Magic (The Brindle Dragon Book 5)

by Jada Fisher

Heat hit her first, then pain. It consumed all of her for a beat, before localizing to her stomach. Hardly able to breathe, she looked down to see a vibrant, red gash all the way across her soft middle.

  “Wha— What?” she barely was able to whisper, looking up to see Valatos staring at her gleefully. Blood rushed down her waist, and she pressed her hands to her middle to try to staunch the wound.

  “Oh no, none of that,” the jester said, raising the dagger as if he were going to slash her again. “I need all that blood for my pretty circle.”

  7

  Loss

  Eist could feel her heart race and her breathing tried to pick up to match it, but her middle refused to move. She knew that she needed to call for help from her friends, but her body was so locked with pain it felt like it wouldn’t even allow her to exhale.

  But she had to, because the knife was slashing toward her again and she knew she couldn’t take another deep wound.

  Suddenly, something streaked between them, and Valatos’s hand was caught in Fior’s jaws. The save seemed to allow Eist’s mind to catch up and she headbutted the jester with all her might, sending him tumbling backward, cursing. In his rush to grip his bleeding, broken nose, he dropped his dagger. Fior quickly pounced on it, and Eist took the opportunity to stumble backward, trying to grunt at her friends to draw their attention from the horde rushing toward them.

  Was there even a horde, she had to wonder. Or was that part of the trap too? Eist didn’t know, and her question flew from her mind as she took another step backward only to be stopped by strong, solid hands.

  She let out a soft gasp and finally that seemed to catch Yacrist’s attention, but it was too late. Eist knew exactly who was holding onto her shoulders so tightly that she was sure there would be bruises there if she lived to the next day…which seemed fairly doubtful.

  “Stay still now, my little Eist. This will all be over in just a moment.”

  She tried to pull away, her eyes locking on Yacrist’s as all the color drained from his face. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell him—to run, to save himself, to save her—but before she could figure it out, he was rushing forward.

  The next thing Eist knew, he wasn’t tackling the sorcerer, but rather her. The two of them went tumbling to the side, ending up in a heap on the floor.

  That had certainly gotten the others’ attention, however, and suddenly all of their weapons were focused on the sorcerer and Valatos, who was crouched where Eist had left him, still nursing his busted nose.

  “Eist, you’re wounded!” Dille cried, bow raised. “Are you alright?”

  “Does she look alright?” Yacrist snapped right back. “By the Three! There’s blood everywhere!” Carefully, he untangled himself from her and helped her to her feet. The world spun for a moment, but she pushed herself through it.

  “It’s just a cut. I’ll be fine.”

  “Here, let me try something,” Yacrist said, eyes only for her as he gently pressed a finger to her middle, sliding it through the blood. Eist wanted to tell him not to take his eyes from the sorcerer, but the last sentence she had uttered had taken up so much of her energy already. She wasn’t sure how much she could have left, even though all of her senses were telling her that the fight was only beginning.

  She shook as his fingers moved over her raw flesh. Whether it was from the pain, or the weakness taking over her, or from the sorcerer’s interested and amused gaze, she didn’t know. She supposed it didn’t matter, especially when abruptly, the pain dulled, and she was filled with a strange sort of warmth.

  “A sealing rune. That’s a clever idea,” the sorcerer remarked idly, as if there weren’t two dragons and five of his enemies in the room.

  “You…you can do magic?” Eist breathed, looking down at her middle. She couldn’t really see much with her slashed tunic in the way, so she pulled the fabric apart just enough to see that he had drawn some complicated looking symbol on her middle with her blood.

  “No,” Yacrist answered plainly, his eyes trained on the sorcerer. “But you don’t need to be magic for a rune to work. It just has to be made with the right materials or put on the right person.”

  “Clever, clever, clever,” the sorcerer said, clapping delightedly. “You know, I could use a fellow like you in the fold.”

