“Can you do anything to help?”

Shavala stared out at the mass of bushes blocking not just the road but either side of it, having grown over the remains of a long-abandoned village. The plants—three feet tall with sprawling branches—were a form of buckbrush, she thought, though there were so many varieties it was hard to say for sure. She’d never seen it before, and all she had to go on was her memory of the descriptions passed down by other druids. The men assigned to the road crew had to kneel down and saw the plants off at the base, then drag them out of the way. At the pace they were going, it would take hours.

“I don’t think so,” she told Corec. “I could ask them to grow in a different direction, but they’re not vines—they won’t respond as quickly. And even if they were growing completely on their sides, they’d still be too tall for the carts to get past.”

Corec nodded. “Then we’ll need to send someone to scout out a way around. This is taking too long.”

“Corec!” someone shouted. Leena was running their way, followed by Ellerie and Sarette. “The dragon’s five miles out, to the southwest!”

“Five miles?” he asked, glancing at the sky. “Is it coming this way or headed back to the keep?” They’d been within Leena’s Seeking range of the keep for three days, but she hadn’t sensed the dragon since the previous afternoon.

“I don’t know yet. I need more time.”

“We’d better get ready just in case.” Corec turned to the main body of the expedition. “Everyone form up to the southwest!” he yelled. “Dragon’s five miles out! Get into position and load your weapons!”

The armsmen burst into activity, weapon crews leading their mule-drawn carts to their designated positions while the infantry flung the canvas cover off the back of the first freight wagon and started unloading pikes.

Shavala exchanged glances with Sarette. The two of them had made plans for different scenarios. With the sky as clear as it was, if they’d seen the dragon too late, there wouldn’t have been time to summon a storm and they’d have had to work with what they could manage on their own. Thanks to Leena’s warning, though, there would be enough time.

Shavala stretched her mind out as far as she could, heating the moist air nearest the ground and summoning a heavy wind to push it to the southwest. Leaves and dust blew into the air, and anyone facing the wrong direction had to shelter their eyes.

Farther from the expedition—well beyond ballista range—Sarette took over, expanding the warm air in an ever-widening circle and pulling a cold mass from miles away downward to meet it. That pushed the warm air up in a rush, and the first hint of clouds appeared.

Manipulating wind always caused a chain reaction. As air was pushed away from one spot, more air was pulled in behind it to fill the gap. With continuing effort to keep the reaction going, the result was a wind storm that grew far beyond the power of the magic involved. Shavala added to the cycle, pulling moisture from the air and warming it, then using that to strengthen the warm front. Sarette did the same at the far end of the storm.

Shavala was the stronger of the two, at least in the ways druids measured strength, but Sarette could control weather at a much greater range than any druid could. That extra range was necessary now. Shavala’s warm wind to the southwest might help the ballista bolts fly farther and faster than they otherwise could, but if the more chaotic storm winds got too close to the expedition, it would make the ballistae useless against the dragon.

While Shavala concentrated on her task, the staff—which she’d left standing upright on its own nearby—realized her intention. No, it sent, along with a jolt of pain. Life.

I don’t have time for this, she told it, grabbing it from where it stood. She couldn’t spare enough attention from her spell right now to deal with it.

“Nedley!” she called out. He was standing ready with his small squad of armsmen. “Take this and run it a hundred yards that way.” She pointed northeast, opposite the direction from which the dragon was coming. “Then throw it as far as you can.” That would get it beyond the range from which it could communicate with her—and hopefully far enough away that it wouldn’t be stepped on if there was a battle.

“Shavala,” Corec warned.

“I have to get it away from me,” she said. “Remember Tir Yadar?”

He frowned. “Do it, but hurry back,” he told Nedley.

The young man took the staff and jogged as fast as his armor would allow.

“It is coming this way!” Leena said. “It’s closer than it was, still southwest. A straight line toward us.”

“Go!” Corec told Sarette. “You’ll have to make the call.”

The stormborn woman nodded, then sprinted past Nedley’s squad and Ballista One, which had been expanded to full size by its crew. The storm clouds were far away, but as soon as Sarette was beyond the weapon crew, she summoned a lightning bolt out of the clear sky. It hit her staff-spear as she launched herself into the air.

“You should get going too,” Corec told Leena.

The Sanvari woman shot a worried glance at Ellerie. “I will, but I’ll stay nearby, in case …” She trailed off.

“Not too close,” Corec said. “If something happens to us, help the survivors make their way back to Four Roads. If there aren’t any …” He stared out at the frantic preparations and sighed. “Katrin’s got the men’s bonuses and a list of all their families and next of kin. She knows what to do.”

Leena nodded and disappeared.

