With a quick intake of breath, Aidan unleashed his flame. But when the fire had settled down, the men still stood. Alive and well and not turned to ash.

The one in front—he was only missing one eye—raised his hands into the air and looked up at the sky. “Thank you, mighty Chramnesind!”

He laughed hysterically. “You cannot harm us, dragons! Our god has given us His protection. Your fire means nothing to us!”

The land shook and trees swayed as a battered, limping Uther pushed his way into the clearing. He cradled a damaged forearm within his opposite claw and his poor leg dragged uselessly behind him. One side of his face and snout were bloody and his left eye was swollen shut. But he was alive.

“Another!” the Zealot cheered. “It does not matter! Even now our legion is near, marching toward this clearing. They will destroy all of you and your weak flame will not harm us! For we are the mighty, fighting for the one, true—”

The Zealot’s rant ended when Aidan slammed his black claw down on the group of scouts. His flame might not be effective, but he was still a dragon.

The few who weren’t instantly crushed by Aidan’s claw tried to make a run for it, but Brannie swiped at them, sending them flying into nearby trees. Their backs and heads breaking against hard trunks.

“Humans,” Aidan muttered in disgust while scraping the blood and gore from the bottom of his foot.

“They were right, though,” Uther said. “There are at least two legions minutes away and they’ve got siege weapons.”

Siege weapons that could take down dragons with ease.

“It looks like we’ll die on the field of battle this day after all, my friends,” Uther announced with great pride.

Brannie, in no mood for such ridiculous sentiment, glanced at Aidan so that he could clearly see her eyes before she focused on finding trapped Caswyn, still buried under the mountainous rubble.

* * *

Understanding that look on Brannie’s face, Aidan quickly picked up the remains of the fallen Zealots and tossed them in a direction away from the legions heading their way. Then he moved to deal with Uther, knowing Brannie would have no patience for Uther’s need to “die with honor.”

“No, Uther,” Aidan said, keeping his voice stern. “We will not be dying this day.”

“We have no choice.” Uther pointed. “They’re right there. Cutting through the tree line. They’ll be here in—”

“Get it out of your head, idiot. We didn’t survive all this so we could die five minutes later at the hands of Zealots. So get your shit together and shift to human!”

“But—”

“Now! Or I swear by all that’s unholy—”

“Got him!” Brannie cheered, and Aidan rushed to her side.

He crouched and saw the top of Caswyn’s head. They dug their claws deep into the dirt and, together, dragged his unconscious—but breathing!—friend from what had almost become his untimely crypt.

Once they had him free, they laid him out and Aidan lightly slapped both sides of his face, attempting to wake Caswyn.