by L. L. McNeil
Moroda dropped like a stone, and she wrestled with the levers as she tried to control the dive. Arillians and other ships flew past her as she shot towards the ground, before she finally opened the right sails and levelled out her trajectory. Heart racing, Moroda pushed the engines to full thrust, and headed back towards the mountains.
*
In the deep darkness of Sereth, King Sapora was well hidden from the violence on the other side of the mountains. Though he and his people were all too aware of it, Sapora had chosen to keep them underground and away from the fighting while he had been mulling over Topeko’s visit. It was a decision that split the Varkain. Some agreed wholeheartedly that they needed nothing to do with what was happening in Val Sharis, others believed as their king, Sapora should send aid. He’d had enough of the debate and had finalised his decision, returning to the keep to ruminate.
‘My king, Arillians have made it across the Feor Mountains and into Sereth. They look to be scouts, just two of them.’ A Cerastes announced, dropping to one knee as she entered the throne room.
Sapora considered her for a moment before smiling. ‘Bring them before me. They will regret coming onto our land uninvited.’
Getting to his feet, Sapora addressed the remaining Cerastes who stood guard in the circular room of the inner keep. He brushed down his front before speaking. ‘’Be ready to attack on my order.’
A hiss echoed around the room as they acknowledged his words, transforming into their true forms; vipers in grey, brown, and black scales, the horns above their eyebrows marking them as Cerastes, their fangs dripping in anticipation of a fresh kill.
‘The Varkain find your presence here most unwelcome.’ Sapora said. Both Arillians bled profusely from the leg, their bodies rigid, paralyzed from the venom of the attacks.
He knelt beside where they were laid on the floor, his Cerastes surrounding them. ‘What are your names?’ Sapora whispered, pupils dilating as the two Arillians shivered.
‘S… S… Sable…’ One gasped, his windpipe already beginning to close. ‘This… is… Nir… Nira…’
‘It appears she is most unwell.’ Sapora spared her a glance; she suffered from the effects of the Cerastes’ venom far more than Sable. The king leaned forward, listening to her breathing quicken at his closeness. Her heart still beat, but it was fast and fluttered, only her chest able to move as the venom took hold. With incredible speed at such close range, Sapora struck; the bite barely grazing her skin, yet leaving venom potent enough to quicken her death.
‘This is the penalty for your kind trespassing.’ He stood up. ‘But, seeing as you have come all this way, I will show you one thing,’ He grabbed the Arillian by one, stiff wing, and dragged him across the rough stone floor to another passageway.
‘I will be fair to you. I will show you mercy, by allowing you to live.’ Sapora said, as he led his Cerastes deeper into the labyrinth of Timin Rah, still dragging the stiffening Arillian along behind him. ‘You Arillians have always bemoaned your status in Linaria. Complaining about your unfair treatment and banishment from the main continents.’ Sapora made his way down a flight of stairs, crudely carved into the earth. ‘Whinging how you’ve been shunned and mistreated. Fussing and howling about how much you are owed by the people of Linaria…’
The darkness grew around them as they descended. ‘So you fought back, tried to take what you thought was yours.’ He continued. ‘How dare anyone speak ill of you? You have the gift of flight, of Rhea herself. Doesn’t that make you better than everyone else? Prove you’re owed more, hmm? Isn’t that what you all shriek?’ He yanked the Arillian forward and stopped by a tall, wide door of metal, built directly into the cave wall.
‘Life is unfair. I detest people who complain about it yet do nothing to improve what they have. For his willingness to try, I give your Aciel a little respect.’ He brought forth a small, silver key from his outer coat, and unlocked the door.
‘But he, like all of you flying creatures, is misguided. The Arillians had their time. You’ve had your chance. You ruined the harmony of Linaria in forcing this war, and we Varkain—left to slink in caves and hide out of sight—are going to fix your mess. I’m going to have to clear up after your wanton destruction.’
He shoved the door open, and thrust the Arillian inside.
