Windburn (The Elemental Series #4)(38)
The Bastard snorted. “All that means is she will be killed. Or banished, which is the same thing.”
“How do you know so much about elementals?” Cactus beat me to the question on the tip of my tongue.
Peta shook her head, but The Bastard answered. “Elementals were what the humans thought were the Grecian gods. They set themselves up to rule. They were petty and cruel and thought nothing of manipulating people.”
My jaw dropped, I’ll admit it. “That can’t be.”
“I was there, Elemental. I saw it with my own eyes and lived through it.” His wings stilled as we coasted high above the treetops and then over the ocean. “Your kind . . . they have done far more harm than good to this world because of their pride.”
His words shouldn’t have stunned me, yet they did. I wanted to believe my people weren’t the problem. That it was the humans who’d caused all the destruction of the earth and the elements . . . but maybe if we’d shown them the way. If we’d been a part of their world instead of separating them, things would be different. Cactus slipped an arm around my waist. “He’s wrong.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think he is, Cactus. Where would we be if we had helped the humans? If we’d shown them how to care for the elements and our world?”
He sucked in a sharp breath. “That would mean exposing ourselves to them.”
I said nothing more, feeling the weight of The Bastard’s words on my soul. He was right.
The elementals had been selfish. They had caused harm to the world, and now they acted as though it was not their place to fix anything.
Hours passed, the day came, the sun rose and waned, and as the west lit up with the final rays of the day, we reached the Namib Sea.
The sand dunes reared out of the desert into the sea, the triangular dunes mimicking that of a dragon’s head in an eerie replica.
Below me, The Bastard shivered. “I smell a dragon. This does not bode well. Breeding season is on us and it makes them moodier than usual.”
Cactus twisted around. “I don’t see any dragons. And even I couldn’t miss that.”
A laugh burst out of The Bastard. “How many dragons have you dealt with, boy?”
My shoulders twitched as though we had eyes on us. I slowly turned my head, searching the skies around us. If I were a dragon, and so large as to be seen from miles away, I would not swoop in from the side or behind my prey. I tipped my head back and stared into the sky above us.
The body of a dragon swept downward, silent on its leathery wings, its mouth open in a soundless roar. “Above us!”
The Bastard dropped, tucking his wings tightly as he spiraled to one side. The dragon whooshed past, sending out a wave of air in its wake.
“I cannot avoid her in the air. We have to land,” The Bastard hollered.
He didn’t waste any more time or words, but barreled straight toward the closest dune. We hit the ground hard enough that the three of us were bucked off and into the loose sand. I scrambled to my feet, as did Peta and Cactus. From above, the dragon roared and spat a straight blast of fire at us. Cactus lifted his hands and deflected it before it could do any damage.
The sound of feet running on the sand spun me around. The Bastard pranced, then reared up as a whip curled around his neck right behind his jaw. I rushed forward, swung my spear in a wide arc and cut through the leather. There was an “oomph” on the other end of the line and the sound of someone hitting the sand.
A flash of white fur and Peta put herself between whoever wielded the whip and me, blocking my view of them.
The Bastard shook his head, his long mane flipping in the air. “Damn Trackers, always so touchy about every little thing. I didn’t mean to step on you.”
“Fuck you, horse!” someone yelled back from what seemed like a far greater distance than she should have been. Wait . . .Tracker . . . then we’d found her.
Peta stayed where she was, crouched with her belly pressed into the sand, ready to leap on whoever was attacking. I stepped beside her and saw why I’d not been able to see the Tracker sooner. She had tumbled down the edge of the sand dune into a shallow valley perhaps thirty feet in depth. I spun my spear and buried the haft into the sand.
The Tracker stood and stared up at us, covered in sand, her eyes flashing with anger visible even at a distance. Her hair was cut short, barely brushing the edges of her shoulders; it was the color of obsidian. Her eyes narrowed. “You want to fight? Then get your ass down here and we’ll fight, witch.”
I did not correct her as to my designation. “Tracker, I want only to talk to you. I’d like to employ your services.”
“That’s more than talking then, isn’t it?”
Above us the dragon roared. I flattened myself to the sand out of instinct. Claw tips raked either side of me, missing me by mere inches. Peta screamed, and I rolled in time to see her scooped into the air. From my knees I snapped my arm back and threw my spear with everything I had. The blade buried into the dragon’s leg, right above the claw that held Peta in a death grip.
The red dragon roared and its claw opened. Peta fell, but like any self-respecting cat, landed on her feet. My spear fell beside her, blade in the sand.
I ran to her side and crouched so I could put a hand on her back. My familiar’s bond with me was humming with energy so intense it felt as though she would fly away at the drop of a leaf. She shifted into her housecat form and I lifted her to my shoulder.