  “Why would I ever want to help you destroy the world?!” Yacrist snapped, voice full of venom. Fior growled in a similar sentiment, his head low to the ground while his little wings flared threateningly. As for Eist, she felt as if she was slowly coming back to herself, her skin warming and her blood flowing through her instead of out of her. She was probably going to have a nasty scar, but it could just join the rest.

  The sorcerer’s eyes went wide. “Is that why you think we’re doing this?”

  “Why else would you being trying to bring back the Blight?” Dille snapped, tightening her bow ever-so-slightly.

  But the man just rolled his eyes. “Of course, you use that wretched name given to it by the fear-mongers.” He drew himself up taller, and Eist was reminded of just how dangerous and intimidating he could be. Not that she had ever really forgotten. “What you call the Blight is not some malevolent spirit come to ruin you all. That is all lies and heresy drummed up by the followers of the Three, who usurped this land from its rightful deities!”

  He raised his arms, as if proselytizing to his followers. “Have you not noticed that our world, once lush with dragons and magic and so much life, dwindles every day? It grows grayer, dryer, and ever more dead, drained by the unstoppable appetite of those errant gods.

  “The Blight is a natural force come to cleanse this world, to return it to its rightful state so we can flourish once more! That is why the Three fear it so, why they taught their followers to try to defeat it at all cost. But it cannot be defeated any more than a mountain or ocean can. It is what is meant to be, how our realms keep the balances they were always meant to.”

  Eist was aware that perhaps someone could be stirred by his convictions, especially given what she knew about the spirits that used to be in charge. But when she heard his words, she could feel how incredibly wrong they were.

  And who knew, maybe the Three were a negative on her realm, but she knew well enough that the Blight wasn’t some ultimate judge, or purveyor of the natural order. She could feel it in her soul and sliding along her skin just how much it was a ravenous beast of corruption and malice.

  “And you just happen to be the man who’s going to control this natural force?” she spat, hoping he felt every bit of anger she had in her.

  To her surprise, he shook his head. “Control it? Hardly. I am simply a follower, a shepherd who has a sword to spread his word.”

  “I’ve never heard of a shepherd who pays mercenaries to catch a dragon, or captures innocent people to change into monsters, or—”

  The man just waved his hand, like he was dismissing her words with the simple gesture. “Everything I have done so far has been necessary to break the bonds currently stopping the Blight from doing its calling.”

  “Those bonds were set in place by my parents!” Eist snapped. “They gave up everything to seal that evil away.”

  “Yes, they did,” he answered with a grin. “And you’ve given me everything to break them.”

  “What—”

  “That day where you first faced off with one of my followers, a particularly gifted healer who had taken so much of the gift into her heart, I watched. If someone had told me then that you would be the pin holding everything together, I might have laughed. But now… Now I see it all. How you’re the center of all of it, as your mother was before you. I admire you, Eist, and I do hope that you see the light before it’s too late.”

  “Farmad!” Valatos said, stumbling to his feet. “You must hurry, before it dries.”

  Before what dried…

  Eist looked down to see that a large amount of her blood was pooled in the center of the circle she had found Valatos in, followed by a streak
when Yacrist had tackled her. Instantly her legs started to shake, and she realized that she had messed up.

  Really messed up.

  “Ah yes, I forgot myself. I’ll give you an option. Right now, you all can turn around and leave. I’ll let you. And in the dawn, you can see the beginning of the glorious path we’ve started upon.”

  “Or?” Eist asked raggedly. While Yacrist’s rune had helped her, and she didn’t feel like she was dying, she still was quite weak. She had been sliced through her belly, after all, and while it wasn’t deep enough to have gotten through all of her skin, it still didn’t feel very pleasant.

  “Or the lot of you try to stop me, as you no doubt think you have to do. The foolish choice, as I would have to kill all of you. I know you might not believe me, Eist, but I don’t actually want you dead.