Hardly able to breathe, and no longer able to blink, Sable had little choice but to look upon the deepest cavern of Timin Rah; upon the sleeping Sevastos, with gold encrusted into his scales.
The heat emanating from the beast was enough to melt rock; indeed the texture of the blackened walls was almost liquid— superheated rock which cooled occasionally enough to solidify once again.
‘Tell your leader that I wield the power of the Sevastos.’ Sapora gazed at the dragon. It filled the vast cavern with both its body and its horde of gold crowns; the wealth of the Varkain. ‘If he does not cease the fighting now, I will use all the fury of this dragon against your kind. So he does not get any ideas of somehow overpowering it and stealing that power—he seems to have a knack for doing that—I will use this beast to take the five Sevastos crystals from Berel and enhance its strength, and my own. With six crystals at my fingertips, it is a power too great for any army to threaten, wouldn’t you agree?’
Sable began to tremble as he lay on the floor, his skin steaming from the heat.
‘Release him from the venom. Let him deliver this message, while we ready ourselves for a victory like the Varkain have never seen before.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
‘I told you before that I could not help you.’ The dragon snarled at Moroda, lashing her tail like an angry cat. Moroda had hoped against hope the dragon had returned to her lair, something the ereven sphere confirmed, and managed to land Khanna in one piece a short way from the cave. Without Kohl’s blizzard, visibility was far greater, and she found the dragon resting outside, sunlight glinting off her scales.
‘You can help, I know you can.’ Moroda said, her hood pulled up to protect herself from the wind. ‘You said yourself you know when other dragons die, when they are born; when they fight… you all have a connection you can tap into. It’s just energy, isn’t it?’
The dragon let out another snarl but said nothing.
‘So you can find the Sevastos, but you don’t want to. I understand you don’t want to add to the fighting.’ Moroda tried again. ‘I just want the Sevastos to protect us. Not power. Not to destroy Aciel and his armies, that would just lead to a never-ending war… I just… want to protect those I love from being taken away from me!
I’ve lost my father, my sister, my home. Anahrik, too… so many friends… On my way back here, I saw Aciel himself, he leads another wave of fighters towards Taban Yul, with airships, too! How many lives must be lost today?’ She fought to keep desperation from her voice, but as things stood, she had no choices left.
‘You restored my power so I will not kill you.’ The dragon said, getting to her feet and striding along the mountain away from Moroda, flexing her wings. ‘But you are trying my patience.’
‘Archon.’ Moroda bowed her head, hoping the use of the honorific would placate the dragon. ‘The people of Linaria worship you. You are a god to many. Please, I beg you. If there is anything else I can do, just name it!’
‘The Sevastos are wanderers. They do not settle.’ The dragon said at length, pausing to look out at the land. ‘But they feel the ache I feel. They feel the pain of Linaria acquiring more scars because of this war between you all. The life of Linaria is a concern to the Sevastos.’
‘It’s my concern, too!’
The dragon laughed, shaking the mountain. ‘Offering power and knowledge has always been a risk.’
A flash of bright gold captured Moroda’s attention, and she looked up to see a phoenix fluttering above them, trying to cling to the side of the mountain with its talons and letting out a shrill cry. It scrabbled to get hold, and Moroda could just barely see a tuft of straw on a rocky ledge. The phoenix sen
t small stones and snow falling, along with a handful of feathers.
Moroda reached into her cloak pocket and brought out the ereven sphere. ‘Archon, this is what I used to find you to seek your guidance as Topeko instructed, and to help restore peace and balance to Linaria. Please.’
‘Hmm, an ancient sphere?’
‘Aciel used it to find and kill other dragons and steal their power. We took it from him, and then moved his power back to your stone. I do not want a Sevastos for more destruction and death, as Aciel does. I want to stop the war. I want to end all that!’
‘Your intentions are indeed different to the Arillian. He sought to use my power and that of my brothers and sisters for his own gain, not to help Linaria.’ The dragon said. ‘It may end the battle. I do not think it will end the war.’
‘What about the fighting?’
‘The fighting will cease… But war is not always fighting.’
