Chapter 35
FLORENCE
Wind howled along the crenellations as I burst out onto the parapet that rimmed the peak of the Avari tower. The balus-trade was no higher than my hip. As I looked over, I could see Veilmar. Festooned in orange and scarlet, the city looked as if it were drowning in a terrible sunset.
Nyxaris waited, perched against the slate-shingled tower, a mountain of obsidian shadow. Even folded, his wings rose higher than the tower’s spires. Every breath he took seemed to leave the parapet shuddering. My pulse stuttered as I thought about what we were about to do.
This is madness, I whispered.
Second thoughts?
But I knew I didn’t have that luxury. I crossed the roof carefully, Lunaya’s crossbow bouncing against my spine and the case of bolts at my hip.
A sharp bark sent me jumping out of my skin. I whirled around. “Neville?”
The fluffin stood by the stair hatch, his tail poufed outwards, his pointed ears flat against his head. He barked again, then scampered towards me, claws clicking on the flagstones. Reaching my boots, he sat down on his hind legs and chirped, then batted his paws at me, as if asking to be lifted.
“Oh, no.” I crouched down. “Neville, it’s too dangerous. You can’t possibly—wait!”
He wriggled past me, darting towards Nyxaris’s foreclaw and scrambling up his scales like a tiny mountain climber. As he reached the top of the dragon’s back, he turned to face me with a determined stare. Another bark.
“Neville, get down from there,” I scolded.
Let him come.
Hysterical laughter bubbled in my throat. Let him come? He’s the size of a puppy, and you want to take him into terrible danger?
The small one has courage, the dragon rumbled, amusement and impatience mingling together.
On Nyxaris’s back, Neville was carefully arranging himself into a little hollow I’d never noticed before—much too small to suit me, but one which fit him perfectly. A humming sound began to come from the fluffin’s throat.
“What’s he doing?” I whispered.
Nyxaris sighed. He says the other belongs to him, too.
Too?
The Duskdrake harrumphed. It seems the audacious little creature has staked two claims.
In you and Blake, you mean?
I’ve told him that the beast is Vorago. That the highblood boy is lost. He will not listen to reason.
I reached a decision quickly. “We don’t have time for this.
” I set my foot between onyx scales and hauled myself up onto Nyxaris’s neck as a cold wind cut across my cheeks.
Neville’s tail whipped back and forth, a clear sign of fluffin stubbornness if there ever was one.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” I muttered to him.
Hold tight. Nyxaris unfurled his wings with a thunderloud crack. And then the tower dropped away beneath us. We speared through the air towards the blazing city. Neville squeaked triumphantly.
“I’m glad you’re so optimistic,” I whispered to the fluffin. “I must say I feel much less certain about our prospects. You know we could all die tonight?”
We cleared the tower, skimming beneath moon-washed clouds.
Steel yourself, little rider, Nyxaris said suddenly. Dragon fire is not for the faint of heart. What you are about to witness may haunt you all the years of your life.
Thanks for the encouragement, I whispered back, furiously. I was already terrified.
I say this not to terrify but to prepare you, he replied grimly. There will be screams on the wind. The scent of burning flesh. You must not let fear stay your hands.
As we neared Veilmar, I caught sight of blocks of rooftops sagging. Hundreds of houses were simply smoking husks of ash. The streets were clogged with people streaming towards the four gates that lay on each side of the city. I prayed many had been able to flee in time.
Then, there he was—the red dragon—slashing a new wound across the bleeding city. He flew over a line of buildings near the waterfront. His jaws parted, and an entire block disintegrated in flames, debris raining down onto the ships docked nearby.
Between the collapsing buildings ran tiny specks. People. The dragon swooped down like a hawk, grasping one between his talons, then hurling them back into his waiting jaws. I stared in horror as the dragon swallowed, a crimson glow lighting the inside of his throat as his feast was roasted alive.
He’s not just burning the city. He’s feeding on it.
Inferni become drunk on blood and ruin, Nyxaris answered. Have no doubt, Vorago is enjoying this.
I felt sick to my stomach. Nyxaris banked, wings beating hard against the air.
Get ready, he warned. Terror is a chain. Do not let it wind itself around you or your city is lost.
My hands shook as I reached for a bolt, setting it in Lunaya’s crossbow.
Then I slid forward, pressing my chest to the broad ridge that rose between Nyxaris’s neck plates.
Hugging it, I leaned the crossbow against it, stock wedged beneath my shoulder.
Neville seemed absolutely unfazed by everything.The little hollow he’d settled in left him curled up near my right hip, the plume of his tail draping across my lower back like a blanket. It was oddly comforting.
“Hold steady,” I whispered.
I already am, Nyxaris rumbled.
I tried to breathe in time with him—inhale on the wing rise, exhale as the wing fell. Vorago—Blake—I didn’t know what the hell to call him—was breathing fire through the streets below. He hadn’t seen us. Yet. I aimed. Exhaled. Squeezed.
The bolt vanished into smoke. At least a hundred feet short.
I loaded, aimed, fired again. And missed. The quarrel spun out uselessly into the dark.
I can’t do this. My voice was filled with panic. I’m hopeless. Take me back. Get Medra.
That is not an option, Nyxaris growled. Would you have me use fire?
No, not yet.
Third bolt. I let the updraft guide me, then released. A spark blossomed as the shaft buried itself under the root of Vorago’s right wing. The Inferni lurched, roaring. His serpentine neck snapped towards us, molten eyes narrowing.
My stomach plunged. “He’s seen us.”
It was only a matter of time, Nyxaris said, sounding much calmer than I felt.
