Iskar nodded, placed a silver-clawed hand along the side of the dragon’s snout. His eyes closed, briefly, and then opened wide. “There’s something there.” He looked to the little ones. “Reach out. Try to find it. The Astral bond that connects us.”
“I… I think I feel it,” Syllesk said. Nevka inclined his big head in agreement.
“Hold that connection,” said Iskar. “Let it feel what it should have known from the beginning. That it has a place, a family.” Tears formed at the corner of his sapphire eyes, streaked back along his cheeks and away into the wind. “I am sorry this happened to you, little one. It was never your fault. I should have protected you. I wish I could have given you the life you should have had.”
Syllesk and Nevka butted their heads in to nuzzle their lost sibling, rubbing against its neck. It showed no sign that it felt anything, that it even knew they were there.
“You’re one of us,” Syllesk said. “You should never have been taken away. It wasn’t fair.” She looked up, then, at Iskar. “It should have a name. It would have, if…”
“Vladak,” Nevka said, before Iskar could answer. It wasn’t a question; he said it like it was the only thing that made sense. “It should be Vladak.”
Iskar nodded, with a sad smile. “A good choice.” He stroked a hand along the dragon’s jaw, looked it in the eyes. “Your name is Vladak. For your uncle.”
And as he said it, a ripple passed underneath Kadka where she gripped the dragon’s neck—a shiver, running through its body. Its pupils narrowed, just slightly.
“Is working, I think.” Kadka grinned wide. “Little Vladak is listening.”
“I feel it!” Syllesk said. “Something is differ—”
And then the dragon—Vladak, now—thrashed, hard. Something was wrong. Kadka was nearly thrown loose, wrapped both arms tight around Vladak’s neck to hold on.
From Nevka’s back, Carver pointed upward. “There! Watch out!”
Vladak raked claws at Iskar and the little ones, forcing them back, and then reared in the air and rose up.
Toward Endo Stooke.
Kadka held tight as Endo descended toward her in his chair, levitation glyphs guiding him into place on Vladak’s back. He held her talisman clutched in his hand. The wheels of his chair clicked back into their harness. His magic was back. He was in control again.
Vladak inhaled once more, swelling with dragonfire. Turned to face Iskar and the little ones.
Kadka had no Astral connection with this poor stolen child, not the way the rest of her family did. But she was still near enough to be heard over the wind, and they weren’t. She could feel Syllesk and Nevka, even at this distance; not rage anymore, but that tingling Astral warmth that felt like life and love and hope. And hope was all she had, now. Hope that Vladak could feel them too. That they had awakened whatever remained of the dragon that might have been. That something inside was still listening.
She tightened her grip on Vladak’s neck, laid her cheek against the dragon’s great silver head. “I am not part of you, like they are,” she murmured into a huge silver ear. “But I am family. Is no time now to show you love the way you should know, but I love you still. Always. Whatever he makes you do, nothing will change this.”
Vladak tensed, ready to exhale.
And hesitated.
“What are you waiting for?” Endo demanded. “Kill them!”
But Vladak held back, head bowed. And now another, closer warmth bloomed in Kadka’s breast, tingled over her skin.
The presence of a dragon.
“Yes!” she said, tightening her embrace. “I feel you now. More than just his tool to hurt who he wants to hurt. You are not his. You are ours. Our little one. Be who you are, not who he makes you. Please.”
“Enough!” Endo shouted. “Whatever nonsense you’re whispering about, it’s over!” He thrust a hand at Kadka, fingers outstretched, and spat a word of magic.
Silver force tore Kadka away from Vladak’s neck and hurled her into the sky.
But even as she fell, she saw that Endo was too late.
Between Vladak’s scales, terribly stretched flesh began to glow with silver light, faint at first but pulsing brighter and brighter. The tingling warmth in Kadka’s chest roared into a bonfire, but no pain came with it. Only life, and love, and hope. Astral brilliance swallowed Endo, Iskar, the little ones, all that Kadka could see. Silver filled the sky like a star had fallen to the earth. She had seen this before, felt it before. When Iskar’s mother had returned to the Astra.
