Meodryt turned its attention from Athala to regard the Prophet. It snorted derisively and one of its enormous clawed forequarters lashed out, backhanding the man away.
For a moment, it seemed as if the dragon had missed.
Ibeyar’s after images shattered in a spray of magical sparks. Left in its place was a man who flew backwards bodily, towards the dais in the center of the room. He landed on the steps in a way that made Elise wince. The wizard didn’t get up.
Athala used the distraction to come closer. Elise and Ermolt once more clawed at the orange haze, but the barrier stayed.
“It’s no use,” Sieghard said in a quiet voice. “It doesn’t intend to let her leave. You’ll only tire yourselves out.”
“Shut up,” Ermolt snapped. He bashed the pommel of his axe against the barrier, but the blow did nothing but make his arm vibrate with the force.
Meodryt turned its attention back to Athala. Elise stilled Ermolt’s continued attempts against the barrier with a gesture.
“—the one,” Athala was saying. She pointed across the room to the prone Ibeyar. “We need your help to kill him.”
“You dare order me like some common dog?” Meodryt’s nostrils flared. “I am unsure what is more insulting—that you think you can make such a request of me, or that the request is to help you kill a feeble man who started life as no more than a merchant.”
“I’m not ordering you!” Athala shouted, her voice squeaking with effort. “He’s done something to Undyt! I don’t know what, but he’s a lot more powerful than we could ever hope to deal with. Please, help us!”
Meodryt chuckled, a sound that seemed to vibrate the orange wall. “Your only job was to deal with the dragons. To foil those who would free them, or else free them yourselves and slay them. And so you failed here. Failed to stop him. I don’t see what you’re trying to accomplish by admitting your failure.”
Across the room, Ibeyar was finally struggling to his feet. He wavered, a hand to his head, but then steadied himself. “You dare to touch me? You are a lesser being than me now!” He pointed his dagger at the dragon and snarled. “I will reduce you to—”
The tip of Meodryt’s tail lashed through the air, the side of the huge appendage landing solidly against the wizard’s chest. Ibeyar shot through the air once more, landing on the far side of the dais and rolling across the ground before he finally came to rest against the far wall of the room.
“Do not make me turn to you again.” Meodryt roared, its voice filling the room and shaking the orange barrier. “I will show you what happens to those who try my patience.”
“Athala, run!” Elise shouted. The force of her shout caused her head to swim, but she pushed past the pain. “We’ll get you out!”
Ermolt turned and started hammering his axes against the stone walls. At first the weapons did no more than deflect off the stone, but eventually they began ripping huge chunks from them.
Meodryt turned its head towards Elise for a moment. Despite her fear and concern for her friend, she felt her heart quail under the attentions of the ancient predator.
The orange light stretched across the wall as well, halting Ermolt’s progress. He snarled in frustration and bashed his axes against the barrier.
With a satisfied nod, Meodryt turned back to Athala. “What do you have to say for yourself, then, Child? Come, what is your defense for your actions?”
“I needed to use the spell,” Athala said in a voice that was almost too quiet for Elise to hear. The pain in her tone caused Elise’s heart to seize. She seemed so small next to the enormous beast. “I couldn’t beat him without more power.”
“And so your decision was to defy me,” the dragon snorted in her face, the gust of wind sending her curls aflutter. “Perhaps this is my fault. I should have never let you get this far.” Meodryt narrowed its massive eyes at Athala. “You have reached much farther than a mortal ought to, as it was.
“Ydia instructed me to ignore your research. According to Her judgment, you were not a threat to me. When you broke my spell apart to make fragments of its power yours, I turned the other way when She ordered it. When you toyed with forces beyond your ken and determined how to cast Sirur’s spell, I turned the other way when she ordered it.” Meodryt’s voice grew colder, but louder, with every word. “But you dared to do the unthinkable. You cast my spell without knowing what it meant. Your audacity has shown that Her judgment was wrong.
