The Spirit Siphon (Magebreakers Book 4)

by Ben S. Dobson

  Endo didn’t answer, just looked to Urnt. “Not as wide a radius as I’d hoped, but the more you drain, the more it will grow.” He uttered a spell, and a portal took shape in front of him—a plane of silver-blue energy that grew larger as he spoke. “Now go. I’ll deal with this.”

  Urnt looked to Indree, and then back to Endo. “Are you certain?”

  “You have a more important job to do,” Endo said.

  Urnt nodded. “And it has been delayed too long already.” He released the shackle on his arm—it had never been locked, of course—and stood.

  “Stop!” Indree shouted as Urnt moved for the portal. She didn’t relent; the shield’s silver light dimmed with each pulse of spellfire she threw. It wouldn’t be long.

  But it was long enough. A final surge of silver flame, and Endo’s shield shattered before her. At the same moment, Chancellor Urnt stepped through the portal, and was gone. The tear in reality blinked closed behind him.

  Indree released her hold on the spellfire, advanced on Endo. His chair moved, carrying him backwards and away from her at an alarming pace, moving for the dark passage at the side of the cavern. She threw a binding spell, lashed at him with a lariat of magic; he countered with a shield that deflected the silver cord and held it off, moving with him as he retreated. He was proficient in combat magic, then. That made things harder.

  A small object flew past her head, landed on the ground just ahead of Endo’s chair. Berken’s nullifier. Tane must have thrown it. Indree couldn’t see the anti-magic field, but she felt it envelop her as she closed the distance, cutting her off from the Astra. At the same moment, Endo’s chair fell still, and its glyphs went dark. Indree looked over her shoulder, saw the others approaching with Tane and Berken in the lead. Kadka was behind, and moving slowly—the machine seemed to have taken more out of her than anyone else.

  “Stay back!” Indree yelled. “Don’t come near the machine!” She hadn’t thrown them to safety just to have them walk right back into reach.

  “It’s fine,” Tane answered. “I turned it off. Whatever was draining us, it wasn’t the machine. I knew it was something different than last time, but I didn’t think… it must have been coming from Urnt. The effect stopped when he left.”

  The more you drain, the more it will grow. That’s what he said. Indree whirled back to Endo. “Tell me what you did to the chancellor.”

  Endo didn’t answer, just started wheeling himself backwards by hand as she moved closer, still trying for the dark passageway behind him. The nullification field died around them—such artifacts took too much power to last very long. Indree felt the Astra rush back, and if she could touch it again, Endo could too. But she was on him now. If he tried to cast, he’d get a baton in the teeth.

  “Don’t bother,” Indree said, and reached out to seize the wheel of his chair before he could retreat further. “We’ve got you. There’s nowhere to go, and you’re outnumbered.”

  Endo smiled. “I wouldn’t say that.” And the he pursed his lips, and whistled.

  Indree heard something moving in the dark passage behind him. Something large.

  A blur of motion from the passage. A flash of light on silver scale. It came at her fast, extending over Endo’s chair. She leapt back by instinct. Before she could get a clear look, brilliant white flame erupted at her, blindingly bright.

  “Indree! Look out!” Tane’s voice. Too late to help.

  She barked out a shield spell just before the flames hit. They were powerful. Too powerful. Her shield began to die even as she raised it; she could already feel the heat, uncomfortably intense even through the barrier.

  Dragonfire.

  It had been hardly more than a second, but she couldn’t hold her shield any longer. Couldn’t get out of the way, either. If it was a dragon—she still couldn’t see through the fire—all it had to do was turn its head to follow. This was how she died, then. In flame, just like Allaea.

  She closed her eyes as her shield broke.

  At the same moment, someone struck her hard from behind, throwing her off her feet and out of the path of the flames. She hit the ground rolling, went over one shoulder and landed on her stomach. She pushed up on her hands, craned her neck to look back.

  Lieutenant Thilde Berken of the Belgrian Guard stood where Indree had just an instant before.

  Her body was a pillar of white-hot dragonfire.

