Rescued
Ever was the one who noticed Pyrros flying low over the field toward them, and he had drawn his bow, an arrow pointed at him before Moira even had time to react.
“No!” Moira exclaimed and pushed the bow away.
He stared at her, something wild in his eyes.
Within that second, Pyrros grabbed Moira and Ever, one in each claw, and they were airborne, Pyrros flapping his wings with furious force. They left the ground behind, and although Moira was used to flying, the sudden ascent stole her breath away. Pyrros used all his muscles and his enormous wings to take them higher up.
Screams echoed below, and arrows whizzed past them.
Ever was not the only superb archer, and when Moira looked back—as best she could while hanging in Pyrros’ claw—she saw the guards in the towers shooting at them. Fires lit up on both sides of the gate, probably a signal, because along the wall, fire after fire ignited. She cringed. She did not want to be hit by an arrow—or anything worse. What was that they were dragging forth? She had never seen such a weapon—and she hoped that they would soon be out of reach, so none would be injured.
What was Pyrros thinking? Why had he come flying out of the forest? What about their meeting place?
She had planned on taking Ever to the meeting place in the forest and waiting there until Pyrros appeared. Granted, she had not yet figured out how she would explain it to Ever, but she would have made it work, just as she had convinced him to come along to Ea. Then she would have calmly introduced them to each other, and no one would have shot or bitten or ripped anyone to pieces…
Something large whizzed past her left side, interrupting her thoughts as Pyrros twisted in the air. Moira saw a large boulder-like thing covered in nasty spikes start its descent, and a wave of nausea washed over her as she imagined the spikes striking them.
Every breath Pyrros took was labored, but he kept taking them higher until the clouds embraced them and he flattened out—but he did not slow. Moira shouted at him, tried to get him to land somewhere, but the wind whistled in their ears, and either he did not hear, or he ignored her.
Was Nerida with him? Was she sitting up there on his back? Or was she still in the lake? Moira could not see Pyrros’ back from her place in his claw.
When she glanced over at Ever, he was trying to access the knives in his belt, but Pyrros held him in an iron grip, and he failed. What if he harmed Pyrros? What if Pyrros dropped Ever? Moira closed her eyes, attempting to control her breathing.
“He’s not dangerous,” Moira shouted at Ever.
Ever stared at her. “It’s a dragon, Moira!”
“Yes, but he doesn’t eat living things. He’s kind.” She knew how stupid it sounded, how unlikely, but if she could get Nerida on board, she could convince Ever too.
“Don’t hurt him. Please.” She paused, searching for something to say. “If you put a knife in him right now, he might drop you, and how’s that better?”
“Moira, let me take care of this.”
She sighed. Why would he not just listen to her?
But then, he was only doing what a normal person in his position would do. Moira felt helpless.
They flew, seconds stretching into minutes and minutes merging to an hour. The sunrise colored the sky in warm oranges and yellows, but the air got cold and crispy as they rose higher. She was far too underdressed for the temperature.
Pyrros descended onto a desolate, craggy ledge high in the mountains. The rugged terrain offered little more than jagged rocks and sparse vegetation, and the thin, crisp air carried a biting chill that seeped through her clothing. Mournful howls of the wind passed between them. Though she could not see or hear a living soul around, she knew they could still be there, and her body remained coiled in tension, anticipating danger. Thick clouds shrouded the landscape below, rendering it invisible. She could see no trace of Gereon.
Pyrros smoothly placed Moira on the rocks—then he all but threw Ever across the ledge. Ever did a clumsy somersault before hitting the rock wall, a painful groan escaping him before he slid down to lie motionless on the ground. Moira hurried over to him and sank beside him, touching his face with trembling fingers.
Had Pyrros killed him? So much for him not being dangerous.
“Ever.” His name was soft on her lips. He was breathing, and she could not see any bleeding. “Come on, wake up.” She turned to Pyrros. “What did you do to him?”
