The dragon lifted his head, but before it could move, Balmeer dropped from the sky in a graceful, predatory dive, his beak aimed straight for the other creature’s eyes. The dragon brought its one good wing up to swipe at the roc, and Balmeer dodged it at the last second, pulling himself away and aiming his claws at the dragon’s back. He raked his talons across the creature’s spine.
The dragon roared, throwing his head back and letting out a huge burst of fire, trying to incinerate the roc before he could do any more damage. But Balmeer shifted to the side, still flying low, and came in again, his claws ripping into the dragon’s good wing before he climbed the sky again, preparing for another strike.
The dragon, angry and in pain, managed to rear itself up on its back legs and let out another roar, this one loud enough that I could feel the stones of the aerie shake. The dragon beat its wings together as if trying to fight people off by waving in front of its face and hoping that no one would be able to touch them. Usually, for humans, it wasn’t a very good self-defense tactic, but when you’re the size of a dragon, it could shift a fight in your favor pretty easily.
Another arrow flew into the dragon’s side, and the creature lifted his head again, roaring in pain. The dragon extended one wing, making contact with the smaller roc and throwing him across the clearing before dropping back down onto all four legs. The dragon turned toward the archers who still peppered his thick hide with arrows, the ends sticking out of his side like bristles on a hairbrush.
The dragon took one lumbering step toward us, then another, his movements shaky and his head bobbing back in forth like he was trying to keep his balance. The creature roared again and took another step forward, not giving the archers enough room to take their shot before they had to flee.
“Men,” Rhys said. We all tightened our grips on our swords, ready to fight.
The dragon turned his head toward the sound and changed course, now moving toward the aerie and the men guarding it. Heading straight for us, in fact. A low hissing sound came from its mouth as it weaved from side to side.
“For Nerissette and the Golden Rose!” Dravak screeched as he ran forward, putting himself between me and the creature before his shape began to waver, shifting in the dim light from human to that of a small red dragon, without even the slightest bit of a moan from the child.
“Dravak!” I lunged toward him, but Kitsuna grabbed my hand, pulling me back.
“Let him handle it,” she snapped. “If you get in the middle of a fight between dragons, you’ll get stomped on. Besides, we need to stay back in case they bring anything else down.”
The blue dragon stood on his hind legs, roaring at Dravak, and the tinier, much younger dragon lifted himself higher, roaring in return and beating his wings together in a full-fledged, teenage-boy temper tantrum. Instead of dropping back down though, Dravak let his wings lift him, bringing him forward in what looked like a giant hop as he spread his wings and beat them against the blue dragon’s head, distracting him enough for Dravak to press the advantage. He gave the dragon what looked like a reptilian equivalent of a football tackle.
The young red dragon pulled himself off his opponent and spread his wings before throwing his entire body into the attack. There was a crack like a gunshot and then a wet, sickening sound that made my stomach turn.
Chapter Ten
There was a loud roar in the night and the sound of yelling from the Woodsmen before I heard the sharp snap of arrows being shot. Then the night went silent again.
I shivered and tried to convince myself that this wasn’t real. It was all some sort of dream. I was home, at Gran Mosely’s, and this was all just a really bad dream brought on by reading one too many fantasy novels or a late-night showing of Lord of the Rings on television. None of this was real. None of this could be—
There was another loud roar, farther away this time, and I opened my eyes to see Dravak with the other dragon’s head clutched in his teeth. My stomach lurched, and I tried my best not to gag as the enemy’s head began to shimmer, reverting back to its—his—human shape.
The frilly black crest that Dravak had been holding gently in his teeth turned to a long, silky, black topknot. The long snout pushed back in, returning to a thick, fleshy face the color of brown, dried grass with heavy black eyebrows that seemed to crawl across his face like caterpillars.
“Good,” I said as my knees start to shake at the sight of the young dragon with his opponent’s head in his mouth. Right now he needed me to be brave. No matter how much looking at a dead guy’s head made me want to throw up. “Very good job, Dravak. I’m proud of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
“My queen.” One of the young soldiers standing near me stepped forward and grabbed my hand, stopping me from making my escape into the dark.
Instead of pulling away, I turned and dropped my head, vomiting all over the toes of what I’m pretty sure were exceptionally shiny black boots. My stomach clenched, and I was sick again. But this time the soldier was fast enough to step aside, saving his feet.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist, and I could smell both Kitsuna and Rhys behind me, her holding me up and him with a supportive hand on my shoulder. Kitsuna helped me stand upright again, and I looked at the soldier standing in front of me, his face a mixture of shock and disgust, his nose scrunched and his mouth turned up in a grimace, whether at the vomit or the body I wasn’t really sure.
Either way, it was probably better if I apologized. “Sorry,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks burn.
“It’s fine, Your Majesty.” He swallowed, and I could see he was trying not to look down. “Can’t say I blame you.”
“Right.” I nodded weakly.
“Men,” John said loudly. The soldiers all turned to him instead of staring at me as I tried to keep from vomiting again. “Find the wounded and finish them.”
“What about me?” Mercedes asked, her voice high pitched and sounding strangely excited.
“Do you have arrows?” John asked.
“No.”
“She can have some of mine,” another voice, rough-sounding but still young, said.
“And mine!” a second voice chimed in, older and deeper this time.
“I’ll share with the Dryad Sapling,” a third young man said, his voice cracking on the ing. The others all laughed softly.
“Fine then,” John said. “Hunt well, Sapling. You’ve earned your share of our meat.”
“Ugh.” I wrinkled my nose as my stomach roiled, and I tried to keep from losing my dinner again.
“Your Majesty?” Kitsuna gently took my elbow, and I had to fight not to flinch even though it was my best friend touching me.
“I know.” I nodded. “The ceremony.”
“The ceremony,” she said quietly as I swallowed.
Dragons had elaborate rituals when it came to war, and one of their most sacred were the ceremonies surrounding a dragon warrior’s first battle and his first kill. Both dragons were honored—the one that had done the killing and the dragon who had given its life.
Every time we’d had to fight the Fate Maker, I had taken part in ceremonies just like this one, but that didn’t make it any better. Every time someone showed me a dead body, I still wanted to run away and hide, pretend this was all some sort of insane, never-ending nightmare.
“Okay.” I took a deep breath before turning back to where Dravak was standing, shifting from claw to claw with the head still in his teeth. “Go for it.”
Dravak dropped the head in front of me so that it was resting at my feet and lowered his head, wings outstretched. I lowered my head in return, my eyes closed so that I didn’t accidentally catch a sneak peek at the lump resting against my toes like some sort of zombie soccer ball, and bowed to him.