Chapter 19 The Collapse
THE COLLAPSE
As they led her from the chamber, Lark committed the labyrinth of corridors to memory. The views through the windows they passed confirmed her earlier suspicions.
I’m being held in an upper level of the Keep, she thought.
They moved down the tower and Lark was hauled past an open door where she caught a view of the dragon’s perch, a massive landing platform that protruded horizontally from the top level of the central tower.
As they descended past the perch, guards and servants averted their eyes. She caught their whispers as she was shoved along the corridor.
“Nordraven’s most infamous dragonrider.”
“The King’s prisoner, right here in the Keep.”
Finally, they reached a circular chamber two levels below the dragonriders’ takeoff and landing platform.
The exterior wall of the room was floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Astral City.
The city glowed with lantern light from the festivalgoers crowding the streets.
Beyond the city walls, the moonlit countryside stretched out to the Astral Mountains where White Eye was hiding.
King Agadorn stood with his back to the door, hands clasped behind him as he gazed out at his kingdom.
The Archmagus Hierro De Vonte stood beside him, a tall, slim figure with dark black hair greased tight to his skull, and darkened eyes that seemed to sink deep into his boney face.
His ornate black robes glimmered with silver symbols, embroidery that was distinctive to the Magi Order.
Their conversation halted as Lark was brought in.
“Leave us,” the King commanded the guards without turning.
“But Your Majesty—” the short mage began in protest.
Without a word, the King turned and his glare sent the mage backpedaling, as the silver starlight in his eyes flared. “The Archmagus and I are more than capable of containing one bound dragonrider,” the King said.
The Paragons obeyed, ushering the mage out and closing the heavy door.
For a moment, silence stretched between Lark and the two at the window. Then the Archmagus spoke. His smooth voice carried a quality that created an unease whispering across the back of her neck.
“General Ashbrook reports that White Eye has been hunting the Vermillion Keep’s dragons,” he said without preamble. “Three riders have not returned from patrols over the southern ridges.”
“White Eye is protective,” Lark replied calmly. “And your riders would’ve survived had they not gone hunting for him beyond your wards.”
“They were there to secure the area against rebel infiltration,” the Archmagus countered.
“Your friends have been quite busy spreading unsanctioned propaganda throughout the city. We’ve been trying to destroy them as they arise, but the documents questioning the King’s authority and claiming collusion with the North, have persisted. ”
Lark kept her expression neutral, though inwardly she felt a surge of pride. Cheyanne was still working to expose the truth, even with the Void Drinker’s plans in motion.
“Tomorrow night, the festival will end early,” the King said, turning back to the window.
“After which, martial law will be declared until the troops I’ve recalled from the eastern battlefront arrive to defend this Keep.
Any remaining anti-Agadorn propaganda will be collected and burned.
The dissidents will be identified and re-educated. ”
“And what happens after that?” Lark asked. “What if the Flashover begins early?”
The King’s shoulders stiffened. “So, you do understand what’s coming.”
“I understand more than you think.”
The King turned slowly, his eyes clearing of the silver starlight momentarily. In that brief window of lucidity, Lark saw genuine fear in his gaze.
“Then call off your dragon,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Perhaps we can still—”
A tremor passed through his body, and the starlight returned to his eyes. When he spoke again, it was with his commanding voice.
“Call off your dragon, or we will be forced to deploy our full aerial force of Paragons against him,” the King commanded. “He cannot stand against twenty riders at once, no matter how powerful he may be.”
Lark measured her words carefully. “I’ll need to connect with him fully to send such a command. These bindings,” she raised her shackled wrists, “make that impossible.”
The Archmagus stepped forward. “A convenient excuse.”
“It’s the truth. You’ve suppressed my bonds. I can barely sense White Eye, let alone command him to retreat.”
“Then perhaps we need a more direct approach,” the Archmagus said.
He withdrew a small crystal sphere implanted with Sapphires from his robes, its surface etched with familiar runes.
“This will amplify what connection remains. But be warned, it cuts both ways. If you attempt to use it to order an attack, the backlash will be severe.”
