Ivy's Dragon: Dragons of Telera (Book 7)

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Ivy's Dragon: Dragons of Telera (Book 7) Page 32

by Lisa Daniels


  One way or another, the shape of Kell’s home had been changed by the resistance’s plans, dragging the dead out of their graves. Though it was just their bodies or bones, it still felt wrong, somewhere.

  But hopefully, once they finished their deed, they’d be allowed to rest again.

  The difference between Yarrow and Erlandur remained in the fact Erlandur could permanently control something. Yarrow’s energies exhausted over time.

  The resistance had a real, dangerous weapon in him.

  Kell suspected her primary duty if she got involved in the war would be to protect Erlandur, so he kept his iron grip upon the undead, and sent them howling into the Fractured City, to vanquish the Shadows once and for all.

  Well, not all the Shadows.

  Her mouth pursed as she considered Helena, with the contradictory ability to use ice magic. It must cause her pain each time she went through with it.

  Maybe she expected to die.

  Maybe she’d seen too much, lived too long, and wanted things to end.

  Loras kissed Kell on the top of her head, letting out a sigh. “Wanna come with me tomorrow instead? You can ride on my back and I’ll carry you.”

  Kell contemplated his offer, before nodding.

  “I will. I just need to go and speak to my mother and father, make sure they’re okay. Then I’ll come with you.”

  “Good.” He lightly brushed under her chin. “I find I don’t want to leave your side. I never had much of a reason to care beyond my duties and protecting my family. I feel… better. Knowing that when I do something, I can expect to see you there with me as well.”

  She smiled. I understand. “Oh, don’t worry. You won’t be losing me just yet.”

  Together, they looked across the blizzard-laden tundra.

  Tonight, they’d be making their way across the vast, lonely expanse, to pass the message of success onto the resistance.

  One week later, the battle would begin.

  Kell hoped she and Loras would live long enough to make it to the mountains afterwards.

  The End

  Malek’s Rescue

  Guardians of Lunar Wasteland

  Book 7

  The Final Battle

  Chapter One – Geraline

  Darkness awaited them, in the form of a long sewage tunnel. A tiny glint of fear settled in Geraline’s heart. She stood vigil with the werewolves of Ghost Lake and Dreadwood, eyes staring into the dark twists of the Shadow walkway ahead. The tunnel extended almost all the way across the Lunar Wastes, allowing her hated foes a method to navigate past the cold. The tunnels were too vast to be collapsed or blocked effectively. Even if they tried, by the time they caved in the entire network, the battle for the Fractured City might likely be over.

  That was, if the Shadows didn’t catch them in the act first and annihilate their small army.

  Geraline’s best friend, Faith, stood beside her, calmly polishing her weapon. Although Faith wore armor, it was light, allowing her full movement, since her ability made it almost pointless to wear any kind of protection at all.

  Alyssa, now fully armored by Raine’s enchantments, stood head to toe in black, cursed armor. Geraline chewed her lip, admiring for a moment how well decked out they were. Many werewolves, though not all, wore battle armor, requiring them to be bound to their animal forms.

  Behind Faith was Yarrow of Dreadwood, along with the Surpreme known as Jael, a grumpier and older version of Helena. The rest of the witches lent themselves to the two main attacking forces – Erlandur’s undead army, closing in from the west, and the werewolf southbound attack. All the leaders of each werewolf clan, along with their descendants, led the movement.

  Geraline played absently with a strand of reddish brown hair dangling from the front of her head, staring around at their small fighting force, which held the perceived chokehold of the underground tunnels. Five hundred of them had been broken from the main assault of around twenty thousand or more werewolves, to defend against the things that had been discovered lurking there.

  Everyone stood, wary but ready, knowing that right now, the battle upon the Fractured City had started.

  “Even with that undead army,” Geraline said, touching Faith upon the shoulder, her ringmail armor rattling, “we’re still outnumbered. Even with all our preparation. I’m scared we’ll lose this.”

  Faith turned her dark gaze upon Geraline, and her lips curved into a wry smile, as she clasped Geraline’s hand. “It’s true. Even with everything we have, it’s still a huge gamble we’re taking. It’s just a shame we couldn’t get more clans to join us.”

