59. Thyra #2
Much farther away, two figures fight on the mountain ridge, Nara’s silhouette clear beside them.
I home in on the crack of whips up there, spiraling lashes dragging Antony down each time he darts into the air. Fire flares as Ember Fae burn the air around him.
Stellen’s frost finally blasts a gap in the attack, and he and Nara shoot through the opening to race down the mountainside.
His voice reaches me. “Hold on, Thyra. We’re coming for you.”
A moment later, the smack of Antony’s fist reaches my ears, steel on flesh as he, too, breaks clear of his attackers and shoots up into the air. As fast as he can fly, I’m certain it will take him a minute to reach me.
Then comes the sound of a deeply indrawn breath behind me, a fresh sizzle of lava, and a sudden thumping heartbeat so strong in my hearing, I could be consumed by the powerful beats.
Maxim. He must be awake.
I don’t have time to look back.
Boaz’s eyes widen, a sharp breath drawing into his chest as he lurches toward me, the collar aimed for my throat.
The move I was waiting for.
I grab the lash wrapped around my right arm, taking hold of it in an instant, the barbs failing to break the skin of my blade arm, and yank upward with all my strength, wrenching the serpent bodily toward me.
At the same time, I use the small slack in that rope to throw myself left, lifting my free leg and kicking hard into Boaz’s stomach.
He stumbles, reflexively bending forward, and I’m ready to strike again, every muscle in my body tensed to keep me stable and stop me from ripping open my left arm and leg.
My heel collides with Boaz’s jaw, a merciless hit.
Crack.
His bone breaks and blood gushes from his mouth as he lurches backward, the collar and pole knocked from his hand.
The other men are backing away, rushing across the sand, leaping onto their serpents and taking flight. The serpents to whom I’m tied are suddenly wild-eyed and wrenching away from me, dangerously close to tearing my limbs apart.
With a scream, I prepare to wrap my hand around the rope attached to my left arm, bracing for the barbs that will hook into my palm.
Before I can act, a paralyzing chill slides around me, startling after the heat.
A shadow rises at my back.
Darkness engulfs me, spreading across the ground.
Boaz scrambles back through the sand, his face deathly pale, a shout on his lips a moment before a giant talon cuts the air on my left, slicing through both ropes and impaling Boaz’s body, ripping through his chest before a second talon slashes through the rope on my right.
I fall forward onto the sand while the serpents and men scatter.
I look back.
And up.
Into the glowing eyes of a black dragon.
A scream rises to my throat.
It can’t be…
The black beast’s head dominates my view as he rears up over me.
I catch a flash of fading light. Golden runes…the same runes Maxim’s serpent was wearing…burning brightly across the dragon’s enormous left side and down his thrashing tail.
Each rune turns to dust, sloughing off the dragon’s body, along with hundreds of golden serpent scales.
The scales splash into the lava around the dragon’s legs, where he stands, seemingly unconcerned by the fire and heat, his front talons now digging into the sand on either side of me.
I can’t breathe.
It’s impossible to think straight as the black beast lowers his head to me, his voice rumbling through his body. “I have bathed in your blood, Thyra. For this gift, I thank you. Between your blood and Maxim’s, you have freed me from the bind that forced me into the form of a lowly serpent.”
This beast was…Maxim’s serpent?
Oh. Fuck.
The dragon narrows his eyes at me, his lips drawing back from his sharp teeth, his breath casting shadows across me as he whispers, “I’m afraid you may regret freeing me.”
Mentally screaming at myself to move, I throw myself backward, the barbed and blood-soaked ropes dragging in the sand at my sides.
I need my armor, the silver threads now flying toward me despite the heat.
I need Stellen and Antony, their power rushing at my back, only seconds away from reaching me.
I need Maxim, but his unmoving form floats within the pool of lava, dangerously close to being crushed by the dragon’s hind paws.
A cry rises to my lips, a scream of rage and fear that is silenced when the black dragon whispers again.
This time, he speaks in a language I don’t understand.
Shadows form in the air with every word he utters, the first shadow filling my throat and choking me.
The second shadow wraps around my blade arm.
The Dragonstone Blade’s energy flares more brightly than it ever has before.
I can’t move or fight back. I struggle to breathe as the three heart threads shoot from my chest. Icy blue, crimson red, and fiery amber. My connections with Stellen, Antony, and Maxim.
At my back, a single black thread rises, writhing at the corner of my vision, dancing in the growing shadows.
With another whispered word, the dragon slices his talon through the threads extending from my heart.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
My heart tears apart and a hollow forms in my mind.
The black thread at my back thickens, sucking the light from the air.
Cold talons close around my chest, and the dragon’s final whisper engulfs me in darkness. “We’ve waited long enough for you, Thyra. It’s time to come home.”