The Seventh Magic (Book 3)

by Brian Rathbone

  With jarring impact, the Portly Dragon struck the Noonspire. Squealing in protest, the ship ponderously spun, the gaping chasm ready to consume them. Lightning assaulted the rigging, and Kenward knew time had run out. Farsy patted him on the shoulder, signaling he was ready, and Kenward slammed the pressure release forward. Nothing happened. A brief inspection revealed part of the controls had come loose. Blasted connecting rods!

  The howler preparing to take off made him turn his head. Bryn wasn't on board, and the howler was still secured. Sprawled on the deck, Bryn moved but not fast enough. With the deck pitched, Jessub had been unable to release the straps.

  "Hurry, Bryn!" Jessub shouted. "Hurry!"

  Time ran out. Jamming the connecting rod back onto the shaft, Kenward hoped it would hold. Gradually he opened the air tank. After three forceful thumps, the bumblebee came up to song and launched across the deck at an upward angle. Looking left one last time before leaving the deck, he saw Bryn release the howler. It immediately got away from him and slid into the abyss. Staring up from the doomed Portly Dragon, Bryn saluted.

  Kenward Trell's heart broke.

  * * *

  Onin of the Old Guard was a practical man, not prone to flights of fancy. Emotional acts were a good way to end up dead. Still, he couldn't help but wonder his friends' fates. He'd warned the fools to leave, and they ignored him. All the worry was their fault, and he cursed them for it.

  Soon he, too, was driven to reckless action. Flying Jehregard closer, Onin stepped out onto the wing, an especially daring move considering what he'd done to Jordic the last time. Tanaketh behaved and let Onin pull himself up. Events such as this emphasized how different Jehregard was. Full-sized verdant dragons possessed undeniable majesty, but Jehregard had proven far more versatile and self-sufficient than his lumbering brethren.

  It wasn't the length of the walk that made Onin think these beasts had grown too large, though it didn't help matters. The wind threatened to throw him into open air, and he had no desire to test Tanaketh's loyalty. Jehregard stayed nearby.

  Onin had long thought the verdants would be bred into extinction. For many lifetimes, dragons had been mated to produce ever larger offspring, but there was a practical limit. The current generation was dangerously close by his estimation. He would have continued his mental rant but was glad, instead, to enter Jordic's tierre.

  The younger man grinned at him. "Not as much fun as you'd think, is it?"

  Onin grunted in response.

  "You must want something," Jordic said, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Surely you didn't come over here just to grunt at me."

  Again, Onin grunted.

  "Okay. Maybe you did."

  "We need to talk," Onin finally said.

  Jordic had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

  Chapter 4

  The world moves forward. If you resist change, you fall behind.

  --Brother Vaughn, Cathuran monk

  * * *

  Chaos reigned, ground and sky looking much alike. Disoriented, Kenward struggled to control the bumblebee. Even with the improvements made to the design, this aircraft's primary flaw was the ability to fly for only a short time. He wasn't even certain how long. It would become apparent soon enough.

  Jessub passed them on the howler, looking absolutely terrified. His speed remarkable, even ferals left him room to pass. Kenward and Bryn approached much more slowly, and the mystical portal through which Jessub had gone just as suddenly closed. Between them and freedom flew a wall of teeth and claws.

  In that moment, though, the Portly Dragon broke over the Noonspire. Sharp cracks reverberated and echoed. A small blast ignited the explosives-filled coconuts and started a chain reaction. The resulting blast sent sparks, steam, and chunks of metal into the air, overwhelming the bumblebee and the dragons above. Kenward was grateful for the straps holding him in. Farsy screamed.

  Struggling with the controls, Kenward righted the aircraft just as they burst from the smoke and ash. Blackened with soot, coughing and smoking, they escaped the Jaga's heart. Feral dragons would not be so easily evaded; three barred their path. The howler's call was all the warning they got before Jessub burst through the dragons, sending them in all directions. It wouldn't be enough, but Kenward appreciated the effort. Jessub Tillerman was an adventurer, indeed. Tales would be told and songs sung, provided someone survived.