  “I was the only one of my clan to go,” a deep voice interjected. Geraline’s gaze shifted from Faith to the speaker, and a shiver infected her senses. It belonged to the werewolf she’d been eyeing up for the past few weeks, though she’d never gotten the courage to talk to him. She wondered what clan he hailed from, since his markings indicated nothing obvious. In his werewolf form, his fur shone with a peculiar pattern – black stripes upon dark orange fur, similar to a tiger from the jungles of the deep south, where Geraline had ventured only once in her lifetime.

  “Strange,” Faith said. “I thought you might be a Dreadwood.”

  “He’s not,” Yarrow answered lazily, yawning, eyes constantly flickering towards the shadows of the tunnel. The black veins of her curse upon her arms drew Geraline’s attention for a moment. Holding this point so far proved to be a boring task, but they all knew it might be one of the most vital, since if an invasion poured through here, the surprise from being flanked might decimate their army before it even got started. The Dreadwood witch grinned to herself when a tiny flicker of electricity rippled over her palm.

  “I am Malek of Moonclaw.” The red haired werewolf gave a short bow, clearly admiring Geraline’s reddish brown hair as well. “We are a fairly large clan, though smaller than Lunehill.”

  “Ah, yes,” the werewolf known as Vrin said, his eyes narrowing. “I recall many of your warriors refused the call, thinking it a colossal waste of time. I was the envoy.”

  Malek gave a shrug. “We are mistrustful, and too focused on surviving to care about what goes beyond our borders.” Geraline admired briefly his solid, noble face, the radiant aura about his body. A strong werewolf, she sensed. Strong to go against his tribe’s wishes.

  “So why you?” Yarrow asked, before accepting the dried meat from Faith, who had fished them out of her bag to pass around. “What made you join the effort, when it was against the wishes of your family?”

  Malek’s eyes flickered with something dark and unfathomable for a second, before he swallowed it into a mask of neutrality. “We never really got on. You could say I thought my tribe’s policy of ‘do nothing’ got on my nerves. We claim to be a proud and ancient clan, but we won’t even give other people the time of day.”

  Geraline examined him sharply. “You were exiled, weren’t you?”

  Malek nodded at her. “Yes. All the more reason to follow the call.”

  “Blasted moon,” Faith said. “Well. I’m glad you chose to come. Every single person here helps. I know we were super disappointed when the larger clans refused the call. We could have easily had another thirty thousand or so werewolves to our numbers, if everyone chose to come. The odds would be better.”

  “Yeah, well,” Yarrow growled, her trademark moodiness seeping into her face. “We deal with what we got.”

  “You Dreadwood types are so dour,” Vrin said, a huge smirk on his lips as she attempted to swat him.

  “Don’t you feel lonely?” Geraline said, looking into the Moonclaw werewolf’s eyes, dark yellow with flecks of gold. She patted her side for the food she’d prepared earlier, a smattering of nuts and hardy plants the wastelands had produced.

  “Sometimes.”

  Geraline nodded thoughtfully. Her gaze shifted to the Supreme in their company, Jael, who appeared bored with the topic of conversation. Her gaze was permanently fixed upon the tunnels, waiting for
the first hint of danger.

  “Why don’t we just go in and catch them off guard?” A werewolf asked, as he rubbed his hands nervously.

  Jael flicked a contemptuous stare his direction. The Supreme held no humor in her tightly coiled body. “This is the main entrance. If we go deeper into the tunnels, they branch off into different areas. We risk being surrounded, and we’re already outnumbered as we are. You realize we’re meant to die here, right?”

  An anxious silence fell over Jael’s biting words. Then, Malek spoke, his voice deep and rumbling. Geraline focused on the tuft of red hair on his chin, the pale and freckled skin. “It would be more practical to hold our position until it’s too obviously lost. Then we should retreat.”

  “Not to mention that in the tunnel, there’s nothing to stop them coming through all the walls from all directions. We may as well suicide,” Faith pointed out.

  Geraline sighed, stamping her feet upon the snows that surrounded the entrance into the cave. The embankment and angle of their location meant they couldn’t directly see the results of the battle, and how soon the Shadows had realized they were under serious siege. The enemy knew something was coming – if what happened to Erlandur’s scouting party held any indication – but they didn’t know enough to understand the full extent of the invasion. Hopefully.

