Chapter 17: Returned Favor

 Chapter 17: Returned Favor

Ariel’s lungs burned from running, each jagged breath barely keeping pace with her thundering heart. The night sky pressed down on her and Noah, smothering what little moonlight could guide them across the rocky ground. Cold sweat dripped down her neck as they stumbled over loose stones. Beyond the reach of Zed’s faintly glowing horn, towering shapes of boulders loomed like silent sentinels, threatening to trip them at every turn.

But it was the torches in the distance—flickering ominously closer—that truly put terror in her gut. Behind them, a cacophony of angry shouts echoed across the raw, open landscape. Arrows hissed through the air, some clattering against stone, others burying themselves in the dirt with dull thuds. One whistled past Ariel’s ear, making her yelp in alarm.

“Noah!” she screamed. “They’re getting closer—we can’t outrun them!”

“No kidding!” he panted, darting behind a jagged outcrop. His voice shook with exertion. “But I’m not sure they’re up for talking, not with all those arrows flying.”

At his side, Zed’s tiny hooves slipped on loose gravel, sending him skidding forward. The young unicorn let out a startled whinny, and for a heartbeat, it looked like he might tumble over an embankment. Ariel snatched his mane and tugged him upright, terror flickering in her eyes.

“Zed,” she gasped, “light up—now. We need to see!”

Zed’s horn flared with that pale, reassuring glow. It lanced through the darkness, illuminating the jagged ground, but also revealing their position to the men behind them. Some shouts rose, accompanied by the hiss of more arrows. Illuminated by torchlight, the pursuers’ shadows stretched across the rocks, drawing ever nearer.

Neo, Silverwing, and the youngest wyvern bounded alongside the children, wings half-spread in agitation. Their low growls and flaring nostrils signaled that they, too, felt cornered. Yet they were forced to hold back their full speed for the sake of Noah, Ariel, and Zed. Every time Silverwing tried to surge ahead, the humans fell behind, tethering the group’s pace.

Ariel sensed the truth in the pit of her stomach—they wouldn’t be able to keep this up. Each stride sent her ankles rolling over uneven stone, each frantic breath dragged raw air into her lungs. Another arrow zipped by, striking a boulder in front of them with a metallic ping.

“This is useless!” she cried. “Noah, we have to do something!”

In a moment of clarity, Noah gestured for the group to slow. “We can’t get away—not all of us. The wyverns can outrun them if they’re not slowed by us.”

“No,” Ariel protested, but Noah locked eyes with her, desperation etched into his features.

She swallowed, thinking of their parents and how they might never see them again if they were captured. Yet she also couldn’t bear to see the young wyverns fall into Fig’s hands again. She gritted her teeth. “We… we stop. We let the wyverns go on alone.”

She turned to Neo, Silverwing, and the younger sibling. Their eyes glowed with confusion and alarm, bright slits reflecting the swirl of torchlight. Arrows hissed closer, finding purchase in the stony ground around them. Neo roared, shielding his wounded flank as best he could. Zed’s horn glimmered, bobbing anxiously with each breath.

“Go!” Ariel urged, tears blurring her vision. Her voice cracked as she pushed the wyverns away, physically shoving at Silverwing’s scaled shoulder. “You have to leave—get back to Drakeclaw Vale. We’ll hold them off, or distract them… or something.”

Silverwing snarled at an approaching arrow, batting it aside with a snap of his jaws. The youngest wyvern let out a pitiful whine, stepping back uncertainly. Neo seemed torn, shifting weight off his injured flank. They didn’t want to leave.

“Go!” Ariel screamed again, tears streaking her cheeks. “Please go. Save yourselves!”

Noah nodded grimly. “Just let them go!” he shouted into the darkness, half to the wyverns, half to the pursuers. “We’ll give ourselves up. Just let them live!”

Flames danced at the edges of the men’s torches as the first of them rounded the outcrop. Shadows leapt across the ragged stone. Another arrow soared, but this time Zed’s horn flared with a brilliant intensity—a translucent shield rippled into existence, blocking the arrow midair with a dull thunk. The projectile clattered to the ground, harmlessly spent.

“Stop shooting!” Noah yelled, voice raw. He stepped forward, raising his empty hands. The men kept advancing, forming a half-circle that hemmed the siblings in against a steep cliff. The wind whipped across the plateau, carrying the heated shouts of the hunters.

Seeing Zed’s protective magic, the wyverns took their chance. With reluctant roars and flicking tails, they slunk away, vanishing into the darkness. Their silhouettes melted into the rocky plain, heading for the path leading deeper into Drakeclaw Vale. Ariel’s stomach twisted as she watched them disappear—these creatures she’d grown to care for so deeply. She’d parted without a proper goodbye, unsure if she’d ever see them again.

She wiped her tear-streaked cheeks and turned to face the men. Torches cast flickering shadows across the group’s grim, dirt-streaked faces. They were armed with bows, swords, crude spears—any weapon that could maim or kill. One of the leaders, a tall man with a coarse beard, stepped forward, torchlight dancing in his eyes.

“Why shouldn’t we kill you?” he demanded, spitting the words like a challenge. “You’ve caused us enough trouble, you and your wyvern friends.”

Zed’s shimmering barrier still hung in the air, dividing the children from the men. Noah clenched his fists, glaring. “We gave up. We said we’d surrender if you let the wyverns go. You have us—just like you have our parents.”

A grumble spread through the group. Some lowered their bows, noticing how young the captives were—barely more than children. Others narrowed their eyes in suspicion, itching for a fight. The tension was thick enough to taste, scorching in the torchlight.

