They didn’t make it far untroubled.
A group of stingers began tailing them just after takeoff. With his senses heightened, Holt heard the buzzing gathering behind them, but he didn’t dare glance around – he had to keep facing forward so Ash could see.
Talia and Pyra were ahead by a good arrow shot, too far for Talia to shout any instructions. On they flew, Pyra pulling even farther away, which forced Ash to beat his wings furiously to keep up.
Holt held on. Held on and kept his gaze straight. What more could he
do?
But no matter how fast they went, the buzzing followed, gaining on
them, until Holt could almost feel the creatures by his ears. It made his skin crawl, and he swatted at his head as though they were small flies. Monstrous bats said to inhabit distant lands would have been preferable. Why did they have to buzz like that?
Despite himself, Holt couldn’t help but turn his head by a fraction. He wished he hadn’t. A stinger flew so close on their right that its frothing mouth gnashed at the air, trying to bite Ash’s leg. A second later it shrieked and fell back.
“Got it with my tail.”
Holt let his appreciation wash across the bond but there wasn’t time to celebrate. Ash was barely staying ahead. Did Talia even know? She and Pyra seemed to be gaining fresh height now as though about to leave he and Ash behind.
“We can’t outrun them,” Holt said. “Tell Talia.”
“She knows. Pyra says to hold on.”
Holt gritted his teeth. It was well the dragons could communicate over the distance and elements between them.
“We’re to turn on Talia’s signal and attack,” Ash said.
“Signal?” But even as Holt asked, he saw Talia draw her sword and knew instinctively what it meant. A jet of fire swirled up her rider’s blade and Pyra turned, tucked her wings into her sides and hurtled down.
Ash banked left. Holt tightened what grip he had of Ash with his legs.
Fresh pain surged from his injury, but he kept squeezing.
Pyra roared, stingers screamed, heat from the flames kissed the back of Holt’s neck.
Ash turned to face the skirmish. One charred stinger was already falling.
Four remained. They had scattered and were now encircling Pyra.
Holt didn’t have to speak. His desire to help passed effortlessly through the bond, and Ash climbed towards the battle.
As wearing as sense-sharing was on the bond, and as cumbersome as it was, it did have its advantages. Holt and Ash were like one mind, homing in on the closest stinger, their decision made in a split second where words would have taken longer.
Holt let go of Ash with one hand to charge a Lunar Shock. Ash came up behind the unsuspecting stinger and, with a jerking stop, the dragon halted to allow Holt better aim. The Shock of light took the creature in its bulbous abdomen even as Ash sent his own beam-like breath at another stinger. Ash missed, and Holt became briefly gripped by the dragon’s frustration.
He let Ash know it was okay, that it must be hard to aim seeing from a perspective that wasn’t his own. Their bond began to burn and beat furiously.
Holt’s target howled, writhed in midair but did not fall from its injury – until Pyra flew by and Talia opened its side with her blade.
Three stingers remained.
One zipped by so fast Holt barely registered it. Ash twisted to chase it with such force Holt almost lost his grip. He clung on with both arms again – wondering how on earth he was supposed to fight properly and stay on Ash’s back at the same time – right as another unseen enemy collided with them.
It had come in sting first, clearly meaning to pierce Ash. But Ash’s spin had thwarted the angle of its attack and brought them into a blunt embrace
instead. The bug had little hooks of green carapace along its legs which swung down, mining for purchase. Many glanced off Ash’s scales, but a few sunk it. Ash roared then snapped furiously at the creature’s neck, but he couldn’t clamp down hard enough to break through its armored exoskeleton.
They thrashed in midair. Holt cried out as enormous mandibles sought him. A smell like warm rotting fish sickened him, and he saw his own terrified reflection in one of the stinger’s many onyx-orbed eyes.
Then inspiration and Talia’s recent lesson came into one. He could have blasted the stinger, and maybe he ought to have. But the bond was already growing hot and they had a long journey and who knew how many enemies ahead of them. He had to be sparing with magic where he could.
So, he drew his sword, swiped at the stinger’s antennae, then rammed the blade into the eye of the beast. Its scream was worse than its smell, but it did let go, giving Ash free reign to rake his talons through its wings. Down it went, shrieking the whole way.
