Dragonforge (42 page)

She threw the quiver to him. “I’ve always believed in recycling,” she said. “You’ll be happy to know your equipment is 100% biodegradable.”

Bitterwood wasn’t happy to know this. He wasn’t even certain what the word meant, though he felt it was similar enough to degradation that it must mean something unpleasant.

“Time’s wasting,” said the goddess. Another rainbow opened before her, the largest yet, wide enough for Hex to step through. “Go get him.”

Jandra cast the goddess a stern look. “When we get back,” she said. “I want to see Zeeky.”

“We’ll talk about it,” the goddess said.

Bitterwood moved next to Jandra and Hex. He stared into the black rip in the center of the rainbow. A shudder passed through him as he gazed into the void.

He felt as if the void was gazing back.

Chapter Twenty-Four:

Long Slow Fall

“Kill the gray
one,” Blasphet said, moving toward the stairs that lead up from the Thread Room. “Bring Metron up to watch the festivities. The attack of the sun-dragons should be well underway. The burning bodies of valkyries must be falling from the sky like stars.”

As one the twenty women lowered their long knives and advanced toward Graxen. Graxen braced himself, running his eyes along the chain of attackers, searching for the weakest link. Unfortunately, the drugged smoke continued to play with his senses. It looked as if a rainbow had suddenly erupted in the air before him.

Then he slipped into madness. From thin air, a huge beast shot into the room. It was copper-colored, serpentine, and seemingly endless, studded with more limbs than Graxen could count. The serpent writhed, its body undulating as it trampled half of Blasphet’s assassins beneath its claws.

The serpent hadn’t come through alone. He was being ridden by a man in a white uniform, his eyes hidden behind a silver visor. The rider wielded a crossbow and coolly lowered it toward Blasphet. There was no way the rider could miss at such range. Yet as he pulled the trigger, one of the sisters leapt up and hit his arm. The shot went high, striking sparks on the ceiling above Blasphet’s head. Blasphet winced as the bolt bounced against his skull. Then he quickly turned tail, slithering toward the door he’d entered.

With a back-handed slap, the rider knocked aside the girl who’d grabbed him. The copper serpent curved his head toward Blasphet, preparing to strike. The beast’s eyes seemed unfocused in the smoky air. Suddenly, the serpent stumbled. The rider tumbled from his saddle as the serpent rolled to its side, succumbing to the poisoned torches.

Graxen’s eyes were drawn by a motion to his left. He spun in time to find a tattooed girl attacking him. He thrust out his wing, knocking her knife away, then lunged forward, biting her throat with a quick snap of his jaws. He pulled back as she fell to her knees, clasping her neck with both hands.

Graxen coughed as he searched around the room for other attackers. The arrival of the giant serpent had caused so much confusion that no one was watching him. The atmosphere was increasingly difficult to see through. Some of the torches the assassins had carried had been knocked against the tapestries. The aged threads hissed as flames devoured them.

Jandra plunged into
the rainbow gate, in pursuit of Hex and Bitterwood. In her previous journeys through underspace, she had exited the other side an instant after she entered. This time, something was different. She felt as if she were engulfed by the void, falling through a space that was not a space, a place disconnected from the normal world of up and down, back and forth. It was a place without light or sound. And in this nothingness, a familiar voice called her name.

Zeeky? she thought, before she stumbled back into reality. She was in a room full of smoke, with the dead bodies of sky-dragons underfoot. Bitterwood was helping Adam get free of Trisky’s unconscious form. Hex had dropped to all fours, gasping for breath.

“J-jandra,” he whispered, “the air…,” before slumping to the ground.

“The smoke is poisoned,” shouted a gray sky-dragon standing near a blackboard. The name “Vendevorex” was written on the board, the white chalk seeming to glow.

“You’re Graxen, right?” Jandra asked. “Shandrazel’s messenger?”

“Yes,” he answered. “How did you get here? What is this rainbow?”

“I’ll have to answer you later,” Jandra said, fanning smoke away from her eyes. She reached into the pouch on her belt and threw thick handfuls of silver dust into the air. Despite the flames the air here was humid; she knew the Nest was located on an island. She commanded her tiny helpers to gather the water molecules in the air.

“Where’s Blasphet?” Bitterwood asked Graxen.

