After a moment, Tom frowned. “They ain’t flying?”

“It’s the storm. Lightning is dangerous to dragons, very dangerous. They won’t fly in a storm if they can avoid it,” Jet explained. He drew up the hood of his cloak and stepped out into the rain.

“Where are you going?” Tom asked, stepping after him.

Gideon smirked as he passed by, lifting his own hood. “Dragon-hunting! It’s been too long since I killed some dragons!”

“Dragon-hunting—there’s no need to put yourselves on the line for us. After what we did…” Tom said, shaking his head.

Gideon paused. He stepped back and put a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “That’s right, there isn’t. But we’re doing it anyway. Hmm, if I were you, I’d probably feel pretty guilty right now. After all, you treated us outsiders mighty poorly.”

“Gideon,” Jet warned, narrowing his eyes.

Glancing at Jet, Gideon gave him a thumbs up and waved his hand to indicate Jet should go ahead, he’d catch up. He leaned in toward Tom and continued, at a conspiratorial whisper, “You know what makes guilt go away? Giving people gold.”

Tom shoved Gideon away. “One more word, son.”

“Gideon!” Jet repeated, louder this time.

“Alright, alright. Food for thought, alright, Tom?” he said. He ran to Jet’s side, but turned back to toss Tom a wink.

After a moment, Elly charged out of the church, draped in a worn old cloak of her own. She followed the boys at a safe distance, staff clutched under an arm. Tom reached out to stop her as she passed, but she twisted by. “This is my duty, Tom!”

Tom scowled. “It isn’t safe.”

Elly smiled, as warm as sunshine. “Duty rarely is.”

Left alone in the church, Tom sighed. He looked after the other three and shook his head. “These kids make an old man feel worthless, sometimes.”

At the sight of them, Eric’s eyes burned. He ran toward them, howling and brandishing his crook, sending the wyverns into a riot. They raced across the fields, zeroing in on the town at last. One of the wyverns, braver than the rest, took to the air and shot toward Jet and Gideon, leathery wings beating against the rain.

Gideon thrust his tome out. Pages flipped by. Raindrops splattered on the tome, but ran off the black pages, unable to soak in. “Secondary spell, Lightning Surge! Critical-cast!”

Two pages burned up. Overhead, the lightning flickering in the clouds began to gather together into a spot of bright golden light. The bright light chased after the wyvern, beaming down like a bonfire. Sensing something wrong, the dragon turned its long neck upward.

“Die, dragon, die!” Gideon shouted gleefully.

A torrent of lightning poured from the sky and slammed into the wyvern. The wyvern let out a pained screech and plummeted, scales blackened. It hit the earth with a thump, startling Eric. He stared at the blackened body, then looked up at Gideon and Jet slowly, a new kind of horror in his eyes.

Jet charged down the hill, taking the lead. His blade glowed blue-white as he slashed at the wyverns. Blocks of ice materialized over the heads of two of them and slammed into them. The two wyverns snapped around to face him, emanating low growls from their throats. Ignoring Eric, they fluttered their fore-wings and hopped toward Jet, fire flickering in their throats.

Jet slashed out again. Ice materialized on the wings of the fore-wyvern, weighing it down just as it leaped into the air to swoop at him. It crashed to the ground with a startled shriek. The other one charged head-first over the ground, clawed hind legs pumping, dagger-like teeth bared for Jet’s throat.

“Die, oversized draconic murder-chickens, die!” Gideon bellowed, running up behind Jet. Lightning lanced from his hand and struck the charging wyvern. Its whole body stiffened, its eyes went blank, and it collapsed, sliding to a halt beside Jet. He spun and thrust his hand again, and the wyvern with iced wings screeched as lightning burst through its body.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Eric stared at them, gaping, jaw wide. His mouth worked, but no words came out.

“Is anyone hurt? Did the wyverns hurt anyone?” Elly asked, bringing up the rear. Her eyes lit on Eric, and she hurried over, lifting her skirts to climb over the wyvern’s bodies. She dropped down at his side, peering at his injury.

Eric lowered his arm, hiding it. He turned his head away. “It’s fine.”

Elly closed her eyes and held out her staff. “O healing power, hear my call!”

White light streamed from the staff and settled over his side, closing the wound. Eric glanced at Elly, then turned his head away. His cheeks burned from embarrassment, but petulantly, he refused to thank her.

