The Burning Tide by Jonathan Auxier

Author:Jonathan Auxier
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.

Meilin stared at the Wyrm, unable to look away. More roots from the Evertree had snapped loose, and now the egg was hanging by a single thread. The egg itself was swinging and thrashing, as whatever was inside fought to free itself from the roots. Black ooze dripped from the large crack in the shell. Takoda could see dark and slimy tendrils moving between the fissures, writhing and twitching. Then the tendrils slid back, and he saw the red eye of the Wyrm, huge and searching.

Meilin heard a groaning sound as the last strand of the Evertree’s roots snapped and the egg finally broke free. It fell down to the ground, landing with an earthshaking shudder.

Rubble and smoke burst into the air. Meilin fell to one side, trying her best to protect Jhi from falling rubble. In the chaos, all she could hear were the snarls of the Many. And then above that, a new sound. A low, gurgling hiss that seemed to slither right up her spine and land in the back of her teeth.

As the dust cleared, Meilin rose and stared at the place where the egg had fallen. There was a dent in the stone floor from the impact. The shell had cracked open and now lay in several pieces. Black ooze seeped out from the spot, spreading across the ground in greedy little rivulets. And there, in the middle of it all, lay a roiling black knot of slick tendrils.

The arms—there must have been a dozen of them—slithered and flailed, pulling themselves apart like a knot untying itself. At the center of these was the Wyrm. The head—if you could call it a head—was somewhere in the middle of its enormous body. The thing blinked its red eyes—Meilin counted at least four—and then opened what must have been its mouth. It was a hideous, leechlike ring of razor-sharp teeth that seemed to flex and twist as it moved. The Wyrm let out a hoarse screech.

Meilin clutched her staff. “It’s … like something from a nightmare.”

She had been expecting to see a creature that looked like a lizard or salamander, or maybe even a snake, but the Wyrm did not appear so simple. Its movements were so fluid that it was difficult to grasp its full shape. Staring at it, Meilin was reminded of the way oil shifted and slid across the surface of water.

The appearance of the Wyrm seemed to have made an impact on the Many, who rushed closer to the glowstones—now unafraid of the searing light. They were all staring at the bell tower—at Meilin and her friends. The Wyrm was also facing them, its four eyes narrowed into hateful red slits. It screeched again, and the Many all charged through the perimeter—straight for the tower.

“Like I said,” Meilin said, rotating her staff into a fighting position, “we’ve got a long way to go.”

“Incoming!” Xanthe shouted, and then sounded the attack on her horn. “Brace for impact.”

But trying to brace for this attack was like trying to stand up against the crashing tide.

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