“May I ask a deeply personal question?”
“Again?” I turned to the dwarf, taking care to roll my eyes dramatically enough for him to notice from his position below.
“It’s been five minutes since my last one.”
“Not long enough.”
“Oh.”
He was quiet for a whole sixty seconds while I rigged my net in the trees. Knots: secure. Branches: sturdy. It would work.
“This is completely your fault.” Captain Quinn paced up and down the cramped dungeon cell, glowering at his android co-pilot.
INFO’s internal servos whirred as she tilted her head. “I do not see my error. I merely informed the men that the sorceress they worship is most likely not a deity, but—”
I’m cleaning Amethyst’s harness in the tack room when the rogues arrive. I don’t know how many there are—my only warning is the dragons’ shrieking before a horrid stench assails me, sharp pain spikes through my head, and I black out.
When I come to, my hands are tied behind my back.
I’d been studying the atmosphere for years now. Years. All in the hopes of establishing the data to corroborate the impossible.
But I should explain, I suppose. Over forty years ago, I was born under a perfect dragon storm. According to the experts, that happens only once every hundred years. But I knew it happened more often than that.
I wound my way through octahedron-shaped tables occupied by a variety of alien species and approached the only other human in the bar. “Fancy meeting you here, Flynn.”
As soon as his hazel eyes rested on me, I wished I’d dressed cuter than corporate casual. And taken more care with my hair and makeup.
“Keerful with them chickens.” Jack McGuffin eyed Earl warily as he loaded up the final crate and closed the cargo hatch of the Mud Runner. “They’re priceless, you know.” He clasped my hand in his gnarled claw. “Swiped their mother from a giant back in my youth.”
I nodded politely, ignoring his senile ramblings. It’s bad business to upset a customer, especially one paying so well.
Hundreds of intermeshed triangles emanated from Veyja’s hands, then locked with those of her fellow shieldmages to form a glowing wall. The first wave of scalewolves crashed into the barrier. Blood and spittle sprayed into the air. Veyja winced at the impact, but the wall held firm.
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“It’ll be worth it. You’ll see.”
My brother, the perpetual optimist. “You’re not the one puking over the side. Thanks to me, even the dragon probably wants this flight to be over.”
Tad’s chuckle was soft, but I could still hear it over the constant rush of air and the beat of the massive wings.
Je’hir blinked and blinked again, tears leaking out the sides of his eyes, past the tops of his ears, down the sides of his head. Sky, turquoise with wispy fluffs of pink clouds filled his vision. Directly above him, however, a wavering black dot broke the serene beauty.
“No, no, no,” he moaned, punching the ground beneath his fists and wishing the tangible evidence of his father’s treachery would just disappear.
The tiny collar weighed heavy in my hand. I’d always know Victor was special, the kind of kitten who had magic hidden deep inside. Despite his belief that he could fly, he had taken one too many risks.
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Riding a dragon is the best way to travel—most of the time. “Karr, what are you doing? This is not Adron city!” I lean over as the dragon touches down on a grassy hilltop. “I’m stopping for a nap.” Karr slurs the last word into a yawn and his purple tongue curls like a cat’s.
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“Dragon Armor?”
“Something the mages cooked up to resist dragon fire. Arrows and spears go right through it, though. Once the dragons were hunted to extinction, it became useless. But I hear you could run straight into flames and not even singe your eyebrows.”
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