Vorago shot upwards. Nyxaris folded one wing and dove. Flame sheeted overhead, and I screamed, reaching for Neville, who was still planted in place, his tail wound around me.
Get ready to fire again, Nyxaris commanded, as he leveled out over the harbor.
Lever, drag, nock. My shoulders burned. I loosed the bolt just as the Inferni blew fire across my sights. The quarrel flew wide. I shot another. Then another. And another.
Eighth bolt, I whispered.
Feel the wind. Let it guide your hand. Breathe with me.
I tried my best to do as he said. Exhale. Squeeze. The quarrel sailed true. Vorago reeled, spinning through the air, and for a moment I thought he would crash to the ground. I held my breath.
The Inferni leveled, then rushed upwards.
“Oh, Bloodmaiden,” I moaned as the dragon sped towards us. I ducked my head as fire spread from the Inferni’s maw and Nyxaris turned, spinning us out of the way of the flames.
I’ve hit him with two bolts. Shouldn’t he be slowing? You were nearly immobile at this point.
Inferni and Duskdrakes have different physiologies, Nyxaris pointed out. But he is slowing, never fear. Mark him.
He was right.Vorago staggered, his wings hitching for a few slow beats. It’s working, I started to say, relief beginning to flood my body.
Then the great red head jerked up. A roar of fury tore across the sky. The Inferni powered forward with renewed energy.
Nyxaris let out a string of curses in Classical Sangrathan. This was a mistake. Godsbane is not enough.
I bit my lip. Perhaps the mixture sat for too long. Or perhaps Rodriguez prepared the wrong ratio for Inferni.
Whatever the reason, Nyxaris barked, we change tactics. Now. I wound him with flame.Then you fire the emberfern bolts. If that does not work …
Then, what?
It’s us or him. Tell me you understand that.
I swallowed, then reached for an emberfern bolt.
Nyxaris beat hard, black wings shuddering against the scorching wind.
Below us, the once-magnificent city sprawled like spilled coals in a dying hearth.
We flew over a oncegrand square, white marble facades now smoking heaps.
I glimpsed the tops of crescentedged walls: the Avari compound.
The palacelike structure was a jagged ring of rubble.
Had Kage’s family still been inside? There was no time to wonder.
The Inferni soared towards us, flames licking from his jaws.
Hold fast, Nyxaris warned.
We dropped into a dive that left me screaming. The harbor water rushed up. Then Nyxaris ascended suddenly, climbing high, then rolling beneath the Inferni. I felt the Duskdrake’s chest expand and the next thing I knew …
Whoosh. A column of flame spread out. Vorago shrieked in pain, banking wildly.
There. Now! Nyxaris cried.
It was easier said than done when we were flying at such a slant, but I braced my crossbow across his ridge, the world tilting around us. I fired, then moaned: The shaft vanished into the air.
Another, Nyxaris roared.
I fumbled, dropping a bolt into the sea below. I stared down at it in horror.
We cannot go backwards, rider. Only forwards. Try again.
I nodded, reaching for another, quickly fitting it into the bow. I fired. The shaft vanished towards Vorago’s smoking wound—and this time, the dragon staggered.
His head swiveled towards us, red eyes flaring with hatred.
We flee to the east. We’ll lure him away from the city. Nyxaris banked towards the countryside. In his wake, Vorago followed, roaring with a vengeance.
The wind tore at my face. Neville pressed against me tighter.
I clenched the next bolt, the black feathers trembling between my fingers.
“Blake,” I whispered as the Inferni flew behind us.
“If there’s anything left of you in there, please find it now.
Come back to us. Please. Medra needs you.
” I suddenly imagined a conclusion in which the Inferni’s body plummeted to the ground, covered in Nyxaris’s flames.
I glanced back. The Inferni’s jaws were opening for another bout of flames.
Nyxaris wheeled, spinning us back through the air. Now, he commanded.
I aimed, praying to the Bloodmaiden with all I had.
I squeezed. The emberslick bolt flew through the air, striking just beneath the red dragon’s left eye ridge.
Vorago shrieked in rage, the earsplit-ting sound scraping my nerves raw.
Before I could equip another bolt, Neville scrambled over my hip and up Nyxaris’s spine.
He planted his tiny paws between two plates, claws digging in effort-lessly, and lifted his head high to the night.
What left his throat was not a bark or a yelp—but a song.
A melody, soft as a lullaby, drifted out onto the wind.
Vorago faltered. His wings beat more slowly. His head swung towards us, but the blazing red eyes seemed dimmed. A moment ago, they’d been coals of hatred. Now I sensed bewilderment there. Even pain.
Hold, I whispered, putting my hand against Nyxaris’s neck as I felt him begin to swell for another strategic blast. Wait. Let’s see what happens.
Neville sang on, his tail streaming behind him like a banner.The lullaby slipped through the air. I could almost imagine it, wrapping the Inferni in threads of delicate sound.Vorago shuddered. Then the Inferni turned, banking away from the city and heading out towards the sea.
“He’s retreating.” My voice cracked. Neville had stopped singing. Now I reached for the fluffin, squeezing him until he squeaked. “Neville, you ridiculous, amazing little creature. How did you do that?”
The fluffin gave a soft yip, then flopped back against my chest, panting hard.
Healing magic. Nyxaris’s voice quivered with stunned relief.
I had forgotten— His words cut off. I felt him freeze beneath me.
Then he turned, banking back towards the city, spinning to face the three islands that bordered the city.
Far above the Black Keep, a shape tore free of the clouds.
A second Inferni, red as blood, but with wings marbled with black veins.
Nyxaris growled. Viktor.
Dread slid down my spine as the dragon angled straight towards us. I looked down at the few bolts I had left. It was time for round two.