  “I did at first, but only because I didn’t understand the potential within you. Now that I know, I would much rather have you see how beautiful our world can be rather than snuff out your light in this sad, little room.”

  Eist pulled one of her daggers from her belt. “You know how I’ll answer that.”

  He heaved out a sigh. “I had hoped that you might see the truth.”

  “I do see the truth, and it’s that I have to stop you.”

  “Shame,” he said before clapping his hands together once more.

  The room shook again, and he began to chant. Both Dille and Ain released their arrows at the man while Athar charged Valatos, who had somehow gotten a dagger into his only hand again. But the bolts glanced away, and black liquid began to bubble up from the floor, reminding Eist of that same pool that had corrupted the prisoners the year before.

  Eist coiled, ready to fling herself at the sorcerer once more. Sure, he was powerful, and sure, she was feeling more than a bit weak, but she remembered that he wasn’t nearly as inclined for physical battle as she was. If she could just get in close and not allow him to use a spell, then maybe she could get him to stop chanting.

  Because she could tell that he had to stop chanting. A great and terrible sort of power was building in the air—the type of disturbance that could level a city or change the course of everything for the worse.

  She lunged, dagger ready to strike, only for the room to shake again and the floor within the circle to crumble away. Yacrist barely managed to catch her collar and haul her backward, saving her from toppling into the sudden abyss in the center of the room.

  Once more, she was struck by the thought of too many things happening at once. The door flew open once more, twisted creatures pouring in. There were more screeches back from the direction they had come, growing louder by the second. The black, inky shapes all began to solidify into even more creatures, each more twisted than the last.

  And the chanting.

  Farmad didn’t even pause in the cacophony around him. Each word built upon the others, summoning energy that set Eist’s teeth on edge. She had pulled herself from Yacrist’s grip and moved to go around the sudden pit that dominated the center of her room when light shot out of it. Not for the first time, she threw herself backward, grabbing onto a shelf as the bright beams solidified into what looked like a pool of sparkling green.

  Sparkling, spinning green that just so happened to be pulling everything into itself.

  It started as just a tug, a gentle pull on her clothes, then the closest monsters began to bend backward, their hands scrambling for purchase. The more breaths passed, the more insistent the strange sort of vortex grew until Eist felt her feet start to lift from the ground.

  “We have to get out of here!” Dille cried, loosing her bow only for the bolt to get dragged right into the churning pool of energy.

  “Eist, grab my hand!”

  Blinking grit from her eyes, Eist looked to see Yacrist holding out his hand to her. He was taller than her, heavier. He could anchor her, but she would have to give up on attacking the sorcerer.

  He was so close.

  If she turned now, she would be giving up a chance to end him, to stop all the pain and corruption once and for all. Surely it was worth the risk. Even if she was being insistently dragged toward the center of the room, she was sure she could get into range if she charged fast enough…

  She tensed, steadying her balance so that she could rush him, when she noticed that something had changed.

  The chanting had stopped.

  Her eyes met Farmad’s and his look of pure joy chilled her to the bone. There was a beat of quiet, with just the two of them existing, then the vortex abruptly shot up through the ceiling in a spinning pillar of blinding light.

  “Eist!” Yacrist yelled over everything. “We have to go! Now!”

  It was too late.

  She ripped her gaze away from her enemy, the man who was trying to destroy everything her parents had built, and grabbed Yacrist’s outstretched hand. With his hand gripping the shelving carved into the wall, he pulled them toward the others. Eist busied herself with slashing at any monsters who tried to grab at or attack them despite the insistent portal pulling them back.

  She allowed herself to watch once, and only once, as one of them disappeared into the pool. It was surprisingly similar to watching someone dive into a churning lake, if that lake was insistently sucking in everything around it.

  The others were braced against Gaius, who had dug his claws into the floor and was trembling as he held them steady. As for Fior, he was still gripping the bottom of her tunic as if it was his last lifeline. And for the moment, she supposed it was.

