“What? I don’t know who you think you are—”
Somehow, even as dragons chased after us on a snowy mountaintop far from home, even as we were most certainly running toward our inevitable doom, I managed to grin rakishly at Randall. “I’m Sam of Wilds.”
And then I curled my arm across my chest before swinging it out in a flat arc, thumb pushing down the lever before I hurled the device as hard as I could.
The sand sailboard snapped open, the wooden slats locking together, the board hitting the ground as the sail itself climbed the thin pole that rose up. It slid forward right up to the edge of the cliff and began to tip, and no, no, no, we weren’t close enough, it was going to go over without us and we would be trapped. I thought green and gold (not specifically but abstractly, like the idea of what they could be), and even though the ancient words weren’t there, the intent of them was, and a rock broke through the surface of the snow on the edge of the cliff, hit the bottom of the board, and knocked it back away from the cliff.
“Oh hell,” I heard Randall pant next to me. “You can’t be serious about this!”
I winked at him, even though my skin was clammy and I felt like vomiting. Undoubtedly, this was probably going to be the stupidest thing I’d ever done, and if we survived, Randall was most likely going to kill me.
But then I felt the heat of the dragons behind me, and I knew we had no other choice.
Besides. If the gods were certain I would be the one to face Myrin in some ridiculous final showdown with monologuing, sass, and probably a lot of my clothes billowing awesomely, then they would make sure I survived.
Right before we reached the sand sailboard, I shot a glance back over my shoulder and—
They were right there, maws open, fangs glistening, an orange glow bursting from the backs of their throats—
It happened like this:
I grabbed Randall’s hand.
I jumped the remaining distance.
My feet hit the board, a jarring impact that caused me to overcorrect.
I felt it slipping out from under me and—
Randall landed behind me, knocking me forward with the momentum of the sand sailboard.
A sharp wind hit the sail, causing it to bow outward as it filled, the ends flapping.
The front end of the board slid over the edge of the cliff.
There was a moment, a singular, breathtaking moment, when the board tilted forward, then backward, then forward, and I couldn’t even see the bottom of the mountain, given that it was hidden in the clouds. All I saw was the steep decline, dotted with trees and rocks and snow, snow, snow.
Randall breathed in my ear, “Just so you know, I hate you so much for what’s about to happen.”
My throat was dry, my eyes were bulging from my head, and I said, “Yeah, I pretty much hate myself right about now. No worries.”
The dragons reached for us and—
We tipped over the edge of the cliff.
Randall slammed into my back, pressing me against the mast as we began to descend, the board sliding over the top of the snow. The wind roared around us as we picked up a preposterous amount of speed. I might have screamed.
No. Check that.
I screamed.
The board bounced roughly underneath our feet, vibrating up through our legs. It jarred my injured shoulder, but I ignored the pain.
“They’re coming!” Randall shouted in my ear.
I looked up behind us in time to see both dragons crest the edge of the cliff, suspended briefly in air before they folded their wings at their sides and began to plummet toward us, smoke trailing from their nostrils.
WIZARD