Vladak had decided who to be.
Kadka smiled as she fell. It was out of her hands now. Syllesk or Nevka would catch her if they could, but even if not, her little one was free. Her dragon, as much as any of the others. It wasn’t the freedom she’d wished for, hoped for—that was impossible, after the damage Endo had done. But even after all that suffering, her little Vladak had found the strength to make a choice that didn’t belong to someone else. To choose an ending. She only wished she’d had the chance to say how proud that made her.
The beautiful fire that had been Vladak faded inside her, and died.
A moment later, the first shockwave hit.
Rolling from the center of that silver light, a concussion of Astral force crashed against Kadka’s body, knocked the breath from her lungs. Seconds later, another one slammed into her, and another, sending her spinning wildly through the air.
This wasn’t like Syllesia’s gentle disappearance. Iskar had guessed that Endo was forcing Vladak to channel more Astral power than a living dragon could, and if that was true Kadka supposed that power had to go somewhere. All the violence of a short, brutal almost-life, released at once in death. And as another wave of force buffeted Kadka through the sky, away from Syllesk and Nevka, the warmth of their presence vanished from her breast.
In its absence, the cold of the siphon flooded back in.
She could only see what was happening above in brief glimpses as she tumbled downward. The silver light was fading. Three pieces of brass were all that remained of Vladak—two mechanical legs and a wing joint, falling from the sky. She couldn’t find Endo, couldn’t tell if he’d been killed in the blast or gotten away in his chair. The little ones were there, looked unharmed—and hopefully Carver and Iskar too, though she couldn’t see well enough to tell—but they’d been thrown back by waves of Astral force.
Thrown in the opposite direction from Kadka, too far for their Astral presence and protection to reach.
Too far away to have any hope of catching her.
Another concussion hit her, spun her around. Below, the seawall was closer and closer by the second. Grey closed in around the edges of her sight as the siphon did its work. She didn’t close her eyes. There was no point hiding from it—one thing or the other would take her soon. And besides, she liked the way the world looked from above. Wanted to appreciate it while she could, before the colors went away.
She just hoped she’d hit the ground first.
Chapter Twenty-two
_____
INDREE LOOKED UP when the fire didn’t come, and saw Syllesk and Nevka yank Endo’s dragon back. A gout of diverted silver flame roared past, mere yards above her head. The dragon tore itself free and circled back for another pass.
At her feet, Durren was trying to crawl away, making little headway on the bloody ruin of his knee. She stepped on his back.
“Please,” he begged. “He’s going to try again. You can’t keep me—”
Indree cut him off with a short incantation, reached down to pull his head up by the chin. With two fingers, she touched his forehead, and silver light flashed around the point of contact. His eyes rolled back, and he fell still. Unconscious. An effective daze spell required a complex combination of divination and evocation, and a considerable amount of Astral power. Not something she could rely on in a fight, but worth it to shut Durren up now that she had a moment to focus.
A moment she shouldn’t have had, it occurred to her. With their would-be emp
eror flying to their aid on dragonback, why weren’t the knights pressing the attack? Glancing down at Durren, the answer was obvious.
He wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to burn.
While everyone around her watched the skies, Indree looked to the enemy. The Knights of the Emperor and their bluecap allies were backing off, retreating from the area the dragon had nearly incinerated. Giving up ground, leaving only the big golems behind to fight. And the defenders were too busy looking for cover to notice, or wasting time throwing up shields, just as Indree had. It was all pointless. None of it would stop dragonfire. Either Syllesk and Nevka would protect them, or the fire would come—there was nothing anyone on the ground could do about it.
Which meant there was no reason not to focus on what they could do.
“Keep fighting!” Indree yelled, amplifying her voice to carry. “They’re falling back!” She stretched out a hand, muttered a spell, and threw a wave of force at the distracted knights. It crashed into a confused line of men and women shoving against one another to get further away. Those on the front line were hurled against those behind, colliding in a tangle of limbs.
