Anatoly grumbled to himself but held his tongue.
Abigail was relieved that the agony of getting mounted atop Ixabrax was finally over, that her pain had subsided into a low throb, but she knew it wouldn’t last. The battle would be an exercise in agony. Flight required using your arms and legs to remain stable in your saddle … more so when you didn’t have a saddle.
Abigail closed her eyes and focused on her breathing while she waited for the enemy to draw near. Magda mounted, as did Anatoly, riding Ixabrax’s youngest brother, Khazad. At the sound of the enemy’s approach floating on the cold night air, all three quaffed dragon draught, the last of their supply. Coldness flowed into Abigail’s veins.
The enemy crested a rise and formed up for an attack run. All four dragons leapt into the air, scattering in different directions. Abigail gasped in pain, willing her mind to focus on the fight and not on her injury, but was still distracted by the pulsating agony in her broken leg. Zuhl’s trio of young dragons remained in formation, targeting Izzulft. The elder dragon roared in defiance and gained altitude, easily outpacing his children.
Nix carried Magda into the sky, following her mate in a wide orbit, waiting for a chance to strike. Her youngest son, Khazad flew at her wing, carrying Anatoly. Ixabrax waited off to the side, orbiting in wider circles.
Spells from the three riders fell short. Izzulft tipped over and fell into a dive, gaining terrible speed and closing the distance to the dragon on the right of the formation in seconds. He crashed into his daughter and grappled her wings tight against her chest, falling with her while his tail snaked around and cut the man riding her in half.
As they plummeted to the ground, Ixabrax altered course to glide toward the spot where Izzulft intended to land. “Be ready, I’ll get you as close as possible.”
Abigail slipped her hand through the thong on the Thinblade. Izzulft continued to fall with the other two dragons in tight dives behind him. Ixabrax altered course to intercept one of his sisters.
All Abigail could do was hold on and endure the pain, waiting to cut a collar while dragons battled around her. She started laughing at the insanity of it all.
Nix made a run at the lagging dragon that was chasing Izzulft to the ground, breathing frost in a great cloud, icing the wings of her daughter and collapsing the shield of the priest riding her. Magda waited until they had passed before unleashing her spell, a dozen shards of magical force, one after the next, leapt from her hand, streaking to the target and hitting the priest in the back with unerring precision. He slumped forward against the dragon’s neck.
Izzulft broke their fall at the last moment, sparing his daughter a crushing death but dropping her hard enough to stun her, while remaining aloft and banking sharply toward the dragon still diving toward him. Zuhl loosed his spell. An orb of amber, tinted with blackness, shot toward Izzulft, transforming into a wide circular net at the last moment and collapsing around him, midair. Izzulft lost strength and folded his wings, falling nearly a hundred feet to the ground.
He hit hard.
Rolling to a stop on the glacier, the elder dragon groaned but didn’t try to get back up. Zuhl pressed the attack, crash-landing on top of Izzulft and dismounting with a collar in hand, while Izzulft’s daughter held him down. The moment Zuhl’s foot touched the ground, Izzulft thrust into the air, carrying his daughter with him. He flew in an arc that brought them down near Ixabrax, landing on top of his daughter and holding her head down to expose the collar.
Ixabrax extended his head and neck close to his struggling sister, so Abigail could reach out with the Thinblade. She clenched her teeth in pain but managed to cut the collar cleanly and quickly. A moment later, Ixabrax’s sister stopped struggling and Izzulft let her up. When Ixabrax launched into the air again, Abigail gasped in agony, fighting to remain conscious.
All at once the cacophony of battle was interrupted by the roar of a hundred drakini pouring over the nearest ridge. They split evenly between the now five free dragons and fanned out to attack en masse. One of the two remaining collared dragons circled in protection of Zuhl, while he removed the corpse in the saddle of the other and fastened himself in. A few moments later, he was airborne again with the second dragon riding his right wing.
