Chapter 26 Ella #2
Before Nix could strike, however, she flickered out of existence, a flurry of sparks cascading over Lark’s armor.
Lark’s stomach lurched as she realized she was falling.
Flaming branches broke against her back as she dropped fifty feet from the height of the forest and slammed onto the ground.
The armor kept her body from breaking, but pain flashed white in her eyes, blinding her.
Larks’ kidneys, spine, and head throbbed with pain, her breath coming ragged as she struggled to inhale.
The ground shook as trees popped and fell, the old-growth timbers striking the ground around her with explosive energy.
Her world spun. She struggled to her feet, trying to force herself to run.
A gust of wind slammed her in the back and knocked her down again.
Blistering heat stung for an intense second, flames crashing around her, then it was over.
The throaty roar deafening from behind her confirmed Lark’s fear. That blast of fire came from a dragon.
Rolling onto her back, Lark looked up at the towering beast looming over her.
Its charcoal wings folded, revealing the dragon’s size to be five times that of Ingamar.
He stared down his long snout with pure milk-white eyes.
Seated between six-foot-long spikes protruding from the dragon’s spine was an armored figure.
He wore black brismil plate armor and a helmet with wide horns that curled down beside his head.
The man held a long spear, the tip as big as Tel’s brismil blade.
A copper cloak flapped from around his shoulders.
Marcel? she thought, this rider’s appearance not quite fitting the image she’d crafted in her head.
In an instant, the black dragon’s eyes flashed to a deep golden color.
The rider rose from the saddle, standing atop the dragon’s back as the beast took in its surroundings.
Effortlessly the rider jumped down the twenty-five feet from his giant dragon’s back, landing in a plume of ash.
Hot soot rippled out like a thick fog around his feet as he stood well over six-feet tall in his impressive armor.
Lark found her footing. With her inferior sword, she settled into a defensive stance.
Wind ripped at the rider’s copper cloak as he dropped his spear.
It vanished, brismil’s hallmark afterimage of smoke tearing apart in the gale.
Sparks formed in the air near his horned helmet.
Nix appeared, hanging there in her flaming dress, her eyes angled down as if unable to look at Lark.
Lark’s heart sank. The fire fae remained in the air at the rider’s side.
“Nix, how could you?” Lark whispered.
“Ella,” the rider addressed Lark in a rich, smooth voice.
That name. Sasja had called her that; the name that…
her father called her? Lark furrowed her brow as the sound of his voice teased at a faint memory.
This man was her… no, not her father, but a fatherly figure to her.
She could see his frame outlined before her.
Broad shoulders, proud chest, toned like a soldier.
And his name. His name isn’t Marcel… His name starts with a B? she guessed, unable to remember.
“I see you’ve claimed Tel Roan’s armor as your own,” he observed.
“What have you done to my fae?” she demanded.
“Nix? I haven’t done anything to her. We do not own fae, we can, however, control them when they are in this realm. You’ve lost control of her. Now she does as I command.”
“That’s a lie,” she said raising her chin at him.
“Calm yourself, Ella. We don’t need things to turn violent again. We can go back to how they were, how they used to be.”
“Stop using that name. My name is Lark.”
“Lark? Ah, I see,” he said, placing his hand to his clavicle.
“If you’re here for the Hyalite, I don’t have it.”
“If you did, I’d already have taken it from you. No, I’m not here for the Hyalite you stole, or any powers you may have collected from this storm. I’m here to compel you, Ella. Compel you to tell me where it is. I want back the thing you stole from me,” he said.
“I didn’t steal anything from you,” she said, catching Nix’s droopy eyes.
There was something different about them.
Where they were normally the color of flames, now they burned white-hot, like the dragon’s had when the rider had first landed.
Nix quickly diverted her gaze back down to the spot near the rider’s boots where she’d been staring.
“Oh, Ella, but you have stolen from me. You’ve stolen something very important to me and I need it back,” he said, his smooth voice turning firm at the end.
Rain cascading from the sky sounded in the near distance. Lark flicked her attention to it for a moment, noting the dark gray wall crashing toward them. The rain that struck down so forcefully Venrick had said it could tear them apart, even with brismil armor.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” he said, checking over his shoulder to gauge the distance to the wall of monsoonal rain. “Give me back the gadget you stole, and I won’t fight you anymore.” He stepped forward, extending a hand and wrapping it into a tight fist.
Something prodded at her. She felt a faint familiarity with the sensation as she was forced to try to remember. The memory of the meeting with the Morsythians came forward. Her mind focused in on the golden device placed atop the map of the forest.
No, she thought, forcing the mental probe from her mind.
Rain slapped the ground around them, puffs of ash rising from the fist-sized droplets.
“Ella, stop playing these games. Give me the astral lathe,” he ordered.
Lark’s necklace warmed against her chest. “My name is not Ella.” Something inside her began to stir. “And I’ll never give it to you.”
A source of power vibrated through her. Her necklace burned as it built from somewhere deep inside. She extended her mental arm toward it, feeling the bond. A presence tying her to the power of a god.
“Astra Rapi,” she shouted, the words revealing themselves to her through the fog of her mind.
Raw magic burned through her, passing from the bond, channeling through her body and out her arm. A sphere, glowing bright white and chased with a tail of sparking light circled around her arm, growing as the power released. It flared, shooting forth, rocketing at the enemy rider.
“Fragmos,” he countered.
A swell of stone ripped up from the ground to block Lark’s attack. The comet of Lark’s energy collided with this resurrected ore. The crash clapped, stone exploded, her sphere of gaseous light fractured. The energy fields melded for an instant, then tore apart, creating an ear-splitting KABOOM!
The resulting ripple of energy washed out in all directions slamming into her, sending her flying up and away.
In an instant, Lark was shooting away from the wall of Giving-Rain, crashing out through the canopy.
She reached a moment of weightlessness as she arched out through the smoke.
After several seconds, she released a yell, feeling her trajectory turn as she headed back toward the ground.
Clear sky came into view. She was whipping down through the trees.
She hit the ground with her shoulder blades leading the impact.
A wordless, HUGH escaped before the pain again blurred her vision, nausea rising in her stomach.
“Lark!” was all she heard before she fell unconscious.