The first two and a half hours were as miserable as expected. First we went and found a suitable Nest Heart for Herald to top herself off, and then we headed straight for the sea. We were an hour off the coast of Mallin when the rain stopped. It held as a steady downpour for several miles off the coast, then grew lighter so gradually that we barely noticed when we were finally out of it. The dark, heavy clouds broke up, and quite suddenly, somewhere in the middle of the Sareyan Sea, we emerged into the sunlight.

  I’d had a chance to enjoy the warmth of the sun only days before, among the Happaran islands, and had a peek now and then when I’d flown alone above the clouds. Herald, though, whooped and cheered on my back, twisting to look behind us so she could feel the sun on her face for the first time in weeks.

  There were a respectable number of islands between Mallin and Vanar, some large enough to be inhabited but most of them islets, barely more than rocks. I set down on one of the smaller islands, no more than two hundred feet across, covered in short, hardy grass and home to a colony of tasty-looking seals that barked and snorted in my general direction as I landed. Herald stayed on my back, and after a short struggle she had her rain gear off and stowed. I would have Shifted to get myself dry, but with just the two of us it would have taken us a quarter of an hour to redo all the straps. I knew, logically, that we could afford the delay, but it didn’t feel worth it. In the sun and the drier air I’d be comfortable soon enough. I contented myself with a good shake, Herald laughing and playfully scolding me as she held on, and then we were on our way again.

  With Herald comparatively dry, and with the clear weather and warm sun, I decided to take us higher. Vanar wasn’t a small island, being about three quarters the size of Mallin based on the maps I’d seen, but it was longer than it was wide and we were coming at it from the narrow end, with the city of Tavvanar occupying most of the south-western point. I didn’t want to accidentally pass north or south of the city, and climbing from a thousand feet to about a mile more than doubled the distance to the horizon, from what I’d seen.

  It paid off quickly.

  “Left!” Herald shouted, clapping me on the corresponding shoulder. “I see land ahead and to the left! Do an eighth turn and we will be over it soon!”

  I looked where she’d said. All I saw was sea, sky, and the haze in between, but Herald’s eyes were supposedly the whole reason she’d come along, and I trusted her without question. “Soon” turned out to be an hour, but she steered us right, just as I’d known that she would.

  We passed right over the city, and I did my best to give her a good look. “I wish we could stay!” she called, and the intense wind tearing past couldn’t hide how heavy her voice was with disappointment. I considered turning back to circle a bit, so she could get a longer look. I was damned curious myself — it was a huge place, just as Tam and Val had described it, spreading far wider than Karakan. But I hardened my heart and forged on. We could see the city again on the way back. Or we could just take a daytrip once the current trouble was dealt with.

  I stowed it in the back of my mind as one more reason I couldn’t fail. Doing something nice for Herald probably shouldn’t have counted for almost as much as surviving and preserving all that I’d built for myself in the last six months, but it did. I decided I was better off not analyzing that too closely.

  The sea was about a hundred and fifty miles wide between Karakan and Tavvanar. The island of Vanar was another four hundred miles or so long, its northern side a chain of mountains that rose sharply from the waves and stretched the length of the island, then decreased steadily in height for a hundred miles before reaching sea level again. Reaper had been seen landing on a mountain near the north-eastern end, clear across the island from where we were, putting them another six or seven hours away at a reasonable speed. I could do it in five if I had to, but it would be far more tiring for me and, more importantly, far more uncomfortable for Herald. And we didn’t want to get too close, anyway, not after my promises to my family — the idea was to get a look at the mystery dragon, not to meet them.

  My plan, then, was to find a tall mountain, one with a wide view, where Herald and I could settle in for the night and wait for Reaper to emerge. Everything the councilors had been able to tell me said that Reaper only flew during the day. Hopefully that should still be true, and we’d be able to get some rest during the night. My endurance with Greater Fortitude was ridiculous, but I couldn’t see myself flying for days on end, and Herald would need sleep.

  This was, of course, assuming that Reaper hadn’t left their mountain this morning. We couldn’t know that, but Herald had been keeping her eyes sharp, scanning the sky, and she hadn’t seen anything bigger than a particularly impressive eagle. We’d been high enough, and the skies had been clear enough, that I didn’t see how we could have possibly missed them. Herald agreed that we’d have to continue on the assumption that we hadn’t, and that Reaper was still resting.

  Tomorrow, then. We’d have to be ready tomorrow.

  East Mountain was easy to find, and seeing it made the reason for its name obvious. The chain of mountains that ran along Vanar’s northern side gave way to foothills at either end. In the east, though, a single, lonely peak rose out of the sea, at the farthest point of the island. This, supposedly, was where Reaper was resting for the final push to Mallin.