“You are a threat. And I cannot turn the other way again. No matter Ydia’s plans for you, you cannot be allowed to have this power.”
“Why?” Athala asked, standing tall against the dragon’s anger. “What makes me a threat? What did I do?”
The dragon roared, the earth-shattering noise driving Athala to her knees.
Under Elise’s hand, the barrier vibrated.
“Is your insolence truly limitless? Your ignorance I can understand, but do not hope to talk down to me.” It leaned closer to Athala, its massive teeth barely a single fen from her face. “You have made it clear that your greed for power reaches far beyond your common sense. By loosing me from my spell, you have bound your power to mine.
“By casting that spell while I yet live, your orders are not issued to the forces of magic itself, but straight to my own ears. Right now, you don’t understand how to abuse this transgression, but if you are allowed to continue, there are no words in your language that can properly describe the heretical disrespect you could be capable of.”
“I wouldn’t—”
“You disrespect my power. Do not disrespect my intelligence as well.” Athala flinched from the angry snarl. “You made brazen demands of me not ten heartbeats ago. But you dare to tell me that you wouldn’t put the force of your magic behind them? Even if you were smart enough to set such a tool aside, it would only be a matter of time before your Conscript would convince you otherwise in a desperate situation.”
Elise winced.
Athala fell silent for a moment, her head lowered. When she looked back up, her face was hardened by determination. “I didn’t know any of this,” she said, trying to push herself to her feet. “I had no idea that I was a threat to you, or to Ydia. There was no way for me to know!” She stood to full height, facing those bared teeth as if she had any way to overcome them. “Now that I know, now that you’ve told me, I’ll stop. I won’t do any more research on this.”
The dragon paused at that, its head tilting curiously to one side. “Oh, I see,” it said, chuckling. It arched its neck up, pulling those teeth away from Athala.
Elise’s heart leapt in her throat. Beside her, Ermolt cried out in joy. The barrier shimmered under their hands, but it didn’t dissipate. Not yet.
“Thank you,” Athala said, the relief clear in her voice. “I promise. I will never use your spell again.”
It chuckled again, louder. Elise felt the impossible urge to laugh with it. “You’re right,” Meodryt said, and its laughter dried up. “You won’t.”
The dragon darted its head forward at a speed Elise could barely register. It was like watching a serpent strike.
Athala didn’t even have time to scream before those massive teeth closed around her.
But Elise and Ermolt both screamed for her.
Chapter Forty-One
The ancient beast tipped its head back. Elise could see blood on its lips and teeth. It chewed twice, over-sized jaws crunching down on the bones, flesh, and sinew that had once comprised of her friend.
It swallowed for show, massive muscles moving to pass the half-chewed lump of wizard to its gullet.
The world swam.
Tears were on Elise’s cheeks, painfully hot.
Her chest ached and burned with a sobbing she was barely aware of.
Athala was dead.
Her friend.
Dead.
And her blood dripped from the chin of a dragon who Elise had once felt protected by. Had once felt kinship to.
Ermolt howled with an anguish and rag
e that Elise couldn’t voice. “I’ll kill you, foul beast!” He struck the barrier twice, each time just as effective as before.
Meodryt’s giant tongue flicked from between its lips to collect the blood from its chin.
“Your insolence is not reason enough to kill you,” it said in a silky-smooth voice, as if pleased with itself. “But if you insist on being a threat, you can follow her.”
Its torso swelled as it inhaled deeply. The moment its enormous lungs were full, the shimmering barrier between them and Meodryt faded.
Ermolt stumbled into the room. The space filled with his roar of triumph. He had eyes only for Meodryt, and his axes were at the ready.
Elise knew he would die.
Just like Athala.
There was a moment where that was acceptable. Where she was alright with the idea of rushing into battle. To avenge Athala, and to die when they couldn’t.
But as Meodryt lowered its head, preparing to unleash its legendary fire, Elise knew they would have no chance. They would die before a landing a scratch on it.
