“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly, backing away from her. “I...I can’t stay. I have to go. Now.”
Before she could protest, he started to change. At the same time, he turned and ran for the lip, launching himself into the air on a mighty gust of wind.
Christine raced after him, stopping short of taking to the skies after him. But she watched in awe as he became a brilliant blue dragon, his shield-sized scales matching the sapphire brilliance of his eyes from a moment before. He flapped them once, twice, then disappeared up into the cloudy sky at a pace she would have been hard-pressed to keep up with.
She rested her hands on the stone railing, staring after him, lost in thought.
Where did I go wrong?
Chapter Eighteen
Altair
HE WAS BACK ON DRACIA.
Creeping forward, he peered around the corner, using the wind to ensure his scent didn’t travel, and to mask all sound of his passage. There were Infected sentries everywhere, and if he wanted to get past their lines to freedom, he would have to be extremely careful.
The street beyond seemed clear, and he eased into it, eyes darting ahead, scouting out his path to the next bit of cover, another ruined building. Wood and stone were crumbled everywhere, the cobblestone road filled with huge chunks that had been blasted out from it.
Altair hadn’t been around for the Battle of Allicean, but by all accounts, the dragon forces had put up a hell of a fight, holding off the Infected hordes for three days. But in the end, they had broken, a lightning strike breaking the lines and eliminating the command center in one fell swoop.
The defense had fallen into disarray at that point, and many of the people left in the city hadn’t gotten out.
That was where Altair’s team came in. They were tasked with infiltrating the enemy-occupied city and retrieving the holdouts. In this case, a group of children.
He knew that Dracia was going to fall. The planet was nearly overrun, only a few cities were left now, and rumor had it that everyone was being ordered to fall back to Fortress Glacis, for a last-ditch attempt to save their race.
Altair wasn’t sure what could be done at this point, but he wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet, not while he had an ounce of fight left in him. If the elders had a plan to save their species somehow, then he would give it the best fighting chance it had.
Which meant saving the children.
The bulk of the Infected army—if one could even call their near mindless hordes an army—had moved on, heading toward Vinadriel, the capital of the north. Hundreds of thousands of dragons awaited them there. Altair hoped to be done with his mission and return in time to fight by his kin’s side.
But to do that, he had to escape unscathed. Easing his way through the city, he darted from one rubble pile to the next, passing by sentries undetected. He’d performed many missions like this over the last few months as the Dracians suffered defeat after defeat. All of them successful, and he intended for that to continue today.
Reaching the entrance to the hidden underground cellars where he had been told the children were hiding out, Altair tapped on the door, using the universal code of his people, something the Infected hadn’t picked up on yet it seemed.
The air swirled tightly around him, disrupting soundwaves and keeping him covered in total silence. It took a lot of energy, but far less than battling one of his Infected kin. There was a pause, and then the door slid open.
A sword blade of frigid ice sliced out, angling for his chin, but stopped an inch short by a barrier of air that it couldn’t penetrate.
“Easy,” he said, staring down the owner. “Easy. I’m here to help. To get you out of here.”
The owner, a youth no more than sixteen, relaxed, and the sword faded away.
“You’re a credit to the Frost Clan,” Altair said, acknowledging the youth’s command of his powers, powers he’d only just come into as he matured into a full dragon. Not many of his age could forge a sword already.
The youth sagged. “We’re saved,” he said.
“Come on, bring the others,” Altair urged. “There’s no time for introductions. You come with me. You do as I do, and I promise, we’ll get you out of here alive. But only if you do as I say without hesitation or question. Got it?”
The youth nodded and began ushering out the others from the shelter. There were seven all told.
Only seven? Altair had been told upward of thirty in his location alone.
“Where are the others?” he hissed. They didn’t have time for this.
The youth bowed his head, eyes glancing back down the tunnel. He shook his head. “One of them was Infected without our knowing. We...” He shuddered and began to cry.
Altair knew what had happened, what the youth must have done. He reached out to grab the young dragon shifter by the shoulders. “We all have demons we must deal with. But now is not the time. Now we fight for our race, for our future. Once the fight is over, then we can mourn the lost, and the things we had to do to save those around us.”
They headed out into the ruins. Altair was moving as fast as he dared, but it had taken him longer to reach the group than he’d planned, and now they were behind. Not by much, there should be time to reach the edge of the city, but—
Altair whirled as far behind them, on the other side of Allicean, something exploded.
“No!” he hissed. It was too early. Too soon! He wasn’t ready.
“Hurry,” he hissed. “We must go, now.”
The entire city would be up in alarm, Infected moving toward the source of the noise. The sentries would no longer be simply standing on rooftops, but they would be looking for the cause of the explosion.
Their
