Assassin's Blade

"What Have I Done?"

Ryelleth roared and reared up, taking the brunt of the flames against her chest – a war dragon maneuver done to protect their riders. Fia made herself as small as possible on Ryelleth's back. Blistering heat and deathly flames broke against Ry's body as a wave breaks across the rocks.

She held her breath to keep her lungs from being scorched by fire, and she shut her eyes tight, clinging to Ryelleth in fear. The flames went on and on until every part of her screamed with pain from the fire and the super-heated air.

With a surge of power, Ryelleth winged up into the air, out of the flames, rising higher and higher.

Now cool air surrounded Fia. She wheezed in air, immediately choking – but her goatskin gloves were burning. Shit. She smacked them out on the sides of her asbestos dress, wincing in pain. She'd been burned but there was no time to look at the damage.

"I told you to spend a few coins on asbestos gloves," she muttered to herself, seizing the forward strap. Her hands were shaking, but she leaned against Ryelleth's neck, as her dragon was still rising. "Pursue," she called, voice quavering, sliding her hand forward across Ry's neck toward the green racer, a directional signal.

Ryelleth pitched herself directly at the green racer, which was rising swiftly out of the fogbank. But, to Fia's astonishment, part of the fogbank rose into the air with the escaping dragon, partly shielding it from view.

"No fog does that on its own," Fia muttered. Clearly some evil magic was at work.

As the green racer rose, Fia could glimpse two people on its back through the fog. One was the dragonrider. The second man was her father, wearing his red robes of state.

"Daddy!" Fia shouted, though the deep bruise in her side hurt at her cry. "Ry, follow them! Don't let them get away!"

Ryelleth growled with determination and blazed after them in pursuit.

The small green dragon clapped its wings and shot away so fast that Fia couldn't help but gasp. The racers were bred to be light, powerful – and very, very fast.

There was no way that Ryelleth, her big pudgy dragon, could keep up with that. Ry hadn't been exercised or trained as the racers had been, not for years.

But Fia leaned forward on Ryelleth's neck like a jockey urging her horse on to a win. "Go, go go go," she cried.

Ryelleth lowered her head. Her wings came down like thunder, and suddenly they were hurtling across the skies.

Fia's fingers went white-knuckled on the forward strap, and her eyes behind her streaming veil went wide. She had never gone this fast before in her life. It was exhilarating and frightening beyond anything she'd ever known.

Now they were slowly starting to gain on the racers. Don't burst your heart, she wanted to shout to Ryelleth, but caught herself. Ryelleth would understand her limits better than Fia ever could. So she just hung on.

"Get 'em, my good girl," she cried to Ryelleth on the freezing wind that buffeted her and smacked her veil against her cheeks and neck. Fia pressed herself against the dragon's back to lower her wind resistance, tightened her legs against Ry's sides, and watched in amazement as they slowly started to gain on the racers, thrilling at how swift they were flying. She'd never known Ry could travel like this. The jeweled tone of the dragon's scales brightened and glowed from her internal fires, and sparks went eddying and flying past from her hot breath.

One of the riders threw a glance over his shoulder at her, then shouted something at his partner. Her father, lying face down across the back of the right-hand racer, kicked and squirmed. The rider shouted something and brought down a leather crop across her father's back.