Chapter 27 Like a Meteor
LIKE A METEOR
“Turn around! Ingamar, turn back!” Venrick shouted, holding on for his life. He was completely subject to the whims of the dragon.
Venrick twisted uncomfortably in the saddle, trying to see through the thicket of smoke to locate the other dragonrider. But the smoke was too thick. He couldn’t see below where Lark had fallen.
Venrick pounded his fist against Ingamar’s neck. “You can’t leave her like this! Go back, Ingamar.”
Ingamar ignored him, flying away from the fire.
In the forest below, Venrick spotted Storm Keep soldiers who’d pushed beyond their territory to occupy Tel’s region of the forest. They fled, Northerners and orcs chasing them as they retreated with their prize.
Behind the storm, the black stain of fire glistened in the monsoonal moisture. No sign of the dragonrider or Lark.
Ingamar dipped, rolling into a dive for the ground, far too close to the fleeing soldiers.
“What are you doing now, Ingamar? We can’t get to Lark from back here,” he said.
Ingamar tucked his wings in, dropped through the canopy, then flared to slow himself before landing hard.
Venrick jostled in the saddle, coming out of his seat and nearly falling off before the dragon trotted to a stop.
Ingamar did not wait for Venrick to dismount.
He dropped his shoulder, acting like he was going to roll.
“Whoa, whoa,” Venrick shouted, leaping off, landing in a tuck-and-roll.
Thundering hoofs sounded.
“Ashes, we’re going to be overrun by the Northerners,” Venrick said, drawing Stormbreaker. Adrenaline rushed through his body. With the energy from the blade passing through him, he was much faster, stronger, and more powerful. “I can do this,” he told himself, dropping into a fighting stance.
Curiously, Ingamar sat on his haunches, waiting for something as he scanned the sky above.
“Hee-yah,” Ezra hollered as he and Hardin rounded the corner. Thunder and Giant galloped ahead, eyes wide, nostrils flared. Without receiving a command from the dwarf, Thunder and Giant drew to a halt before passing Ingamar and Venrick.
“Venrick, where’s Lark?” Ezra asked, hopping off the wagon, scanning the trees, rolling the war hammer shaft in both hands.
“She fell,” he said.
“Lark’s dead?” Hardin gasped.
“No, she fell off Ingamar. There was another rider.”
“I didn’t see any rider fly within the borders of Lamar,” Ezra said.
“It had to be a Northern rider because Storm Keep already had two Paragons there, an elf and a mage.”
“Two Paragons from Storm Keep and a Nordraven dragonrider? There must’ve been a Hyalite,” Ezra said.
“No, the Paragons from Storm Keep must’ve already been in the forest when this storm started.
With Tel gone and the Vermillion Keep in the midst of contract negotiations, they were trying to expand the region that they patrol.
The Nordraven rider, though, that was a shock to them, as it was to us.
There were only Yogos with this storm. The Paragons fled at the first sign of him.
The Northern’s dragon was huge. From what I could tell of its shadow, it had to be four or five times larger than Ingamar. ”
A chilling howl rose in the near distance, a second quick to follow. Ezra snapped to attention, facing the forest to the north.
“Nordraven brought wolves,” he said.
“I barely made it around the flank of their soldiers before entering the burn. I saw the wolves fleeing before I found Lark. She’d been fighting Morsythians, one of them was wielding power through a ruby amulet.”
“Morsythians don’t have any interest in magic. Why would they be here?” Ezra said.
“Where are these red amulets coming from?” Hardin asked.
“It’s the third I’ve seen in a month,” Venrick said, not letting on that the one he was forced to wear around his neck was of the same make.
Several soldiers ran past within view. A group of three stopped, veering toward the wagon until they spotted Ingamar staring up at the sky. The soldiers chose wisely and continued running.
“I have a feeling that we’re about to see more in a moment,” Ezra said.
“I have to go back for Lark,” Venrick said.
“I’m coming with you.”
“You’ll only slow me down.”
“You’ll be torn to shreds by the Giving-Rain,” Ezra said.
“She could be facing Marcel Heartfell for all we know, alone, and without a dragon’s support. I’m going.”
“My wards can help protect us. I’m coming with you, Venrick.”
“Hey, what in the world is that?” Hardin said, pointing overhead.
A figure catapulted out from the smoke cloud, trailing tendrils of magical essence. Ingamar sprung from his coiled tail, launching himself into the air to chase.
“That’s her,” Ezra shouted, taking off after Ingamar.
Venrick sprinted off through the forest, dodging oncoming soldiers from Storm Keep.
