“Wait, try to up easy . . .” Pia started to say, at the same time Graydon sprang into the air. Shit! She clamped her legs and held on to him as tightly as she could. Sitting behind her, Eva hooked an arm around her waist as he flew low over the trees.
Cold seared the skin on her hands and face and burned in her lungs. As unsettling as the passageway blaze had been, she had gotten used to the warmth that it threw into the surrounding area. She coughed and wheezed, struggling to adjust.
As soon as Graydon reached the bluff, he wheeled to follow the path as it wound up toward the burned shell of the building on the cliff. Pia forgot to worry about an unsettled stomach as, for the first time that morning, she caught sight of what happened below.
When they had first arrived, she had only taken one look into the valley before she had turned away. Now the sight struck her again like a blow.
Gaeleval’s “army” was large enough that the valley floor seemed to undulate with movement as Numenlaurians pushed forward to climb the bluff in a mindless wave. Working together, the Elves and the Wyr shoved away those who reached the top, striking them with the flat of their swords so that they fell back to the valley floor. They disappeared, trampled underfoot by more Numenlaurians who pressed forward to begin the climb.
As she watched, some of the Elves on the bluff lunged forward to grab at one of the smaller figures that reached the top. It kicked and fought as they dragged it away from the edge. They must be trying to save one of the children.
Over the brawling mass, the dragon flew, sleek and dangerous with his gigantic wings outspread. Calondir, the High Lord rode at the base of his neck, a bright, shining splinter of silver against the dragon’s bronze hide. Dragos coasted a thermal, his triangular horned head lowered. He appeared to be searching for something. She guessed that they were hunting for Gaeleval.
Pia glanced back the way they had come, where the psychos had already grown small and antlike as they tore down pup tents. Beyond the camp, the inferno in the passageway towered above the trees.
Then the flames died down.
Just like that, from one moment to the next, the fire in the passageway disappeared as if it had never existed.
What did that mean? Had Gaeleval finally reached the limit of what he could do?
Even as she wondered, a hurricane of wind howled through the valley.
Out of nowhere, a colossal force slammed into them. Graydon coughed and clawed at the air as he struggled to remain upright. Pia screamed, clutching him with both arms and legs, as Eva grunted and slid down his back.
The wind was vicious, like a living creature. It tore at her hold on Graydon and raked at the skin of her face. Between her legs, she felt the gryphon’s powerful body straining against a force that literally shoved him sideways. The ground tilted and raced up to meet them.
As Linwe had said, the most Powerful among the Elves could take an affinity to air and create a storm the size of Hurricane Rita.
And those ancients who were especially gifted had an affinity to more than one element that tended to be compatible with each other.
Like fire and air. That sort of thing.
Ancient and adept, Gaeleval was nothing if not gifted.
At the last moment, Graydon managed to yank up straight enough so that he took the brunt of the impact with the ground. He plowed into the rocky path, and as he struck, the landing knocked both Eva and Pia off his back.
It could be worse, it could be worse, it could be worse, Pia chanted in her head, even as she tumbled head over heels. She struck the trunk of a tree bruisingly along her left shoulder. It knocked the breath out of her, and her arm went numb. Cursing, Eva skidded on the ground beside her.
It could be worse.
Graydon had been cautious. He had flown low over the path. They hadn’t been that high off the ground.
Not like Dragos and Calondir.
Pia dragged air back into her aching lungs and screamed again as she scrambled onto her hands and knees. She raked the sky with a frantic gaze.
A rotation of air had formed around the dragon, a visible dark funnel cloud constructed with hurricane force winds. Dragos’s long body stretched, tail lashing as he fought to gain purchase.
Elsewhere, the gale had flattened everyone else. The bluff was cleared of any climbing Numenlaurians. Elven and Wyr fighters at the top of the bluff were crawling away from the edge. Sharp cracks of sound, like the percussion of modern artillery, sounded as trees snapped at the trunk.
Graydon lunged for Pia and covered her with his massive lion’s body.
Are you all right? he asked telepathically.
Yes. She grabbed for Eva’s arm and dragged the other woman underneath the gryphon’s protection. Are you? Can you fly?
Not in this, cupcake. None of us can get off the ground and hope to stay aloft.