Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(112)

If it was possible to be relieved, grateful, and terrified at the same time, Lyss was there. Grabbing up her knife, she scrabbled crablike across the ledge, scooped up her sword, and made a run for the downhill trail. Before she’d gone more than a few paces, the dragon was ahead of her, driving her back with torrents of flame.

Lyss threw her knife, aiming for the creature’s eyes, but it glanced off its armored head. She dove to the side, rolling into a small ravine, where she hoped the underbrush would hide her from view. But the dragon’s breath set the foliage aflame, flushing her from her hiding place. Hugging the cliff face, she launched herself downhill, hoping to put enough distance between them that she could find another hiding place.

But it was foolish to think that a human on foot could escape a dragon in the air. It landed in the trail ahead of her, spreading its wings to block the way.

When it was clear she wasn’t going anywhere, Lyss put her back to a rock face and waited, sword in hand, for death.





45


A NEW ALLIANCE


The drama unfolded below them on the ledge—first a loud, hand-waving argument, then a clinch.

They are mating, Cas suggested. That’s how it begins—with fighting. Let them finish.

“Mating doesn’t begin with fighting,” Jenna said. “Anyway, when did you get to be an expert on mating?”

Not human. Have instinct.

“Humans have instinct, too.”

Maybe. Too much thinking, gets in way.

Right, Jenna thought. Too much thinking.

After months of communicating only with each other, they were beginning to share vocabulary, and Jenna was adopting Cas’s thrifty speech.

“Can we go lower? Without hitting the mountain, I mean?”

With an irritated snort, Cas circled lower, losing altitude gradually.

Ordinarily, that maneuver would have been child’s play for the young dragon, but the flight through the stormwall had badly damaged one of his wings, making straight flight difficult, fine aerobatics all but impossible. Gradually, he was growing stronger. Jenna hoped that by the time they came up with a plan, they would be able to execute it.

In order to make a plan, they needed more information. Hence their current mission—looking for one of the empress’s soldiers they could question.

As they closed in on the couple, Jenna could make out more of the conversation. The male wanted to mate. The female most definitely did not. Jenna caught the words princess and empress and treason.

Were there princesses on the Desert Coast as well as empresses?

The female didn’t look like a princess, from Jenna’s limited experience. Both parties were dressed in the garb of the empress’s soldiers, though neither had the smudgy glow she’d seen before.

All at once, the male charged at the female, knocking her backward. Pinning her to the ground, he began tearing at her clothing.

See? Mating.

“No,” Jenna said. “This is not how humans mate. This is wrong.”

The female sent the male flying and scooped up her knife. She managed to draw blood before the male had her down again. Then he had something in his hand—something that glittered in the moonlight. Her knife.

“Cas. Stop them. Hurry.”

The dragon folded his wings and plummeted earthward. Jenna knew from experience how that looked from below. They’d been flying so high, they were all but invisible to human eyes, especially at night. Now they descended so fast that they would be on their prey before the male and female knew what hit them.

Jenna scented blood as the dragon’s claws sank into the male’s back. He screeched, kicked, and flailed while Cas struggled to lift him into the air. Jenna could feel the dragon’s heart pounding against her chest, feel his blazing heat beneath the scales.

The female stared up at them, eyes wide, blood spattered across her face.

Jenna?

“Kill the male. Catch the female.”

With one final effort, Cas swooped off the mountain and let his cargo go. With that weight gone, they rocketed skyward.

By now, the female had retrieved her sword and was making a run for it. Cas circled around and drove her back with torrents of flame. She threw her knife, dove, rolled, scrambled, then, finally, made her stand like a warrior, feet slightly apart, sword at the ready.

Cas landed heavily on the ledge a short distance away, folding his wings as best he could. He swung his head toward the female—the girl—breathing in her scent. She raised her sword in warning.

Jenna slid to the ground, into the shelter of Cas’s wing. Then stepped out from behind it so that she could get a better look at their captive.

The empress’s warrior stared at Jenna as if she’d emerged from the dragon’s bunghole. The girl’s hair was the color of winter-seared wheat. It had been braided, but now was mostly hanging free around her battered face. She was tall, muscular, and fierce. Her curved blade was the kind carried by the empress’s bloodsworn.

“Drop the sword,” Jenna said in Common.

The soldier flinched, as if she hadn’t expected human speech. She swiped blood from her face with her sleeve, glanced to either side as if looking for options, then finally let her sword fall to the ground at her feet. Chin up and defiant, she met Jenna’s eyes.

There was something familiar about her that raised gooseflesh on the back of Jenna’s neck. A fist of memory squeezed her heart and drove the air from her lungs.