Page 9 of To Sway a Prince (Tempting Thieves)

9

WEAVER DRAGONS

" C aein, can you see him? How bad is the wound?" Ramiel demanded, striding down the hall.

"Uncertain. He seems worse today. The pain must have worsened if it him this soon." Caein spoke with crisp efficiency. "He isn't fully attacking, but the Chasm is tearing further."

I followed him. A chill rolled over me, my insides tightening. "What needs to be done?"

Caein's voice sounded above me. "Four wraiths have made their way from the Chasm and are trying to find a weakness to get through. They're feeding off the energy. The dragons are preparing. Thalorion is already leading the charge. Two nightfangs are nearing the surface."

He reached back to seize his silver hair and bound it with a tie. "Are the nightfangs within striking distance?"

"They haven't breached the final layer," Caein responded. The heavy thundering of wings and the rumbling of dragon roars resounded through the tower. One deep resonant rumble cut straight to me. Zephyrus. My attention snapped to the inner wall that hid the passage out of the top of the tower. He was joining the fight.

"How can I help?" I asked, quickening my pace to keep up with Ramiel.

He spun to face me, his expression grim. "You can stay in the tower and avoid causing problems."

"I'm a dragon rider. I can?—"

He held up his hands, his manner growing more stern. "I don't have time to teach you how to battle wraiths and handle the Chasm creatures when they are already hostile. Stay here. Don't try to follow me. The protective wards will keep you here."

Though I opened my mouth to protest, he whisked around the corner. By the time I rounded it, he was gone. Clenching my jaw, I considered my options.

"The creatures that come from the Chasm are exceptionally dangerous, Astraia," Caein said.

I cut my eyes up at the stone ceiling. "I'm certain they are. But I'm not some helpless innocent who cannot adapt. If there is a fight to be had and I can help, then I want to help."

"Quite noble. It seems that when it is your own well-being on the line, you are willing to set concerns aside. But when it is someone you care about, then their well-being is paramount. Even when it is something they love."

I narrowed my eyes in his general direction. "This isn't about Zephyrus. It sounds like this is a tough fight. I fought in the Resistance of Theodas alongside the new king and his forces. I've been in countless skirmishes beyond that. I came here because I thought Ramiel stole Zephyrus. Now you all are saying this is Zephyrus's calling. Fine. At least let me help defend him." I give you my word as a knotweaver that I will not in any way jeopardize their mission," I said, hands braced on my waist.

Caein hummed in contemplation, then sighed. "I will not assist you in finding your way to the bridge. But if you can find your way out, I will not stop you."

Typical Nolche response. Or fae for that matter. Hissing out an annoyed breath, I started to run, then halted.

This was a rune fae tower. Like all fae, Ramiel had his secrets, and this tower belonged to the Sentinels. Everything was about protection. He'd mentioned the protective wards. And Caein had made it clear that these were adaptive. Ramiel had said that they would keep me from getting through.

All right. Frowning, I reached out my aura, seeking out all the wards and sigils I could sense. Some I hadn't noticed fluttered into my awareness. Other points pulsed with a light awareness that might have been a current one.

The world grew silent around me as I drew back into the darkness of my own mind. When I focused, this was a place of peace. My strength was better than I'd expected after all my running around and attempting to pulseport. The soothing and restorative wards must have been doing their work for me despite my being a trespasser. A soft buzzing pressure filled my ears as I spread my aura out through the halls.

There.

A thrum of energy pressed along my mind, sending a chill down my spine.

Clever sorcerer. When had he formed these?

Three of the sigils on the wall near a shuttered window were attached to pulseport triggers if I came in contact with them. Not just any person. Me.

How quickly had he set these up?

The door had the same.

I could undo them with focus. The knots pulsed deep at their center, bright and clear. Getting closer would make it all the easier. That would all take time though.

Another rumbling roar shook the inner walls of the tower.

Oh. I knew precisely where to go.

Turning, I ran back to one of the staircases nestled in the wall. My boots struck the wooden stairs hard, sending dust motes flying. As I reached the stable, I flung the door open. All the cells were open. The purple-scaled dragon stood beneath the hatch, her head tilted back and up as she peered up the stone shaft.

The remnants of a hearty breakfast indicated they'd already been fed. And the special hatch in the ceiling was fully open. Small sigils attached to each of the mechanisms were now apparent, easily hidden and seemingly of such a nature that the dragons could maneuver it themselves.

The purple dragon's gaze flicked toward me as if asking whether I was going to be trouble. Her emerald eyes gleamed beneath heavy-scaled lids.

I held my hands up, palms exposed, and shook my head. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here to help."

She huffed at me. The smoke curled about her broad muzzle, but she returned her attention to the opening.

More gears shifted. It wasn't the mechanism holding the doors open. No. It was lower. I scanned the stable again. There! I spotted more sigils that had been invisible before. A launch platform. Very clever indeed.

Another low groan and a shudder from the flagstones.

