Unleash the Storm

  She rose to a crouch. Had Zwi heard something? All was silent except for the slow drip of water where the mist had condensed on the rocks outside. Only a few feet of ground was visible beyond the entrance before the mist swallowed it. Her dread increased until it was like a weight pressing on her lungs. Had the dragon come back? She’d put Ash and Zwi near the back of the stables; the dragon couldn’t fit more than its head and neck into the opening, but it could still roast them like meat in an oven with one blast of that blue fire.

  No movement, no sound in the fog. She squinted harder and her heart jumped into her throat.

  A shadow appeared: a figure cautiously approaching the cave entrance—a figure with wings.

  Tears stung her eyes as relief swept through her, almost overwhelming the surge of fear from the Nightmare Effect. Raum had found them; she must have underestimated how much time had passed. She jumped up and ran toward the entrance as he paced closer, struggling to see through the haze as much as her.

  As she rushed toward him, he saw her at the same moment she got a good look at him—and she skidded to a stop as electric terror jolted through her.

  The draconian standing in the entrance to the cave wasn’t Raum.

  He wasn’t any draconian she knew. She’d never seen him before. And judging by the black wrap covering the lower half of his face and the shining blade of the pike he’d levelled at her chest, he hadn’t come to rescue them.

  Chapter Ten

  She couldn’t breathe through her panic. She stood halfway between the draconian in the entrance and the stall where Ash and Zwi were hidden. Her eyes darted from the long-bladed pike in his hands to his partially covered face. His eyes were dark, whether naturally or from shading, she didn’t know. His gaze swept over her but revealed nothing of his thoughts, despite the oddity of her appearance; he couldn’t have been expecting an unarmed girl with charred clothes and blistering burns over half her body.

  Her brain stuttered. A draconian. A stranger. Ash and the others had wondered if they would ever find any draconians in these endless mountains, but none of them had expected other draconians to find them. Where had he come from? Was he alone? How had he found her?

  And, most importantly, what did he think of her?

  Her heart hammered in her chest. Could she convince him to help her? Would it be stupid to even try? Whatever she did, until she knew what this draconian’s intentions were, she couldn’t let him discover Ash at the back of the stables, completely helpless.

  Before she could react, another shadow materialized in the fog behind him. Two draconians. Shit. The second one joined his comrade, identical down to the face wrap and pike that immediately flashed down to point at her.

  The hostile move snapped her out of her panicked indecision. Her fear disappeared as calm determination took over. Fierce, furious protectiveness burned through her.

  Surprise flashed across the first draconian’s face. Had he seen her eyes go black with shading? Was he surprised at her resistance to his Nightmare Effect, normally effective even on shaded daemons?

  Almost lazily, she settled into a fighting stance—knees bent, hands held loosely out to her sides with her fingers curled, ready for her claws once she shifted to her daemon glamour. Her instincts told her an attack was coming, and her claws and magic were the only weapons she had. She’d defeated a reaper on her own but draconians were more powerful, and there were two of them.

  The lead draconian’s tail gave an abrupt sideways twitch, and they both charged.

  She launched at them, switching to her daemon glamour mid-lunge. The first pike flashed over her shoulder, the blade skimming across her scales. She came up under the handle and grabbed it, shoving it upright. The draconian spun away from her, instinctively protecting his torso from her attack—but she wasn’t attacking. Her hand closed on the hilt of a short, curved sword sheathed at his hip. As he pulled away, she stepped back, freeing the weapon from its sheath.

  She danced back a few more steps, keeping herself between them and the stall where Ash was hidden. Spinning her newly acquired weapon in her hand, she assumed a defensive stance, the blade angled toward the closer draconian.

  The two analyzed her with dark eyes. They wouldn’t underestimate her speed a second time. The three of them held perfectly still, waiting to see who would make the first move.

  She leaped for the nearer one. At the last instant, she dropped into a roll and slammed her boot into the ankle of the second one. He stumbled and she rolled fast as the first’s pike shot toward her. Springing to her feet, she slashed with her new sword, catching only air as the draconian sprang backward on agile feet, wings flaring for balance.

