“They’ll believe us.” Alastair tightened his scabbard in its harness across his back and helped me to my feet. “They must.”
I looked up at the peak Akarra had indicated. The foothills weren’t far, but the summit was lost in clouds. “How far is it to Pendragon from here?”
“Two days. Maybe two and a half, depending on the wind. The gusts turn treacherous this side of the peaks. It’ll be difficult going as it is.”
It was a foolish hope anyway. If we were to face the mountains, I’d at least not let us go on empty stomachs. A fleeting smile touched Alastair’s lips as I broke the last stale slice of bread and with a look of loathing handed it to him.
“I feel the same,” he said.
“Tell me Madam Gretna doesn’t keep any bardsbread in the larder at Pendragon,” I said. “I never want to see another piece as long as I live.”
“Consider it banished.”
Akarra inhaled the rest of the smoked fish. We took turns sharing the waterskins, and once we finished, I filled the empty skins with snow and hung them beneath the saddle flaps to melt as we flew. The meal hadn’t touched the yawning hunger in the pit of my stomach, merely outlined it, calling attention to how large it really was, but it was better than nothing. The knotted ache that had been growing in the back of my head for the last few hours began to unravel. That we’d now consumed the last of our stores was a fact I tried to ignore. Food, warmth, rest. It’s all waiting right up there, I thought. Just make it up the mountain.
The Dragonsmoor Mountains were taller than they looked.
“How long—do you think—to the peak?” I managed, squinting against the reflected light from the snow below. Even under overcast skies it hurt to look down, and I cringed to think what it would’ve been like in full sun. My knees and thighs ached from gripping the saddle and I was starting to lose feeling in my fingers again. Before us the mountains rose to the very roof of the world, already growing violet with the evening.
“Half an hour if the wind holds,” Alastair said. His breath was warm against my ear. Since the snow had stopped, he’d consented to sit behind me, though I soon realized it was less of a concession and more of an attempt to keep me firmly in the saddle. Akarra hadn’t exaggerated; the winds here were unpredictable, and they snatched at us each time she banked. I was glad of his arms around my waist.
“Twice that,” Akarra said. Her voice was thin and strained. She didn’t try to speak again.
Slopes of icy scree passed beneath us. A few tenacious pines clung to the higher crags, but they grew thinner and farther between the higher we flew, until we passed the tree line altogether and the world faded into shades of gray and white. We flew in silence, filled only by the sound of Akarra’s laboring wings and the rush of wind and the frosty rattle of Alastair’s breath in my ears.
After a few minutes he leaned close again. “How’s your nose?”
I checked. “No blood yet.”
“We’ll have to—”
An updraft caught Akarra on her downstroke, and I cried out as the world slid sideways. Her wings beat the air madly. We dropped, were flung back, and were driven upward before a sudden gust.
“Akarra, reqet!” Alastair shouted.
The saddle shifted. Tears stung my eyes as the wind tore at us, tossing Akarra between updrafts like a cat batting a moth. Up became down and down became blinding white and unforgiving blue and the steel-gray of stone. I grabbed Akarra’s shoulder spikes. The saddle slipped another inch.
“Don’t let go!” Alastair bellowed. “Whatever you—”
There was a jerk. His words trailed off into a scream that cut me to the bone.
“ALASTAIR!”
I flung myself after him, reaching for leather, for bearskin, for anything. My hand found the edge of his cloak and I held on as if the life of the whole world depended on it. With a jerk that nearly tore my shoulder out of its socket, he stopped falling.
“Akarra!” I screamed. “Land now!”
A shadow fell across her back.
“Let go!” a new voice said, deep and rolling as thunder. The saddle twisted beneath me and I saw wings and scales and tongues of fire burning away the clouds. Alastair shouted something, but another gust of wind swept the words away. New pain pierced my shoulder and my strength gave out as the saddle tore from my grasp. We fell.
“Alast—ow!”
Something hard dug into my ribs, driving the breath clean from my lungs as it arrested my fall. Half blinded by the wind, I felt around to see what had caught me. Scales? Scales and talons and . . .
“Aliza? You—all right?”
I swung toward the sound of Alastair’s voice and my heart nearly burst with relief. He hung a few feet away, looking equally relieved, though it was difficult to make out his exact expression. The strange dragon had caught him upside down.
“Mind your Riders, kes-ahla!” that voice boomed again. “I’ll not have you dropping them on our doorstep.”
I looked up. Iron-gray scales gouged with many years of battle scars blocked the sun. The dragon peered down at us. His eyes burned pale blue, the color of marshfires.
“Well now, two Daireds! Lykasha!” he cried, and a smaller bronze dragon dipped out of the clouds to our left. “Fly ahead and tell the Vehryshi to assemble.” The bronze dragon disappeared. “I assume that’s who you’re here to see, young Daireds,” he said, “unless this is just an honorary visit?”
Akarra answered in Eth. Her voice was distant, tired. She struggled to keep up. The older dragon made a conciliatory sound in his throat that rumbled in all my bones.
“We’ll have you sorted soon,” the dragon said in Arlean. “Hold on now, and kes-ahla, quret!” A single upstroke sent the ground spinning into nothingness below us. The wind screamed in my ears and frost crystallized on my eyelashes. There was warmth beneath the dragon’s scales but none in his talons, which held my arms pinned to my side. I squirmed, trying to free a hand. “None of that now, little one!” the dragon boomed. “We’ll be there soon.”
I gave up and slumped over his claw. Wind whipped ice-sharpened strands of hair into my face, my eyes, my mouth, and I tasted sweat and blood—blood? Oh, blast. Of course the nosebleed would wait until now. I closed my eyes. We’d be there soon and this would all be worth it. Food. Warm beds. Solid ground. Food. Warm beds. Solid ground. Food—
Burning golden sunlight pierced my eyelids. “Ah! Here we are.” The light dimmed and the wingbeats on either side of me ceased. There was a bump, a bit of grunting, and the claws loosened. I felt warm stone beneath me. “There.”
I opened my eyes. I lay facedown next to Alastair on the floor of an enormous cavern. Firelight danced across the uncut stone in front of us. I squinted over my shoulder to see Akarra land at the lip of the cavern, her silhouette black and weary against the darkening blue of the sky beyond. She hurried forward and touched Alastair with her snout.
“Khela, are you all right?” she asked. “And you, Aliza? I didn’t mean . . . the wind caught me by surprise. I thought—Aliza, you’re bleeding!”
“S’nothing,” I said, and dabbed at my nose with my last swatch of clean sleeve, of which there was little, then none. “It’ll pass.”