Chapter 9 Help
HELP
My mates all need a moment to recover after I just so mercilessly pulled power from them to get myself out of that connection to Hedda, via her beast. It leaves us in a dire state now, as Jarl Jorg hands around fresh drinks and everyone gives us time to come back to ourselves.
We’re unsettled, however, as the reality of what we’re up against hits us anew.
After we’ve recovered enough, Jarl Jorg asks for a quick rundown of what just happened.
And I tell him, holding nothing back.
“So. Time is of the essence now, if Lithava and Hedda have begun the Black Dragon’s restoration ceremonies,” Jarl Jorg says, as I finish.
Surveying everyone, his gaze pins Strom, then me again.
“We need to make our move with the Soulstone at once, whatever it is to be. We cannot form a proper battle-plan unless we know which direction we are to take. Do we weaken the creature by destroying Hedda’s mates, then entice or trap it somewhere far from the Rift, so we can fight it and have any hope of bringing it down?
Or do we use the Soulstone to glean information from the Void to gain critical insight that might end our worst enemy, though that enemy is uncountably ancient—the Black Rift itself? The choice is yours.”
As Jarl Jorg’s eagle gaze drills into me, I know only I can make this decision.
Because this entire choice rests upon me and my drakes, and our various powers; if we cannot do anything with the Soulstone in the Void, and Lithava gets it somehow, restoring the Black Dragon fully, then Jarl Jorg or even our King’s forces won’t have any hope of battling it.
Only I can make this decision for us; but I’m not a monarchy, my Bloodbond is a collective of equals. As I gaze around my drakes, all of us restored upon our couch, I see readiness in each of their eyes.
Though Bjorn’s hold reticence.
“How do you vote?” I ask them all now, pretty certain I know how this is going to go, though I have to ask.
“Fight the Rift. It’s our only hope of ending all this,” Baldur says immediately, as his dark blue eyes shine, almost cobalt in the light of the chandeliers.
“Risks are taken in war,” Strom agrees as he glances at Baldur, then at me. “Though this risk is massive, using the Soulstone to discover the creation of the Rift, I think it’s worth taking.”
“Some evils never sleep,” Mikkel concurs, his dark eyes flashing viciously. “The Black Rift is an evil that will never sleep until it takes down all of us. Forever.”
“Bjorn?” I ask him now, already knowing my vote, and how his is against it. Somehow, I feel we need this vote to be unanimous if we are going to try such an insane thing with the Soulstone as to find Ancestors so ancient they aren’t even alive in the Void anymore.
Bjorn’s got his arms crossed tight over his chest. From his scowl, I know he still thinks we’re risking too much, using the precious Soulstone for delving into the ancient past, rather than just shattering it and being done with it.
“We do them back-to-back. Promise me, Rikyava,” Bjorn says at last, as he stares me down.
“We do the Bloodwalking ceremony to find the Ancestors who know something about the Rift, then fucking turn right around in that same ceremony and shatter the Soulstone. We can’t risk it falling into Lithava and Hedda’s hands; especially now that they’re already giving the Black Dragon its first power-up.
The second ceremony returns Hedda’s drakes to the beast. She’s going to come for that Soulstone soon, you know it and I know it.
We’re out of time. As soon as we’re powered up enough again to do a proper Bloodwalking, we fucking go for it.
And destroy the Soulstone, just as soon as we’ve gotten the information we need out of it. ”
“I promise.” I give Bjorn my vow as I extend a hand now.
His arms come unwound, and he takes it. I feel my First Drake and I finally come to an accord as we hold hands. Though the situation is dire, it’s what we’ve got, as I feel our togetherness returned to us.
As I gaze around my drakes and know we’re in agreement on this at last, I nod to Jarl Jorg. “We use the Soulstone to tap into the Ancestors’ Void tonight to get information on the Rift. And then we’ll destroy it, posthaste.”
“Good.” Jarl Jorg nods, then rises. He watches our group one last time with his definitive eagle-gaze before pinning his great-grandson with it.
“I need to meet with our King now, so we can digest this further; he has armies to prepare, and so do we. The Old Palace is already on red alert. I will make our forces aware that an attack from Lithava, the False Knights, and probably the Black Dragon, is imminent.”
“Our Bloodbond will gather our strength as quickly as we can, my Jarl,” Strom promises him now, as we all rise from the couches. “We will gain information from the Soulstone, then destroy it.”
