Calen's eyes shot open, burning with a light so bright he could see nothing but a blank canvas of white. Anger. Pure, untamed rage filled him, searing his veins, filling the emptiness that had hollowed out his bones.
He thought he could hear voices calling to him, but they were nothing but a muted buzz at the back of his consciousness, drowned out by the heavy sound of wingbeats thumping in his ears. The wind rippled over his body, tearing past him as he moved. He could feel something again, something that had been taken from him, something he had yearned for. But now, rage filled him, boiling his blood. He would kill those who had taken from him, rip them from the world, shred their souls.
As the white light peeled back, images flashed across Calen's mind. A wide-open canvas of green, white, and black: a forest covered in snow. In the distance, city walls. A blazing inferno that rose as high as the castle beside it. But those images faded to the back of his mind, his eyes focusing on something else. A group huddled together in the snow, and riders heading towards them from the city.
A pressure began to build within him. Those riders would burn. As would all those who had harmed the bond. Harmed his soulkin. They would all burn.
Gathering his thoughts, Tarmon cast his eyes to the sky. A white shape dropped from the blanket of clouds above, ripping through the air at immense speed. The closer it got, the larger it appeared, its wings spreading wide against the dark night.
Its jaws opening, the dragon unleashed a roar so visceral and primal the air itself seemed to shudder. Birds jettisoned from the trees around them, swirling up into the night in plumes of black, and the hair on the back of Tarmon's neck stood on end.
The dragon soared over Tarmon's head, moving straight for the riders that charged towards them. Then, as though a signal fire the size of an inn had been lit, the darkness retreated, cowering from the column of dragonfire that poured forth from Valerys's jaws. The riders at the centre of the group didn't even have time to scream.
Once the light from the dragonfire died out, shadows returned, accompanied by the whimpering of the horses that had been on the edge of the pack and the wailing of their riders, whose bodies were blackened and blistered.
Some of the riders at the very edges of the group had escaped relatively unscathed. No more than five or six, though it was difficult to tell in the darkness renewed. With fear in their bones, their horses galloped even faster, their heads bobbing up and down as they charged feverishly. Then the dragon wheeled back around.
A fine mist of snow sprayed into the air as the dragon swooped down, catching one of the riders in its jaws, tearing him clean in half. Another beat of the dragon's wings and it lifted back into the sky.
Tarmon turned to look back at Calen; the young man was awake, but barely. His eyes still glowed with a pale purple light. Tarmon had no idea whether that was a good or bad thing, but at least Calen was alive.
Another spine-tingling roar echoed through the skies as the dragon dropped back down, crashing to the ground, a swing of its spearhead tail whipping two riders from their horses, killing their mounts instantly. Then, as the last three riders drew closer to Tarmon and the others, they were engulfed by a river of flame; they died howling and screaming in agony.
Moments passed, and the smell of charred flesh and burnt leather tainted the air. Then the crack of wingbeats sounded, and the dragon dropped to the ground right in front of Tarmon and the others, its lips pulled back, rows of alabaster teeth bared, sharp as swords. Valerys's eyes held nothing but wrath as the dragon loomed over the group. In the month they had been imprisoned, the dragon had grown even further. It now stood at least thirty feet from snout to tail, its wings longer still. Its jaw had widened, and its entire body looked fuller, more powerful. As it stood there, the dragon craned its neck forward, reaching its snout in to touch Calen, nudging him in the side, a low rumbling whimper escaping its throat. It was then, as Tarmon looked into the dragon's pale lavender eyes, gleaming with intelligence, that he realised where he had seen the glowing colour of Calen's eyes before.
That moment of relative calm was broken as the horn rang out from the city once more, shouts sounding from the city gates. More men were coming.
"We need to keep moving." Baird's voice trembled as he spoke, his eyes still fixed on the dragon that now stood in front of them.
"I can't outrun them," Tarmon said, his voice flat and plain. "Not while I have to carry Calen. My legs will give way."
Snarling with fury, the dragon swung its head around and let out a vicious roar before turning back towards Tarmon and the others. Reaching one of its front limbs forward, the dragon bowed its head and neck close to the ground, a deep, rumbling growl resonating from its throat.
"What's it doing?" Baird asked, his voice still shuddering.
"Put Calen on Valerys's back." Vaeril jumped to his feet, an urgency permeating his voice.
Erik grimaced as he pulled himself to a standing position. "On his back? But he'll just fall—"
"Erik, we don't have time." Tarmon grunted, forcing his legs to straighten. "We need to do what the elf says, or we'll all die. Alleron, Baird, can you help me lift him?"
The two men nodded, helping Tarmon lift Calen to his feet.
"N'aldryr…" Calen muttered, only half conscious.
"Is he all right?" There was a look of concern on Alleron's face as he pulled Calen's arm around his shoulder.
"No," Tarmon answered, taking Calen's other arm. "But he's alive, and we need to keep him that way."
Every fibre of Tarmon's being groaned in complaint as he, Baird, and Alleron heaved Calen up on the dragon's back, tossing his right leg over the other side and resting his arms against Valerys's scales.
