Chapter 35
Chapter
Thirty-Five
Despair crawled through Luka’s veins.
Izzy wasn’t on the path, and he’d been so certain she would be. Just like Rayan. Gods, he’d searched just like this, every second feeling more—
The path looks different.
He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the path rather than looking for life.
It was smoother here and somehow better preserved.
A chill slid over him. It wasn’t like this when he’d searched for Rayan.
He remembered circling this distant stretch of the Nabasberg so clearly.
Three years ago, the path turned toward a high barrier of tumbled rocks and an impenetrable wall of brambles, ferns, and vines.
He banked, circling closer in the fading light.
Since then, someone had cleared a small opening.
The rocks that barred the path were gone, and from the air, he could see a tiny gap in the brambles.
He soared higher. Lush foliage rose from a narrow chasm—only just visible from above—and something gleamed at the bottom.
She’s in there. It’ll be easier to sneak in as a man.
Luka flew a little way back to where the Nabaspath was more spacious and landed lightly.
Whether it was because he was so close to the heat of the mountain, or because he and his beast were utterly unified in their need to reach Izzy, his shift back to human was the smoothest it had ever been.
He grunted as the pain washed over him, but he kept his feet.
The rising wind whipped around him as the first heavy drops of rain landed on his hot skin, and the waves crashed loudly on the rocks below.
He hardly noticed as he surveyed the path ahead.
He pulled on his armor, belted his sword at his waist, and sheathed one dagger at his back, one at his waist. Then he stepped silently onto the path, picking his way over the cracked marble, and scanning for danger as he slipped past the brambles.
The air was sweet and humid, and a pair of sun-gem birds darted to and fro, sampling the honey-bell flowers in the protected chasm. It would have felt magical if he hadn’t been so terrified of what he would find at the end of the path.
Ahead of him, bronze-plated stairs—the source of the glint he’d seen from above—led to a massive door, celebrating the Twins as drakes with gems and precious metals. There was no doubt that this was the entrance to the lost temple of the gods… and a trap.
The door stood open just a few inches, clearly meant to entice him inside. And he had no choice but to enter. Luka crept forward, taking care to make sure that his shadow never crossed the slim gap where the door stood ajar, and stilled, listening.
Silence greeted him. The heat of the mountain rose around him, heavy with the weight of centuries of worship and the following centuries of decay. The thudding of his own heavy heartbeat echoed inside him.
Izzy was in there. But where? How deep had Dashiell taken her? Was she hurt? Already dying? Shane and the others would follow, but they were too far behind. He didn’t dare wait, not when every second could mean the difference.
He drew his sword, then put his free hand on the great shining door and pushed.
“Stop! It’s a trap!” Izzy screamed frantically from within the temple as it swung open.
It didn’t matter. He could never leave her. He raised his sword as he sidestepped carefully, peering into the darkness. Izzy screamed again as he stalked forward another cautious step, and then he recoiled as a booming clang echoed behind him.
Luka glanced back to see that a huge portcullis had slammed shut behind him.
He ignored it to face the danger at his front and continued forward, sword raised.
His eyes adjusted to the gloom, and what he saw almost broke him.
His beast roared with horror, thrashing and demanding to be free, but he couldn’t risk it.
Izzy was kneeling with her hands tied behind her back and her pale face streaked with dirt and tears.
Beside her, one hand twisted in her hair, the other holding a needle blade to her throat, stood Dashiell.
Gone was the sincere young sergeant, earnestly showing Luka where he’d found Narya’s dead body and offering to help. Gone was the friendly guard, looking for a place in the castle. This man was cold and stern, and his eyes glittered with smug conceit. Dashiell thought he’d won.
Not yet, Luka’s beast growled. Not while I have claws and teeth and breath left in my body.
The ancient portcullis blocked their path back.
A quick glance up showed ancient sky lattices that were far too narrow for a drake and far too high for a human.
Ahead, he could only see pools of steaming water and darkness.
They were trapped in the temple, with no way out, and he didn’t dare take even one step closer with that vicious blade pressed into Izzy’s vulnerable neck.
“What do you want?” Luka asked.
“Gods, you even sound like each other,” Dashiell grumbled. “Put down your weapons and go to the other end of the temple. When you get there, you’ll find an altar with a lamp. Light it.”
“Don’t do it,” Izzy called, crying out as Dashiell tightened his grip on her hair.
God of Chaos. “Give her to me, and I’ll do whatever you want,” Luka argued.
Dashiell chuckled. “You must think I’m an idiot.”
“I don’t. Please—”
Dashiell pushed his blade further into Izzy’s skin, and she whimpered.
“Don’t hurt her! I’ll do it!” Luka dropped his sword to the floor.
“And all the daggers.”
Luka added them to the pile.
“Now… the altar.”
Luka looked at Izzy, wishing he hadn’t fucked everything up so thoroughly. She watched him with wide, terrified eyes as he lifted his hands into an Infinite Circle—hoping his silent salute communicated at least some of the words he couldn’t say—and then turned away.
He stepped carefully around rocks and puddles of hot water, following the path that had clearly been walked recently to the darkened rear of the temple.
