Page 26

26

CALL

C haos devours the hall as the Jarl’s and Emil Beck’s forces clash. Dragon energy is everywhere; it’s a bitter battle happening between the Jarl’s forces and Emil’s as my drakes and I, plus L?rke, find ourselves fighting on what feels like the wrong side.

But it isn’t, as we battle with the Jarl’s guards hard, barreling in and swiping, rolling and dodging, and hammering volleys of Bloodspears everywhere as we defend with fast Bloodshields.

To take down Emil Beck—or die trying.

Because there are enemies, and there are enemies, as we roar and clash, and battle throughout the hall. As the fight rages, Jarl Alexander Christensen coordinates massive attacks from his own dark crimson, black, and gold Bone Magic, plus his guards.

Because I recognize he is a Bone Mage now, in hiding with his insanely powerful magic, just like Strom. It’s no wonder the Jarl’s power feels like a vampire.

And now we’re fighting with him, despite everything I thought might happen today.

As Mikkel roars and hammers back a volley of shimmering, strange white-black Bloodspears thrust in our direction now from Emil, I can feel how desperately he wants to go Wraith. Though we have to fight Emil right now as one of the main conspirators behind the Black Dragon’s rampage and a primary Bloodmate of Litha’s, Mikkel still needs to fight his Jarl for everything that’s been done to him all his life.

Mikkel’s found his inner goodness now, however, and it’s producing a war inside him deeper than before, preventing him from going ballistic as his Wraith. As L?rke roars also, conflicted about backing up the Jarl’s forces against Emil’s, I feel their frustration and terrible, twisting agony.

All of us know a clash with the Jarl has to wait, though, as the twins froth at the mouth to get a piece of the Jarl of Copenhagen, while fighting their old mentor instead. It’s an impossible situation for them, as Emil’s massive dragon-energy goes roaring through the hall, beyond vicious.

Everyone’s shifted, but no one’s blasted through the ceiling and taken to the skies yet; vivid crimson-black and gold runes seethe throughout the hall, giving the Jarl’s side, and us, the advantage for now.

And we need it, as the fighting careens everywhere, vicious and wild. It’s out-of-control as all the Jarl’s runes in this hall push us.

The bone-deep exhaustion my drakes and I were experiencing just minutes ago has been cleverly hidden by those ancient runes covering the roof, walls, and floor. It’s not an energy boost, but like a lance-sharp concentration of whatever we have left—it feels like an insane high now as I fight with the coordinated energy of me and my drakes, plus L?rke.

I know this fight is do or die; never in my life have I been so sure of that, as I feel the very last of my power concentrated in every roll, dodge, and strike. Because if we don’t win, and quick, I know these dire runes all around will kill me; they’re meant to make a dragon guarding this hall give everything they’ve got left to protect it, no matter what.

The Jarl has given my drakes and I this blessing and curse along with his own people, as I feel my connection to my drakes roar wide open. We’re in it to win it, and that knowledge floods my veins like pure cocaine now as I give my all .

To stop this drake who has resurrected the Black Dragon—for good.

Our fighting is furious and wild, though it remains inside the building. The pillars and floor take serious damage from the wild magic blasting around the space, but it’s clear this battle can’t escape the hall, thanks to the runes.

Though Emil and his strongest dragons try to pool their energy now into a single strike from Emil to blast out the roof and end the Jarl’s rune work, that strike goes haywire and only ricochets back, right into the marble floor.

That blast was so hard, Emil’s dragons are on their asses now in a tangled heap as the Jarl and his guards, plus us, roar in. The Jarl’s people are good, boosted the fuck up like myself and my drakes, and the Jarl’s lithe black, blood-red, and gold drake vicious to the max.

As the Jarl slashes enemies to ribbons with incredible volleys of Bloodlances, Emil’s side pulls back into a hard knot in the middle of the hall. They’re outnumbered, many falling unconscious to the floor now with dire wounds bleeding them out, but ancient Blood Dragons die hard.

And Emil has something to fight for, as his magnificent white and black drake breaks free now, tearing through the hall on the Jarl’s talons, trying to personally take out Jarl Alexander Christensen.

Emil’s drakes and drakainas are no joke either. Insane with skills we modern Blood Dragons would kill for, they fight in a hard knot in the center of the space.

