The Wyvern's Shadow
Thalia pushed through the soldiers who milled about with weapons drawn, and between the collapsed tents she caught sight of several mangled corpses. Her face tightened with fear, yet the thought that Barcas might end up the same way drove her forward. She raced across the chaotic encampment, strewn with debris, desperate to catch up to the man who had already pulled far ahead.
A heavy thud shook the ground. Thalia turned toward the sound and felt the blood drain from her face. Not far away, a wyvern had landed and was swallowing a soldier whole. Each time the creature’s massive jaws worked up and down, fresh blood spilled over its blackened chin.
The sight was so unreal that even terror failed to register. On trembling legs she stumbled backward, only to spot Barcas among the soldiers charging forward with spears. She cried out at the top of her voice.
“Barcas! Barcas!”
She sprinted toward him the way a lost child runs to its parents in a crowded market. Barcas, who had been issuing orders to the knights, turned at the sound. For an instant his eyes widened, then narrowed again. He looked furious that she had ignored his command and come running anyway.
His sharpening gaze sent a chill through her, but Thalia did not stop. All she could think was that she had to reach him and get them both to safety.
Don’t fight. Leave that to your men. You’re supposed to stay by my side.
The frantic words tumbled out between ragged breaths. Even though the noise of battle should have drowned them, Barcas seemed to understand. He strode toward her. Thalia reached out.
At that moment a thin scream rang out from somewhere behind them.
“Barcas!”
Barcas’s head snapped around. Thalia followed his gaze and saw Aila standing alone in the middle of the chaos. The woman looked frantic, as though she had been separated from her escort. A dark shadow loomed over her. Without hesitation Barcas launched himself forward.
Thalia watched him pull away in an instant and her mouth fell open. A wretched plea tore from her constricted throat.
Don’t go.
Don’t go to her.
A sob like molten lava scorched its way up her throat.
Barcas swept Aila into his arms and rolled aside just in time. The wyvern, cheated of its prey, raked the ground with black talons and let out a furious roar. He drew his sword and pushed Aila behind him, shielding her from the enraged beast. But the creature had no interest in a target it had already missed once. It swung its great head from side to side, nostrils flaring, then suddenly fixed its gaze on Thalia.
She froze, staring into a pair of glowing red eyes. The wyvern’s pupils dilated with excitement at the discovery of new prey. In the next heartbeat its massive body shot toward her like a serpent gliding across water.
The movement was so swift she had no time to scream. Talons like hooks seized her and she was lifted into the air. The ground fell away at dizzying speed; the struggling soldiers below shrank to the size of her palm. Panic seized her and she thrashed wildly, but the grip around her chest only tightened. She felt certain the claws would soon pierce her skin and tear her apart.
Looking up in terror at the monster that held her, she managed a desperate cry.
“H-help…! Someone… please…!”
The words were barely audible even to her own ears. Gasping for breath, she forced her mouth open again.
Then a flash of blue light cut through the darkness, followed by a blast of scorching wind. Thalia screamed as the wyvern let out an agonized shriek and began to thrash violently. The pressure around her waist became unbearable; her vision whitened. Limbs went limp. She felt herself rising, then plummeting.
Several seconds later a crushing impact jolted through her entire body, and everything sank into darkness.
She could not tell whether she was awake or unconscious. Perhaps she was already dead. But a wave of excruciating pain soon proved otherwise. Thalia panted like a beast about to be slaughtered, moaning helplessly. It hurt—so much—yet she could not pinpoint where. Tears spilled as she tried to crawl away from whatever was pinning her down, only to collapse again on the cold earth. The acrid smell of smoke stung her nose. She lifted her head with difficulty.
In the gloom she made out the limp body of the wyvern. Its wings were half-burned and curled, its hind legs scorched and smoldering. The realization that the monster was dead left her blinking in confusion.
She pushed herself up on trembling arms and saw a large rock and pile of dirt crushing one of her legs. She must have rolled down a slope during the fall.
I have to get out…
She twisted desperately, trying to free her lower body, but the pain forced her to go limp again. Her trapped leg throbbed, and her chest, shoulders, and arms ached everywhere. Had every bone in her body broken? It seemed possible. She could not even understand how she was still alive—unless she was dying.
Fearfully she looked around. Thick darkness had settled over the world. It felt as though she were being buried alive. Breathing grew harder with every passing moment. She wanted to lose consciousness, yet her mind only sharpened. The pain intensified until she clawed at the ground with broken nails, tears streaming unchecked.
“It hurts… it hurts so much… Barcas…”
She did not know why his name slipped out. The image of him turning his back on her to run to Aila rose unbidden. She would never be the one he had to protect. For him, only Aila and Gareth mattered, no matter the moment.
Hot tears soaked her cheeks.
“No… still… he’ll come looking for me.”
She tried to convince herself. He was a man of strong duty; even if only to recover the emperor’s daughter’s corpse, he would not simply abandon her. Clinging to that thought, she stared into the deepening dark.
Before long the last embers on the wyvern’s hide died, plunging the world into total blackness. No one came. She squeezed her parched, cracking throat and whispered louder.
“It’s all right. It’s all right. He’ll come soon… soon…”
The words dissolved into sobs. She bit her lip and pressed a shaking hand over her mouth. She did not want to cry. Crying would mean admitting that no one would find her.
She forced the bitter mixture of pain and despair back down into her stomach and repeated the words like a prayer.
Just a little longer and Barcas would surely come. Just as he had once pulled her from the mud, he would help her again.
He would. He had to.