  Because of how it was situated, finding somewhere to rest that overlooked the mountain was only a small challenge. The biggest problem was all the trees — the mountains here were greener, and the treeline higher than on Mallin. There were few bare peaks, and both East Mountain and the peak that Herald and I settled on were almost entirely covered in forest. It was one of the last proper mountains in the chain, and while flying around we found a nice, clear spot on the side, out of the wind and with a breathtaking view of the lone peak and its surrounding sea and landscape. There was a large, sheltered bay at the foot of it, and Herald said that there were some ships at anchor there, no doubt taking advantage of the clear blue natural harbor.

  It was altogether beautiful. I liked the view from my cave, of the forest and the distant sea, but this was enough to make me think I was missing out.

  I left Herald to unpack her provisions while I flew off to have a nice, long drink, and then we settled in to wait and watch. We enjoyed the view, Herald pointing out things that I had no hope of seeing. We talked and joked and laughed until the sun set — anything to keep the nerves away. Then we slept in shifts, Herald taking the morning watch where it was more likely that Reaper might emerge for an early start.

  They didn’t. Herald ate her breakfast, then strapped herself in on my back, and we watched the mountain together as the sun rose. For hours nothing happened. No dragon took to the sky.

  Then Herald said, “Huh. There are some boats on the shore there that were not there last night. Towards the mountain.”

  “Yeah? Taking on supplies maybe?”

  “Perhaps. That would—”

  She pushed herself up, her breath catching. Then she shouted “Go! Go! Now!”

  I didn’t hesitate. I sprang into the air, climbing fast and keeping my distance from East Mountain as I shouted, “What? What did you see?”

  “Smoke, and fire, and a goddamned dragon! Huge! Just… huge!” Her voice was frantic, her grip hard enough to be uncomfortable. “Reaper’s out, and burning the mountaintop! I do not know what they are trying to do, but they are diving on the same spot, over and over, and the fire… Draka, the fire is— I cannot even call it fire! Not even a color, just shimmering brightness so strong that it burns my eyes! The stone, it’s— I think it’s boiling!”

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  “Maybe a bear fucked with ‘em?” I joked half-heartedly. Neither of us laughed. We were at least thirty miles from East Mountain, but soon even I could see thick, gray smoke rising. The fire must have been spreading.

  “The damn boats,” Herald said.

  The damn boats, indeed. It probably wasn’t a bear that Reaper was upset with.

  Instinct was restless. Not quite fearful, not yet, but right on edge. “We should not be here,” she said, her anxiety mixing with my own and Herald’s and whipping up a storm in my gut. “We have seen enough. We must put more distance between us! The Herald can see to the horizon. There is no need to be so close!”

  Yeah. Yeah, you’re right, I thought back at her, and called back to Herald. “I’m going to put some distance between us, all right? You’ll have to crane your neck a bit!”

  “Right!”

  I turned, flying away from East Mountain in a long zig-zag that let Herald keep her eyes on the mountain. “They landed!” Herald called out shortly, and then, after a few minutes, “Now they are in the air again, and— Oh! Oh gods and Mercies, Draka! They’re coming this way! Right for us, straight as a damn arrow! Fly! Fly!”

  I didn’t question. I didn’t hesitate. I turned, pointing my tail at East Mountain and driving hard, accelerating as fast as I ever had in a straight line. Herald’s tone had been at the edge of panic, and when she said that Reaper was coming for us, she didn’t mean just coming in our direction. We’d been spotted, and we were being pursued.

  I beat my wings as fast and as hard as I could. We tore through the air, Herald pressing herself into me with hands locked to elbows around my neck and heels digging in under my hips. She lifted her head for a moment, and guessing that she was trying to look behind us I turned just a little, straightening out again as she pressed her cheek back into my neck. I felt her jaw move and heard the muted sound of her voice, but her words were lost to the wind.

  The landscape below drifted past at a deceptively slow pace. If not for the way the air screamed through the harness and around Herald’s body, one might have thought that we were going slowly. But after months in the air, I knew better. I must have been flying at a hundred miles per hour, and sure, I’d gone faster before, but that had been in or after a dive. I’d never maintained that kind of speed in level flight, and after half an hour I was starting to feel it. I couldn’t keep it up for much longer.

  Was it even necessary? I had no idea how fast Reaper was. I knew that they’d traveled hundreds of miles per day, but I’d done five hundred miles or so the day before, at a reasonable speed. Was I wearing myself out for nothing?

  I slowed down enough to be able to speak, but not enough to be able to turn my head. I didn’t waste any words. I changed my heading a little, shouting, “Where’s Reaper?”

  I felt Herald shift again, and in the corner of my eye I saw her turning her head to look behind us. “Turn! More!” she screamed, her words clipped and barely audible. I did as she’d asked, turning another few degrees, and her head almost immediately whipped back towards me. When she did, I had to slow enough to look her in the face. Her eyes were huge, mouth frozen in fear. My fearless little dragon was utterly terrified.

