Dragonlands(262)

The wind raked through his hair and lashed at his face, stinging his eyes. Connor’s wings beat against the currents, refusing to give nature an advantage over them. Nothing would stop the two of them from reaching the war. Both had children to protect. Both had a driving need to make the world safer for the next generation.

Bastian scanned the dragonriders of the Black, looking for Tressa, but he didn’t see her. No matter. He’d find her after the battle. He’d tell her what Elinor had done. Together, Tressa, Connor, and Bastian would find a resolution. That was the source of all of their problems. Once they’d been separated, everything spun out of control. Together, the three of them were unstoppable.

Even if Bastian and Tressa never found their way back to each other, even if she insisted on staying with that traitorous Jarrett, they still needed to work together. Connor was the brains. Bastian was the brawn. Tressa was the heart. Just as they’d always been.

Connor swooped between two ebony dragons, settling into the pattern. The other dragons nodded their heads, and the riders raised a fist in the air. Until Fotia and Vatra grew to full size, Connor was the only Blue dragon who could join in battle. The other dragons knew the significance of his appearance.

Bastian raised his sword as the dragons broke rank when the Red horde arrived. Connor weaved in and out of the fray, Bastian thrusting at the Red, both dragon and rider. He clutched Connor’s scales with one hand, his nails digging into the hard skin. Bastian wished they’d had time to procure a saddle like the other riders. His thighs strained against Connor, the scales digging in, piercing Bastian’s skin. Blood welled up, staining his pants. Still, he held on and fought.

His arm weary, his chest exhausted from the strained breaths, Bastian slumped against Connor. Despite being unable to communicate with words, Connor seemed to understand Bastian needed a break. He fell back behind the main thrust of the flying army. For the first time he could see the balls of fire coming from the ground.

Bastian glanced down, tracing their path to the source.

Jarrett.

The lying bastard. Jarrett wasn’t just a humble warrior. He had more magic in him than he’d dared let any of them know. Tressa stood next to Jarrett, her fists clenched, her dark hair blowing in the wind.

Bastian’s heart ached. He wanted to go down there, sweep her away from Jarrett, and fly her to safety. But she’d made her choice.

Bastian’s eyes were pulled back to the battle. The fire from the dragons’ mouths mingled with the balls coming from Jarrett. Bastian begrudgingly admitted that the man was helping them.

A moment later, a Black dragon howled, its neck snapping downward, its eyes trained on Jarrett. Bastian looked again. The crazed man laughed, his shoulders shaking, as fireballs continued to burst from his palms, landing on not just the Red, but also now the Black dragons.

“What in the name of all that’s holy?” Bastian dug his heels into Connor’s sides, pushing down with his hands, hoping Connor understood.

He did. They rushed down toward the ground. Bastian knew Connor’s need to stop Jarrett was strong, if not stronger, than his own. Connor swooped over Jarrett, narrowly avoiding a fireball. It skimmed the edge of Bastian’s knee. His pants smoldered.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Bastian muttered through clenched teeth.

Connor reared back, a familiar popping noise coming from his throat.

“No!” Bastian tugged on Connor’s neck. “Tressa’s down there. Don’t!” He hoped Connor understood.

Connor roared. Bastian could feel the dragon’s frustration as its muscles tightened in torturous restraint.

“Take me down,” Bastian screamed, nudging Connor with his heels.

Connor dove toward the ground. Bastian jumped from his back, rolling across the ground on his shoulder. He popped to his feet, his sword at the ready. Heart pounding, sweat dripping down his forehead, Bastian waved Tressa away from Jarrett.

“No!” She shook her head, refusing the leave the maniac’s side.

Couldn’t she see how twisted her lover had become?

Bastian leapt toward Jarrett, his sword pointed at the man’s chest.

Jarrett’s eyes left the sky and trained on Bastian. He held out one hand, and Bastian felt a tightness grip his throat.

No. Not again. He couldn’t fight this magic. Not with a sword. Not with his brawn. He was useless. Bastian glanced at Tressa, her eyes widening in horror.

As the squeezing intensified, Bastian gasped for air. His hand lost its grip on his sword and it clattered to the ground, landing useless on the pebbled beach.

Bastian dropped to his knees. Still, he fought, moving ever closer to Jarrett. Muscles bulged in his thighs as he moved toward the man, not giving up. He’d already distracted Jarrett from shooting fireballs at the sky. Now Bastian had only one goal: kill the man.