Nerida was on his back, pale legs on either side of Pyrros’ back. Blood ran down her upper arm from a cut where an arrow had pierced her. Her face was white as always, and she frowned at Moira’s words.
Moira had expected relief and joy when she saw them, but that was not at all what she felt. Ever lay unconscious, and everything was chaos—and it was their fault.
Pyrros cast a confused look at Moira. “We saved you.” He did not sound convinced.
“Saved me?” Moira threw her hands out. “From what?”
Pyrros nodded to the guard. “From him. He had… taken you prisoner?” He ended the sentence as a question rather than a statement. “If we hadn’t picked the two of you up, he would’ve had time to shoot before we got high enough—”
“He hasn’t taken me captive. He’s my—my friend!”
“Your friend?” Pyrros’ eyes were filled with uncertainty, gaze flitting between Moira and Ever.
“Yes, my friend. He helped me in the city. He’s been very sweet, and I was going to take him to meet you, and—”
Nerida interrupted her. “He’s a human.”
“They’re not as awful as you think.” Moira could not hold back her frustration, and the fear that Pyrros had injured Ever made things worse. “If you’d lift your nose out of the water for once, you’d realize that not all other beings are out to kill you.”
“They fired arrows at us.” Nerida seemed surprisingly unaffected by Moira’s ire.
“Because you kidnapped one of their citizens. Don’t you get it? For all they know, it was a dragon that attacked and took two people to eat for dinner.” She was about to add, ‘Like real dragons do,’ but the sound of her name from Ever’s lips made her stop.
“Moira.”
She was back by his side again. “I’m here. Everything’s okay.”
“What happened? I thought—I dreamed it was—a dragon!” With well-rehearsed movements, he came to his feet and pulled out a knife from his belt, pointing it at Pyrros.
“Ever, no, don’t,” Moira said, shaking her head.
Pyrros took two steps forward and disarmed Ever effectively by slamming the knife out of his hand with his claw. Ever’s gaze flitted to the weapon on the ground, but he did not reach for it.
“Ever, please calm down,” Moira said. “He’s not dangerous. Pyrros isn’t dangerous.”
“Pyrros? Did you name him?” Ever tore his gaze from Pyrros and stared at Moira.
Nerida stared at him and spat, “You humans aren’t the only ones who name each other.”
Moira grumbled, “Nerida, stop. What’s he done to you?”
“He threatened Pyrros with a knife. Not one minute ago. Did you already forget?” She raised an eyebrow, a challenge in her eyes, as if it explained everything. And Moira had a hard time arguing against her because she realized it appeared terrible from her and Pyrros’ point of view—but Nerida and Pyrros refused to understand Ever’s perspective.
“He has the map to Ea.” Moira crossed her arms over her chest and tried to imitate Nerida’s frosty voice, but she was fairly certain she just sounded whiny. “He’ll help us get there. The text said we have to be four—he’s the fourth.”
Nerida’s face went blank. “He’s coming along. To Ea.”
The disgust in Nerida’s voice made nausea rise in Moira. Where had the friendly Nerida disappeared, the one who had given her a beautiful grass blanket, so she would not freeze?
“Wait.” Ever looked from Moira to Nerida. “What text? What do you mean, four?”
“Four.” Nerida turned her gaze from Moira to Ever. “We need to be four to get into Ea. What, did you think she brought you along because you’re special?”
Hot, fiery anger spread within Moira. How dare Nerida be so rude to Ever?
“Is that true?” Ever demanded, sounding wounded.
“Yes.” Moira shrugged. “I’m sorry, but—you are special, it’s not just because we need to be four—I was going to tell you as soon as we’d left Gereon behind, but I couldn’t tell you while we were there. I was worried that if someone overheard that I’m friends with a dragon, Pyrros would be in danger.”