Gideon glanced over his shoulder. “That was a different incantation, that time. You didn’t say anything about bringing him back to life.”

Elly shrugged. “Different severity of the injuries. Besides, it’s a bit like shouting something when you critical-cast. You let the mana grip you, and it comes out, whether you want it to or not.”

Jet frowned. “It just… comes out? I thought you were doing it on purpose.”

“I’m not not doing it on purpose,” Gideon said, shrugging.

“Is that why you shout ‘die, dragon, die,’ even when you attack people?” Jet asked.

Crashing sounded from around the corner. A sharp scream split the air.

Jet furrowed. He pointed, counting the corpses on the ground. One, two, three… shit! Where’s the fourth?

Gideon sprinted into the town, Elly on his heels. Jet chased after them, gritting his teeth. “Hey! Wait up!”

At this late hour, especially with the storm, few people wandered the town. The wyvern stalked the streets, claws clicking over the cobbled roads. It hunched low, claw-tipped wings huddled close to its body, its head stretched out in front of it, vicious green eyes blinking slowly. Acid dripped from between its teeth and sizzled where it splashed down, leaving a hissing trail of ash behind it. Eyes locked on its prey, it stepped forward.

The stable boy huddled in the tavern’s doorway, folded up in a corner of the doorframe. He tugged at the tavern’s door, but the door didn’t budge. Desperately, he hammered at the door.

“Go away! Find somewhere else to hide!” someone shouted from inside the tavern.

“What if it gets in here? Go! Shoo!”

Tears rolled down the stable boy’s face. Trembling, he shook his head and knocked harder. He glanced over his shoulder at the wyvern, which slowly approached. The wyvern’s head hung in the air, a single point of stability around which its whole body moved. With each step, it drew closer.

“Stop right there!” Jet shouted.

Startled by his shout, the wyvern jerked back its head. Acid gargled in its throat, and it spat at the stable boy.

The stable boy’s eyes flew wide. He curled up, hands over his head.

Jet stabbed at the air in the same moment. A block of ice materialized around the acid ball. The ice and frozen acid both slammed into the tavern door above the stable boy, then dropped down, bouncing harmlessly off his body. He jolted, then peered out from behind his hands, surprised to find himself still alive.

Gideon drew a deep breath. He gestured, and lightning congealed around him, shaping into a bolt. “Die, dragon, die!”

The wyvern jumped, but too slow. Lightning met it in midair and zapped it to a crisp. It tumbled out of the air and rolled a few times, slamming to a halt against a wall.

Elly ran over to the stable boy, looking him over for injuries. Finding none, she offered him a hand up. He glanced at her, fear in his eyes, then weakly took her hand. She helped him to his feet, and he gave her a shy smile as thanks.

The rain piddled to a halt. Overhead, the storm clouds faded to a thin cloak of cover, enough to blur the moon to a pale shade.

Gideon sagged visibly, wiping his brow with a shaking hand. “Whew. I’m pooped.”

Jet glanced at him. “You probably didn’t have to critical-cast for wyverns. They aren’t that strong.”

Snapping his tome shut, Gideon shrugged. “Better to overkill than no-kill.”

“What does that mean?” Jet grumbled. He shook his head. Whatever this madman wants to do, I guess. I shouldn’t interfere in a mage’s methods.

He paused, then undid the tome harness at his hips. He held it out to Gideon. “Here.”

Gideon looked at the harness, then at Jet. He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Jet shrugged. “I’ve let you keep the tome all night. I think… I might as well let you have it all the time. You can handle it responsibly… or rather, I don’t want to get drawn into your bullshit next time.”

“Huh. Thanks. I thought you’d forgotten it,” Gideon said. He took the harness and strapped it around his waist, then bound up the tome. Testing it, he pulled the quick-release strap and caught the tome, bound it again, then pulled the strap again, adjusting the harness until he was happy with the result.

“What, were you just not going to say anything and hope I didn’t ask for the murder-weapon back?” Jet scoffed.

Gideon shrugged. “I mean… yeah, that was the plan. I wasn’t going to give it back if you didn’t ask for it.”

Jet rolled his eyes, then sighed. “Did you really think I’d forgotten it?”

“I don’t know your business. In the end, I don’t really care if you forgot it or not, as long as I could keep it,” he replied.

Another sigh. Jet shook his head. “If you attack anyone without reason, that tome goes back into my hands, understand?”

“Yes, Dad,” Gideon mocked.