Mikkel roars as he and L?rke break free from the melee to chase Emil now, spewing their poisonous chartreuse magic at him. It’s fierce and bloody, as Bjorn, Strom, Baldur, and I also break free to chase after Emil and take him out.

Both sides are wearing out now from the fast, furious fighting, however; everyone sports gaping talon-rips and wounds from the close conflict with minimal flying space in the hall, not to mention the wild, nasty magic hammering all around.

Bodies litter the hall, some not breathing, as dragons from Emil’s side finally die and some guards of the Jarl’s pay the ultimate price for the dangerous fighting-high the hall’s runes gave them.

I’m feeling it now as my heart rate spikes in my chest, dizzy spots flashing before my eyes as a deathlike euphoria roars through me.

It pushes me to fight on, though. At last, we’ve got Emil cornered in one high vault, alone with none of his people. Emil’s black and white drake is fighting hard, hammering furious volleys of Bloodspears and spiked mace-nets at us, but our group outnumbers him.

He’s ancient and has the fighting skills that go with it, but we’re all born fighters, as my drakes and the Jarl retaliate. As Mikkel sprays a nasty jet of acid, Emil misses a block with his Bloodshield. That jet of acid scorches right into Emil’s left eye; he roars, shaking the entire hall with furious power, as L?rke darts in just after her twin—scalding acid into Emil’s right eye, as well.

That’s the strike that does it. Emil’s down, crashing to the floor as the Jarl gets a terrible spiked Bloodnet around him fast, pinning his wings so he can’t fly. I cinch my own spiked Bloodnet around Emil’s throat, bolstered by twin roars of power from Bjorn and Strom, choking him out with our bound power.

Baldur backs us up, terrible now in his bright rage as he floods us with his incredible light, to give our everything to best Emil. L?rke darts in, slashing Emil with her talons and trying to eviscerate his belly, and I see how she’s gone for his balls.

Emil thunders in pain, barrel-rolling as he thrashes her off, only to have Mikkel surge in and rip at his throat with a nasty bite, spewing acid from his gullet. Emil’s roaring and thrashing as my net and the Jarl’s truss him up harder, tighter, pinning him and making it hard to move now.

The twins both add their mind- and body-paralyzing magics to the mix now, restraining Emil further; it seems like we have him, as even his loyal forces fight without heart now, their leader ensnared.

A towering roar of triumph is already bubbling up in my throat—when Emil slaps one big, taloned hand to his heart. I have a moment to see the strange black, gold, and onyx ring on his dragon-finger power up with a deathly crimson-violet light, ugly and terrible.

Then Emil roars with insane basso notes and howling overtones like all the demons of the earth, as a massive surge of magic is powered by that ring.

A concussion blasts from the ring as it flares hard at Emil’s roar. That concussion slams me, the Jarl, all of my drakes, and L?rke to our asses, sending us skidding across the hall to smash into the pillars.

It blasts out the floor all around Emil Beck—exploding the roof from the hall. Chaos devours the battle now, as Emil’s forces receive new life.

That’s not the worst of it, however, as Emil’s dragons suddenly break free from their cordon and take to the skies, fighting with renewed strength against the Jarl’s guards. All of us who were benefitting from the hall’s runes aren’t anymore, as the entire roof is blasted off the space.

As a crushing fatigue suddenly slams through me and my drakes, I can’t stop myself from shifting down.

Falling out of the skies to crash upon the ruined marble below.

I can’t move and I can barely see, gasping for air on my back in the ruined hall in the worst pain of my life. My drakes and L?rke are only slightly better as they crawl to me on hands and knees, shifted back down to human and drained nearly to death, just like me.

But Jarl Alexander Christensen got the worst of it; as the epicenter of all this vampiric Bone Magic, he somehow got the brunt of the recoil from the hall’s runes breaking. With a strangled roar as his dragon, Jarl Christensen shifts down to human on the broken floor.

And passes out cold.

We’re relying only on the Jarl’s guards now as the fight rages far above in the cloudy skies. They still outnumber Emil’s people, and Emil is badly injured. I see now how that’s not enough, however, as I gasp on the ruined marble below, surrounded by my drakes and L?rke.