  The second one came at her from behind and she ducked away. They danced around one another, weapons flashing, bodies swaying as they each fought to deliver death while avoiding it themselves. She ducked and spun around their pikes, her sword flashing but unable to taste either of them. They were too fast, too good—though not smart. If they’d been smart, they would have abandoned their pikes—too long and awkward in the confined space—or used their far more powerful magic against her.

  Each strike came closer and closer to her flesh. She fell backward to evade the blade of one, landing on her back and rolling away as the other’s pike shot down, tearing through the side of her pants and over the scales that protected her left hip. Jumping to her feet, she retreated again, forced another step deeper into the cave—closer to Ash.

  She had to drive them back. She was running out of time and options.

  Drawing her arm back, she hurled her sword in the face of the nearer draconian. Shocked and caught off guard, he managed to cast a shimmering shield between his head and the blade. At the same time, she sprang for the other one. His pike whipped toward her and she took the blade in the forearm, letting her scales deflect it. Inside his guard, she grabbed him by the shoulder and launched herself over his head, tearing his wrap away from his face. She landed on his back, one foot braced on the empty sheath at his hip, a hand on his shoulder, and the other around his neck, her claws pressed to his throat where his pulse beat.

  He froze. His comrade stilled as well, weapon held at the ready but unable to strike. She held on to her hostage, breathing hard, with adrenaline pounding through her blood. Her maneuver had only worked because it had been so reckless as to be insane; they hadn’t expected her to abandon her weapon and any attempt at self-defense like that. She was lucky it had worked; otherwise, she would be very dead.

  She met the second draconian’s eyes.

  “Leave,” she ordered.

  He snarled, his sepulchral draconian voice sending a shiver up her spine. She didn’t expect him to comply, but he raised his pike, slamming the butt angrily into the stone floor. Her eyes narrowed, suspicious of his cooperation.

  Then a cold blade touched her throat.

  She went as rigid as her hostage, fury and desperation shooting through her.

  “Release him.” The throaty female voice coming from behind her rang with command.

  Piper held her hostage for a second longer, acutely aware of the blade against her neck. She could kill the draconian she held, but she would be slain in the same instant, leaving two draconians to find Ash.

  Letting out a hissing breath, she removed her hand from the draconian’s neck. Keeping her movements slow, she climbed off his back and put both feet on the ground before releasing him entirely. He stepped away and spun to face her. His wrap hung around his neck and his mouth was pressed in a thin, angry line. He was around Raum’s age, with a handsome but hard face.

  The woman behind Piper grabbed her by the hair. Her head was yanked back at the same time her feet were kicked out from under her. She fell, catching herself with her hands. The woman shoved her forcefully into the rock floor and her former hostage spun his pike around. The blade pressed against her spine in the middle of her back, trapping her in place. She lay helplessly on the floor, her burns and blisters throbbing, the rock cold under
her cheek.

  The woman came around to stand by Piper’s head. Why hadn’t she suspected there were more draconians than just the two who’d approached the cave? The female was dressed identically to the males in dark, leather-like clothing similar to what Raum and Ash wore, with a wrap hiding half her face. Even her dark hair was short like theirs, no longer than Ash’s. Her eyes, an unforgiving icy blue, flicked over Piper.

  “What are you?” she demanded. A faint, exotic accent tinged her words.

  Piper clenched her jaw and said nothing.

  The woman walked a slow circle around Piper, examining her. She nudged one of Piper’s dairokkan with the toe of her boot, making Piper grit her teeth even harder.

  “I have not seen this before. Where did you come from?”

  Piper turned her head to keep the draconian in her line of sight, her heart hammering in her chest.

  “The more questions you answer, the longer you live.” The woman crouched beside her head, giving her a hard look. “I will ask one more time. What are you?”

  “A haemon,” Piper answered reluctantly.

  “Haemon?” the woman repeated incredulously. “Haemons look like humans. You do not.”

