Page 1 of The Dragonrider and the Void
PROLOGUE
(SOMETIME BEFORE TEL ROAN’S DEATH)
Shadows crept across the crystal walls of the sanctuary, transforming the pristine surfaces into something darker, like his fears about what others in the Magi Order might be doing. He extended the lantern, the light scattering through the formations above, where carved dragons circled the ceiling. Once, they had been guardians of this sacred place. Now, they were witness to the corruption that had led him here.
I hope I’m wrong about this,Zadar thought. He reached for the door that should be sealed shut. Inside, the inner chambers should have remained untouched for centuries, like they should’ve been after the last Flashover.
Zadar pressed his palm against the ancient stone. He instantly recoiled at the icy pinch. The sensation of corrupted magic tingled through his arm.
No, this shouldn’t be! Master Joc assured me this sanctuary was secure. He swore this place had been left untouched. The realization nearly bowled him over. He now understood what the corruption that traced the walls of this sacred place must mean. Validation was quickly replaced by the horrifying realization that his suspicions were correct. Some in the MagiOrder were acting outside the laws that bound their creed to serving justice and honor.
Prompted by his gentle touch, the door swung inward on silent hinges. Instantly, Zadar knew this was wrong. The door should have been sealed, locked, and rusted shut after centuries of quiet. Someone had restored it. They’d been here recently, and often. Instinct told him to turn around and run, but witnessing what lay inside the chamber proved to be too great a temptation.
Zadar slipped inside and used his training to search for traces of magic. The signs were everywhere, etched into the walls themselves in a script of runes that he’d never encountered before.
The grand chamber stretched before him. Its vaulted ceiling stretched so high that it was lost in the darkness. Black basalt pedestals, carved with dwarven craftsmanship, lined the rune-etched walls. Zadar recognized that each of these pedestals was meant to hold a dragon egg. A relic from the days when dragons still bonded with their riders before hatching. All of the pedestals were now empty, gathering dust, except…
Zadar carefully edged closer to the pedestal, noting the clean circle in its center. Something had been resting there recently.
A whisper of movement behind him sent the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He spun, lantern raised, eyes wide and searching. Yet, there was nothing but shadows between the columns.
What? I could’ve sworn I heard something,he thought.
Realizing that the longer he spent in the dragon sanctuary, the more likely he was to run into whichever magi were operating here, Zadar got to work. He slipped his hand into the breast pocket within his robes, brushing past the golden lark pendant worn around his neck, and pulled out a small journal. Using a charmed quill, he hurriedly sketched what he saw. Thedragon egg’s apparent placement, the imprint in the dust, the patterns of use from moving it on and off. All evidence that would prove his case to the Order’s council, if he could get it to them. If they would take him seriously after his having cried wolf one too many times.
Zadar may have been a student with a focus in fae bindings, but his real gift was spotting corruption within all forms of magic. His Preceptor, Magus Joc, explained his worries away each time Zadar brought up his concerns. But now, this was proof that this corruption didn’t originate with an outside source. This time, it had spread through the Order itself, root and branch.
He advanced deeper into the chamber, noting how the stone walls grew darker here, now veined with black stains that were flecked with silver specks, as though the walls were turning into a moonless sky. A magical energy breathed life into the gathering web, ebbing and flowing slowly, a power that seemed to breathe like a sleeping giant. Like the very walls were alive.
I’ve read about this,Zadar thought, searching the archives of his knowledge about the fae realm. A shadow seemed to darken his lantern when he remembered where he’d read about the midnight veins.In the forbidden texts. This was rumored to be the mark of the Night Court’s influence.His heart raced as he struggled to fit the piece into the puzzle.But they were sealed away ages ago. That’s what they all teach us. It can’t be, can it?
A sudden CRACK echoed through the chamber. Zadar froze, his breath catching in his throat. Another CRACK sounded, this time closer, as though the floor was giving way. He doused his lantern and quickly hid behind the closest column. He pressed himself against the carved stone, trying to become as thin as possible.
Voices drifted from the corridor across the chamber, their muffled conversation growing louder with approaching quietfootsteps and the soft rustling of robes against the floor. Zadar recognized the distinct swishing sound of having worn them for twenty years himself. Those were magi robes.
“The barriers continue to weaken,” a man said.
I know that voice,Zadar thought, instantly placing it.That’s Joc’s voice.The same Preceptor who had assured Zadar this sanctuary was sealed. Joc was among the elite in the Magi Order, currently being mentored by Archmagus Hierro De Vonte himself.
“Our frozen allies in the far North grow impatient,” Joc said.
“They will wait,” another voice responded, this one unfamiliar to Zadar. The accent, too, wasn’t one he’d ever heard before. “The timing must be right for this to work. The Vessel must be prepared. The Realmstone must be in position when the barriers fall, or all my efforts as well as your Order’s will be lost.”
Zadar slowed his breathing as the voices drew closer, willing himself to become one with the column digging into his back. He caught a glimpse of them as they passed through the shadows. Three figures in magi robes, and a fourth… The fourth seemed to shift and flow like black smoke, its form never quite settling.
Is that some kind of fae Lord, of the Night Court?he wondered. He saw ice forming on the ground near the creature’s feet.The Night Lord does not wield ice, that’s the Winter Court, unless… Joc said, ‘our frozen allies in the far North.
The horrifying realization came to him then.That’s not a fae Lord, that’s a rimeshade. What is a rimeshade doing here, in this sanctuary? Speaking with Joc and others of the order?
“That Northern girl in Skol remains a problem,” Joc said. “Her dragon’s connection to this place could reveal us before the next Flashover.”
“Then she must be dealt with,” the figure embroiled in robes that appeared to be made of smoke replied. “We cannot allowa dragonrider to interfere, especially not one with her royal bloodline. The timing is delicate.”
They passed by Zadar’s hiding place, moving toward the chamber’s far end. He waited until their footsteps faded before finally taking a full breath. His hands shook as he opened his journal again, recording what they’d said.
Who is this girl they speak of?Ella, the Nordraven Princess who renounced her line of succession to become a dragonrider at such a young age, crossed his mind.I need to bring this to the Council,he thought.But first, I need to get out of here.
As he moved away from the pillar, gliding silently toward the door, a soft chime rang through the chamber.
