Warcry

Xy?”
    “I do,” Heath said. “And as proof of my vow, I offer this ring to bind thee to me.”
    Atira placed her hand in Heath’s and cried as he slid the ring on her finger.
    “Then by the grace of the Sun God, I pronounce thee husband and wife, and direct thee to seal thy marriage with a—”
    Atira threw herself at Heath, almost forgetting her shoulder. She remembered in time, using her good arm to wrap around his neck and pull him into a kiss. Her lip was still fairly sore, but her heart’s joy made it easy to ignore.
    Heath wrapped his arms around her, supporting and lifting her feet off the ground as he kissed her.
    Laughter filled the air, and cheers and the clapping of hands followed. Atira was still crying as Heath set her down, his own eyes glittering with tears.
    Until a shadow covered the courtyard.
    The warmth of the sun was gone in an instant, leaving only the sound of a tent in the wind. Atira looked up, but Heath reacted first, pulling her back and away. Atira followed his gaze as the laughter died around them, and the silence was cut by the scream of a terrified horse.
    A monster descended on the courtyard, a huge beast with wings. It was a mottled gray-green, like lichens on a rock. Atira caught a brief glimpse of cruel eyes before the head arched down and focused on its prey. Two claws sunk into Atira’s horse’s back as the monster’s huge wings beat the air, raising a cloud of dust and debris.
    The horse collapsed under the weight of the beast. It thrashed, struggling against the claws. Heath’s horse bolted away, headed for the gates.
    “Back,” Heath commanded, pulling his sword.
    Keir was in front of the castle doors, his curved swords gleamed in his hands. He kept a wary eye on the creature as Lara and Amyu vanished into the castle behind him, the babies in their arms, seeking safety as their guards covered their retreat. Anna was not far behind, Meara in her arms, dragging Aurora by the hand.
    Iain stood transfixed, staring at the monstrous creature. “It’s a wyvern,” he breathed. “From the ancient times. Before—”
    Atira grabbed him with her good hand and yanked him to get him moving toward the doors. Iain stumbled as she pulled him back, looking back over his shoulder. “The tail,” he called out as she almost threw him into the arms of the guards. “Look out for the tail!”
    The wyvern ignored everything but its prey. It sank its jaws into the horse’s neck as the courtyard cleared. The poor horse was pinned under its weight, but still fighting. Atira turned back to see that Iain was right. She watched in horror as the wyvern brought its tail up and over its head. The tip gleamed wetly in the light.
    The creature hissed and plunged its stinger into the horse’s neck.
    One of the guards charged forward at that moment, sword and shield at the ready. He ran straight up to the monster and slashed at the wyvern’s neck. But the wyvern reared back in surprise and snarled. Its tail lashed out again and hit the man on the shoulder, piercing his armor. He screamed and collapsed, writhing on the ground.
    “Crossbows,” Heath shouted. “Detros!”
    “Crossbows, load and fire,” Detros’s voice bellowed out over the courtyard.
    A guard near them dropped his shield to load his weapon. Atira freed her injured arm and grabbed for it, following Heath.
    The wyvern hissed at the guards and warriors surrounding it as the horse struggled in its claws. It flapped its leathery wings, buffeting everyone with air and raising another cloud of dust and grit.
    Atira secured her shield and stood just behind Heath, warding them both, keeping a wary eye on the tail. The courtyard had cleared quickly; only the palace guards and others Plains warriors remained.
    “Fire,” Heath ordered.
    The air filled with bolts and arrows speeding toward the wyvern. But its leathery hide was tougher than that, and Atira watched as the arrows failed to penetrate. Some bolts stuck in the hide, but there was little damage. More just bounced off and clattered to the stones below. It would take more than—
    “Lances,” Heath shouted, seeing what she saw and reacting that much more quickly.
    Lances weren’t something a warrior carried. Atira saw other warriors run for the gardens, but that wouldn’t be quick enough. There was a quiver of lances on the saddle of her dying horse.
    Atira darted forward, shield high.

    HEATH’S HEART STOPPED AS ATIRA DARTED IN BENEATH the beast, holding just a large