Keriya felt something wrapping around her waist. She gasped and looked down, but there was nothing there. Only the stir of her dress as it folded beneath invisible fingers indicated that magic was afoot. Max was wielding a spell around her. The condensed air tightened to an almost painful point; then her feet left the ground, and with a tiny lurch she began to move.
She stared into the seemingly bottomless pit beneath her. It was disconcerting to be hovering in the open air with no barrier between her and the shadowy depths—but Max was supporting her with his magic, and she trusted him.
With a mighty flap, Thorion flew after her, circling above and weaving below. She wished she could mentally reassure him, but that power was lost to them now, so she smiled at him and nodded.
Suddenly she felt another lurch. She paused in midair, halfway between the Erastate and the Fironem.
And then she fell.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
“Duty is as heavy as a mountain, but death is lighter than a feather.”
~ Syrionese Proverb
Keriya flailed her arms and screamed as the air loosened around her, sending her plummeting into darkness.
Thorion was there in a heartbeat, zooming close. He ducked under her and she settled between his folded wings, his familiar presence quieting the roar of panic in her ears. She placed her hands against his smooth scales, anchoring herself to the feel of him, blocking out the horror of the dark drop.
Once she was stable on his back he leveled off, gliding through the Chasm on irregular currents. He flapped again, gaining altitude, and they burst from the stale abyss into the open air. Wind gathered up Keriya’s hair and misty sunlight settled on her skin. For one glorious moment, everything was forgotten—her terror, her fall, her onerous quest—and she and Thorion were all that existed, soaring together in harmony.
But Thorion was weakened. Unable to sustain their flight, he angled for the ground. He landed heavily and Keriya pitched forward, tumbling off his back to sprawl in a heap. Coughing, she rolled over and looked west. Alphir had bolted and was but a speck on the plains. Max was standing by the cliff, locked in combat with a shadowbeast.
They’d been found—of course they had, crossing into Necrovar’s territory! Keriya blinked and was blinded by a blaze of purple light reflecting off the backs of her lids. Leaping to her feet, she whirled to face Thorion.
“Fly,” she told him, drawing her sword. How long it had been since she’d grasped it like this, knuckles white and heart thumping madly, preparing to fight.
“I’m not leaving you again,” he growled.
“You’re vulnerable without your magic!”
“What of you?” His tone wasn’t harsh, but Keriya winced.
“I’ve been without magic all my life. I can handle myself.” She hefted her sword with a flourish of bravado. Its weight reassured her.
Thorion nodded. “I’ll be overhead.” He stretched his wings and leapt into the air. Keriya tracked the dragon’s progress as he gained the skies. Then he twisted sharply and dove.
“What’s he doing?” she muttered, her brows pinching together.
In answer to her question, a grating screech sliced the air—a sound she had grown up fearing as a child in Aeria.
“Drachvold,” she gasped, spinning around. Sure enough, flying in from the north were six black monstrosities. Not just any drachvolds, these were shadowbeasts. Their bat-like wings pumped rhythmically and their thin, barbed tails lashed behind them.
One creature banked and Keriya caught sight of something perched on its back. It had a rider—a demon rider as black as storm clouds on a moonless night. The shadowman controlled the drachvold with reins that hooked into the sides of its gaping, toothless maw. He urged his steed into a dive, aiming for Thorion. The drachvold tucked its wings and plummeted, and its rider wielded a jet of pitch-black fire at the dragon.
“Keriya, watch out!” Keriya tore her gaze from Thorion and glanced back in time to see Max take a running leap from the northern side of the Chasm. Her breath hitched in her throat—he’d never make that jump!—but he wielded a spell to carry himself across and soared through the air.
She leapt to the side as Max landed where she’d been standing. He fell to his side and skidding along the gravelly ground.
“Are you alright?” She reached for him with shaking hands and helped him to his feet.
“There are more,” he panted. “More demons in the Chasm. Border guards. I was stupid to think we could cross anywhere undetected. This is my father’s doing.”
