Page 21 of Wings of Ice and Steel

She walked until the clamour of preparation dimmed, breathing deep of the rich, heather-scented air and closing her eyes, seeking her centre.

It was a common misconception that ‘fae’ was a varanyen’s natural form. That the other was only something summoned for the occasion. In actuality, the other half of her soul resided inside her, a separate entity that constantly raged to be free.

Well, as close to ‘free’ as she was ever likely to experience.

It took little effort to kindle the spark, to ignite the roiling, shifting power kept dormant under layers of mental restraint—it surged with blazing exhilaration along Ariadnne’s nerves, consuming and re-forming. The tunic tore and fell to the dirt, forgotten, as her body lengthened and expanded. White iridescent scales erupted along her back and a glorious mane of deep blue spines formed a ruff around her draconian head. Great wings burst forth in a riot of silver and blue, and steel-like claws curled from her feet.

A colossal eighty-foot dragon filled the space where she had been standing. With a bellow to the sky above she reared and shook out her mane, enjoying her freedom. From Ariadnne’s new position as passenger, she experienced her new form’s raw, unadulterated magic and power.

On cue, both Lucius and Regulus transformed, their hides a mottled black and red. Like most male varanyen, they were firedrakes, prancing and snorting flame full of inflated ego. Ariadnne’s anger surged, more volatile now, and she breathed a blade of ice which shattered between them. They cowered, instantly subservient, lowering their heads to be harnessed.

Three dragons could easily change the tide of a war, and the Guild’s monopoly over the varanyen was why their services were so coveted, and so expensive. If the Guild ever had the ambition, it could probably rule the continent. Fortunately for everyone, they were happy with passing that responsibility onto others—providing their pockets were lined.

Ariadnne’s dragon eyes swirled with colour; a deep violet interspersed with shades of blue. They became darker if she angered, matching the midnight sky, and when her heart soared, they simmered to a pale lilac. They were a brilliant blue as she turned her head to watch the harness team swarm over her body, attaching straps and fitting loops to her form. Her dragon’s curiosity peaked as Nieve moved closer, mouth falling open.

‘It can take you like that, the first time you see her shift,’ Melixanthe said, stepping up beside her.

Nieve simply smiled and said, ‘She’s perfect.’

Ariadnne’s soul tingled.

‘I don’t think you’ll regret your choice, put it that way.’ Melixanthe leapt forwards to swing up the ladder hanging behind Ariadnne’s foreleg. The other knights were doing the same, clambering to take position along her spine. Most carried longbows, capable of shooting over great distances, while bundles of javelins along with wickedly pointed spears were stowed at intervals along the harness, making Ariadnne a deadly aerial force. Nieve was the last to mount the ladder. Ariadnne’s dragon swung her great head round to watch and Nieve smiled.

‘I hope this is okay?’ she whispered and reached for the next rung. In response, the dragon, nudged by Ariadnne, breathed out the softest puff of frozen air. Icy flakes that settled on Nieve’s skin.

Above, Melixanthe settled into her position at the base of Ariadnne’s neck. Josef, as Second, took point on her left shoulder and Nieve swung herself up to take point on her right. Lord D’avant and his men were still clustered around her feet, gawking. Ariadnne snorted.

Puny being, her dragon whispered, and Ariadnne agreed silently. He was enjoyably wide-eyed and slack jawed as members of the company helped him and his men up the ladders, checking they were secure.

The last to mount were the support team, who buzzed over Ariadnne’s form like bees, checking all the luggage was secure and that the harnessing was sound. Eventually the head engineer gave the signal for all clear.

‘All locked in?’ Melixanthe bellowed down Ariadnne’s spine.

‘Aye, General!’ everyone shouted back.

‘All clear, Ari. Let’s go!’ Melixanthe signalled to Lucius and Regulus’ handlers and gave their team the signal to brace.

Everyone took position as Ariadnne gathered herself and launched into the air, her great wings unfurling. She exalted in the rush of wind past her scales the freedom of the sky.

Onwards to battle and war.

Nine

Nieve

The gnarled peaks of the Boron mountains clawed at the dawning sky as they soared into range. The frozen tips reminded Nieve of home—the tall mountains that bred ice elementals, like her. But where Miradael was a cluster of narrow spires, the Borons stretched for miles, forming an impassable divide that ran from the north coast to the east. Her pang of homesickness was chased swiftly by guilt; she’d left Miradael for good reasons, but that didn’t mean her people didn’t need her.

She banished the thought.

There was a break in the chain below; Monmouth Valley, a cleft between mountains that stretched three miles or so. Tall and dark against the horizon, the keep stood proud in the centre of the valley, embedded into a ten-foot-high wall, its crenelated turrets like teeth against the dawning sky.

Nieve’s hair whipped across her eyes, and for the thousandth time, she swept it back as she peered over Ariadnne’s shoulder. The dragon-queen was immense. Nieve could stand comfortably on her back, the long strap of her harness bracing her at the waist, instead of having to sit between spines the way she had on Lucius. It was a wonderful feeling to balance on the undulating shoulder, a strip of leather the only thing between her and the plains below.

It was crowded down there, the campfires of allied troops sparkling like a sea of torchbugs in the murky dawn. Every minor lord must have sent soldiers—in case the dragons failed.

Given the raw power bunching beneath her feet, Nieve couldn’t imagine Ariadnne failing.

Melixanthe raised a fist, and around Nieve knights crouched, gripping the straps of the harness that criss-crossed Ariadnne’s hide. Nieve was slow to realise what this meant as Ariadnne tucked her wings and dropped, throwing her backwards.