SkyFall (Taken on the Wing Book 2) (54 page)

A female
’
s pained scream filters through the smoke
and Soar
’
s stomach drops in reaction to
his female
’
s agony. It comes from Aledaar
’
s chamber and Tundra and Shatter have
disappeared to the dungeon, leaving Soar alone to get through Fury and to
Tempest.

“
Tempest,
”
Soar calls but his voice cuts out as the
big gold tosses him aside. He rolls but it isn
’
t enough to stop the hard expulsion of
air when he hits the stone floor. At the same time a pair of dragons tumble
past, a mix of green and gold that lands on Soar
’
s wing and pins him down long enough for
Fury to catch up. For a moment the rich musk of dragonkin blood overpowers the
smoke.

“
Master Soar,
”
Fury breathes as he
lands on Soar, straddling his hips, and grasps his throat with his massive,
serrated talons. Spots grow over Soar
’
s
eyes as Fury begins to choke him out. Fury
’
s thighs are in the way and he can
’
t reach his daggers so he digs his
weakening fingers in to Fury
’
s hand to relieve the
pressure. The sharp cries and clashes of metal that fill the chamber ease to a
rushing blur as even the most brilliant fire fades to a dull grey. 

“
You disrespect me, my daughter, and my
kin, gryphon,
”
he hisses.
“
So easy to bring down.
”

At the moment Soar can
’
t agree more in spite of the fact he isn
’
t built for tolerating such extremes of
heat and smoke while a two hundred and eighty pound dragonkin keeps the air
from getting where he needs it.

“
Aledaar doesn
’
t know Tempest can free us by
killing him. He thinks she
’
s only here to protect her
kin, not to kill him,
”
Fury
’
s voice becomes an intimate whisper as
the pressure on Soar
’
s throat lessens.
“
He
’
s never asked so I
’
ve never had to tell. But I know and I
can
’
t fight the order to protect
the old bastard with my life.

“
All you have to do is stop me from
killing my daughter,
”
Fury finishes as his
hand withdraws.
“
And I might find some respect
for you.
”

Soar tries to offer a solid
fuck you
but his first gasp of air is accompanied
by grit, smoke and an unforgiving burn. Then he
’
s on his feet, cursing, and stumbles
backward toward the stairs and Tempest.

“
You got it,
”
Soar
spits. His numb hands find his daggers but he doesn
’
t trust himself to not drop the blades to
the floor so he doesn
’
t draw them, not yet. The
battle at the main tunnel has spread, gryphons matched with gryphons and
dragonkin fight each other. Several charred and bloody bodies litter the floor,
as still in death as the fighting around them gives a bold demonstration of
movement and life.

Until Soar recovers enough to fight, he
has no choice but to keep his distance from Fury.

“
I
’
d like to see how a
competent
dragonkin lord fights,
”
Soar goads as he steps aside. The remark
retaliation for Fury
’
s insinuation back in Skyfall
that Soar is nothing more than a competent ranger.

Fury growls, releasing smoke between his
teeth and shifts his weight to hide his agitation.

Each passing second sharpens Soar
’
s vision. Several agonizing cramps tear
through his large muscles as they embrace the smoke tainted oxygen that fills
his lungs but they pass quickly, each weaker than the last, until he feels
about as good as he
’
s going to get.

Fury removes the axe from his belt and
swings it, rotating his wrist. The impossibly heavy head circles at the gold
’
s side. It weighs so much that Fury has
to compensate by widening his stride.

Even with Fury so close, Soar
’
s task is to protect Tempest and not only
from her sire but from all the Will. He backs away, feeling the steps one at a
time as the dragonkin lord closes in.

The white wall behind Tempest scorches
from the portals
’
discharge
since the dragonkin side of the room takes most of the damage. Their physiology
keeps them conscious and though the ache in Tempest
’
s portalling muscles is far from
pleasant, it restores a small measure of her energy. Lawrence breathes though
his unfocused, half-open eyes suggest he
’
s
out cold. The rock diffused much of the electricity then the rest chose the
easy path through her and spared Lawrence.

“
Chain her in the dungeon,
”
Aledaar growls to the two gryphons still
standing then turns to Con.
“
With me.
”

Aledaar kicks at the empty wooden box,
flaring his dirty, white robes. The next swing of his foot connects and sends
it flying into the curtains behind his chair.

“
No,
”
Tempest growls. If Con portals Aledaar
away from Bolshevik she might never find him. She can
’
t blame Con. He has no choice but to be
her enemy. She can
’
t get past three gryphons and
a dragonkin or count on a miracle from Soar and Lev. Only Aledaar
’
s death will stop Fury from going after
Shadow.

