Page 127 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
Zephyros circles low, wings beating storms into the cracked earth. Below, his little one slashes and claws at the taloned fiends that swarm her. Her rage burns bright, but the creatures are too strong, too fast. His talons itch to rip them apart, his jaws crave their bones, but one strike from him would crush her as surely as them. Cursed bulk. Always the wrong size to save what matters most.
Fragor dives like a thunderbolt nearby, and Stormsong drops, bellowing her name. Zephyros aches with relief. The human never falters where she is concerned. For that, Zephyros is starting to truly respect him.
But the carrion-witches do not flee. They drag her like a kill toward the boulder. Zephyros unleashes a roar that shakes the ground, but the harpies do not relent. Cowards they may be, yet their desperation makes them bold.
He holds to their bond, feels her panic. Her breath hitches, her pain spikes. Then the ground itself swallows her scream.
Gone.
Again.
The bond flickers, jagged with terror, then she plummets out of reach as though the earth itself has hooked greedy claws into her soul.
The roar tears out of his chest, rattling the air like mountains cracking. His bond coils sharp inside him, her fall dragging him down with her. The light vanishes as the boulder slams into place. Rhealyn slips beyond his reach, sealed in a black tomb.
He follows her through their connection, senses the drop… her body tumbling, striking rock, then the brutal stop far below. Pain stabs his chest as though he takes the impact himself. Old rage tears at him, muttering that he should have been faster, should have spotted them before they grabbed her. He should have?—
—Zephyros?Her voice, desperate.Can you hear me?
—I am here. I sensed your fall.I will tear this earth apart stone by stone if I have to. There is no way I am losing you again.
—I’m good right now.
Yet, deep fear flares through her. Not of the tight space, but of something else that moves in the dark with her. He feels it brushing her mind like cold scales.
A Screechclaw!
Zephyros circles once closer to the ground as Stormsong finishes the last harpy with brutal efficiency, skewering the hag with a Wind Spear. Wasting no time, he charges toward the boulder like a mindless beast, as though his puny strength could shift such weight. Yet Zephyros understands his desperation.
The human’s strength proves as useful as a gnat against a dragon. Zephyros sweeps lower, watching as Stormsong steps back, summoning his wind magic. The human’s power swirls and gathers, then blasts against the stone only to scatter uselessly around it, barely shifting it.
Beneath the earth, Rhealyn’s terror pulses through their bond like a wound. Whatever lurks with her in that darkness moves closer. There’s no time for this.
Zephyros tucks his wings and dives. The wind howls around his scales as he plummets toward the ground where Stormsong stands. The human throws himself flat against the dirt when he sees Zephyros.
As if snatching prey, he extends one massive talon, obsidian claws digging into stone. One flex and it lifts free, revealing the jagged hole beneath. He tosses it aside, and it crashes into the barren earth, splitting on impact.
Zephyros banks sharply, wings cutting through wind that feels thick as water. Too slow. Too cumbersome. He curses his bulk again, his inability to do delicate work. What use is all his power when she needs small, nimble limbs to help her?
Below, Stormsong launches himself into the darkness feet-first, without even a cursory glance for what might await. Zephyros begs the idiot doesn’t snap both legs on landing. Or impale himself on whatever stalactites lurk below.
—Rhealyn! Stormsong is coming.
Zephyros circles back, feeling her flicker of surprise and relief through their bond.
A growl rumbles deep in his chest as Zephyros scans the barren landscape. The other Skyriders fight the remaining Screechclaws as he lands near the hole, determined to dig to the bowels of the earth if he must, but only watching for now, making sure no more harpies come. They always do, like flies to decaying flesh. Centuries of war, and the pattern never changes. Only now they hunt his rider specifically.
Something clicks in the darkness below.
Zephyros narrows his eyes and focuses on the bond, Rhealyn’s senses serving as his own.
VAYLEN
I land in a crouch,squinting through swirling dust and oppressive darkness, a single shaft of light coming from above. My eyes strain to adjust, searching for any sign of movement among the shadows. The air tastes of earth and something else, something foul.
“Vaylen!” Rhealyn’s voice echoes from somewhere ahead. “Be careful. We’re not alone down here.”
I reach for my wind power, drawing a thin current of air around me to disperse the dust. There’s a clicking sound, the unmistakable sound of claws against stone. My body tenses, memories of a hundred battles rising to the surface.
