Alexander smiled, pointing to one of five large grated passages leading out of the cistern that fed the entire keep with water.
“Watch for the drakini,” Abigail said, drawing the Thinblade. She made her way to each grate, cutting it into pieces with a few well-placed slices. She cut through the last of the five when the first drakini reached the entrance and launched into the air.
A light-blue magical rope leapt forth from Magda’s hand, wrapping itself around the drakini, binding its wings and sending it tumbling into the water. Abigail calmly drew an arrow and killed the creature with one well-placed shot before leading the way into the passage to the dragon’s aerie. It was long and straight with a six-foot-deep, four-foot-wide trench filled with water bordered on one side by a two-foot-wide walkway. They moved as quickly as possible under Magda’s conjured light.
The walkway ended abruptly, but the water-filled trench continued under the wall, through a grate and into the watering pond for Zuhl’s dragons.
Alexander appeared. “There are two handlers in the aerie right now. All six dragons are asleep. I’m going to distract Zuhl and find out why my book didn’t kill him. Oh, and your ruse worked. The rest of the drakini went toward the main keep.”
“Thanks, Alex,” Abigail said as her brother disappeared.
She let herself down into the water very gently, Thinblade in hand, and carefully cut the grate from the walls while Anatoly held it to ensure it didn’t make any noise. Abigail went through first, carefully breaking the surface and gently floating to the edge of the water. Peering over the side of the stone-lined pool, she saw a giant room lit only by daylight streaming through a large hole in the exact center of the dome.
Around the walls lay sleeping dragons.
Abigail took a deep breath and pulled herself out of the water, crouching down in the shadows near the pond while she schooled her breathing and calmed her pounding heart, water streaming out of her armor and boots.
Anatoly and Magda pulled themselves from the water on either side of Abigail while she searched the aerie for the two handlers. Seeing no sign of them, she scanned for the largest dragon. He was curled up next to the wall on the far side.
Carefully, cautiously, painstakingly, they moved through the shadows, choosing each step with care. When they drew to within thirty feet of the dragon, Abigail motioned for Anatoly and Magda to stop while she continued toward Izzulft, Thinblade drawn and at the ready, Ixabrax’s tooth held high in the other hand.
“Hey, who are you?” a handler said, stepping through the threshold of one of the man-sized doors leading out of the aerie.
Izzulft opened his eyes and reared up, poised to strike. Anatoly faced the handler while Magda muttered under her breath.
“I’m here to help you … Ixabrax is waiting outside,” Abigail whispered loudly. “I can cut that collar off of your neck.”
“He gave you a tooth?”
Magda launched a handful of smoking pellets at the handler that burned out before they hit the ground but left a cloud of thick blue smoke surrounding him. A moment later, he wavered on his feet and then slumped to the ground.
“Yes,” Abigail said, waving the tooth at Izzulft, bringing his attention back from Magda’s spell. “We have to hurry. Bring that collar closer and I’ll cut it off.”
“Do not deceive me, Human,” Izzulft said, lowering his neck slowly and tentatively.
Abigail didn’t hesitate. As soon as he was close enough, she slipped the blade through the collar and cut it open with one smooth stroke. He reared back in surprise and then looked at Abigail as if seeing her for the very first time. Before she could blink, he snatched her up and launched into a low glide across the aerie toward the next largest dragon.
***
Alexander floated into a large, well-appointed but lifeless and impersonal chamber. He found Zuhl standing on a balcony in the cold, looking out over his vast army in the distance. Without a word, Alexander appeared beside him.
If Zuhl was startled he didn’t show it, instead simply looking at Alexander and nodding respectfully.
“Hello, Lord Reishi. I must congratulate you on your ruse and on discovering mine so quickly. You’re proving to be a more worthy adversary than I ever imagined.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t see through an imposter posing as my own sister?”
