CHAPTER 108

Morath’s soldiers clawed and crawled over
the fallen wyvern blocking their path. They
filled the archway, the passage.
A golden shield held them at bay. But not
for long.
Yet the reprieve Gavriel bought them
allowed the Bane to drain the last dregs of
their waterskins, to pluck up fallen weapons.
Aedion panted, an arm braced against the
gate passageway. Behind Gavriel’s shield, the
enemy teemed and raged.
“Are you hurt?” his father asked. His first
words to him.