  “Miles!” she shouted, and I could see the effort it took to force the words out. “A few miles away!”

  It felt like my heart stopped. Or maybe it was beating so fast I couldn’t tell the difference. I turned back to the south-west. I flew as hard as I could. I dove, picking up more speed, but my gut told me it was futile. I’d been flying the fastest I ever had, and all that time, Reaper had been gaining.

  We couldn’t escape. Not through speed. Certainly not through any fancy flying — that would only slow us down.

  All right. Fine. No worries. We couldn’t outrun Reaper, so we’d just have to hide instead. And no one could hide like us.

  To the north, the mountains were growing taller as we approached the middle of the range. I turned, sharply enough that I felt the straps of the harness dig into my hide as centrifugal force tried to throw Herald from my back. They held. This was exactly what the harness was for, and it proved its worth.

  “It’s. Still. Coming!” Herald screamed, every word a monumental effort, and I pushed myself as hard as I possibly could. I targeted the deep valley between two green peaks, keeping nothing in reserve. As long as we could stay ahead of the other dragon for a few more minutes, as long as we could find a deep enough crevice or cave, we could land, Shift, and hide. Good fucking luck, Reaper, finding two shadows inside a mountain!

  “Getting! Closer!” Herald shouted from my back, putting her all into each word to let me hear them. “Two! Miles!”

  I dove, picking up that little bit of extra speed. The forest rose below us with terrifying speed, and I had to level out or I’d just have to climb again. Trees flashed past, and I turned hard to the east, hoping to put a mountain between us and Reaper, to give us another moment to hide.

  “Eyes open! A cave! A crack! Anything!”

  Herald’s head moved, nodding into my neck. I climbed again, and in moments her left arm curled around me, her right letting go. I turned my head, muscles straining against the wind so it wouldn’t just snap back, and she was pointing wordlessly up and towards the peak I was rounding. As I turned and climbed her arm moved, trembling with the strain until it was pointing straight ahead.

  I was flying straight towards the peak. But my field of view was wide, and to my right was the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen.

  Reaper didn’t look so big, until I considered the distance. At a mile off, with the size they appeared… the wingspan on that bastard must have been sixty feet. With the sun on their scales, glinting in brass and reds and oranges, they looked like fire taken flight.

  I’d never seen a dragon before, except for a few distorted glimpses in a still pond or piece of polished silver. Seeing Reaper coming for me gave me a new kind of respect for every human I’d ever met who hadn’t run screaming. Part of me, everything in me that was human really, was ready to give up. To just curl up and wait for death, or to steer straight into the ground so that I wouldn’t have to experience that nightmare reaching me. I wouldn’t have, not really. Especially not with Herald on my back. But the impulse was there. The thought occurred to me, before I dismissed it.

  Instinct and everything in me that was draconic never considered that. To Instinct there were three options: Submit, flee, or fight. The first was a non-starter. Fighting was, if not impossible, then not likely to end the way we wanted. And, again, not with Herald on our back. Instinct, Conscience, and I didn’t agree on many things, but when it came to Herald, how precious she was and what we’d give up to protect her, we were of one mind.

  So, we fled. We fled as fast as we could. I followed Herald’s pointing finger until I saw a vertical break in the trees framing a tall crack in the mountain, and I barely slowed down as I approached. I judged its width, glided, then pulled my wings in so that I wouldn’t smash them against the rock. Only when I had solid stone to every side did I open them again, as much as I could, to try and slow down before I smashed into the ground.

  I still hit going monstrously fast. Herald screamed. I’d prepared myself and managed to turn the first impact into a springing leap that shocked every joint in my legs. On the second hit I was going slower, but I stumbled, crashing into the floor and skidding with only two thoughts in my mind: Keep your head up, and Don’t roll. For the love of all that is good in your life, don’t roll.

  Herald was on my back. She was still screaming. Fear, not pain — she’d let go of my neck before I hit, and her arms should be safe. And for once I was glad to hear her scream. If she stopped screaming, that might mean that I’d rolled, and if that happened…

  I wouldn’t have been surprised if I was at or above a thousand pounds. If I rolled on top of Herald, at the speed we were going, that was it. So it wouldn’t happen. Even if I had to use my wings to stop it, smashing them to splinters, I would not roll. Simple as.

  It didn’t come to that, God and gods and Mercies be praised. We skidded to a stop deep inside the crevice, and I was dimly aware of Herald struggling with her straps, her voice frantic.

  “Draka! Draka, are you all right? Say something! Please! Please, Draka, say something!”

  “Fuuuck!” I groaned. “That hurt!”

  “Oh, thank the Mercies! Draka, I know that you’re hurt. I know that you’re in pain. But, you have to Shift! Now, all right? We have to move. Reaper—” the name came out strangled, and she had to swallow hard before continuing. “Reaper’s here. Okay? Reaper’s coming.”

  Heeere's Mommy!

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