  Faith twiddled with her sword, and Geraline knew her best friend was anxious about Erlandur, probably almost as much as Erlandur felt about her, guarding this dangerous chokehold, where the monsters lay imprisoned in their cells, waiting to be unleashed.

  Geraline knew her powers to be strong. Fire mages had a tendency to be quite destructive in their abilities. However, she’d just recently mastered one of the hardest spells a fire mage could learn – the Eternal Flame. Everlasting fire to warm them through the endless cold. Though using it in this context right now would be worse than useless.

  Loaded with additional enchantments, Geraline wondered how long their small fighting force might hold out against any surprise invasions. Slowly, with Faith quirking an eyebrow and grinning at her best friend, Geraline sauntered over to Malek, which of course drew his attention.

  She certainly wanted it. Close up, she admired his features, the bristles upon his face, the fiery red hair, a rarity in the wastelands. Her last partner hadn’t been serious with her. He didn’t want to be mated to a witch, to someone who might conceivably be more powerful than him. Despite the close bond witches and werewolves held, it didn’t mean all of them liked it. It cracked her heart, and made her wary of relationships. Didn’t stop her from pursuing affection when she could. Just nothing permanent. Nothing binding. Nothing that might break her heart further.

  Especially since they might all be dead in a matter of hours.

  The sun dipped low in the sky, beginning to convert the land into its long blanket of night.

  “You look sad. What’s your name, witch?” Malek stepped beside her, his yellow eyes soft.

  “Geraline. And yes, before you ask, I hate the name. But my mother thinks it’s the best name she’s ever come up with.”

  He chuckled, before glancing up to the blushing sky with her. A little bit of warmth in this cold world went a long way. He didn’t seem averse to company. She wondered if he craved it, being alone, without the support of his clan. Geraline couldn’t imagine being exiled from Ghost Lake. People were meant to belong somewhere. Her heart twanged in sympathy, and the tension between them wrapped tight, as if she could reach out and touch it.

  “There’s a lot of things I wanted to do,” Geraline said, mind now reflecting upon them. Such as exploring the world. Adventuring through the jungles of the deep south, and exploring the city of Fordrun, supposedly the biggest city in the world, and the jewel of the south. At least, until she’d seen the size of the Fractured City. The Fractured City dragged everyone down into the darkness it offered. The Shadows lived here, and the few humans that did dwell here acted craven under the iron fist of the ruling elite.

  “Maybe you still can,” Malek said. “It’s not a given that we’re all to die. There is hope we will win. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here. And, well… I wouldn’t mind seeing some things myself.” He chewed his lip absently. “I’ve known nothing but the Lunar Wastes, and the sparse grounds of my clan. Perhaps you can show me.”

  Geraline allowed her lips to twitch into a grin. “It’s a date.” Realizing what she’d just said, her cheeks flushed close to her hair color. “Uh…”

  “Alright,” he said, not giving her a chance to take back her words. “I concur. Might be nice to have something to look forward to afterwards…” he let his fingers gently caress her hair. Though the smile illuminated his face, Geraline caught a deep sadness there, too. One that spoke volumes to her, of someone who had fully expected to come here and die.

  He took his exile hard, I think.

  A bolt of heat struck her senses, though the feeling quickly dispelled when Jael let out a hiss.

  “I sense incoming. The tunnels are teeming with activity.”

  “Wait, what? You can sense them?” Vrin stared at Jael, who gave him a withering look.

  “I’m a Supreme. Of course I sense them. And no, before you ask your next stupid question – I can’t control ones that are under the direct control of someone else. Otherwise us four renegade Supremes could have taken the city by ourselves. But we’re against thousands of other Supremes, so it’s not going to happen.”

  “Oh.” Vrin scowled. “No need to be like that.”

  “That’s where I come in,” Yarrow said. “I can control those under another’s influence. Just not so many at a time.” She then held up her fingers, and electricity licked about them. “And I’ve learned to access my former magic, which is nice. I missed this.”