  “I’m just … a bit different from regular haemons.”

  “Different.” The woman’s voice flattened. She stood. “I do not trust different. Why are you here?”

  “Hiding,” Piper grunted. “I didn’t know anyone lived here. If this is your territory, I’ll leave.”

  “Who do you hide from?”

  Piper bit her lip. How would they react if she told them she was hiding from Hades? What else could she say?

  The woman glanced at the second male. “Eyal, see what it is she hides in the stalls.”

  Piper went rigid, unable to move as the second draconian male turned and strode toward the back of the stable, looking in each stall as he went. She wanted to scream as he drew closer and closer to the end.

  Eyal reached the last stall and sprang backward, whipping his pike down in a defensive position.

  “Vakash!” he exclaimed, his shock obvious. The harsh word sounded like profanity.

  A high-pitched dragonet snarl answered him.

  “What is it?” the woman snapped.

  Eyal lowered his pike slightly. “A draconian and his dragonet. He appears unconscious.”

  “Who?” the woman demanded, her hand jumping to the hilt of the sword at her hip. “No one has patrolled this pass in a dozen cycles.”

  Eyal took a step into the stall, muttering something at Zwi, who was still snarling viciously at him. He leaned down, his head almost disappearing behind the half-wall.

  “I don’t think I know him,” Eyal replied.

  He leaned a little lower to see Ash’s face—Zwi must have been keeping him from approaching more closely—then jerked back. “Hedya, come! He is not one of ours.”

  The woman stiffened, then strode over to join Eyal. Piper was so tense she was practically vibrating but the other draconian pressed the point of his pike a little harder into her back in warning.

  Eyal pointed. “Look at his horns.”

  Hedya craned her neck, then gasped.

  “What is it?” the draconian standing over Piper demanded impatiently. He too spoke with an accent, his voice just as shiver-worthy as the others’.

  “Three horns,” Eyal said. “He has three horns.”

  The draconian beside her inhaled sharply. “It can’t be Jesyr?”

  Piper’s breath stuttered. Jesyr? Another draconian who had the three horns of a Taroth? Eyal, Hedya, and the unnamed third draconian standing over her had matching sets of two horns and faded markings on their skin.

  Hedya marched into the stall. Zwi’s snarl rose in pitch and the woman hissed something aggressively. She reached down, presumably turning Ash’s head to get a look at his face.

  “He’s too young,” she said. “He’s not Jesyr, but …”

  Trapped on the floor on her stomach, Piper could hardly see what was going on. Tension boiled inside her, her panic and desperation held in check by shading. She couldn’t lie there any longer. Unbeknownst to the draconian standing over her, the blade of his pike was resting on the back of her dragon scale halter top—meaning his blade was effectively useless.

  She wrenched sideways and the point skidded across her top. As the draconian stumbled, caught off balance, she rolled and pulled her feet in, then pistoned them into his groin. Flipping onto her feet, she grabbed the handle of his pike and yanked it from his grip. She whipped it sideways, striking him hard in the side of his head.

  He fell to his knees, stunned. She was already spinning around, his pike still in her hands, and charging toward the back stall. Eyal turned to see her coming just as she leaped over the half-wall and dropped in beside Hedya, crouched next to Ash’s unconscious form.

  Piper grabbed the woman by the hair—payback—and flung her away from Ash. Then she leveled the pike at the woman’s chest and crouched defensively between Ash and the draconian.

  “Stay away from him,” she snarled.

  Hedya flicked a hand up. Her blast of magic hit Piper in the torso at point-blank range, hurling her into the rock wall. Her head struck the stone and stars shot across her vision, but she managed to land on her feet, half tripping on Ash’s legs. Pulling one hand off the pike, she flung it out at Hedya. Her swirl of blue and purple magic smashed into Hedya’s shield, dissolving it in a burst of orange light. Piper struck with the pike at the same instant, slamming the butt end into the woman’s sternum.