The staff stopped intruding into Shavala’s mind, and she resumed feeding power into the storm.

#

Sarette darted through the darkening clouds, searching for any sign of the dragon. With the storm blocking everyone else’s view, it would be up to her to decide whether to start the attack. If the creature was just passing by, she would let it go in the hopes of ambushing it later at its lair. If it had decided they were a threat, though, she had to strike before it reached her companions.

Gathering her strength, she launched herself upward, into the more peaceful air above the storm clouds. The wind was still heavy, but with the chaos of the storm below her, she could see farther.

The dragon was there in the distance, far ahead but getting easier to see as it approached.

It didn’t react to her presence. Perhaps dragons weren’t accustomed to facing threats in the air, and from this distance, she would appear tiny in its eyes. It probably thought she was a bird.

That wouldn’t last long with it headed her way, though, and it was harder for Sarette to fly here, above the storm, where there was less charge in the air. She dropped back down into the clouds and hovered in place. Once the dragon had passed by, she rose again, above and behind it. Up close, the creature was massive—fifty feet long, plus another twenty feet for the tail.

How could they hope to kill something so large?

The dragon had maintained its course toward the expedition, and now it dipped lower in the sky, angling downward. Once it dropped below the cloud cover, it would see Sarette’s companions … if it didn’t already know they were there. It had passed by the expedition at least twice—that they knew of—without attacking, but this time, its actions seemed deliberate. If Sarette delayed any longer, she was putting the entire party at risk.

It was time.

One of the tasks she’d practiced for was to slow the dragon down, giving the weapon crews time to prepare. With Leena’s timely warning, that wasn’t necessary, which meant Sarette could focus on her second task—finding some way to knock the creature out of the sky.

She waited, tense, as the dragon dropped down close to the upper reaches of the storm.

Would the creature realize who was attacking it? Corec had told Sarette to only take action if she could keep herself safe while doing so, but now that she was up here all alone with the giant beast, it was hard to imagine what safe meant—and if Sarette didn’t do her part, it would put her friends in danger.

The dragon descended into the clouds.

The storm had been building and building, the rapid change in weather increasing the conflict between the opposed charges in the air. Sarette had forced it to remain stable, but now, as she followed the dragon down, she launched her attack, unleashing the full strength of the storm.

Lightning suddenly flickered all around, dancing between clouds. The roar of thunder was overwhelming, seeming to come from all sides at once.

The dragon swayed back and forth, adjusting its course through the storm in an awkward, unnatural fashion, and somehow avoiding getting hit. It wasn’t possible to dodge lightning—it moved faster than thought—but Sarette had speculated the creature used elder magic to fly and breathe fire. Could it sense the charge building in the air the same way she did, and predict where the lightning would strike?

If so, it might only be able to detect a natural build-up. Pulling in as much of the charge around her as she could, Sarette released it all at once, launching a lightning bolt directly from her palm toward the dragon’s left haunch.

The beast dodged again, but this time not quickly enough. The bolt caught its rear leg. It roared—though whether in pain or anger, Sarette couldn’t tell. There was a scorch mark along the side of its leg, but the damage didn’t seem to have penetrated through the scales.

The dragon twisted its body, dipping its left wing down and tilting its right wing almost straight up as it turned in a tight curve. Apparently it understood lightning storms well enough to know that the bolt which had hit it wasn’t natural.

Sarette quickly shot back up into the clear sky above the storm, trying to stay out of sight. Below, the shadow of the dragon circled around twice within the clouds, like a hawk spiraling through warmer air currents, before returning to its original course.

They were near the center of the storm now. The stronger winds were slowing the creature’s flight, but not as much as Sarette had expected. Its ability to fly seemed magically enhanced, much like her own, and wasn’t wholly dependent on its wings.

The dragon continued its descent and dropped below the lowest storm clouds. Sarette followed, but it was harder for her to maintain her flight here. The expedition was visible in the distance, and the dragon stayed on course toward it, not turning away. Sarette needed another option, quickly.

Using up half the charge she still carried, she darted forward through the air, straight toward the creature’s back. Drawing close just as its wings swept up, she slashed at the thin, skin-like membrane of the left wing with the blade of her staff-spear.

The dragon shrieked, the cry audible even above the noise of rolling thunder. The creature rolled in mid-air, its other wing batting Sarette out of the way as it peered behind itself, searching for its attacker.

Sarette fell, her vision graying out.

When she came to, she was tumbling through the air, her staff-spear falling below her. Her mind was foggy, like the time Shavala had rescued her after she’d fallen into the ocean.

Falling from the sky was always the biggest danger a stormrunner faced, and this time, Shavala wasn’t close enough to save her.

Sarette used the last of the charge she carried to speed downward, snagging her spear before it fell to the earth.

