Page 110 of The Last Slayer
Our amphiteres were larger than the one I’d flown on to the Lunar Garden. Their wings spanned over thirty feet, and silver armor covered their bodies completely. Their pale eyes followed me as we approached. I sidestepped a long tail, tipped at the end with spikes the size of my thigh.
Kenji watched us from his mount. His leash was tied around his waist, his long swords drawn. Two amphiteres remained without riders. One had the crest of Eastvale on it—a nine-headed wyvern twisting in the sky, each claw tight around a huge heartstone. Ramiel jumped onto his mount, impeccably balanced, and I managed to climb onto mine with more grace than I had before. I was thankful for my previous riding lesson. Humiliation was one thing, but I didn’t want Kenji to reconsider his decision to help us out. Too much depended on my claiming Eastvale. I dug my toes in under the amphitere’s scales and wrapped the leash around my sweaty palm.
Ramiel looked at me, and his green eyes seemed endlessly deep. “Ready?”
My throat felt like it was packed with huge cotton balls, but I managed to nod. “Let’s go.”
He let out a piercing whistle, and we launched into the air.
The clouds of wyverns remained above us at first, but as we ascended into them they spread out to our front, sides and rear, creating an enormous flying sea of dragons. Thirty of them formed around our amphiteres to act as escort. The helmet Ramiel had given me enclosed my head and enhanced my senses so much that I could feel even the smallest movement of the wind. Leh’s vials grew warmer against the skin between my breasts as we flew toward Eastvale.
Above us the sky spread out in a flawless blue tapestry, but below lay a cumulus floor the color of a dirty dishrag. A low rumbling of thunder rolled over us like a dark wave. I couldn’t decide if bad weather would favor us or not. If we had been going for stealth, it might have worked to our advantage, but then again with all the noise from the dragon wings, any element of surprise we could’ve had was lost.
Fleets of wyverns fell in below us as we moved closer to the battleground. Their colorful scales stood out like a rainbow against the sullen clouds. The beating of thousands of wings grew more and more in unison until it rang like war drums. It hit me then that this was nothing like what I’d done before. I was in a real war, like the ones Sun Tsu had written about and I’d studied when I was in school. Losing would mean more than just my death. I shivered and took a deep breath. Everyone would be fighting on my behalf. I couldn’t panic now and become a liability.
History is replete with what your generation calls “losers.” I didn’t survive this long by siding with them.
Anger and determination swirled inside until I could barely breathe, but I wasn’t going to let Alexandros’s words to get to me. That was probably why he’d said them in the first place. I’d show him who the real loser was.
Ramiel, Kenji and I moved to the front of the formation to lead the charge. I tightened my grip on the leash and allowed my sword to burst through my hand. A Higashiro scout zoomed up to Kenji and reported—enemy wyverns were waiting for us just below the clouds past the barrier of Eastvale. Ramiel and Kenji exchanged a look, then Kenji’s amphitere extended its neck straight into the air and turned left and down.
The dragons changed formation and folded their wings, arcing into a long dive. Fat beads of moisture covered us as we plunged into the thick layer of clouds. The water streamed over armor and dragon hide and disappeared behind us into the atmosphere.
The barrier to the dragonhold shimmered in the air, barely visible to my eyes. I doubted any mortal could see it without significant magical help. Water and air moved through it freely, but sentient organisms were another matter. As we approached, currents of magic began to swirl around us, conspiring to direct us away from where we wanted to go. My amphitere started tossing its head, but I held it on course. The currents got stronger, and what had begun as a vague desire to turn back quickly mutated into a feeling that something terrible would happen if I kept going forward. I could feel my heartstone reinforcing my resolve, but even so it took all my willpower not to pull the rein and make my amphitere turn. Then all at once the pressure vanished and we were through.
A moment later w
e emerged from the layers of clouds and smashed into Madainsair’s waiting wyverns. The sky opened up and flashed lightning, followed by thunder that nearly popped my eardrums. Pelting water beat down. I sliced open the belly of an enemy dragon that passed above me while ducking to avoid his claws. My blade cut as if I were attacking tapioca and the dragon screamed, a mass of blood falling from its ruined torso. The wyvern heads on my armor turned to lap up the coppery liquid before the rain washed it away, then roared, the sound low and deep-throated.