Ever glanced at Pyrros, and for a second, Moira wondered if Pyrros was in danger now. Or was it Ever who was in danger? Would they be able to sleep near one another? Would Ever trust that this dragon was different? Or would he hurt Pyrros when he turned his back? Moira did not want to believe it, but Ever had killed dragons before—and he had only known Moira for three days, so why should they trust one another?
“You should’ve told me.”
“I know. I wanted to be alone with you in a place where no one could overhear. But nothing turned out as I’d planned. I don’t know why they came to the field, we had a meeting place arranged, and I planned on taking you there, but—”
Ever gestured towards Pyrros. “It’s a dragon, Moira. A dragon.”
“He’s kind.” Moira closed her eyes for a second. “He saved my life. Had he intended to eat me, he could’ve done it the first time we met—or any time after that. Instead, he’s protected me.” She left the mountain witch out of the conversation and told herself it was an omission, not a lie. “Ever, trust me.”
“Everything about you is a lie.”
It stung, a little too close to home for comfort. Still, Nerida’s words were worse. Ever sighed and rubbed his neck. “But I get it. I understand why you did what you did.”
She swallowed. “Does that mean you’ll come with us?”
Ever nodded.
Not giving him time to change his mind, Moira stood up and turned to Pyrros and Nerida. “He’s coming along. He has the map, and the book says we need to be four.”
She wished she could return to a time when she had the final vote in such decisions. But her past misjudgments had deprived her of that authority. When Pyrros turned his head questioningly at Nerida, it was clear that power no longer lay with her.
“I’m afraid we can’t just decide that the four of us are going to Ea,” Ever said. “It’s not that simple.”
Moira got up and looked at him with her head cocked to the side. “What do you mean?”
“Ea is a protected place. It won’t appear on the map until we’ve said the spell.” He removed the little bag he wore beneath his shirt and pulled out the map, holding it up. “There’s no Ea. Not yet.”
“But how do you know that’s the map?” Anxiety sped up Moira’s heart because what if they had left Gereon without the correct map?
“The spell.” Ever turned the paper over, and there was a text, eight lines long. “If we say the words, Ea will appear on the map.”
Moira held out her hands. “So let’s—”
“If we utter the spell, we accept the mission of going to Ea. Ea’s inherent magic will push us onward. If we don’t get there, the magic will kill us.”
The words hung in the air, heavy enough for Moira to feel a tremendous weight on her body.
“So you see, it’s more than just saying the incantation.” Ever looked between the three of them. “It’s binding. All four must say it—and no one can back out once we do.”
Moira swallowed. It was one thing for her to desire Ea, owing to her wings—but it was different for Nerida, Pyrros, and Ever.
And Nerida was furious with Moira—it was only right to give her, to give them all, a way out. Maybe she could find someone else to accompany her. Perhaps she could find another way to get her wings back, even if it would not be in time for the official day.
Before she or anyone could say anything, Pyrros said, “We should think about this.”
The words sucked the oxygen out of the air around Moira. She did not blame him, not in any way, but the energy, the determined effort and an intense burning to have her wings back, all that which had fueled her journey, dissolved into nothing.
Going to Ea was dangerous. Even making it show up on a map was accompanied by the threat of death.
She looked at Nerida and saw the hard, thin line of her mouth. She had said nothing, but she would—and Moira was not sure she could bear hearing it. Why would they go with her?
Pyrros broke the silence again. “But we can think and discuss it somewhere other than up here in the mountains. Gather your stuff, and we’ll fly.”
Moira waited while Ever picked up his things, the arrows and the bow and the bag with the map, and the big backpack where he kept all the provisions and other stuff. They fastened both their bags to Pyrros’ back.
Ever got up—and paled.
“Dragon.”
He stared beyond Moira.
She gave him a confused look. “Yes, didn’t we already—”
“No—dragon!” he shouted and hurriedly pointed beyond Pyrros.
And there amidst the clouds, the dragon Ever spotted had just caught sight of them. Its jaw opened wide, displaying sharp, gleaming teeth, and it let loose a deafening roar before hurtling straight at them, claws out.