There would be no one to avenge Athala. Or Merylle.
No one to stop Ibeyar. Or Ydia.
Elise reached out to grab Ermolt, but he was already out of reach. His long legs, fueled by the rage and the anger, propelled him across the room to meet the dragon with the glowing white throat.
A shout from behind drowned out Elise’s feeble attempt to call her friend back from the brink of death. The words were foreign, draconian in nature.
Otherworldly wind buffeted Elise. It smelled of grass and felt almost uncomfortably warm.
Elise’s already dizzy head spun out of control as the wind lifted her from her feet and whisked her backwards. Ahead of her, Elise could see Ermolt was also caught in the vortex. He shouted in anger as he was carried away from the dragon.
They were hurled back through the doorway. Standing at the side of the door, Sieghard gestured with one hand and Elise and Ermolt were thrown bodily up a few of the stairs. The wind faded, and the old man spat another stream of draconian words, culminating in another gesture. This time it was raising a hand above his head before sweeping it downward.
A chunk of ceiling broke free and landed over the doorway, blocking it completely with a stone that looked to weigh more than Elise and Ermolt combined.
An instant later there was a sound like a physical blow. The impact of the dragonfire against the stone shook the walls, but the door held. Somehow.
Ermolt was on his feet in an instant. He charged at the blocked doorway. The room was still shaking from the continuous flow of the dragon’s power into the stone, but the barbarian ignored it. He clawed at the giant chunk of rock, trying to muscle it out of the way.
It didn’t budge.
He whirled on Sieghard, his face a contortion of rage and misery. “Move it!” he roared, his voice booming in the enclosed space. His giant hand wrapped around Sieghard’s shirt and he lifted the wizard from the floor. “Move that stone!” He shook Sieghard, hard enough to rattle the wizard’s teeth together. “Let me back in!”
“No,” Sieghard said. “I won’t.” He put his hands on Ermolt’s shoulders, trying to shove the massive barbarian away. Ermolt didn’t even notice.
“I said move it!” Ermolt bellowed into his face, the force of his breath sending wisps of hair fluttering. “Or I will use your corpse as a lever to move it myself!”
“No. I won’t,” Sieghard repeated, firmly. The roar of dragonfire from the next room stopped, and so Sieghard’s next words seemed deafening in the silence. “Athala chose to save you. I gave her the chance to leave and she refused.” He touched Ermolt’s hand and the barbarian’s grip relaxed almost instantly. “She gave her life for you to live. I won’t dishonor her sacrifice by letting you die.”
Ermolt stared at the old wizard for a long moment. It broke Elise’s heart all over again to see the way Ermolt deflated. The rage left his face, and he almost seemed to shrink. He shoved Sieghard against the wall and turned away. Back to the door. But not before Elise could see the tears in his eyes. He punched the door, once, and the echo of the blow resonated through the stairwell.
“There... there might be a way,” Sieghard said, turning to Elise. “What has happened can be fought. Must be fought. We don’t need to accept this loss. All we need is power, and knowledge. And I can supply you with the latter.” He shook his head, smoothing his robes back into place. “But we won’t have the chance if we stay here.”
A despair filled Elise, drowning her fury. She felt as deflated as Ermolt. Hopeless. “Tch, what does it even matter? What can we even do against that creature without Athala?” Her words sounded empty to her own ears. “Revenge against Meodryt is revenge against Ydia.” She scuffed her foot along the ground. “Thousands will be left without Her blessings. The rivers will stop, life will stand still. They will be without Her guidance.”
“Is that any different than those in Jalova? Or even Jirda, now?” Ermolt didn’t turn to face her, but she could hear the anger in his voice. His chest hitched with a silent sob. “It’s Her dragon. She could have stopped this. But She didn’t. She didn’t and Athala died.”
“I don’t have a problem with revenge when revenge is due,” Elise said in a quiet voice. “But I think we’re forgetting the true monster here. What do we do about Ibeyar? We couldn’t stop him, and now he’s done... whatever it is he was going to do.”