  Chapter Twenty

  _____

  KADKA SAW THE dragon’s head emerge from the passage, and she knew immediately that something was wrong. Those silver scales could only have come from Syllesia’s brood, but Endo had stolen a dead egg, and this was a young dragon, larger even than Syllesk and Nevka.

  What had he done to it?

  The dragon extended its neck so that its head was in front of Endo. Protecting him. Why?

  It inhaled deep, and its eyes flared with silver light. That could only mean one thing.

  “Indree! Look out!” Carver shouted pointlessly.

  White-hot flames rushed from the dragon’s maw.

  At the last moment, a silver barrier flashed into existence in front of Indree. She’d gotten a shield up. It was already flickering, fading. She had seconds, if that.

  Kadka pushed herself into motion, put everything she had left into crossing that distance. She didn’t want to watch a friend die today. Her body responded too slowly. She still felt as if she was wading through chest deep water. The strength had returned to the others quickly; it was coming slower for her, and had drained faster to begin with. She wasn’t going to get there in time.

  But someone did. Berken was already moving, sprinting across the cavern. She lowered her shoulder and sent Indree reeling out of the way of the flames.

  Just in time for them to hit her instead.

  Berken screamed as dragonfire engulfed her from head to toe. For a brief moment, she blazed blindingly bright, a woman made of white-hot flame.

  And then she was gone. Nothing lasted long under the onslaught of dragonfire. All that remained was ash.

  There was no time to dwell on her death—the danger was still there, and Berken’s sacrifice would mean nothing if Indree died now. Kadka forced her limbs to cooperate, raced across the remaining space. She felt the strength slowly returning to her body; it was enough to get her there, to put her between Indree and the dragon as Indree climbed back to her feet.

  The dragon emerged fully from the passage, giving her a clear look at last.

  The sight made her want to weep. It looked so much like Syllesk and Nevka; she could see the resemblance in the ridges above the eyes, the sweep of the snout. But there was no warmth in its gaze, no sense of awareness.

  And whatever Endo had done to give it life, it had gone very wrong.

  Its right front leg was only half there, withered into nothingness below the knee, but it had been repaired with an artifact claw of glyphed brass fused to muscle and bone. The left hind leg was entirely metal and machinery from the hip down. Where the right wing met the shoulder, the joint had been replaced with artifice as well, and some sort of mechanical rigging ran over the dragon’s back, held in place with straps looped under the legs. Patches of damaged flesh showed all over its body beneath scales that had been torn and pulled apart, as if it had grown in rapid spurts that stretched its skin too far, too fast. Which might have explained why it was so large—not yet fully grown as Syllesia had been, but half again as large as Nevka, when they should have been the same age. Kadka’s dragonlings were some six feet at the shoulder now, but this one was perhaps eight, and more than thirty from snout to tail if she had to guess.

  “What is this?” She demanded of Endo. “What did you do?” She risked a step closer.

  Endo had retreated beneath the dragon’s wing; he patted its flank, and it released another gout of flame, scorching the rock just in front of Kadka. She stopped where she was.

  “What did I do?” Endo repeated with a slow smile. “Something quite brilliant, in fact. Thorpe�
�s machine allows me to animate more than just humanoids. It even allowed me to… move the creature’s growth along by manipulating the flow of Astral energy. Of course, there were complications, but my machines fill the gaps well enough. Do you like it?”

  “Like it?” Kadka lunged at him with a growl, her teeth bared. “You deshkan—”

  Again, the dragon exhaled. She had to leap back to avoid the heat of the flames. But why not just burn her? It appeared to be under Endo’s control entirely—why hold her at bay instead of finishing the job?

  “But you really don’t have time to worry about my pet,” Endo said. “Right now, I would be more concerned about my dear friend Wilnam. When he is done, I don’t believe Lady Abena’s diplomacy will mean much anymore.” He touched a glyph on his chair, and it rose into the air, settling onto the rigging on the dragon’s back. The chair clicked solidly into place. “I would move quickly, if I were you.” With one hand, he gestured at the cavern’s rear wall, and it simply vanished. Suddenly the cave opened directly onto a shallow, snowy slope down to the waters of the fjord.

