The world shook around them from their roars and the way the two dragons kept smashing into treetops. It almost seemed like the Colorado mountains were experiencing an earthquake. Jolly’s grip on the dagger faltered as he had to grab for support to keep from falling, and Gemma ducked away from him. She didn’t get far though, landing on her hands and knees on the rocky floor.
Jolly didn’t seem to care, his pleading eyes focused on the fight above them just as Gemma’s were. Remington grabbed for Devon, catching him by the neck, and Devon’s roar deafened Gemma as the red dragon flung him into a mountain, snow rattling down the slopes as the dragon’s massive body hit it. Gemma watched Devon scramble back on his feet, one leg wobbly from the earlier bite and looking a bit disoriented from the hit. Blue blood colored the snow on the high mountain, and Gemma covered her mouth with her hands as she saw Remington lunge straight for Devon, teeth bared and bloodlust in his eyes.
Devon turned just in time to catch the other dragon, his teeth sinking into Remington’s long, gold and red neck.
“No!” Jolly screamed, seeing Remington thrash and fight against the grip, long nails scraping at Devon’s face and sides as the Bluewing clamped down hard. With difficulty, Remington managed to struggle himself free, but not before Devon caught his wounded wing again and ripped through it, creating an even longer tear and making the wing droop pitifully at Remington’s side.
For a moment, they stood away from one another, panting and eyeing each other with rage and exhaustion. Inexplicably, it reminded Gemma of the exact moment that had been depicted in the books between Daedalus Bluewing and Roman Redblade – two wounded but great warriors facing one another, both strong and powerful but only one could come out as the victor. The snow was colored red and blue around them, the blood flowing freely from the many wounds the dragons had suffered.
Neither one was fit to fly anymore, judging by the labored panting and the way Remington held his wing. Devon’s nostrils flared, and he drove forth once more, covering the distance between himself and Remington with playful ease, even though each step left a trail of blood.
Their blood curling screams filled the sky again as they locked together and slipped down the slope, bringing snow down with them. But just then, other voices joined theirs – one deeper, with an almost metallic ring to it, and a pair of others that were higher and more melodic. Gemma thought that nothing could surprise her any more that day, but she was wrong again.
The sky seemed not big enough for the three dragons barreling down on them, a dragon with metallic green scales leading the way and two, who shined like pure gold right behind him. The green one roared as he swooped down, and the other two followed, looking impossibly somber, though their eyes burned.
“NO!” Jolly screamed, running forward on the roof. “Let them finish this!” he begged to no one in particular, much too far to be heard by any of the dragons.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Gemma
The three new arrivals, whom Gemma recognized as Greenmeadow and Goldplains dragons, landed at a respectful distance from the fighting duo, tucking their wings and watching with quiet, worried expressions. Gemma saw the Greenmeadow dragon’s chest puff, and she already knew that it meant his fire was burning bright, but he restrained himself, only snarling ever so slightly at the sight before him.
“Why aren’t they stopping them!?” Gemma asked, her voice deafened by the roars of the wounded dragons.
“They know they can’t,” Jolly cheered, a feverish look on his face. “It must be settled by the two themselves!”
With agonizing slowness, Gemma saw Devon careen his head around as Remington tried to grab the back of his neck, and caught the red dragon’s lower jaw in his grip. She heard a crack that sounded like a building collapsing and then a hissed screech as Remington began thrashing wildly, almost mewling in pain. Devon shivered with exhaustion, his legs barely keeping him up, but he held on without faltering.
“Oh my god,” Gemma whispered, her eyes never leaving the dueling dragons. She fished out the dragon stone and locked it in her palms.
Please come back to me, she begged, watching Remington scratch and tear at Devon’s face and soft underbelly, causing wound after wound. But Devon wouldn’t let go. In a last ditch effort, dark red flames puffed from Remington’s maw, tumbling over both of the dragons, but they died quickly and left both of them with burns as they were too weak to fight it.
With bated breath, Gemma witnessed Remington slump in Devon’s grip, too weak to hold himself up any longer. He collapsed on top of the blue-black dragon, and Devon struggled out from under him, still holding on to Remington’s neck and jaw. Another crack that felt like it could splinter bones in Gemma’s own body, and then, Cillian Greenmeadow sprang forward, tearing Devon away from Remington. He put himself between the red dragon and Devon, standing ground firmly with his chest rumbling with flames.