Chapter 21 #3
It’s not his creations that we’re worried about now, Syla said. We think he’s coming. Lightning flashed in the sky not far away. If he’s not already here. Is there anything you can do to help? I think this weapons platform is almost out of power.
“The dragons continued on toward Harvest Island,” Fel said from the deck beside her. “Except for that green one. I think that’s Vorik’s.”
Hoping to receive an answer, Syla didn’t shift to look.
Protect humanity. We never meant for this to be. This time, the words stopped there and showed her a vision of herself, limned with silver light.
I don’t have the power to stop a god. I don’t think I can even deal with any more dragons. The reservoir is almost empty.
This vision shifted, showing her again, this time standing on the weapons platform while she was limned in silver. She was shooting magical projectiles out from all four cannon-like posts.
We are far away, the voice said. In time, perhaps we can reach you, but you must protect your people.
Syla was heartened by what sounded like a real answer rather than an old message but also frustrated. How? I—
Fel cursed as white light flashed. Syla looked up in time to see a great bolt of lightning shoot down from the clouds and strike the lighthouse atop the bluff.
The stones shattered and exploded, rubble flying in all directions and splashing down into the sea.
She gaped at what remained, only a few feet of the stone wall around the base.
She hoped poor General Dolok hadn’t been up there.
“That answers my question,” Hixun said, staring. “The shield won’t protect us from the mad god’s ire.”
“And we’re out in the open on ships,” Fel said grimly, but he didn’t move from Syla’s side.
“I wish I knew how to fight back,” she said. “The gods seem to think I should be able to.”
Fel gazed at her, and she realized how silly that would sound to a normal person. He couldn’t know that she’d heard from what she could only assume was the moon god or another deity.
“I wonder if there’s a way to charge the weapons platform, to refuel it, like pouring whale oil into a lantern’s reservoir,” Syla said, more to herself than Fel. “Do you think that would be possible? I should have brought Aunt Tibby out here.”
Overhead, several dragons that had flown past the island soared back into view. They circled below the clouds, fearless.
“She’s better where she is.” Fel eyed the dragons. A number of them were flying over the castle and the bluff and peering down through the barrier. Maybe they’d seen the lighthouse destroyed and found it a promising omen for them.
Syla wished the lightning would strike the enemy dragons.
Wreylith approached, wings spread wide and Vorik on her back. She swooped low, and he jumped off, landing on the deck. Smiling, he started forward, as if he would leap onto the weapons platform to hug Syla, but maybe he thought better of touching her while she was on it.
She hopped off to hug him, though distractedly. She was mulling over how she might recharge a reservoir of pure magical energy for a weapon created by the gods themselves. It wasn’t anything like a lantern.
“I’m relieved you’re well,” Vorik said, returning her embrace, “but we have a problem.”
“We have a lot of problems.”
Vorik looked out toward the sea beyond the barrier. Two of the enemy dragons were arrowing toward Agrevlari. He roared in defiance but was outnumbered and had to fly away.
“I wish he could have come through the barrier with me,” Vorik said. “The tribes are split now, much like the dragons. Some want to answer the storm god’s calling and others… I promised them what you offered, Syla. There was interest.”
Lightning struck again, this time hitting the island farther up on the point.
At least it hadn’t blown up the castle or any buildings in the city—yet.
Back on Harvest Island, most of those strikes had seemed random, but were they still?
After one had blown up the lighthouse, she wondered.
With that ugly face in the clouds, it would be easy to believe the storm god was guiding those strikes.
“I’m glad,” Syla said. “If we can survive this, maybe we can find a way to end the war and have our people live in peace.”
“If we survive this.” Fel pointed upward again. “That’s looking doubtful.”
Syla assumed he was emphasizing the ongoing threat again, but the yellow dragon that Lesva rode had descended from where the others flew about. “Is she…”
“She’s below the barrier,” Fel said with certainty. “Or where the barrier should be.”
Syla’s gaze swung to the bluff, toward the cliffs as she envisioned the tunnels under the castle and the shielder chamber. Had Fograth or someone else down there sabotaged the artifact again?
“The barrier is still present.” Vorik pointed upward but farther out to sea. One of the dragons that had chased off Agrevlari had tried to fly toward the harbor, but it bounced away, sparks appearing where the barrier was. “Lesva must have found a hole.”
“A hole?” Syla asked. “There aren’t any holes. It’s magical.”
“The lightning,” Fel said. “If it has the power of the gods, and the gods made the shielder artifact…”
Syla groaned and rocked back. A hole. A storm-cursed hole. If she couldn’t figure out how to refuel the weapons platform, the dragons and the storm god would destroy all of Castle Island. Maybe all of the Kingdom.