Ariel’s voice cracked. “Zed… put it away,” she instructed. The unicorn glanced back at her, ears flicking in alarm, not wanting to relinquish the protective shield. But Ariel gave a resolute nod. “Trust me.”

Reluctantly, Zed dimmed his horn’s glow. The shimmering barrier wavered, then blinked out, leaving them vulnerable to the half-circle of men. The siblings backed against the stony wall of the cliff, heartbeats thudding in their ears. Torchlight licked at the gloom, casting monstrous shapes that loomed overhead.

One man raised a crossbow. “We only need a few to chase the beasts,” he spat, gesturing to the empty horizon. “Send half the men to find the wyverns. The rest’ll handle these brats.”

“You heard him!” snarled their bearded leader. “Divide up. They can’t have gotten far. If they reach Drakeclaw, we lose them forever.”

Several men peeled off, torches bobbing, voices carrying on the wind as they hurried into the darkness after the wyverns. The remaining men edged closer, weapons still at the ready. Ariel squeezed Noah’s arm, and Zed pressed his body firmly against her legs, trembling. She could smell sweat and fear in the air, both from the men and from the boy at her side.

A sudden gale blew across the plateau. It came not from the side, but somehow from above—like a downward gust, pressing them all toward the ground. Confused shouts broke out among the men. Ariel felt the wind intensify, kicking up dust and pebbles into her face.

Then came a roar—no, a roar that dwarfed any sound she’d ever known. It shattered the night like thunder, echoing off the cliffs. In a sudden, earth-shaking impact, three massive shapes slammed onto the rock. The force of their landing was so great that everyone—Ariel, Noah, the men—was thrown off balance, some toppling onto their backs.

Ariel’s ears rang. She struggled to her knees, eyes going wide in awe and terror. Towering before her stood three adult wyverns, each gargantuan beyond her wildest imagination. Their scales shimmered like polished obsidian, ridged horns crowning their heads. When they spread their wings, the night sky was momentarily eclipsed, and the downdraft made torches flicker wildly.

Rocks began to tumble from the cliffside, set loose by the vibrations of the landing. Men scrambled for footing, shouts turning to panicked cries. Two of the colossal wyverns—one a deep onyx hue, the other tinged with copper flecks—sent arcs of flame shooting across the tree line below the cliff, lighting the night as though day had broken for a heartbeat. A wave of blistering heat washed over Ariel. She clung to Noah, both shielding Zed between them.

In that sudden blaze, the men’s courage evaporated. Some dropped their weapons, sprinting back toward Ember Hollows, their shouts choking with terror. A few tried to shoot arrows, but the monstrous creatures roared again, drowning out any coherent command. The copper-flecked wyvern whipped its tail, shattering a boulder into rubble, forcing another group of men to leap aside.

Debris rained down. One of the giant wyverns flared its wing—so large it blocked half the cliff—and curled it protectively around Ariel, Noah, and Zed, shielding them from the cascading stones. Ariel gawked at the sheer size of its talons, each one longer than she was tall. She had never felt so small, so dwarfed by raw power.

With a rumbling quake, the falling rubble ceased. The second massive wyvern dipped its head low to Ariel. A warm gust of breath tickled her cheeks, and a voice formed in her mind. I am Cinderalis… the mother of the younglings you have sheltered. Despite the thunderous volume of her roar moments ago, this mental tone was surprisingly gentle. My mate, Drakthorn, stands beside me.

The other wyvern—the one who had shielded them from the debris—lifted its wing, revealing a keen, protective gaze. He lowered his giant neck, exhaling a breath that made the air shimmer with heat. Ariel realized it was a snort of gratitude, and that it warmed the immediate area so thoroughly she could almost forget the cold night.

Noah blinked in astonishment, while Zed sniffed at Drakthorn’s looming claw. Even without hearing Cinderalis’ voice, Noah understood the protective stance, the thanks in the big beast’s eyes.

Sensing the siblings’ shock, Cinderalis lowered her massive head further. We owe you a debt beyond measure. You protected our children when no one else would.

Ariel’s heart pounded. She forced words from her trembling lips, half in speech, half in thought. “They deserved to live… free from the meddling of Emberites. I’m so sorry—on behalf of my people—for what happened to them.”

Drakthorn rumbled, a sound that hinted at old sorrow and newfound respect. We can guide you to safety. In our claws, no harm shall befall you.

“Umm… okay,” Ariel managed, glancing at Noah. “They… they say they’ll take us back home.” But before she could finish, Cinderalis gently scooped them—Ariel, Noah, and Zed—into her massive talons as if they weighed no more than leaves.

“Whoa!” Noah gasped, arms flailing for balance. Zed let out a startled nicker, but Cinderalis held them securely. One powerful flap of her titanic wings lifted her from the ground, causing eddies of wind that knocked the remaining men off their feet. Drakthorn and the third giant wyvern ascended after her, their monstrous silhouettes etched against the starry sky.

Ariel glimpsed the plateau below shrinking away, the men scattering like ants, leaving scattered torches and abandoned weapons. She and Noah clutched at each other, hearts in their throats, while Zed pressed against their legs in wide-eyed amazement. The cold air rushed past them, but Cinderalis’ body heat and the cradle of her claws kept them from freezing.

They climbed higher, arcing through the night. Below them, the faint glow of Ember Hollows gave way to the endless darkness of the moors and, farther still, the meadow. Ariel felt tears prick at her eyes again, but this time they were tears of relief—and perhaps a touch of wonder. She never imagined she would be carried by an adult wyvern over the land she loved, safe from Fig’s men.

Home—whatever remained of it—awaited. And so, borne aloft by creatures once feared, the two siblings and their little unicorn soared toward the ranch… and toward a destiny greater than they had dared to dream.