Then, feebly, she reached for the storm one more time.

#

Ellerie hurried to the southwest corner of the formation, where Ballista Two’s crew had just finished cranking the weapon to cock it. Sargo, a hunter who made his living selling animal pelts, loaded one of the fortisteel-tipped ballista bolts Ellerie had crafted, while Nale, a farmer’s son, grabbed two wooden stakes and stood in front of the cart.

“Miss Treya!” he shouted, waving both arms to get her attention.

Treya was standing on top of the second freight wagon, near the center of the formation. The ballistae were arranged in a rough circle around her.

“Five more yards!” she told him.

He ran farther out and pounded the stakes into the wet soil. They were painted a bright yellow to stand out against the prairie grasses, and would serve as markers to indicate the range of Treya’s fire protection spell.

Nale returned to the ballista and climbed up onto the cart to join his partner, and the two men tested the mobility of the weapon’s pivot mount.

Ellerie took position near the stakes. Her beam spell had a longer range than the ballistae, so she would likely be making the first direct attack against the dragon, but it all depended on what Sarette was doing.

There was a small chance the lightning storm might knock the creature out of the sky before it even reached the expedition. In that case, either the fighters would charge with pikes—and with Treya’s protection—while the siege weapons fired from a distance, or, if the dragon fell too far away, the crews might have to fetch the mules back and move the carts closer.

None of that was likely, though. The most probable branch of the plan was to down the dragon with ballistae bolts and Ellerie’s magic. Until that happened, Corec intended to keep everyone in the most defensive formation possible. Once the creature realized it was under attack, Ellerie’s spells would pinpoint the expedition’s location, hopefully drawing the dragon within range of the siege weapons.

Ellerie nodded to Sir Willem, the young Ballistae Two commander, who was jogging back from leading their mules out of the way. With the dragon approaching from the southwest, the mule teams nearest that point had to be taken far enough out that they wouldn’t get in the way of a battle.

Willem nodded back but didn’t stop to speak. He joined his crew, then grabbed a spyglass and examined the sky, searching for the dragon.

Ellerie pulled her own spyglass from her coat and peered through it. Lightning still flashed among the clouds. How was Sarette doing out there? Corec looked worried, but not distressed. He’d surely have shown more of a reaction if the stormborn woman had died and her warden bond disappeared—but that didn’t answer the question of what was happening.

And then the dragon dipped below the cloud cover, headed directly toward them. Where was Sarette? Was she safe? Was she near the creature? She’d be too small to see at this distance, and it was difficult to train the spyglass on a moving target. Ellerie slipped the device back into her pocket.

The dragon suddenly twisted and turned. The movement didn’t appear to be natural, but it was still too far away to see clearly. After a moment, it resumed its flight, heading straight toward the expedition.

Ellerie glanced back at Corec, who was stationed near Ballista One. Bobo had joined him there, along with Nedley’s infantry squad. Cenric and his men were stationed near Ballista Three. The two infantry squads wouldn’t form up together until the dragon was down. While it was still in the air, it could move too quickly, leaving the men out of place if it changed targets. For now, they’d keep enough space between them that it couldn’t hit them all at once.

Corec gave Ellerie the signal to attack when ready. Her heart raced. This was it—there was no turning back. She still couldn’t find Sarette, but if the stormborn woman was following the plan, she would stay out of range of Ellerie’s magic.

The dragon approached the farthest distance Ellerie’s beam spell could reach, and she murmured the words.

The bright white light of the beam lanced out but missed, passing by the beast’s right side, and Ellerie forced down a cry of frustration. She cast the spell again, uttering the words as quickly as she could. This time, it struck the creature’s chest. The dragon faltered, its wings flailing for a moment before it righted itself. A roar sounded in the distance.

As Ellerie began casting the spell for a third time, Corec shouted, “All ballistae, release!” He’d waited until the dragon had come within three hundred yards, leaving time only for a single volley, but his order didn’t mean the weapons would loose their bolts immediately—that command would have been now now now. Instead, the weapon commanders would hold until they had a good shot.

“Up five degrees,” Sir Willem said, a tremor in his voice as he eyed the dragon’s approach. “Now!”

He was the first of the knights to loose a bolt. It arced up and out, straight at the creature, but he’d released too soon and the bolt began its descent before reaching the dragon.

The miss seemed to signal the other knights, and the next five bolts launched almost at the same time. Each of them missed, going low or wide except for the glowing bolt loosed from Ballista One, which passed within a foot of the dragon’s head before falling harmlessly to the ground.

Then one last bolt, fired late from the rear ranks, lodged in the dragon’s side near its front left leg. Ellerie finished her spell just then, and the beam hit the same leg. There was another roar of anger from the beast.

