Frozen

ship’s guns met their mark. A rocket shell tore the drakon’s wing and the clouds glowed a fiery red once more.

Down below, Nat collapsed on the deck.

50

“HIT! I’M HIT!” SHE WHISPERED, holding her arm.

“Nat!”

Wes was by her side. “Nat!”

“The guns! You have to stop their guns!” she told him.

“Right—what was I thinking—just waiting for you guys to save our skins—Shakes! Farouk! Roark! Brendon! The guns!”

They’d never match the naval firepower, but Wes guessed they wouldn’t have to. Not with that thing—Nat’s drakon—on their side. A few of the remaining ships had open gunners on their decks. The soldiers sat behind heavy artillery shields, but he could still see glimpses of them as they trained and rotated their guns to follow the creature.

Wes grabbed his sniper’s rifle and climbed to the highest point of his ship. He motioned to Shakes. “Hold my leg and try to steady me; I need to get a clear shot at these guys.”

“But, boss, you’d be totally exposed.”

Wes knew he was right, the gunners were distracted by the drakon, but as soon as he fired, they’d turn their attention to him and he’d be a sitting duck. But he needed the height to get a clear shot and he’d just have to take his chances afterward.

Wes turned to his targets. He aimed low on the first shot and put a bullet through the hand of the first gunner. The second gunner spun toward Wes. He was manning a gun big enough to obliterate anything within a yard of him. The soldier smiled at Wes, wanting to let him know he was going to enjoy cutting him into shreds.

But Wes didn’t respond; instead he fired, and the bullet pierced the man’s armor before he could reach for the trigger. There’s always just a fraction of a second between life and death, Wes thought. Take every second you can.

With the sky cleared of gunfire, the drakon reappeared beside Alby. Its wing had healed, and it was beating glorious waves of air as it hovered above the water, its torso casting a jagged shadow before it descended to the deck.

The ship tilted as it received the creature’s weight. The drone of battle faded, and for a moment the crew stood, captivated by the drakon.

Its breath was like a whirlwind, raspy and strong like a hundred men sucking in air at once. Deck plates buckled and screws unwound from their fastenings—the creature was as heavy as stone. It drew in its mighty wings and lowered its head with a thud that shook the deck.

* * *

Nat knew what came next; she just needed the nerve to go through with it. The moment was surreal and stretched for what felt like minutes. She looked at the crew, who smiled at her hopefully. Liannan nodded, and Wes was the one who offered his knee for her to step on, to climb.

He took her hand and hoisted her up. “Give them hell,” he whispered in her ear, his eyes shining with admiration.

The drakon turned its neck, and Nat climbed onto his back, digging her heels against its side. When she reached his neck, the creature’s thick shoulder muscles adjusted to her weight, giving her a seat upon its mighty spine. She gripped its hard scales, and the drakon pushed off with a force that nearly tore her from its back.

Smoke filled her eyes as they soared upward. The cold wind rushed at her cheeks and in a moment they were above the battle. In one glance she could see the whole scene, laid out like a photo on a page. She saw the remaining ships rocking in the great black waters, the long sea of ice, and the brilliant fringes of the small green island.

From this height, the earth looked different—flatter, and even the noise from the battle was muted. They were so high in the sky they were invisible to the ship’s guns. The gray smoke covered them, and Nat held on tightly. She felt the drakon’s muscles contracting with each flap of its mighty wings.

The creature inhaled a mighty breath—its long muscular torso flexing beneath her—and her lungs, too, filled with fire once more.

“To battle!” Nat screamed, and the drakon surged upward so quickly that her hands ripped away and she fell from its back and she was flying.

She was airborne, just like that night at MacArthur when she had jumped out of the window. This was the same, and as she glided through the air, she felt no fear.

She could do this. She could fly.

She called to her drakon again and willed it to come to her. She caught it by the neck but they were moving too fast and her fingers gripped his scales for the briefest moment before her momentum pulled her away. She fell downward, but once again she was not afraid.

Drakon Mainas, to me, she urged, as the sea rose up to meet her.

Just as she was about to fall into the water, the drakon appeared beneath her and she slammed into its back. She righted herself and dug her feet into its hide.

They circled for a moment, then plunged toward the remaining ships.

Breathe deeply. We will need all our strength. Now exhale, Drakon Mainas directed.

Nat felt the same dark fire suffocate her throat, but she did not fight it, she breathed it in. Drakonfire. As she exhaled, a wild blue flame burst from the drakon’s mouth, covering the largest supercarrier in a swirling iridescent blue blaze.

They turned to the stealth cruiser next. Its surface was perfectly smooth and sleek, and the drakon bathed the entire ship in a flame so hot that the oxygen around the ship ignited in a wild orange fireball. The ship’s armored exterior contracted like shrink wrap—the hatches fell inward, the guns warped, and the windows slid from their frames.

The drakon roared its joy and flew higher and faster. With Nat directing its movements, when it flew back down to attack the remaining ships, it was able to evade the torrent of gunfire with a new and surprising agility. Nat held on with all her might, and the drakon’s spikes cut into her hands, but she felt no pain.

They exhaled together once more, and the blue flame bathed the final warship in a blinding cone of fire. The dark water boiled, clouds vaporized, the air crackled. As the ship sunk, its myriad guns let loose with a final volley. Shells sprayed in all directions.

A single explosive round cut through the drakon’s chest, piercing not just the creature’s flesh, but Nat’s as well.

The two tumbled, falling toward the sandy beach as the last warship sank into the fiery sea.

51

WES’S CREW CHEERED AS THE FINAL cruiser sank into the ocean. The smoke began to clear. The drakon had done its work. Wes scoured the sky and the sea for the drakon but saw nothing. They had stopped the armada, but at what cost?

The waters surrounding them swirled with blue flames as the ocean’s chemical sludge caught on fire.

“Where is she? Where’s Nat?” Wes demanded.

Shakes held up the binoculars but shook his head.

“Come on, take us to the shore,” Wes ordered.