Moroda whimpered and stared at the ereven sphere. So close to the dragon, the feather and liquid both quivered, and the whole sphere vibrated. She turned it in her hand, looking at it closely, but it couldn’t point in any direction because she was right beside the thing it was designed to find.
All the effort they had gone through to obtain such a simple, yet powerful item. For nothing? When they had finally found this old dragon, this powerful creature, they had moved Aciel’s power back to her. They had returned what was stolen, and the thanks they received was simply not being burned alive. Tears threatened at the futility of it all. She had abandoned her friends in the middle of the battle in the hopes she could stop it in one last, desperate attempt.
She was still a silly, naïve girl. She was still a Goldstone with no understanding of the world and the unfairness everyone endured.
Moroda sat on the snow, her cloak covering her legs, and held the sphere to keep her hands warm. Somewhere along the way, she had lost her gloves—on Jato’s warship, perhaps—and hadn’t obtained replacements. Her bare skin was numb in the cold, and she wondered whether it was fitting she remained on the mountain and froze, before she did anything else stupid.
The dragon lay down and the snow melted where it touched her scales. Moroda put one hand in the pocket of her cloak, and paused as she felt something sharp against her thumb. Bringing it out, her eyes widened at the thin shard of crystal in her hand. It was from one of the Sevastos stones back in Berel. She’d forgotten it had splintered off at her touch and Topeko had told her to hold onto it for good luck. Moroda held it up and watched blue and green light emanate from the shard and reflect on the white snow all around her. In her other hand, she still held the ereven sphere, and in a heartbeat, another idea hit her.
Moroda twisted the top and bottom halves of the ereven sphere, splitting it open and exposing the contents to the air.
Clutching the crystal shard, she placed it into the centre, on top of the phoenix feather, and closed the sphere. She shivered, watching as the droplets danced around as though unsure what to do.‘Please… please work…’ After a moment, it settled, and Moroda felt the sphere grow cold.
‘What are you doing?’ The dragon growled, but Moroda was too engrossed in the sphere to respond.
‘It’s just energy. It’s just moving energy.’ Could she… Would it be possible to summon the Sevastos’ energy to her, instead of the other way around? The crystal in her ring was a conduit. The ereven sphere had the ability to seek dragons, and now she had given it a very specific target with the shard. ‘It’s just energy…’
The wind picked up as she focussed on what she had learned from Topeko and his books, from what she had been practicing while waiting for Aciel to attack.
The dragon raised her head to the skies. ‘How can you do this? It is not possible?’
Moroda rocked where she sat, feeling her own strength leave her as she summoned the Sevastos. She could hardly understand what she was doing, how she had managed to flip the puzzle around, but it was working. She could feel it, and the dragon’s words solidified that.
Minutes dragged by as she continued. She felt like Topeko, and prayed she had a more favourable outcome than the Samolen had.
‘It comes.’
She did not need the dragon’s words to know that. She felt an enormous energy approaching, and the temperature of the sphere rose. When the heat of the sphere became too much, she dropped it onto the wet ground.
Moroda saw a dark shape looming in the distance, and her mouth went dry. She swallowed, unable to speak, and got to her feet. The shape drew closer and closer, crossing leagues of distance with every second. It was surrounded by dazzling gold light, and she saw dozens of phoenixes flying beside and behind the Sevastos.
Moroda held her breath, and it was suddenly on top of them—a dragon of immense size. It had deep, silvery-blue scales and black horns, and its wings blotted out the sky. The phoenix that had been trying to land on its mountain nest took off, shrieking wildly as it circled the Sevastos with the others. The heat radiating from the group melted the snow, leaving the rocks wet and slick. Words failed her at the sight of the Sevastos, and she understood why they were called the gods of Linaria.
The dragon bowed her head and spoke with the Sevastos in a language Moroda could not comprehend—guttural noises and rumbling—and after their greeting, she switched back to the common tongue. ‘Archon, are you truly willing to give this woman your strength? Am I mistaken in my judgement?’ The dragon’s eyes remained closed as she spoke.
