“Do as well as Marco, and we’ll see about it. Enough talk, the day’s wasting.”
Breen rolled her eyes, started to follow him. It pricked at her skin, sharp, tiny needles. “Wait.” She swayed with it, groping in the air for Keegan’s arm. “Something’s coming.” Then as he turned back, took a step toward her, it struck her like a fist. “Something’s here.”
She might have gone to her knees, but Keegan caught her arms.
The contact brought it clear, and with the clearing, a knife to her heart. “The dragons! They’re killing them. Do you see? Do you see?”
“I do now, through you.Nead na Dragain!” He shouted it. “Get Harken, get all the riders you can and any on wing. They’re after the young.”
“Lonrach.” Terrified, she said the name, though she’d already called him in her head, her heart.
She saw Cróga first, a gold streak soaring from the west. The vise squeezing the breath from her throat didn’t release until she saw Lonrach soar through the leaden sky.
Eyes fierce, Bollocks bounded onto his back. And knowing she couldn’t hold him back, she mounted. She saw Amish streak by like a bullet, then she was rising up, flying east.
Defend, she thought, and prayed they’d be in time. She drew her sword with one hand, her wand with the other, and as they lost sight of Cróga in the clouds, put all her faith in Lonrach.
She could see nothing but gray.
Then, as she saw the first dragon fall out of the sky, her heart shattered.
Burned and bleeding, it dropped through the clouds. Lost, she knew, already lost. Beneath her, Lonrach sent out a scream of fury, one that echoed over and over as more dragons called.
Closing her eyes, she lifted both sword and wand.
“Part. Part and thin and sweep away to sea.”
The clouds rolled away, stack by stack, layer by layer. But rather than the blue, they opened to streaks of red and black. Fire and smoke on the mountain where the dragons nested.
For one horrible moment, it seemed the entire mountain blazed. Then she saw it for what it was. The flaming arrows and spears hurling down, and the dark faeries who launched them, the pair of witches on the backs of winged demons who hurled down blasts of fire.
On Cróga’s back, Keegan flew straight into them, while on the mountain, dragons answered with fire of their own as they fought to defend their young.
She saw another fall, struck by bolts of lightning as sharp as blades. She saw the red blood pour from open wounds, the black burns over the sapphire scales. And watched Keegan sever the head of a dark Sidhe as the attackers scattered.
Still too distant to use the sword, Breen imagined a bow, an arrow of power. She let it fly toward the witch and winged demon circling to strike at Keegan from behind.
Their screams joined the others, one short sound before they erupted into ash.
And with a bellow, Lonrach turned another attacker into a fireball.
More fell through the choking smoke, dragon and enemy.
She heard the roars, more dragon calls, from the east, from behind her in the west. With her eyes on Keegan, she would have missed the enemy flying up from below, and the flaming spear he prepared to launch at Lonrach’s belly. But her dragon swept his tail, tearing wings and flesh, and sent Odran’s Sidhe tumbling onto the mountain.
Banrion, Cróga’s mate, crushed him underfoot, then trumpeted.
Lonrach soared up, and there Harken and Morena with him onhis dragon struck the second winged demon and sent it and the witch riding it onto the plateau. Dragons, young and fierce, leaped on them.
Cróga circled, and Keegan called out.
“Two fled—going east. You’ll follow them, at a distance,” he said to Harken. “See where they go and how they got past us to do this thing.”
“Let me.” Morena spread her wings. “They won’t see me, and they’ll expect a dragon to pursue.” She lifted her arm, and Amish landed. “The murdering bastards won’t see us.”
“Aye, better. Go.”
“Have a care.” Harken reached up to touch her hand. “And come back to me.”