  Breaking free, Kenward knew the victory would be short lived. The bumblebee lacked the howler's speed. The longer they flew, the less frequently the thumps came. Soon he might regret being strapped in. Without thrust to provide lift, it would fly like a rock.

  "We're going to have to bail out!" Kenward shouted to Farsy, who already loosened his straps. Kenward might have said more, but a shimmering orb racing toward them blinded him with its brilliance. What had at first seemed a deadly weapon ready to incinerate them was actually a regent dragon bearing two riders. Catrin rode at the front, Koe held before her, both shining like fire. That same power washed over Pelivor and Kyrien, as if they were made of lightning.

  Focused on the ferals, Catrin paid them no mind, but Pelivor met Kenward's eyes. The skilled flightmaster then did something Kenward would never quite understand. Somehow, across the distance between them, Pelivor forced air back into the bumblebee's holding tanks, and the thumping grew faster than ever. With Farsy holding on, Kenward aimed for the coast. A quick getaway and a safe landing were the best he could hope for. For those lost or still in the fight, he shed a tear.

  Even with the extra compressed air Pelivor provided, the bumblebee would not get them all the way to the coast. Knowing they would likely nose-dive into the vile, twisted marsh if he let the compressed air completely run out, Kenward searched for a place to land. Nothing looked safe. They could either touch down in black water crawling with snakes and other predators or make an abrupt stop amid the trees and vines.

  They hadn't seen or heard from Jessub, which worried Kenward as much as anything--that and Bryn's fate. Few things had ever pained him as much as leaving the young man behind. Bryn's death would forever be on Kenward's conscience, and that made it heavy, indeed. No amount of tears would change reality, and Kenward concentrated on saving Farsy. That, at least, he might actually achieve.

  A trumpeting bellow announced company. Kenward sighed in relief on seeing Onin and Jehregard approaching with Jordic and Tanaketh not far behind. The larger dragon's size alone would ward off all but the most determined foes, but they were still a ways off. He hoped the compressed air would last. Changing tactics, he climbed ever higher, aiming for the dragon. The vital thumping inexorably slowed.

  Eventually, the small craft would go no higher. Kenward used the altitude to gain speed and raced toward Onin and Jehregard.

  Onin yelled. "We'll circle back and get underneath you."

  While Kenward would have complied, fate removed the choice from his hands when the bumblebee quite suddenly went silent. Their trajectory would have taken them well over Onin's head, but the sudden loss of thrust caused them to drop.

  Onin screamed as the bumblebee nosed into his flight path. Jehregard's last-second evasive maneuver kept the bumblebee from crashing into the front of the tierre. Instead, the out-of-control projectile wedged itself into the tierre's side, the bumblebee almost touching Onin's backside. He looked back and shook his head. "You people really do know how to make an entrance. Whoa!" he shouted as soon as he turned to watch where they were going.

  Kenward turned as well. The skies above the Noonspire blazed with reflected light and sheets of what might be heat lightning. The air writhed with dragons, most dark and shadowy, but one shone like the brightest comet, glittering light surrounding him. Those aboard Kyrien cast out chains of fire, but the feral dragons came in overwhelming numbers. Seeing just how many dragons followed them, Kenward's courage fled.

  Though far from secure where he was, Kenward remained frozen in place, unable to climb into the damaged tierre in mid flight. Jehregard's sudden
movements threatened to dislodge the aircraft and send it tumbling to the swamp below. As the bumblebee came loose, Onin grabbed the aircraft with a gnarled hand, grunting from the effort.

  The rest of the ride would haunt Kenward's nightmares. Feral dragons flew in close, but did not attack; instead they herded Jehregard back toward the Noonspire. Onin did what he could to fight it, but too many ferals surrounded them. Tanaketh cried out but was soon cut off from Jehregard. Once Catrin saw them driven back in that direction, her attacks intensified in pitch and scale; over and over she struck down feral dragons, only to have more take their place. Nearly overwhelmed, Pelivor guarded her back, wielding light like a whip.

  In near silence, ferals harrying them, Jehregard glided back to the Noonspire. Kenward didn't know what they wanted with him, Farsy, Onin, and Jehregard, but his imagination created horrific visions of mad sorcerers trapping them all within the towering crystal prison. More likely, they were meant as a distraction or a price to be paid.