Indree advanced, leaving Durren senseless on the cobblestones. She’d deal with him later—and if he happened to get trampled before she did, she wouldn’t shed any tears. “With me! Leave the sky to the dragons! Our fight is down here!” In the space she’d cleared, she threw up a shield to keep the knights from reclaiming ground, and kept up the assault with another force wave.
The others began to follow her lead. Mages raised shields beside hers, forming a new perimeter further back. Fighters swarmed over the stragglers, taking down anyone in a black cowl or a blue cap left inside the defenses. Off to Indree’s right, on the promenade along the sea wall, a small squad of Belgrian and Audish soldiers managed to take out a golem’s leg with their combined strength, sending nine feet of heavy brass crashing into the water below.
The knights and bluecaps arrested their retreat at a safe distance, hurled their own spells against the new shields. The golems, at the behest of some command only they could hear, began to trace attack spells back to their source, targetting mages. Faster to kill the casters than break down the shields.
It was simple enough for one of them to trace a force wave back to Indree—the crowd provided no cover from something three feet taller than anyone nearby. It locked on her position and started toward her at a pace as steady as a metronome, sweeping heavy brass arms to clear a path.
Indree didn’t wait for it to reach her. Instead, she raised a shield to block its way, and then wrapped the silver force into a cage, trapping the big automaton inside. It slammed huge fists against the barrier, and Indree felt the impact beneath her chest, a sudden force against her heart. Sweat beaded on her brow; the muscles in her shoulders and neck tightened under the strain. Too many spells at once, on top of everything else. But she couldn’t afford to hold anything back, so she gritted her teeth and started chanting another.
An explosion of silver light cut her off mid-spell.
It came from the sky above the harbor, where the dragons fought. What in the Astra? Indree looked up, couldn’t see the source. Too bright. Too bright to even see what was happening right in front of her. The light engulfed the waterfront in silver until all that remained were vague silhouettes, shadows, and then not even those. It was like a new sun had erupted into being just overhead, except it didn’t hurt her eyes the way natural light would have—it just blanketed everything in such brilliance that she couldn’t see anything else.
People shouted in confusion, bodies jostled against hers. Everyone was still there, behind the silver. Everyone and everything. The golem. And suddenly Indree realized how much her focus had slipped. She felt her shield cage fading, lost to distraction. Metal screeched into motion. A heavy blow thudded against the shield, and the strength of it rippled through the Astra, tore the last of the spell away.
Indree stepped back instinctively, felt the movement of the air as a brass fist swung through the space where she’d just been, heard the crunch and cry as it hit someone else. The light was starting to fade now; she could faintly make out the shadow of the golem, towering over her. It took another swing to the side, missing Indree entirely but scattering several others. Its head swivelled back and forth, searching—still looking for her. Endo’s golems relied on eyes of artifice to see, and apparently it couldn’t pierce the fading light yet.
But in a few more moments that light was nearly gone, revealing the milling crowd—friends and enemies alike, all trying to reclaim their bearings. Too many shields had fallen to the distraction of the light, and the Knights of the Emperor took advantage of the vulnerability, throwing spells through the gaps. The defenders were falling back once more, and there were fewer of them with each passing moment, as the effects of the siphon left those without talismans too weak to fight—or drained utterly dry. More and more of the riven wandered aimlessly through the lines of battle with empty eyes and plodding steps.
And now Indree could see the golem very clearly, right in front of her. Not just a silhouette, but a hulking giant of wood and brass and artifice.
Which meant it could see her, too.
It lashed out with both arms, trying to grab her, and she threw herself back, out of reach. Reached for the same spell as before, a shield to hold the thing in place. Chanted the words to surround it in silver force. The golem bashed its fists against her cage over and over; Indree couldn’t find the strength to summon another spell under that assault. All she could do was hold it in place and hope help would come soon. A little longer. We bought ourselves a bit of time, we just have to hold until Tane and Kadka—
“Kadka!” Tinga’s voice, screaming from somewhere behind.
Indree looked over her shoulder toward the sound, winced as the golem pounded again on the walls of its cage, poured what power she had left into bolstering the spell. Tinga and Cestra were still leaning on one another, still pale and weak, but they’d retreated some distance from the front line. Tinga was pointing skyward.
