“Would you have made Lowell or Quincy stay back if it was them?” Meira hooked her thumbs around the straps of her pack. She stepped over a decaying log, the pitter-patter of tiny paws scurrying through it already behind her as she sped up her steps. Her anger was giving way to something else. Emotions that she didn’t want to confront, and doubted Bram did either, made her chest tight with worry.

  He kept her pace, surpassed her even, to hold aside the length of a thin stretching branch that crossed their path. “Of course, I wouldn’t let the health of one rider put the whole legion at risk. This isn’t special treatment, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

  “Don’t lie.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Bram—”

  “M. I don’t think we’re going to agree on this.” He caught Meira’s eye. “Perhaps not ever.”

  That all depends on if you’re always going to be a controlling fuck or not. But instead of saying that she answered with, “Likely not.”

  The city lights were starting to shine where the trees began to thin. It was an easy way to end the conversation. She didn’t want any more of her relationship, or lack thereof, to be broadcasted to any more of their legion. It was clear they were sick of it too if Lowell’s hasty exit meant anything.

  The Deadwoods came to a sudden and clear end, giving way to overgrown yards and a few worse-for-wear houses. Past those there was a road. Movement shifted in the dark space that separated the woods and the homes. Lowell drifted forward, eyes darting between us.

  “Follow and stay in the shadows. This isn’t meant to be a publicly known mission.” Bram started between two of the homes, pulling his hood up over his blond hair.

  On the outskirts of the city, it was still relatively quiet. Even once they’d made it onto the main road that led them farther and into a slightly more populated area, Meira could still pick up the sound of the wind through the trees, bugs chirping, and the occasional call of an owl. Distantly, the true call of Olden came. Though winter was well upon them, carriages still carried people out and about before an echo of laughter drifted down the street. Lampposts were lit, illuminating the cobblestone road.

  The three scale riders drifted from shadow to shadow, moving from the decaying edges of the city toward a row of well-kept manors, each one larger than the last. Meira couldn’t see any definitive line between where the crumbling homes ended and these large, showy houses started but it existed nonetheless. In one step she’d crossed some threshold into the lives of the wealthy. She wondered what the people who lived in these four-story manors with their iron gates and matching shutters thought when they looked out the window and saw the destitution so close. Did any of them care?

  Once she’d been in a simple home somewhere between the two sides of poverty and wealth, but that home was many years gone, hardly even a memory she could recall at this point. Time had made that long-ago place more like a dream than something that had ever been real. Mount Ridmond was her home now. Her place was amongst the scale riders who snuck down darkened streets.

  Bram looked at every house they passed, stopping once they’d come to the end of the road. Built on top of a hill, the Warlord Vigor Brendal’s mansion looked down upon the city. Certainly, from this vantage point, he would notice the unkempt homes.

  The mansion stood like a ghost against the night that surrounded it. Each brick that had built all five stories of it was painted a ghastly gray color. The shutters were a navy that matched the door. From their stance on the street, she caught the gleam of the gold door knob and knocker. Curtains were drawn over the windows, but light still trickled through and smoke billowed from the chimney.

  So this was the home of the warlord’s brat. She couldn’t help but glare at it. The riches of a warlord so clearly flaunted over his failing territory. It was no wonder he was sending his son after the great merchant’s death. Though he might be able to solve his own problems if he didn’t horde every coin and diamond for himself.

  Bram pushed through the unlocked gate. It opened soundlessly. A paved path branched from the road and led them up to the wide staircase that took them to the navy door. The gold knob and knocker were so well polished that Meira was able to see bits of her reflection in them. She watched the disdain mirrored in her green eyes until Bram fisted the knocker and let it bang against the wood.

  Shifting on her feet, she brushed against Lowell who stood next to her with his arms crossed over his broad chest staring straight ahead. The three of them waited without a word as the quiet stretched into several minutes and no one came to answer the door. Lowell exhaled and took a step back to look up at the back glow of the curtained windows. The gentle flicker of lantern light didn’t give way to the silhouetted shape of the home’s inhabitants.