“I expected you would, but there was a chance you wouldn’t-easily worth the risk, considering the paltry cost of a single priestess weighed against the potential reward. While I didn’t really expect you to give me the lich book, I was quite surprised by what you did give me. It killed Mage Harkness, you know-a victory in your column by any account, yet also a potential defeat. You see, I have a few ideas for how to use the magic in that book, ideas that probably never even occurred to you, ideas that only a necromancer would conceive of. You may have done yourself grave harm, though I do applaud your initiative. Defeating worthy adversaries such as you and your rather resourceful sister will make my ultimate conquest all the more sweet.”
“You’re broken in the head, Zuhl. You’re going to die, permanently, before this is all over. See, while I was looking for you, I actually found the chamber where you keep your real body. I know,” Alexander said, holding up his hands to forestall Zuhl’s protest, “your chamber is warded, I shouldn’t be able to see inside, but I can. I figured out how to circumvent those kinds of magical defenses a few weeks ago. In short, I know where you sleep, and one of these days, I’m going to walk into that room and cut you in half.”
“And yet today, here you stand, nothing but a projection, impotent. Even if you do manage to kill me, how will you defeat them?” Zuhl asked, presenting his army with an outstretched hand. “Face it, you’re doomed, it’s just a matter of time … and I’m very patient.”
“Without you, your soldiers will lose interest in the rest of the world and go back to fighting each other.”
“So kill me then, if you can,” Zuhl said, then held up his hand with a look of confusion mixed with concern as he examined a ring on his middle finger that was glowing brightly.
“How can this be?” Zuhl said, looking out at the giant dragon aerie and seeing nothing to indicate any trouble, then walking quickly out the door, his guards falling in behind him without a word.
Alexander shifted to the clearing where Ixabrax was hiding.
“Zuhl knows what we’re doing-they might need your help.”
“Understood,” Ixabrax said, unfurling his wings and stretching them before launching into the sky.
Chapter 43
“We haven’t much time,” Izzulft said, midflight. “Zuhl will know I’m free and he’ll order the others to fight or flee.”
He landed briefly, carefully depositing Abigail on the floor, but leaving her off-balance just the same, before leaping on top of Nix, his mate, and pinning her head to the ground, exposing the collar to Abigail.
“Quickly,” Izzulft hissed.
In the same moment that Abigail cut Nix’s collar, all four of Ixabrax’s siblings came awake, roaring in unison. Rather than fight, they launched into the sky, one after the other, flying from the aerie into the night.
Izzulft didn’t hesitate, he snatched Abigail up again, ignoring the threat the Thinblade posed to him, or perhaps trusting Abigail to avoid harming him, and launched into the sky toward the nearest of his children attempting to escape.
If felt like time slowed down for Abigail as she watched events unfold, helpless as she was, clutched in a dragon’s claw. Soldiers poured into the aerie from three different entrances while drakini floated into the aerie from above. Izzulft gained with each stroke of his powerful wings, reaching his child just before he reached the opening atop the dome-shaped aerie. With his free foreclaw, Izzulft grabbed his child’s leg and dragged him back into the aerie, bringing him down hard, protecting Abigail, though not gently, while subduing his son and holding his head still so Abigail could cut his collar.
The collar came free easily
. She looked up to see soldiers everywhere, then the turmoil was interrupted by Ixabrax, roaring in challenge as he descended into the aerie, savagely attacking the drakini before landing in front of Abigail and Izzulft.
“You have done well, Ixabrax,” Izzulft said, “but we still have family to free.”
“These humans are necessary,” Ixabrax said. “We must preserve them.”
“Agreed,” Izzulft said, turning toward a troop of soldiers fanning out to surround Anatoly, who was already battling three men. The huge dragon belched forth a great cloud of super-cold air that billowed out, engulfing the entire platoon, freezing them solid to a man in moments.
“Gather your human friends and we will make our escape,” Izzulft said, turning back toward another platoon of soldiers and freezing them solid as well. Frozen statues spread out in a battle line, terribly lifelike, terribly still.
Ixabrax moved to surround Abigail with his body and wings while dealing fatal damage with his tail and teeth to any drakini that ventured too close.