  Hedya staggered back, gasping. Eyal made to lunge forward but she grabbed his arm, pulling him back several steps. The third draconian rushed up, stopping on Hedya’s other side. Piper tensed, spinning the pike to point the blade at them, heart pounding as she waited for their next attack.

  Still breathing hard from the strike to the chest, Hedya’s pale eyes moved from Piper, to Ash behind her, and then to Zwi crouched beside Piper’s ankle, the dragonet less than intimidating wrapped in seaweed to support her wings but snarling viciously nonetheless.

  She rubbed a hand over her chest and gave Piper a hard look. “You used the wrong end.”

  Piper didn’t lower her weapon. “You had lots of chances to kill me too.”

  Hedya’s eyes narrowed. Piper had realized after the fact that her fight with the two males, which had felt so desperate at the time, had been devoid of any intent to kill her. They hadn’t even used magic on her; they could have blasted her to smithereens.

  The woman looked from Zwi, snarling beside Piper’s ankles, back to Piper. She reached up and pulled the wrap off her face. She was older than Piper had judged, maybe forty—though as she’d recently learned, her attempts to guess draconian ages were pointless.

  “What’s wrong with him? Is he injured? Sick?”

  The rapid-fire questions took Piper by surprise. She reluctantly lifted the point of the pike and set the butt end on the ground, keenly aware of Ash behind her.

  “I’m not sure,” she replied slowly. “We were … attacked … and now he won’t wake up.”

  Hedya slashed another look across Ash, then turned to her comrades. “Tiran, if you go fast, you should be able to catch Eliada before she leaves the outpost.”

  The draconian nodded and spun on his heel, striding away from them to the exit of the cave. Piper’s eyes darted from him to the other two, frustration rising in her that she couldn’t stop him. The last thing she wanted were more potentially hostile draconians.

  Hedya focused on Piper again. “You said you were attacked. By what?”

  She hesitated. She didn’t want to tell them about the dragon. Shona had told the story of the dragon king with solemn passion, and reverence had tinged Coby’s voice when she had spoken of the great dragons. Piper didn’t know what it meant that a dragon had attacked Ash or how the draconians would perceive it.

  “I don’t remember what attacked us,” she told them. “I was knocked out, and when I came to, h
e was unconscious. Our gear is up the mountain and I can’t get to it. I hid us here while I figured out what to do.”

  “Were you burned in this attack?” Eyal asked, pointing at her blistered arms. Some of the blisters had ruptured during the fight and blood streaked her skin.

  “Yes. I …”

  “You can’t tell us anything about your attacker?” Hedya said, her voice hardening with demand. “You don’t recall what smashed through the stone balconies and scorched half the lakeshore black? You don’t know how you were burned?”

  Piper shook her head mutely, not trusting herself to lie convincingly.

  “We need to know what we’re facing,” Eyal said, his tone much gentler than Hedya’s. He obviously suspected she was hiding things. “Something that could do that kind of damage is a great threat.”

  He had no idea how much of a threat. She shook her head again.

  Hedya hissed in annoyance. “Do you have a name, haemon?”

  “Piper.”

  “And him?” She jerked her chin at Ash.

  Piper said nothing. Ire flashed in Hedya’s eyes, darkening them from pale blue to cobalt.

  “You said you were here to hide. From what?”

  Piper debated whether she could get away with another lie. But what plausible excuse could she give for why a haemon and an unconscious Taroth were alone in an abandoned draconian city thousands of miles from anything?

  “We’re hiding from the Hades family.”

  Eyal shifted his weight uneasily but he didn’t look surprised. The draconians living here had to know that Hades was a threat to them; after all, the Hades family had to be the main reason they lived in secret so deep in the mountains.

  Hedya flexed her jaw. “So he is one of the Hades draconians.”

  “Not anymore,” she snapped, stiffening at the woman’s condemning tone. “And never by choice. Do you even know what Samael does to the draconians he captures?”

  “We’ve heard rumors,” Hedya said coldly, “but no, we don’t know, because any of our loved ones who fall into Hades hands are never seen again.”