Page 124 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
“This can’t be natural,” I murmur.
—It is not,Zephyros says, though his tone sounds as if he’s not so sure his recollection is correct.I think… I think his land was once as green as Embernia.
—You think?
He slightly shakes his head, which forces my Tethers to readjust—Something feels wrong right inside my head since you were in there.
—Did I do something wrong?
—No. I am sure it will pass.
I lean forward, studying the twisted landscape. Rivers run murky and sulfurous, cutting through terrain that resembles an open wound more than earth. No wonder the Screechclaws are so vicious if this is what they call home. Nothing grows here.
—If our land looked like this, I’d want to take someone else’s too,I admit.
—Look there,Zephyros says suddenly, his voice sharp with focus. His consciousness directs mine to a patch of withered trees near a sluggish, muddy river.
I squint against the sun. At first, I see nothing but shadows and dead foliage, then… movement. Subtle and calculated.
—I see them,I whisper, my pulse quickening. The Screechclaws are crawling low toward our border, their gray-blue skin blending perfectly with the ashen landscape as they move between skeletal trees.Clever bitches.
Fragor and Vaylen fly at the front, and I guide Zephyros into their line of sight. Vaylen looks my way, questioning. I flatten my hand, palm down, then point below with two fingers, making the circling motion we learned at the Academy. Enemies spotted, multiple targets, ground level.
His expression shifts to focused alertness. He nods once, then raises his fist to signal the others. My blood sings with anticipation.
—Ready for this?I ask Zephyros.
His answering growl vibrates through my entire body.—Always, little one.
Vaylen’s closed fist drops sharply, the signal to attack. My stomach lurches as Zephyros tucks his wings and plummets downward. The ground rushes up with terrifying speed, but fear turns to exhilaration as I lean forward, my body becoming one with his. Wind whips my face raw, and I bare my teeth in a feral grin, Tethers tight.
—Let’s show them!
The moment the Screechclaws realize we’ve spotted them, they burst from their hiding places. What looked like a small scouting party explodes into a swarm of at least two dozen harpies, their wings unfurling as they screech toward us.
“Dragon’s breath,” I hiss. “It’s a trap!”
Zephyros banks hard right as three Screechclaws launch themselves at us, curved blades glinting dully in the sunlight. I pull from deep within, summoning the wind that lives in my veins, the power that Zephyros helps intensify. Energy surges through me, intoxicating and fierce. I thrust my hands forward, sending a concentrated Wind Blast spinning into thenearest harpy. It catches her wing, twisting feathers and sinew until something snaps. Her shriek pierces the air as she spirals downward.
To my right, Omari runs down her dragon’s neck, electricity crackling between her fingertips. Lightning arcs from her hands, splitting into jagged tendrils that strike two Screechclaws simultaneously. The smell of burnt flesh fills the air.
“Behind you!” I shout as another harpy dives at Omari’s back.
Before she can turn, a metal spear pierces the creature’s chest. James Ironscale nods at her, his normally quiet demeanor transformed in battle. His dragon is outfitted with more than the saddlebags other Skyriders have. He carries enough sharp weapons to skewer an entire horde of these bitches.
Three Screechclaws converge on Vaylen, who meets them with ruthless efficiency. His wind forms invisible spears that slice through wings and limbs. Fragor roars, the sound reverberating across the battlefield. I can barely deploy one Wind Spear at a time and he does multiple ones. I have to practice that.
The air around his outstretched hands shimmers and distorts with elemental energy. With a savage twist of his wrists, invisible currents coalesce into multiple Wind Spears—razor-sharp vortices that howl with fury as they materialize. The weaponized air streaks forward, each spear leaving a visible trail of mist in its wake. They slice through harpy wings, severing sinew and bone in explosions of blood and feathers. One spear impales a Screechclaw through her chest, the cyclonic force shredding her from the inside out before bursting from her back in a violent eruption. Fragor roars, thesound reverberating across the battlefield, his eyes blazing with predatory satisfaction as their enemies fall.
As another group attacks Vaylen, he signs toward Longstream, his palm up to indicate Water Wall. Longstream understands immediately. His hands sweep upward, drawing moisture from the air into a dense barrier. Vaylen adds wind, spinning it into the water. The combined cyclone catches two Screechclaws, drowning them midflight.
Even Silas shows his worth, flames erupting from his fingertips to create a burning perimeter that herds a group of harpies toward Cliffbecker’s stone spikes.
I’m soaring through the open air evading a trio of Screechclaws when a horrific screech rips through the battle noise. I turn just in time to see a massive Screechclaw slam into Silas with devastating force.
“Fuck!” The word tears from my throat as Silas tumbles backward off Ignemara’s head. His Tethers snap like thread, fire flickering out in an instant.
My heart lurches as he plummets. Enemy or not, he’s still one of us.
