Unleash the Inferno (Heart of a Dragon Book 3) Page 32

  “So the battle is over,” he rasped, his shoulders slumping. “We have lost, and Cedric will have to surrender.”

  “Nay. The battle has just begun.”

  Ayden pulled his startled gaze to Kayeck's gap-toothed grin. Her opaque gaze had settled on something over his shoulder. At the same time, a deafening noise thundered through the sky.

  He blinked in awed amazement.

  Blackening the lighting sky to the north, an army of Dragons flew, rank after rank. At the head, flying far out in front of the Dragon cloud, Ayden saw an Ember, and beside it, four immense Dragons, one from each species.

  “Sperah,” Ayden breathed. “They did it. The four Great Dragons have come.”

  “Aye,” Kayeck answered. “Now we can win, for indeed, our numbers are enough, as Ongalian nobles and their soldiers ride hundreds of those Dragons. My daughter did it.” Pride surged in her voice.

  Ayden wasn't the only one who noticed the huge force. In front of him, Sebastian's soldiers and creatures saw them, too, and cries of terror ricocheted off the mountain slopes. A slow movement began, first a trickle, and then a torrent, as Sebastian's forces fell back to the south, to their headquarters, to Sebastian and the prisoner he held captive—to Kinna.

  “To the skies, Luasa!” Ayden shouted as the way cleared in front of the Mirage.

  She needed no encouragement. Her wings beat the air with deafening claps, and she circled skyward. Ayden looked back, and then forward. Luasa's scales glinted in the rising light of day, and she was the only speck of movement between the coming horde of Dragons from the Great Valley, and Sebastian's forces that cloaked the mountains to the south.

  “It's time to end this,” Ayden breathed, leaning low over Luasa's neck and allowing her to speed him toward the Amulet and his own impending death.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cedric

  Cedric had no strength in his legs. Lincoln supported him from behind with both hands on his shoulders as they flew away from the terrible scene where Sebastian had captured Kinna. “I know my song can't fix you, Cedric Andrachen,” Lincoln called, “but it will get you and Ember safely to headquarters.”

  “But Kinna—” Cedric began. All he could think of was his sister's pale face as Sebastian had captured her in his flaming hands. Ember's labored wingbeats hurtled Lincoln and him through the air as the Pixie continued to sing. Cedric's mind, dim with pain, recognized the strength that flowed through Lincoln's words, that entered his head and Ember's both, that gave the injured Dragon strength to lift his wings and fly him and Lincoln over the ridge to safety.

  Cedric's wounded leg shot a fresh wave of pain over him, and he curled over Ember's fin. By the Stars, he'd made a mess of things during this battle, managing not only to injure himself, but Ember, too—all of it resulting in Kinna's dire fate. He reviewed all that had transpired before Kinna's capture, though he knew hindsight was useless, and could not change the outcomes of the fight. Even so the recent memories plagued him and offered some small distraction from his pain...

  The night had been long, and Cedric's fear had stretched interminably. He'd tracked Kinna and Lincoln as they shot forward to meet Sebastian's air assault of Dragons, Phoenixes, and Griffons, his hands tightening on Ember's fins as his Dragon's quick drop pulled his attention to the ground. Lanier led his ground troops in a charge down the mountain toward Sebastian's soldiers and creatures who climbed the steep slopes.

  Ember barreled into the enemy forces, his fangs and talons doing as much damage as his Dragonfire.

  Cedric clenched his sword, swinging at every soldier they passed. The hisses and roars of the Dragons thundered everywhere. Pixie song filtered through the violent shrieks and screams—though too far away to affect those around Cedric. Eventually, his hand lost feeling on the hilt of his sword.

  Creatures fell like rain, victims of the slaughter in the skies. The hours seemed to never end, blow after blow, battle after battle.

  Cedric's real trouble had begun when two massive Poison-Quills had cornered Ember, hours deep in the carnage.

  The quills on one of the Dragons rattled dangerously, loosening near Ember's muzzle.

  They exploded, and one of the quills sailed past Cedric as he ducked. The other Poison-Quill grabbed Ember's neck, and Ember released a high squeal as the first Dragon snagged his sensitive muzzle in his teeth.

  Cedric hated himself for doing it, but his life and Ember's depended on it. “Let him go!” he shouted. “Go away!”