The opening stretched high, layers upon layers of stone leading up to the bright blue sky outside. A straight shot, albeit an exceptionally steep and high one. It was dangerous, but I could manage it. Yes. I looked from the chute leading up out of the tower back to the purple dragon and the outline on the floor.

The gears wound down farther and farther, the clacking growing slower as it neared the end.

Hands still held up to show I meant no harm, I moved alongside the purple dragon's left flank just out of kicking range. That long tail with the fur tip at the end might be an issue. Zephyrus could use his like a whip. "Easy, easy," I said, my heart racing. "I'm just going up to help you all. I'm just going to use my magic to make a rope, but I won't touch you."

She jerked her head toward the shaft once more, then chirred. It sounded like a challenge.

Well, I was ready to meet it. I assumed what I hoped was a good stance, summoning a knotted golden rope and holding it between both hands in a large overlapping loop. It hummed and vibrated in my grip, warm and familiar. It barely took the full measure of energy to form.

The gears clicked and locked once more, and the platform shifted ever so slightly beneath my feet.

Knots take me, this was going to be intense.

THWACK!

I barely registered what had happened before the platform sprang upward, shooting us up with magically enhanced force. It felt like I left my stomach behind, and the force of the wind against my face tore at my hair and skin, ripping at my clothes. The entirety of the shaft blurred around me as I shot upward, ever upward, just behind the purple dragon. She didn't acknowledge me at all, wings tight to her body and her neck fully extended.

My vision tunneled. I willed myself to keep my eyes open as that patch of blue sky came closer and closer. The wind battered against my ears. If there was a pulseport trigger up there, this was really going to hurt.

The dragon glanced down at me as we sliced out of the tower's opening. Another smoky huff followed. I tensed, watching for her to spread her wings or lash her tail. Magic sang in my fingertips.

She remained perfectly straight and poised. Her lion-like tail coiled as we emerged, but she did not strike me. The air rushed over me, cool and crisp as we soared higher and higher.

As soon as we emerged, that blissful moment of hang time began. I twisted about to take in my surroundings, scanning and filing it away as I gripped the knotted rope tighter.

A vast deciduous forest spread like an emerald sea, its gold-touched edges flickering in the sunlight. Beyond it, foothills rolled into a jagged horizon, a deep indigo mist swathing their peaks. And there—oh, there it was.

The Chasm.

A gaping wound in the flesh of the world, shimmering with an ethereal pale-purple light. Mist flowed from it. Dark shapes pulsed at the edges, a massive claw grasping outside it. The dragons soared and spiraled above it. Zephyrus was on the outer flank, half covered in tendrils of mist. I remained silent, knowing better than to draw attention to myself. His attention was focused on the Chasm, where it should be. And the Chasm—it was—it was alive. Or something close to that.

I curled my right hand to my chest, drew up my energy, and then swept it into the air, forming a hooked rune for flotation and protection. It seared into the sky, brilliant gold like the knotted rope in my hand. Then, before I could fall from the sky, I flung my knotted lasso over the rune. It hooked into place as gravity took hold of me, but my magic held fast.

My stomach lurched in protest as my feet kicked. It took another rotation to swing my arm up over the golden hook of the rune. Then I clambered up. My cloak snagged on one of the gaps, a few of the threads tearing. I swept myself up higher.

The purple dragon peered down at me, far higher now. Her dark-green eyes narrowed in on me as if to ensure I was safe. Then she thrust down her wings. The great gust that followed was almost enough to knock me loose. Almost. I clung to the rune, the knotted rope in my hands and the cool fresh air filling my lungs.

Beautiful. I adored the heights and the wind in my hair. The only way this would be better was if I were with Zephyrus right now. I cast one more glance at the Chasm and the frothing mist that seeped from that wound. Something was in there. Multiple somethings. The dragons still circled. I needed to get to a safer point.

The tower was only about twenty feet below me. The gears clacked and shuddered as the sliding hatch closed. And the tower surrounded that passage, all dark stones with broad parapets wide enough to march shoulder to shoulder with a dragon on each side. I could practically smell that frosted silver and musky earth scent, though the wind was to my back at the moment. More roars, challenging and defiant, filled the air.

Crouching on the widest point of the rune, I launched myself at the tower. It was a fair distance away, but I'd made tougher jumps onto a moving target and I could always pulseport if I failed. The wind pushed me along this time. With a skidding thud, I struck the stone in between the stone merlons and landed on the massive flat surface of the tower.

Spinning around, I ran back and leaned out through the crenels. The strong stench of blood and ozone struck my nostrils. I winced, my eyes squeezing half shut against the brightness of the sun reflecting off that mist and the onslaught upon my senses. For the first time I realized just how precarious the tower's position was.