“It is what it is—now we have to help Thorion.” Keriya left Max once he was upright and sprinted toward the dragon. The land on this side of the Chasm was uneven and rocky, leading into a series of spear-like hills. She heard Max calling for her, but ignored him.
A sharp gust of air collided with her, knocking her to the ground. She glared over her shoulder at the prince, only to find he hadn’t been aiming for her—he’d been aiming for the demon that had materialized by her side.
She scrambled away from the monster, hurrying to put distance between herself and its grasping claws. It wasn’t alone. Animals were seeping out of the shadows all across the slope. There had to be at least twenty of them.
The nearest shadowbeast, a wolfish creature with long fangs, snarled and leapt forward. Keriya moved on instinct and swung her sword. The animal impaled itself on the tip of the blade and disintegrated, crumbling to flaky midnight dust as it died.
No sooner was it gone than it was replaced by a furry, snarling fiend. It sprang at Keriya, reaching for her with hands that looked eerily human. Before it could attack, some invisible force wrenched it sideways and slammed it into a nearby boulder. Her eyes slid from its shadowy form to see Max racing to join her, pinning the shadowbeast in place with an air spell.
“Thanks,” she panted breathlessly. “If you deal with this one, I’ll take care of the others.”
Before he could respond, she turned and ran up the nearest hill. She sought and found Thorion: he was a shooting star weaving through the dark nebula that was the drachvolds. Only five plagued the sky now—he must have already killed one.
Two more landlocked shadowbeasts were suddenly in her way. They raced at her from either side, hissing and spitting. Keriya stopped to find purchase on the pebbly ground. She braced herself, and when the first animal lunged she hacked at it. The edge of the blade bit into its neck, but it wasn’t a killing blow. The demon hissed and retreated, allowing its partner to take its place. She was luckier this time, and her wild swing connected with its skull. The creature disintegrated, leaving her free to continue her climb.
“Keriya!” Max’s shout reached her and a hand closed on her left wrist.
“Max, let me go . . .” The words died on her lips. It wasn’t the prince who had grabbed her. It was a shadowman.
He grinned, exposing rows of shiny black teeth, and raised his free hand. Obsidian fire burst to life over his palm. It swirled in the air before shooting at her. Keriya whipped up the sword, using the blade as a shield. The necromagic streamed around her as the ancient, grime-scabbed weapon deflected the spell.
The demon’s lightless eyes widened and he loosened his grip on her. Keriya took advantage of his surprise and swung the blade at him. He wielded, turning to shadow to avoid the strike. She retreated a few paces, staring around to see where he’d gone, and lost her footing on a loose rock. As she stumbled sideways, her enemy reconstituted himself and leapt at her, shoving her down.
She landed hard on her shoulder and her head cracked against stone, sending bright spots winking across her vision. The sword was jolted from her grasp and fell just out of her reach.
With only her bare hands as weapons, Keriya clawed at the shadowman’s face. She raked at his cheeks and eyes, and her hands closed around his throat even as his blackened fingers tightened around hers.
She writhed beneath him, gasping for air, trying to break free. On one of her more desperate thrashes, something hard dug into her leg. Her hands left the shadowman’s windpipe and fell to her side, where the hand-cannon was strapped around her waist.
Given the choice between that and her sword, she’d have picked the blade in a heartbeat, but this was no time to be choosy. Her vision faded as she dragged labored breaths through her constricted throat, but she succeeded in unbuttoning the weapon from its holster.
A cry rent the air and her gaze flickered from the demon to the clouds above. One of the drachvolds had swooped down on Thorion, landing on his back. Interlocked, the two beasts tumbled head-over-tails through the air toward the sharp peaks of the hills.
With a trembling hand, Keriya pulled on the firing lever and raised the cannon. She aimed not at the shadowman who was strangling her, but at the monster attacking Thorion. Through the blood-haze that the lack of oxygen had created, she sighted down the barrel and pulled the trigger.