  The Dragons scrambled backward, panicked, cowed, and angry. Their hate-filled eyes stared at Cedric and Ember for an eternal silent moment, and then they dashed, snarling, into a crowd of struggling rebel forces, immediately slaughtering four infantry and two Elves.

  Cedric had watched, horrified at the backlash of what his Dragon-speak had caused.

  Could I have done it differently? Cedric wondered as poor Ember struggled against a headwind toward The Rebellion's headquarters, Lincoln's Pixie song and sheer Dragon stubbornness the only two forces keeping them aloft. In the thick heat of battle, his decisions had hinged on momentary instincts. He'd always known the Dragon-speak was a double-edged sword. Compelling any Dragon only enraged it, and Cedric understood why too clearly. In the moment, he had been able to bury his guilt at forcing the creatures—in wartime, one could not always choose paths that aligned with one's convictions.

  In retrospect, though, Cedric second-guessed every choice that had led to Ember's injury and Kinna's capture. His leg throbbed mercilessly where the arrow shaft still stuck out from his flesh, the pain a penance for every hasty, desperate—wrong?—choice. He closed his eyes and let Lincoln's song sweep over him. But not even Pixie song could assuage the guilt of what had happened next in the battle.

  Cedric had finally pulled Ember free of the imbroglio with the Poison-Quills.

  He took stock of the battle. The main fighting force was behind him, and he and Ember were in one of the deep ravines rifting the valley.

  They were alone. The sky had begun to lighten, its blackness turning to indigo and then to gray in the predawn light.

  All around them, men and creatures on both sides lay, most dead, some dying. Cedric held up his sword; his arm trembled against the weight. He couldn't unpeel his fingers from the hilt; dried blood crusted his skin to the handle.

  He rubbed his free hand over Ember's flaming scales, checking for any damage from the near-disaster with the Poison-Quills.

  Ember turned, but a wild scream from above froze them both. A Griffon's hunting call. Cedric stared up as a blur of feathers and talons dropped with deadly speed and accuracy onto Ember's back.

  Pain sliced into Cedric's mind as his psuche connection with Ember erupted in agony. Ember bellowed and rolled, giving Cedric only a heartbeat to leap out of the way, but the Griffon stuck to the Dragon like a burr on wool, tearing and ripping with its razor-like talons.

  “Ember!” Cedric yelled, somehow managing to lift his exhausted sword arm. Ember, sensing Cedric's intent, stilled. With the final reserves of Cedric's strength, he leapt atop the Dragon and skewered the feathered Griffon in the heart.

  Collapsing atop Ember, he stared at the sky where two Poison-Quills circled at a safe distance—the same two Poison-Quills he'd sent away using Dragon-speak. Cedric's command to go away had been effective—they'd been unable to attack again—but in their rage and anger at Cedric for using his power against them, they'd sent the Griffon in their place.

  Cedric moved to touch Ember's bleeding wounds, glancing up the mountainside where soldiers and creatures still roiled beneath the light of flames and the gray rose light of predawn.

  “We've got to get back up there, Ember.”

  Ember groaned, but gamely tried his wings. His sharp shriek split the air, and he stopped, panting.

  Cedric understood. Ember's pain was too great to lift them off the ground. “Let's walk as far as we can, then,” Cedric said. “I'll search for firewort as we go.”

  Firew
ort was a hardy plant, growing in abundance and in all seasons in these wooded highlands, and Cedric spotted the yellow flowers quickly. He plucked great handfuls and stuffed them into the wounds on Ember's wing and back. He used his own belt to apply some pressure on the worst wing wound, despite Ember's shriek and the pain they both felt.

  “That's the best I can do, Ember,” he murmured. “Do you think you can get us up the mountainside now?”

  The Dragon shook beneath the force of his pain. His scales flamed brightly, and the injured wing thumped erratically on the ground.

  Cedric smoothed his hand over the Dragon's neck and climbed onto his back. “Just try, Ember. Maybe we can find Ayden—see if he can heal your wing.”

  With a deep groan, followed by high, rasping sounds of pain, Ember lifted from the ground, carrying them unsteadily toward the mountain crest, the fighting, and the continuing rain of injured and dead creatures above them.

  Cedric focused on the hillcrest. “Nearly there, Ember. Another half a fieldspan; we'll surely make it now.”

