“He’ll cross now,” Hadriel said. “In case you can’t read wolf. He has a connection with the other wolves. If he can keep his head, they will too. He’s confident he can handle it. But then, you all are, so…”
In other words, there was ego, bravado, and reality. We had yet to see how reality would shake out, but Hannon couldn’t run everyone back and forth. We had to trust the animals to make this journey.
“Okay. Go,” I barked, pulling power from my dragon, who in turn pulled it from Nyfain.
The dragons shed their clothes and handed them off to anyone willing to hold them. I thought it better not to mention that the clothes would probably end up fluttering into the lava.
As the wolves crossed, hair standing up on their backs and teeth bared, Tamara jogged as far to the side of the gathering as she could. She looked up at the rock ceiling curving upward into a dome. A push of magic slammed into my dragon, and she roiled, scratching to rise to the surface.
“No, no, you fucking idiot.” I clenched my teeth and bore down on her, struggling to keep her at bay. “We can’t change here for the first time. We’ll crush everyone, stumble, take out the bridge as we fall into the lava, and all will be lost. Get down.”
Tamara’s gray dragon rose into existence, smaller than Nyfain and able to hunch down a little so she didn’t hit the ceiling. The dragon looked down at the lava before scooting back toward us, giving her more wing room. In a breathless moment, she jumped out over the lava and only then pumped her wings quickly, blasting us with air.
The wolves made their way across the bridge, the wind from Tamara’s wings washing over them. One in the back hunched and turned, gnashing teeth at the air. It shivered, then shook, lowering its head and starting to whine.
Tamara rose a bit, but there wasn’t much room. Tilting her wings slightly, she shoved forward, aiming for the larger landing on the other side.
Weston, nearly to safety, ears flat against his head, turned back and let out a savage growl.
“He’s losing one of them,” Hadriel whispered, pushing forward so he could see.
The wolf at the end, still shaking, tucked its tail between its legs. It crowded the side of the bridge, chewing at a strand of rope blocking its way.
Weston’s growl intensified. The wolves behind him cowered, quickly flattening down to their bellies, but the last wolf edged farther toward the side, its body now against the ropes. It looked like it was fighting itself. Or maybe fighting Weston.
Lucille walked to the area Tamara had just vacated but didn’t shift, watching the frightened wolf.
Weston left his post and jogged down the side of the line of wolves, perilously close to the side. He reached the one at the end and cuffed it on the head hard enough to draw blood, his growl rumbling through his chest. It vibrated through my body, and I wasn’t even attuned to his animal. He grabbed the scruff of the last wolf’s neck and pulled, urging it to walk.
The wolf cowered down a little more. Its head lowered and its ears went out to the sides.
“He’s regaining control,” Hadriel whispered. “He must’ve been an alpha of a large pack. He’s damn good at his job. I wonder how the demons were able to capture him. He never said.”
Numbers, probably. Get one or a few wolves alone, and sacrifice as many demons as it took to bring them in. When you didn’t care about your people, you didn’t care how many perished to get you what you wanted.
Weston turned, a tricky business, and jogged back along the line, his feet inches away from the side. Back at the front, he slowed and gave a sort of yelp. The wolves behind him rose to standing, heads down as though they were shouldering a great weight, and started moving again, following their leader off the bridge.
As soon as the last had made it across, Lucille erupted into her dragon—a little smaller than Tamara, with glittering, wheat-colored scales. She pulled off the same maneuver, jumping off and catching herself with her wings, beating and tilting them to get to the other side.
Tamara, human again, cleared away, and Lucille hit the landing on the other side. She’d misjudged her fly-hop, however, and her dragon’s back foot slipped off. Her tail swooped down to adjust for balance, but the weight shift dragged her body toward the lava.
Micah pushed forward, looking over the edge. It was clear he wanted to help but didn’t know what to do.
I watched, breathless, as the dragon’s front feet scraped against the stone, her body sliding back. She shifted, down on hands and knees, one leg dangling over the side and her body about ready to pitch over after it.