“Now what?” she asks.
I cup her uncovered cheek. “Now we wait.”
It doesn’t take much more time after that to feel the ground shake beneath us. The crystals that were silent upon moving now pierce the air, across the distance to our camp.
It is an overwhelming beat, one that sparks movement and action before thought. It hasn’t been long enough since the battle song last played.
When the air stills, I know it’s time. Only a few moments of quiet are spared before the roar of crumbling stone pierces the air.
Estela’s eyes grow wide, and she dashes out, squinting to make out the cloud of dust that shoots up in a long column before billowing out like a mushroom cap. We are easily an hour's walk from the mine, but it looks far closer than I realized.
“Can you see it?” I ask, knowing that while her eyesight has improved, it is not effortless like mine.
She nods, silently.
It is time for the second regiment.
Soon, the third group will go in from behind and invade the camp from the top of the mountain mine.
And then…
Gods, it’s happening too fast.
“Teo, Estela,” Mrath’s voice says from behind. She commands the space, fully dressed in her black armor, covered in razor sharp leaves. “It is time to move.” She stands with a group of her dryads and Thorne.
My heart stutters, but Estela turns around, proud. “Let us uncoverdrathorinna.”
We follow the elf to the dome that was made from the trees to cover the dragon’s crystal glow. Slowly, the twelve of them work their magic, releasing the bindings around the drake.
She stretches her long neck and expands her wings.
If the elves are as awestruck as the rest of us, they do not show us tonight.
I can feel a new battle song start up in camp, an elvish sound. It matches the beat of my heart, the same as Estela’s. We walk together, but when she reachesdrathorinna, she climbs to the top like the tree climber she once was.
Following behind her, I feel the amplification of the war cries. The marvelous creature takes a step and then another.
“Teo,” Vann calls out. “Are you ready, brother?”
I jerk around to look at him.
It is a vision from my past to see him in full armor, and his cleaver hanging from his hand. We fought alongside each other through many battles, cutting through our enemies with a frenetic need that once drove the giants to their knees in submission.
He was meant to ride, but that was before I knew about the child Estela carries. There’s no one I would trust more at my side to help protect her.
“Come,” I call, gesturing him up.
He looks at me, confused.
“What are you saying? I came to wish you luck.”
Estela turns, a protest written on her face, but I give her a pleading look and say, “Every butcher needs a fine cleaver. Let him come. We can keep you safe,” I say.
She presses her lips together, nods once, then calls, “Lord Vann, your king wants you to fight at his side!”
Drathorinnaextends her wing, and Vann studies it, clearly hesitant. Then, he climbs up, and the wing moves, depositing him behind me. A new handle appears on the back of the great beast, and he clutches on.
“Holy shit,” he mutters from behind.
