Page 102 of Veiled Flames
I’ve never seen the veil up close. It shimmers and ripples like fabric, extending in every dimension as far as my eyes can see, and the boundaries of my sight are so much farther while I’m bonded to Xendus. The veil reaches up to the Great Beyond and stretches across the entire expanse of the Veraxian mountains. I’ve seen only the highest parts of the veil from camp. From a distance, the section that rises above the mountain peaks blends in with the sky.
The rupture is higher than five castle turrets built atop each other, but its width seems constrained. Two dragons are positioned on each side of the gash, flames erupting from their mouths in near continuous streams. The dragon fire is narrowing the gap—or at least preventing its widening.
Darkness cascades through the hole. But I realize some of what I’m perceiving as Darkness is swarms of demons. Demons so black they seem like holes in the air, flashing sporadically with fire.
The vile creatures move like flying snakes, although more erratically than any snake I’ve seen. At times they dive in long inky streams, but then wings emerge from their sides, beating as they change direction. Not that they need their wings to change direction. These monsters don’t seem to obey any laws of nature. While I can only describe their swooping motions as dives, the rapid maneuvers occur in all directions, as if the evil creatures are able to fall straight up and plummet to the sides.
I urge Xendus to take us closer, and he does. Although our focus remains primarily on Saxon and Surath, vivid details emerge, almost as if Xendus had been preventing me from seeing clearly up to this point.
Bright red eyes glow from the heads of the demons, and their mouths open to expose fire erupting through at least three jagged rows of teeth. The sight chills me. I grew up surrounded by brutal cruelty, but I’m witnessing pure evil for the very first time.
Ersot, Treacher’s dragon, burns a path through the horde, incinerating the demons within his fire’s reach. Atop him, Treacher wields two broad swords, swinging them like scythes, mowing down any demons that evade Ersot’s flames. As the evilbeasts’ heads are severed, the sound is like acid poured in my ears, and bright red flames burst from their bodies. Once felled, the creatures plummet to the ground, landing like globs of thick pitch.
Smoke rises from the black ooze of their carcasses, and the smell of sulphur wafts toward me so strongly I wish I had something to cover my nose.
Between me and the veil, a line of five archers sits on their dragons, aiming their oil tipped arrows through the arcs of their dragon’s breath. Demons who pass the first lines of defense, are slain by these flaming arrows.
I itch to join in the battle, but I sense my dragon’s hesitation, and I lack proper weapons, save the two broad swords strapped on my back. Frustration grows inside me, and it’s hard to differentiate whether it’s mine or my dragon’s.
Saxon breaks away from the others, chasing a demon who broke past the front lines. Surath swoops at an angle so drastic I fear she’ll crash into the ground, but Saxon beheads the demon, and the monster lands in a gelatinous blob of smoking vileness.
Relief floods me that far outweighs any emotion I feel for Saxon. If he perished, my life would be easier in so many ways.
A wave of understanding strikes. Some of what I’m feeling isn’t my concern for Saxon, it’s Xendus’ concern for a fellow dragon. Xendus cares about what happens to Surath, not Saxon.
Surath and Saxon make a swooping turn toward the breach, and a thick black line slithers toward them from above.
I gasp. A massive horde of demons snuck past the archers and are diving toward Saxon and Surath en masse. I don’t think either dragon or rider has noticed.
I must warn them.
Xendus races, moving at three times the speed I’ve experienced thus far. His fire-filled breath fills my vision, and the shrieks of slain demons assault my ears.
Saxon and Surath realize what’s happening, and she joins Xendus to breathe fire upon the demons.
One breaks away from the pack and circles around, as if preparing to attack Saxon from behind—his only true blind spot while atop Surath. Hers too. Concentrating, I ask for Xendus’s help.
We dive toward it. Letting go of the saddle horns and trusting his knot to secure me, I grab both swords off my back. Xendus can’t use his fire from this angle, not without incinerating Surath and Saxon. Perhaps just Saxon. Roule taught us that dragons can withstand small measures of fire from their own kind. Humans cannot.
I sense that Xendus is about to exhale. That he’d do anything to protect Surath even if it means killing her rider.
“Trust me,” I call out to my dragon. “I’m good with my swords.”
He swoops me in close, but I swing too soon and miss the demon as it swerves at the last moment. But its change in direction also took it off its path toward Saxon.
Saxon spots me and frowns, waving me off.
But Xendus and I are determined, as if my dragon is encouraging me to try again. Or perhaps it’s the other way around.
Surath and Saxon soar upward, the demon in pursuit, and Xendus makes a sharp turn. His knot strains inside my body, but I remain secure as he lines me up for another attempt.
The demon swerves too. It’s coming straight at me now, and fear nearly takes over. The creature opens its maw, giving me a clear view of its rows of sharp teeth, dripping with what looks like rotted meat. The stench of sulphur and rot overwhelm me.
This time I won’t swing too soon. This time I’ll wait.
The demon is so close now I feel its evil. Its eyes are formed from fire, and a chill washes through me.
The moment it’s within striking distance, I swing.