  The closer they got to the edge of the room, the less violent the suction of the vortex became. Once they were close enough, Athar grabbed the front of Yacrist’s clothing and hauled the three of them right over Gaius’s back.

  “We need to get out of here right now!” Ain cried, his very words seeming to be pulled back toward the churning energy in the center of the room.

  “I… I feel like I’ve been here before,” Dille muttered, barely audible on the edge of Eist’s senses. “I swear I’ve done this…”

  Eist gripped her best friend’s shoulder and shook her. “We can think about that later. Let’s go.”

  They turned as a unit, Gaius helping to push them forward. Gripping the edge of the doorframe, Athar managed to haul each of them into the corridor where the grip of the hungry magic wasn’t nearly as strong.

  “Come on!” Ain said, hurrying forward as he loosed an arrow at one of the monsters charging down the hall.

  Eist hurried behind him, her middle protesting quite a bit at all this sudden movement, when her friend abruptly pulled up short.

  The sorcerer was there.

  Eist had no idea how he got in front of them considering he had just been standing on the other side of the swirling vortex, but she didn’t have time to question it because he was raising his hands with a crackling sort of energy. His entire body was glowing slightly, as if he had been imbued by power that no mere man should ever have access to.

  She didn’t need a vision of the Mother or an ancient witch to tell her that something very dangerous was crackling between his splayed fingers. She raised her blade, not sure what she thought she could do against him but not going to go down without a fight. Her parents had certainly given all they could to try to stop evil.

  Just when it seemed like he was about to release the spell, Eist felt a release from the edge of her tunic. Like so many times before, Fior jumped in front of her, his chest puffing up as he drew in more and more air.

  “Hello again, little dragon. Trying for your special trick again? This time, you’ll find it’s not so easy to—”

  Fior opened his mouth, and Eist felt it down to her very bones when he let out the mightiest roar he had ever issued.

  That time with the healer, then in the forest, even in the camp, none of them compared. The strange, invisible force that issued from his mouth went beyond sound, beyond just pure force.

  Eist could see her friends’ mouths open in a groan as they clapped t
heir hands over their ears, bending away from Fior. While his roar eclipsed all of her own hearing, it wasn’t painful. It was just more of what she was already used to, a muted sort of silence that forced her to rely on her sight, scent, and feeling.

  But the discomfort her friends were experiencing was nothing like what Farmad had to be feeling as he flew down the hall, his hands trying to push back at the sheer power of Fior’s roar. He kept propelling backward, shattering monsters as he passed, until he hit the stairs. Dust rained down and the entire corridor shook as he tried to resist, but instead of being forced up the stairs, as Eist had imagined, the sorcerer was pushed through them, the stone crackling and crumbling all around him.

  She followed Fior as he walked forward, step by step by step. He kept pushing, his roar never shaking, until the stairs collapsed into rubble entirely atop the man.

  Finally, Fior stopped, sagging to the ground with several pants. Eist ran to him, kneeling beside him and covering his head with little kisses.

  “You did good, my boy,” she murmured as he sighed gratefully at the comfort. “You did so good.”

  “Eist!”

  She only barely heard the distraught shout from behind her. Turning, she saw Dille pointing to the stairs with a look of utter terror on her face. Following her shaking, pointing figure, Eist only felt a ripple of energy before a violent force slammed into her and Fior, sending them both flying backward.

  Eist hurtled through the air, all breath gone from her lungs. A hand reached out and gripped her arm, yanking her backward just far enough for a thick arm to wrap around her waist. The sudden jerking made her head spin and her body ache, but her vision cleared and she saw Fior barely hanging onto the lip of the doorway with his undersized claws.

  “Fior!” she cried, pulling against the arm holding her. But it was like an iron bar, pinning her in place even as she fought to get to her charge. “Let me go!”

  “Eist, th-th-the pull it too st-st-”

  “I don’t care!” She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, the sorcerer forgotten behind her as she reached for her little boy.