Flamecaster (Shattered Realms #1)(119)

“I’m Jenna,” she said, as if it wouldn’t eat her once they were introduced.

She could feel the push of the dragon’s mind, as if it were seeking an opening that it knew was there. Finally, something came through clearly. It was more an image in her mind than a word.

Jenna.

“That’s right!” she said. “You’re just a lytling, aren’t you?” she murmured, scratching behind its horns. It nudged her like a cat, wanting more, but a dragon is not a cat. She ended up flat on her back, with the dragon looking down at her, all shamefaced, its golden eyes wide with alarm.

Jenna hurt.

“You don’t know your own strength, do you?” she said, forcing a smile to reassure it. She managed to sit up, resisting the temptation to close her eyes and let the rain fall on her face. She was shaking, teeth chattering, fighting off waves of dizziness.

Help?

At first, she thought he was asking for help, but then she realized that it was offering help.

“I wish you could help,” she said, blotting at her eyes. “I dropped my berries and I can’t find them.” She knew she sounded like a loon, but she couldn’t seem to form a sentence that made sense.

Berries? Flamecaster said eagerly. Want food?

Jenna laughed, stroking the dragon’s head. She looked down at her own arms. Her scales were fading now that the fire was out, and her hands were losing their clawlike appearance. It was as if she armored up only when she needed that protection.

All right, then, she thought. Tally up another gift, you bloodthirsty bastards.

First it was fire, and now ice. She was freezing in the wind and sleet, clad only in her thin silk gown. Flamecaster’s body burned with a hot, dry heat that was just what she craved. Jenna pressed herself against him in an effort to warm herself. She could hear his heart beating, and hers began to beat in time.

The dragon shifted, sliding his body under her, gripping her arm and rolling a little so that she ended up lying on top of him, just forward of where the spines began, her face pressed against his muscled neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tightened her knees around his body. It was like hugging a wood-burning stove, only more intimate, somehow.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “That’s much warmer. It really—”

Now fly.

Claws rattled against stone as Flamecaster charged forward and launched from the tower with Jenna clinging to his back.

Jenna screamed, and kept on screaming, her voice mingling with that of the dragon. At first it was all terror, but soon became a cry of ferocious joy. They soared out over the castle close. The city beneath them was as small as a child’s toy village left out in the rain, with poufs of smoke from many chimneys.

Squinting her eyes against the rain, she looked back at the ruined tower, which resembled a charred and broken tooth. Take that, you gutter-swiving, murderous, black-hearted devil. She tightened her knees against the dragon’s sides and whooped.

So this is what heaven is like, she thought. Who knew?

They were over the harbor now. Below, she saw a ship with broken masts and a hole in the side. It looked tiny from so high above. Could that be the emissary’s ship? Though badly damaged, it was still afloat.

Chains and stinging collars. Dark, stinking hole. Enemies.

“Yes,” Jenna whispered, pressing her cheek against Flamecaster’s neck. “Enemies.”

They were some distance east of the river when they were buffeted by a shock wave and an earsplitting series of booms that sent Flamecaster spinning sideways, flapping madly until he could regain his balance. Jenna looked back toward the city and saw that the ship had exploded, leaving chunks of burning debris floating in the water and little else.

Adam Wolf had come through. If the emissary and all his friends hadn’t burned to death, she hoped that they had returned to their ship in time to blow up with it.

Jenna thrust her face into the rain and wind and screamed with a savagery she’d never tapped before. That was when she realized that they were losing altitude, despite the dragon’s efforts to keep them aloft. Jenna wasn’t heavy, but she was likely too much weight for a young dragon to carry. Especially one that was injured.

She leaned down to where she thought his ear might be, and said, “Flamecaster. Find a place to land. I don’t want us to fall.” He beat his wings, achieving a shallow glide. Flying east.

She fell asleep, and dreamed of Adam Wolf. Stay safe.

She didn’t know how much later it was when they landed. She jolted awake as they bounced, then bounced again, and came to a sliding stop.

They were on a beach. The rain had stopped, but the sand was still pockmarked from the recent storm. A few stars had shaken off the clouds and glimmered overhead. To the west, the moon was rising, gilding a path on the breast of the ocean.

Jenna had never seen the sea. She blinked, scraping her wet and bloody hair out of her eyes, and drank it in, her heart full to bursting. When she finally looked down at herself, the scales had disappeared. She hurt all over, especially her head. She was hungry and ferociously tired, but she was alive.

Flamecaster was obviously exhausted, too. He lay, head on his forelegs, already sound asleep. Jenna crawled into the warm shelter of the dragon’s body and closed her eyes again.





42


BACK AT THE CASTLE


Ash knew it wouldn’t be easy to convince Lila to stay behind while he returned to the castle to look for Strangward. He sidestepped the issue by avoiding the conversation altogether. He used the rope ladder at the bow end of the ship to descend to the wharf. He spoke briefly with Marc, telling him that he’d found no survivors on board, and reminded him to keep people away from the ship until the fires burned out.