Abigail felt sudden, stabbing pain with each thrust as Ixabrax struggled to gain altitude and distance from the twenty drakini pursuing him. Once he leveled off and started to glide in a wide circle, Abigail managed to wrest her focus from the insistent claim of such intense pain. She scanned the enemy below, all of them struggling to reach such a height, a few coming close, but none succeeding.
Calmly, Abigail nocked an arrow and took aim. The arrow sailed out and down, rapidly gaining speed, but falling well short. She adjusted her aim and fired again, this time scoring a direct hit in the back of a drakini circling below. It tried to glide to the ground but lost control, crashing in a jumble of broken bones.
Izzulft flew straight at the twenty drakini targeting him, crashing into several, claw, fang, and tail thrashing about in a whirl, dead drakini spinning off of him as he passed through their formation and spread his wings to gain altitude for another attack. The wave of drakini, now half their original number, turned to meet the dragon’s next charge.
Magda, riding Nix, was working to get an angle on Zuhl and the remaining two dragons under his control. Anatoly, riding Khazad, was floating along behind her, attacking any drakini that got too close. Ixabrax adjusted his course to be as close to his collared siblings as possible should he need to deliver Abigail and the Thinblade.
Zuhl banked sharply, turning into Magda and unleashing an ice spike six feet long and a foot wide and moving fast enough to cut a man in two. Magda stretched out, reaching past Nix’s neck, and projected a force wall below them. It manifested as an opaque, grey pane of energy and it only lasted for a few seconds, but the ice spike exploded into vapor on impact.
Nix breathed a cloud of frost at Zuhl, but his shield pulsed red and the frost blew past him as steam. She banked up and to the left, circling away from Zuhl, gaining altitude. Zuhl broke away to the right and circled around on Izzulft, who was nearly finished slaughtering all twenty of the drakini that had attacked him. Zuhl got around behind him and cast another paralysis net, the amber orb expanding into a fine mesh that started to settle over Izzulft’s wings. This time he lifted his wings straight up and fell, escaping from under the net and avoiding the paralyzing effect of its touch.
Breaking his fall perilously close to the ground, Izzulft landed hard, crouching low for just a moment before thrusting into the air again. He gained altitude quickly, closing on Zuhl with each stroke. Zuhl cast an ice spike, Izzulft ducked and the six-foot-long shard of ice ricocheted off his back, shattering into pieces. He renewed his pursuit, clawing his way through the air toward his daughter and the mage that had enslaved them for so long.
Floating overhead on Nix, Magda loosed her spell. She knew it wouldn’t penetrate Zuhl’s shield, but that wasn’t her purpose—she meant to distract him just long enough for Izzulft to close the distance. A dozen shards of magical force slammed into Zuhl’s shield, one after the next. It wasn’t a complicated spell, but it was quick and effective, two qualities that Magda favored for combat spells.
Zuhl looked up for just a moment before returning his full attention to Izzulft. As the elder dragon closed the gap, Zuhl removed a ring he was wearing and held it out toward Izzulft. Holding the dragon’s eyes, he pronounced an ancient word and tossed the ring into the air. It vanished in a flare of total blackness. A moment later the two remaining collars flared the same black, and the dragons’ heads came free in midair, two of Izzulft’s children dead in an instant and plunging to the ground.
Zuhl leapt free of his saddle and fell toward the ground, slowing to a manageable speed and landing lightly. All of the dragons howled in fury and pain—two of their family were dead. The man responsible stood in open defiance below them. All eyes fell on him.
He stood in t
he snow, his white battle armor and long flowing snow-fox cloak blending into the surroundings. He didn’t run or hide or flinch when the dragons roared. He stood his ground and began preparing a spell, while the remaining twenty or so drakini flocked to him, surrounding him in a complete cordon.
Khazad flew over him, breathing a cloud of frigid air as he passed. Anatoly watched as some of the drakini were forced to the ground, their wings iced up, but Zuhl was unfazed, his shield completely absorbing the cold of the attack and countering it with heat while he focused on the words of his spell. An arrow bounced off his shield a moment later. Abigail cursed.
Magda cast a small blue orb at him. It hit his shield, depleting it in a few seconds, leaving Zuhl completely vulnerable, but still, he focused on the words of his spell.