  “Enough chatter,” Faith barked. “Everyone, prepare!” She danced on the spot, eager to fight. Geraline gulped. Her friend was completely in her element. With her amazing talent, she’d be comfortable on the frontline, worth ten of anyone, and a solid choice for a dangerous defense. Jael began charging up her magical ability, which Geraline understood was a sticking essence. Around them, Jael could freeze the movement of anyone within a certain radius. A possible game changing ability for the fight ahead, when it came to being outnumbered.

  Geraline closed her eyes after Malek morphed into his striped wolf form, which stood at shoulder height next to her. She took deep breaths, trying to empty her mind for the battle. No attachments. No fears. She needed to be efficient, like her best friend. Deadly and merciless, if they were to win this war. The enchanted amulets and bracelets she wore under her light armor crackled with energy, providing her with five, six times more than the magical energy her body contained.

  She began charging up her fire.

  “Let Geraline and Yarrow focus on the long range,” Faith said, whilst Jael nodded, not bothering to talk, content to let Faith lead. Vrin nodded, and he morphed, snarling as the first of the Shadows rumbled through the tunnel.

  For a moment, Geraline gaped, paralyzed in shock. She’d never seen Shadows like this before. Monstrosities of twisted shapes and ominously glowing blue eyes – similar to the thing Echo controlled, but far more misshapen. Some topped over five meters in height. Their auras gave a sickening taint to the atmosphere – but Yarrow lashed out without hesitation.

  Suddenly, ten of the Shadows had now turned on the others, scratching and clawing recklessly. Geraline fired off twin balls of flame, adding a little bit of her explosive speciality to them, so that the tunnels erupted in noise, and her flame bombs lit up the darkness.

  Yarrow, possibly out of boredom, or possibly because it was more effective for her, alternated between possession and lightning bolts, usually interspersed between Geraline’s flames.

  The world around them rapidly descended into chaos.

  “Remember, don’t waste your magic when they get into close range!” Jael screamed above the noise, and Geraline saw the sticking effect apply to the first wave of monste
rs that made it past their barrage. The werewolves made quick, easy game of them. But once Jael’s magic ran out, it would be far closer to a free for all clash of teeth and swords and Shadows.

  Geraline’s heart thundered in her chest, and the adrenalin kicked in, now she had a face to her enemy. The blue eyed monsters seemed to possess no intelligence of their own, they just pressed on, triggering Jael’s magic in their dozens. It quickly became obvious to everyone there that the sheer numbers of the Shadows far outreached their position.

  “Just as well we were sent here,” Jael shouted, her cold eyes fixed on the swarm, still focusing upon her magic. Vrin and Malek leaped between Shadows, their teeth ripping through them like paper. “Looks like the assault on the Fractured City’s gaining ground if they’re responding this heavily. Might have been a disaster if we didn’t know about this.”

  Alyssa, on the edge of Jael’s spell with the other werewolves, pirouetted on the spot, slashing through three Shadows at once with her ancient blade. It was clear her armor was well designed, fitting in with her movements. She retreated for a moment to wipe her brow, speaking to Geraline. “I have a horrible feeling we won’t be able to hold this for so much longer. They’re coming out on the sides now. They’re flanking.” She pointed towards the mass of Shadows oozing through the snow, slowly spreading across, though the main concentration still funnelled through the dark, warm tunnels, the path of least resistance for the Shadows.

  Geraline grunted, lobbing more firebombs, choosing to focus her efforts on the largest concentration of Shadows rather than the outliers. Her skull began to throb with pain. She instantly began tapping into one of her amulets, holding to give her body time to recharge, so she could squeeze out more energy.

  “Stay within the spell!” Faith yelled, repeating the order over and over until the werewolves got the hint, and the more reckless of them edged off from the entrance, which allowed more Shadows to scramble out.

  Yarrow continued flinging black lightning bolts towards the enemy, before in a wave of concentration, she got about fifty of them to turn on their brethren. Geraline panted in dismay when she saw that the Shadows from the tunnels now outnumbered the five hundred strong defense line by at least four times the number. Fire bombs were the most cost efficient spell she could muster. Flamethrowers required a lot of energy to maintain, and wild fire spells required the enemies to not crumble into ashes after they died. Why, if the Shadows just died like any other living person, Geraline might just be the deadliest weapon here.

 

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