above. He knew not if the ambush would come at any moment or if they had far yet to travel.
When a dragon-kin swooped out of the sky, Raef felt a twinge of unease in his chest. The rider dismounted and spoke quietly to the First, who nodded, said something in return, and then continued on. They did not stop, they did nothing, and the kin left as quickly as it had come. It could have been meaningless, but Raef gave silent thanks to Odin that Lorcan had left his hands unbound. There were weapons all around him. He need only get his hands on one.
When the trees thinned and the ground grew dry beneath their feet, Raef knew something had gone wrong. Finnoul had said they would attack before the progression left the shelter of the trees and Raef could see the desolate waste ahead of them. He kept his eyes forward and plodded on.
With the trees behind them, the relentless sun beat down, baking the ground until it cracked. Before they descended into the maze of rock, Raef could see the plateau in the distance. There was no easy path. They wound among sharp spires and bottomless clefts, the shadows of dragon-kin passing over as their sentries kept watch from above. Raef risked a glance up into the blue. It was enough to tell him that there were fewer warriors above them than there should have been. Others must be engaged elsewhere and that could only mean Finnoul had been discovered.
Two steps and Raef could have a sword in his hands. And another six at his throat. It was tempting, the blade that hung on the hip of the warrior just ahead of him, just out of reach. If he drew it, the odds would be impossible but he suspected the Guardians would demand he live long enough to complete the sacrifice. Resistance on Raef’s part could give Finnoul time. Or ensure Raef’s death. He thought of his father, of his promise of vengeance, and tried to imagine what Einarr would do. He did not know, and in his uncertainty, he waited.
Soon the plateau came into sight again, taller than all else, smooth and flat in a ragged, scarred landscape. They began the ascent, winding up a steep path that had been walked before. Raef was only steps from the top when the screams reached his ears. In an instant, all eyes were on the sky and at last Raef knew what had happened to Finnoul and her warriors.
Far in the distance, a battle raged amid the brilliant blue. The dragon-kin were tiny shapes, diving, clawing, killing. The sound of their screaming was the only noise of battle that reached the plateau and for a moment they all watched in silence. Then the kin that hovered above them answered the calls and the quiet was broken.
Hands seized Raef and dragged him to the top of the plateau. Some kin tried to fly to join the fight, but were held back as orders were shouted for the warriors to remain in place and protect the Guardians. Raef was shoved to his knees, his head forced down so he could see nothing but the cracked, dusty ground, but a warrior strayed too close and Raef’s hands found the hilt of a sword. Swinging wildly, Raef came to his feet. The warriors jumped back to avoid Raef’s blade, but one was too slow and the edge ripped open his chest. Frozen, he swayed, his eyes wide, then fell on his face. The others overcame their surprise and drew their weapons. They came at him with speed. One, two, Raef evaded, and buried his sword in the third, but then, as Raef could hear the First screaming to keep him alive, they fell on him from all sides. Immobilized and forced to the ground, the sword was wrenched from him as his face was shoved into the dead warrior’s pooling blood. Spitting, Raef tried to rise, but it was no use.
When he lay still, the First came to stand by his head. The Guardian bent over and laid a cool hand on Raef’s cheek. The fingers ran over the blood that covered Raef’s jaw and then came to rest under his chin, forcing Raef to look up at him. The First’s colorless eyes were calm.
“You should not resist, Midgardian,”
When a dragon-kin swooped out of the sky, Raef felt a twinge of unease in his chest. The rider dismounted and spoke quietly to the First, who nodded, said something in return, and then continued on. They did not stop, they did nothing, and the kin left as quickly as it had come. It could have been meaningless, but Raef gave silent thanks to Odin that Lorcan had left his hands unbound. There were weapons all around him. He need only get his hands on one.
When the trees thinned and the ground grew dry beneath their feet, Raef knew something had gone wrong. Finnoul had said they would attack before the progression left the shelter of the trees and Raef could see the desolate waste ahead of them. He kept his eyes forward and plodded on.
With the trees behind them, the relentless sun beat down, baking the ground until it cracked. Before they descended into the maze of rock, Raef could see the plateau in the distance. There was no easy path. They wound among sharp spires and bottomless clefts, the shadows of dragon-kin passing over as their sentries kept watch from above. Raef risked a glance up into the blue. It was enough to tell him that there were fewer warriors above them than there should have been. Others must be engaged elsewhere and that could only mean Finnoul had been discovered.
Two steps and Raef could have a sword in his hands. And another six at his throat. It was tempting, the blade that hung on the hip of the warrior just ahead of him, just out of reach. If he drew it, the odds would be impossible but he suspected the Guardians would demand he live long enough to complete the sacrifice. Resistance on Raef’s part could give Finnoul time. Or ensure Raef’s death. He thought of his father, of his promise of vengeance, and tried to imagine what Einarr would do. He did not know, and in his uncertainty, he waited.
Soon the plateau came into sight again, taller than all else, smooth and flat in a ragged, scarred landscape. They began the ascent, winding up a steep path that had been walked before. Raef was only steps from the top when the screams reached his ears. In an instant, all eyes were on the sky and at last Raef knew what had happened to Finnoul and her warriors.
Far in the distance, a battle raged amid the brilliant blue. The dragon-kin were tiny shapes, diving, clawing, killing. The sound of their screaming was the only noise of battle that reached the plateau and for a moment they all watched in silence. Then the kin that hovered above them answered the calls and the quiet was broken.
Hands seized Raef and dragged him to the top of the plateau. Some kin tried to fly to join the fight, but were held back as orders were shouted for the warriors to remain in place and protect the Guardians. Raef was shoved to his knees, his head forced down so he could see nothing but the cracked, dusty ground, but a warrior strayed too close and Raef’s hands found the hilt of a sword. Swinging wildly, Raef came to his feet. The warriors jumped back to avoid Raef’s blade, but one was too slow and the edge ripped open his chest. Frozen, he swayed, his eyes wide, then fell on his face. The others overcame their surprise and drew their weapons. They came at him with speed. One, two, Raef evaded, and buried his sword in the third, but then, as Raef could hear the First screaming to keep him alive, they fell on him from all sides. Immobilized and forced to the ground, the sword was wrenched from him as his face was shoved into the dead warrior’s pooling blood. Spitting, Raef tried to rise, but it was no use.
When he lay still, the First came to stand by his head. The Guardian bent over and laid a cool hand on Raef’s cheek. The fingers ran over the blood that covered Raef’s jaw and then came to rest under his chin, forcing Raef to look up at him. The First’s colorless eyes were calm.
“You should not resist, Midgardian,”
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