Ash swooped down then up, weaving so as not to be caught again. They saw Pyra and Talia dispatch another foe. The final stinger fled.
Holt desired to hunt it down. His blood was hot – both from the heat of battle and the burn of the bond – but Ash’s thoughts collided with his own.
“Talia says we go. We shouldn’t chase it into a trap.”
“Fine,” Holt said. And Ash changed course again, heading south in Pyra’s wake.
While the world they’d left behind had enjoyed the light of dawn, the world ahead suffered in darkness. Heavy clouds covered the skies. Given what they now knew of the origins of the scourge, it made sense that the bugs and ghouls would seek cover where they could.
Holt wondered whether this always happened when the true swarm gathered or whether Silas’s mastery over storms granted the enemy additional benefits.
More stingers harried them on their journey south, never more than a handful at a time, but their buzzing never seemed far away.
Until in the distance they saw it. The swarm.
It could only have been the edge of the scourge forces, for the dark mass came together in a jagged edge but stretched off west as far as Holt could see. And he could see for a long way this high up. A veritable cloud of stingers swirled far off too, gathering in a writhing spiral above a small hill.
The hill moved. Holt blinked. His eyes had deceived him. The small ‘hill’ sprouted wings of its own. A giant bug. It had to be the Queen of the swarm.
Pyra and Talia banked to the south-east and climbed higher. Ash followed.
“We’ve to go through the clouds.”
Holt held on, watching as Pyra disappeared as though into smoke. Soon he and Ash passed through the clouds too. Holt expected to emerge wet or at least damp, but not a drop of water touched him. He did breathe in, without thinking, and nearly choked on the noxious air. Whatever these clouds were, they were not natural.
Yet once through the heavy clouds, the air was clean and the sun bright. It may have been too bright had the sunlight reflected off the clouds below, but these dark masses seemed to ensnare the light instead.
Pyra settled into a gentler, gliding flight and Ash followed suit. They fell in beside each other, close enough that Talia could shout over to him.
“With any luck they won’t find us up here, at least until we have to descend.”
“That swarm—” Holt began.
“Is enormous, I know,” Talia said. “All the more reason we can’t stop now. Sidastra needs to be warned the attack is imminent.”
“How will we find the city up here?” Holt asked. The black clouds seemed to stretch on forever.
“I’m assuming those clouds have been conjured to cover the approach of the swarm,” Talia said. “By following them south we can’t go far wrong. Once we see the end of them, the city will be close, but I don’t want to risk dipping down below often to check. Better to overshoot and then circle back around in any case. Less chance of running into scourge that way.”
Holt nodded, feeling surprisingly comforted. Whatever Talia might think about her readiness, she could lead well and decisively when required. Her plan made sense in any case. He dearly hoped they wouldn’t run into any more scourge on their way and yet Rake’s words, and Talia’s reminder this morning, made him feel guilty for thinking it. Guilty for being afraid. Well, he’d have to face more and worse soon.
Even now, Holt could feel the bond beat like a fiery drum. Its edges seared outward, growing painfully inside his soul. The whole bond trembled as he looked inward to it. A worrying sign.
“Hey, boy, think you can keep straight without seeing? With the fight this morning and then the stingers, I think it might be wise to stop sense- sharing for a while, if you can manage.”
“I can. If only I could aim ’straight’,” Ash added in a rare moment of sourness. He growled and rallied at once, shaking his head from side to side. “I will train. I shall conquer this just like Master Rake.”
“You will,” Holt said and then he let the connection fade.
The world lost some of its luster as his senses returned to those of a human, yet his head swam less from the intensity of it. There truly were benefits and curses with every aspect of being a rider. He’d been starry eyed indeed to think otherwise.
Still, now he could fly.
Unfortunately, the pain in his leg returned in full force too. He checked on the rudimentary bandaging. Talia’s work had held up well so far, but he tightened the knot all the same. Out of habit now he checked to ensure the recipe book was still there in his satchel and felt it there, reassuringly solid.
Sighing, he settled into their journey, his thoughts turning from everything from his father to the best place to hit a stinger with his Lunar Shock. He supposed he’d find his father soon enough in the capital or else he might see him on the battlefield as a ghoul, beyond the help of even Ash’s magic. One or the other, it seemed. Neither prospect excited nor horrified him – they were both so distant, even now. And it would not fully hit him until he knew.
