Page 561 - Fourth Wing

taking us into the village. A few beats of his wings later, fire streams from

his mouth, and he incinerates the clock tower on a flyby.
“Got him!” I turn in the saddle, watching as the wooden structure

collapses in the blast. It’s only a matter of seconds before the venin walks

out of the flames, though, and there isn’t a scratch on him. “Oh, fuck. He’s
still there,” I call out as we cut back across the post to get to our assigned

area, mentally kicking myself for thinking it could have been that simple.

There’s a reason these creatures are what make up most Navarrians’
nightmare stories—and it isn’t because they’re easy to kill. We have to get

close enough to get a dagger in him.

I turn forward just in time to see a giant mass of wings and teeth cut
across our path with an earsplitting screech, and Tairn’s tail smashes into

the stone walls behind me, knocking the masonry loose as he dodges the
wyvern. We just barely evade the hissing curl of blue fire that streams from

its mouth, catching a nearby tree on fire.

“The wyvern is back!”
“That’s a different one,” Tairn barks. “I’m relaying orders to the others.”

Of course he is. Xaden might command the riders on this field, but Tairn
is clearly leading the dragons.

The wyvern swings around and heads toward the town’s center, tucking

up two legs and beating spiderwebbed wings. It bears a female rider in
maroon flight gear that resembles our own, and her eyes are the same eerie

red color as the venin on the clock tower.

“Xaden, there’s more than one wyvern.”
There’s a moment of silence, but I can feel Xaden’s palpable shock, then

rage. “If you get separated from Tairn, call out, then fight until I get there.”

“No chance of that happening. I’m not letting her off my back,
wingleader,” Tairn growls as I get my first good look at the airspace above

the city, flooded with dragons, gryphons, and wyvern, just like in the
creation fable.