The enormous structure was built directly alongside a cliff. The Chasm was not simply in the air above but stretched down into that cliff. Something about it made it hard to focus on or to know for certain what you were looking at. The cloying purple mist spread along like a sea, lapping at the jagged stones that lined it. A single section of a stone bridge jutted out from the tower's entrance at the base and continued all the way to one of the rifts in the Chasm among shattered ruins of buildings long gone. Dark forms bubbled in that place. A claw dripping with something like oil lifted from the mist and fell back, but for that moment, all the color faded from around it. Another deep wet roar gurgled from within the Chasm.

Ramiel strode out along that bridge, his gaze straight ahead and the wind on his face. His arms were at his sides, his hands encased in brocaded silver air carver gloves. Most likely intended to make it easier for him to craft solid and powerful runes. Even from this distance, I could tell that they were ancient. Powerful too, most likely smelling of frosted silver.

The dragons spun in the sky.

Zephyrus! I spotted him again, now in a triangular formation with a dark-green drake and a silverish purple dragon. He was right in the center, wings thrusting powerfully and in perfect sync with the others.

My heart swelled with pride. Look at him go!

It was impressive. He was impressive.

Ramiel reached the edge of the bridge. He pressed his hands out into the air, palms facing to the sides. The wind whipped faster around him, tugging at his silver hair and his robes. He barely flinched as silver light coiled around his hands and vibrated in the air.

Then, unlike in the stable, he started to move to summon his magic. He sliced his hands through the air in a complex pattern. Several feet before him, the runes formed, mirroring his movements with great connected strokes of shimmering light that burned with their own life.

Three dragons swooped down, circled four runes, and then carried them away, their talons somehow gripping them. They carried them out above one of the wounds in the rift. Three others including Zephyrus dove in and defended, driving back the wraith-like creatures that clawed through the mist. Three more soared up into the heights, spun around, and descended toward each of the runes once they were put in place. The lines of the runes burned bright silver in the sky. Some dropped over the mist while others began to come apart and coil together like enchanted ropes.

Sections of the rift came together with the dragon flight and disintegrating runes. Their wings drove the mist down, intensifying its color. When the rune energy came into contact, the rifts sealed into a deeper and thicker mass.

Claws slashed up, emerging briefly from the mist. The three defending dragons dove down. Roars followed, and those three including Zephyrus shot up once more. Dark blood stained the maw of the purple dragon, and she wheeled about at the head of the formation like a commander. Zephyrus shook his great head and wheeled about as a massive blunt head emerged from below.

All color drained from the mist.

Zephyrus and his flanking partners pounced. They drove the creature down. The claws grazed the paler blue dragon's shoulder. It bellowed with pain, and Zephyrus's jaws shot out to seize the attacking limb. His jaws snapped through and cast that limb aside as the beast roared below.

Two more dragons shot down into the mist.

Ramiel carved more runes into the air.

My stomach clenched and twisted as I watched, my skin tingling and prickling as my own magic hummed with excitement. It was like watching a spectacular aerial dance that was brutal and beautiful. Zephyrus might have been gone for fifteen years, but he kept pace with his kin, sliding through the sky with the elegance of a swan.

They shifted between groups of three and groups of four with ease. No dragon ever went down into the mist or carried a rope alone.

An enormous beast emerged, revealing only its head. Crocodilian. Enraged. Vicious deep-orange eyes blazed. Its jaws snapped at the mist and the barrier, thrashing and tearing it as it struggled to force its way through.

Ramiel summoned even more runes and coiling strands of silver thread. The light sputtered and pulsed at his fingertips and along his forearms. His jaw tightened.

A scowl creased my brow. I'd seen something like this before…in the resistance. Fae warriors who were blocked or cursed like that couldn't properly channel their magic. He wasn't using all his strength. Something about these particular runes was draining him.

I crouched down on the parapet, focusing in on him now. He moved at the edge of the narrow bridge with what would have seemed like an easy command if not for the fact I had seen him do more with greater force. He was flagging. His coloration had gone paler as if someone was cutting off his blood flow. The light no longer flared as strongly in his runes.

If I didn't know better, I'd say he was being suffocated. What was happening?

His jaw tightened. His gaze moved along the wavering rift in the light. Then he coiled his hand. He bowed his head for a moment, his shoulders tensing. Then he adjusted his stance, braced himself, and snapped his hands out once more. Energy arced out with each movement of his hand, far stronger and crisper than before. It seared along that rift. The silver light in his runes shone brighter than before.

The deep, bellowing roar faded into a low gurgle. The massive jaws slid down from the largest point in the Chasm, disappearing into the pale-purple mist.

A spasm of fear cut through me.

It wasn't over.

The air grew heavy and tense as if a storm brewed.

Ramiel's hand clutched at his chest. He waved the dragons back.

A dark column of smoke erupted in the air to his left. He shouted some command, but the words were lost in the wind. The three dragons nearest him wheeled back. Up above, the others circled. They roared and bellowed. The purple dragon landed on a broken wall, flung her head back, and screeched.

"Don't engage with it!"

I could just make out Ramiel's words as the wind whipped faster around me. Dust rose around that dark, ominous column, and then…it emerged.