Sirens
“Asahi, can you take the wheel?” Nali asked nearly an hour into their journey.
“Of course,” he replied.
She stepped aside when he reached for the wheel. Unable to resist the urge, she slid her hand across his lower back when she moved away. Heady pleasure coursed through her at the smoldering look in his eyes.
A movement in the water next to their vessel reminded her of why she wanted Asahi to take over the steering. She crossed the deck to the bow and sat down. Holding onto a thick cleat, she leaned over and looked into the clear water. Dozens of Water Sirens danced in the boat’s wake.
She closed her eyes and listened to what they were saying. The whispered words sounded like a song. Their almost childlike voices were threaded with worry and fear.
“The darkness is coming, Empress.”
“Where did you see it?” she asked.
“It has taken over one of the giant eels at the mouth of the lake. Even as we speak, it moves along the bottom of the lake, heading for the Mystic Mountains,” the sirens responded.
“Warn the changelings,” she instructed.
“They know and have taken refuge. We will try to slow it down,” they replied.
“Be careful. Do not let it near enough to touch you,” she warned.
“We will be careful, Empress,” they promised.
Nali watched the sirens swim away from the bow of the boat and disappear back into deeper water. Haunted by the images of blood and death revealed in the Goddess’s Mirror, she stared at the mountains ahead of them. She was afraid—not for herself, but for her people, for her world, for the many worlds out there that would perish if they failed.
She brushed her hand across her cheek. Looking down at her fingers, she stared at the moisture. Another droplet landed on her palm, and she realized that she was crying.
She took a shuddering breath and curled her fingers into a fist. She looked up in determination at the mountain shrouded in clouds. They would reach it in another couple of hours.
“Return as quickly as you can, Ashure. I need you,” she whispered into the wind.
Isle of the Dragons
Ashure wobbled on the Adze’s back for a moment before he straightened. He pressed his booted feet against its side to keep from sliding off, so of course, the damn thing tried to buck him off again. If he survived this flight, he was going to have a serious talk with Nali about her transportation choice.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he glimpsed the Isle of the Dragons’ jagged mountains ahead. Now, if only he could get this infernal creature to land without trying to kill him. His butt hurt, his back hurt, his head pounded with the same cadence as the rapid beat of the creature’s wings, and his arms ached from holding on so tightly. To top it off, he was covered in salty sea spray because the huge bug was flying too close for comfort above the rolling ocean waves. Also, the constant wind was seriously irritating his skin.
As they neared the cliffs, the Adze suddenly changed direction, climbing in an almost vertical flight path up the cliff’s sheer rock face. Ashure uttered a loud curse, wrapped his arms around the dragonfly’s neck, and held on for dear life. He yanked his right arm back when the flying vampire tried to bite him, making him almost lose his seat—again.
They crested the top of the cliff and kept flying higher. It wasn’t until the Adze swerved to the left that Ashure realized it was aiming for a balcony near the top of the palace. He gaped in alarm when he noticed Drago’s tall frame standing in the precise spot where the evil vampire-devil dragonfly was heading.
“Mercy, this beast is trying to kill me,” he muttered a second before the dragonfly suddenly stopped in midair, flipped up its backside, and sent him flying.
For a second, Ashure almost wished he had a way to capture the look of stunned disbelief on Drago’s face. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have had the time even if he wanted to take a photo of the moment. He imagined his own face reflected the same shocked surprise.
“What—?” Drago hissed as the breath was knocked out of him.
Ashure winced as he collided with Drago, and the impact slid them across the floor. In the few moments before Drago recovered his wits, Ashure debated whether he was grateful for this development. On the one hand, being this close to the enraged King of Dragons would