Chapter 28
As Syla stood between the columns on the marble structure, bathed in silver light and somehow shooting great balls of pure magical energy from it, Vorik made sure the black dragon was indeed dead, then headed toward her.
On the way, he skirted Wreylith, who was on her feet again but panting and recovering from the ordeal.
She exuded irritation and would likely kill anything—or anyone—that wandered close.
Syla continued commanding energy balls from… Teyla had called it a weapons platform, hadn’t she? They slammed into the rock walls, hurling shards everywhere as they destroyed the cannon-like weapons that had appeared there, also blasting balls of energy. Vorik approved.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted someone in black half-falling and half-climbing down the canyon wall to enter the laboratory—what remained of it. The barrier appeared to be down now, and sunlight shone upon everything.
“Wise,” Vorik called softly, recognizing his lieutenant.
Judging by his wobbly landing, Wise was injured, but when he spun and spotted Vorik, relief made him smile.
“Sir, you’re alive!”
“Yes.” Vorik gripped the lieutenant to steady him, and blood dampened his hand.
A sword slash had opened Wise’s tunic—and his abdomen.
“One of those things knocked me off Tonasketal.” Wise waved toward the sky, but then spotted Syla and gaped. “Is she doing that? Sending those things? One killed Vagnoran.”
“She’s casting the silver ones. The black ones are the storm god’s defenses.”
“Oh, the silver are helping.”
“Yes.” Vorik watched the moonlight-colored balls streaking from the platform and the concentration on Syla’s face. One by one, she was blasting them into the orifices in the canyon walls, destroying the storm god’s weapons.
Fel and Teyla, both slumping against a rock wall some yards from the platform, watched it warily as they gripped wounds. The bodyguard didn’t look like he had the energy to lift his mace again. Even Teyla’s face was bruised and bloodied, and she appeared on the verge of collapse.
Vorik noticed the amphora resting on the floor beside the weapons platform, and Syla’s pack with the other components had fallen down beside it.
Maybe he could have darted over there to snatch them, but the thought of stealing them from Syla, whether it was his mission or not, turned his stomach.
Besides, it might be suicidal to approach that platform while it was shooting out such powerful blasts.
In the sky above, the battle had faltered as the combatants realized that what they’d thought was the desert floor of the canyon was a huge strange laboratory. One with weapons that could kill them.
Most of the dragons soon flew out of sight—if they were wise, they would fly all the way back to the mountains. But Vorik spotted a familiar black dragon, one without red eyes. Ozlemar.
At the same time, Jhiton saw him. Vorik smiled and lifted a hand.
“Sir.” Wise pointed at the weapons platform.
Syla had launched another silver ball out, slamming it into the last of the storm god’s defenses. No more black balls hurled up toward the dragons in the sky. Vorik started to nod in relief but was watching Syla’s face when she noticed Jhiton.
Her eyes tracked him, and an unsettling premonition filled Vorik. She was a healer and had a gentle soul—he believed that—but the gods had given her the opportunity to slay the man who’d ordered the invasion of her kingdom—the assassinations of all of her close family.
Before her eyes hardened with resolve, Vorik was sprinting across the laboratory toward the platform.
Her fingers twitched on the columns, the moon-mark on her hand glowing silver. Terrified that he would be too late, Vorik dropped his sword and summoned all of his strength to leap at her.
An instant before more deadly magical blasts would have shot out, he slammed into Syla.
He struck so hard that they tumbled off the platform, hitting the ground on the far side and rolling away.
Syla cried out in pain, and Vorik regretted that he’d hurt her, but he couldn’t regret saving his brother.
When they came to a stop, he made sure to come down on top of her, pinning her so she couldn’t return to the platform.
She slumped under him, her face bathed in sweat and exhaustion seeping from her.
She might have wanted to curse his name for stopping her, but she didn’t have the energy to do more than groan in disappointment.
Overhead, Ozlemar flew over the rim of the canyon and out of view, but not before Jhiton lifted a hand again, acknowledging what Vorik had done.
A snarl came from nearby. “Traitor!”
Fel half-ran and half-limped toward them, his mace raised.
Vorik rolled off Syla and got to his feet. He’d dropped his sword, not wanting to risk striking Syla with it, but he wasn’t afraid to face Fel unarmed.
“I am not that, my friend,” Vorik said.
