“I’ve never faced creatures like these,” he admitted.
“They materialize upon movement. And there’s no surprising them. They already know we’re here, and what we’re planning.” To show him the depths of danger, I picked up a rock and tossed it toward a flower beneath the phantoms. A single wraithling whipped its head in our direction, snarling a sound so sharp it stabbed my eardrums, drawing blood. It caught the stone with its teeth, and the thing disintegrated.
Then the creature vanished from the circle, only to reappear directly in front of us, its wings spread, revealing a thousand snapping mouths. Endless pools of pain stared straight into my soul, sending a cold shudder down my spine.
Taron reared back, startled, then attempted to slice the beast with his sword, but I caught his wrist, stopping him.
“Do not make contact within their domain. They cannot top the hill. Can’t reach you here. They’re all tethered.” Even as the wraithling closest to us strained, some force held it fast. The air crackled, and the scent of ozone added to the rot. In frustration, all those mouths stopped snapping and started screaming.
Sharp, searing stabs in my temples. Hot blood poured from my ears. The same must have happened to Taron. He bellowed and flattened hishands over his own.
Why must this potion quest always be so difficult?
When our tormentor realized we wouldn’t budge, and it wouldn’t make contact, it vanished again, reappearing in the circle.
“I’ll handle the wraithlings and acquire the flower,” I said, passing Taron my pack and removing the retractable spear.
He shook his head. “We go together.”
Something akin to hope stirred in my chest. Thankfully, it died on its own a moment later. I didn’t see concern for my safety in his eyes, but conviction. The kind he’d been raised on. The kind that taught him dragons were fire-breathing monsters, and humans would always pay a hefty price for trusting one.
Well, too bad. “If you want to survive, you have no choice but to trust me. Besides, it’s my turn to take one for the team.”
He worked his jaw before giving me a tight nod.
“Wait until the fight starts, then sprint around the field. Do not approach or return for me, no matter what you see or hear. Ja, I’ll be injured.” Gravely so. “That’s a given, but I have a plan. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can.”
A pause. Then, “Olyssa,” he all but pleaded. “I don’t want you harmed.”
Again, my heart stirred. I ignored it.He cares for the ingredient, not me.
“You might not be my subject, Taron, but you’ll do what I say today or you’ll die. So be a good boy and let me go earn myself a second teacup.” I didn’t want to hear anything else from him. I headed down the hill.
Chapter
Eleven
Peace is a weapon greater than fear. Guard it as you would a rare teacup.
-Humaning for Beginners: A Dragon’s Tale of Human Management
Iforced Taron from my thoughts and sprinted down the hill, the folded spear clenched in my hand. With every step, I allowed buried anger to rise, spark and fuel until a haze of rage cloaked my vision. But I didn’t enter a full berserkerage; I only skirted the edge of one. I would be attacked. That was a given. Better to keep my wits, and my purpose, at the forefront of my mind. I knew what the glade would demand. I wasn’t walking in blind, but prepared.
The closer I drew to the wraithlings, the thicker the air became, laden with a potent cocktail of anguish, sadness and frenzy. A prickling ran along my skin, raising the tiny hairs on the back of my neck and down my arm. Moans of misery reached my ears, carried by a constant stream of wailing. A metallic odor coated the atmosphere, as if death had moved in and refused to leave.
Upon reaching striking distance of the wraithlings, I popped the spear. The pieces straightened with a whoosh, the joints snapping into place. Good thing.
A lone wraithling dropped and shot my way, chomping its teeth at me.Allof its teeth, even those on the wings it attempted to wrap around me.
“Got no quarrel with you. Just need a flower. A single flower, and I’ll leave,” I shouted, ducking and twisting, still on the move, barely avoiding contact. When I reached the edge of the circle, the other wraithlings whipped in my direction too. With wild, high-pitched screeches, they attacked me in unison. So much for avoiding the fight.
I hadn’t realized how prophetic I’d been when I told Taron I was taking one for the team, but going alone was still the cleanest way through.
Their screeches burst my eardrums. The sound wasn’t just noise, but a weapon. In an instant, my world went silent. Suddenly, hundreds of teeth bit me, and multiple sets of claws slashed bone-deep. Utterly surrounded.
Pain consumed me. I screamed but still heard nothing. Blood dripped into my eyes, blurring my vision. At least until a wraithling clawed out my left eye. I didn’t slow. Couldn’t let myself stop. Wings and shrouds. More teeth. More scratches and gashes. So much blood. I couldn’t kill these creatures; they were already dead. All I could do was fight my way onward.
Going by instinct rather than senses, I shoved an end of the spear into the ground, hoping it reached the center of the circle. Success! A blast of electrical energy exploded up and out, slamming into my opponents.