“Inform me when it is done, and what we need to do next to end the Rift and the creature.” Jarl Jorg is decisive, as I see him switch into battle mode, rather than gracious host. Flicking his fingers for his family to attend him, plus Svanhild, Olander, and my stepfathers, he says, “Walk with me. We have allies to muster.”
Then he departs.
I have only a moment to hug my stepfathers and give nods of thanks to Svanhild, Olander, Annika, and Strom’s sisters, before everyone goes.
It leaves only me and my drakes in the silent drawing room now, as the fires in the gargantuan fireplaces burn low and we survey the remains of the decimated meal.
Our enjoyment shattered to dire tidings, there’s nothing for it but to rise, take a few bottles of the Jarl’s best, along with a plethora of cigars, and exit the gaming room.
It’s not very late as we make it back to Strom’s tower rooms, the evening stars popping out in the inky velvet sky. The blue nimbus of the Twilight Realm is visible through every vaulted picture window, though I can’t enjoy it as I kick off my stiletto heels and heave a hard sigh.
Laerke is right there with me as she plunks into an overstuffed chair, massaging her likewise bare feet.
“Ugh. I hate how killer high heels are—even ones made in the Twilight Realm.” Her furious scowl could cut iron as she works out the knots in her feet, almost obsessively.
“A real battle-drakaina wears boots,” I concur as I sit beside her and roll out my ankles. All my drakes watch us now, as they kick off their own shoes, or in Bjorn’s case, unlace his tactical ankle-boots.
“Too bad I chose a profession in the club scene.” Laerke gives me the smallest conspiratorial smile, which I return. Our camaraderie is the only thing that makes me smile right now, with everything we’re up against. I wonder at that, feeling a strange energy shared between us again.
Though Laerke suddenly shuts it down, I wonder what’s been going on with our magics. I don’t push into it now, however, since we have bigger things to address.
I’ve always considered Laerke to be like a sister, but it’s almost as if my Bloodwalker power is finally trying to make a connection to her—though one that’s different from my drakes.
It leaves us both confused now, as she pauses, watching me.
Coming to us, Mikkel raises his eyebrows, glancing between us.
“Laerke? What’s going on? Are you trying to steal my mate?” Mikkel jests now, though his tongue always cuts like a blade, and Laerke jerks in shock.
“What? No!” she protests, her gaze shying to me, then away. “I’m just… tired, that’s all. Besides, drakainas aren’t my thing.”
“We’re all tired.” Mikkel chuckles, though he’s still got his eyes narrowed on his sister, then me. “Something is going on between you two, though, ever since the battle at the Rift. I can feel it moving all through my magic like electricity zinging between you both.”
“My Bloodwalker power has never gone after Laerke as a mate, Mikkel. It never wanted your sister’s power as food, only yours.” I protest now, then look at her. “No offense.”
“None taken,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. “Perhaps your bond is simply exhausted after all these continued shenanigans with the Rift and the Black Dragon, and your power is looking elsewhere for a little casual takeout. I’m honored, but not interested.”
“Regardless, there’s something—” But even though Mikkel’s like a dog with a bone right now, not about to let this go, Bjorn steps in.
“Give it up, Mikkel,” Bjorn says with a low basso rumble of warning as he steps before my chair, facing off with Mikkel.
“Rikyava’s Bloodbond isn’t trying to go after your sister.
We’ve already got bloodline matches to the Black Dragon Five in our bond, two Blood Sages and Two Bone Mages with Aesa’s silver rings for each, so there’s no need for anyone else in our Bloodbond.
What we need to be focusing on right now is powering up so we can get into a Bloodwalking ritual ASAP. And you’re holding us back.”
“Whoa, easy, Bjorn!” Strom comes to Mikkel’s aid now, stepping in between my Third Drake and my First as Mikkel and Bjorn bristle at each other.
“You’re not really helping the getting-sexy situation.
We need to be focusing on how we all get freaky right now and restore our power, so we can even think about doing a proper Bloodwalking.
Not tearing into each other and breeding contentiousness, pushing us further away from group sex. ”
“While I agree with Strom, I’m beat.” Baldur is magnanimous now as he moves forward, settling one hip against the glass and chrome dining table and crossing his lean arms. He shakes his head.
“I want to help us achieve arousal, but I’ve never been further from the mood, with everything we’re up against. And after that awful vision we all experienced through Rikyava just now when she touched the Black Dragon’s mind… ” He shakes his head again.