“Call your friends to you,” Ixabrax commanded.
Abigail climbed up onto his neck and settled into a space between two of his back bone spikes, drawing an arrow and taking careful aim, letting it fly just a moment after she sat down, killing a soldier circling around behind Anatoly without anyone’s notice.
The big man-at-arms and Magda were squared off against twelve of Zuhl’s palace guard, brutish soldiers, most of them bigger than Anatoly and they were fanning out to surround the two of them.
Magda raised her hand and fired nine light-blue darts formed of magical energy, targeting three of the soldiers that had gotten closest. Each took three to the chest in rapid succession, Magda calmly selecting her targets and unleashing her magic at them, one right after the other. Each collapsed in turn, sputtering blood and groaning in pain.
The remaining men rushed them, raising a terrible battle cry as they charged. Anatoly hurled forward to meet them, stretching out with his axe, and bringing it down on the nearest soldier as quickly as possible, sacrificing balance for first blood. The blade cleaved into the man’s shoulder, driving him to his knees, wounding him seriously but not fatally. Anatoly nearly stumbled, going to one knee, bringing his axe in and then thrusting out into the midsection of the next nearest soldier, stabbing the top spike through his belly and out his back.
Soldiers collapsed in on him from all sides. A battle axe across the right shoulder turned him away from his attacker. A sword thrust into his left side staggered him, knocking the wind out of him despite the protection of his armor. Another sword thrust to the back drove him forward, opening his guard and slightly stunning him. A giant of a man stepped up in front of him with a war hammer held high. All Anatoly could do as the hammer fell was lean into it, take the blow on his dragon-scale helm, and hope to remain conscious.
He was driven to his hands and knees, his axe clattering to the floor beneath him, his head swimming in confusion and pain. The man with the hammer smiled down on him, raising his hammer for a second blow … but then he stopped, the war hammer slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground behind him as he staggered to his knees, an arrow through the neck. Another fell a moment later with a shaft through the head to the feathers. He’d made the fatal mistake of separating from the group attacking Anatoly just enough for Abigail to feel certain of her shot.
Magda completed her spell, brandishing a longsword of blue-white magical energy and charging into the fray. She circled just behind the nearest soldier attacking Anatoly and stabbed him through the heart, drawing the attention of the man Anatoly had first wounded. Holding the wounded man’s eyes, she casually circled another soldier and killed him with one stroke of her conjured sword.
A soldier grabbed Anatoly, ignoring the commotion taking place in the background, and pulled his head back, exposing his face to two soldiers standing before him. Anatoly came up on his knees, bringing a knife up in each hand, stabbing under each man’s breastplate into the soft flesh of their lower bellies. Both men shrieked in sudden agony, spasming backward and collapsing to the ground in writhing pain.
The man behind him raised a knife but fell with an arrow through the skull. Anatoly staggered to his feet, war axe in hand, and scanned the battleground. Magda killed the last of the men confronting them with a well-placed trust to the heart. Seeing the enemy dispatched, she let go of her blade and it fell to the ground, vanishing before it hit.
Abigail beckoned to them.
The aerie was now home to a confused, mostly aerial battle with the drakini trying to attack the soft membranes between the bone struts on the dragons’ wings. Unfortunately for the drakini, the dragons were very good at killing them when they got anywhere close. All four dragons stood, back to back, in the center of the aerie and fought the drakini and any soldiers that were fool enough to charge into a dragons’ lair.
Anatoly was wounded, Abigail could tell from his gait, but he was still alert and deadly. A drakini made a run at them, attempting to latch on to Anatoly with its hind claws and carry him into the air. Anatoly kept walking like he didn’t notice the impending attack until the last moment, when he ducked under its feet, flipped his axe up and hooked it over the drakini’s wing, dragging it to the ground and stabbing it in the back of the head with a dagger before retrieving his axe from the corpse.
