Chapter 12
I dodge the attack, throwing my body weight into a few extra tumbles in case the flames caught on my clothing.
A glowing trail streaks across the floor where Lucan and I were standing.
Tiny flames dance over the tile, giving off barely enough light to see the ominous shadows of the dragon statue looming over us.
I inhale deeply, an unnatural, metallic, ozone-like scent filling my nose.
It’s followed by a soft, rhythmic clicking sound overhead.
“Move!” I scramble to my feet, jumping over the line of flames. There’s nothing more I can do to help Lucan without endangering myself even more. He’ll have to manage on his own.
Another ball of flame lights up the darkness as I skid to a halt in front of the blue dragon tapestry, chest heaving. Movement to my right and a series of curses tells me Lucan heeded my warning, but barely.
“What the—” Lucan is cut off by his own shock.
There’s not just one dragon statue in the room with us any longer.
The flames might as well be a beacon in the near-perfect darkness.
They glitter off the copper sheen of a second metal dragon.
The tapestry that depicted the copper dragon has rolled up on the wall, and the dragon stands proudly in the room, as if emerging from its roost.
“It’s an automaton. Not real.” I pant softly. My heart is galloping inside my ribs, wild and erratic. Even if I know it’s not real, my body sure thinks it is, including my scar, which is itching unbearably.
Another burst of flame from the copper dragon finally illuminates Lucan’s face enough for me to see the exasperated look he’s giving me. “Obviously it’s not real.”
“Well, I—” I don’t get to finish. Cold has sunk through the leather of my jerkin, and I realize that it’s not just the copper dragon that was waiting for us. My breath frosts in the air.
He seems to realize the chill haze slipping under the blue tapestry at our side at the same time I do.
But where Lucan dashes away, I freeze in place, eyes closed, panting.
“Isola?” he calls back.
I can’t reply. Move, I command my muscles as the churning of gears and rattling of metal fill my ears. Move! They’re not real.
“Isola!”
The tapestry rolls up like the curtain of the worst stage play I could ever imagine. A massive statue of a blue dragon rumbles out at my side, and all I can do is stare wide-eyed and utterly terrified. My whole body is locked up.
“I seriously thought you were better than this!”
Spite is apparently the motivator I needed.
I push away from the automaton before the frost creeps over my shoulders.
Lucan has sprinted to the silver dragon that’s materialized from behind its tapestry.
I follow his lead. Not because I want to team up with him, but because he has the right idea.
The silver dragon might be bloodthirsty, but it doesn’t spit fire or acid or freeze the ground it’s standing on.
And for as long as we stay in its blind spot by its haunches, its scales should shield against the other three…
at least until the green dragon emerges next to us.
“Thanks for finally following my lead,” he says dryly.
“Shut up,” I snap back, breathless from the run.
“Wish you showed the dragons that same ferocity. Some hero you are.” He and Cindel will get along amazingly in here. Maybe she can have him after all. Not that it’s any of my business.
“Weren’t you the one to say I’m ‘stronger than any of them could ever imagine’?
Or was that just to make me think I could trust you?
” I jerk my face in his direction with a glare, repeating his words from the one day we had one-on-one training together.
The day he was in charge and I thought I could convince him to let me skip.
He returns the intensity of my stare with equal challenge. Both of our chests are heaving. My body is flush with shame, embarrassment, anger, and whatever this annoying feeling is that he twists in me.
“I want to believe it, but you’re proving me wrong.”
He just knows how to get under my skin.
I’m not who they think I am. I really believe I survived that dragon attack because I am some kind of weird dragon cursed—one that showed early and in a way people haven’t seen before—rather than because I’m Valor Reborn.
Without warning, he grabs my biceps, and a jolt surges through me at the touch.
It’s like the rush of the first time Saipha and I raced up one of the towers in the wall.
Like the first gust of wind from the outside world that battered my face.
I inhale sharply and, for a second, can almost taste that crisp winter air that rolls off the Nightgale Mountains.
“So prove me right, Isola. How do we stop these?” he challenges.
I’m about to ask why in the dragon-burned hells he thinks I’d know, but I quickly shut my mouth.
Maybe I do know… These are automatons, and my father is the best artificer in all of Vinguard.