  An illusion. He’d been hiding himself with magic all along, just below the reach of the Guard’s sweeps.

  The dragon spun about with surprising agility, and moved for the new exit.

  “You’re not going anywhere!” Indree was at Kadka’s side now, and she lashed at Endo with one of her binding spells, a rope of silver energy.

  The dragon curved its neck back and burned the spell from the air with a torrent of flame. That was something Kadka had never seen before—she’d known dragonfire could burn through wards, but not that other spells were vulnerable too.

  “Oh, I think I am,” Endo said. “Best of luck to you, though.” The dragon’s wings began to move, casting great torrents of air back into the cave. Its front legs rose from the ground, and then it pushed off with its hindquarters.

  “No,” Kadka said. He wasn’t getting away, not with Iskar’s stolen sibling. Any dragon deserved better, but this dragon was family. Or it should have been. She wasn’t letting it go so easily.

  And she was feeling strong again.

  She threw herself across the cavern in a wild sprint. As the dragon left the ground, she leapt.

  Her hands closed around its mechanical hind foot.

  The dragon’s wings beat heavily, and she struggled to keep her grip against the downward gusts. They rose into the air, the cavern and fjord shrinking below. Hand over hand, Kadka pulled herself upward until she was even with the dragon’s hindquarters. She reached up to grasp the ridges descending down its back, pulled herself up. Endo was just above and ahead of her now.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Frowned. “You never give up, do you, orc? It’s quite bothersome.” He spoke in the tongue of magic, and flicked his wrist.

  A wave of silver force collided with her, hurled her from the dragon’s back.

  Kadka fell.

  The waters of the fjord raced toward her, but they wouldn’t be deep enough to break her fall. She was too close to the shore, to the cavern. She tried to angle herself further toward the depths, but she didn’t know if it was going to make the difference.

  Either way, this was going to hurt.

  Only yards to go now. She braced herself.

  And then something wrapped around her. Bands of silver energy, slowing her fall.

  In the mouth of the cavern, Indree stood with her hand outstretched toward Kadka, her brow creased with concentration.

  Kadka splashed down gently just off the shore, caught herself on her hands as ice-cold water lapped up her legs. Carver rushed to her side, reached down to help her up.

  “Are you alright?” he asked as she climbed to her feet. “Any damage done?”

  Kadka shook her head, pulled away, clenched her fists. It was cold, standing there in damp clothes in the winter air, but her fury staved off what her orcish hide couldn’t. “He is gone. We let him go, again. After what he does to this dragon.”

  Carver put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Kadka. I should have known he’d be ready for us. Should have had a better plan.”

  “Is hard to plan for this.” She didn’t blame Carver. None of them had been ready. “Feels like he knows we will come, is waiting for us. Only uses dragonfire to kill when he needs to escape—doesn’t burn me when he could have after. Wants us alive.”

  “I agree,” said Carver. “I just don’t know why. I feel like we’re playing into his hands somehow, and I don’t like it.”

  “I am not playing,” Kadka said, clenching her fists. “He hurts my family too many times. Is his turn to hurt now.” She meant it, but the threat felt empty just then. Endo was already gone, and she had no way to follow. She hung her head. “Before we go, I make a promise to Iskar that I will find what happens to stolen egg. Stop Endo before he uses it for… for this.” She hadn’t actually imagined it would be this specifically, but she’d said she’d stop him, and she’d failed. Iskar had lost so much already, and she’d let him down. “How do I say this to him?”

  “I wish I knew. Finding the words is never easy.” Carver glanced over his shoulder, then. At Indree.

  Kadka followed his gaze. Indree had turned back into the cavern, heading for Berken’s ashes. Her head was low, her back tight. She’d just watched a woman die saving her life. That was a hard burden to bear.

  “Go,” Kadka said. He couldn’t give her the answers she wanted anyway; she was going to have to come up with those herself. “Is not me who needs you now. And is not words she needs. Just you.”

