He beat his wings, reached Maev, and tapped her with his wing. "They might not have seen us," he whispered. "Swallow your fire. We descend. We land in the forest and hide."

But Maev—damn warthog of a sister!—howled in rage. Instead of swallowing her fire, she blasted out a great pillar.

"Uncle!" she roared, eyes red, wings beating. "Uncle, come face me. I will burn you!"

The rocs shrieked. The hunters upon them shouted battle cries. Maev tried to fly toward them, to challenge them all, but Tanin grabbed her tail, holding her back.

"Maev, no! We can't fight them all."

Panting, her wings beating, she turned toward him in the sky. Her face was a mask of rage. "He killed Mother, Tanin." Smoke blasted out of her nostrils. "He's probably the one who poisoned Requiem. Now I kill him."

She wrenched free from his grasp and shot toward the hundred rocs. Her fire blazed across the sky. The rocs flew nearer, eyes bright yellow, their oily wings blazing white with every bolt of lightning.

Tanin cursed as he followed his sister. He sucked in air, filled his belly with crackling fire, and blasted out a flaming jet.

The stream spun, crackling, and crashed into a roc. The beast burst into flames, stinking and blasting out smoke, but still it flew toward him. The rider upon its back screamed, a living torch, skin peeling and flesh melting. Feathers tore free and glided through the sky, still burning. The flaming bird kept flapping its wings. It crashed into Tanin, biting and clawing.

Tanin screamed as the beak drove into his shoulder, chipping his scales. Claws slashed at his belly, tearing through skin. The fire engulfed him, so hot he closed his eyes for fear of them melting. Blindly, he clawed and bit. His teeth sank into flesh, and he was horrified to find that it tasted like delicious, savory fowl. He spat out a chunk, whipped his tail, and clubbed the beast. The flaming roc tumbled down like a comet, leaving a trail of fire.

"Maev!" Tanin shouted, mouth full of the animal's blood. His own blood dripped from his belly. "Get out of here!"

He spotted her fighting ahead, blowing fire in a ring around her. A dozen rocs surrounded her, daring not approach. Their riders shot arrows. Most shattered against her scales, but one drove into her back, and she bucked and roared.

"Hello, nephew and niece!" The cry rose above, high-pitched and raspy and thick with mirth, a banshee cry. "Fly to me. Fly to your favorite uncle."

Tanin looked up and growled.

Zerra.