  When Kyrien dived straight toward the spire, feral dragons blocking his path, Catrin stole Kenward's breath. Lighting up from within, she released the straps and dived from atop Kyrien.

  The dragon pulled up, Pelivor still fighting from his back, but then a blinding flash emanated from the spire. The blast wave nearly knocked the bumblebee loose. Onin's grip kept them in place, but his white knuckles made no promises.

  * * *

  Seeing Jessub and the howler fall from the Portly Dragon put Bryn's heart in his throat. He'd sacrificed his life to see the young man saved, and it looked as if he'd failed. Screaming and the howl of thrust proved him wrong a moment later as Jessub sailed past, moving up and out of the chasm. Part of him wanted Jessub to come back for him, but it would do no good. The Portly Dragon imploded upon the Noonspire. Pulling himself along the coarse deck, trying to get as far from the boiler house as possible, Bryn feared he simply delayed the inevitable. It might be far less painful and agonizing to jump into the gap and fall to his death, but life had a tenacious grip, and he wasn't ready to give up.

  When the boiler house blew, he feared he'd made a mistake. Getting behind a collapsing wind sock, Bryn avoided the fiery blast. The next detonation split the ship into pieces and rattled the world. His ears ringing and his eyes watering, Bryn fell. His descent ended as abruptly as it began. When his senses returned, he found himself resting on a mostly deflated wind sock stretched between two wooden planks. One end rested on the architecture of the outer column; the other end hissed and popped from contact with the Noonspire itself. Even with his thoughts clouded, Bryn knew his situation was deadly.

  Whispers emerged, growing louder and more insistent.

  Come closer.

  Yes . . . closer.

  Bryn closed his eyes, hoping they would go away. They did not. He could feel the energy emanating from the crystal and reaching out toward him. It pulled at his spirit, tugging his soul.

  "A mere morsel, this one," the first voice said. It was impossible for Bryn to tell male from female. He didn't suppose it mattered.

  "A tasty morsel."

  Bryn didn't care for being described as tasty. His head pounded as the energy continued to assault him, steadily leeching the life from him. He hadn't realized how much closer he'd gotten to the Noonspire, and Bryn pulled himself away with great effort.

  "A will, this one has."

  "A tasty will."

  "I am not tasty!" Bryn shouted, holding his hands over his ears. The voices laughed loudly in his mind, proving he was helpless before them and could do nothing to keep them out. He should just give up and let them take control. It would be so much easier. No more decisions. No more heartbreak. His reflection gleamed in the Noonspire, and Bryn realized he'd moved closer without intending to. Pushing himself backward, he tried to get away, but the energy clung more tightly now, as if tiny hooks dug more and more deeply into his very spirit.

  "The struggle makes it more painful."

  "The struggle makes it tastier!"

  Screaming, Bryn pulled himself forcefully away. It felt as if his body moved but his soul remained, snared by Aggrezjhon and Murden, their names seared into his memory. His insignificance amusing, they dominated him. Claimed by numbness, Bryn was lost.

  A terrible roar split the air. He barely noticed. Wind buffeted him, almost throwing him from the canvas. The ends contacting the Noonspire glowed orange, and flames licked the edges. Soon Bryn's perch would fail, and he likely wouldn't know the difference. The fight seemed far away now. It was none of his concern. He'd done his part and made a noble sacrifice. He was satisfied and could now let go.

  Sensation returned in an overwhelming rush. Aggrezjhon and Murden released their draining grip as a new threat arrived. Not quite understanding, Bryn saw Catrin Volker descending, glowing like a goddess, her translucent hair flowing around her and taking on the color of the surrounding light. She did not come to him, as he expected. Instead, she slammed into the Noonspire with percussive force. Blinding light and another blast dulled his senses, and it barely registered when Kyrien reached in and grabbed him with mighty claws.

  Atop Kyrien's back, Pelivor fought as if the world's fate rested on his shoulders. As Bryn's senses returned, he supposed it did.

  From within the crystal came a command so forceful, every living creature not already trapped complied.

  "Go!"