There was a sharp BANG! that assaulted her ears and—thank Shivnath—scared her attacker away. The noise jolted her heart out of rhythm, but a lifetime of throwing rocks had served her well—her aim had been true. Though the drachvold had to be over fifty heights away, it burst into small granules of shadow a second after the hand-cannon fired. Keriya stared in shock at the ashy droplets that rained from the sky, remnants of the destroyed demon.
Thorion righted himself with an expert twirl of his wings and angled to face the remainder of his airborne adversaries. Another demon rider wielded necromagical fire against him but he dodged, dropping into a corkscrew spiral. He zoomed past one of the drachvolds and lashed out at it, raking his talons across its hindquarters and causing it to screech in pain.
On the ground, Keriya rolled to her side and pointed the cannon at the shadowman with surprisingly steady hands. What had Max said in the palace? Six rounds—six shots to take.
She wrenched on the firing lever once more, priming the weapon, and pulled the trigger without hesitation. Another BANG! pressed deep into her ears, and the man kneeling beside her burst apart around the tiny entry wound of the cannon bullet.
Keriya lurched to her feet. She turned to her sword, only to find another shadowbeast hunched over it.
“Get away,” she snarled, priming the cannon. BANG! The creature exploded. She staggered to the blade and hefted it in her left hand. Her dominant right hand still clutched the cannon, which was frighteningly easy to use. It required no effort to destroy something, unless one counted the skill of aiming well.
Several shadowbeasts remained. Max was downhill by the lip of the Chasm, fending off several dark monsters. He was holding his own against them, so Keriya returned her attention to Thorion.
The dragon was locked in combat with the last three shadowdrachvolds. They were flying in formation, sticking close together so Thorion couldn’t pick them off one by one. He chanced a dive at the leftmost demon. A gust of black mist caught him in the face and bowled him off-course.
Keriya forged a path to the top of the craggy ridge, panic sparking in her nerves. When she reached it, she aimed at the closest drachvold.
BANG! It disintegrated in the sky. The sound frightened the shadowbeasts on the ground, and Keriya dimly registered the fact that some of them were fleeing. She wished she had enough rounds in the chamber of the hand-cannon to dispatch all of them, but Thorion’s attackers were top priority.
The dragon took advantage of the loss of one enemy to soar to the ground. Keriya raced to meet him.
“I have two more rounds,” she gasped when she reached his side. “Let me take them out from here!”
Before she could prime the cannon, there was a terrible retching noise. Fear echoed across the span of the intervening months as she was brought back to the night in Shivnath’s Mountains when a drachvold had attacked her, Fletcher, and Roxanne.
“Find cover,” she screamed, pushing at Thorion. They dove behind a boulder just as a spray of shadow-stained acid splattered the ridge. The ground sizzled and bubbled where the liquid hit. Keriya pulled the cannon’s lever as the drachvold swooped overhead, fired . . . and missed.
“Bloody bones of a bastard,” she swore. She angrily wrenched on the lever again and found it was stuck. It had jammed, and already the drachvolds were returning for another assault.
“I’ll handle them,” hissed Thorion. “You deal with the shadowtroops on the ground.”
Keriya couldn’t begin to number the reasons she didn’t like this idea. Drachvolds were too dangerous for Thorion to fight alone; she didn’t want to be separated from him; the hand-cannon was jammed; her head was throbbing, so she wouldn’t be able to wield her sword well. Even if she’d been fresh as a daisy, the old blade couldn’t protect her from her incompetence in the arts of war and magic.
Horror crept into her heart. She was seized by the overwhelming realization that she had no power to stop what was coming next.
Though he had no magic with which to read her thoughts, Thorion seemed to know her mind. He tilted his head, staring at her with a heartbreaking mixture of affection and regret.
“You have all the power in the world,” he whispered, softly touching the tip of his snout to her brow, “because you are alive.”
