Laira stared at the horizon. "Perhaps we don't have to." She took a deep breath. "Let Raem know. Let him come here. Two Skull Mountain is near; it will be our battlefield." She caressed her sword again, then tugged Neiva back toward the north. "Fly north, Goldtusk! Keep flying to the mountain."

Leaving the demon scout, they turned. They flew back north, crossing hills and valleys as distant demon shrieks rolled behind them.

Finally, the sun dipping into evening, they saw the mountain ahead.

"Two Skull Mountain," Laira said softly, spine tingling.

She had seen the place once, years ago, from a distance; Zerra had dared not fly closer, for here was the territory of Leatherwing. Two Skull Mountain had chilled her then and it chilled her now. The origin of its name was clear to all who saw it. Caves yawned open upon its crest, forming the rough shapes of eye sockets, nostrils, and mouths like two skulls fused together, melted into each other like conjoined twins joined at the face. The skulls seemed anguished to Laira, screaming silently, begging for a respite from pain. Laira leaned forward in her saddle, narrowed her eyes, and scrutinized the mountain, but she could see no sign of the Leatherwing tribe or its fabled beasts, the pteros. Laira clenched her jaw, remembering the old tales she had heard of this place—tales of flying reptiles tearing into flesh, of hunters who drank blood from human skulls, and of slaves who languished in chains, their limbs food for the tribe.

She tightened her lips. Zerra feared the escarpment too, but I found my dearest friends there. She looked at the dragons who flew to her left. I found Requiem, the anchor of my soul, the light of my heart, the land I will sacrifice everything for.

She looked behind her at the tribe. Seventy rocs flew there, larger than dragons, dripping the oil they secreted. They stank of old meat, and their yellow eyes always seemed so baleful, and for many years Laira had feared these beasts. For many years they had hunted dragons, slaying many. Yet now this tribe—once her prison, then her enemy, and finally her army—might save the world.

They flew closer, Goldtusk and Requiem, rocs and dragons, until they glided above the foothills. Two Skull Mountain loomed ahead, dwarfing them. Each of the eye sockets, great caverns in the stone, was large enough to house them all. And still Laira did not see Leatherwing. The place seemed too silent; she heard only the squawks of rocs and the thuds of dragon wings. No enemy tribe. No leathery beasts. Had Leatherwing abandoned this place?

Worry gnawed at her, and she was about to call for her rocs to land, to camp upon the mountainside.

Before she could speak, they emerged.

Screams shattered the air. The mountain shook. With battle cries, firing arrows, and the shadows of great wings, Leatherwing Tribe appeared.