The Lost Alliance (Rise of the Drakens Book 2) by Raven Storm (best books for students to read .TXT) 📕

want to be seen by anyone in the area, so I crawled over the rocks and boulders, climbing my way to a high point. My claws were well-suited to this task, and I quickly made it to a small overlock. I gazed out over a large part of the plains at the base of the mountain, and immediately saw the smoke from a large fire. I kept low and glided in that direction. I landed about a mile away and creeped towards the camp.

Twenty or so humans milled about the camp, tending to the fire, cooking, or doing other tasks. One of the humans walked by and kicked another in the face. The unfortunate women cried out as she stumbled into the fire, scalding her feet. My burned hand winced in sympathy. The man who pushed her laughed, as did half the other humans. I sniffed the air, nearly gagging on the scent of burning flesh. Perhaps they weren’t all humans?

I watched further, noticing the graceful way half of the humans carried themselves compared to the servants. They were dressed differently as well, wearing leather armor, though they didn’t appear to carry any swords. Golden eyes flashed, and then I understood. lykos, but in their human form.

My eyes scanned the camp, drawn to the sound of hissing and yells. Astrid and Meruse were bound with iron collars and spikes, staked into the ground. Meruse kept up a long litany of verbal abuse towards anyone who went near her, which was fewer and fewer people the more she kept up. At least they were alive. There was no sign of the fire witches. A familiar roar rang out over the camp and I turned, finding Kieran and Benedict on the other side of the fire, across from the witches. My heart sank as I saw them. Kieran was passed out, limp on the ground. Benedict...he roared in defiance at the humans who surrounded him, an iron mask covering his face. Matching iron gauntlets covered his hands, attached to chains that were wrapped around two large oak trees. The lykos hurried around, adding more chains as he struggled to break free.

“Let’s see you try your little spells now,” one taunted, giving one of the chains a tug. Benedict whirled, nearly knocking him out as he was almost too slow to jump away.

“Drakens are fabled for their cowardice, killing themselves and as many others as they can with their suicide magick instead of fighting and dying like true warriors.”

My hands curled into fists, angry on behalf of my people. How was I to help any of them? There was no way I could take this many enemies on my own, and I knew Benedict would never save himself while the others were trapped.

I sank against a tree, breathing heavily. It was over; they would be taken to the Overlord and killed. How would I tell Ronan? How would I tell the other drakens? Merrow would have to be told, and—

Stop.

I pressed my head between my hands, refusing to let me thoughts get away from me. Panicking was the worst thing I could do and wouldn’t help get my friends back. Or my mates.

Ok. What couldn’t I do?

I couldn’t waltz into camp in my draken form; that would be suicide. These lykos clearly weren’t friendly towards drakens, and my fighting skills in human form weren’t good enough to take them.

A sickening crack cleaved the air, and I jerked as a female lykos shoved a male servant to the ground, laughing as his head bashed against a rock. He didn’t move, and two other servants hurriedly moved to carry him away. I did some quick math in my head: there were ten servants, and ten lykos. If I could get even a few of my friends free, this could be an even fight. It was likely most of the humans would run instead of fight.

Now, what could I do?

I was mediocre at most things, so I sat stumped. I watched the servants go about their tasks, fixing dinner and tending to the armor. I didn’t miss my days of being a slave, but I certainly knew my way around a household.

Wait.

I shifted to my human form, not giving myself time to be nervous. I looked around for a pit of mud, dirt, something, but didn’t see anything. The soft sound of a horse nickering caught my attention, and my eyes zeroed in on the small cluster of horses about fifty yards to my right. Behind them was a giant manure pile. I sighed, then squared my shoulders.

I stumbled into the camp covered head-to-toe in manure, stinking so badly that none of the other slaves or lykos came near me. The rotting feces covered the shimmer of my skin as well as my draken scent.

“YOU!”

I froze, my entire body rooted to the spot as twenty years’ worth of instincts came flooding back in a moment, hunching my back and lowering my eyes to the ground. I could already feel Crullfed’s cane kissing my flesh, his boot in my gut, and—

“You stink enough to wake the half-dead draken!”

He laughed at his own joke, and I marked the scar that sliced through his left eye, turning it silver instead of gold. My eyes shot back to the ground, nodding in obedience. I was horrified at how easy it was to slip back into the role, as if I had never left. Perhaps I hadn’t.

“What are you waiting for? Get!”

I flew forward, just barely avoiding his kick. Get a hold of yourself; you are NOT a slave any longer. I took a deep breath and scurried towards the outer edges of the camp. I grabbed two large bowls, doubling back towards the large barrel of water. The servant manning it wrinkled his nose but didn’t question me as I held out the bowls. I took a long loop around the camp, pausing long enough to set the water bowls inside of Meruse and Astrid’s cage. Their sharp eyes