He held the sphere out toward Lark. The King watched silently, the silver starlight in his eyes pulsing with an unnatural rhythm.
Lark hesitated. The sphere was clearly designed to interface with a dragonrider’s bond, but there was no telling what other effects it might have. It could be a trap, a way to further control her.
But this could also provide an opportunity. If she could establish a stronger connection with White Eye, she might be able to share what she’d learned about the gateway, about Barrik, about the ritual pages being incomplete.
“Very well,” she said, extending her bound hands.
The Archmagus placed the sphere in her palms. Its surface was cool to the touch, but as her fingers closed around it, warmth spread through the crystal. The runes etched into its surface began to glow, first with green light, then shifting to a deeper blue.
Lark closed her eyes, focusing on her bond with White Eye. The sphere did indeed amplify the connection; the thin thread widened to a proper channel. She felt White Eye’s presence surge closer, his rage momentarily giving way to relief at feeling her more strongly.
White Eye, she projected through their strengthened bond. Listen carefully. I’m being held in the central tower of Vermillion Keep. The pages Venrick took don’t detail the whole ritual, they’re incomplete. Barrik is after the rest of it in Wintermire.
She felt White Eye’s acknowledgment, his mind working to absorb this new information.
There’s more, she continued. My prison may be a gateway to the fae realm. I may be able to use it to escape, but I need to get back there. Have Venrick and the others—
A sharp pain lanced through her head as the Archmagus snatched the sphere from her hands.
“Enough,” he said coldly. “You’ve had sufficient time to issue a simple retreat command.”
Lark blinked, focusing on the Archmagus’ face through her pain. “It’s done. White Eye will withdraw to the north.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. She had included that instruction amid the more important information.
The King’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “If you’ve betrayed this gesture of good faith—”
The chamber door burst open, a guard rushed in clearly alarmed.
“Your Majesty, the rebel forces, they’ve breached the outer wards of the city. Multiple points of infiltration reported,” he said in haste.
The King and the Archmagus exchanged a grim look.
“It seems your friends have decided to launch a rescue mission,” the Archmagus said to Lark. “Foolish, but not unexpected.”
“Return her to her cell,” the King ordered. “Double the guard. If the rebels somehow penetrate the Keep, she is not to be taken.”
“And what of the half-elf Squire, Your Majesty?” the guard asked. “The reports say—”
“What reports?” Lark interrupted, unable to contain herself. “What about Venrick?”
The guard hesitated, looking to the King for guidance.
“Tell her,” the King said with a cruel smile. “Let her understand the uselessness of her hope.”
“Venrick survived escaping the Keep’s wards, but remains gravely injured somewhere in the city,” the guard reported dispassionately. “The Archmagus says the Flashover will begin in three days. We need the dragonrider now for the ritual.”
Lark wavered. Venrick was alive, but suffering from the spell the King used with the Void Drinker’s help. And the Flashover was coming far sooner than they had anticipated. Three days, not the months she’d assumed they had to prepare.
The Archmagus gestured for the guards to take her, but as they moved forward, the entire tower shuddered. A distant explosion echoed through the night air, followed by alarms ringing throughout the Keep.
“What was that?” the King demanded.
“I don’t know, Your Majesty,” the guard replied, steadying himself against the wall as another tremor shook the tower.
Lark felt a surge of power through her bond with White Eye. Despite her instructions to retreat, her dragon had launched an attack on the Keep’s outer defenses. She could tell from his confidence that he wasn’t alone. There was a force working with them on the ground.
Cheyanne’s rebellion, she realized.
The distraction was her chance. With the sudden eruption of chaos, Lark made her decision.
As the guards moved to grab her arms, she twisted away, using the maneuver Barrik had drilled into her countless times during their training.
Her bound hands were a disadvantage, but she had spent years learning to fight through limitations.
She kicked out, catching the nearest guard in the knee. As he buckled, she checked him with her shoulder into the second guard. They both went stumbling. The Archmagus raised his hands, energy from his Yogo Sapphires gathering at his fingertips, but Lark was already moving.
She dove for the door, rolling into the corridor beyond. Guards shouted, boots pounded on stone, but Lark had memorized the path back to her cell.