Another awful noise from the drachvolds jolted them to their senses. With a flash of bronze Thorion leapt up, knocking into one of the demons before it could spit its stomach contents at them. He kicked viciously at its belly and tore long gashes in its flesh. The drachvold screamed. It dropped and shattered like a fragile crystal on the rocks, spraying Keriya with the dust of its demise.
She set her jaw and nodded. While she had breath in her, she would fight. She scanned the slope, but the rest of the shadowbeasts had died or fled. That left the final drachvold.
Keeping one eye on Thorion as he circled his winged adversary, Keriya knelt and smacked the hilt of the hand-cannon against the ground. She fiddled with the firing lever in an effort to fix it.
“Keriya!” Max appeared at her side. He was covered in black ash and dirt from his battle, and a patch of red was seeping down his left sleeve.
“Are you alright?” she asked him, working at the small metal weapon.
“I’m fine. What about you?”
“I’m just peachy,” she growled, whacking the hand-cannon against a rock. Above, the drachvold ejected a spray of acid and its rider wielded necromagical fire. Thorion screeched as some of the acid hit his wing.
A muscle spasmed in Max’s jaw as he watched the deadly dance between dragon and drachvold. “How’s Thorion doing?”
“So far he’s okay—oh come on, work!” Keriya hit the barrel of the cannon and pulled on the lever. This time it slid grudgingly into place. With a deep, steadying breath, she rose and held the weapon with both hands, aiming for the shadowbeast.
The demon was locked in close combat with Thorion. She couldn’t shoot without the risk of hitting her dragon. Squinting, she waited for a clean shot. Plumes of black fire, wielded by the shadow-rider, twirled around the winged beasts like ribbons.
Hindered by his damaged wing, Thorion performed a risky maneuver and dropped on the drachvold and its rider. He connected with his target just as the shadowman wielded a cloud of fire that mushroomed to engulf the three of them. Thorion valiantly pushed the drachvold’s head aside, exposing its short neck, and bit down on its throat.
It burst to pieces and its rider fell, disintegrating when he crashed on the hilltop. Keriya sagged in relief. Thorion hung in the air, long enough for her to disarm the hand-cannon and place it in its holster, saving the final bullet. She was about to call to him.
But then he, too, began to fall.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“The injury that leaves no wound is the most painful to bear.”
~ Beledine Arowey, Second Age
Keriya screamed anew as Thorion plummeted, gaining speed. He spread his wings at the last moment, catching the air awkwardly. She heard the sickening snap of his wing joints. He wasn’t able to slow his descent, and he slammed into the next ridge over and tumbled down the slope, crying out as his body bent around boulders.
Her stomach twisted with nausea as he disappeared from view behind a rocky rise. She started scrambling desperately toward where she’d last seen Thorion.
“Keriya, wait! It’s not safe!”
Again she ignored Max’s warning. She tripped on an unstable rock and fell, scraping the heels of her palms. She shoved herself up, teetering close to the edge of a small cliff, leaping over a crevasse, scaling a boulder—
And then she froze.
Thorion lay on a flat ledge. His scales were singed black from the shadow-fire. His eyes were wide and open, his slitted pupils dilated to perfect circles. His tongue hung from his mouth between his fangs. He twitched twice; then he was still.
A wordless cry tore from Keriya’s throat and she flung herself down by his side. She shook him and he rolled limply, his body absent of muscle tension. She laid her head on his chest, listening for a heartbeat. She didn’t hear anything, but that might be for any number of reasons—she had been through an ordeal, she was tired, she’d hit her head during the fight with the shadowman.
He felt warm, which meant he was alive. She pressed on his side, leaning her weight on him, trying to force him to breathe. She did this several times and listened for a heartbeat again.
“No, no, no, no.” She repeated that over and over, as if her mouth had figured out what had happened before her brain had. She took Thorion’s head in her hands and laid it on her lap. His eyes stared up at her, vacant and dim. The inner protective membranes were slowly rising, and they stopped when they were halfway covering the purple spheres. He was moving. He was alive.
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