“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 the venin are dead, but one is—”