  The words were no sooner out of his mouth than, with a crash and a shriek that echoed across the tumult, one of the same Poison-Quills fell from the sky, crashing into Ember, hurling them toward the earth. The Poison-Quill was already dead by the time they hit the ground. An Elvish arrow protruded from its muzzle, and another bolt jutted out from the creature's mouth, embedded so only a small portion of the feathered end showed in the charred blackness of the creature's maw.

  Ember landed half on top of the beast, the dangerous poison-tipped quills squealing sideways off of his flaming protective scale-coating. His great, fiery head crashed to the ground, and he lay still, a deep groan emitting with every breath.

  “Ember!”

  Cedric ducked a stray bolt and crawled toward Ember's head.

  “Ember, we're nearly there,” he whispered as he stared into the creature's pain-filled eyes. “Only a quarter of a fieldspan. Please, for me.”

  The sounds of the battlefield muted in Cedric's ears. All he could see was his Dragon, his friend, who had pulled him through the worst of times on more occasions than he could even admit to himself. And he, Cedric, had brought this trouble onto them with his cursed Andrachen “gift.”

  “Please, Ember,” he whispered, a tear escaping his eye that dropped with a hiss onto Ember's hot snout.

  With a heavy sigh, Ember raised his head. He groaned, lurching and stumbling to his feet, putting one foot before another. His tail dragged, and his scales burned fever red. Slowly, an eternity to Cedric, they climbed the hill. The fighting continued around them, but separate. No one bothered them; perhaps the Dragon looked dead enough that no one took the trouble.

  The crest was only spans away, just a few more steps. He was there. He could see down the slopes on the other side. “Headquarters, Ember,” he murmured.

  An arrow had thudded into Cedric's leg.

  Cedric blinked, returning from his memories to the present. The arrow's shaft still stuck out from his leg, more painful than the moment it had struck. Ember stumbled on landing, beaten and abused. Cedric pushed himself into a sitting position, casting an exhausted glance at Lincoln, who had finally stopped singing.

  The Pixie was grinning. Cedric stared, bewildered. “What is there to smile about?” he asked. “We've lost Kinna.”

  “Do you hear that?”

  “What?”

  “Listen!”

  In the distance, from the north, Cedric heard a growing disturbance in the air, the sound of a crashing waterfall, or a great sea surf, approaching. A dark line on the horizon appeared.

  “It is Ashleen and Sage,” Lincoln murmured. “They return with the Great Dragons and all the nobles and might of Ongalia. They bring hope.”

  Cedric crumpled against Lincoln, all strength leaving his body. “She did it,” he whispered. “I knew she could. Everything she touches turns golden. Not like me. I ruin everything. I lost Kinna.” His leg throbbed. Slowly, he sank into the hazy part of his mind between pain and unconsciousness.

  Cedric's leg could not support his weight. He caught it between his hands, twisting to see the source of the arrow that had speared him.

  Sebastian sat on a Dragon's back only lengths away, and beside him, a Griffondimn with an Elvish bow.

  “Excellent mark, Griffondimn,” Sebastian complimented the man. “Taking that bow as conquest has done you a service.”

  Cedric pulled his sword from its sheath, an involuntary cry of pain escaping his lips. Behind him, Ember growled, but his Dragon was hardly fit to attack.

  Sebastian laughed as Cedric raised his weapon.

  “What a paltry picture this makes—an Andrachen, supposedly a royal, groveling in the filth, raising a sword from a seated position. Your father would have been so proud.”

  Cedric tried to stand, but fell to the side as his leg gave way. “What my father did—or did not—approve—makes no difference—to me,” he ground between clenched teeth.

  Sebastian's eyebrows arched. “Oh? So the apprentice finally sees a flaw in the master's portrait?” His lips curved up in a sneer. “I told you long ago, Cedric, your father was no one to be admired, and if I remember correctly, you threw my words into my face.” He leaned forward on the back of his Dragon, his arms resting between the Nine-Tail's fins. “You know what the best part is?”

  “Tell me,” Cedric grunted.

