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The riders are not happy. Mrithun’s voice, a steady almost motherly sound, entered her thoughts.
I can see that. Get us out of here.
Happily. The Bold Wing darted forward leaving the scale riders in a wake of shouts.
Meira could hear them calling her name, the sound of their wings pumping in the evening air, a dangerous chase behind them. Her shadow was in front of her as flames lit up the sky at their back. Fire shot against Mrithun’s side, singeing Remis’ pant leg. His responding shout made a ringing begin in her ear.
“Meira! Do not run!” Bram. Skiathis was the only Bold Wing in the legion capable of out-flying Mrithun and he was nearly at their side. “This doesn’t have to end with a fight. We can go back to Mount Ridmond; you can have a fair trial! I’ll see to it!”
And end up readying for another execution stage. Absolutely not.
“Let us go, Bram. We won’t cause any problems. Just let us go,” she shouted back but her throat was still raw and the words clawed their way out.
“I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that.”
The thin bit of fabric hung down from his hood and pressed tightly into his features. She could still recognize the shape of his forest eyes and the angle of his cheekbones. Those lips that had once kissed and explored her body were turned down into a deepening frown. Skiathis hissed, snapping his teeth at Mrithun, nearly catching the tip of her wing.
“Please don’t make me do this, Meira,” Bram pleaded. Was he genuinely concerned for her? Even still, after he’d struck her for lying, he didn’t want to be forced to bring them down.
“Fuck off!” Meira shouted, leaning forward into the rush of wind and thrilling as it burned against her cheeks. They’d escaped death once tonight, perhaps they could do it a second time.
Mrithun shot forward and Skiathis disappeared somewhere behind them. Remis was shouting again, though this time it was through clenched teeth. His fear was a rapid thing. It rushed through his veins, threatening to bleed into Meira’s battle-ready mentality.
Another arrow whizzed over their shoulders. Meira tensed, knowing Remis was her shield at her back. She should have put him in front of her—agony tore through her next thought. The space above her hip throbbed. She laid a bare hand over the mark, felt nothing but her own flesh, and knew that it was Remis’ pain she was feeling. He growled.
Meira jerked forward at the same moment Mrithun dropped several feet. Pain turned her head dizzy and she was certain an arrow had found its way through her shoulder. She spared a glance, finding herself utterly intact. Remis let out a groan, his body slumping forward, head lowering against her neck.
Hold on. Hold on. Hold on, she pleaded with him.
Skiathis’ flames licked against Mrithun. Blisters bubbled up on the thinner membranes that webbed between Mrithun’s wings. The pointed blade of an arrow sunk into the space behind the Bold Wing’s ear and Mrithun’s cry threatened to topple her from the dragon’s back. They were losing altitude now. The air was thickening and the clouds disappeared overhead and out of reach.
The scale riders kept coming. All nine of her legion were at her back and there wasn’t time to decide if one or all of them were against her. The onslaught of flames and arrows kept coming. Skiathis’ teeth skimmed Mrithun’s tail and sent the three of them spinning in the sky as her Bold Wing tried to get out of his clasp.
Red rock cliffs jutted out over black waters. If they could make it, if she could land, then they could get to the cover of the trees and force the other riders to follow on foot.
Black blood was dripping out of Mrithun’s various wounds. The high of the bonding was wearing off and giving way to the exhaustion that held them before. Fatigue was hitting her from all sides. Her own body felt every hour she’d sat in the dungeons bruised and broken. Mrithun’s pain was radiating down their bond in a way she’d never experienced before. Remis was fighting for consciousness at her back. Only her own stubbornness kept her from giving up.
They just needed to land. They needed that damn tree cover.
Mrithun was already heading toward the red-stained rocks. They could land.
No. Mrithun’s voice came steady despite her pain. You’ll jump. I’ll fend them off.
You’ll die. Skiathis will end you for this. For me. She couldn’t swallow past her guilt.
Have faith, witchling.
Remis’ thoughts had calmed. They drifted almost out of reach as he threatened to fade into the recesses of his mind. He was losing too much blood. More than the power they shared could combat.
“Remis!” Meira let go of Mrithun’s spiked spine to twist toward Remis, to rattle him awake as his eyes drooped. As she turned she could see the Bold Wings behind them, the nearness of Bram and the other riders. Brooks had his bow pulled taut another arrow nocked and ready to fly, but the others, they kept a greater distance, never close enough to truly harm. It could just be that Mrithun was faster, but Meira hoped that it was because they were her friends. Witch or not, they’d shared a connection through all these years of riding together. “Remis, we have to jump!”
His head lifted, his chest rising and falling within the blood-soaked cloth. “I can’t.”
“You have to!” Her hand found his thigh and she squeezed the muscle trying to bring him back to full awareness. Crimson coated her fingers as she let go.
“Okay,” Remis whispered, though she hardly heard him as the wind threw his words over his shoulder.
The sparse grasses on the cliff’s edge were coming into view. Meira slipped her feet out of the harness, ready to pull her leg over, ready to jump. Two strong hands found her back and her mind slipped back into a memory. This was familiar. This was…
