own blood soaking into her undershirt as the drakini launched into the air, dragging her with it. The pain was so sudden, so unexpected, that Abigail didn’t fully comprehend what was happening until she was a good twenty feet in the air. She dropped her bow, a magical gift that had served her so well for so long—it was useless in this moment.
She drew the Thinblade. Even grasping for it in a moment of desperation, when she couldn’t get a good hold on the hilt, the Sword of Kings still felt like it was made for her hand. The drakini’s legs came free of the rest of its body just below the knees.
Abigail fell.
She hit the ground hard, breaking her left leg with a loud snap, sending a jolt of pain so intense that she forgot to breathe. Anatoly hobbled up, scooping up her bow along the way, kneeling next to her, looking into her eyes and nodding.
“She’s hurt, help me get her onto the dragon.”
Magda took his instruction without question or debate, stabilizing Abigail while Anatoly maneuvered her onto Ixabrax’s neck.
The remaining drakini were fleeing the aerie in the face of the four furious dragons. Ixabrax launched into the night sky with a roar and his family followed him. He flew low and steady toward the crevasse, landing near the edge and letting Anatoly and Magda go to work on Abigail while waiting for the rest of his family to arrive.
Alexander appeared, standing over his sister while Anatoly fashioned a splint.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Been better,” Abigail said through gritted teeth. Then she passed out, overwhelmed by pain when Anatoly set the bone and fastened the splint in place. He worked quickly and efficiently, with a mixture of great care and emotional detachment.
With her leg set, Magda broke some pungent flower buds open under Abigail’s nose and roused her from her pain-induced unconsciousness. She woke stunned from the pain, but managed to accept it and take it into her, mastering the hold it had over her and regaining some control over her body.
Magda cast what limited healing magic she had over the leg, but it was a small remedy next to the kind of magic contained in a healing draught. Next, Magda cast a spell that numbed the pain, not removing it exactly, just making it feel like it was far away and unimportant. Abigail began to relax and clear her head.
Once his family had landed, Ixabrax introduced them to Alexander and Abigail.
Izzulft stepped forward. “I speak for my family. I will hear what you wish to say.”
“My name is Alexander Reishi. I am at war with Zuhl, and he’s using your family against my soldiers. Help me free your remaining children so he can never use dragons against us again.”
“Motives that I understand,” Izzulft said, regarding Alexander intently. “Bargain struck. What is your plan?”
“I’ll tell you where they are, you hold them down, and Abigail cuts their collars.”
“Simple, direct, and effective,” Izzulft said. “I like it. Proceed.”
Alexander vanished for a minute or so and then reappeared. “All three just launched from the aerie and they’re headed this way, backed up by a hundred drakini or more. All three dragons have riders … one of them looks like Zuhl.”
“I’m not ready to fight yet,” Abigail said. “My leg is broken. I can’t even stand.”
“No, but you could ride,” Alexander said. “Tie on to Ixabrax’s neck and he’ll get you close enough to cut the collar while Izzulft holds the dragon down and everyone else watches your back. Go from one to the next, taking the rider first, then freeing the dragon.”
Abigail grimaced in pain, nodding nonetheless.
“I know it hurts, Abby. I wish there was another way.”
“Me too,” she said, turning to Anatoly. “Help me tie on to Ixabrax. If we’re going to do this, I need Magda riding another dragon to attack the enemy riders.”
“I will allow it,” Nix said.
Magda bowed formally with the utmost respect to Ixabrax’s mother.
“You will ride my youngest, Human,” Izzulft said to Anatoly. “This battle is liable to stretch out across leagues … we wouldn’t want to misplace you.”
Anatoly grumbled to himself but held his tongue.
Abigail was relieved that the agony of getting mounted atop Ixabrax was finally over, that her pain had subsided into a low throb, but she knew it wouldn’t last. The battle would be an exercise in agony. Flight required using your arms and legs to remain stable in your saddle … more so when you didn’t have a saddle.