  * * *

  In the moment the howler slipped from the Portly Dragon's deck, Jessub Tillerman realized the value of a quiet life on the farm, of playing in the fields and racing back to a simple cabin when the rains came. Always when he'd had it, he had wanted more. Seldom had he simply enjoyed what he had. Now all of it was lost. The adventure he'd always craved was now likely to end his life. Suddenly it didn't seem worth it. The thoughts flashed across his consciousness even as his limbs moved. Though trembling from fear and adrenaline, he gripped the controls and exerted his will, thrust tubes howling. After tumbling, the aircraft pointed straight into a sky filled with dragons. Jessub could no longer see how close the ground was, but much of the Noonspire towered over him.

  Gradually the howler slowed before changing direction, the force of his will finding purchase. Bryn cried out from where he clung to remains of the Portly Dragon. If Jessub could have, he would have landed and brought Bryn aboard, but it was impossible. The best he might be able to do is distract the ferals and buy him some time. It didn't feel like it would be enough, but it was better than doing nothing. To do it, though, he needed speed. Still climbing, he presented an easy, slow-moving target. When dragons closed in, there was no more time to consider.

  He turned the howler on its wingtip and dived toward wild madness and flames reaching out from the Dragon's remains. Without warning, explosions rocked the stonework surrounding the giant crystal. Sparks and debris pelted, stinging and burning as the howler picked up speed and raced by. When next he climbed, he did so with speed no dragon could match and a report that made the air tremble. Ferals blocked his escape, gathering tightly together before him. Below there was not enough room to maneuver, and he might soon find himself overwhelmed. He just needed a bit of clear sky to make a good run at them.

  Claws, teeth, scales, and wings were all he could see, and he issued his best battle cry. Applying all his strength, he sent the howler hurtling toward the ferals with even greater speed. Perhaps the dragons had thought he would flinch, but instead they cleared a path for him at the last instant. Jessub Tillerman hooted and hollered after breaking free, allowing himself an instant of jubilation before executing a wide turn. Sweat soaked his clothes, and his goggles pressed back into the flesh around his eyes, his cheeks rippling from the wind resistance.

  His escape had taught him something important: ferals have a healthy sense of self-preservation. Either they were in control or whoever controlled them did not do so with absolute authority. Jessub had seen what that looked like. His survival would depend on proving this hypothesis. It was foolish and risky and exactly wha
t Kenward Trell would do. The last part worried him most.

  With his turn complete, the chaos around the Noonspire was fully apparent. What he saw couldn't be real, yet it did not dissolve away like the remnants of dreams. It persisted. Second and third thoughts would not be put aside as he approached. Part of his plan depended on the ferals seeing him coming and moving out of his way. The skies ahead were filled with dragons, but all were now facing the other direction, intent on something he could not see.

  Now his battle cry sounded weak and shrill. The dragons ahead did not react, as if completely oblivious to his existence. In the next instant, the skies were afire. Lightning spiderwebbed, reaching out and promising a deadly embrace. The air stank of fear and smoke.

  Through gaps in the ferals, Jessub saw beings of light astride a pulsating dragon. Those gaps just as suddenly closed, and though Jessub pulled up, it was too late. Ferals did not hear him until the last instant, and those that fled obstructed his flight path. His battle cry now a scream, Jessub flew into the malevolence. Dodging from side to side as best he could, Jessub could not avoid them all. In an instant, the howler's wingtip struck a feral in the abdomen, sending him spinning out of control. Not knowing if his aircraft was whole and near to passing out from the forces applied, Jessub did his best to maintain control. If he lost consciousness, he lost everything. Then came an undeniable command, one so powerful, it pulled him from the edge and urged him away. With the fog cleared from his mind, he flew.

  * * *

  Sinjin Volker had never felt so useless. He'd had almost no impact on events at the Noonspire. He and Kendra hadn't even gotten close to the giant crystal, and he'd had no chance at all of saving his mother. He saw what she did. It had been her choice. It was very like his mother to sacrifice herself to save the people who would miss her most. He cursed her at that moment but only because it hurt. Life had done everything it could to come between them, and he might never see her again. The Noonspire had imprisoned the powerful for thousands of years, and he had no reason to believe his mother would be any different.