I sit up as Bjorn helps me; Strom, Baldur, and Mikkel crowd close, all of us needing the bare skin contact that helps shapeshifters, as we try to recover as fast as we can.

Even L?rke touches me as she crowds close to Mikkel; at a surge of power from Baldur, we’re able to stumble to our feet. Bjorn gives the most furious growl I’ve ever heard as he slams up a crazy-spiked Bloodshield all around our group. I feel him draw hard on Baldur’s power, Strom’s, even Mikkel’s, as all their colors of magic seethe through that shield.

A talent I didn’t know he had—to use everyone’s magic so effortlessly like that.

It’s a mystery for another day as we try to recover fast now, however, relying on the Jarl’s forces to chase the injured Emil and his retinue through the skies.

Even as we do, though, I feel something else coming. The blast that Emil sent out from his black ring didn’t just sunder the runes throughout the Jarl’s hall; it did something else, too. I feel that something coming like a hurricane of power and darkness all through my mind and Void-senses now.

Headed right for us.

A spike of black pain skewers right through my head and I’m down on my knees, roaring with insane overtones and basso notes in my voice as I clutch my head and fight it.

As a dead white eye opens in my mind, fixing right on me, I also see that dead dragon-orb fix upon Amalienborg Palace from the skies.

I see it with my own eyes and through the Black Dragon’s also, as the terrible Dragon of All Souls crashes down on the scene. Its diseased black-crimson ropes of ungodly magic sear everything, bubbling like tarry acid, as its bone-sundering roar shatters the skies.

It sends the clouds scudding in a hurricane of sound and wind, as its gargantuan bone-black body smashes the palace, all around the Jarl’s hall. Talons big as cars rip up ancient stone as the Black Dragon roars, hurling stone everywhere, along with its diseased curse-magic.

Shrapnel is flying in a war zone, as the oilslick-black and scalding red curse-ropes from the demon fling everywhere. Bjorn roars in distress, shoving all our bound power hard into our combined Bloodshield now to keep us safe.

Nowhere is safe, however, as the Black Dragon roars, spewing forth its terrible evil, bodies dropping from the skies. The Jarl’s people fall hard to crunch all around us now, bones cracking and blood spouting from them in gruesome waves, as the Black Dragon’s power hammers them.

Within our shield, my drakes and I are spared the worst of it; Bjorn roars like a madman now, pushing every ounce of our power into our shield as the rest of my drakes and I echo it.

Even L?rke screams like a harpy as she pours a ferocious white-green acid through that shield now, making it untouchable. But the Black Dragon doesn’t need to touch us; its roar is inside me, through me, and all around me as it opens that great bone-dead maw and thunders to the skies again.

Indomitable.

I scream, madness enveloping me as everything inside me goes black. The pain is devouring me from its terrible curse-work, from my bones twisting and shuddering, wanting to crack, and my blood surging and writhing, wanting to rip out through my veins.

But it’s also a part of me that calls to the creature and it to me, which writhes in utter torment inside me now. Some blackest part of me wants to rip out and take command of my very blood, bones, and soul—a part of me that is just like the horrible monstrosity that kills the very skies now with its power.

Dead birds drop all around us on the broken stone. Part of me glorifies in it, wanting to rip, tear, and rage into my worst kind of ruin, as that ancient, undead power calls to me.

As the shockwave of the Black Dragon’s call tears through our mortal world, punching through to the Void from its indomitable wrath, I feel how I am tethered to it, and it is tethered to me.

Somehow, because of my ancient bloodlines passed down from its maker, I am one with it. As the Dragon of All Souls’ terrible, multi-faceted roar shatters timber and stone, blood, bone, and everything else, I know I’m a part of this terrible behemoth, roaring like a demon of the ancient skies.

The darkest hell inside me.

As the Black Dragon roars, I feel the last of the Jarl’s resistance snap out. He’s the target of the Black Dragon’s wrath, as I hear his bones crunch and crack now from its massive, thunderous roar, cursing him all through his lean, mean body.

Though Jarl Alexander Christensen had finally found his feet, despite the raining hell of debris and power seething all around, I watch helplessly now as the living blood gets pulled right out of him.