Ermolt shook his head. “He is no threat. Ibeyar was in his center of power, surrounded by his most fanatical followers, with all the control he could muster. And he barely won. He would be dead on the ground if Meodryt hadn’t shown up. I have no doubt that we could just wait for him to leave the city and kill him then.”
“But what if he doesn’t leave? Why would he need to leave? He has what he wanted. I don’t know what that means, or what his next plans are, but I don’t think he actually needs to leave now!”
“That may be so, but we do,” Sieghard said with a frustrated sigh. “I know you are both very passionate. You want revenge, and there are a lot of targets. But we need to leave this Temple. Too much longer and either he or the dragon will find us. And that will be if his followers don’t come up from behind us and grind us to a paste against this wall.” He shook his head. “I need to get you both out of this city. You need to get out of his reach.” Sieghard looked up, and Elise could see the pain of loss in his eyes as well. “We have lost this battle. There’s nothing more we can do besides escape and survive, like she wanted us to.”
Ermolt responded to the wizard, but Elise let their conversation fall to background noise. She leaned her head back against the stairs. The motion caused the room to spin, but eventually it settled and she found herself staring at the ceiling.
A small part of her said this was all too horrible to be real. It was just another nightmare of Meodryt’s impatience. She would wake up and Athala would be meeting her in the Lucky Turnip’s main room to tell her about some wild theory on dragon magic.
That everything would be fine.
She tried to picture it.
Tried to see her friend’s face alight with joy as she theorized and hypothesized.
But she couldn’t.
She had driven Athala away the last time they spoke in earnest. They had fought, and Elise had taken the side of Ydia against Athala’s desire to grow stronger.
Athala had only wanted to be stronger to protect them.
Them, the people who were hired to protect her.
In the end, she had.
The power she had chased had saved their lives, even if it cost her own.
Ydia had abandoned them, and Athala had shown up to save them.
And now, even if indirectly, Ydia had killed Athala.
Elise sobbed, letting the tears flow freely from her eyes. She sagged against the stairs.
Athala was right. Had always been right. She had told Elise that Ydia didn’t care for them besides as tools for Her plans. That their lives had no valu
e to Her, beyond what service they could provide.
She would never hear Athala brag about being right.
In this moment, that’s what she missed the most.
A sweet little sing-song of “I told you so” would have been so appropriate. So fitting and merited.
Elise deserved to be shamed. She deserved to have this moment held over her head. She deserved to hurt for being so very, very wrong.
And she did.
She did hurt.
Very much.
Ermolt scooped her up in his arms and Elise almost fought him off. A part of her wanted to just lay on the ground and wait for whatever death arrived first. They had so many enemies. Let them fight for the opportunity to kill her.
But the stone scales of his armor were slightly warmer than the floor, yet they were still hard enough to feel like the discomfort she deserved. So she let him carry her.
And she cried.
Elise buried her head against his shoulder and sobbed against the stone.
She expected to be teased. A part of her hoped that he would, as it would be a sign that everything was alright.
But every few steps, his own chest hitched in a silent sob, and Elise knew he was crying as well.
Logic told her that Ibeyar’s people would still be combing the city, looking for Athala. But it was some indiscernible time past last bell, and the streets were empty. The only sounds were the click-clacking of Ermolt’s armor and their sobbing echoing off the buildings around them.
Sieghard exchanged a few words with Ermolt, but Elise didn’t catch them. Instead she tried to imagine the pattern of Athala’s footsteps alongside Ermolt’s. She tried to imagine the wizard’s voice as she went on and on about some inane detail of pointless research into the average weight of a household spider.
It didn’t help. It wasn’t real.
At some point, Ermolt set her down somewhere soft. Elise felt a wave of revulsion. She didn’t deserve to be comfortable. And she didn’t want to be comfortable.
Destiny (Heroes by Necessity Book 3) Page 27