  “Is anybody even here?” Lowell whispered.

  “This is the right house.” Bram glanced up then back at the street. He repeated, “Yes, this is where we are supposed to be.”

  “Knock again,” Meira urged.

  Taking hold of the metal again, Bram pounded against the door. This time the noise echoed back louder, giving her the impression that the home itself was empty. He dropped the knocker and stepped back. Before he’d even lowered his hand to his side the door cracked open an inch as though it had never fully been latched shut in the first place.

  “Hello?” Bram called through the door, poking it open further with the tip of his finger. “Warlord Vigor? Valen?”

  No one answered him.

  9

  Remis

  Some time ago, Remis had lost track of the hours and both Percy and Merritt had gone silent. A nervous fluttering fear had grabbed a hold of them the first time they’d sworn they’d seen flapping wings in the distant sky. The looming idea of death had subsequently stolen whatever words they had left to speak.

  Blisters were forming on the back of his ankles and each small toe. He cursed his new boots and contemplated taking them off entirely. Though that might be just as terrible. What if he stepped on a snake? Or if the highwaymen, whom they’d not seen any more of, reappeared and took the shoes right out of his hands? It was not worth the risk. So he gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the pain.

  Ahead of them, the dirt road was widening, a sign that he took to mean they were getting closer to Olden. When they finally got there, he was sure he could talk his way into getting them a room for the night and a decent meal for less than the amount he had left in his pocket.

  The rhythm of their steps became the music which carried them forth through the woods. Only the occasional rustle of wildlife became the harmony to their song. Remis could hardly manage to even glance at his friends. He was not worth what his friends were willing to give and if he’d been in their shoes, he was certain he’d already be back at home by now with a bottle of liquor and a girl on his arm. He’d always been the lesser man when it came to their trio.

  Percy stopped, clutching his book to his chest. Merritt and Remis stopped a step later. “What is that?” Percy asked.

  Remis followed his friend's gaze, goosebumps rising all along his shoulders and down his spine. The feel of his sword against his hip was no comfort as his imagination went wild. Up his attention rose to the treetops and past them into the sky. Stars winked back at him. Branches waved in the soft swell of the wind.

  “What is what?” Merritt asked, also searching the sky for whatever Percy was staring so intently at.

  Then they saw it as a wave of stars blinked out and a shape cut through the sky. If they hadn’t been staring so intently, they never would have been able to see it. Even the being that blotted out the stars was speckled with white in such a way that a passing glance would have never seen the difference between it and the night sky.

  Not a single muscle in his body twitched as every part of him became paralyzed with fear. Even the wind died down and the trees around them stilled. Whatever wildlife they’d once heard was silent as the predator circled them.

  It was significantly larger than he’d expected it to be. Even from a distance it looked as though the dragonis could swoop down and swallow him whole. In stories, the animals were double the size of a grown man. Not this dragonis, this one was likely four times, no, five times bigger.

  Remis swore that he’d seen a dragonis before but had never seen one quite so large, though they’d always been much farther away. The monsters that attacked the city on occasion were spindly little things with long skinny necks, reptilian eyes, and thin bat-like wings.

  “Dragonis,” Percy wheezed out the word. “What do we do?”

  “Standing here waiting like a readied meal is not an option,” Remis started, “Run? The city can’t be too far ahead. If we get close enough, the watch should spot us and the dragonis should it come down to attack.”

  “Run,” Merritt quickly agreed.

  They shared only one last look before the men took off toward Olden. Dust rose around their stomping boots. Their surroundings became no more than a blur of images as the brush and trees reached out toward them trying to snag their clothes and slow them down. Pulling away from the slap of spindly twigs, they bumped against each other, eyes always looking up.

