Chapter 6: Forged in Fury

The sky over Ironreach was a shroud of gray, heavy with the promise of rain as Ashka descended toward a jagged plateau nestled between the mountains. Kara clung to the dragon's scales, her hands slick with sweat and blood, the cold wind biting at her exposed skin. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, the adrenaline of the fight still coursing through her veins, though exhaustion tugged at her limbs like a weight she couldn't shake. Talon sat behind her, his presence a solid anchor, his hands steady on the reins as he guided Ashka to a rough landing. The dragon's claws scraped against the rocky ground, her patched wing trembling as she folded it against her side, a low groan rumbling from her throat.

Kara slid off Ashka's back, her boots hitting the stone with a dull thud. The plateau was a sprawl of makeshift tents and flickering campfires, ringed by towering pines that cast long shadows in the fading light. The air smelled of woodsmoke and damp earth, a sharp contrast to the sulfur and blood that still clung to her senses from the battle. Rebels moved among the tents, their faces hardened by war, their eyes narrowing as they caught sight of Ashka and her riders. Kara felt their stares like pinpricks on her skin, but she straightened her spine, refusing to let them see the weariness threatening to buckle her knees.

Talon dismounted beside her, his gray eyes scanning the camp with a predator's focus. His scarred face was streaked with dirt and blood, his leather armor scuffed from the fight, yet he carried himself with a quiet authority that made the rebels pause. He glanced at Kara, his expression unreadable, then nodded toward a tent at the camp's center, its canvas stained with soot and patched with rough stitches. "This way," he said, his voice rough but steady. "We need to regroup, figure out our next move."

Kara's jaw tightened, her hand dropping to the smaller hammer at her belt, the one she'd used to fell a rider in the sky. She didn't trust this place, didn't trust these people, and she sure as hell didn't trust Talon. But Ashka's amber eyes met hers, glowing faintly in the dusk, and that heat in her chest pulsed with a quiet reassurance. The dragon nudged her with her snout, a gentle push that sent a ripple of warmth through Kara's bones, and she sighed, relenting. "Fine," she muttered, falling into step beside Talon. "But you owe me more than riddles this time."

The tent's interior was dim, lit by a single lantern hanging from a wooden pole, its flame casting flickering shadows across the walls. A rough table dominated the space, littered with maps and weapons, while a handful of rebels stood around it, their voices hushed as Talon entered. They straightened at his approach, their eyes flicking to Kara with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. She ignored them, her focus on Talon as he stopped at the table, his hands braced against its edge.

"We took down two of Veyl's riders," he said, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade. "The third ran, but he'll be back with more. We've bought time, not safety." He glanced at Kara, a flicker of something crossing his scarred face, respect perhaps, or grudging acknowledgment. "She made the difference up there. Fought like she was born for it."

Kara's stomach twisted, a mix of pride and unease at his words. She hadn't fought for him, hadn't fought for these rebels, she'd fought to survive, to protect Ashka and herself. But the rebels' gazes softened slightly, their suspicion giving way to cautious nods, and she realized Talon's words carried weight here. She crossed her arms, her emerald eyes narrowing as she met his stare. "Don't get used to it," she said, her tone sharp. "I'm not your soldier, and I'm not staying long enough to be."

One of the rebels, a broad-shouldered man with a patchy beard, snorted, his voice gruff as he leaned against the table. "Not a soldier, huh? You took down a rider with a hammer, girl. That's more than most of us can claim." He smirked, but there was no malice in it, only a rough sort of approval.

Kara didn't respond, her attention shifting to the table as Talon spread out a map, its edges frayed and stained with ink. He pointed to a spot marked with a crude X, his finger tracing a path through the mountains. "This is us," he said, his voice low. "Veyl's stronghold is here, two days' flight if we push Ashka hard. He'll send more riders soon, probably before dawn. We need to move deeper into rebel territory, link up with the main force."

Kara's eyes followed his finger, her mind racing as she pieced together the stakes. Veyl's riders weren't just after Talon, they were after her now too, thanks to the dragon she'd patched and the fight she'd joined. She glanced at Ashka, who had settled outside the tent, her massive form visible through the open flap, her amber eyes watching her with a quiet intensity. That heat in her chest flared again, a silent promise that she wasn't alone in this, and it steadied her resolve.

"I'm not running forever," she said, her voice firm as she looked back at Talon. "You said Ashka chose me, whatever that means. I deserve to know why, and I'm not moving another step until you tell me something real."

The rebels exchanged glances, their murmurs falling silent as Talon straightened, his gray eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, he didn't speak, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. Then he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a rough whisper meant for her alone. "Ashka's not just any dragon," he said, his scarred face taut with something like pain. "She was Veyl's prize, his strongest weapon, until I took her. She bonds with riders, but it's rare, it's instinct, and it's never happened with someone who wasn't trained for it. Until you."

Kara's breath caught, her mind reeling as his words sank in. A prize dragon, stolen from a king, bonding with a smith who'd never held a spear or ridden a beast before today. It didn't make sense, yet it explained the heat in her chest, the way Ashka's pain and pride echoed in her own bones. She swallowed hard, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "So what does that make me? Your replacement?"

Talon's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Not even close," he said, his tone softening just a fraction. "I'm her rider, but she's claimed you too. I don't know why, and I don't like it, but I can't deny it. You're in this now, Kara, whether you want to be or not."

Kara's heart pounded, a mix of anger and awe swirling in her chest as she held his gaze. She didn't want this, didn't ask for it, but the thought of Ashka choosing her, of being tied to something so fierce and wild, lit a spark she couldn't ignore. She glanced at the dragon again, her amber eyes steady and unyielding, and felt that heat surge with a quiet strength. "Then we'd better figure it out," she said, her voice low but firm as she gripped her hammer tighter, her knuckles whitening with resolve. "Because I'm not here to be your pawn."

Talon nodded, a rare flicker of understanding passing between them, and for the first time, Kara felt a shift, a fragile thread of trust weaving through the mistrust that had defined them. The rebels around them began to move, gathering weapons and supplies, their voices rising in a low hum of preparation. Outside, Ashka let out a soft growl, her tail curling protectively near the tent, and Kara knew this was only the beginning. Veyl's riders would come again, and when they did, she'd be ready, forged in fury and bound by something stronger than steel.