“She keeps calling for you,” I read. “She demands to know the truth…”
Apprehension made it difficult to breathe. A quick look at the map—a large cluster of yellow at the Dragerian-Carthesian border. I told Mettalise what I’d seen and read. *Merram will go to the Kyer alone. There’s too many enemies at the front for him to divide our forces.*
Unease from Mettalise. *We don’t have many fighting dragons at the Kyer. Are you sure? Rose happened days and days ago. Surely Shamino has sent a report by now.*
*He sends non-urgent summaries to Merram by horse.* A horse courier had little hope against an enemy dragon. I did some quick calculations. I didn’t like the results. *If Thorkel sent this the day I left the Kyer, Merram will be leaving the front today.*
I stood to study the map. *Courier dragons between the Kyer and the front are missing. And here—how many dragons did you see leave? This shows at least twenty.*
*I’m afraid that’s right. Thorkel’s crimson led the Flight.*
At Mettalise’s words, the vision slammed into me so strongly I fell to the floor.
A crimson dragon flies like an arrow over the mountains. Thorkel, his rings glittering, smiles with satisfied hatred. The background blurs like a Transportation spell as time passes—Thorkel lands on the Dragonmaster’s platform. It is time. It is time to end this...
The vision faded and hope bloomed in my chest. There was no chance we could overtake Thorkel—or that Mettalise could take on twenty dragons by herself. But the vision meant that my decision mattered. My actions had to change something.
*We’re going to rescue Merram,* I told Mettalise. I pushed myself from the floor and—
A Carthesian stood in the doorway, his eyes as wide as my own. Had I been such a fluffbrain that I’d left the door open?
The startled man recovered and shouted in Carthesian.
Pigshitting weasel snouts. I threw up a shield as the Carthesian swung his sword. He cursed as it recoiled off air. He gave the sword a shake and black fire snaked down the blade—this time it sliced neatly through my shield and grazed my upper arm.
“You cut me,” I said with shock. Normally men with swords wanted to hurt their opponents, but I’d thought Thorkel would have left instructions not to harm me.
He swung again and I dodged. As I did so, I sent out a blast of warm air—a little heat made air spells much easier—and his sword spun out of his hands.
I smiled. I never expected real fighting to be, well, fun.
The Carthesian scowled and a black cloud formed between us. As it sped toward me, I formed white-hot flames on the floor. The cloud shot to the ceiling, and I mentally thanked the farmers I’d grown up with for talking about weather all the time. I ceased the flames and pulled heat from the clouds. Black ice began to fall.
Without thinking, I used a burst of heated air to shove the cloud backward toward the mage.
Past the man, Carthesians filled the hallway. They halted as my opponent began to scream. Black drops of rain splattered his skin, and smoke curled from each drop. He staggered, holding his face in his hands, and his screams grew higher pitched.
“First One, I’m sorry—” I took a step toward him as if I could help in some way. He slumped to the ground. The liquid ate through his robe and shirt and the skin peeled away—
The other Carthesians began to shout and move. In panic I magically shoved the dying man through the doorway, slammed the door with air, and spun.
Window. I could escape through the window. I pushed the shutters—they stuck—I blasted them with Incineration, set the wooden floor behind me on fire as I climbed out.
*Mettalise, I am outside and running. Where are you?*
*Northeast. I’ll take out the dragon now.*
I crashed into brush, thankful for the night. Cries came from the house and, through the window, flames blazed. I wondered if they had tried to get past the acid pool or were coming a different way. It didn’t matter. My job was to run.
A root tripped me. I cursed the night as I fell headfirst into bramble. I scrambled free, ignoring scratches, and cast Light. It made me a target, but it wouldn’t do to impale myself on a tree branch. I made the Light smaller and lower to the ground before running again.
A roar shattered the night like thunder.
*Mettalise! Can’t you attack quietly?*
*Like that pathetic roar was mine. My guard is dead.* There was no remorse, only smugness.
Her smugness bothered me. Not a single scrap of remorse came from my dragon. Meanwhile, horror of what I’d done threatened to paralyze me at any moment. Then again, I hadn’t been born with pointy teeth and spines.
*He was an idiot,* Mettalise said as she experienced my feelings. *He joined the wrong side and underestimated me. Most of all, I couldn’t let him hurt you. Thus, dead.*
I burst into a clearing—an enormous clearing, one that could have hidden many dragons under Illusion. Now it only held Mettalise and the corpse of a dragon so deep a purple it was black in moonlight. Dark ruts marred the ground beside Mettalise—she’d been cleaning her claws.
Mettalise thrust out her leg. *Hurry! The shackle.*
I heard them, too: humans running in the brush. Only they made less sound than I had, so they were surely following a path—not what I needed to be thinking about. I went to Mettalise.
The shackle was as wide as my waist and made out of a metal I didn’t recognize. It connected with chain to a rod thrust deep into the earth. I ran a finger along the cold surface. No keyhole. Not even a forge line. “How’d they get it on?”
*I assume magic. I was unconscious.* Her muscles
