Page 133 of The Dragon Warlord
I know he is, but I have to say it. Thinking about Leif shackled up in that disgusting place for centuries still haunts me.
Still there, Riv?
I’m still here.
Tristan checks on me intermittently through our bond and it’s comforting like he’s here with me and the ordeal doesn’t feel so desolate. I refuse to stop singing and I’m surprised that they haven’t used force to shut me up.
“When we get there, I’m gonna cut out its tongue,” one says.
* * *
“There” ends up being a tall crag of rock in the shape of a semi-circle that’s split along the northeast side. As we approach, I see that there is a long slab of rock inside the semi-circle that stands at about hip level. Embedded into the walls is … sarsen stone?
Well, that’s happy news, if Tristan gets here before they go through with their little plan. “I’ll stop singing if you tell me what your plan is.”
I refuse to believe these creatures are all that intelligent just because they seem to know some pretty complicated magic.
“You can know the plan. You won’t be around much longer anyway.”
“Unlucky for me. What’s the plan?”
The one with the bone waves it around. “Your mate killed mine. I want him back.”
“Is that his bone?” That’s disgusting.
“Yes. You, plus this bone, and a spell done in there will bring him back.”
“But I’ll be dead?” I check.
“You’ll be dead.”
Without warning, the pain of the bond takes me to my knees.
“Get up.”
“C-Can’t.”
I was wondering when this was going to happen. It took Tristan and me ages to get our finicky bond to simmer down. It doesn’t let us do anything. Certainly not leave each other for hours and at such a distance. If we want to do that, we have to work to that end, but we never have. There hasn’t been a reason to. I hope there never is again.
Sizzling hot pain throbs along with my heartbeat, through my limbs. I clutch my chest.
“What’s happening to it?” the small one says.
“Don’t know. Pick it up.”
An exceptionally bright shot of pain shoots through my right leg and it kicks out of its own accord.
T-Tristan. The bond. Y-You, okay?
Feeling it, Omega, but I’m okay. You?
Not okay.
Fuck. Almost there.
I wish I could feel him getting closer, but all I can feel is sharp, stabbing pain.
The one with the grubbiest fingers is about to pick me up when heavy hoof falls sound across the clearing.