Graxen pointed toward the stairs down. “He fled mere moments ago.”

Now that the nanites had bonded to the water molecules, Jandra commanded a dozen small, localized showers to rain on all the torches and tapestries burning within the room. A second later the room went dark, with only a few red embers still visible. Content that the flames were extinguished, Jandra commanded the nanites to emit light. A soft white glow lit the nightmarish corpsescape.

“You must be Jandra,” Graxen said. “Vendevorex’s apprentice.”

Jandra nodded. She looked back toward Bitterwood, but he was gone.

“Blasphet has sun-dragons attacking above,” said Graxen. “We have to stop them!”

“If my father went after Blasphet, I must aid him,” said Adam.

Before anyone could move, the rainbow rippled once more and a tall, silver-haired man stepped out. He was bare-chested, and sported long golden wings.

“Who?” Jandra and Graxen asked simultaneously.

“Gabriel,” said the angel. “I’ll take command. The goddess has explained the full situation. Blasphet’s servants fan through the Nest, slaughtering valkyries. Adam, Jandra, since you cannot fly, it’s your duty to stop them. The goddess is sending the remaining long-wyrm riders to other areas of the Nest to assist. Meanwhile, the valkyries are under assault from sun-dragons. Since only I can fly, I’ll deal with them.”

Graxen stepped up. “I can help.”

“If you wish,” said the angel. Without waiting to see if anyone would question his orders, Gabriel leapt over the dead bodies to the stairs, darting up them with superhuman speed. Adam followed as quickly as he could, drawing his sword.

Jandra knelt before Hex, placing her hands upon him to see if she could identify the poison that had claimed him. To her relief, he was still breathing. The smoke wasn’t fatal.

“Aren’t you coming?” Graxen asked.

“Not until I neutralize the poison,” said Jandra. “He’ll be a big help if I can revive him.”

“If you possess Vendevorex’s healing arts, please, save Nadala,” Graxen said, bending low over the body of an unarmored valkyrie.

“I’ll do what I can,” said Jandra, as visions of molecules danced before her. She’d work better without any distractions. “She’s safe with me. Go!”

She gave him a dismissive wave as she turned her concentration once more to Hex. Graxen ran up the stairs. The clicks of his claws were drowned out as unseen gears in the walls started to chatter and grind.

Arifiel aimed herself
toward the sun-dragon that lagged behind the rest of the pack. She folded her wings and went into freefall, undulating like a snake swimming through water, racing toward her target. The tattooed woman astride the sun-dragon spotted her and pulled the reins to guide the dragon’s head upward, but there was no way the gargantuan beast could move swiftly enough. Arifiel aimed for the dragon’s left wing, a massive sheet of feathery flesh. As the dragon beat a down stroke, she extended her hind-talons. Her claws sunk into the hide with a satisfying jolt as she ripped long, parallel shreds from the wing. The sun-dragon listed, losing speed, its movement crossing the tipping point between flying and falling. Arifiel kicked, tearing one last shred as she pushed away. The sun-dragon craned its neck toward her. Arifiel caught the look of terror and confusion in its eyes.

Then, without warning, the dragon’s rider gave one last squeeze of the bellows and a geyser of white flame shot toward her. Arifiel spun, pulling back from the worst of the flame, but cupfuls of the fluid splashed across her shoulders. She spasmed from the intense pain and found herself falling in the same path as the injured sun-dragon. She fought to regain control of her limbs, but each motion was utter agony as the liquid flame trickled across her scales.

The sun-dragon struck the water a hundred feet beneath her, creating a huge circle of waves. Cool droplets splashed against her face. A scream tore from her throat as she forced her injured shoulders to obey her will. She pulled from her dive, darting across the lake at neck-breaking speed.

She glanced up at the remaining sun-dragons. More valkyries charged them and the night again was lit with a web of flame. She needed to return to combat, no matter her injuries. She needed a weapon. She wished she could get back into the central tower to recover her spear. She wondered if Sparrow would ever make it to the control panel.

