Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

faster.
    Adrenaline and lack of breath dueled with one another as they attempted to race over
     a small rise. A crash came from their left, its strength so great it dropped them
     to their knees. They couldn’t tear their eyes away as trees, dirt and ash were tossed
     into the air. For a split second Riley thought she made out the shape and color of
     a red wing, but then it was buried in chaos.
    The madness came to an end, but what rose over the treetops below was a sight to dazzle
     the mind, dust and ash still in the air; the red dragon rose from the rubble, his
     head and back and folded wings coming fully clear of the smaller trees. Jaw, lined
     with wicked teeth, opened wide, eyes almost alight with fire, in their depths a crimson
     red.
    A second, much smaller dragon, a gleaming black, burst from the ashes, wings out from
     its torn, bloody body, the wedge-shaped head reaching with snapping teeth toward the
     red dragon.
    “Holy shit,” Ben whispered.
    Under the circumstances, Riley found the profanity utterly appropriate. The two enraged
     dragons turned their heads in tandem and pinned their focus on Riley and her companions.
    Fear had been her constant companion this entire trip, but now, as the gazes of the
     giant red and the smaller black dragon rested on them, fear turned to terror. A rotting,
     twisted evil shredded her insides, and heat so hot it felt like she was trying to
     hold the sun in her chest burst through her body.
    Riley fell to her knees. Sickness washed through her, seeming to spread from the ground
     up as if living mold and fungus raced over her skin. A terrible, poisonous voice began
     clawing at her mind, speaking the same language the porters had used.
    Then it was over. The terrible voice fell silent as the black dragon let out a furious
     roar. The red dragon answered, his shout like a force of nature, the shock waves of
     the sound strong enough to flatten trees.
    Riley’s hands came up, covering over her ears. She felt a pressure in her chest as
     she saw the black dragon turn and climb up the mountain. The red dragon followed close
     behind.
    A hand grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. Jubal. The man always seemed to hold on to his nerves no matter what happened.
    “We need to get away from here now .”
    The ground began to rumble and quake. On the volcano less than a mile above them,
     new vents split open, releasing geysers of steam and hot gas.

    “Holy shit.” The whispered words sounded crystal clear to Dax’s dragon-enhanced senses.
    Four humans were huddled together on the ash-covered mountainside. Dax caught a glimpse
     of shocked faces. Three men huddled protectively around the smaller, curvier frame
     of a woman. Inside the red dragon, Dax felt a strange awareness—like a crystalline
     note singing through the dragon’s veins. Rich, vibrant, alive. All at once Dax smelt
     the rich, fertile aroma of the forest, of earth. Through the dragon’s eyes, he could
     see it, a verdant glow of green that seemed to radiate from the spot where the woman’s
     feet touched the ground. Dax couldn’t see her face, but Dax knew instantly who she
     was. The power of the earth was so strong with her, she could only be the latest descendent
     of Arabejila.
    Protect them! he cried into the Old One’s mind.
    The red dragon snarled and snapped at the air in a clear warning, and the four humans
     took off running down the mountainside. The black dragon hissed and charged toward
     them, but the Old One leapt into his path. The two beasts began a bizarre dance between
     predators as Mitro looked for a way around the giant red dragon, stepping to the side,
     bobbing his head, only to be matched step for step, move for move.
    With no choice but to trust the Old One to keep Mitro from the humans, Dax directed
     his full attention to healing the dragon’s wounds from the inside out, while simultaneously
     trying to find a way to separate himself from the bombardment of visceral emotion
     and bring the red dragon under his control. The Old One was a ferocious fighter, but
     he had no sense of self-preservation and no intention of letting any other being dominate
     his actions, even for his own good.
    Their shared body was badly injured, dangerous amounts of blood gushing from deep
     wounds, internal organs damaged almost beyond repair, but his spirit fought Dax’s
     attempt to divert him from his prey. The Old One was completely consumed by the need
     to rend and kill his