Abigail loosed another arrow. She was a long way away but her aim was true, she knew she had him the moment the shaft left the bow. She held her breath while the arrow sailed through the air in a graceful arc, counting her heartbeats until it hit.
Zuhl looked up, spreading his arms wide, an orb of utter blackness materializing above him. A moment later it pulsed, sending out a rapidly expanding shell of darkness. When the darkness passed over each dragon, a black tether linked them from their chest to the orb floating over Zuhl’s head. Ixabrax was the only one spared, too far away for the spell to reach him.
Zuhl pronounced the final word loudly and defiantly. Abigail’s arrow buried in his chest to the feathers only the briefest moment later. Magda’s light-lance was next, burning a hole through the simulacrum where his heart was supposed to be. Zuhl slumped to the ground, dead.
In the span of the following three seconds, all of the darkness contained within the orb floating over Zuhl’s head drained into the four dragons. Each became stiff almost instantly, frozen in place, the pure blackness of Zuhl’s magic running its course. All four fell from the sky, their wings becoming so brittle that they shattered and broke off during the fall. Each hit the ground, exploding into a pile of blackened remains.
Anatoly hit hard, falling from Khazad and winding up nearly buried in the broken, desiccated remains of the murdered dragon. Magda leapt free of Nix and landed lightly in the snow nearby, watching in horror as all four dragons crashed to the ground and shattered into mounds of broken black, leaving terrible stains in the snow where they fell.
Ixabrax howled in a low wail, a death knell that carried on the wind for miles. Abigail felt such desperate sorrow in his cry. The pain of his loss was palpable, emanating from him in waves and all but overwhelming. She didn’t say anything, choosing instead to cry silently. And not just for Ixabrax’s loss, but for the guilt she felt for her part in it.
In retrospect, she should have known, she chided herself. Of course Zuhl would have a contingency plan, of course he would never allow the dragons he’d controlled for so long to roam free.
Ixabrax landed amid the lifeless ash of his family, falling silent and still. Abigail held her breath. Magda was moving toward Anatoly, but otherwise, the place was as still as a tomb.
“What have I done?” Ixabrax said. “My whole family … dead.”
“You didn’t do this. Zuhl did,” Abigail said.
Quicker than a cat, Ixabrax reached around, snatched her off his back and tossed her into the snow. Pain exploded from her leg. She gasped, tried to scream but couldn’t. She rolled to a stop and lay still, gathering her wits and struggling to focus her mind on the angry dragon instead of on her broken leg.
“Listen well, Human,” Ixabrax said. “Our business is done. You have failed to deliver my family and so my obligations to you end here. Do not seek me out again.” His anger melted into sadness as if he’d forgotten Abigail’s very existence and all that was left surrounding him were the remains of his family. With a howl of anguish, Ixabrax launched into the sky, turning north, away from Zuhl, away from his past … and away from humanity.
Chapter 44
“Trajan, you have to come out of there for this to work,” Isabel said, standing in the hallway leading to the crystal chamber. Ayela and Hazel, both bound and gagged, were each sitting in the center of one chamber, though Hazel, in Ayela’s body, was struggling mightily to squirm out of the circle.
“She’s trying to get free again,” Trajan said.
“I know. Let one of your men handle it so they can use that thing and make this right,” Isabel said. “As long as you and that bone are anywhere near this room, it won’t work.”
Trajan looked down at the femur he’d taken from the chamber. The bone was solid and sturdy with a large knot on each end, perfect for use as a club. He’d wrapped a leather thong around the end with the smaller knot. Isabel had selected a finger bone and tied a thong around it to make a necklace, concealing it underneath her tunic.
Trajan nodded and followed Isabel into the passage.
“All right, Hector, we should be far enough away,” she said.
It had taken days for Trajan’s men to dig them free of the Goiri’s crypt, but they worked methodically with the air of men who knew that they were working toward a successful outcome. Isabel and Trajan spent a lot of time talking during those days. He was furious about the Sin’Rath and vowed to hunt them to extinction, exactly the reaction Isabel had hoped for.
