Page 110 of The Dragonrider and the Void
A soft sound behind them made the three of them whirl, weapons half-drawn. A slim figure emerged from the shadows, hands raised to show they were empty.
“About time you two showed up,” Sasja said, her familiar blue eyes flashing with grim humor. “I’ve been tracking you since you entered the east wing.”
“Sasja,” Hardin said in relief, hugging her tightly.
“What are you doing here, I thought you were with Cheyanne?” Venrick said.
“I’m doing what I do best, gathering intelligence.” She crouched beside them, peering over the balustrade at the ritual below. “The Archmagus isn’t fully corrupted yet, but he’s close. He believes he’s working toward his own ascension, poor fool.”
“Have you seen Lark?” Venrick couldn’t keep the urgency from his voice.
Sasja’s expression turned somber. “No one has, not since the magical discharge in the tower. There are rumors she escaped through some kind of portal, but nothing confirmed.” She fixed Venrick with a knowing look. “You need to focus on the task at hand. If she’s alive, our best chance of helping her is stopping this thing.”
Yarla leaned forward. “What about the binding ritual? Do they have the components we need?”
“That’s the interesting part,” Sasja replied. “Barrik arrived at the Archmagus’ summons this morning. By all accounts, Greggor’s army is still moving in on the city, but Barrik is here, seemingly invited in by the Magi Order. I’ve heard hehad dwarven smiths with him and they’ve set up a forge in the sanctuary.”
“Seems he has his own agenda in all this,” Yarla said.
“Barrik’s never done anything to better someone else. He’s up to something,” Venrick muttered. “How do we get to the sanctuary from here? The passageways I took are too heavily guarded now.”
“We’ll need to go through the lower crypts. I can show you a path the guards don’t know about.” Sasja rose smoothly. “But we need to move now. The ritual is nearly complete.”
They followed her through a warren of lesser-used corridors, descending ever deeper into the foundations of the Vermillion Keep. The stonework changed as they went, growing older, the straight lines and precise masonry of the Keep giving way to more organic curves and ancient runes.
“These passages look like they pre-date the Vermillion Keep,” Yarla said.
“They do,” Venrick explained as they ducked beneath a low archway. “They’re a part of the original sanctuary.”
The air grew colder, carrying that same icy musk that Venrick had come to associate with rimeshade influence. The corruption in his blood responded, pulsing beneath his skin in time with some unheard rhythm.
A distant roar shook dust from the ceiling, followed by the unmistakable crackle of dragonfire.
“White Eye,” Hardin said, his expression lighting with hope. “He’s breached the outer defenses.”
“Not for long,” Sasja cautioned. “The Keep’s dragonriders are mobilizing.”
As if summoned by her words, a presence pressed against Venrick’s mind, not the corrupted whispers he’d heard after he was struck by the King’s spell, but something cleaner and more focused. An image flashed before his mind’s eye: Astral Cityfrom above, the Keep surrounded by swirling auroras, dragons weaving through the impossible colors.
Ingamar,he realized. Through whatever strange connection the corruption had forged, he was seeing through the golden dragon’s eyes.
Another consciousness brushed against his. It was darker, angrier. White Eye, searching desperately for his rider. The black dragon’s rage was palpable, but beneath it lay a more complex emotion. Not just fear for Lark, but a deeper unease about what had happened to her.
“She’s not dead,” Venrick said aloud, the certainty surprising him. “White Eye would know if she was. She’s somewhere else.”
Sasja and Hardin exchanged glances and Yarla opened her mouth once, but closed it, deciding against questioning him. They continued their descent, the passage widening as it joined a more formal corridor lined with ancient statues of dragonriders. Unlike the chaotic fluctuations above, the air here felt unnaturally still, as if the very atmosphere held its breath in anticipation.
They rounded a corner and found themselves facing a squad of Paragons in full crimson armor, swords drawn.
“Intruders!” the lead Paragon shouted, raising his blade. “Defend the sanctuary!”
There was no time for subtlety. Venrick drew his brismil sword, the blue metal gleaming in the torchlight. The corruption in his blood surged in response, heightening his senses, lending unnatural speed to his movements.
He met the first Paragon’s strike with a counter that sent the man staggering back. Beside him, Hardin extended his hands, pulling moisture from the air to form a sphere of water that he hurled with devastating force. Sasja moved like smoke between them, her daggers finding gaps in armor. Yarla followed through with her sword, assisting Venrick in his attack.
The battle was brief but vicious. These were no ordinary guards but the Vermillion Keep’s elite, each a fighter with years of training. What they lacked was experience with the unnatural. Both Venrick and Yarla’s enhanced speed caught them off-guard. Hardin’s magic wetted the floor, sending their opponents slipping on the wet stones. Sasja’s skill with her blades left any remaining warriors unarmed and unconscious.
Venrick stood panting, the brismil sword pulsing in his hand with an eager light that matched the corruption’s flow in his veins.