  “Like father, like son. If I allowed you to live, you'd fill your father's shoes, Cedric, but only because Liam was a maniacal power-hungry liar who whored out his promises like Pixie charm—easily believed and just as easily dissolved.” He rubbed his beard thoughtfully as he spoke. “It's almost a pity that I intend to kill you; it would be fun to watch you make a fool of yourself, your pitiful kingdom, and your people. It seems that even with your Andrachen gifts, you ruin everything.”

  Cedric raised his weapon again, his arm trembling. “You will not make me in my father's image. I am my own person, Sebastian. I can, and I will, act justly.”

  Sebastian sat back with a tsk. “Such nobility.” He signaled the Griffondimn at his side to release the second arrow nocked in his bow.

  Cedric braced.

  A glistening, great, white crash shook the ground in front of him, and Chennuh's huge form blocked his view of Sebastian and the Griffondimn.

  His twin sister, her hair lit with the brilliant red of the rising dawn, glared down at Sebastian. “Lincoln, help him!” she ordered, and the orange-haired Pixie slid from Chennuh's back, sprinting toward Cedric, a song reverberating around him as he collapsed to his knees beside Cedric, and Cedric released the pain, released his struggle, swirling away in a dark cloud of terror as Sebastian's words reverberated around him: Like father, like son. He moaned the words, and they eked from his lips like poison.

  The last thing he saw was Kinna's terrified face as Sebastian engulfed her in a flaming embrace.

  “It's my fault.”

  “No, Cedric. Cedric, come back,” Ashleen's cool hands were like water to flame where they smoothed over his forehead, across his face. “You are not your father; you are not your uncle. Kinna's capture is not your fault. Please, Cedric, come back. Please don't believe those lies. You're here at headquarters. Ember's wounds are being treated, and we're going to extract the arrow from your leg.”

  “Kinna?” he asked weakly.

  Cedric blinked, and Ashleen stood over him in the fiery light of the rising sun, tree branches arching above her in the clearing where he lay. Her hands rested on his chest, and her lovely lips widened into a smile. “Welcome back, Cedric. I've brought a few Dragons with me to finish off this battle. We'll get Kinna back.”

  The mountainside was festooned with Dragons and swarthy Ongalian soldiers, and the mid-morning light from the east bathed the slopes in its brilliance. Lanier had escaped the clash of forces on the other side and made his way back to headquarters where he now stood with a circle of the Ongalian nobility, Lord Fellowes among them, and his own Commander
s, updating them on the status of the battle.

  Cedric lay on the pallet behind them as Marigold worked over his wounded leg, packing it with firewort and creating a plaster from the oils. Her hands were gentle, but swift, and constant music emitted from her lips in harmony with Lincoln's voice as they strained to keep out anything that might prevent Cedric's leg from healing.

  Cedric's impatience must have shown. He itched to go after Kinna; Ashleen had said his twin had been taken by Sebastian south to the Lismarian headquarters. Ashleen stood at his shoulder, her cool fingers brushing the hair from his forehead. He shook his head, grimacing against the memory of Sebastian. “I should have used Dragon-speak on Sebastian's Nine-Tail,” he said. “I didn't, because it had backfired so badly when I used it to save Ember from some Poison-Quills. But it may have pulled Kinna to safety if I had controlled that Dragon.”

  Ashleen pursed her lips. “As you say, you don't know what would have happened. Kinna may have been killed in the resulting backlash. It is likely well that you didn't use your gift. Stop second-guessing yourself, Cedric.”

  Cedric sighed gustily, thumping an impatient fist on the pallet, jarring his leg. Marigold grasped the limb. “Be still, Your Grace. I will soon be finished.”

  Cedric squeezed his eyes shut, wrestling with his own urgency. “How soon is soon?”

  “Cedric.” Reproof tinged Ashleen's voice. “Let Marigold finish weaving her magic; it will be within the hour.”

  “Hour? We hardly have minutes,” Cedric argued. “He could kill her at any time.”

  “Ayden and Kayeck have already flown after them. Lanier is planning to send more forces that way. Please, rest.”

  “I can't, Ashleen.” He glanced down at Lincoln, who stood at his feet, hands clasped behind his back. “How is Ember?”

  “He has been healed, Your Grace,” Lincoln answered, “by Pixie charm. It is a tentative fix; the charm only makes him forget the pain, which allows him to fly. It does not however, heal the sinews and muscles of the wing. That takes more time, and he could re-injure it if he tries too soon.”