"Our bralgír tell stories of how dragons hold an intrinsic magic, one that is tied to their Draleid," Vaeril said, placing his hand on Valerys's neck. "Once the dragon is large enough to mount, their scales mould to the Draleid, holding them in place."
"Is Valerys large enough to mount?" Erik asked.
"We'll see." Vaeril shook at Calen's leg. The young man was slipping in and out of consciousness, the lavender light in his eyes flickering. "Straga. We are taking a boat from Straga. I will light a signal fire."
It was impossible to tell if Calen had understood, or even heard, what the elf said. But it was all that could be done. Shifting its body weight, the dragon pulled itself back to full height, its muscular neck moving from side to side. With a roar, it cracked its wings, spraying clouds of fine snow up into the air. Taking a few more steps forward, its wings beat again, lifting it slightly off the ground, then again, and again. Within moments the dragon was shooting into the sky, rising higher and higher. Tarmon just prayed the elf was right, otherwise they had sent Calen to his death.
The sound of beating wings thrummed through Calen's entire body. He groaned, peeling his eyes open, forcing his body to yield to his mind. His hands and fingers traced over the coarse, almost stone-like scales that armoured Valerys's neck. They were cool to the touch but somehow provided him with a sense of warmth.
Calen knew he had no right to even be conscious. His body screamed in agony: every muscle, every bone, every inch of skin. But strength flowed from Valerys, seeping into the cracks and crevices of Calen's mind. He could see, feel, hear – everything. There was not a point where Valerys's body stopped and Calen's started. They were one. The light that had obstructed Calen's eyes had peeled back now, but everything was not as it had been before. It was sharper.
The sensation was a bit unsettling at first – seeing everything through Valerys's eyes and his own at the same time – but it quickly became natural. Hundreds of feet below, he could see the torches of the riders and soldiers that had taken up chase after his companions. He could see the glimmer of their steel, the fur on their cloaks, the heat radiating from their bodies. Then he felt a fury unlike anything that had ever touched his mind, a blazing wrath that all but consumed him.
A deep, primal roar erupted from Valerys's jaws, the vibrations resonating through Calen's body. Valerys wheeled around, diving, plummeting straight for the riders. Calen's instinct was to panic, to grab for something to hold on to as the dragon dove almost vertically downward. But another feeling in the back of his mind told him there was no need. He could feel Valerys's scales holding him firmly, an unseen force keeping him securely on dragonback. Every hair on Calen's body tingled as he closed his eyes and spread out his hands, feeling the air ripple over him as Valerys dove. His soul was complete once more.
Even with his eyes closed, Calen could still see everything through Valerys's eyes. He took a deep breath through his nostrils, letting it fill his lungs, then exhaled before leaning down, pressing his chest against Valerys's scales. "Draleid n'aldryr, Valerys. Myia nithír til diar." Dragonbound by fire, Valerys. My soul to yours.
With those words, a deep vibration thrummed through Valerys's body, resonating in Calen's. He felt the pressure building in the back of his mind before Valerys opened his jaws and bathed the riders in a river of dragonfire. The flames washed over the soldiers, sweeping across their ranks from left to right as Valerys dove, devastating them. The force of the flames knocked men from horses and tore sod from the ground, incinerating everything it touched. Guilt crept into the corners of Calen's mind at the loss of life, but Valerys's fury held it at bay. Valerys's fury was Calen's fury; they were one and the same. And if those riders were left to carry on, they would run down Erik and the others. Calen could not let that happen.
Sweeping back down, Valerys snared a horse and rider in his claws, lifting them from the ground before rending them, bits of blood and gore staining the snow.
With that, the remaining riders and soldiers scattered, their morale broken. They fled in all directions, disappearing into the cover of the snow-capped forest. But Valerys's rage did not subside; it blazed like an inferno. The dragon wanted to kill them all for what they had done.
Soaring high into the sky, Valerys broke through a bank of clouds, the wind whipping past Calen's face, then he dove. As the clouds peeled away, Calen could see Valerys was diving towards Arisfall, and the familiar pressure was building at the back of his mind.
No.
Valerys let out an almighty roar, and for a moment Calen felt a deep loneliness flooding through him, washing over from Valerys. It was the same all-consuming loneliness Calen had felt in the cell. His heart bled at the thought of Valerys feeling so alone and helpless.
"I'm so sorry…" Calen ran his hand along Valerys's scaled neck, a deep rumble resonating from the dragon. "I'm sorry I let us be separated. I didn't know what those manacles would do."
The rumble in the dragon's chest intensified as more of Valerys's emotions spilled over into Calen's mind: grief, agony, fear. Valerys had felt the same emptiness Calen had. The same abject sorrow.
"I'm here now," Calen whispered, his head pressed to the back of Valerys's neck as the dragon dove through the sky. "But if we attack this city, the people of Drifaien will never trust us. We can't be like the empire. We can't be like the Dragonguard. We need to be better."
A long moment passed where Calen wasn't sure what Valerys would do, but then the dragon let out another monstrous roar, the vibration resonating through Calen's body. Arching his flight back upward, the dragon swooped away from the city.
As Valerys rose higher and higher, Calen let his eyes close, his body pressed against Valerys's scales.