As for stingers, it seemed the best place to hit one – beyond its head – would be the pinched waist between its upper body and the fatter abdomen. That must sever easier. The abdomen on the stinger he’d hit earlier had taken damage, but it had withstood his blast. As he ranked up, that would change but even lunar magic wouldn’t help him if he wasn’t skilled and capable with it.
He wondered when he’d be able to empower his sword with magic, as Talia frequently did. Would he need a special rider’s blade like her? New Ascendant’s journeyed to Falcaer Fortress for their weapons. He would craft one himself in time, once he ranked up and took the oath.
Yet that thought only brought him more anxiety. Why? Why did that decision feel like another looming battle? He’d been so eager to swear it to Brode, yet now, now he wasn’t so sure.
The day wore on. At length, the blue imprint of mountains arose on the eastern horizon. They had to be the edge of the Red Range which bordered and separated the three kingdoms of Feorlen, Risalia and Brenin. Only last year another war had been fought there, Holt knew, as so many had been before. The war which claimed King Godric’s life.
Holt looked to Talia. She too faced the mountains and did so for a long time. He couldn’t see her face and he reckoned that was on purpose.
When he had heard that King Godric had fallen in the final battle for the Toll Pass, the news had washed over him as though a kitchenhand had dumped more dishes into his basin. Now, he felt quite differently about it. Talia was his friend. She’d lost a lot in those faint blue mountains and even more since.
Brode had been right yet again. Who did have it harder between the two of them?
The afternoon sun turned dark orange before Talia called to him again. “The clouds aren’t breaking.”
Holt checked the horizon directly ahead. He felt he could see, very dimly, the dusky sky beyond the black and gray edge of cloud.
“You sure?” he called back.
“Those mountains mean we’ve crossed over Lake Luriel. We’re probably flying over the middle of city right now, but those clouds look like they go all the way over to the banks of the East Weald.” She craned her neck as though to get a better look at the endless weather. Sitting back down, she shook her head. “We’ll need to descend.”
“Can’t we fly farther east and get away from the clouds?” Holt asked. “Then come back in under them with the city in sight?”
“I won’t have us take another day,” Talia said. “I want us in the city before nightfall and we don’t have much time now.”
Holt nodded, and patted Ash on his neck. They had already started the sense-sharing incantation when Talia called out,
“I’ll go first.”
She drew her sword and Pyra slid gracefully down through the clouds and out of sight.
The moment the sense-sharing started; Holt felt the dragon bond quiver. That could not be good. And he’d only just adjusted to the sensory information when Pyra’s voice screamed into his mind.
“They’re everywhere – dive now. Don’t stop!”
Holt clasped at his head from the intensity of it and had barely registered Pyra’s warning when stingers emerged through the black clouds. More than stingers came this time. Great hulking beetle-like bugs that looked as armored as knights; countless infected birds – seagulls chief among them – all buzzing and squalling.
Worst of all, there came a scourge risen dragon.
What type the dragon had been in life, Holt couldn’t say. Its scales were gray-green and discolored now; its body so thin that its ribcage could be seen through its hide. Bile ran from its dead eyes and a ghostly power gathered at its open mouth.
Ash dove.
Holt sucked in a breath before they broke the clouds. His world became darkness. Enemies pursued on all sides.
They emerged to worse. Hundreds upon hundreds of dark figures flew toward them. Below, Pyra and Talia blazed a fiery trail, seeking the safety of the white city walls. Ash followed through. Holt cried out as a heat wave struck his face. He ducked as low as he dared but the smoke made his eyes stream and sting.
Ash poured lunar energy out, twisting his head from to side to side but whether he hit anything in the mad rush Holt never saw. He himself raised both hands and began blasting out Lunar Shocks as fast as he could and pressed his legs so tight into Ash that his right leg might have fallen off from the pain of it. Fresh blood wet the bindings on his wound.