Tempest pushes back the powerful flush of
nausea. Right now it
’
s her and it just has to be
done. Years of Soar
’
s words in the training
chamber, so much like Sky
’
s, force Tempest into a state
of calm.

Without taking her eyes from the two big
gryphons, she feels for Torch
’
s thigh and releases the young
gold
’
s dagger. The blade seems
solid enough but the weight and small handle makes it feel useless. Again,
Tempest
’
s stomach lurches with disgust
at Aledaar. Even if Torch had an idea what to do with it, she wouldn
’
t stand a chance with the weapon. For
Tempest, it
’
s better than her bare hands.

Tempest dodges their lunge. Her smaller
female frame and thinner wings give her a defensive advantage. Not much, but it
helps. If all she had to do was fight, she could let her dragon free but her
task requires focus and control. Beneath the surface, her agitated dragon isn
’
t likely to allow her either.

“
Torch,
”
Aledaar barks.
“
Portal Torrent.
”

The young female draws a single, tight
breath of obedience before the pieces of chain steal her awareness.

“
Never mind,
”
Torrent barks as he
moves to follow Aledaar and Con.
“
There will be another gold.
”

Darn, Aledaar can
’
t leave. Everything depends on the
opportunity these minutes grant Tempest. She assesses her chance of succeeding
with an armed rush but with Con and the three gryphons in the way there is no
hope. Not yet.

“
Don
’
t move,
”
Tempest
wills the nearest gryphon. As long as she keeps one of them between herself and
the other she
’
ll only have a single
adversary with which to concern herself. If she gets between them then she
’
s in trouble.

He stops, allowing her to step around his
still body and use him as a shield against the other then Torrent moves in her
direction blocking her path to Aledaar.

“
Stop,
”
she pushes her will at Torrent, more in
reaction to his menacing approach than as a result of a logical strategy. The
moment she does, she frees the first gryphon from her will. If she had time,
she could force a lasting thrall on him as was done to Lawrence but with only a
moment to prepare he slips from her control. He seizes her wrist in his gloved
hand and forces it up toward her raised wing. She has no choice but to center
her focus back on him if she wants to keep hold of the knife.

“
Torrent,
”
Aledaar
doesn
’
t look back as he dives
beneath the curtain with Con close behind.

The first real pain of battle appears in
Tempest
’
s wrist as the gryphon twists
it then spins her, overextending her shoulder back over her gold, leather wing.
As she opens her mouth to speak, he takes hold of her jaw and clamps it closed
by digging his long fingers into her cheeks. The dust stirred up by their wings
burns inside Tempest
’
s nostrils as they flare to
allow precious air. Then a second breath welcomes the scents of dragonkin pitch
and fire.

They
’
re inside!

Tempest shakes her head free and cries
out, both to alert whomever has fought their way into the Council
’
s main chamber and in pain as the gryphon
’
s fingers score bruising welts in her
skin.

“
Tempest,
”
Soar
’
s voice passes through the growing smoke.
Beneath the rough throaty growl, the single word is rich in strength and sheer
protectiveness.

Before she can reply, a small, painful
explosion lights up beneath her collarbone. Torrent
’
s laugh draws her attention. The scarred
monster pulls something that looks like one of  Lev
’
s cigarillos from his lips. The short,
brown stick points at her, revealing it to be a hollow tube. Then his tongue
plays at the tear in his top lip.

“
The dart will keep you quiet, my pet,
”
he leers then he
’
s gone behind the curtain.
“
The next time we meet you will feel real
pain.
”

No,
Tempest screams. Her mouth opens but no
sound passes her lips. Deep in her chest, the burn grows as the two gryphons
drive her toward the corner between Lawrence and the stairs.

Outside, in the main chamber, the noise
builds as the two gryphons charged with taking Tempest to the dungeon draw
closer. Their heavy breathing fades under the clash of weapons and the thuds of
heavy bodies. Even the hiss of fire from dragon throats makes it into Aledaar
’
s chamber along with the accompanying
thick smoke. Dragonkin flame doesn
’
t bother Tempest but the smoke
carries the sharp stink of burning fabric and leather and the sweetness of
flesh.

Tempest
’
s eyes dart back and forth between the
two in an effort to appear overwhelmed. She is but she wants to be sure they
know it. The closest gryphon bares his teeth. He draws a silver chain with one
hand as the other strokes along the length.