Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
HAVEN
Teal looked over his shoulder and tightened his hold on me before spurring his horse to a gallop.
I swallowed a squeak of alarm—only Teal’s strong arms kept me atop the horse—and focused on the monster in the sky.
Its body was a sickly yellowish green, and its enormous wings were a sludgy brown.
Spikes ran the length of its back. A webbed membrane circled its head like a mane, and its face—I had to close my eyes for a few seconds—its long face ended in a pointed snout.
Grayson, Pierce, and Flynn galloped beside us, and the thunder of panicked horses’ hooves rang loudly in my ears. But the creature was gaining. Quickly. I sent a gust of wind, hoping to blow it off course.
The beast spiraled away from the gust and kept coming.
“How do we stop it?” The beast was close enough for me to see the rabid hunger gleaming in its eyes.
It drew its lips back, revealing horrific fangs, and then it spat at us.
I reacted, creating the first thing I could think of—a wall of ice.
The venom sizzled through the ice in seconds.
The wyvern wasn’t using magic; it was magic. Would my shield even work? I tried a wall of fire, but the wyvern flew through it, untouched by the flames.
Panic had me reaching deep within myself. I had shielding powers. I needed to use them. I created a shield large enough to protect us all.
A glob of venom hit its surface, and the shield held firm.
We were safe. From the wyvern’s venom. Its claws and teeth were another matter.
I strengthened the shield as the wyvern spat more poison at us.
The venom coated the shield before dripping to the earth. Wherever it landed, the grass withered and died.
Grayson glanced over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes as more poison hit my shield. “Faster.” Obviously, he understood the remaining danger.
Even if the horses ran faster, there was no cover in sight, only endless fields. After the night I’d just had, I never imagined I’d long for trees, but the thought of spreading branches had me wishing for the forest.
“How do we kill it?” Pierce twisted in his saddle, assessing the monster in the sky.
“Its eyes are its weak spot,” Teal yelled. “Decapitation also works.”
Another glob of poison hit my shield. Even as the droplets slid to the ground, I memorized the venom’s composition—how to create it—how to use it.
The wyvern shrieked its frustration, which urged the horses to run faster.
Teal’s horse, which carried the weight of two, fell behind. Panic rose from the animal’s sweat-soaked neck. It pressed its ears flat against its head, and foam from its mouth blew back on us. No surprise, the animal stumbled.
The break in the horse’s stride jerked me free of Teal’s tight hold.
The world spun as I fell, sky and earth trading places before I slammed into the hard-packed dirt.
Pain shot through my ribs and back, and for several heartbeats I couldn’t tell which way was up.
When my vision cleared, I saw Teal sawing desperately at his reins, his mount carrying him further away with each frantic stride.
But the horse was mindless with terror. Teal had no chance of turning the animal.
Within a few seconds, all four men rode beyond my ability to shield them. Not that they needed my protection. The wyvern was focused on me.
Perfect. Just perfect.
I was alone in a fucking field with no cover. The monster was four times my size. My only hope of killing it was a spear or arrow to the eye. And if last night had taught me anything, it was that my aim sucked.
The wyvern flew closer, passing lazily overhead as if it was toying with me.
Was that sound the hammering of my heart or hooves?
I didn’t dare glance behind me. Not with a living nightmare eager for my death. Yes, I could shield myself from the venom, but the creature had fangs longer than my forearms and claws that might easily rip out my throat.
I forced myself to stand and summoned a sword, knowing it wouldn’t be enough.
The wyvern landed, and the ground shook. I’d been wrong; the beast wasn’t four times my size, it was five.
My fingers gripped the sword. Perhaps if the wyvern lowered its head …
An arrow flew past me, embedding in the monster’s neck.
It roared, spraying venomous droplets. I quickly extended my shield to protect whoever stood behind me.
“Move, Shield.” It was Grayson. The asshole had come back to help me.
Something warm and unwelcome stirred in my chest before I ruthlessly crushed it.
He wasn’t here because he cared—he was here because I was useful.
But as another glob of venom sizzled through the air, I found I didn’t care about his motives. I was just glad he’d come.
The wyvern closed the distance between us. Near enough for me to choke on its scent—rusty blood, old iron, and death.
“I told you to retreat.”
“That won’t work.” Not when the wyvern took two enormous steps whenever I took a small one.
The beast’s gaze shifted from me to the man who stood behind me, and its forked tongue tested the air.
Its legs bent, and it leaped toward Grayson, passing over my head.
I lifted my sword, cutting a deep gash in the monster’s belly.
It twisted in the air, snapping at me.
I thrust the sword into its face, catching its cheek. Missing its eye.
Better aim. If I lived through this, practicing aim would be my sole focus in training.
“Retreat. That’s an order.” Grayson’s voice cracked on the last word.
“Retreat where?” There was no cover. No escape. Either we killed the wyvern or we died.
Grayson shoved past me with an enormous broadsword gripped in his right hand.
The wyvern spat venom, and I cast another shield. Just in time too. Grayson needed his face.
The beast thrashed its tail when its poison failed.
“If I retreat, you die.”
Grayson’s response came out as a snarl rather than words. Then he lunged toward the creature’s head.
The wyvern’s pointy jaw opened, and it trapped Grayson’s sword in its fangs, ripping the weapon from his hands.
For half a second, time froze as we watched the wyvern chomp on forged steel. Not good. Not good.
“Catch.” I tossed my blade to Grayson and then called vines—venomous vines—from the earth. If we were lucky, their poison might slow the monster. The vines wrapped around the beast’s legs, their thorns piercing its scales.
The wyvern shrieked loudly enough to make my ears bleed, then struggled against the vines’ hold.
“Kill it already.”
The weight of Grayson’s answering scowl felt different—raw, worried, desperate rather than annoyed.
The wyvern twisted, and its fangs ripped at the thick vines circling its legs.
Why was Grayson just standing there? Gaping at me. “I can’t hold it forever.” And if the wyvern got free, I didn’t like our chances.
Grayson’s brow furrowed. “How are you holding it at all?”
“Enough talking.” I stole his signature phrase. “Kill it.”
Grayson growled—at me—then thrust my blade into the wyvern’s eye.