"We can't land," Kendra said. "They'll overrun us in an instant. And Kenward might drop the next bombs on us."
Sinjin would have laughed under other circumstances. "We need to wing walk."
Kendra gave him a look that said she thought he was insane but offered no alternative. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked, her voice betraying fear.
He couldn't blame her; the thought was more terrifying than anything he'd ever done. But to land was to die. His mother's influence on his mind was subtle, but he recognized it.
You can do it.
Without responding, Sinjin unstrapped and pushed up onto his knees. "Take him out of here," he said to Strom. "Use all the speed he can handle."
Kendra had moved onto the wing.
"Are you crazy?" came Gwen's voice, clearly incredulous, as she flashed past, firing on ferals in her path all the while.
Sinjin knew the answer but stepped out onto Valterius's injured wing, careful to stay clear of the hole burned in the membrane. Gerhonda's wing supported the weight from below, but he wasted no time. Passing Kendra was the most difficult part, and it occurred to Sinjin that this would have been far safer had he let her cross first, but there simply was no time. He just hoped it didn't get them killed. Lightning split the skies, leaving hazy ghosts in his vision.
Claws raked the air nearby. Last-second bursts of thrust kept them alive, which caused the dragons to shift underfoot. When he made it to Gerhonda's saddle, the sword over his shoulder, Sinjin reached for the straps.
The ferals had been waiting.
Kenward was gone. Gwen and those in the other aircraft were distant. Three feral dragons collided with Gerhonda in a coordinated attack, nearly knocking Sinjin from the saddle. Holding on took most of his concentration. Kendra soared in front, pulling on a single strap before Valterius was overwhelmed.
What Sinjin saw next made him question his own eyes. Gleaming like a comet embodied, Kyrien bore down on them. In his mother's dragon ore saddle, Pelivor rode in a suit of intricate metallic armor. In one hand, he held a metal staff; in the other, a thrust sphere. Lightning seared the air. Giant claws ripped Sinjin from the sky and bore him away. It took him a moment to realize Kyrien had grabbed him. Pelivor applied thrust, his lightning assaulting nearby ferals.
The giants made one last push to keep Sinjin away from the Noonspire. Sacrificing themselves and their dragons, they flew in close and launched whatever they had. Kyrien and Pelivor defended as well as they could, but ferals and giants attacked from all directions. Sinjin screamed when a whole tree struck him, knocking his breath away and possibly breaking ribs. He would have grabbed his side if not for a hooded figure being thrown at him. Reaching out with clawed hands, the assailant grabbed on to Sinjin, making the pain worse. In their struggle, the figure's hood fell open, revealing a form more dragon than human, and Sinjin felt sick. A perverse combination of two creatures, forced on nature, shrieked at him. An instant later, it fell away, its eyes going distant. Kendra stared up at him before turning her light bow on the ferals surrounding her and Valterius.
Despair washed over Sinjin in massive waves threatening to crush his spirit. They were lost. Images of the accomplishments humankind had achieved since Istra's return flashed through his mind. All the things his mother had done, and even he and the Dragon Clan--it was all for naught. How could he possibly win where the most powerful people in the world had failed? It was folly.
His fearful tirade was interrupted as a barrage of information flooded his mind. Now he understood Strom's reaction to thoughts invading without warning or request.
You could not know.
Kyrien's voice in Sinjin's mind was overwhelming and absolute. It allowed no other thought, even as they moved closer to the top of the Noonspire, even with Pelivor waging a battle like nothing seen in a hundred lifetimes.
If you had known, they would have stolen the knowledge and used it against us all.
Stunned, Sinjin tried to make sense of new realization and understanding. Visions showed him the choices Kyrien had made. Tears welled and flowed freely as he saw his father, Prios, stealing an egg from the regent queen. When a single egg glowed brighter, Prios selected it. It had started then, for Kyrien, but everything he'd done since was toward this purpose--this singular moment in time when all would be decided. There had been no other way.
When I saved the sky stone from being destroyed, and in doing so saved Master Edling from your mother's wrath, I did so for a reason.