After significant convincing, he accepted that his sister was living within an old woman’s body and spent some time threatening Hazel with a variety of very painful ways to die. Hazel was, of course, gagged and bound, so it was a very one-sided conversation.
There were a number of smaller rooms at even intervals surrounding the main chamber where the Goiri had died, all accessible through large archways. The remains of furniture, glassware, and books littered the floors, but it looked as if the whole place had been destroyed in a mad rage a long time ago.
Isabel had gone to one room after the next, peering inside, hoping to find something useful and being disappointed, until she came to a very unusual room. It was rectangular, longer than it was wide. The walls, floor, and ceiling were made of stone in the first part of the room but gradually transformed into crystal shot through with gold near the far end. A low bench ran the width of the room along the far wall, carved from the same crystal and gold as the rest of that end of the room, with a large crystal bowl in the center of the bench. She peered into the bowl, expecting to find some kind of treasure, but found only dust. Still the room caught her imagination and set her mind to wondering.
During the days that Trajan’s men worked to dig them free, Isabel found ample time to read the two spellbooks she’d taken from Hazel.
The charm spell was powerful and insidious, relying not on anger or love for the distracting emotion, but hate. At first, Isabel was surprised and confused by the nature of the spell, but soon came to understand the level of contempt toward another person one must feel in order to deprive them of their free will through such magic. That kind of contempt could only be the product of hate. Isabel got the impression that this charm spell was a variation of a more basic spell, one that relied on love, but she couldn’t be sure. In any event, she didn’t think she’d be making use of this spell anytime soon.
The shapeshift spell was another matter. It could be powered by either love or anger and it had a wide range of applications. Changing into something of similar weight and size was the most basic form of the spell, allowing the caster to assume another person’s appearance, but the spell was much more potent for witches with the power and talent to make use of it. A High Witch could transform into a creature or object a hundred times her size or a hundred times smaller. At that level, the shapeshift spell became incredibly versatile. Isabel spent most of her time studying the spell, though she couldn’t actually learn it since the Goiri bones prevented her from practicing. That didn’t stop her from committing the spell to memory so she could practice it when she had the chance.
After they’d freed themselves from the Goiri’s crypt, they went straight to the crystal chamber. Hazel resisted, of cour
se, so two of Trajan’s men had to bodily carry her. The same two tied a rope under her knees and looped it behind her neck. With her hands tied behind her back, she was unable to move out of the magic circle.
Hector pushed the large emerald in the center of the panel. Nothing happened.
Several seconds passed before the crystal began to glow, increasing in intensity very quickly, until it was so bright that even Isabel and Trajan down the hall were blinded.
The light subsided as quickly as it had come, plunging the chamber into relative darkness with only two torches for light.
Isabel approached Ayela and untied her legs, then removed her gag. “Convince me,” she said.
Ayela proceeded to answer questions from both Isabel and Trajan for several minutes until both were satisfied that she was herself again. Hector stood back and watched until the verdict was determined, then roughly picked Hazel up and tossed her frail old body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“It’s time,” he said, handing Ayela Hazel’s bag of potions and powders.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Isabel asked.
For some reason she was torn. She knew at a very fundamental level that working with the darkness, even in the smallest way, always had a downside, but … for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she wanted to see the ghidora summoned, she wanted Hector to send it to kill Phane. Even if he survived the attack, it was an attack that he just about had to meet in person. The satisfaction of bringing the war to his doorstep was very alluring. For far too long, he’d sent his minions after them. The chance to retaliate in kind was compelling. Yet … where darkness was involved … darkness was involved.
“Yes.”
“It could have consequences,” Isabel said.
“I know,” Hector said, stepping around her as he carried Hazel toward the black-and-white room.
Isabel followed him, trying to come up with an argument that might reach him, some string of words that would change the loss he felt or undo his implacable need for vengeance. Nothing came to her. Hazel deserved to die, but Isabel was far more worried about the consequences of involving a demon in the process.
Cursed Bones (Sovereign of the Seven Isles: Book Five) Page 39