‘You wish to seal away the bringer of war.’ The voice of the Sevastos reverberated through Moroda herself as much as the mountain she stood on, and she shook in his presence. ‘You have summoned me with old magic, yet you are not a daughter of the Samolen. Commendable.’
Moroda struggled to breathe as the Sevastos spoke, and could hardly bring herself to look upon him.
‘I have felt across the dragons who have seen Aciel. Fought him. Succumbed to him. Been destroyed by his greed for power. To seal this Arillian, I am willing to give you the crystal I have carried for over a thousand years and join my brethren in death, leaving only three Sevatos remaining. This is my burden.
My crystal will allow you to keep Aciel sealed away. You would not have him destroyed, but sealed away he is no threat, no influence on Linaria. Your own life force will be drained to keep him sealed. Your own life force is the price you have paid to request I sacrifice mine. This is your burden. Will you pay?’
Moroda shivered, forcing herself to look up at the great creature. She licked her lips again. ‘If, in death, the lives of everyone I know will be safe… every parent, every child… then I would gladly die.’ She took a deep breath and looked at him, his golden eyes burning. ‘I will do anything to end this.’
‘So it must be.’ The Sevastos tilted his head towards the sky and let out a roar of such intensity, Moroda thought the world would split. His scales burst into flame, the fire licking up his wings and legs, engulfing his body. The Sevastos dropped to the ground and landed heavily on the mountain. The flames burned violent purple, covering his body and peeling away the flesh.
Horrified, Moroda jumped back. In only a few minutes, there was nothing left of the Sevastos except a blackened skeleton. She trembled from head to toe, and it took all her strength just to walk over to where the skeleton lay. She could not fathom this creature, the strength it held, the suddenness of its arrival and depature. A beast that had lived for countless centuries, a god among men and dragons, willingly gave its life at her request. She sought its power, true, but did not want more death. Her cloak flapped around as the wind picked up and snow began to fall.
‘The decision was made willingly. You have little time, if you wish to stem the deaths.’ The dragon said, bowing low over the skeleton. ‘I did not think the great one would listen to you. You are no Samolen, but you have skill in their ways.’
Moroda ran a hand over the Sevastos’ skull, and as she touched the blackened bone, her fingers began to glow. She tried to wrench her han
d free, but she could not pull away from the bright, writhing light which enveloped her skin. ‘What is—?’
It engulfed her arm and moved to her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut against the brightness, only daring to reopen them when the light dimmed. She looked down and saw the blue-green light swirling on her hand—no, her ring.
Lifting her hand, she saw the stone on her ring glowed a bright aquamarine, and her whole body warmed despite the coldness of the mountain and the falling snow. She had the power of the Sevastos at her fingertips, and knew what had to be done. Calm determination washed over her, as everything became clear.
‘Moroda. You have no time. The Sevastos sacrificed himself and his power to you. I will take you to the battle to fulfil his wish.’
*
In the midst of the battle above Taban Yul, Amarah had taken the wheel of her warship, worried Moroda had been thrown overboard during the attack. Chips of splintered wood and broken glass lay about the cabin and on deck, but the ship was afloat, and everyone on board was alive. The sky pirate had to hand it to Palom, the weapons he had created were nothing short of sensational.
Simply flicking the blade in the direction of an aggressor sent forth a blast of energy that seemed to do more damage than the blade itself. It had removed the Arillian’s flight advantage and levelled the battlefield.
But she was not in a celebratory mood. Moroda was gone, without a trace. There was no blood or ripped clothing, there had been no screams. She’d simply disappeared. Amarah wondered whether an Arillian had targeted the cabin and flown off with her while she and the others were in the thick of fighting. She was barely aware of what was happening five feet away, let alone keeping an eye on the cabin. Keeping Moroda there was her best chance at keeping her safe, but it seemed to have backfired.
She strolled out of the cabin and to the deck, where Palom, Morgen, and Kohl were sat, taking a break after the intense wave of fighting had passed.