On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [145]
She heard the cries of the armies as they met in battle, heard the clash of steel on steel, but suddenly her attention was directed to a handful of men. Some of them clustered around the enormous bow and were pointing up at the dragon. Straining, they tilted the weapon skyward and fitted an arrow. One of them leaned forward, using his weight to pull back the string and—
Numbed with horror, it seemed forever until Kevla regained the use of her tongue.
“Dragon, watch—”
She felt the impact of the enormous arrow as it plunged into the Dragon’s body. He let out a dreadful cry and bucked. Kevla clung to his neck, and looking down she could see the awful thing impaled in his left side, between his mighty forepaw and his wing. It had gone deep, and for a long, terrible moment, the Dragon’s wings stopped beating.
He bellowed in pain and began to stroke the air once again, desperately trying to keep them both aloft and alive, turning away from the dreadful bow.
Fear for her friend erased everything else. She hugged him, leaning on his neck to cry to him, “Get down, get down! You’re hurt!”
Kevla heard a stinging sound and felt a hard blow to her back that almost knocked her off the Dragon. Searing pain ripped through her and she couldn’t breathe. Something wet was tricking down her right breast. She looked down and for a moment didn’t see the blood, the same color as her flame-created clothing. There was a lump where there shouldn’t be and—
A wave of dizziness and white-hot agony swept over her as she reached with her left hand and her questing fingers found the sharp metal tip of an arrow protruding through her shoulder.
“Kevla!” roared the Dragon. “Fight it, Kevla….”
But she couldn’t. The world began to turn gray. Kevla swayed forward and tumbled from the Dragon’s back.
Chapter Thirty
Tahmu had watched in awe along with everyone else as Kevla turned the army’s own fire against them and caused Mount Bari to erupt.
The sight had rejuvenated the forces he commanded. They now shrieked their battle cries and fell upon their foes with fresh passion. The Emperor’s men, by contrast, seemed stunned by the unexpected and shocking turn of events. Some dropped their weapons. Others surrendered eagerly, and Tahmu realized that several of the men they were fighting were actually Arukani.
One boy fell to his feet in front of Tahmu and begged, “Please, lord, they forced us to fight, spare me, spare me!”
“Get up!” cried Tahmu. “Drop your weapons. Keep your hands in front of you so no one will think you armed and head for the tents!”
Others, overhearing, imitated the boy, dropping their weapons and rushing gratefully to safety. Tahmu wondered if this was a battle or a rescue mission.
There came a brief lull in the battle and as Tahmu wiped sweat and blood from his face, his gaze traveled skyward. He saw the Dragon wheeling, saw Kevla as a tiny shape atop it.
Tahmu frowned. Something was wrong.
The Dragon was flying erratically, and as Tahmu watched in horror, a small shape toppled forward from the safety of the Dragon’s broad back.
“Kevla!” he cried in impotent horror as his daughter hurtled toward the earth. There was nothing he could do for her, nothing to stop her downward plummet.
The Dragon dove, extending his enormous forepaws and catching the falling woman just in time. Relief washed over Tahmu.
She was safe. His daughter was safe.
“My lord!” The voice was Dumah’s. Recovering himself, Tahmu whirled just in time to parry a stroke and begin a counterattack.
Kevla awoke from dreams of pain to the reality of agony. She was lying on her side, and as she tried to draw breath the pain increased a thousandfold.
“Gently,” came a familiar voice. “Don’t move. Asha is working on your injury now.”
Kevla blinked, trying to keep still. “My lord?”
Tahmu was there, kneeling in front of her, tenderly holding one of her hands in his. “Don’t speak, Kevla.”
But she had to. “The Dragon…he’s hurt, too….”
“Do not fear for me, I am all right.” Despite the reassuring words,