Chapter 35 #2
The real leviathan exploded from the sand, its growl echoing that of its new opponent.
As the scaled creature shifted its attention, Danek pressed his swirling sandstorm forward.
He only had his sword now, and judging by the look of the leviathan, he wouldn’t be piercing any of its scales.
He’d have to start with the eyes, the only soft tissue he could see.
Danek didn’t think. He pushed the tornado forward and leapt into the air, landing on the beast’s neck.
The hard scales pierced his hand on impact, but Danek refused to acknowledge the pain as he climbed each sharp scale.
He quickly scanned its body before the leviathan pushed into the sand.
He wouldn’t survive being burrowed underneath.
His attention caught on a fluttering flap near the side of the neck.
He was already soaring over the top of the beast’s head.
The eyes were red with a yellow center, and vertical black slits pulsed as the leviathan hurtled toward Danek’s conjured magic.
He took hold and surfed along its skull, preparing for impact.
There would be none against his image. It would dissipate the moment the beast crashed.
The impact would go straight into the sand.
Now or never.
Danek unsheathed his blade and drove it straight down, the tip piercing the black slit of the eye.
The leviathan screamed, its growl reverberating every inch of its body.
Danek twisted the whirlwind forward and launched himself into the air, ripping his sword out with him.
He spun in the swirling sand before stabilizing his body again.
The exhaustion of the heat and the exertion of magic weighed heavily on him, and he began to tremble.
Where the hell was Connak?
The leviathan thrashed on the ground, throwing waves of sand like tidal breakers.
Danek peered over the wind and searched the creature’s neck.
He could see the flap opening and closing, a faint beating underneath.
The path to its heart. He only had one straight shot at it before the beast crushed him.
Twisting the path of the sandstorm, he changed directions.
The scorching winds blew through his hair, searing his eyes.
As soon as he fell into position, he shot through winds and dove straight into the beast. He rode that gust like a thrown spear, arms outstretched, sword flashing in desert light.
The leviathan continued to writhe. With all the momentum his storm could give him, Danek charged into its skull and along its spine, riding it like a collapsing mountain.
Meeting his mark, he ripped the wind through its gill-like vent and plunged the blade into the cavity, but not deep enough. Danek pushed one more gust of wind, a storm to tear the leviathan apart. It pushed the blade in further, ripping scales and sinew. The wind howled like a thousand blades.
Danek hurled off the beast and rolled down the sand as the leviathan crashed into the dunes, choking on its own blood.
Golden-blue arcs of magic crackled around him in the storm’s eye, and then everything went still.
The beast stopped writhing, and Danek released his magic.
If he survived the exhaustion setting in, he’d have one hell of a story to tell Broan.
He couldn’t wait to see his face light up at the thought of Danek taking on this huge beast with his magic.
Danek panted and jolted at the sound of footsteps. He couldn’t fight any more sandwraiths.
Sitting up, his focus landed on Connak. “You’ve been there the whole time?”
“Not the whole time.” Connak’s lips tugged upward. “I freed some slaves. Sandwraiths abandoned ship the minute you conjured a second leviathan.”
Danek lay back in the sand, the heat unbearable now. Connak poured a canteen of water over his face and healed the burns on his skin. Danek only groaned.
“Come on,” Connak said, pulling at him until he stood upright. He draped Danek’s arm around his shoulder and pulled him across the dunes. “The ship is empty aside from some slaves taking rest. We’ll get you back to your full health.”
—Connak—
Connak had big plans for Danek. The only way he’d ever ascend into a savage fighter of the Hollow Blades was through the sandwraiths.
He didn’t know whether the leviathan would be part of the picture, but he suspected it would be.
The rumors of the wards indicated the beast could wake.
That was better training than any sandwraith.
Danek was strong. His ascension had restored his deep-rooted power, giving him access to everything he needed to fight against the enemy, along with his stolen memories.
Why the Eternal Mother didn’t give him the kiss of magic after was beyond Connak’s comprehension.
Danek certainly deserved it—the mark of a purpose greater than himself, magic sharpened to a single, undeniable will.
The beast Danek conjured sent every single sandwraith running from their base.
Connak wanted to boast and take the credit, but he knew Danek’s success didn’t come from any training he had provided.
Connak leaned against the boarded-up planks inside the ship and looked around.
Danek lay in a cot, eyes closed, with cold cloths against his forehead.
A woman held a boy, not but twelve or thirteen years old.
They curled together in a corner, their rags tattered and torn.
Another man, much larger and stronger than the others, kept to himself.
They reeked of desert and human filth, but at least they stopped crying after Connak healed their wounds.