Rafe nods. “Hopefully so much that Vogel will rescind Damion’s power over the dragons and feed him to them instead.”
I briefly meet Yvan’s green eyes, and we share a brief glimmer of satisfaction.
Rhys turns to Rafe. “It appears they haven’t bothered to post sentries.” The young Elf points a slender finger toward the rows of dragon cages that border the entire base, edging the wilds. The cages appear isolated and unguarded, no movement around them. No torchlight.
Cael glances at Rhys, the older Elf’s face taut, fully understanding the risk we’re all taking, but desperate to have options for his sister to escape into the Eastern Realm. He moves protectively closer to Wynter.
“Damion Bane’s not the only upper-level soldier in Valgard right now,” Jarod goes on. “Vogel’s reorganizing the whole Guard—there’s a number of promotions being announced. All of Damion’s lieutenants are in Valgard with him.”
“Very good,” Andras affirms with a nod, his fist tight around his labrys.
“It gets better,” Jarod puts in, the late-afternoon light casting him in a bluish glow. “The soldiers who stayed behind? They’re all fresh out of apprenticeships.”
“Ah, wonderful,” Rafe says with a smile. “Green as spring foliage. And while the cat’s away...”
“Are the mice playing?” Trystan inquires wryly.
“With a large volume of illegal Keltic spirits,” Jarod responds with a sly smile.
“And more than a few Urisk tavern girls,” Diana spits out.
“Typical,” Tierney snipes.
“Oh, this is almost too easy,” Trystan gloats with a small smirk, the white wand hanging from the belt beneath his cloak.
*
We’re quickly sobered when we find Naga in even worse condition than before.
She lies unconscious, both legs and both wings broken now, one ear cut clear off, her cage’s floor smeared with fresh and dried blood, her forked tongue hanging limply out of her mouth. Shocked, Yvan kneels down by Wynter and puts his hand next to hers on the dragon’s neck.
Tierney gapes at the dragon, her thin hand coming up to cover her mouth, eyes wide with shock.
She’s with us now, Tierney, and eager to help create any chink in the Gardnerians’ military might that she can—and to help us secure dragonflight escape for the Icarals and the Fae.
Our band of rebels is growing. All of us are here, save Aislinn, who’s once again caring for Marina.
And Ariel.
After our last visit to the base, Diana and Jarod scouted out a hidden, expansive cave deep in the forest. Ariel is there, preparing the medicines and splints we’ll need to heal our dragon.
“She’s alive,” Yvan breathes out.
“Gods...who did this?” Tierney murmurs.
“Dragon Master Damion Bane,” Trystan succinctly tells Tierney as he pulls out the white wand and focuses it on a few different spots on the cage, his expression gone steely. “And I think it’s high time we put an end to it.”
Andras readies his ax.
We all step back as Trystan murmurs the freezing spell.
A thin burst of blue light surges from the wand’s tip and collides with the bars of the cage, spiraling around them and turning the Elfin steel white-blue, a thick layer of icy frost growing beneath the spell’s light. Trystan keeps at it for several minutes before murmuring the spell again, the light doubling in intensity.
As the spell fades, Trystan steps back and glances at the wand in frustration. “It’s not working. They need to get so cold they turn white. The bars—they might be too thick.”
“Try again,” I prod. “You strengthened the spell the second time. Maybe you just need to work up to it.”
Trystan takes a deep breath, nods then repositions himself and speaks the words of the spell once more. Again, the frost grows, and the steel glows blue. Every muscle in Trystan’s body goes tense as he pushes at the spell. His body begins to tremble, and the wand starts to buck in his hand.
I reach out to steady him.
As soon as my hand makes contact with Trystan’s back, a buzzing heat courses through me. Trystan’s spell explodes in strength. The small spiral of blue bursts into a giant ellipse of sapphire light encircling the cage. And then the entire steel framework turns translucent as glass.
I recoil sharply as there’s another burst of light, a deafening crack and the ellipse of light surges backward. I’m hit by a painful wave of frigid air that almost knocks me off my feet.
I pull my frozen eyelashes apart just in time to see the bars of the cage go white as snow then crumble to pieces, the shards of frozen metal smashing against each other, the sound like a million chandelier crystals falling on stone.
Before we have a chance to speak, the crashing sound echoes out from the forest over and over, near and far.
“What was that?” Tierney asks in a small, worried voice.
“It sounded like cages shattering,” Trystan guardedly replies. “But...it couldn’t be...”
“How many dragons are on this base?” Cael inquires, dead-serious urgency in his eyes.
Trystan swallows hard before answering. “A hundred and twenty-three.”
Rafe turns to Cael. “Any thoughts on what they might do?”
“They’re trained to kill intruders,” Cael answers grimly. “And to go to their Dragon Master.”
Yvan rushes at the tallest tree in the vicinity, a great, towering pine. He scrambles up it with breathtaking speed, deft as a river monkey. I blink up at his form as he hangs one-armed from the treetop, not quite believing my eyes. I rack my brain and try to remember what type of Fae can climb like that.
Something snarls in the distance. One man shouts then more. A series of vicious growls rise that set the hairs on the back of my neck on edge. And then a base alarm sounds—a high-pitched, spiraling whistle as dragons begin to shriek.
“They’re everywhere,” Yvan calls down. “They’re all loose...”
Yvan leaps from the top of the tree and lands in front of me with a heavy thwump. He’s crouched low, a look of fierce resolve burning in his emerald eyes.
I’ve no time to marvel over his effortless leap from such a great height. He grabs my arm and practically throws me out of the clearing into the shelter of the trees.
I scrape my arm, and a branch slashes at my face as I hit the ground.
Three dragons shoot into view, soaring over, just above the treetops, beating foul wind down onto us with powerful wings, their undersides covered in hard, ebony scales. One of them lets out a rasping shriek. I become acutely aware of the softness of my skin—how easily it would yield to teeth and claws.
Easy prey.
Cael and Rhys have taken to the trees, arrows nocked in ivory bows as Tierney shrinks down by a large oak. The base below us has become a cacophony of shrieking and growling. Men shouting. Women screaming. Horses panicking.
“Wyn’terlyn,” Cael calls out to his sister in Elvish, his eyes seared on to her. He points to Naga and barks out an order in their tongue. Wynter quickly slides under Naga’s broken wing, disappearing from sight.
“I can hear dragons,” Diana says, cocking her head. “A number of them. Coming this way.”
“How many?” Andras asks, his jaw going rigid as he brandishes his ax and flexes muscular arms.
Diana levels her eyes at him. “Too many to count.”
Rafe readies his bow as Diana and Jarod crouch low. Yvan’s hand finds my arm, every part of me on high alert, heart racing. I remember the broken dragons’ horrible teeth, their soulless eyes...
“Stand ready!” Diana commands as she morphs her hands into clawed weapons, one arm arced above her head, a low growl emanating from her throat.
A dragon bursts into our clearing, wings beating. I gasp and reflexively shrink back behind Yvan as arrows shoot down and bounce off the beast’s neck. The creature immediately zeroes in on Diana, tilts its horrible head and hisses, showing off murderous, spiked teeth.