Keep scrolling for a sneak peek at chapter one of Field of Fire, the seventh and final Drake novel.
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The cry came again, closer, and cold terror
gripped Reggie around the heart. Sank claws, and fangs, and threatened to crush
his chest. “Gods,” he whispered. “Oh, Gods.”
The Sels had drakes. The Sels likely had
hundreds, maybe even thousands of drakes, based on the roadside assault: the
portal, the dog-sized drakes pouring through in whole flocks, and the massive head
and neck, lopped off when the portal closed. What were they flying toward now?
How could they hope to survive it?
He hauled on the left rein. “Lennie, no, turn
away—”
Too late.
The cloud floor exploded ahead of them, a hundred
or so yards away. White burst through white, a tumble of soft, dull clouds, and
something hard and gleaming, reflecting the pink sunrise with dazzling
brightness.
Valencia pulled up short, halting in midair,
wings beating backward. Reggie lurched forward in the saddle and caught himself
on her shoulders. When he glanced down, a gap in the clouds revealed jagged
peaks below, like the squiggles on a map from this height.
Nausea rolled through him. He sucked in a breath
and sat up, reaching for his sword hilt with one hand, for all the good it
would do.
As tatters of cloud streamed sway, the enemy took
shape. Drakes. Three of them, of similar size to the fire-drakes, but a
gleaming snow white in color.
Alpha roared.
The largest white drake roared back.
Three things happened at once.
Reggie recalled what Amelia had said about Oliver
and Tessa, about their drakes being cold-drakes; being white.
Reggie spotted riders on two of the
drakes. The straps of saddles, breastplates, and the flutter of long leather
reins just like the ones he held.
And Alpha ducked his head, pumped his wings, and
flew toward them like an arrow loosed from a bow.
“No!” Reggie bellowed. “Alpha, no!”
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