I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2) Marc Secchia (most read books .TXT) 📖

Faultless logic as always, he grumbled as she swung onto his neck. Doesn’t it ever get boring?

When I’m flying with you? Never, she glibly deflected. Sweet little thing. He had five hearts and every single one of them had a fiery spot for her. What the heck is that weapon Gazaram’s wielding?

As he cleared the tower, his vision finally rushed back together again, from opposite ends of Solixambria, it seemed. Clever trick.

Good thing he still had a brain. This dark magic was a fearful thing, even for a bruiser like him.

Gazaram wielded a metal staff about six feet in length. A shining two-foot blade protruded from either end. The shaft was liberally studded with gleaming green verdelite gemstones, useful both as handgrips and to supply the eerie power with which he was steadily beating Ariamyrielle Seaspray backward. Her mighty blades smoked where they clashed. Clearly, the warrior Dragoness was at the ‘what the infernal hellfire am I facing here?’ stage of working out her combat strategy, because she gave up ground steadily. Was she concerned about the state of her weapons?

Gnarr-blasted-death! he swore furiously as one of her swords snapped just as he thought about it.

Dive! Dragon collected his fire inside his chest. One hit. One was all it should take. He would sweep Gazaram right off that narrow bridge and smash his followers into oblivion.

Lord Gazaram’s dark cloak swirled around his tall, blocky frame as he whirled his staff through the air, more than holding up against what Dragon would have taken for Aria’s far superior martial arts skills – or was she now in the tower’s ambit, as confused as he had just been? Multiple cuts appeared on her body and wings as if by magic in the couple of seconds it took him to hurtle down to the level of the bridge, which arched about forty feet above the surf.

In the instant his leathery wings snapped open and Dragon made his swoop for the men, fire gathering behind his fangs, the man whirled and plucked from amidst his men a small, squalling bundle of humanity.

The youngest brother!

Azania cried out like a lone gull, despair and rage mingled in her voice.

A gust of wind picked him up and hurled him toward the bridge. Hold fire! At the last second, he yanked his left wing up and out of the way, slewing sideways as he shoulder-smashed Gazaram’s guards into the ocean below. Both he and the Princess snatched for the boy, bundled up in black cloths, but their adversary swung him away from their grasp with a low laugh. He back-thrust with his strange sword, gashing Dragon’s neck deeply.

As they hurtled away, both Dragon and Rider turned to glance over their shoulders. No need of sound to hear what the man said.

Holding the writhing bundle aloft, he called, “Why don’t you play catch?”

With that, he tossed the child off the bridge.

Aria dived in an instant. The shadowy figure swirled past her, hacking into the frilly trailing edge of her left wing as he vanished into the gloom around the tower’s gate.

Azerim! he gasped.

Drink some seawater, quick. You’re dry again.

How did she know and he didn’t? Dragon dipped his wings, taking them down to skim over the surging water. Experimental. Lowering his jaw, he let the cool water froth between his fangs and down his throat.

“Darn, he hit me,” Azania growled, sounding aggrieved.

“Where? Are you alright?”

“My … uh, right breast,” she said. “No jokes.”

“I hope Azerim is good with bandages,” he chortled on cue, earning himself a slap. “Up we go.”

“It’s bleeding more than I’d have expected.” As they raced up the weathered side of the sea stack, she dug a length of bandage out from her belt pouch, tried a couple of things, and with a sigh, stuffed her cut full of cloth. “It’ll have to do. I haven’t got anything long to tie around your neck – besides, your blood’s very hot.”

“I’ll live,” he muttered.

“You’d better!”

This was all the conversation they had time for. Re-joining the Rangers at the top, they met with the Sankir. “Hole’s tiny. Maybe big enough for one,” he suggested, looking at the Princess.

“No,” Dragon growled.

“There’s a barred window lower down where you can see the King,” he added. “He’s chained up pretty thoroughly. Wrists and neck to the wall, hood over his head. I’ve no doubt Gazaram’s going for the kill. We’ve two archers watching the window, but from what I just saw down on the bridge … we’ve a minute. Maybe two at most.”

Azania eyed the hole they had quarried earlier. “How hot –”

“Red hot,” said the Anhoyal Ranger leader.

“Toss me through.”

“NO!” Dragon growled. “You are not facing that man alone!”

“We’ve no time. Azerim’s dead otherwise. Throw me through, and then try to deepen the hole to get a couple more Rangers inside, alright? The second you hear me call, get your scaly butt down to that barred window … you’ll know what to do.”

For Azerim? he asked.

I’ve no choice.

He nodded at once, sensing her frustration, desire and courage. I understand. Let’s do this – together?

She clutched his upraised paw. Always.

If you see any large green gems in there, destroy them – from a distance, alright?

Got it.

Shuffling toward the tower – one of three in his vision just now – Dragon prepared to do what he hated most. Aye, this despairing Dragon planned to toss his Princess directly into danger.

She unstrapped from his neck and stepped down into his paw. “Get me close. I’ll dive through, I think. Practised this plenty of times during my illegal gymnastics classes, but never through a red-hot window. Lower, lower … good. Steady paw, please.”

Right. He had to hold his wrist with the other paw. Shaking like a reed.

Her