Here, Clay told Sirus, extending the picture towards the floating crystal. The picture-frame suddenly became white-hot. He dropped it, yelping in pain. Focusing on his singed fingers, he banished the pain and returned the charred tips to their previous state. When he looked again Sirus’s picture was glowing bright enough to dazzle him. Squinting, he watched as it began to melt the iron floor of the cell, the metal glowing red then white before dropping away, creating a wide hole. The picture disappeared into the hole, quickly followed by the crystal, leaving Clay standing over it in indecision.
Well, he thought, preparing to jump. Can’t see any other way out of here.
The waking world returned with a jolt, Clay gasping in shock as a heavy buffeting wind came close to dislodging him from Lutharon’s back. He grabbed hold of a spine and held on, ears filled with the challenging roar of a drake, but this time it wasn’t a Red.
The White streaked towards them, the roar swallowed by the flames jetting from its mouth. Lutharon banked hard, Clay gripping the spine with both hands as the Black stood on a wing-tip, deftly avoiding the flames before flaring his wings and pivoting about. The White spread its own wings, wheeling around to hover some twenty yards away, Lutharon following suit. Clay saw that the White was not alone. Catheline was perched atop its back, staring at him in evident puzzlement. Thought she’d locked me away for good, Clay surmised, reaching into his satchel and drawing out a grenade, but the White attacked before he had a chance to arm it.
Lutharon folded his wings and dived as the White surged forward, Clay hearing the snap of its jaws above his head. Lutharon extended his wings and went into a tight turn, opening his jaws to blast out a stream of fire at the White, catching the larger animal in mid-turn. It let out an enraged roar, lashing out with its tail as Lutharon swept closer, the spear-point leaving an ugly red scar on the Black’s neck. Lutharon coughed flame directly into the White’s face, momentarily blinding it before rearing back to lash out with his talons, tearing into the scaled flesh of its opponent. Clay could only hold on as Lutharon pressed his advantage, head stabbing forward to clamp his jaws on the White’s neck, blood welling as he bit deep.
The White screamed in pain and rage, its own talons slashing at the Black, their blood mingling as they tumbled about the sky, Lutharon holding on despite the wounds scoring his hide. There was a sound like a miniature thunderclap, Lutharon’s teeth tearing clear of the White’s neck as he was propelled backwards. As they were pushed away Clay caught sight of Catheline, staring at them in intense concentration as she unleashed a powerful wave of Black. The force wave continued, pushing them down towards the earth. Clay glanced over his shoulder to see the plain rushing towards them and, realising he had somehow managed to keep hold of the grenade, tugged the arming pin free and used the last vestiges of his Black to propel it at Catheline.
The White moved in a blur, tail whipping to intercept the grenade before it could strike its target. The explosion broke Catheline’s concentration, cutting off her stream of Black and leaving the White minus the spear-point at the end of its tail. The severed tip leaked blood as the White whirled about and went into a steep dive. Lutharon twisted and spread his wings wide, stalling their fall then sweeping back up into the sky. Clay looked down to see a fire erupting on the plain as the White chased them with its flames.
Clay armed another grenade and tossed it over his shoulder, quickly followed by two more, reasoning gravity would provide the required distance. He was rewarded with the sound of three rapid explosions, but a backwards glance revealed the dispiriting sight of the White still labouring in pursuit, albeit with one side of its face blackened and leaking blood. He could feel Lutharon’s strength fading, seeing the blood streaming in thick torrents from his many wounds, but still he turned to fight.
Drawing in his wings, Lutharon turned over and streaked down to meet the White head-on. Clay met Catheline’s eyes as the drakes sped towards one another, finding them full of hate but also something more. She’s afraid, he realised, seeing how her eyes widened as the massive Black plummeted towards her. Even the mad can learn to fear.
He quickly drew his revolver and began to fire, managing four shots before a wave of Black blasted it out of his hand, Clay hearing the snap of breaking bones as it spun away. He ignored the flare of agony and unleashed all his remaining Red in a rapid stream. He had the satisfaction of seeing Catheline’s hair take light before the two drakes collided.
The impact jarred him loose of Lutharon’s back, and the surrounding air turned briefly into fire before he fell clear, trailing smoke as he tumbled towards the ground. The impact came sooner than expected, Clay careening across the earth in a cloud of raised sod before sliding to a halt, stunned and winded. He lay there, dragging air into his lungs and trying to force animation into his limbs, hearing the sweep of very large wings drawing closer.
CHAPTER 55
Sirus
He returned to his body to find his left hand clamped between the jaws of a juvenile White. He barely felt it, having lost so much blood that sensation was now just a distant thing. His hand gave an involuntary twitch as the juvenile bit down, causing it to open its jaws and hop back with an annoyed hiss. An answering squawk from the right caused Sirus to turn his head, finding the other juvenile regarding him with its head cocked, yellow eyes blinking in apparent curiosity.
“Wondering why I’m still here,” he said in a guttural whisper. “So am I.”
The juvenile on the right seemed to take this as some sort of challenge, flaring its wings and lowering itself to pounce, mouth opening wide. There was a sharp percussive crack and the juvenile was instantly transformed into two separate pieces. The upper half spun away from the lower, turning end over end in a bloody cart-wheel. It landed a few feet away from its twitching lower half, jaws snapping in a reflex.
The juvenile on Sirus’s left leapt, wings blurring and flame jetting from its mouth, only to be swiftly blasted out of view. Sirus was curiously unsurprised by the face that looked down on him once his rescuer came into view, a face tense with hate and intent on murder.
“I . . .” Sirus began, finding the words choked by blood. He coughed, trying to clear it but Tekela didn’t seem interested in any statement he might make.
“Shut up,” she said, shouldering the carbine she carried and reaching down to pull a bone-handle knife from a sheath on her calf.
“I have . . .” he tried again, blood gouting from his mouth.
“Shut up, Sirus!” She stepped closer and crouched, putting the knife blade to his neck. He saw that she was crying and was pained to have grieved her so.
“I have something to do,” he said, throat finally clear of blood although he could feel more rushing in. He met her damp eyes, hoping she saw some vestige of who he had once been in the monstrous visage she beheld. He managed to raise his right hand, fingers open and palm extended. “Please . . . it’s very important.”
Tekela let out a sob as her gaze tracked from his face to the blood welling from the hole in his chest. “You killed Jermayah,” she said, taking a hard ragged breath. “You killed all those people.”
“Yes,” he replied, his words punctuated by sharp, rasping breaths, each one he knew bringing him closer to death. “And . . . I have done . . . far worse. Soon . . . I’ll die . . . for what I’ve done. You can kill . . . me, if you wish. But first . . . there is something . . . I have to do. For you . . . for everyone.”