Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [55]
As a result, Caelan found a sapling stout enough to shinny up. At its top, it swayed alarmingly beneath his weight, but he kicked out and managed to get his elbow hooked over the top of the wall. Grunting, he hung there a moment, then swung his legs up. From the sky, he was an obvious target. He knew he had only seconds to move before he was seen by one of the raiders circling overhead.
As though from nowhere, a dragon came hurtling over him, wings tucked, talons raking. It bellowed, giving Caelan a split-second of warning. He dived headlong, flinging himself onto the low roof of the larder, and vicious claws clutched only air where he’d been crouching just seconds before.
Roaring in fury, the dragon could not shift the angle of its descent in time. It passed over, and Caelan scrambled back, yanking his dagger from his belt as he did so.
Another dragon arched its neck and blasted fire from its nostrils, raking the thatched roof of the stables, which were already on fire. The door to the stables stood open, and smoke boiled from inside. Several ponies were rushing about the courtyard in raw panic, an obvious danger to the people trying to dodge them as well as the attackers. Caelan could hear other ponies still trapped inside the burning building, their screams horrible.
More fire raked down from the sky, crossing the roof of the infirmary. It was made of slate, however, and the fire did no damage beyond scoring twin black marks across the surface.
The house also had a slate roof, but the kitchen at the back was thatched. It was also in flames. The stench of smoke and the dragons filled the air.
People burst from the buildings, running, shouting. Caelan saw Anya trying to help old Surva, who could barely hobble.
“No!” he shouted at them, waving his arms. “Stay inside!”
But they could not hear him in the general melee. Beva came running through the smoke, easy to see in his white robes. He was gesturing at the women, shouting something they did not heed.
A dragon passed over Caelan, not attacking him, intent instead on other prey.
It was close enough for him to see the sun glint off the scaly hide, close enough for him to see old battle scars, to see a sparse hank of hair hanging from its lower jaw like a beard. The man astride the dragon was swarthy and small, hardly bigger than Lea. At first Caelan thought he might be a boy, but the rider turned his head to reveal a gray-streaked beard. His teeth flashed at Caelan in laughter. He lifted his jagged spear in mock salute.
Infuriated, Caelan dragged in a breath and went skidding off the roof of the larder. Landing on the ground and staggering at the jolt to his ankles, Caelan looked around swiftly and plucked down the first warding key he came to.
It glowed in his hand, growing hot the moment his flesh touched it. Caelan focused on it in an effort to reach its full power. He’d been able to utilize the mysterious force within the metal once before in driving off the wind spirits. Perhaps it would strengthen him now.
Gritting his teeth, he tried even harder until sweat ran down his face and his hand was afire with pain.
He felt something within him leap, as though he drew in a lungful of fire. Suddenly he was connected with the metal, which became a living, fluid thing in his hand. The power stirred, flowing into him until he was filled with it. His fear dropped away, and he knew only the hum of the Choven force that twisted and stirred within him. Across the courtyard, he saw a flash from the warding key hanging on the side door of the house. Another flash came from the gates, then another and another as all the keys came alive, glowing brightly enough to be seen