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She didn’t have time for encouragement or jokes. Death faced them.

The spiked forms of two metal-badgers appeared in the gaps between the trees, dodging around the trunks. The whoosh of great winds seemed to blend with the aftershocks rocking through the ground.

Iryana took a breath.

Someone groaned behind her.

A scream sounded from the fight below.

The badgers passed them, running down the valley.

Iryana took another breath.

The dragon was staying on the badger’s tails.

One of the dakii roared.

Iryana watched the dragon dive, and then a long, high-pitched, piercing sound, like a child screaming in terror, carried through the trees. She knew that sound. Had heard it before. Another scream joined the other.

Iryana lowered her bow, shaking.

“Hold!” she choked out.

“What was that?” Misha gasped.

“The metal-badgers, the dragon got them.”

She heard the gasps of relief around her. Iryana finally let herself look down. The soldiers on the ground struggled; more had fallen.

“Keep the dakii off them!” Iryana ordered the archers that were still capable of shooting.

Iryana drew her bow again, loosing arrow after arrow at the dakii down below until her magic screamed. Misha was nearly as quick at her side, blood now staining the top of her coat and splattered on her face.

“Reinforcements coming down!”

Iryana looked toward the wall in relief as the gate swung open and soldiers headed down the narrow path. Uncle Dinhal and Pyetar were in the lead. She turned back to the dakii and called down to the troops that relief was coming. That seemed to give them another burst of energy.

The dragon came back into view, but it was flying nearly straight up, climbing into the clouds.

Fresh archers took over for them, and Iryana stumbled back from the ledge. Soldiers carried or helped the injured archers limp back up to the post. She released her forgings before the adrenaline had time to dissipate, breathing around the pain now throbbing through her body.

Pyetar caught her eye as he hurried past, scanning her quickly before continuing down to relieve the fighters below.

“Are you okay?” she asked her sister.

Misha wiped the blood off her cheek, staining her leather glove. “I’m fine.” But when they finally made it up to the post, Misha seemed to shrink in on herself, sagging as her feet dragged.

“Here, let’s take a break,” Iryana tried, but Misha kept walking, trying to push through it.

Iryana grabbed her sister, forcing her to stop. “You’re crashing, it’s okay. It happens after these kinds of fights.”

Misha stiffened but sagged just as quickly. “I feel so weak,” Misha mumbled.

“You’re not weak, you didn’t fail, and I’m not babying you,” Iryana argued. “Your body is just saying it needs a break.”

Before her sister could argue, Iryana scooped a stiff Misha into her arms. She may have been close to falling apart herself, but she could rally for her sister. Misha wasn’t the size of a child anymore, and her fourteen year old body was covered with lean muscle, but Iryana was strong. The bond with Noshtiz’s magic gave her muscles a little boost.

“I can walk! I’m fine!” Misha cried with embarrassment.