Half of the moon was now visible above the horizon, an ominous warning that time was not his ally. He slowly folded his wings and pulled farther into the shrub, knowing that Viktor’s keen eyes would detect the slightest movement. He weighed his options. Outrunning a healthy vulture wasn’t one of them.

The tiny belt that cinched over his breast feathers pulled against him and gave him an idea. Probably a bad one, but it was the only one he could think of. And he had to get the full details of Dai She’s plan to Coralis—or die trying.

He turned his head and stretched to retrieve a wand from his back. He then hopped into the open and flapped his wings, hoping to look like a bird in distress … which was not far from the actual truth.

Within seconds, Viktor had taken the bait. He soared down with the speed of a dive bomber, misjudging his landing and tumbling to an ungraceful stop several feet from Randall. The two birds eyed each other warily. Viktor approached, his beady eyes watching distrustfully.

This was not a carcass, but soon would be. And nothing tasted better than a fresh kill. Just the thought of warm innards sliding down his gullet made him oozy with delight.

The falcon was holding a small stick that it waved from side to side. A feeble weapon. Viktor squawked, the equivalent of a vulture laugh, and hopped closer. The falcon continued to wave the stick in a slow circular motion.

Viktor watched … and watched. He couldn’t take his eyes off the stick. He was still hungry, but it no longer mattered. The stick mattered. The stick that now moved even slower. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Viktor’s head ticked from side to side, following the rhythm of the stick. When the stick stopped moving, so did Viktor. He was frozen in place. His brain was empty.

Then a thought entered his mind—a suggestion that sounded like the best idea he’d ever had. With one final hop, he covered the remaining distance to the falcon and landed squarely on its back. He firmly gripped the wand harness and flapped his mighty wings, taking off with as little grace as he’d displayed when he had landed.

Randall moaned softly as sharp talons raked his skin, but he kept his concentration as the vulture struggled to lift off. When they were finally high enough, Randall directed his new set of wings northward.

To where he knew Coralis was waiting.

After Malachai’s grinning visage had faded, the desert erupted in a blur of activity. Coralis and Joseph easily mounted their own stallions. Serena grabbed Midnight’s flowing mane and lithely hopped onto his bare back. She reached a hand down to Henry. “We must hurry.”

The reality of what he was about to do suddenly registered. “Without a saddle?”

She smiled reassuringly. “Trust me.”