With that thought came images. Kyrien plucked Sinjin's grandfather from before the headsmen's axe and later rescued his mother just before she would have killed Master Edling. Then there came a gift from above. A melon-sized rock descended, its surface pocked and pitted yet worn smooth. How Pelivor managed to lower it and still fight was beyond his knowing, but Sinjin latched on to it. There was no question as to what the stone was, but he would have to sheath his sword to carry it securely.
More images rushed in. High above the Inland Sea, Kyrien and Catrin soared toward the Westland coast, taking down Seethe and Thorakis the Builder. He'd seen this event from much farther away, from a balcony within Ravenhold. Now he saw what he had always suspected. The dragons twined around each other, locked in a mating dance. They had plummeted like stones, his mother still strapped to Kyrien's back. The pain returned full force, even knowing his mother had survived. For years, he'd believed that to be the moment of his mother's passing. The pain was no less real.
I did not tell Strom why such a sword was needed. Nor did I tell your mother. I did not tell you why you must retrieve the sword, even if at great cost. You could not have known. Now you must know everything. You must understand and do what is required, no matter what.
Visions of the regent queen's death and the loss of all the rest of Kyrien's kind made Sinjin understand. No greater purpose existed. Only then did he see Kyrien's brilliance, somehow knowing what he would do and become before his birth. Such a burden unimaginable, Sinjin's own responsibilities pressed down on him. Determining humanity's fate had been difficult for his mother, and now he understood why.
You have the knowledge, the character, and the spirit to do what must be done. Fail not.
Those were the last words before Kyrien released his grip. Tumbling toward the top of the Noonspire, Sinjin Volker wondered what he'd gotten himself into.
Chapter 15
The human mind is weak and easily tricked.
--Mael, sorcerer
* * *
Falling toward the Noonspire, Sinjin could not imagine a more perilous perch. The height and wind would make most people quail, but the battle in the air surrounding the spire made it downright terrifying. He could not let fear rule and clenched his jaws, ready to do what had been asked of him. Those within saw him coming, despite a pitched battle taking place within the spire itself. Aggrezjhon and Murden knew he approached, and they probed his thoughts. The reaction was almost immediate. Tinged with fear and apprehension, a crown of lightning erupted from the Noonspire, reaching out with deadly intent, only to arc and bend toward the sky stone Sinjin clutched with one hand. In his other, he held the sword, ready to do what was needed.
Streaks of fire leaped forth, and feral claws swiped at him. The sky stone absorbed the fire as if it had never been, but the claws got far too close. Only the efforts of Kyrien and Pelivor along with Kenward and Gwen kept Sinjin unharmed.
Fires erupted atop the spire, searing air belching upward. Covering his face against the heat, Sinjin was suspended by the forceful updraft, ancient sorcerers probing his thoughts. They knew what he planned. They knew all Kyrien's secrets. No hope remained. Nothing would stop the greatest powers ever to walk Godsland.
Helpless, Sinjin floated and endured the mental assault. Doubt undermined his confidence, making him question Kyrien's intentions and reconsider his commitment. No more time remained, though, as claws forced Sinjin downward. Flames reached higher. Sinjin screamed but knew what he had to do. Lightning
and fire poured into the sky stone, which grew hotter and hotter. His sword ready, he aimed downward and thrust.
The flames wavered as he approached and everything changed.
Those within had been trying to repel him but seemed to have given up and suddenly began drawing him closer, trying desperately to pull him within the smoky black crystal. Images flooded his mind then, visions of his mother and father and the life they had shared. Scenes of his younger self playing pranks with Durin would have brought a smile to his face were he not in such a perilous position. Sinjin held on tightly, but the sky stone was torn from his grip. It plummeted to the charred, smoking swamp below. Sinjin wrapped both hands around the sword hilt, driving it into the mighty facet waiting to devour him. This was how his mother had entered the crystal structure, and this was how Aggrezjhon and Murden meant to pull him in as well. Flames still licked the top of the spire, but the portal opened to receive him, pushing the fire away. Moving unerringly toward that spot, Sinjin was drawn with terrific force. Nothing he could do would change his trajectory. Fire leaped out to his now unprotected hands grasping the sword hilt, but Sinjin would not release, could not relent. The consequences would not allow it. Screaming, he held on with a viselike grip.