As she thought this, the island rumbled and the grates slowly rose. She tried to focus on her mission, ignoring the screams of the dying valkyries above her. Burnt feather-scales drifted through the air, filling the night with their stench. She flew only inches from the barbs and spear points that studded the Nest until she reached the tower. Through sheer will she beat her wings, shooting up the stony surface, until she found the bell room. She landed inside, avoiding the bodies of the girls that Sparrow had killed. Sparrow had made short work of them, certainly, and she’d apparently had no problem reaching the gear room. Arifiel could do no less. She retrieved her spear and steadied herself. She felt lightheaded. Blood streamed from the charred flesh of her shoulders. The battle sounded faint and distant compared to her labored breathing. She badly wanted to lie down to catch her breath.

“This isn’t how you die,” she whispered. “Go rip another of these interlopers from the sky!”

She leapt from the window. The spear in her hind-talons seemed made of lead. She climbed toward the cluster of sun-dragons. A cloud of valkyries swarmed them, darting and dodging through the jets of flame. Arifiel took heart as she saw a sun-dragon stumble in the air, spinning down in a deadly spiral to the rocky shore below. Another sun-dragon had lost its rider and was now covered in flames; the burning fluid in the bladders on its back had been punctured.

Arifiel felt that if she could only draw a deep breath, she’d be able to rise above the battle and once more attack with a dive. It would be her last dive ever, she felt certain, but at least she would not die alone.

Then, the spear in her hind-talons slipped from her grasp. The stars above her spun as her path tilted downward. She’d failed to reach her target. Her wings went limp. Below her was the Nest, with its vicious thorny surface. She vowed not to close her eyes. She would face death head on, without taking the comfort of a coward.

Below her, from an open balcony, she saw a human—a tall male, unlike the petite females who’d attacked her. She tried to steer her fall toward him. She could see that the spear she had dropped had already landed on this balcony; its tip was buried into a gap in the stone. If she could land on this human with equal force, her death wouldn’t be in vain.

The man looked up at her with a placid smile as golden wings unfolded from his back. He leapt toward Arifiel. The distance between them closed in seconds. But instead of a violent collision, the man held out his arms and caught her, using his wings as a parachute to slow their fall. He hugged her against his muscular chest as he drifted back to the balcony. He placed her carefully upon her back against the cool stone.

“You’ve fought valiantly, valkyrie,” he said, in a soothing, almost musical voice. “Rest now. Victory is at hand.”

He once more spread his wings and shot skyward, drawing a sword from the scabbard on his belt. The blade glowed red, as if it had just been pulled from a forge, then burst into flame. The yellow fire glimmered against his golden wings as he hurtled toward the dragons high above.

Graxen was lost
in the maze of corridors. He found himself in a room where a human male dressed in a white uniform stood over the dying body of a tattooed woman. The man’s eyes were hidden behind a visor, and his face was devoid of emotion. This wasn’t the one the angel had called Adam. It must be another of the long-wyrm riders. A sky-dragon was slumped on the floor near him.

“I got here in time to save this one,” the man reported.

Graxen nodded. He’d seen many horrors tonight, but as he’d passed through the fortress, he’d discovered more unconscious sky-dragons than dead ones. Hope wasn’t lost. His species might yet survive Blasphet’s assault. At the open window beyond the man, the night was aglow with white flames. He ran to it and looked up, trying to make sense of the chaos overhead. Bodies were falling from the heavens—-sky-dragons, wreathed in fire. Graxen watched as the seven sun-dragons still in the air shot spouts of fire from their heads, frying the valkyries who bravely rushed to defend their home. One of the sun-dragons began to plummet, trailing a white hot arc of flame. Above the falling dragon hovered Gabriel, burning bright as the sun. Gabriel was aflame—his clothes, his hair, even his skin was peeling away in the pillar of fire that engulfed him. Gabriel had obviously been the target of the dragons many times, but if the fire caused him any discomfort, Graxen couldn’t tell it. The angel remained aloft on his metallic wings, fluidly wheeling through the air to target his next opponent.

Gabriel drew his sword back to strike a sun-dragon that barreled straight toward him. He landed a decisive blow, burying his sword to the hilt in the dragon’s gaping mouth. Unfortunately, the great beast was slow to realize it was dead. The dragon closed its jaws tightly around the angel’s shoulder. It carried Gabriel forward through sheer mass, traveling a hundred yards before its body shuddered with the spasms of death. The dragon started to fall but didn’t release its death-bite on Gabriel. The angel was dragged from the air by the plummeting dragon, falling a quarter of a mile until they both vanished in the waters of the lake.