Page 584 - Fourth Wing

incinerating me from the inside out.

“She’s dead,” I manage to tell them, throwing the word out toward Tairn,
Xaden, Andarna, Sgaeyl…whoever might be listening.

The shadows fall away, letting in the fading light of dusk as I stumble

toward the saddle, holding my side to stanch the flow of blood from the stab
wound.

“You’re hurt,” Tairn accuses.

“I’m fine,” I lie, staring with wide eyes as dark-black blood sludges
through my fingers. Not good. So not good.

I won’t be able to fight another in hand-to-hand, not with the wound in

my side, and soon I’ll be too weak to wield. The strength is flowing out of
me with my blood. I sheathe the dagger. My best weapon now is my mind.

Taking a deep breath, I fight to steady my heartbeat and think.
“They’re falling,” Tairn says, and I jerk my gaze from my side to see

three wyvern tumble from the sky and crash to the earth.

Riderless wyvern.
Created by venin.

And they all died because I killed one venin.
That’s what Liam was trying to tell me. When a dragon dies, so does its

rider. But apparently when a venin dies, so do the wyvern they created. All

of them. That’s how we can save everyone on this battlefield.
There are two riders among the horde Xaden is holding back.

“We have to take out the riders,” I whisper.

“Yes,” Tairn agrees, following my thoughts. “Excellent idea.”
“You’re willing to gamble your life on it?” If I’m wrong, we’re both

dead, and so are Xaden and Sgaeyl.

“I will bet my life on you as I have from the first day,” he says, banking
to fly back to the valley as the other dragons rush with their riders to follow

us, no doubt following Tairn’s command. Only Garrick and his Brown
Scorpiontail are ahead of us, flying low and fast toward Xaden. “Three of