Fel stopped when he reached Syla’s side and stood protectively over her. He surprised Vorik by not attacking, but they’d fought together numerous times now. It was hard to try to kill a battle brother, even one who remained an enemy.
Teyla didn’t move from the wall but watched, her gaze locked on them. Syla seemed dazed, her unfocused eyes toward the sky, her spectacles askew.
“Get out of here, Captain,” Fel growled.
From his position, Fel couldn’t see behind the platform, but in his peripheral vision, Vorik could.
So he saw Wise sneaking toward it to grab the shielder components.
Though Vorik hadn’t been willing to take them himself, and he almost moved to stop his lieutenant, he didn’t. In the end, this was their mission.
“If that’s what you wish.” Vorik shifted to keep Fel’s and Teyla’s attention on him.
Behind the platform, Wise gave him a sky-is-clear gesture and slipped away with the shielder components.
A green dragon soared into view overhead. Agrevlari.
“It is.” Fel knelt to touch Syla’s shoulder. Her eyes remained open, but she barely reacted. “We’ll deal with you no more,” Fel added.
Though he wished he were the one who could kneel by Syla’s side and make sure she was all right, Vorik bowed, retrieved his sword, and walked out of the laboratory. It was time to meet Agrevlari and go home.
Vorik was gone. All the stormers and their dragons were.
The Freeborn Faction had left as well. Syla hoped Wreylith hadn’t abandoned her.
After her encounter with the black dragon—and the storm god’s weapons—she’d left the canyon to recover—or because she’d had enough of dealing with Syla and humans.
She frowned at the thought. If all the dragons had departed, how would she and her allies get home?
Glum and full of despair over the choice she’d made—and the loss it had resulted in—Syla searched the laboratory, hoping vainly that the scrolls had been wrong, that she would find another orb.
But she didn’t. The blue substrate remained, but it would take another ten years before another orb would grow.
Or, after so much damage being inflicted on the laboratory, would another one ever grow?
She sank to her knees, aware of Fel and Teyla elsewhere in the laboratory but too numb to be more than vaguely aware that Fel was standing guard, as always, while Teyla poked around, braver now that the storm god’s magic seemed to have faded.
Piles of rocks lay all along the walls and covered workstations, the remains of Wreylith’s fury.
Syla needed to dig out the figurine and call to the dragon, but she was afraid to do so, that she would receive nothing but silence in return.
“Look at all these artifacts,” Teyla said from a row of wall niches.
“I’d love to take some to the museum back home.
Do you think it’s safe to touch them? We shouldn’t abandon them here.
What if scavengers destroy them? I don’t think this place is hidden and protected anymore.
Is there any way we could take that weapons platform back with us?
That would be amazing. You could put it on top of one of the castle towers, Syla, and zap any dragons that dared approach our island.
Maybe you could zap Relvin and General Dolok too.
Anyone trying to take the Kingdom from you. ”
Syla rose to her feet and walked over to contemplate the marble platform. A boulder rested atop what she’d thought of as the canopy. She didn’t remember the huge rock landing but supposed Wreylith or one of the other dragons had hurled it toward the end of the battle.
Though Syla believed Vorik had knocked her off the platform to keep her from killing his brother, he might also have thought he was saving her from flying boulders. Despite its weight, the platform didn’t appear damaged, and it still emanated magical power.
“It’s huge and has to weigh tons,” Syla said. “I doubt a dragon could carry it.”
“You’d have to send a cart with a team of horses.
A big team. At the same time, you could send a team of archeologists to study this place.
” Teyla’s eyes gleamed as she spun toward Syla.
She wasn’t distressed about the loss of the orb.
Maybe she hadn’t yet realized they’d lost everything they’d gone on this quest to retrieve.
“I could head the team. As queen, you could appoint me.” Teyla almost bounced as she touched her chest. “Would that be nepotism?”
“Yes.”
“Would you do it anyway?”
“Probably. I doubt any sane archaeologists would want to come to a desert full of man-eating animals, lizards, and probably even cactuses. You’d have to bribe people to join your team.”
Fel nodded.
“I could do that. I’m good at wheedling people into things.” Teyla lovingly stroked a crystal with a rune carved in it.
“It wouldn’t be safe to come back here without any dragons.”
“Well, you’d have to wheedle them into helping. That’s your forte.”
If only.
“I’m not even sure,” Syla started but trailed off when Wreylith glided into view in the mouth of the canyon.