If anyone knows how to mix metal and magic, it’s him.
Which means it’s something like one of the various projects he’s shown me over the years in his workshop.
This is a puzzle I can solve, not just survive.
My thoughts scatter again the moment a burst of flame shoots over the blue and silver drag—no—automatons, exploding against the wall behind us.
“How is it still tracking us?” he grumbles.
“A sigil that senses Etherlight. If I had to guess, it’s been designed to recognize the other dragons as friendly and anything else that uses Etherlight as a threat.
Even if we’re not actively drawing Etherlight, it still flows through us and around us.
It’s in everything.” I explain the theory Mum taught me about Etherlight as I simultaneously try to think of how my father might go about building these.
He might not have let me see any sigils, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t tell me theory.
For all I know, he did build these. Actually… Is this what the vicar was asking about last night?
“Oh, thank Valor’s legacy.” It’s almost impossible to see Lucan in the few lingering flames from the last explosion, but I can hear the faintest hope in his voice when he asks, “So you do know how to stop them?”
I press my back into the wheeled podium that the silver dragon—still blessedly immobile—rests upon and close my eyes, forcing myself to imagine Father’s workshop.
He’s explaining how fire ignites along a line of rare sludge collected by Mercy Knights from the swamps outside the wall.
My eyes follow Father’s movements as he shows me the gears, the oiled springs, and the threads that connect artificer sigils to allow Etherlight to be drawn through the machine to bring it to life.
He asks me questions about how I think it works, inviting me to find solutions for myself—he loved to give me little puzzles as a girl.
“Even if it flows through them, objects can’t actively draw on Etherlight, since they’re not conscious.
So there must be a primary sigil to draw it from the Font to power the other sigils that are making them move and attack.
Think of it like a heart. If we can disrupt that core sigil, then the rest should—” At last, the moment I’ve been dreading arrives.
The silver beast comes to life with a swing. Its claws shear through the dim light. I fall and press my body against the floor, trying to make myself as small as possible when suddenly my bones feel three sizes too large.
All I see is death coming for me years ago. The dragon on the rooftop and its smoldering maw. The talons that will rip me to ribbons. Its claw puncturing my chest.
A scream tears from my lips as the talon becomes real. My back is pierced by the silver dragon, straight through my leather jerkin and shirt to the flesh, severing a line between my shoulders. My body shrieks with pain as blood warms my sides.
And still, I can’t move. I’m frozen. My heart skips and sputters, and my joints ache as though every one has been dipped in acid.
The whir of the machine fills my ears. I brace myself. Another whiz of a strike through the air, this time low, followed by a violent thump that rattles and cracks the marble floor. That must’ve been its tail.
But it missed me.
I’m pulled up and away from the spot where I was cowering and find myself yanked halfway across the hall, past the center statue that—thank Valor—is still unmoving. For a dizzying moment, I think Saipha’s come to my aid. But it’s not her.
Lucan slams me against the far wall, his body shielding me. I cry out at what feels like an explosion in my back where I was injured. Then he pulls me by my collar to the right. We tumble as another burst of flame strikes where we just were. The smoldering remnants illuminate his fury.
“Pull yourself together, Isola! We’re not getting out of this without you.” He shakes me, and I fight stars of pain as my eviscerated back cries out in protest. This is worse than every one of the vicar’s beatings during training, but somehow I’m not crying. “Where’s this ‘heart’ sigil?”
“Somewhere at the center.” My words are thin, caught between shallow and labored breaths. The gouge on my back sends shock waves of pain throughout my body.
“Great, so do we just politely ask them where their entry hatch is, or…?”
“Are you always this charming?” Scowling at him miraculously dulls the pain.
“You think this is charming? You should spend more time with me not during near-death experiences.” He flashes a broad smile that I make a show of gagging at.
“I need light. If I’m going to get into the guts of these beasts, I’ll have to see what I’m doing.” I quickly uncinch the laces of my jerkin.
“Moving a bit fast for my liking.” The words are playful, but he speaks in a very uncertain manner.
“You wish.” I step away from him and shout, jerkin balled in my fist. “Hey, copper piece of dragon shit! Over here!”