Eighteen
“Crap.” Ryn urges Arthur forward, but the flying creatures are gaining on us.
“Would now be a good time to say ‘I told you so’?” I ask. Ryn was so certain Draven’s guards wouldn’t show up on dragons, and yet here they are. Flying toward us.
“Probably not. How about later?” Ryn twists around to get another look at our pursuers. “Although … I’m not entirely sure those are dragons.”
Arthur roars and swerves to the right as sparks strike his left wing. I clutch Ryn’s waist to keep from being thrown off while Ryn wraps an arm around Arthur’s neck. Moments later, a spear glances off Arthur’s thick hide. “They’re not guardians,” Ryn says, watching the ordinary spear plunge into the ocean. Arthur twists his long neck around and sends a burst of flames behind us. He flaps his wings fie
