dives down toward my ship again.
We’re falling, tilted forward. The dragon’s back forms a steep downward slope in front of me, and the witches’ king, the one man responsible for every necessary cruelty we've endured, is below. At the base of the neck.
I can’t worry about draining the Enchanted. They’re going to die if I lose, too. I’ll change the course of this war right now if I can just kill this one witch.
I know I'm up against the strongest of our foes, but I have to believe there's at least a chance I can pull this off.
“Guide me,” I shout, reaching for my ship Rampage’s power without using the longer incantations most knights rely on.
I stand on shaking legs and free my gold-washed sword from its sheath.
It hums blue with enchantment. For a moment I hover above the dragon, falling at a different speed, and then I crash down into a run so hard my bones ache.
The ship’s magic is an anchor pulling me down the slope.
I run so fast, so vertically, that each step takes me two dozen feet.
My blade crackles with power. I raise it as I reach the man seated on the dragon’s back.
He turns at the last moment to see me.
The witch’s face is chiseled, his jaw and cheekbones prominent. His skin is pale against the black of his long wind-torn hair. He’d be beautiful if not for his eyes, burning with an unnatural orange light, evidence of his wicked bond to the monster he’s riding.
My sword comes down. The witch narrows those burning eyes.
He twists out of the way and jumps to his feet with unnatural speed, moving so smoothly it’s like he’s mastered the wind. My sword doesn't hesitate, spinning to change course before slashing toward him.
For a moment as I draw near him again, he looks startled, eyes wide and lips parted.
A pillar of wind slams against me, pushing me away from him so violently I lose my footing and stumble.
The wind rips water from my eyes as I fly ten feet back.
I grab a spike to stop myself, crouching low so I’m a smaller target.
The wind stops and then snaps against my right side, the directional shift so abrupt there’s no question the witch is controlling the storm.
My braid lashes through the air. The wind rips one of my blue ribbons loose, to dance beside me before fluttering down toward the sea.
The witch strides toward me with a frown. No matter how many witches I kill it won’t be enough. They’re the reason we’ll never know peace; the reason we still need to use the Enchanted.
“Your eyes…” he starts. His voice is as low as the thunder booming around us.
“Shut up,” I hiss. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. My blue eyes don’t burn with witch’s magic. They’re just pale, almost bright, but it’s a natural color.
My body slides across the dragon’s twisting back. I dig my feet against the jagged scales and launch myself at him as hard as I can.
“Why would you fight for them?” he asks, his feet planted as I sprint closer to him.
He’s trying to get into my head. It won’t work.
I reach him and strike. A thin blade of air knocks my sword back, away from his chest. This witch wields the wind like needle and thread, lines of force piercing through the sky and dancing at his command.
The wind doesn’t hit the rest of me. My armored body slams into him. His arms close around my waist, as I hook his leg with my own and bear him down to the dragon’s back.
He goes almost too easily, and the look on his face is… intrigued? Or perhaps amused. The witches’ hair splays out beneath him. I pant, and pin his body down with my own.
Our eyes lock, my blue with his burning orange, and he stares so hard it’s like he’s trying to crawl into my mind.
I yank on my sword, trying to kill him, to end this.
But the air keeps it pinned back no matter what I do.
Our faces are a foot apart. I can smell him, leather and storm and smoke. He tightens his hand on my hip.
“Who are you?” he whispers, his voice as tender as a lovers’. My sword still won’t budge, blocked by an invisible blade of wind.
I struggle up off him, plant one knee on his chest, and reach for a dagger with my free hand.
The witch raises both eyebrows.
And then, like he could have done it the whole time I had him pinned, wind plucks me off him and hurls me up fifteen feet into the sky. My legs kick uselessly as my stomach flips. His magic is stronger than I’m used to facing. I should have expected that.
I roar and grab more power from the Enchanted on the ship. It’s more than I’ve ever taken at once, so much power I feel their lives running through my fingers. I cannot lose this battle. I slam back toward the dragon, overpowering the wind.
“You don’t even care that you’re killing them, do you?” I shout. The wind snatches my words. But he’s a witch. Of course he doesn’t care. He would have killed hundreds to bond with a dragon of this size.
He dives and rolls away at the last second, his movements deadly graceful.
“You’re the one wielding death, imperialist,” the witch says, his voice cold and clear. “Whoever you were, they’ve turned you into a monster.”
I scream and lunge. He ducks, and we do it again, like we’re dancing across the dragon’s broad back, and this man who towers over me moves with all the lightness of the wind, always just out of reach as I hurl my body and my blade toward him.
I palm a dagger into my left hand, slashing wildly with my sword in my right, hoping he won’t notice the smaller blade. I lunge, until we’re mere feet apart. And then my hand flicks out and sends the knife flying toward his chest.
The witch’s eyes widen and he stumbles. He moves away just fast enough that the blade slices a line across his chest instead of burying into his heart.
And then he falls away from me, four feet to the right. He grabs one of the spikes in front of him and swings his body down over the side of the dragon, his feet dangling over the air. My sword yanks me toward him. I fall to my knees and swing down at him.
The dragon roars and barrels over, flipping onto its side. Now the King is supported, resting on the dragon’s shoulder.
But I wasn’t holding onto anything. The open sea lurches beneath me. I reach for the dragon’s spikes, letting my sword fall. I need both hands to save myself.
I grab one of the spikes, but my fingers are already slipping. I swing my other hand up to grab on, and pull on Rampage’s power to help me.
A blast of the bastard’s wind slams against me, ripping me off the dragon.
My legs kick out, my hands reaching for something else to grab, but with every heartbeat the dragon is further above me.
“Asshole,” I shriek.
And then a blaze of dragon fire engulfs me, and there is no space to think about anything but pain.
The metal armor melts and reforms on my right arm, where the fire hit first. Molten silver, and then it’s armor again, the enchantment keeping it whole.
Cold slams my body as I hit the water. Saltwater floods my mouth, my nose, my lungs.
Well, there you are, a voice says, deep and crackling like a fire, a voice so loud it consumes me. Oh, little knight. What have you done to yourself?
It’s a voice I haven’t heard in years, since I was seven and drowning for the first time. Am I hallucinating? Is this what death feels like?
Dragons aren’t the only beasts in this world. They rule the skies. But something else rules the deep. Something worse. And it’s here. For me. It’s been waiting.
I tried so hard to keep from ever touching the ocean.