Indree traced the line of her finger. Only two dragons were left above, now, and by their size they had to be Syllesk and Nevka. The big one, Endo’s dragon, was gone. Not dead or defeated, not fallen into the sea, just gone. Utterly vanished.
But that wasn’t what Tinga was pointing at.
Someone was plummetting from the sky, just a few hundred feet above the sea wall. Too distant to make out fine features, but Indree didn’t need those to immediately know that Tinga was right. That thick tuft of shaggy white hair was enough.
It was Kadka. And even she couldn’t survive that fall.
“No!” Indree stretched out her hand, stretched out with her magic.
And came up short. She was too far away, had too little power left to spare.
All she could do was watch.
And then, from somewhere in the roil of the crowd, a tiny figure rose into the air and shot skyward in a streak of emerald green.
_____
Between one moment and the next, Kadka felt her descent slow. Something corrected for her uncontrolled tumbling, set her upright in the air as if she was standing on her feet. And then she stopped falling altogether, suspended unmoving in the sky. Whether she’d been saved or captured, she didn’t know yet. Either way, it wouldn’t be for long. The blue of the sky had faded almost entirely to grey.
“It would be a terrible shame if you died before I convinced you to come work for me.”
Kadka saw a small form fluttering up to meet her. She knew his voice, but something was wrong. He was colorless, and too dim, like he was standing in shadow. But no, it wasn’t him. Her eyes were losing the light. She tried to speak, couldn’t form the words. Blackness rushed in to overtake the grey.
“Kadka? Oh dear! Please, hold on!”
A prick of pain in her shoulder, and the light and color flooded back, all at once. Kadka sucked in a breath, let it out in a relieved laugh.
“You
gave me quite a fright. How do you feel?” Bastian hovered before her in a once-crisp emerald suit, now torn and wrinkled and stained with dirt and blood. His mask was gone, and for the first time Kadka could see his entire face. A plain face, but kind, with round cheeks and a small nose and the creases of laughter around the eyes and mouth.
“Alive.” She glanced at the talisman he’d jabbed into her shoulder. The peridot mounted at the center glowed a bright green. “Is always good.” As her strength returned, she slowly raised a finger to his cheek. “I have not seen this before.”
Bastian ducked his head as if to hide it. “My mask was lost in the fight, I’m afraid. Hardly the face of a criminal mastermind, is it?”
“Is good face,” said Kadka. “No need to hide. Your name is big secret, I know, but we are friends. Should know each other.” The reality of where she was and what she was doing came back gradually as she spoke. She and Bastian were floating in the sky above the harbor, some hundred yards up. There were only two dragons left in the sky; both Syllesk and Nevka were closing the distance toward her.
Kadka bowed her head, for the third that should have been. Whatever chance they had to stop Endo now, they owed it to her little Vladak.
“They’ll be here for you in a moment,” said Bastian. “I would bring you to shore myself, but it would take a long while. I can’t maintain any sort of speed, levitating you like this.” He was quiet a moment, and then, “You do know me, Kadka. My name, at least. Bastian Dewglen. It is… not the alias I suggested it might be.”
That, she hadn’t expected. Kadka looked up, raised an eyebrow. “Why lie, then?”
“Because it implies that my identity matters.” Bastian peered intently down at his little brown shoes. “When I was a young man, I dreamed of making a difference in the nation I love. My efforts in the political arena were… overlooked. Those who noticed at all only saw a silly little man of no consequence. So I sought influence elsewhere. Put on my mask, so to speak. But even now, no one truly cares very much who I am. The bulk of my business is illegal only because I undersell the prices fixed by the artifice consortiums, and I’m not certain that they’ve ever noticed. My customers tend to be those who could never afford even modest magical conveniences from a reputable source. I don’t have a great many enemies, and I have never been considered a priority by the constabulary.” He sighed. “In truth, I suppose I am just a silly little man, playacting the nefarious criminal.”
The Mage War Page 23