Page 10 of To Sway a Prince (Tempting Thieves)

10

STRUCK DOWN

I stared down at that smoky column. A shape had solidified within it—a tall, long-limbed creature that crouched low, legs bent and ready to spring. But those molten red eyes were what I remembered.

The omenfang.

A chill spread through me.

No laughter rose in my chest this time. Only horror. Ramiel needed to move. Get out of there. Time slowed.

The spectral creature lunged forward.

Ramiel marked out a large silver rune to block it, but the omenfang whipped through it. Violet-black static radiated across its form. It burst through the silver.

Ramiel dropped, dodged, and started another rune—no two runes. He was carving them into the air with both hands.

The omenfang vanished mid-leap, reappearing at his left. Its claws swept down. The two partial runes exploded, showering silver sparks across the bridge. Ramiel brought his arm up to shield his face and started cutting into the air once more.

The omenfang bared blackened teeth. As the wind howled around it, smoke and static merged in a chaotic cloud. The dragons howled and roared. They weren't to help? Why?

I gripped the crenels tighter, fingers pressing hard against the stone. I'd never seen a creature like this. Experience had taught me with brutal clarity to never rush into attacking a cursed creature. Fear bit deep, but I wouldn't hide up here.

I scanned the bridge and the surroundings, making note of the safest points to pulseport in. My aura recoiled from the omenfang, warning me not to go near it. I stretched out again, searching and scanning. What was I missing? What could be done?

The omenfang pressed its advantage. It reared back on its tail and lashed with its powerful hind legs. Then it slashed with its claws and headbutted, sending Ramiel reeling. Something had made it far more vicious this time. The wind howled around them, all of Ramiel's runes exploding before fully forming. The wild sparks flashed against the smoke and static.

Ramiel sprang back up and narrowly avoided a savage slash across his neck. He caught his footing, his left hand now gripping his chest. His lips were going blue, his mouth open in gasping pants as if he could not catch enough air.

A tremor shook the bridge and the earth. It vibrated up through the tower. There. I found the right spot, clenched my eyes shut, envisioned the place just beneath the shattered elm, and—in a dark flash, I shot down from the tower.

My head spun, and the golden knotted rope in my hands burned, my body protesting the rapid use of my magic while near this omenfang. I stood in waist-high grass on the edge of the cliff itself, my skin crawling as if thousands of insects had crawled beneath it.

Up close, the horror of this creation struck me fully. How had I ever laughed at this thing ?

It wasn't a creature. Wasn't sentient. It was just pure malevolence. Cruel magic twisted into a particular form with one singular purpose.

Ramiel countered another attack, his movements sluggish. He sliced his hand through the air to form another rune, but the silver light faded.

The omenfang drew back and crouched, the shadows and smoke whirling around it faster. The static sparked amidst the darkness. Ramiel's shoulders sagged, favoring his right side, but he still fought. Silver light sparked along his gloves and forearms, the air smelling of burning metal, charring rope, and some cold, choking scent I could not place. It coated my tongue, and I nearly gagged.

Neither had noticed me yet. The omenfang's muscles coiled, its gaze fixed unblinking on Ramiel. Ramiel adjusted his stance again. His hand shook as he carved the start of another rune into the air. Even from this distance, I could hear the raggedness of his breaths.

Setting my jaw, I crouched down and looped the knotted rope in my hand, preparing to strike. My fingers shook as I carved three runes into the air, looped them in the knotted rope, and then whipped them straight at the omenfang.

The runes struck it dead in the side, just above its vital organs—if it had any. For a moment, they hung there, but then they faded, dissolving into the darkness. The creature didn't even look at me. It didn't even flinch. It bared blackened teeth at Ramiel instead, the cold scent thickening, choking and reeking.

"Astraia, get out of here," Ramiel said, his voice stern though it shook at the end. "Get out of here before it notices you." The light from his hand sputtered, the rune wavering before it was even half carved.

"I'm not leaving you behind," I snapped, gathering up my rope. "Tell me how I can help."

He barely hinged a glance back at me, but in that moment, I saw pure fear in his eyes. Several strands of hair had come loose from the tie. "You can't. It's here for me. It's tied to my magic. I have to endure until it has had enough. There's nothing you can do. Leave! I can't protect you if you stay."

The omenfang swayed back and forth in its crouched position. Those red eyes blazed, seeming to savor the moment before the strike.

It lunged once more at Ramiel. The runes fell apart before it even touched them, and this time it struck him with the full force of its strength and a double blow, first in the thigh, then in the chest. Bones snapped with a sickening crack. And just like that the creature vanished.

Ramiel skidded to the edge of the bridge with a pained grunt, one hand clutching at his chest and the other gouging at the stone as if trying to scratch out another rune. His breaths were unnaturally fast and shallow like a man fighting against ever-tightening bonds. His left thigh was broken. Bone protruded from the dark trousers, blood soaking the fabric and pooling on the stone.

I ran to his side, dropping to my knees beside him. His silver hair was matted with sweat and dirt, his normally stoic face contorted in agony. The dragons peered down from above, their scaled bodies casting shifting shadows across us—several still circling in the air with wings outstretched like guardians while the others perched on rocky outcroppings or the remnants of crumbling buildings, their burning eyes watching our every move.

