Page 84 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
—He flies well,he admitsreluctantly.
I nod, watching the Commander’s rigid posture. Her bun doesn’t loosen, not even now. Her standard goggles are strapped securely, while I create a small Wind Wall in front of my face to divert current. Zephyros has no supply saddles, no equipment for me to wear. The way she handles Indrax, guiding him with subtle shifts of her weight rather than relying solely on the Tether is something they lecture about at the Academy, but few unbounded riders master it with such precision.
Before she was Commander Voltguard, she was just Cora, a mere Skybolt who worked her way to Prime of the Skybolt Clutch, then High Prime, and for the last five years, Commander of the entire Sky Order. Every female rider at the Academy learns her trajectory. She’s a legend among us.
I remember sitting with wide eyes as our instructors told us how, during the Battle of Broken Peaks, Voltguard faced the Matron herself. The Screechclaw queen had cornered twenty riders against the cliffs, her harpies swarming like insects. Voltguard, then just a Prime, flew Indrax straight into the heart of the swarm. She created a lightning sphere so powerful it vaporized forty Screechclaws instantly, turning them to ash that rained down on the battlefield. The sphere expanded outward in pulsing waves, each one catching more of the enemy, until over a hundred lay dead and the Matron herself retreated.
No one had ever generated that much electric power before. They say the air smelled of metal and burnt flesh for days afterward. And she isn’t even bonded to Indrax.
I study her now, trying to reconcile the legend with the stern woman who seems determined to deliver me to the King. What does she really think of me? A troublemaker? A murderess? Or something worse, a danger to the realm she’s spent her life protecting?
After several hours of flight—almost to Emberton—the Commander suddenly banks Indrax toward a forest clearing near a winding river. I follow, curious about this sudden stop when we’re so close to our destination.
Voltguard doesn’t hesitate at the descent. She creates a column of crackling electricity that shoots from her fingertips to the ground below—a perfect lightning column of power. With practiced efficiency, she casts a wooden shield onto the electric current, steps onto it, and releases her Tethers. She drops with breathtaking speed, the electricity guiding her shield downward while keeping her boots from being singed. The lightning illuminates the clearing in flashes of brilliant blue-white, reflecting off the river’s surface like fragments of shattered sky.
Not to be outdone, I summon my own element. Wind spirals beneath my feet, forming a controlled column of my own that lowers me to the ground with precision. My Vortex Drop kicks up leaves and debris, swirling them around me in a miniature storm as I descend. I land with barely a sound, my boots touching earth as the wind disperses.
The dragons sweep away, crossing the river with powerful wing strokes before settling on the opposite bank. Zephyros dips his massive head to drink, our bond alive with his vigilance.
“Here.” Voltguard thrusts a canteen at me, followed by a packet wrapped in waxed paper. “You need to eat.”
“I can’t wait until I put some meat on my bones and everyone stops telling me that.” I grab the offered items, aware of my parched throat and hollow stomach despite my complaints. “Thanks. Why the stop?”
“Because we need to talk before we reach Emberton,” she says, her expression grave.
My fingers freeze on the canteen lid. Whatever this is, it isn’t good.
“Did you kill Cindergrasp?” Voltguard asks, the question tears through the still clearing like a lightning she wields.
“No.” I lie without hesitation, my face perfectly blank. The word slips past my lips with practiced ease, smooth like silk.
Without even meaning to, I extend my consciousness toward her, my Weaver abilities unfurling like invisible tendrils. I touch the edges of her mind, not deep enough to read specific thoughts, but enough to sense her emotions, her belief or disbelief.
Relief washes through her. She believes me completely.
I withdraw quickly, guilt pricking at me even as satisfaction settles in my chest. Lies protect me. They always have. The truth is a luxury for people who don’t have blood on their hands, who don’t hold secrets punishable by death.
Voltguard nods once, her posture relaxing slightly. “Good. That simplifies matters.”
“You don’t know what the King wants with me, do you?” I ask, taking a long drink from the canteen.
“No.” She sits on a fallen log, suddenly looking older.
I unwrap the piece of jerky from the paper and tear off a piece.
“But I want you to know something, Wyndward. Whatever happens in Emberton, I’ll do what I can to help you.”
I nearly choke on the dry meat. “Why would you help me?”
Her eyes turn hard as flint. “Because I didn’t claw my way to Commander just to throw my people to the jackals when it’s convenient. I’ve seen too manyleaderssacrifice those beneath them to advance their own positions.”
I swallow my food thickly, afraid of what’s coming, what I might have to do to remain alive. “Is that what you think theKing might do? Sacrifice me?”
“I honestly don’t know what he wants.” She stares at her hands. “But I do know power makes men do terrible things, and you...” Her gaze sharpens. “You’ve become quite interesting to those in power.”
“Lucky me,” I mutter, crushing the empty waxed paper in my fist.
We mount our dragons again, the brief respite over. Voltguard’s words haunt me as we take to the skies, continuing our journey to the capital. Then Emberton appears on the horizon, perhaps my future prison, my gallows.