  The dark spot that revealed the dragonis was never lost to them as the animal flew in steady arching circles, never drifting far enough to ease the worry nipping at their heels. Remis’ blisters were bleeding now, dampening his socks and pulsing in pain. It was easier to ignore their demanding aching with the rush of adrenaline that screamed at him to survive.

  Live. Live. Live. His body chanted.

  The Deadwoods were already thinning, the lights of the city calling them to hope, like beacons of safety. They’d taken the most direct path, or so Remis hoped with his memory of the map and the most traveled road. Even if they didn’t expect anyone to be sprinting into the city, especially on foot, someone had to be waiting for them. No respectable warlord would leave his city without a patrol watching for the dragonis at all hours of the season. It was that certainty that fueled them as they barreled toward Olden.

  Air pillaged his lungs. Sweat collected underneath his cloak, the hood blown back from his face in their haste. The sword slapped against his thigh, useless for anything other than show at this point.

  “Nearly there,” he gritted out through his teeth. He pushed himself harder, thankful for the training that allowed him the endurance. Percy was slowing though, his cheeks a brilliant shade of red, and his breaths a noisy reminder that he was not as well versed in anything this physical.

  Merritt grabbed Percy’s arm, dragging him along. “Percy, drop the damn book, it's heavy and slowing you down.”

  “If I’m,” Percy sucked in a breath, “to die,” he breathed the words out, “then I’ll do so with my,” he wheezed, “book.” His friend slowed further.

  Damn it. Percy was stubborn even in the face of death.

  “Stop being foolish,” Remis wanted to yell but kept his voice low for fear of drawing the dragonis lower. “We have to get to the city before that thing eats us—” He lost his words as he looked up, frantically searching to find the dragonis above them, but the animal that had blocked out the sky was gone, and only the stars shone down, unaware of the startling terror shooting through the men below them. “It’s gone? Where did it go? Can you see it?”

  Their steps slowed a fraction as they craned their necks to view between the stretch of branches.

  “I don’t see it.” Merritt stopped, turning in a circle as Remis and Percy settled at his sides. Percy doubled over gasping for air and holding his side. “Maybe it found something better to eat than us?”

  A tingling sensation raced across Remis’ skin before a tremble traveled down his spine and into his knees. He wiped his sweaty palms against his shirt, heart resounding in his ears.

  No. He swallowed. Something watched them. He could feel its gaze on him, could sense the warning of it in the pulses of magic that drifted up from the earth and into his very soul. They weren’t alone.

  “We need to keep moving. I don’t think it’s gone.” Remis rounded the group and put a hand on Percy’s back. “We need to run aga—”

  Something cracked like lightning behind them. A torrent of branches began to break and rain down upon them as something crashed through the treetops. Remis caught the wicked glint of talons, the stretch of leathery wings, and glowing yellow eyes as the dragonis swooped above them, thundering out an echoing roar.

  “RUN NOW!” Remis yelled against the might of its cry. Spittle rained down on them, a lashing of hot wet droplets and a torrent of wind as its body soared near enough to ruffle their hair.

  Percy nearly tumbled over his own feet as Remis shoved him forward, only righting himself as Merritt took hold of his arm once more. Remis saw the dragonis in fleeting glances. He funneled all of his strength into moving as fast as he could go while making sure they didn’t lose Percy, who held onto his book with white knuckles.

  The creature disappeared into the night, breaking through the canopy. More bits of bark and broken branches cascaded down around them, making the already beaten path much worse. Merritt stumbled once, grunted, and pulled Percy forward while Remis pushed him from the back. They’d all make it to the nearing city's edge together or they simply wouldn’t make it all.

  Those looming lights were a fraction closer, just a tad bit brighter and larger than they were moments before. Safety was a mile away, taunting them.

  Another rumbling cry from the dragonis came from their right. Remis snapped his head to the side searching over the trees. Wind pulsed with the pump of the animal’s wings as it hovered above the woods. Smoke puffed from its nostrils and when it opened its mouth to reveal razor-sharp teeth, Remis caught sight of an orange light building in its throat. He’d hardly opened his mouth to warn his friends before a terrible heat was upon them.

