Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
“Fuck.” I cover my mouth with my hands. The enemy will perish but so will the city and its remaining innocents.
I can just make out Romeria’s screams of “No!” as Lyndel’s great wall erupts in fire and bodies topple over it, falling to the ground.
Caindra swerves back around. The enemy soldiers who remain scramble to reload those ballistae not damaged by the ruthless dragon fire.
“She is a mother seeking revenge. There will be nothing left of the city or its people by the time she is done.” Abarrane’s voice is hollow as she echoes my fears.
Caindra’s giant maw opens again and another punishing blast sails out.
But this time it ricochets off the city wall, forcing the beast to bank hard to avoid her own flames. From between her claws, a glint of silver flashes. Romeria is channeling, protecting the city with a shield.
I’m momentarily struck by awe. Gesine once warned me that Romeria’s strength will be greater than anything I have ever witnessed. I’m seeing the truth of that unfold before my very eyes.
Her interference seems to quell Caindra’s urge for revenge. The dragon steers away from Lyndel, the sun glinting off her indigo scales as she speeds toward us, joining the other two dragons.
We run to Romeria and Jarek, staggering as they attempt to gain their footing.
“Are you harmed?” I ask, panicked.
“Define ‘harmed.’” Jarek studies the singed ends of his braids.
I dismiss him, chasing after Romeria as she sprints to Xiaric. I grab hold of her wrist, stalling her to check for burns. “That was reckless. Brave, but fucking reckless.” Anger seethes through me despite my relief that she seems well.
“I couldn’t let all those people burn!” She adds sheepishly, “But I didn’t expect the fire to bounce back like that.”
Xiaric bends his long neck to sniff at the barbed bolt anchored firmly through his wing.
“They hit that exact spot that immobilizes wyverns, according to Radomir.” Was it by fluke or skill? Since when do beasts have the latter?
“Your Highness!” a soldier shouts.
Both Romeria and I turn.
He points to a body lying near Xiaric’s open claw. It’s one of the enemy beast soldiers. The dragon must have snatched it off the wall before he was hit.
“Is it alive?” I ask.
The soldier pokes its arm with his sword, scoring its skin. “It doesn’t appear to be.”
“Secure it, anyway.” I note the crimson blood that seeps from the wound. That is odd. Nulling creatures bleed black, not red.
“Forget that thing.” Romeria worries her lip in thought. “How do we get that bolt out of his wing so I can heal him?”
“Without him killing us? He’s a wounded animal. They all respond the same.” Jarek looks doubtful.
“Give me a spark.” If there is one thing I’ve tested, it’s how hot my fire burns.
In a split second, one dances on the tip of Romeria’s finger.
Collecting it, I channel my affinity, allowing the flame to meld into the metal until it glows orange. Within seconds, the solid structure disintegrates and the top half of the bolt topples off, rolling to the ground.
“Now the hard part.” With a half-dozen warnings and assurances, Jarek and I ease in under his wing.
“One … two …” Jarek counts, and together we yank out the bottom half of the bolt.
Xiaric responds with a pained screech, but Romeria is there, her eyes glowing silver. He stretches out on his belly, allowing her close access to his injury.
“I need to reorganize our position given this new development …” My words fade. She’s not even listening to me anymore.
With a smile, I leave her to her task.
“They came in the night, closer to dawn than dusk.” The squire stands before a line of us within the shelter of the newly erected tent, shaking, his face smeared by soot and blood. He was one of the few to escape Lyndel before it was completely overrun. He raced for the rift on foot. “I do not know how they got in. One minute they were not there, and the next they were … everywhere.”
“How many?” Abarrane demands to know.
He shrugs. “Hundreds, thousands. More.”
I curse. “They must have been in the mountains, waiting.” There were too many of them to be anywhere else.
“There is a small hidden cave entrance southwest of the city. We used it often. It is close enough to move in after dark,” Radomir confirms. “And they could have evaded notice, given the few remaining eyes left in Lyndel were facing the opposite direction.”
“But this all suggests that beasts from the Nulling are capable of, what … organizing?” A pale-faced Lord Telor leans on a makeshift crutch. When he heard his city was under attack, he heaved himself out of his cot and demanded Elisaf bring his horse.
“These are not simple Nulling beasts.” I point to the corpse lying in the middle of our tent. We peeled off the armor to uncover a creature with yellow fangs and mottled flesh the color of ash, its body honed with muscle, its claws sharp enough to tear out throats. Standing on its feet, it would tower over any of us. “They are an army, and I am certain Malachi brought them here.” There is no other explanation.