A single breath later, his sword struck the Noonspire a mighty blow. Right behind it, he encountered hard, slick crystal. The flames exacted a price before winking out. The air went silent, except the sword. Vibrating at a specific frequency, it sang a powerful note. Resonating, the crystal trembled, unable to resist. Getting to his feet, Sinjin Volker straddled the peak. Like a gearsmith's clock, he repeatedly struck the spire at a precise and measured pace.
The fight for the skies continued, looking surreal. Seeing the Drakon engaged gave Sinjin heart. No longer could the din be heard, and the light took on a different hue. Within the crystal, battle raged. Shades vied for control. Kyrien had known the sword's solitary note would temporarily alter the Noonspire's structure. He'd known each strike would stun those within, and they would likely need all the time between blows to regain their composure. Still, Sinjin did not know what would happen next. His strikes might render Aggrezjhon and Murden helpless for brief moments in time, but it would do the same to all those within.
Not knowing any other way to help his mother, Sinjin committed himself to doing as Kyrien asked. Over and over he rang the crystal like a giant bell until his arms felt as if they might fall off. Nonetheless, bright flashes within gave evidence the fight continued.
* * *
Within the Noonspire the light was distorted and weak. Still, it fed Catrin's soul and sustained her despite being tainted with the hatred of eons. Others might have struggled to wield Istra's powers within the crystal, which was among the reasons it had been used as a prison, but Catrin absorbed all the energy around her. Unless trapped under stone or that foul-smelling blanket of Jharmin Kyte's, it was unavoidable.
Even with greater access to power, Catrin could achieve little. With the exception of projecting herself through the fractured keystone, reaching anything outside the crystal had proven impossible. The designers would likely have left the keystone out, given the choice, but it was the entire reason the Noonspire had been located there in the first place. Its existence had also made the disguise more effective since who would build a prison for sorcerers upon a sacred place of power. In spite of all that, this very prison had functioned for thousands of years.
Perhaps the ancients planned on finding some other solution but never had. Catrin couldn't help but think they left the problem for her generation to deal with. Those who made this place were long since dead, along with their great-great-great-grandchildren. Now power had returned to the world and was ever growing. A prison this would be no more. If not for Catrin and the others, the tipping point would already have been reached, unleashing Aggrezjhon and Murden on the world in their new bodies.
The battle taking place outside was distorted and strange. Though close in proximity, it was a world away. Bright flashes brought no thunder, and the silence belied the true nature of what transpired. Trinda Hollis stood nearby, wringing her hands, her white dress stained and fouled. Allette Kilbor crouched, a cornered animal ready to lash out, her allegiance highly questionable. She'd no doubt been under these sorcerers' influence for years, and trust would be difficult to grant. It did not escape Catrin that she herself might have been under Mael's influence for an even greater time, but that made trusting Allette no easier. All had been played for fools and pawns, dangerous pawns--and prickly.
Being trapped within a place inhabited by angry, vengeful spirits dampened the soul. Hopelessness and oppression coated everything and left even those whose inner fires burned brightly in a deep malaise. Insanity would come for them all, sooner than later, and it might be best to just let the sorcerers win. Then they could all escape and bask in untainted comet light once again. Outside they could breathe deeply the smell of renewed life. Outside they would be powerful once again, ready to face any foe. It was a lie, and Catrin knew it. She could only hope the others possessed the fortitude to resist coercion. Doing so was becoming increasingly difficult.
Those with living bodies remained huddled together for whatever strength it afforded them. Sarjak of the Scorpion Clan alone was not touched by Istra's powers. Part of his robes were missing, and his spear was a good bit shorter than when he'd leaped through the damaged keystone, but he had some magic of his own. Catrin didn't know by what luck he survived; the damage to his garment and spear spoke of other, more gruesome, possibilities. She doubted the man could do anything to protect against their hosts, but having a trained fighter at her side somehow gave her strength. Memories of Benjin, Chase, Pelivor, and others filling a similar place in her life almost brought a smile.
