Page 4 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
He roars—the sound echoing across the mountains like thunder—and dives toward the cluster of riders with killing speed.
—Where is my rider?he demands of the other dragons.
—Taken into the mountain, Notos replies.
—What nonsense is that?he growls.
Notos’s pointed snout turns toward him, wind swirling around the younger dragon’s scales. Without warning, images flood Zephyros’s mind—not words, but pure vision shared through their most primal draconic language.
The mountain splits like a cracked egg. Rock peels away as if the stone itself bleeds. A figure emerges from the depths, tall and obscured, with power that makes the air itself recoil. Rhealyn struggles against invisible bonds as the man pulls her close, her mouth open in a scream Zephyros cannot hear. Then wind swirls, lifting them both and darkness swallows them whole as the earth seals shut.
By all the stars!
Zephyros’s silver eyes burn as the visions fade. Below, three figures hack at the solid surface like insects gnawing at a boulder. The Stormsong whelp leads them, his wind magic pointlessly blowing debris away. Beside him, two Skydunes poundtheir earth magic against the mountain, their effort useless as the rock knits itself.
He circles lower, trying to comprehend. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this helpless, though the echoing emotions from his past are nearly as terrible. His rider, stolen by some dark phantom while he gorged himself on elk.
Zephyros roars his pain, then banks sharply and plummets toward the mountainside, the sound splitting the air and making the Skyriders cover their ears. The sound reverberates off stone faces, sending rockslides tumbling into distant valleys. He doesn’t spare a glance for the humans scrambling below. Let them dodge him or be crushed.
His obsidian talons strike the rock face with enough force to shatter granite. Sparks fly as claw meets stone, the impact jarring through his bones. But the mountain barely acknowledges his assault. A few pebbles skitter down the slope. Nothing more.
Impossible.
He strikes again, putting all his fury behind the blow. His talons, sharp enough to slice through dragon scale, leave only faint scratches on the surface. The bedrock pulses with an energy that makes his scales crawl, pushing back against his strength like a living thing.
Terrible power hums in the air. Not the Stormsong’s wind magic or the simple earth-shaping of the Skydunes. This resonates deeper, older. It tastes of starlight and forgotten oaths, of power that ruled when the world was young, beyond memory.
He has never felt magic like this since?—
No. It can’t be.
But the resemblance claws at the back of his mind, feeling like a half-healed wound. The same otherworldly strength that once commanded respect from every dragon alive. The sameforce that vanished without explanation over a thousand years ago, leaving them all orphaned and lost. He’s almost sure of it.
Zephyros backs away from the rock face, silver eyes narrowing. Below, the pathetic humans renew their futile scratching, unaware that they battle something far beyond their ability. Something that shouldn’t exist anymore.
Heratrix disappeared long ago. This has to be something else.
But even as he tells himself the lie, dread coils in his chest like an ever-tightening whirlwind. If old powers are stirring, if they’ve taken Rhealyn into their web of schemes and whatever divine madness took Heratrix, then all his strength means nothing.
Nothing!
He can’t even sense her through their bond, which he now suspects isn’t Rhealyn’s doing and only means someone more powerful is preventing him from contacting her.
The thought cuts deeper than any wound. So many years of solitude, and when he finally found her, the one creature who matters most to him might be lost because he chose hunger over vigilance.
3
Vaylen
Zephyros cuts through the sky, a beacon against the bruised canvas of the night sky. My hope flares, hot and fierce.
He’ll get to her.
Rhealyn’s dragon is bonded to her the way Fragor and I are bonded. That link is unlike anything else. He’ll find a way to her where our magic falls short.
“Cliffbecker, Stonefist, fall back!” My voice rings with renewed purpose, echoing off the impassive rock.
Zephyros descends, a predator diving for its prey. Obsidian claws rake the mountainside, tearing with a screech that vibrates the ground beneath my boots. Dust explodes outward. Heart pounding against my ribs, I wait for the fissure to reappear, for Rhealyn to stumble out, blinking, into the sudden light.