"It's all right," I said, steeling my face in calm. "You'll be all right." I pressed my palms together and formed a smaller, knotted thread. This one I bound around his thigh with my magic, forming the best tourniquet I could manage. Painful memories flashed through my mind. Battlefield dressings. Screams of agony. My hands remained steady, but my breaths trembled. "You're going to be all right."

"Have to. Have to get back in—inside." He drew in a long breath, filling his lungs more. But even then it wasn't enough. The tips of his fingers were going blue as were his lips.

"Back into the tower?" I turned my gaze up at the tower. We were at the base of the hill right before it dropped into a cliff, a good two hundred feet from the tower itself with stairs in between us and a stone path. I was strong for my size, but there was no way to carry him without injuring him. I couldn't even get him onto one of the dragons without risking breaking his bones more. If the knots shifted, he could bleed out within minutes.

The massive dark-green dragon with silvering scales landed on the edge of the spear. His long whiskers nearly dragged on the stone bridge, and his scaled tail lashed back and forth like an angry cat's. A long, gurgling roar rose from his chest. His eyes narrowed to fiery slits.

That was a warning, clear and simple. Just one of his teeth was bigger than my hand.

I remained kneeling beside Ramiel, but I held one hand up, the other still pressed firmly over the worst of his wounds. "Peace, elder dragon. I'm not going to hurt him."

The ancient dragon bared his teeth and snarled louder this time. Zephyrus landed heavily several feet away. His own growl resonated. His scales bristled like hackles.

Thread rot! I shook my head and pressed my palms out. "Zephyrus, don't attack. Elder dragon, this?—"

Ramiel waved his hand weakly. "It is fine, Thalorion." His head fell back against the packed earth. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the effort.

Thalorion drew back, his upper lip curling, yellowed teeth still visible.

"I need to find a way to stabilize you, and then I will?—"

Ramiel gripped my hand, his strength shocking. "Cannot." His violet eyes grew unfocused, their color dimming.

Panic rose within me, choking me as well. Then an idea struck. "Zephyrus!" I cried, holding onto Ramiel. "Zephyrus, come here." I trilled the whistling notes to summon him.

I had no idea where in the tower the pulseport would drop us. But it would be far closer to where he needed to be than this. And even if the tower did not provide full protection, Caein would surely know what to do.

Zephyrus grunted, his shoulders dropping. Then he strode forward. His heavy footsteps echoed on the stone, and his talons bit deep, scraping on the stone. He wasn't as confident as usual.

"Faster!" I cried.

He lunged forward.

The darkness snatched us up before Zephyrus's jaw brushed the back of my head. Ramiel came with me. I held him fast, feeling his body pulse and waver against whatever evil the omenfang had wrought against him.

We landed in a hall in the center of a long, plush rug. The fourth floor if I was right about the paintings and incense. "Caein!" I shouted. "Caein, Ramiel is hurt!"

The air shimmered and hummed. "Hold his head. Give him support. Don't let his head fall back." The usually calm Nolche's voice carried tremors of fear I felt within my core.

I adjusted my position, my arm sliding beneath Ramiel's shoulders and lifting him up. My breast pressed against his shoulder, and my hair swung over his face. His weight made him difficult to move, but his fingers knotted against my leg, digging in as if to anchor himself. "Shhh," I whispered. "Deep breaths."

He managed a weakened nod. Each breath was a struggle.

I held him as best I could, trying to offer comfort and yet feeling entirely out of my depth. My cheek pressed to his brow as I studied him. "You'll be all right," I said, my voice thick. "Just breathe. Breathe." At least one of his ribs was broken. Possibly more. Maybe his sternum. I adjusted him just a little to a better angle so that there wasn't so much pressure on his lungs.

The air within the tower hummed around me, heavy in my ears. Something was working even now. Whatever it was, I prayed it helped him.

A door slammed farther in the tower. Something fell, rattling across the floor.

"'ll. Be. F-fine." He struggled to speak.

I shushed him again. "Save your breath. Unless you can tell me something that will help you."

He drew in another shaky breath.

I glanced once more down the hall. "Don't use words. Shake your head or nod. I know a little healing magic. Some runes of soothing. Will that help?"

"Maybe," he rasped.

I narrowed my eyes at him, pretending to be angrier than I was. "That's not shaking your head or nodding." I placed my hand over his chest and summoned my energy to my fingertips. With slow strokes, I traced the runes onto his chest. Slow was good, but it was also necessary because I had to remember what to do. I didn't usually do much healing magic. Lessons in the old solar and adjoining library about layering runic symbols and enclosing them in a circle and infusing with focused intent murmured in the back of my mind. Battlefield healing wasn't nearly so tidy. This felt like a fusion of the two.

His breaths eased a little as the gold light shimmered over his chest. Something wavered inside though. Energy pulsed back, bitter and hard. Not him. Something inside him. I moved my hand up higher and drew another series of runes just above his heart. The same sensation was there, though not as strong. Something was constricting his very heart. The energy made my skin crawl like the omenfang.

I tugged at the ties of his tunic, opening the front. My mouth fell open as I stared at him in horror. Thread rot. No wonder he hadn't been able to breathe!