The dragon was nearly upon them now. Ellerie was supposed to get out of the way before it attacked, but she hesitated, trying to figure out what the creature was doing. If it flew over them, she could hit it from below, possibly bringing it down before it could make another pass.

The dragon wavered in the air, its wings faltering, and too late, Ellerie realized what was happening. It wasn’t flying over them, and it wasn’t landing to attack. It was going to crash directly into Ballista Two.

“Run!” Ellerie shouted to the weapon crew.

Sargo fell backward off the cart, then scrambled to his feet before falling again as he tried to get away. Nale had frozen, staring wide-eyed at the beast.

Willem, standing near the cart, trembled as he drew his sword. He seemed to have forgotten about the pike he’d left propped nearby.

“Run!” Ellerie shouted again. The young knight wouldn’t do any good where he was at. Other people were yelling, but there was too much noise and commotion to understand any of it.

Ellerie raced for the cart. She had to get the others moving—anyone remaining near the ballista was in danger.

She reached Willem first and tugged at his shield arm. “Go! We have to go!” she said. She wasn’t strong enough to pull him along with her.

The knight never took his attention away from the dragon. He shrugged Ellerie off and she stumbled, tripping over a grass-covered hillock and landing hard. By the time she pushed herself to her knees and looked up, the dragon was close enough that she could see its eyes. It was too late to run. She was wearing her spellmail, but it wouldn’t do much good with the beast landing on her. Images flashed through her mind. Her mother, her sister, Terevas—and she suddenly missed the place for the first time. Boktar. Leena.

And then Leena was there, from out of nowhere.

“No!” Ellerie shouted in horror. Her lover was supposed to stay safe, out of range of any danger. Leena grabbed her by the shoulders, and a shadow blotted out the sun. Ellerie closed her eyes and braced for the collision.

It never came. Instead, the shouts of fear and the roar of the dragon were replaced by the warmth of the sun and the cries of playing children. Ellerie opened her eyes. She was in the center of a camp full of Sanvari people—Zidari, judging by the long sleeves—going about their day.

It took her a moment to realize that what she was seeing was real, and in that time, Leena slumped forward into her arms.

“What did you do?” Ellerie asked, struggling to hold the other woman upright.

“Had to … get you … away.” Leena’s gaze wasn’t focusing on anything.

“Help!” Ellerie called out in trade tongue, hoping someone would understand. Then she saw a familiar face. “Rohav!”

He rushed forward and checked Leena’s eyes. “Drain shock,” he said to Ellerie with a scowl. “What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t … she saved my life! There was a dragon! I didn’t even know she could …”

He looked down at his niece with concern. “We know what to do,” he said. Scanning the gathering crowd, he rattled off a stream of Zidari that Ellerie couldn’t follow—except for the word Aruna, which was Leena’s grandmother’s name.

Two young men came to his call and took Leena from Ellerie, draping the dazed woman’s arms over their shoulders. Leena smiled at one of them. “Kartik!” she drawled, patting his cheek. “Ellerie, this is my cousin. Kartik, this is … this …” Her eyes closed.

Ellerie stood. “I need to go back,” she told Rohav, as the two men half-carried Leena to one of the tents. “Can you take me?”

“You know we can’t help you again,” he said.

“Please! My friends are still fighting the dragon. I have to go to them!”

Rohav’s expression softened. “Where were you?”

“The free lands.”

“Do you have a map of the area?”

“I … no, not with me. We were about twenty miles north of Matagor’s old trade keep, south of Four Roads.”

“I’m not familiar with the area,” Rohav said. “I can’t transport you, but Pavan’s in Sanvara City this week. I can ask him to come here to speak with you. He should be able to get you to Matagor.”

Ellerie shook her head. “The keep’s in the free lands. It’s hundreds of miles from the Matagor border.”

“Four Roads, then, if it’s closer. Assuming Pavan knows how to get there.”

Four Roads was still over two hundred miles from where Ellerie needed to be.

“Isn’t there any way to get back to where I was?” she asked. Time was slipping away. Was the fight already over? The warden bond reassured her that Corec, at least, was still alive, but what about everyone else?

“If you can find a detailed, accurate map, and can point us to the precise location, Pavan could probably get you there,” Rohav said. “There’s a good collection of maps at the palace. Or we can ask one of the Seeker families. They should be able to find a dragon, but I don’t know if they’ll be willing to help an outsider.”

How long would it take Rohav to find Pavan and bring him back to the camp? How long would it take Ellerie to convince him to help? How long would it take to find a map, or a Seeker that would help?

Ellerie’s legs were suddenly weak, and she collapsed to her knees again.

There was no way she could make it back in time to help her friends.