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Before I could control myself, I shot a stream of fire into the air. Look around us! I motioned toward the ruins, the farmer’s burned fields, the ash and cinder that was once a lord’s manor home. The demons have already won. They don’t even have to wage war against the Fae. Malvolia is burning it all down for them.
Isa, Radnor pleaded, please listen to reason.
We’re leaving. I scooped the egg into my mouth. If you survive, you’ll know where to find us.
Radnor
AFTER FLYING THE NEXT three days over burning towns and smoldering forests, the smoke finally cleared when I passed the border of Windhaven. I only stopped for short breaks, not staying in one place overly long until I reached the safety of Caldaria’s borders. It was dawn the fourth day when I finally came to a slow glide over the familiar split of one big river into three smaller tributaries. Three Rivers meant I was well within the safety of Delfi’s borders. Hopefully the demon mage hadn’t infected these lands yet.
After drinking my fill of cool, refreshing water, I perked at the bleating cries of an injured lamb. I found her in a pasture not far from Three Rivers, limping with a broken leg. She tasted odd, but I was too hungry to care. No doubt, infection had already set in her leg.
I knew you couldn’t resist my offering.
I spun with a roar, snarling at the robed mage as he squinted up at me while clutching his staff. You, I said on a growl. How do you speak to me, mage?
His smile was wickedness incarnate. My mind powers have grown stronger, in case you haven’t noticed.
I puffed up my chest, summoning my flame, though I couldn’t manage the slightest spark. I stumbled, my head spinning. With an anguished cry, I fell on my belly, blinking at the mage as my world tipped. What spell did you cast over me?
No spell. He chuckled. Delusio. I fed it to the lamb. Its effects should wear off soon, Radnor.
Delusio? The herb that caused disorientation. Damn him! I stumbled to my feet, crouching down on all fours like a cat preparing to strike a snake. You do not address me by name, demon.
His smile widened as he puffed up his chest. I am no demon. I’m the greatest wizard who’s ever lived.
I know what you are, a Naraka, I said with a snarl, stumbling toward him. I couldn’t let him win. My mate and hatchling were depending on me. I dug my claws into the dirt. Yet your blood and bones will squish easily beneath my talons just like a mortal.
You make killing me sound so easy. He rubbed his scraggly beard, looking me over like he was assessing the worth of a sow at the market. Too bad you shall never have the chance.
Your arrogance will be your undoing. Despite the dizziness in my head, I prepared to launch on my enemy. Your mind tricks don’t work on me. At least I hoped they didn’t. I had been so confident before. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
Don’t they?
Flares shot from his eyes before I had a chance to shield my eyes. I fell with a roar, the ground shaking beneath my scales as blinding light pierced my skull and filled my brain with a thick fog. Isa! My hatchling!
Hatchling? a dark voice rumbled in my head. You have no hatchling. The satyrs killed your mate. Tonight you will have your vengeance. You will burn everything, their village, their fields, all they hold dear.
No. No. No. A fog of confusion swirled in my head. The satyrs mean me no harm, I said to myself, though the words felt foreign, and I wasn’t sure if they were true. The satyrs hold the key to stopping the mind spinner.
No, they don’t, the dark voice taunted. They killed your mate. They killed Isa.
Radnor
I FLEW OVER THE SATYR village, the moon’s rays lighting my scales in myriad hues of fire while I scorched their thatched roofs. Those foolish goats would pay for killing my Isa!
Bleating goat-humans ran from their smoldering homes while crying out and pointing to the sky. Good. Let them know who killed them. Let the terrifying sight of my fanged jowls bearing down on them be the last thing they saw before I turned them to ash.
I landed with a roar, fire and embers raining down on our heads as the satyrs ran from one burning hut to the other. I puffed up my chest, preparing to unleash my fire when I saw her, the little lamb not much more than four winters standing below me, her eyes welling up with tears, her bottom lip quivering.
“Please don’t hurt us, dragon,” she cried while clutching a straw doll to her chest.
“Astrid!” a goat mother screamed, scooping the child into her arms and backing up several steps while warily eyeing me. “Please don’t hurt my baby!”
Astrid? I thought to myself. I know an Astrid. Or maybe Triss.
“He’s under a spell, Mommy.” The girl jutted a shaky finger at my chest. “Look at his eyes.”
An older goat stepped forward. He wore long gray robes and had a wise look in his eyes, his smile kind, a sharp contrast to another mage I knew, though for the life of me, I couldn’t remember his name.
