Jagged, snow-capped peaks pierced a layer of cloud so thick and opaque it looked like a fluffy bearskin rug rolled across the earth. The air was frigid up this high, as cold as the height of winter in Aeretoll; it stung her cheeks, made her eyes water. Shewas glad of Rune’s arms warm and strong around her; the heat of his chest pressed tight to her back.
Had they not been riding to their certain doom, it would have been romantic.
Once they’d pushed through the cloud layer and landed amongst the thin, cold air of the mountaintop, Náli had steered Valgrind out wide, away from them, hunkered low over the drake’s withers. Percy, riderless, flying in the lead, had turned his head and trumpeted what sounded like a warning to his son. Valgrind had called back, but obeyed his rider, and kept his distance. Tessa’s last glimpse of Náli’s face, before he was too far distant to make out his expression, had revealed an unhappy scowl beneath the brow of his helmet.
Now, drawing a little ahead of them, Valgrind started to swoop and dive, ducking through clouds, playing. If Náli performed his usual theatric protests, the wind was too fierce for Tessa to hear them.
Because the drakes could cover the distance to the capital much more quickly than the men on horseback and foot in the tunnels, the plan was to swing east, following the natural curve of the mountain range and scouting the old watchtowers from a safe distance to see if Sels were posted there. If yes, they would double back and head toward the coastline, do some reconnaissance, and then find someplace to lie low until Oliver signaled Percy through their bond that it was time to descend upon the palace.
IfOliver could signal Percy through the bond.
Every few minutes, worry for Oliver swamped her all over again. In the past it had taken him at least a week to recover from a marsh fever relapse, sometimes two or three. Every time, it had felt as though it might be the final time. The physician would shake his head grimly, and Amelia would press a cool cloth toOliver’s flushed brow, and Tessa would begin to cry, because it didn’t seem possible that the fever could break.
It always did. It alwayshad.
But who was to say that it would now?
Rune’s arms tightened around her waist, and his chin hooked over her shoulder. He shouted, and the wind snatched his voice away, so she barely heard him say, “What’s that?”
At first, she didn’t see anything, only the pale blue of the sky brushed with gold, and the rolling carpet of clouds below. But when Run extended an arm, and pointed, she spied a tiny dark speck in the distance.
“I don’t know. A bird?” she shouted back. But her heart began to pound, because this was a high altitude, and only migrating flocks would be sharing the peaks with them this time of year. Up here, there was no prey for a solitary hawk or falcon, no carrion for a vulture to spy and circle down toward.
Ahead, Percy banked sharply to the left, swooped around, and pulled up alongside them. He screeched, and Alfie screeched back, and Tessa’s mind filled with a sight that froze the air in her lungs.
It wasn’t a bird ahead, but a drake. A big one. And as Alfie sent a cry of distress through the bond, the speck grew bigger, and bigger, and bigger, coming straight toward them, until she could see the working of its wings and wondered how she’d mistaken it for anything but what it was: a massive Selesee drake, violent purple in the new morning light.
Valgrind came winging back to them, shrieking, undulating like a ribbon through the air as he pumped his wings twice as fast to meet them and continue traveling forward.
Why in the gods’ names were they still traveling forward?!
Within shouting range, Náli called, “What is it? Why are they screaming?”
Tessa gaped at him a moment; she forgot sometimes that he wasn’t a Drake, and didn’t share the same kind of mental and soulful connection she, Oliver, and Amelia did with their drakes. Then she called back, “There’s a drake headed for us! A purple one!”
Like she had, Náli took a moment to gape. Then he cursed. He was so naturally pale that she didn’t expect him to blanch, but he did, and his eyes seemed bright blue by contrast.
He looked ahead, and Tessa did, too. The oncoming drake was growing larger and nearer by the second. She could see the lash of its tail, now, could tell that its wingspan dwarfed Percy’s.
Rune’s breath puffed warm against her ear. “What will we do? Can our drakes fight it?” He sounded like a man trying very hard to be brave and rational. “I have my bow.”
At another time, Tessa would have smiled, and touched his cheek, and explained that it was very sweet and heroic of him to offer up his archery skills, while inwardly shaking her head, because save a direct hit to the eye, the idea of shooting a bow toward a scaled drake of this size was laughable.
But this time, as disaster and certain death flapped its way toward them, Tessa couldn’t say anything. She clung to the leather strap of Alfie’s breastplate, and opened up the bond between them as wide as it would go. Accepted their connection so freely and wholeheartedly that her vision sharpened, and she realized she was seeing through Alfie’s eyes, rather than her own. She could sense Alfie’s connection with Percy and with Valgrind. Her head swelled with the inclusion of so many voices besides her own.
What do we do?she asked Alfie.How can we survive this?
Alfie told her with images, with a plan of attack born in Percy’s mind, and shared with his family via a high, bugling call that cracked out across the mountaintops.
“What are we doing?” Náli shouted, panicked. “Do you mean to fly straight into the bastard?”
“No!” she shouted back. “Hold on!”
She twisted her head and repeated, “Hold on!” to Rune.
Alfie ducked her head, and dove straight down into the clouds.
Rune yelled in alarm, and he squeezed Tessa so tight it was hard to draw her next breath. But when Tessa leaned low over Alfie’s neck, he leaned with her.