With the power of the brismil blade channeling through him, he sent a driving pulse of the dragon’s power through his legs to leap high into the air.
Ingamar was ahead of him, but Lark fell like a stone, streaking down and disappearing from view into the trees.
Ingamar darted in after her. Venrick’s heart skipped a beat.
He knew Ingamar wasn’t going to make it.
Venrick couldn’t bound there fast enough.
In a fit of anger, he landed among the Northern orcs, letting Stormbreaker dispense his rage.
By the time he reached Lark, Ingamar was shielding her with his wings.
The green forest around him was charred black from his fire breath.
The ground smoldered with the remains of the Northerners who had tried to approach.
Golden light ebbed from his body down onto her, glancing off the protective magic inherent to the brismil armor.
“Lark,” Venrick said, seeing her limp body in Ingamar’s claws.
Ingamar growled, his lip quivering in Venrick’s direction.
“I know you’re not mad at me,” Venrick said, continuing to approach with his hands open, arms spread wide. “Why did you choose to save me instead of her?”
Ingamar snapped at Venrick, a glob of spittle landing near the half-elf’s feet.
“By now you should know that I’m not trying to kill her. I might be able to help,” Venrick said.
Ingamar narrowed his eyes, then recoiled his neck, allowing Venrick to approach.
Venrick scanned Lark. The brismil armor remained intact around her body, meaning she was still alive.
Brismil armor returned to the single dragon scale if the wearer died.
Venrick didn’t know what to do. Lark’s body could be shattered inside from the fall.
He knew brismil armor protected against blows from mortal weapons and could only be broken by dragons or other brismil weapons.
Ashes, Lark, what happened to you back there? he thought.
Ingamar growled again, but when Venrick looked up, the dragon’s attention was focused on Ezra and Hardin.
Both were panting, having just passed around the edges of the fleeing armies.
Ezra’s war hammer was slicked with gore, Hardin’s shirt spotted with his own blood where he’d narrowly missed being mortally wounded on his side and shoulder.
“I don’t know how to get the armor off,” Venrick said.
Ezra lowered his head as he approached, Ingamar growled but allowed them to continue. “Can you use her own hand to get a grip on the scale harness strap?” Ezra asked.
Venrick picked up Lark’s limp arm, trying to run her hand in over the place where the brismil scale was secured to her side. Her hand passed through the chest plate but without her grip, he couldn’t force the mechanism to open and release the scale from her skin. “It’s not working.”
Hardin placed a hand on Venrick’s shoulder. “Let me try,” he said.
“It won’t work if she’s not conscious enough to grip it. If she’s paralyzed, she won’t be able to get herself out.”
However, Hardin didn’t use Lark’s arm. He searched with both hands at Lark’s side, feeling for where the scale was located.
Venrick watched in awe as his hand sank through the plate armor.
A moment later, the brismil armor disappeared, the scale loose in the harness where he’d released the latching mechanism.
“Ward Walkers can breach brismil?” Ezra said in disbelief.
Venrick’s attention was solely focused on Lark. He checked her for obvious signs of injury, not seeing any bones protruding through skin or puddles of blood, but that didn’t mean she didn’t suffer internal injuries from her fall.
His hand fell to her forehead, feeling her temperature with the back of it. He spread her eyes open, seeing the pupils dilate. He pinched her finger, the color returning instantly. As he watched her chest rise, counting her breaths, a weak voice said, “Venrick, my eyes are up here.”
“Lark, you’re alive,” he said, cupping the side of her face.
She attempted a smile, then winced when trying to move.
“Don’t move just yet. We need to make sure you didn’t break anything serious,” Venrick said.
Lark winced again, ignoring his advice and pushed herself into a seated position. “What, are you a field medic, too?”
“Squire for a Paragon, remember?” he said. “Now seriously, don’t move any more until I’m finished examining you.”
“Ouch!” Lark winced at Venrick’s touch on her back. “Stop treating me like I’m porcelain and let me get up.”
“Lark, you should be dead. You just launched out over the forest. You probably went over a mile and fell hundreds of feet. Look at the depression you made in the ground; you were like an ashing meteor.”
“I was in brismil armor,” she said, her body tender with pain.
“I’ve never heard of anyone taking a fall like that in brismil armor and surviving,” Venrick said.
“This armor is like having a dragon’s hide for protection. Dragons can still be broken by falling from the sky,” Ezra said.
“Then why wasn’t I?” Lark asked.
“Maybe she has Yita’s gifts, isn’t she the goddess of gravity and healing?” Hardin suggested.
“All dragonriders have some healing powers, but if she had Yita’s, she could’ve controlled her fall.”