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A moment later, the caustic cloud drew back as the dragon strafed over the top of the sanctuary. The stone ceiling boomed with a huge impact. Stones split, and the archway came to pieces. Another boom sounded farther down the corridor, and this time, the dragon’s tail broke straight through. Blocks of stone plunged from the ceiling and bashed down columns and shattered the floor. The dragon’s tail ripped on toward the crystal dome.

Just as Eir had planned.

Kralkatorrik struck the dome, and it shattered, hurling shards of glass outward.

And out of that shattered dome, Glint vaulted into battle.

For thousands upon thousands of years, Glint had waited for this moment. She spread her wings, grabbed the air, and rose above Kralkatorrik.

The Elder Dragon was gigantic, twenty times her size, but more sorcery than sinew.

How do you fight a hurricane?

The answer hung in her fangs—the dragon-blood yoke. It had to fit down tightly behind the horns of the giant beast, pressed against its stony skull.

But where was that skull in this tumbling sandstorm?

Glint knew her master—rapacious and ruthless. Its gold-beaming eyes would even now be raking the ground for her. The best way to bring its head around toward her was to draw its attention.

Glint soared down through the pelting crystals of the storm until she could see the beast’s broad back. A blow between the wings would bring that massive head around.

Shrieking, Glint dived onto that back and smashed into Kralkatorrik. Talons tore off scales, and fangs ripped through muscle. Green blood sprayed from it, emerald droplets plunging through the air. Glint vaulted off its back, rose up, and dived again.

This time, though, there was nothing to strike. The Elder Dragon’s flesh had melted into a sandstorm. She tore at it with claws and fangs, but Kralkatorrik was as insubstantial as a dream.

The dream turned on her. In midair, the Elder Dragon rolled to its back, talons reaching up. Glint tried to loft away, but those claws solidified and grasped her. They pierced her leg and flank and held on crushingly as Kralkatorrik rolled again.

She flailed but could not escape. She could little breathe. Her lung was punctured and bubbling.

Kralkatorrik climbed into the sky, hauling Glint away from her lair. Its hissing bulk merged with the storm.

Eir ran back to her post at the shattered northern archway and loosed three more shafts. They rose past the gutted sanctuary and buried themselves in the storm. Three more flashes bloomed from the cloud.

A skittering sound came behind Eir, and she turned to see Garm rush up beside her. He halted and stared up at the boiling cloud.

Within it, flashes of light illumined two draconic figures locked in a death match.

“She’s overmatched,” Eir said breathlessly, nocking and releasing three more shafts. “She’s a wren, and it’s a hawk.”

The three charges blew within the cloud, illuminating the hackled back of the dragon.

“I only hope she can place the yoke.”

Garm nudged Eir’s leg. She glanced at him, but he was watching the horizon.

There, on the plains of the Crystal Desert, marched new figures—giant Gila monsters and tarantulas, gargantuan lizards and snakes and coyotes. All had been turned to living stone by the breath of Kralkatorrik.

Eir stepped back and cupped a hand to her mouth and shouted through the archway. “Man your posts! The minions approach! Let none of them through!”

The monsters came on rapidly. They bounded over the desert—stone jackals and hackled lions and hulking hyenas. All moved with the hunger of the dragon itself.

Eir nocked three more arrows and pointed them at the flood of beasts that approached. She didn’t want to waste arrows meant for the dragon on his minions, but they came so quickly. Eir stepped back, and Garm with her.

A stone-skinned lion and a gibbering hyena arrived first, leaping over the trench works. Their claws were spread before them, their fangs gaping in mad grins—

But stones shot from the trench into their bellies.

The