Aggrezjhon and Murden lost their physical forms so long ago, even they had trouble remembering how they once looked. Seldom did they fully manifest, always blurry and out of focus. It would not take long for the others to join them in formlessness. All the old sorcerers had to do was wait. Catrin's physical body would be absorbed into the crystal, gradually leeched away, just as theirs had so long ago.
The sorcerers did not want to wait. They wanted out. At first Catrin had thought Allette and Trinda had been taken for just that purpose. She'd been wrong. The two women were bait. Catrin was the vessel Aggrezjhon and Murden desired, her body already acclimated to massive power, her barriers obliterated. Even in the previous age, that had been a rare thing. Either would be invincible given her form. That fact was perhaps Catrin's salvation; they could not both have her.
Evening skewed the outside light, it did not bring about darkness but instead accentuated the comet light no longer drowned out by Vestra's rays. The light shifted in hue and angle but did not diminish; however, it did make those within the crystal look like the specters they would soon become. The world reeked of power, and Catrin knew this prison, no matter how massive and effective it had been for eons, was about the fail. When it did, those within would either escape or perish.
Having bided their time, the sorcerers came without warning, neither willing to allow the other an edge. The ferocious assault knocked Catrin from her feet, her head smacking against the rune-engraved stones encircling the fractured keystone. Buckled and cracked, sharp stone bit into flesh. The warm sensation of blood brought instincts to the fore.
Aggrezjhon and Murden assaulted her psyche with unmitigated ferocity, each trying to wipe out any trace of identity in a single massive blow. The simultaneous attacks were more than any person should ever endure, but they worked against each other, lessening the efficacy. Had the two cooperated, Catrin would have been lost. It was a realization she wished she could take back since the shades read her thoughts. After the briefest lull, they combined their respective energies into a single overwhelming attack.
Feeling herself slip away, Catrin reached out to those around her, desperately seeking help. What assistance Allette and Trinda provided was weak and unfocused. It did
little to stem the tide wrought by Aggrezjhon and Murden. Grasping on to memories, Catrin clung to that which meant the most to her: Sinjin.
As if that single thought summoned what she needed most, Catrin looked up. Her son dangled from Kyrien's claws. Seeing them bolstered her strength in a way nothing else could. It also distracted the sorcerers, who repelled Sinjin and lashed out with malicious intent. Their attacks found no purchase.
How her son defended himself so completely remained a mystery until she recognized the pocked stone he carried. Master Edling had used that very artifact against her and Prios; it had nearly been her downfall. Now, though, it provided protection to the one she cherished most. He'd come for her, and seeing the pocked stone ripped away and sent tumbling to the swamp below inspired reckless action. Screaming, she rushed Aggrezjhon and Murden. Sarjak of the Scorpion Clan ran at her side, issuing a ululating battle cry. He should have stayed behind.
No training or physical skill could prepare one for fighting wraiths. Noble and gallant, the Arghast tribesman crouched low and arched the remainder of his spear to resemble a scorpion's tail. Rushing forward and getting ahead of Catrin, Sarjak fell. There was no flash, no lightning or thunder. Aggrezjhon's shade simply pointed a finger at the nimble fighter and drew the life from him.
"No!" Catrin cried out, seeing yet another soul sacrificed for her. Weight enough rested on her shoulders, and this threatened to crush her. But Sinjin gave her strength.
Knowing she would attack, Aggrezjhon and Murden reversed whatever tactics they had been using and now tried to draw Sinjin into the Noonspire. That she could not allow. With all her might, she did as she'd done long ago, before breaking down the barrier between her and Istra's light. Rather than simply channel the flood of power washing over her, Catrin gathered energy from around, squeezing it from the crystal and focusing it. A being of light, she attacked the darkness.
The Seventh Magic (Book 3) Page 15