He doesn’t have a moment to shift up and heal it as he crashes to the ruined floor, every fucking bone in his body broken and jets of bright crimson blood fountaining out of him.

Diabolical black scorch curses are riddled all through him, just as happened to my mentor Maryse; but Jarl Alexander Christensen is a black-hearted mercenary, and such drakes die hard. Even broken and fountaining blood, I hear the Jarl snarl, fighting with every ounce of power left in him, as he roars a great big fuck you to death.

His defiance only makes the Black Dragon redouble its efforts, however, roaring again as its gargantuan head descends in a menacing arc towards the Jarl. Still half-skull, that head is not yet returned to its fullest flesh.

As it fixes on killing Jarl Alexander Christensen, I see how the rest of the Black Dragon is not yet regenerated, making its unstable body thrash as it crashes out one entire wall of the palace’s main hall.

It’s grotesque; like a Frankenstein of dragons, it has bone, flesh, bare sinew, and sagging scales everywhere. Without its entire mind yet, either, it acts less like a dragon and more like a wild animal, snarling at the broken, dying Jarl.

Even as I scream now, roaring at it with all the overtones in my voice to stop , it does its worst. As it roars one last time with its massive, bone-dead maw right above the Jarl’s broken body and filling the entire ruined hall, I feel its blast. Like a fell wind straight from the Void itself, that roar thrusts right into Jarl Alexander Christensen.

Cursing his heart, as burned, oilslick-crimson sigils spiral all through his flesh.

I watch as Jarl Alexander Christensen’s formidable black heart beats its last. I see it as his frightful bloody crimson eyes die—as his broken body collapses upon the floor of the ruined hall, limp.

I have only a moment to realize that this was how the black behemoth killed Maryse, sigil-cursing her heart like this, when that massive, dead head swings around towards me. Utterly black and diseased, but also somehow frightfully bone-white, it looks right at me.

And I know it heard my command.

Still huddled behind our Bloodshield, my drakes and I are human, and fucking beat to shit, as that terrible demon looks right at me . As its ancient, dead stare sinks into my very blood and bones now, right into my undying soul, I know I’m damned.

Because something about that ancient gaze is inside me, as I stare right back at it, electrified by its deathly presence. A fell wind of the ancients rises in me, as I feel my inner Bone Magic take command now.

A terrible sensation of midnight-black clarity takes me as I rise from my huddle of drakes—facing off with the Black Dragon. It watches me intently, even though we’re still within our small Bloodshield.

I feel our powers resonate as a terrible roar devours my very soul, the same as its own. Light is nowhere in that power, as I feel my bright inner drakaina suddenly snuffed out.

She’s absorbed entirely into my black Bone Magic as my inner drake towers up impossibly high now inside me, like a night full of endless stars, taking me. I know I am endless like that, as I wave my hand and dissolve our Bloodshield, despite the alarmed cries of my drakes. Stepping from their protection, I face the creature .

Staring deep into its bone-dead eyes.

Maker? I hear its ancient whisper through my mind like a snarl and a sonic boom, and a thunder of ten thousand spring rains concussing the earth, as it speaks with me mind-to-mind now.

Yes, I say, as some ancient instinct devours me, dead but not quite gone, to take it, to claim it, and wield it once more like I did in ages past.

But before I can speak to it, before I can command the Black Dragon to do my will the way that fell darkness tells me I can, another presence thrusts into its mind.

I feel it as a small drakaina shows up on the scene, lithe like a barbed dart, piercing the Black Dragon’s mind as she shrieks like a harpy, barreling in from nowhere.

I barely have time to see a portal close in the ruined sky—before our enemy Litha is upon us. Shrieking with a series of sonic booms concussing from her dragon-voice, she dives right at the Black Dragon as she levels a volley of dragon-curses at it.

Commanding it to attack us, rather than listen to me.

The Black Dragon halts, shaking its head now, as if confused about whom to obey. Litha’s continued rapid-fire dragon-speak suddenly makes it change its mind about whom it’s attacking. As it looks back at us now with death in its bone-white eyes, I know we’re goners.

Bjorn and the rest of my drakes and L?rke barely get our Bloodshield back up in time.

Before the Black Dragon opens its great maw.

And roars its black death right at us.