A Night of Dragon Wings - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,96

northern alliance truly defeat Solina, or would they crash against the shores of Tiranor?

A growl rose in her throat.

Perhaps we fly to death, she thought. But I will fight by my king. I will never more abandon him. I will show him that I've grown brave.

She narrowed her eyes, snarled, and flew.

They flew for a long time.

Dawn turned to noon, and the sun burned above; already it felt hotter than the sun of Requiem. They kept flying. Treale's wings ached and she snorted smoke. Her lungs blazed. She wanted to slow down—her body screamed for it—but when she looked around her, the other dragons still beat their wings mightily. Treale growled and kept flying.

"Stop wobbling!" Jadin said on her back. "Treale, darling, are you getting tired?"

"Tired of hearing your voice, boy," she said. "Save it for your battle cries."

The noon sun trailed down in the sky. When Treale looked behind her, she saw that the army's formations had loosened. Griffins, salvanae, and Vir Requis now trailed behind her, the slower flyers dragging like a wake. King Elethor, however, flew far ahead of her now; Treale could see his brass scales glinting hundreds of yards ahead. By his side, she saw Lyana's blue scales, Bayrin's green ones, and Mori's gold.

I will fight by their side.

Treale snarled and flew faster.

"That's more like it," Jadin said. "Go, little dragon, go!"

Treale's breath ached. Her eyes stung. Her wings screamed with pain. The sun hung low in the sky when finally she saw rocky beaches ahead leading to a dead, golden desert.

"Tiranor," she whispered.

She drew flame into her throat, bared her fangs, and shot forward. Soon she flew by her king. Elethor was staring ahead with narrowed eyes, and smoke streamed from between his teeth. She gave him a nod and a grim smile; he returned the same.

"I fly by you, Elethor," she said, fire flickering in her mouth.

He growled and stared forward, and his claws flexed. "Be strong, Lady Treale. Be brave. We fly together." He looked at her and his eyes softened, and Treale could weep, because she saw that he did remember, that he too had never forgotten that night. "Stay safe, Treale. You are among the bravest, strongest dragons in Requiem, and you will make me proud this night."

I love you, Elethor, she wanted to say. I love you always; from that night upon the hill until today and every day after this one. Always. Always.

Yet she did not have to utter those words; in his eyes, she saw that he knew, and that though he was wed to another—though he loved Lyana with all his heart—he loved her too. That soothed her. That would give her strength this night.

Lyana came to fly at their side, flames snorting from her nostrils. Bayrin and Mori joined them, flying so close their wings almost touched. Behind them spread thousands of other dragons, the last of their kind, and as the sun fell, their flames lit the darkness.

They streamed toward the Tiran shore.

The sun dipped into the sea.

From the dunes of Tiranor, a dark host rose, and countless nephilim soared, screeched, and flew toward them.

LYANA

The sky burst with the demon horde.

The beasts swarmed from the sands, myriads like clouds of locusts. Lyana roared, beat her wings, and drove forward. Her fellow dragons roared at her sides, and behind them cried the griffins and salvanae. The beasts ahead shrieked, their voices so high-pitched and deafening, the dragons' riders screamed.

Stars save us, Lyana thought, fear chilling her. They knew we were coming. They knew where we'd land. These are no mere sentinels patrolling the border; this is an army bred to crush our invasion.

"Hang on tight, Wila!" Lyana shouted to the woman who rode her, a young captain of Osanna. "This is going to get rough."

She stormed forward. The nephilim shot toward her, eyes blazing and jaws snapping and bat wings wafting their stench.

The two armies crashed above the beach.

Dragons slammed into nephilim. Fire exploded and rained and shot in pillars everywhere. Claws lashed and fangs bit, and from the backs of dragons, a rain of arrows whistled, red shards in the firelight.

"Lyana, your left!" Wila cried from her back.

Lyana banked and saw a nephil swoop her way, claws outstretched. Wila shot her bow, and an arrow slammed into the beast; it bucked and shrieked and kept swooping. Lyana roared her fire, and the nephil blazed.

Lyana banked again, narrowing dodging the flaming beast as it fell. Wila screamed and held out her shield, and the nephil's