  Remis hissed and threw all his weight into his friends, launching them forward. Fire licked at his back. Despite the way his body curved forward, arching away, he could feel it scorching his skin. He screamed through tightly clenched teeth. When the heat faded, flames ate away at his cloak and he ripped at the buttons that secured it to his shoulders and flung the fabric off of him.

  The dragon was playing with them, never getting quite close enough to snatch them up, but near enough to ignite their fear. He wondered, fleetingly, if the rush of adrenaline and terror somehow would make their bodies that much tastier when the dragonis finally decided to end the game.

  Olden was waiting for them at the end of the road. They could see their goal clearly now as the last of the trees began to fade away at their sides.

  We’re going to make it. We’re here.

  They were all yelling now, screaming into the night, and waving frantically to warn the watch of what was coming, of what terrible beast was on their tail. Remis’ gaze bounced along the edge of the city. A flame cannon was poised next to the road aimlessly pointed toward the sky. Beyond that were a few dilapidated buildings and the start of the cobblestone roads. Not a single man or woman came to their call. Not even the ghosts or shadows stirred where the guard ought to be.

  There were no watchmen at the city's edge. No person to man the gun. No one to save them.

  Shit, Remis thought as the clouds parted and moonlight poured down on them.

  The dragonis’ shadow darkened their flailing forms. It grew as they ran the last few yards until they could feel the monster at their backs once more. There was nothing else to protect Remis if the animal would so choose to send its flames upon them again.

  He told himself not to, scolded himself for even having the desperate want in the back of his head, but Remis looked over his shoulder. The long neck of the beast was stretched, reaching toward them, its eyes wide and watching with their sickening gold depths. It blinked with its inner eyelid and then again with the outer. The scent of smoke on its breath made the air smell bitter like singed hair. Two arms and two legs in total, each ending in inches of sharp claws. The nails clicked against each other as its hand-like appendage contracted and opened in anticipation. Its ashy scales rippled as it locked eyes with Remis. He surged forward, pushing Percy with renewed determination.

  Pain tore through Remis' shoulder, a black talon emerging inches under his collarbone. Red bloomed around the claw, staining his white shirt as three more talons clutched his shoulder. A cry of desperation ripped out of his throat, achy and raw. His pursuit of safety was suddenly halted by the dragonis’ grip. He clawed at the hand that held him only to be lifted from the ground.

  “Remis!” Merritt yelled watching in horror as Remis was pulled upward several yards.

  Remis kicked his feet but the pain in his shoulder was a tearing one and his vision began to darken on the edges. There was a lightness to his head and his stomach was already twisting tight to release its contents. He gripped the animal’s leg, digging into it with his own well-filed nails, only to find that no matter the pressure he couldn’t pierce its scales.

  “Watch out!” It was Percy who yelled this time.

  Though Remis tried his best to watch for the snap of the dragonis’ teeth, he let his gaze scan the skies briefly before he realized the threat Percy was referring to was coming from the ground. Fire roared to life at the end of the mage-made cannon meant to replicate the flames of a Bold Wing. It blasted through the air missing him by less than a foot. The heat of it hit Remis’ face as though he’d just stepped out on the hottest day of summer and the sun was beating down upon him.

  The dragonis swerved out of the fire. Those flames left no mark upon the shining matte scales of its face but the animal hissed and lifted Remis another foot higher. He swore as he felt more muscles tear, his arm threatening to go limp as a tingling numbness shot into his fingers.

  Merritt yelled as he pushed his body weight into the cannon. Fire swirled around Remis and he shrieked as it came close to his dangling legs. His muscles strained then burned as he tried to pull himself up, tucking his legs against him. Percy’s shouting was unrecognizable to Remis as his friends called out to him, all while they pointed the flames dangerously close to his head.

 

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