Chapter 23 Lost #2
“We’ll get him back, Rikyava. I swear it.” Strom grips my hand, nearly crushing my fingers in his fervor.
“Will we?” I sob again, as the most awful heaviness settles inside me now, despite all the love surrounding me from family and friends.
Because nothing has gone to plan so far. The realization that none of us is going to survive this swamps me then, as I grip Strom’s hand and sob harder, wanting to believe him but knowing I don’t.
The Black Dragon will rage now, with Hedda’s drakes and the Rift to superpower it. It will devour everything from the land and skies; and we have nothing left but a broken Bloodbond now to counter it. Without Bjorn’s furious love, and his ability to yoke all our powers together as one, we’re lost.
And we will lose everything now—completely.
“We will not let that happen, Rikyava.” Strom’s decisive voice cuts into my inner darkness, as he feels what’s going on inside me. He corrals me close, kissing my lips as we sit beside Bjorn, making me feel his beautiful passion as he pours it like fire and riverwater down my throat.
Strom’s not giving up; neither are any of my drakes or Laerke, as they crowd close around me now, touching my cheeks, petting my hair, and kissing me.
A part of me is still distant, locked in fear, though I melt into them now, letting their passion and certainty fill me.
I need to believe in something, as they crowd around and hold me now.
Our tense knot of terror and love finally brightens something that was missing inside my heart.
But before we do whatever we’re going to do to try to get Bjorn back from the Black Dragon, I know we have other concerns to attend to, as I remember Bjorn’s battle against his father and the outcome.
Our King was lost in the skies. As I whisk away my tears, glancing up at Strom, I know he feels my intense need to know what happened.
As he fills me in, his face grim.
“King Huttr was lost in the battle. We don’t know where he is now,” Strom says, as our Bloodbond sits with us, others standing around stone-faced.
“Prince Halfdir will live; Mormor Annika and Mathilde have been healing him, along with the best of our remaining Old Palace healers. But the Black Dragon seized our King, as Bjorn fell from his father’s blast. Lithava and her drakes flashed through a portal with the Usurper, and the Black Dragon had our King in its talons.
Baldur couldn’t hold our portal for anyone to go after them, though.
We had to get through here just before his portal collapsed.
None of us knows what happened to our King… or if he’s still alive.”
“They’ll be headed back to the cavern of the Black Rift.
Lithava still needs to return all of Hedda to the creature to complete the Black Dragon’s second ritual,” I say, knowing what comes next.
“Then the third and final ritual with the Black Dragon will begin. With our King as bait, for us to send everyone we have to fight for him. And lose all Blood Dragondom to the Black Rift, as the Black Dragon devours us.”
“Essentially,” Strom says with a heavy heart, knowing like me that we’ve lost all advantage.
“Another one of Hedda’s tests, attacking Stockholm to make me power-up even harder into my Bloodwalker to save my uncle and cousin when they were hit by the Black Dragon’s heart-curse—then steal our King out from under us.
” I am bitter, even as Mikkel curls around my back and Laerke cuddles close to my shoulder, Baldur on the other side.
I’m grateful I saved our lieges, but I feel it’s almost for nothing now, since our enemies have taken our King.
And Bjorn has paid the price for all of it.
“Hey. You worked amazing magic back there.” Strom seizes my face in both hands, holding my gaze with his blazing emerald eyes.
“You returned not just our King, but Bjorn and Halfdir from the brink of death—Bjorn twice. You unleashed hell on our enemies, and held it all in your blazing heart, until the last. You held onto your innermost light, even in your deepest darkness, when you knew you had to call the Black Dragon and make it hear you. You worked miracles back there, Rikyava. And we’re all here right now because of it. ”
“But I also succumbed to my innermost darkness, and was nearly lost to it. And now we’ve lost Bjorn.” I feel terrible that I fell into that darkest place again and nearly didn’t come out this time.
Almost losing Bjorn was nearly my undoing. I place my hand on his chest now, as I feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, along with his determined heartbeats, though no one is home inside his body.
I suddenly understand everything Hedda went through when she lost her original First Drake, Aleric Blom. I feel now, to my deepest bones and back, how she fell into the same place of madness I went to when Bjorn’s bond was ripped from me.
But Hedda never came out again, despite the love of the rest of her drakes. It was their undoing; I know that now, as I sit with my own drakes and feel immense gratitude they saved me.
I don’t know what would have happened had I fallen fully into that place. I don’t want to think about it now, as I hold Strom’s hand and cuddle back into Mikkel’s arms, Baldur’s supportive hand on my thigh as Laerke strokes my shoulder.
Everyone is silent as my stepfathers and our other allies look on. Because we all feel we’re on the brink of madness now.
Darkness sweeping us in a fell tide—ready to devour us.
It’s Svanhild Magnussen who finally bustles in like the old Matriarch she is, getting Olander to help her levitate Bjorn up on their exhausted Bloodwinds, and get him some place he can rest and heal.
The gentle Bloodwinds of my stepfathers bolster me and my drakes up now as Trublut comes in to help me up with my arm around his shoulder. Khosh gets Strom up, and the fiercely gentle Vjen helps the Thorsen twins.
We’re all moving slowly as we head back to the dormitory hall where I had a room before, although a different room, since I blasted the last one out.
A sorcerous fire blazes in a brazier here, the room so similar to our original one that it seems like we never left. Ages have passed for me now, however, as my stepfathers and our allies get us settled, Bjorn in the large stone bed, resting.
Our allies leave, and it’s suddenly just my Bloodbond, as the fire crackles and blazes. True night has settled in; though our battle at Stockholm lasted just one day, it feels like forever, as we pick through a meal already sitting on the modest stone table.
No one is hungry, despite our famished state. No appetite fills us, with one of our Bloodbond so mercilessly torn from us. We sit on Bjorn’s bed now, monitoring his condition as we take turns pouring our life-force and love into him.
But we are no longer Bloodbonded to him, and he can’t pull from our strength the way he usually can. Because not only is our Bloodbond to Bjorn gone, his soul is trapped.
Inside the Usurper’s Void—lost.