“Jaax!!!” she screamed.
The high commander cursed and whirled back around to face his soldiers.
“Take cover! Do not lose the girl!” he snarled.
Black and red clad mercenaries scattered like rats, and soon, the bridge was a flurry of chaos and shouting. Keiron stepped away from the ledge and dropped Dervit in the snow.
“Dervit!” Jahrra cried out. “Get to Ellyesce and the others! Now!”
He glanced up, his brown eyes wide and full of fear. Instead of listening to her, however, he bolted forward and leapt at Phrym, grabbing hold of the stirrup and climbing into the saddle. He scrambled across the semequin’s back and managed to get hold of the reins, which had been dropped by the panicked soldiers.
Jahrra was about to yell at him to flee once again when another roar split the sky, quickly followed by a blast of heat. The men dragging Jahrra by the collar let her go, screaming in agony. She fell face first into the snow. Taking advantage of her opportunity, Jahrra rolled over and crawled as fast as she could toward Phrym. Curse her sprained knee! If not for her injury, she’d be in the saddle by now. Amidst the screaming and shouting, she managed to catch sight of Dervit and Phrym, only a dozen yards away. Her limbit friend was trying desperately to get the semequin to move in Jahrra’s direction, but Phrym was busy fighting off the collection of soldiers attempting to subdue him. Jahrra ground her teeth together and drew on a renewed spurt of energy. She might have to crawl, but she’d put everything she had into it.
A blast of cool wind and a great shadow had her melting in relief. Jaax was mere feet from landing on the bridge. Screams and shouts of panicked terror rang out above her, along with the clash of metal and the twang of bowstrings. But, she knew this small contingency of soldiers was no match for three dragons. Soon, their enemy would either be crushed between dragons’ teeth, burned to a crisp or swept over the edge of the bridge.
Jahrra’s respite was short lived, however, when someone grabbed her hair, yanking her up into a half standing position. Jahrra gasped and reached up to free herself, but it was too late. A strong arm clasped her tightly around the middle, and a cool blade caressed her neck.
“Stop, or I’ll slit her throat!” Keiron snarled.
Jaax, the epitome of unchecked violence, grew still as he brought his entire weight down onto the bridge. His emerald eyes blazed with barely contained rage, and smoke seeped through his clenched teeth.
Jahrra knew, without a doubt, that the only thing keeping Keiron from dying a fiery death was his dagger pressed to her throat.
The Red Flange’s commander, whom Jahrra had lost track of in the skirmish, barked out, “Get the chains and secure the dragon.”
His men were wary at first, but their leader jerked his head to the side, and they reluctantly complied. They ran to their quahna, secured behind the fort, and came back quickly with heavy chains. They crept toward Jaax, unease clear in their jerky movements.
The Tanaan dragon remained motionless during the entire interlude, his intense gaze locked with Jahrra’s. She felt the blade at her throat rasp against her skin, and she gasped. Keiron was making sure her guardian stayed exactly where he was. Jahrra cast Jaax another careful look, searching for any injuries he might have sustained in Cahrdyarein or during the short battle on the bridge. She had been so worried about him, worried that the enemy could somehow overcome him despite the fact he had scales like iron and breathed fire. And here he was, standing like a tame dog and willingly submitting to this entrapment. The mere idea made her shudder with rage. How dare they do this to him?
More quickly than she thought possible, the soldiers had the chains wrapped a few times around Jaax’s neck and behind his shoulders. They were moving to drive spikes into the ground to secure the ends when the Tanaan dragon twitched. The mercenaries scrambled out of the way, diving to the ground and covering their heads as if awaiting a rain of fire.
“I’m warning you, dragon! Hold your ground!” Keiron barked, pressing the cold steel even closer to Jahrra’s skin. A sting elicited a gasp of pain and a warm, tickling sensation running down her neck told her he had nicked her skin. “You might incinerate me, but not before I cut her throat and push her over the edge!”
He dragged her farther along the barrier, stopping in front of another section of the railing that had crumbled away long ago. Jahrra gasped as Keiron shifted his hold on her so that his arm was the only thing keeping her from plunging to her death. Blinking back the sting of the biting wind, Jahrra peered down at the drop below her. She whimpered, unable to help herself. The chasm plunged downward for miles, it seemed. A white tendril thinner than a strand of thread, almost beyond the range of her vision, marked the river that cut through the bottom of the great canyon. Her good leg shifted, the toe of her boot knocking snow free of the stone road, sending out a plume of white powder that disappeared on a breath of wind.
On the opposite side of the bridge, Jaax instantly stilled, the loose chains dangling from his neck like the ends of a broken pendant. Jahrra could feel the tension in the air, could almost taste its pungent bitterness. She knew the odds for their escape weren’t very good, even with the other two dragons perched on outcroppings far above the bridge, waiting for the barest of openings to act. She wished she could turn her head so she might check if her other friends were unharmed, but it wasn’t worth risking Keiron’s wrath. The knife had already cut her once, and he still held it pressed firmly to her throat.
Keiron chuckled lightly and breathed into Jahrra’s ear, “Sorry about this, Jahrra, dearest. As pretty as you are, your value is far greater to the Crimson King. And, I worked too hard to win you over to give up now. It’s a shame we couldn’t have enjoyed a little time alone at the Round.”
He pressed his lips to the corner of her jaw, just below her ear, in a mock kiss. Disgust, as well as the heat of anger, shame and, if she was being entirely honest with herself, desire, swelled within her. She had wanted this with Keiron, this closeness, his affection, but that had been before she knew of his deceit. But, she could not afford to think of any of that now. She must cast her emotions aside and do what she must to survive.
Jahrra searched her brain for a clever method of escape. Surely, there had to be some way to get out of this mess, but what? She couldn’t take Keiron down. Had she been anywhere else, both her legs working at full capacity, she might have been able to distract him by shoving his knife out of the way long enough to gain the upper hand. But her knee would give out the moment she moved, and the only thing currently keeping her from plunging over the side of the bridge was the limit of Keiron’s temper.
Jahrra forced her spinning thoughts to slow, and her captor’s earlier words resurfaced in her mind. He had said if Jaax moved he would slit her throat and push her over the edge. In fact, the only thing keeping Jaax from moving at all, keeping him and his dragon companions from attacking the enemy, was her precarious position caught between Keiron’s dagger and the yawning chasm below. If the regent’s son simply pushed her over the edge, one of the dragons could catch her. There would be plenty of time before she hit the bottom. That was why he still held the knife against her neck. But, what if she shoved him? He wouldn’t be expecting it, and she was currently in the perfect position to use her arms and good leg to kick out. Only problem was, she would then fall backward through the gap, and he would sprawl onto the bridge. However, if she timed everything just right, the knife at her throat would be thrown wide. Instead of dying from a cut throat, she would be plunging to her death.