Ahead and to my right, a crimson wyvern wearing the crest of Windgar slammed into a green one from Besade. Scales cracked and separated under their talons. Their long necks twisted around each other, jaws snapping. Neither gave the slightest quarter. Tangled and furious, the dragons tumbled in a writhing ball toward the ground.
I hacked away at as many enemies as I could, my heartstone giving me inhuman stamina. On the ground below, holes opened up and our wyrms and drakes poured out like lava. The drakes breathed flames. The rain and heat made thick columns of steam, creating a purgatory. I shuddered at the dragons’ shrieks.
Two amphiteres, one black and one white, flew toward us in unison. They were still some distance away, but I could make out their riders: Nathanael and Semangelaf. The raindrops were turning into snowflakes around Semangelaf. How could his amphitere tolerate such coldness?
My personal guard kept up a complex net of aerial protection around me, weaving in and around my mount in precise formations. Enemy wyverns that came too close were set upon by three or four of Besade dragons at once, and the attacks quickly defused. With the appearance of the dragonlords from Madainsair, the mad rush intensified. The colors of different holds merged and mingled until I couldn’t tell who was on our side and who was on theirs, but my amphitere had no problem identifying and smashing hostile units with its spikes. Flesh tore, bones snapped and blood sprayed the air until it reeked of copper, death and euphoria. The rain turned crimson beneath us.
Now Nathanael and Semangelaf were close enough to engage us directly. Two dozen wyverns from Frost Moor surrounded Kenji. Windgar’s guards slammed into ours, hissing and coiling. Nathanael and Semangelaf came straight for me and Ramiel, swords drawn. We met them with our weapons. Ramiel crossed blades with Semangelaf on their first pass, then turned to reengage. As expected, Nathanael chose me. He hadn’t even bothered with armor.
It was awkward to duel on an amphitere. The swords were long, but the reach wasn’t quite good enough to deliver a fatal blow. I watched Nathanael move, and it looked like he was more interested in cutting down my ride than chopping off my neck. Thankfully, the battle-trained amphitere maneuvered on its own better than I could have managed, artfully dodging so that the worst that happened were scratches along its armor. Of course, Nathanael’s mount was just as good, just as aggressive. Our amphiteres slashed at each other with every pass, spiked tails swinging like maces. I had to duck several times to avoid being decapitated.
My amphitere did its best to avoid locking into full engagement with Nathanael’s—Ramiel’s instructions, no doubt—but eventually it had no choice. Nathanael’s mount closed and there was no safe airspace for us to duck into. With roars and a bone-jarring crash, the two massive dragons slammed together and immediately locked talons, their wings outstretched to maintain gliding ability. Their necks intertwined, jaws snapping at any unprotected flesh.
Nathanael came bounding over his amphitere’s shoulder. My right arm absorbed the percussion of his first attack. Dorian’s armor tightened around me and provided more rigid support, but it still rattled my teeth. Nathanael swung his sword with a mastery that I didn’t yet have, and I thanked whatever gods existed that I’d studied kendo and fencing for decades in my mortal life.
Our blows rang and sent shockwaves through my body as our mounts hurtled through the air. Try as I might, Nathanael was gaining the upper hand. Although I didn’t feel like a cockroach this time, I was still pretty damn inadequate against him. I took a deep breath and tried to control my emotions. The dragons of Besade and Higashiro were depending on me to at least hold my position, and I was determined to carry my weight.
The wind whistled and howled with the flight of wyverns. The horrific cries below spoke of enormous massacre. I panted and tasted my own sweat, salty and thick.
Nathanael thrust, slashed—
His blade scratched my arm. One of the dragon heads on my armor screeched and spat a flame ball. Nathanael reared back and flicked his sword to send it elsewhere.
It bought me an instant. Our amphiteres dipped, and I transferred my attack to Nathanael’s mount, seeking to decapitate it. Nathanael blocked me neatly.
A wyvern above us got its head bitten off. Its blood spewed into the air like a fire hose, splattering my armor and Nathanael’s robe. My armor wyvern immediately started licking the blood, and the armor hardened, becoming tighter and stronger around me. I glanced over at Nathanael. The ruby-colored liquid plastered his unbound black hair to his skull, accentuating the paleness of his skin and blowtorch blue of his empty eyes.
The scent of war thickened, clogging my lungs with death and bloodlust. Nathanael’s attack grew faster, as if the frenzy of the dragons around us fed his hunger for the glory of victory.