Another drakini dropped straight down on top of Abigail, crushing her into Ixabrax’s back spikes and cutting through her armor where his talons dug into her shoulders. She felt the warmth of her own blood soaking into her undershirt as the drakini launched into the air, dragging her with it. The pain was so sudden, so unexpected, that Abigail didn’t fully comprehend what was happening until she was a good twenty feet in the air. She dropped her bow, a magical gift that had served her so well for so long-it was useless in this moment.
She drew the Thinblade. Even grasping for it in a moment of desperation, when she couldn’t get a good hold on the hilt, the Sword of Kings still felt like it was made for her hand. The drakini’s legs came free of the rest of its body just below the knees.
Abigail fell.
She hit the ground hard, breaking her left leg with a loud snap, sending a jolt of pain so intense that she forgot to breathe. Anatoly hobbled up, scooping up her bow along the way, kneeling next to her, looking into her eyes and nodding.
“She’s hurt, help me get her onto the dragon.”
Magda took his instruction without question or debate, stabilizing Abigail while Anatoly maneuvered her onto Ixabrax’s neck.
The remaining drakini were fleeing the aerie in the face of the four furious dragons. Ixabrax launched into the night sky with a roar and his family followed him. He flew low and steady toward the crevasse, landing near the edge and letting Anatoly and Magda go to work on Abigail while waiting for the rest of his family to arrive.
Alexander appeared, standing over his sister while Anatoly fashioned a splint.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Been better,” Abigail said through gritted teeth. Then she passed out, overwhelmed by pain when Anatoly set the bone and fastened the splint in place. He worked quickly and efficiently, with a mixture of great care and emotional detachment.
With her leg set, Magda broke some pungent flower buds open under Abigail’s nose and roused her from her pain-induced unconsciousness. She woke stunned from the pain, but managed to accept it and take it into her, mastering the hold it had over her and regaining some control over her body.
Magda cast what limited healing magic she had over the leg, but it was a small remedy next to the kind of magic contained in a healing draught. Next, Magda cast a spell that numbed the pain, not removing it exactly, just making it feel like it was far away and unimportant. Abigail began to relax and clear her head.
Once his family had landed, Ixabrax introduced them to Alexander and Abigail.
Izzulft stepped forward. “I speak for my family. I will hear what you wish to say.”
“My name is Alexander Reishi. I am at war with Zuhl, and he’s using your family against my soldiers. Help me free your remaining children so he can never use dragons against us again.”
“Motives that I understand,” Izzulft said, regarding Alexander intently. “Bargain struck. What is your plan?”
“I’ll tell you where they are, you hold them down, and Abigail cuts their collars.”
“Simple, direct, and effective,” Izzulft said. “I like it. Proceed.”
Alexander vanished for a minute or so and then reappeared. “All three just launched from the aerie and they’re headed this way, backed up by a hundred drakini or more. All three dragons have riders … one of them looks like Zuhl.”
“I’m not ready to fight yet,” Abigail said. “My leg is broken. I can’t even stand.”
“No, but you could ride,” Alexander said. “Tie on to Ixabrax’s neck and he’ll get you close enough to cut the collar while Izzulft holds the dragon down and everyone else watches your back. Go from one to the next, taking the rider first, then freeing the dragon.”
Abigail grimaced in pain, nodding nonetheless.
“I know it hurts, Abby. I wish there was another way.”
“Me too,” she said, turning to Anatoly. “Help me tie on to Ixabrax. If we’re going to do this, I need Magda riding another dragon to attack the enemy riders.”
“I will allow it,” Nix said.
Magda bowed formally with the utmost respect to Ixabrax’s mother.
“You will ride my youngest, Human,” Izzulft said to Anatoly. “This battle is liable to stretch out across leagues … we wouldn’t want to misplace you.”
Anatoly grumbled to himself but held his tongue.
Abigail was relieved that the agony of getting mounted atop Ixabrax was finally over, that her pain had subsided into a low throb, but she knew it wouldn’t last. The battle would be an exercise in agony. Flight required using your arms and legs to remain stable in your saddle … more so when you didn’t have a saddle.
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