Once he was closer, he could make out a raised dais holding two crouching dragons carved from ophite.
Their dark wings were raised, wingtips supporting a huge bronze slab to form a majestic altar.
A cheap lamp stood—completely out of place—on one side, with a flint, steel, and tinderbox beside it.
Luka lit the lamp and held it up to reveal, not a back wall like he’d expected, but a series of elegant arches.
They were plastered with lime and covered from floor to ceiling with a vibrant array of stunning murals: gold-clad stewards oversaw great steelworks, a castle with vast domes and arches soared above a city, sleek cattle grazed in lush fields, and a magnificent dragon took flight over the Nabasberg.
And embedded in every mural, carved into the pedestals of columns, and at the highest point of the arches, two dragons twisted sinuously together—Order and Chaos, overseeing it all.
Luka lifted the lamp higher, ignoring the way his talons clicked against the iron sides, and looked through the arches.
They led to a cobbled cloister, its floor cracked in a harsh diagonal, as if some terrible power had forced the earth up on that vast seam.
Past the covered passageways around the perimeter, an echoing darkness suggested doorways leading even deeper into the mountain.
“To your right,” Dashiell’s voice broke into the silence.
Luka turned to see that the former soldier had hauled Izzy up and was pushing her in front of him.
He’d stripped off the ropes that had bound her, using the needle blade against her throat to control her.
They were closer, but there was still no way to get to her.
Not yet.
Luka stepped through the arch on his right, into a narrow hallway. At the end, against the rocky wall, a strange-looking contraption hung at the top of a pitch-dark, open shaft that seemed to drop away into the bowels of the mountain.
Crisscrossed iron bars formed the walls of the device, while its floor was made of flattened iron slats covered with mhoba wood.
Above it was a winch and pulley system that someone had fitted with a brand-new, steel-threaded hemp rope.
Beside it, built into the stone of the wall, was an iron wheel with a red gem embedded in the top, set toward an engraved image of an open spiral. “What does this do?” Luka asked warily.
“It’s a kind of hoist,” Dashiell answered.
“It’s quite clever. Turning the wheel diverts the steam from inside the mountain to power the brakes on the mechanism so it can be safely lifted and lowered.
” He tilted his head toward an iron lever built into one of the bars inside the mechanism.
“That’s where we—or rather, you—manage the brakes. ”
“How do you know what it does?” Izzy asked. She was close now, just a little further than arms’ reach. Close enough to see the tremble in her fingers and the blood staining her soft throat. But still too far. If he tried to reach her, Dashiell would kill her before he got to her.
“I figured it out,” Dashiell replied, as if it was obvious.
It wasn’t obvious, but it was clever. Gods, so much had been lost within the temple. Perhaps his beast had been right all these years; they should not have bowed to superstitious dread. They should have been here, reopening the mountain.
“Turn the wheel, then climb in,” Dashiell ordered.
“Don’t do it,” Izzy argued, her eyes shining unnaturally in the flickering light.
Luka didn’t move. “I’m not leaving her.”
“We’re coming too,” Dashiell snapped. “Turn the wheel.”
Izzy kept her eyes on Luka’s. “Don’t. He’ll use us against each other forever.”
Gods, Luka wanted to hold her. To touch her. To tell her that he would do anything for her.
I want to kill Dashiell and throw his body off the mountain in tiny pieces. Then Izzy and I will celebrate… for hours.
That too. Once Izzy was safely at his side, not even Chaos could save Dashiell. Luka glared at the treacherous guard while his beast muttered about ripping out his throat.
Dashiell pressed his blade deeper into Izzy’s precious skin. “She’ll die before you reach me,” he growled.
Izzy must have seen the rage in Luka’s eyes.
She leaned forward, almost onto the knife blade.
“Do it. Attack him,” she whispered roughly.
“Fight. And if I die… then there’ll be nothing to stop you destroying him and the business he’s built on misery.
He takes their claws, Luka. The dead drakes’ claws! That’s how he makes Firebreather.”
Luka’s stomach heaved. How could someone do something like that? His own talons burned his fingers like fire.
“If we listen to him now, we’ll be caught forever,” Izzy continued. “He’s going to sell us.” A tear slid down her face, her expression twisting with misery and rage. “Don’t let him.”
Luka paused, suspended between needs. The overpowering drive to kill Dashiell as his beast demanded—to listen to Izzy, do what she asked, and rip apart the man who hurt her—competed with his need to wait. To be careful and cautious. To never, ever, risk her.
His beast withdrew, coiled and alert, but no longer roaring for blood. You’re right. First we save our mate. Then we’ll shred the traitor.
“I’m ready,” Izzy urged once more. “Kill him before he takes us down there.”
“No,” Luka rasped. “You’re asking me to do something I cannot do. I won’t risk you, not like that. So long as we’re together, there’s still hope.” He started to reach for her and then let his hand fall. He didn’t dare touch her. “I love you.”
He didn’t wait to see her reaction. He couldn’t bear to see shock and disbelief in her eyes. Instead, he spun toward the hoist and settled his hands on the wheel. He had to get it moving before Izzy tried to sacrifice herself again.