Page 11 of The Dragonrider and the Void
“Nix, now!” Lark called, summoning the fae bond and willing forth power.
Black spears of energy shot out from Lark’s palm. They actually held a striking resemblance to the tendrils the entity in the cave had attacked her with. Nix wove around among the dark spears, setting them on fire as they sped toward the rimeshade. The rimeshade raised their smoking ice blades to defend themselves, but the combined assault was too much. Stone and magic and fire crashed into them all at once. Their bodies shattered like ice. The black smoke of their cloaks dissipated into nothing like fog cleared away by a strong wind.
Lark didn’t wait to see if they would rise from the frost again. “The vault!”
They raced through the archives, past toppled shelves and scattered scrolls. The vault’s massive door stood open ahead of them. Traces of its once-powerful wards nothing but ice on the floor. Inside, pedestals and cases lay broken, their contents strewn about like discarded toys.
White Eye groaned, low and dangerous. Lark could tell from his tone that he knew something was missing.
Lark moved to a central pedestal. Its protective case had been shattered. A rectangular impression in the dust showed where something had rested for centuries.
“It knew exactly what it wanted,” Nix said, floating over the receding frost as she studied the scene. “But what did it take?”
Lark picked up a placard laying among the shattered glass beneath the pedestal. She was careful not to touch the ice evaporating from the runes that protected the vault. The placard was written in the old verse, the same that the dragonriders used for their warding runes. Lark read it out loud: “Realmstone.”
The word hung in the air as Lark’s hand trembled with exhaustion. She set the placard down. The magic she’d wielded against the rimeshade continued to send her adrenaline spiking.That fae power was eerily similar to the corruption the rimeshade used.
White Eye pressed his consciousness against hers, sharing her unease about the black spears she’d summoned through Nix’s bond. His concern, however, was mixed with curiosity. The magic had been effective, but he was surprised to see her use it. Like it was the first time he’d seen her wielding Nix’s power in this way. Lark found White Eye’s revelation unsettling.
“I know that name, Realmstone,” Nix interjected, her fiery glow dimming as she hovered beside them. “The Realmstone was mentioned in the oldest texts of the fae courts, but...” She trailed off, studying the frost patterns that were fading from the floor.
Lark leaned against the broken pedestal, her body crying out for a rest. “But what?”
“It was supposed to be a myth. Something from before the barriers between realms had properly formed.” Nix’s expression darkened. “The texts said it could be used to reshape the boundaries between worlds.”
White Eye’s tail lashed against the stone floor. He sent visions of the first Flashover through the bond.
“Does it have something to do with why a Flashover happens every five hundred years?”
“We need to tell someone,” Nix said. “This might make the kings of Nordraven and Lamar listen to reason.”
“No,” Lark said sharply. “Think about it. They would drive it right into the corrupt members of the Magi Order. An artifact that powerful, in the hands of the magi? After everything we’ve learned about them, we can’t let that happen.”
“Then who do we tell?” Nix asked.
“What about the gods?” Lark said.
“The gods? They have never answered us before, why would they start now? All they do is send power through the veil. Andonce every five hundred years they muddle with the goings on here on Sataran.”
“Then we find Venrick,” Lark said, pushing herself upright despite her growing exhaustion. “He has had more experience with members of the Magi Order than anyone else we can trust. If anyone can help us now, it’s?—”
A sharp crack echoed through the vault. They turned to see the last traces of frost crystallizing on the far wall, forming one final message before fading away. These runes were clearly and intentionally in dragonrider’s script. This message was one the entity wanted them to understand.
“The barriers fall. The realms merge. What was sundered shall be whole,” she read aloud.
White Eye’s grumble carried a note of recognition.
“Those words. They’re part of a prophecy, from the first Flashover,” Nix said.
Lark stood straighter, turning to face her dragon. “How fast can you fly us back to the Everburning Forest…” That’s when she noticed it. On his shoulder, emerging from between his scales, was a trickle of blood. “White Eye, you’re bleeding!”
4
TRACES IN THE SNOW
Venrick knelt to inspect the indentations left by a dragon that appeared to have bedded down. The thin blanket of snow provided fair tracking conditions here on the northern edge of the Everburning Forest near the Northern Kingdom of Fjern. He noted that these tracks had the wide pads and long claws of a large dragon.
He visualized what White Eye looked like, remembering the day Venrick shot the dragon with a brismil-tipped arrow, the only brismil-tipped arrow Tel Roan had in his arsenal.He was twice the size of Ingamar,Venrick reminded himself, again looking at the prints here and gauging that they seemed to be in the right size range.
