Chapter 44
Chapter
Forty-Four
Thaelyn lay on the ground in shackles and was lifeless.
No heartbeat. There was a muffled thrum outside her door.
Boots sounded and echoed against stone. From somewhere far above came the sound of dragons.
The air pressure deepened. The wards around her snapped taut as if bracing.
A low, resonant screech echoed down from the heights of the tower.
Then another noise followed. It was deeper, ancient, and unmistakable.
The tower shook and rattled with a vengeance.
Dust trembled down from the high arches.
The ancient stones groaned as if remembering war.
Thaelyn lay there limp. The silence that had reigned for days fractured with a single, brutal impact.
It was an explosion of power coming from above, followed by the unmistakable screech of a dying being not from this world.
Boots pounded throughout the interior hallways.
The door of her holding cell started to splinter.
Steel clashed against steel. The runes etched along its arch flared a sickly green color that was pulsing in warning.
The wards were reacting, sensing the disruption.
Then came a sound that ripped through her lifeless soul.
It was a voice screaming with agony. It was guttural, furious, and raw, mixed with something deeper than rage. Thorne.
The magic in the chamber surged. It reacted in confusion from the different forces of magic that were straining its shields.
The wards flared red now and became unstable.
Another body thumped as it hit the floor outside.
Then a hiss of pain was heard. Another dragon roared, closer this time.
Nyxariel’s fury broke through the sky like a blade of lightning.
And beneath it, coming from the ground, a deeper, more guttural growl of Vornokh, no longer merely shadow and fire, but fury incarnate.
They were reacting to the stopped heartbeat of one of their riders.
Another explosion rocked the corridor. The runes flashed blinding white.
And then, the vicinity boomed and shattered.
A burst of shadow slammed into the doorway, rupturing the protective enchantments with a sound like splitting bone.
Fire followed. It was brief, controlled, and searing.
The stone cracked down the center, and with a final roar, the walls and the metal door exploded inward.
Light and smoke flooded the room. Through the haze stepped Thorne.
His cloak torn, blood dripping on his cheek.
His sword drawn and wreathed in flickers of flame.
His eyes locked on Thaelyn. Darian and Sorren entered behind him.
In two long strides, Thorne crossed to her.
She was chained to the wall by her hands and feet.
She was lifeless; no pulse could be felt.
She appeared to be badly beaten, with a broken nose, broken arm, and dislocated shoulders, and was naked.
Thorne's arms wrapped around her. Darian ripped off his cloak and handed it to Thorne to cover her nakedness. Sorren worked on getting her free from the shackles. No one dared to speak a word. When Thaelyn’s arms and legs were free from the chains that bound her, Thorne lifted her limp body in his arms and carried her out.
From the corridor, standing watch, Garric’s voice called, “We’ve got movement! Thorne, we need to extract, now!”
Thorne pulled back his head, his gaze already scanning her face, the room, and the residual runes glowing in the cracks of the stone. “She’s really bad. I don’t feel a pulse.” He turned and shouted, “Clear the path!”
Outside, the corridor was chaotic. Darian’s blade caught a guard mid-lunge, blood spraying as Garric threw a wave of ice down the far end, sealing a stairwell shut.
Vornokh roared again. He was closer. His rage rattled the tower stones.
The dark pulse of his magic made the corridor flicker with violet flame.
“Hold formation!” Commander Dareth barked from above. He was leading the aerial mission. “Vaelion, secure the south flank! Drop off the ground reinforcement and then get those dragons in the air again. We need air cover in two minutes!”
Thorne carried Thaelyn in front of him. Her body was still limp and lifeless.
“Please don’t die on me. Stay with me,” he ordered, voice hard but low, meant to be heard by her ears alone.
As the extraction team reached the end of the corridor, another bolt of shadow and magic ripped through the wall beside them.
Sorren, cloaked in darkness, emerged from nowhere to cut down a guard.
He nodded once at Thorne. His dragon Mirra was wheeling above the tower.
The team moved fast, passing floor by floor.
They passed dead bodies all along the way.
Every stair was a battlefield. Every hall was a trap half-sprung.
They fought through it all. The moment they emerged into the open courtyard, the dragon storm above split wide.
Nyxariel descended like wrath from the heavens, wings spread in full Aether fire.
The sky turned violet and silver as she landed on the far wall, screaming in challenge.
Vornokh followed, black and blazing, his wings casting a shadow that swallowed the moonlight. Aether boiled through the air.
Thaelyn still had no heartbeat, no breath came from her lungs as the dragonbond flared back to life. Nyxariel’s voice crashed. “Little Storm, hold on.”
Thorne said, voice thick, “We’re getting out, now.”
“Let’s go!” Garric shouted, vaulting onto his dragon.
Darian, face pale but standing, hauled Thaelyn up behind Thorne.
Vornokh lay flat on his belly, crouched low, to help with getting Thaelyn up into his saddle.
The King of Dragons, respected by all, was lying flat on his belly for a human.
His eyes were blazing with fear and rage.
Nyxariel shrieked from the air above them as if thanking her mate for helping to save her bonded rider.
Once Darian was able to be sure that Thaelyn was secure behind Thorne, he gave the signal.
Vornokh shot up into the air with such fury and speed.
The other dragons followed. The air was a blaze with dragons and riders.
The ground was a blaze with flames. The dragonfire melted the fortress to the ground.
From above, all that could be seen was smoke and ash.
When the dragon battalion and their riders crested over the last ridge of the Asgar Mountain’s rim, the jagged cliffs broke open into the familiar sprawl of the Asgar Training Academy.
Bells were ringing from the high towers, signaling that dragons were arriving overhead.
Cadets spilled out into the fields below, while instructors rallied at the gates.
“Hold on, we are home,” Nyxariel breathed, her voice echoing down the bond softer than a breath of mist.
The dragons landed in a wide arc along the flight field, their wings kicking up dust and roaring wind as claws struck the ground.
Nyxariel folded her wings with force, crouching low as if bowing thanks to her mate.
All of the dragons bowed down as Vornokh landed.
Thorne lifted Thaelyn’s limp body forward and dismounted Vornokh as fast as he could.
Thaelyn’s body was still draped in Darian’s cloak to cover her nakedness.
Thorne knew he had to get her to the healers as fast as he could.
She still was not breathing and didn’t have a pulse.
He ran as fast as his legs would allow. His arms were wrapped fiercely around her waist and back.
His chin pressed to the top of her head.
His shadows cloaked her in protection. “I’m here,” he whispered.
“I’m here, Thaelyn, hold on just a little longer. ”