Free Firedragon Rising by Mary Fan Page A

shooting
from of the razorbirds’ wings. From the sound of the voice, Aurelia
could tell it was a man. And from the brilliant red color of his
hair, she knew at once that he wasn’t Storm. He also didn’t wear
the gold cloak of the Sentinels. It didn’t rule out the possibility
that he was with the Triumvirate, but it did make it less
likely.
    Whoever he was, he didn’t have much time
left. The razorbirds were swooping toward him, apparently too busy
closing in on their quarry to notice her approach. Though she was
still some distance away, she was close enough to be within range.
Still running, she raised her bow and slapped one arrow against its
side, then aimed at the razorbird closest to the man and fired.
Without waiting to see if she’d hit her target—and she was certain
she had—she fired again, and then again, and then again. Four
arrows, four shots, four dead razorbirds.
    That got their attention. The remaining
creatures from the flock veered toward her, firing several black
blades from their wings. A whirl of alarm spun through her as she
ducked up against a tree. She only had two arrows left in her hand,
and there were four monsters coming at her.
    No
problem , she thought, a plan forming in
her head.
    She waited a few seconds
for the razorbirds to get a little closer—and lower. They were
swooping down toward her, probably hoping to impale her with their
blade-like feathers, then peck at her to finish her off. She
pressed back into the dry bark as more blades flew at her, whizzing
past her ears and slamming into the ground. Then, when the birds
were close enough, she leaped out from the shelter of the tree and
fired both remaining arrows in quick succession. They hit their
targets with double thwacks , and the razorbirds shrieked
as the missiles impaled them both against the trunk of a
tree.
    Catching movement in the corner of her eye,
she dodged as blades rained down from the two remaining razorbirds,
twisting and sidestepping to avoid the sudden barrage. She trusted
her instincts and moved automatically to their commands. The
creatures passed overhead, and she took the opening to race toward
the tree in which the arrows were embedded.
    She yanked one out, then spun, firing as the
razorbirds veered back around, coming for her. One fell, its cry
grating against her ears, and the other—the last—whipped one black
wing in her direction. She jumped behind the tree for shelter, then
reached around it and grabbed the other arrow from the trunk.
Before the razorbird could strike again, she shot it through the
middle.
    It landed with a
dull thud , and,
without the beating of wings or the noise of screeches, the forest
suddenly seemed very quiet.
    The tension in her chest loosened, and she
regarded her handiwork, satisfied. Though she had no way of
checking a clock, she would have bet her new swords on the fact
that less than a minute had passed between the moment she’d spotted
the flock and the moment she’d defeated its last member.
    Now she turned her
attention to the red-haired Enchanter. He stood several yards away,
as still as the trees, and she could tell even from the distance
that he was gaping. She smirked, strangely flattered by the idea
that she’d impressed someone enough to effectively paralyze
him. Yeah, I’m that awesome.
    Then she strode toward him, stopping briefly
along the way to yank an arrow out of a fallen razorbird. The man
didn’t look like a threat, with his skinny build and narrow face.
In fact, now that she was closer, she realized that he wasn’t much
older than her, and had a bookish look about him, as if he’d been
born to sit in libraries pondering the meaning of life. But after
what had happened with Tydeus Storm, she wasn’t taking any
chances.
    She aimed the arrow at him. “Drop the wand,
loser.”
    The young man blinked, a startled look
filling his eyes. “Firedragon, I’m not—”
    “ I said drop the wand.”
She didn’t waver, even though she was somewhat