He lost the ability to think. Everything was pain, shrieking, roaring, light, fire and burning – not just from Talia’s magic but from his bond. His soul was on fire. The bond beat so hard this time it really did crack a rib. Holt gasped, unable to breathe—
And still they dove – down, down, down, hurtling with ever greater speed until a roar cut above all else. Holt recognized that dragon.
Clesh. Clesh and Silas were on them now.
And just as all seemed lost, great thwacking sounds joined the cacophony. Long bolts with glinting steel heads blasted from the city, rapid as arrow fire.
Scourge scattered. Their path cleared.
Sheer white walls rose as though up from the dark waters of the lake. Torches flickered through the crenellations and helmets reflected the
firelight like so many candles. Large ballistae dotted the battlements, more powerful than those at Fort Kennet had been, each launching a thick bolt to cover their descent.
In seconds, the space between them and the walls closed. Clesh roared louder.
Holt clung on with all his might and then they reached the walls, passed over them, pulled up hard and missed the buildings on the other side by a hair.
Pyra carried on, and Ash followed, leaving this island outpost behind to glide low over the lake and land hard on a grassy bank. Holt was thrown violently from Ash. He hit the grass and rolled badly – crunching bones and muscle as he went.
At last he stopped. Lying on his back, he stared at the chaos of the blackened sky. His sense-sharing with Ash had ended but he could just discern dark outlines soaring in all directions, growing fainter as they escaped the range of Sidastra’s defenses.
A final roar from Clesh carried across the lake. Silver-blue lighting struck somewhere out of his sight. A flicker of red and orange rose. A fire. Holt thought the Storm Lord would swoop down, sweeping all defenses aside in his hunt of them. But one strike was all the retribution he carried out.
Once Holt realized they had made it, he also realized he wasn’t breathing. He tried to shout for Talia, but his voice had abandoned him. His limbs were numb to his will. He felt nothing. With the last of his strength, he reached out for Ash.
“Help.”
But Ash did not answer.
Panic took him. Ash would never ignore him. Never leave him. That could only mean – no, no it could not mean that.
He twitched, then his body started undulating there on the grass. His skin sizzled, a smell like burning wood engulfed him. Was he burning? It felt like it. His soul was still ablaze and now the rest of him must be too.
Voices called. Boots thumped nearby. Another roar. Then Ash was beside him, baring his teeth at people Holt could not see.
Ash was here. That much he knew for sure, even as all else spun out into haze and blackness. All the fear in Holt vanished. Ash was here.
“I’m with you. Hold on.”
And with his words came a memory, a memory of breaking through a tough shell, feeling cool air for the first time and smelling damp straw. Only all was dark and frightening. Stumbling, lost, meaty smells he loved but could not find. Then there came a voice – Holt’s own voice – light and echoing as though in a dream.
“It will be all right. Come here. Follow my voice. It will be all right.”
The voice was everything, and when the owner of the voice ran a warm hand down his back, he knew he would be okay.
Ash’s comfort overwhelmed the pain, and the memory kept looping, his own words mixed with Ash’s.
“It will be all right…”
“I’m with you…”
“It will be all right…” “Holt! Holt!”
That voice was sharper than the others. Closer. “Wake up, Holt!”
His eyes burst open. Dull gray light greeted him with all the delicacy of a heavy pan crashing to the floor. He gasped, caught his breath, and found Talia slumped in a chair in the corner of the room. She had changed her clothes, and great dark bags hung under her eyes but otherwise she looked unhurt.
She beamed at him. “Thought we might have lost you there in the transition. You looked broken like a rag doll and had lost so much blood.”
“Trans—what?” Holt rasped, still trying to get a grip on where he was. Just like after Midbell, he seemed to have passed out and now found himself on a plush bed. He made another personal vow to never let that happen again either. “Where’s Ash? What happened?”
“Ash is fine. Pyra is too, they’re getting food. We made it. For now.” She continued to beam at him, and he didn’t have the faintest idea why. “How does it feel?” she asked.
“What feel? Huh?”
A gentle presence ran over his soul. Flushing as though caught naked, he quickly looked inward to inspect himself. To his relief he discovered his soul was no longer on fire. In fact, it felt incredible. The dragon bond beat. Slow. Assured. Powerful.
Talia leaned forward, still grinning. “Welcome to the rank of Ascendant, Holt.”