  “I just wish I could do something to fix it.” Carver spread his hands. “But what would? You’re right. There’s no fixing this.” With that, he turned and strode back into the cavern.

  With a heavy sigh, Kadka set to wringing the water out of her rapidly freezing clothes as best she could.

  _____

  Tane approached Indree from behind. Her head was bowed; she didn’t turn to look. Tinga stood opposite her, staring with wide-eyed horror at the grey-white pile of ash between them.

  He came to a stop beside Indree, gingerly put his arm around her. She leaned into him, very slightly. He squeezed her, hard. Proving to himself that she was still there. That he hadn’t lost her, however close it had been. He didn’t say anything; didn’t know what to say. Manipulating people was easy. Lying, he could do. But how to make this better—that was beyond him.

  “I told her we’d stop him,” Indree said softly.

  Tane shook his head. “Don’t do that to yourself. This wasn’t your fault, Indree.”

  She tensed against him. “I told her we’d stop him, and she believed me. She didn’t have to be here. She could have turned me in to the Guard for any number of things. But I told her we were the only ones who could stop Endo. That’s why she did this.”

  Tinga looked up at them then, tears on her cheeks. “She saved you. And the last thing I told her was basically that I didn’t trust her.”

  “You didn’t know,” Tane said. “None of us did. How could we? Too much distance between our lives and hers. We did the best we could with that, and so did she. But we didn’t kill her. Endo did.”

  “You’re right.” Indree swallowed, turned to look at him. A spark of determination kindled behind the moisture in her eyes. “He did. And now we are going to stop him. She believed me when I told her we would. She died believing me. I don’t intend to make it a lie. I owe that to her.”

  Tane drew her into his arms, held her tight. “We will,” he said. “For her. Because you’re still here, and that means I owe her something too.” He’d barely known Thilde Berken, really, but he would never stop being grateful to her for that.

  Across from them, Tinga nodded and stuck out her chin. “He tricked those people into thinking he had some hope to offer, and then he murdered them. We’re not letting him get away with that.”

  Indree pulled away, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, straightened her back. “Then we need to get moving,” she said. “I
hate to trust anything from Endo, but he was right—we need to find Urnt before anything else. Whatever that machine did to him, he’s not going to use it for anything good. And he’s got a pretty big head start.”

  Kadka came up from behind to stand beside Tane. Her clothes were wet, the white fur on the backs of her arms matted and dripping, but the fierceness in her eyes was unmistakable. “Need to know what magic is done to him,” she pointed out. “Might tell us where he goes with it. So I can find him there.” She clenched her fists until her knuckles cracked.

  These three women Tane cared about more than anyone in the world had all just suffered devastating blows, and they were still standing, still ready to fight. They didn’t need his stumbling attempts at comfort anymore. They needed to do something about it. The best thing he could do for them now was to find a way to make that happen.

  “Come on, then,” he said, and strode towards the machine Endo had left behind. “Let’s figure this out.”

  It was the same as the machines he’d dealt with before, the same basic design with the same brass containment sphere atop it. It might actually have been the same one that Endo had stolen from Thorpe’s lab—it would have been hard to smuggle into Belgrier, but building a new one here wouldn’t have been much easier. Tane knelt beside the panel that held the machine’s scrolls. The answers had to be in there, somewhere.

  “Here’s what we know,” he said as he pulled the panel open. “Endo’s used this machine to do something to Urnt, something that lets him drain the Astral essence of people near him. And it only targets the non-magical.”

  “How?” Tinga asked with a frown. “That’s supposed to be impossible to detect. Even at the University admissions tests the best they can do is ask people to try to move a piece of ancryst.”

  “I don’t know,” said Tane. “The only way I got into the University was by taking advantage of the fact that they couldn’t tell I had no magic. But this machine can access the Astra directly. That opens up options that didn’t exist before.” As he spoke, he pulled the scrolls from their copper brackets. Three of them. More than he could go through by himself. Luckily, he wasn’t the only one there with University education. He offered scrolls to Indree and Tinga. “We’re going to have to read fast. Skim for what looks important or relevant.”