Page 4 of The Dragonrider and the Void
“Careful,” she cautioned him. Lark’s bond with White Eye was whole again, meaning her wrist and side were healing much faster than they would’ve otherwise, but her stab wound was still tender and weeping at the edges. And her wrist was still fractured.
A moment later, White Eye hummed an apology in which she sensed that whatever reason her dragon had for bringing them here was more pressing than finding Lark’s companions.
Dragons don’t act without a reason, especially when it involves the preservation of their riders,she reminded herself. Though Barrik had opened her mind’s eye to the major events of her past, many details remained shadowed by the spell that had caused her lengthy bout of amnesia.
They descended toward a collection of oddly placed rocks. As they flew closer, she could see that the boulders seemed to be placed in a purposeful arrangement, unlike natural scree from decades of shifting mountain debris.
“Is that the remains of an old nest?” she wondered.
A shimmer appeared in the chilly air that came from nothing. A reflection of light fractured before them, rippling out likerings in still water. A warmth passed over her as they flew through whatever it was. The magic’s trace pulled at her body like an invisible web. Immediately to either side, a dragon-sized archway appeared past the tips of White Eye’s outstretched wings.
“Wards?” Lark asked, her pulse skipping a beat. “But how?” She realized they could’ve been seriously maimed or injured had they not been granted access to enter.
A stone sanctuary appeared before them, the remains of a forgotten village sprawling around it. Carvings of runes dotted the stones, each ancient marking pristine despite the weathering of centuries of wind, rain and snow. Lark had no memory of a settlement or sanctuary located in these mountains. Building here was forbidden. This was a nesting ground of the original twelve dragons. These grounds were to be respected and left undisturbed, regardless of which kingdom riders hailed from.
A sense of discomfort coiled within her. The sensation increased, spreading out across her chest from the transmissions through her necklace via her bond with Nix. As they flew low beyond the arch, more buildings came into view. They painted themselves into existence as the wards washed away the illusion that had kept them hidden. Upon closer inspection, Lark recognized the style of stone masonry featured in the towering perches, broad buildings, and expansive courtyards. Runes were carved and embossed into every oaken door and granite walkway. Each rune remained swollen with magical energy. A magic that kept this town thawed, as though it was eternally transitioning from Spring to Summer. No snow piled up on the ancient roofs of the buildings below, allowing Lark a clear look at the architecture. She knew its influence immediately.
This is a dragonrider sanctuary!
Only, time had weathered this place more than the others Lark had learned about in her upbringing as a young Northern princess, then as a fully dedicated dragonrider. Many of the buildings had been abandoned for what must’ve been decades or more. Everywhere she looked, roofs were collapsing and walls were caving in. Vegetation crept over most low-lying surfaces. No outside threat had tested the wards as they’d been going without resupply for as long as history had concealed it. Despite the magic used to power the wards that kept this place hidden, it was in ruin. The magic had not worked on the inside of the sanctuary. There were no signs of caretakers, or life in the town.
With consideration for Lark’s healing injuries, White Eye landed with uncharacteristic gentleness in an expansive courtyard. A cliff jutted up the mountainside to form the northern boundary of the sanctuary town. From this cliff wall, the town spread out in an oval, leading to the massive stone archway they’d flow through on the southern end. As Lark slid from the saddle, supporting her arm, she noticed her dragon’s attention wasn’t on the sanctuary. His gaze, those milk white eyes rimmed in gold, were fixated on a split that had formed in the cliff wall, yawning into a massive dark chasm.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose, keying into whatever White Eye was sensing. Lark realized they weren’t completely alone here. She checked to either side, peering into the abandoned buildings. She searched the windows that had been broken open and grown over and through with vines. She noted rotting wooden doors listing off their hinges, moss-capped walls, and streets lined with grass-covered paving stones.
“I can’t believe this place is here. It’s not on any maps I’ve ever seen. Why haven’t any of our instructors ever told us about this sanctuary?” she said.
Her attention shifted back to White Eye, but his gaze was solely focused on the opening in the cliff. The dark fissure that opened into the mountainside.
“How did you know this was here?” she asked him.
A ripple tremored through his neck as he pointed his snout to the opening.
“Whatever you need to show me had better be worth all this delay,” Lark said.
Something that Barrik had taught her during her training surfaced then.“When a dragon’s urgency outweighs a rider’s demands, look deeper. Some dragon’s minds share a connection with their ancestor’s memories. They can glimpse into the past and remember what our histories have forgotten.”
“What could be important enough for you to ignore my longing to return to Venrick and the others?” Lark asked stepping closer to the fissure.
That’s when she noticed it. A crystalized layer of frost covered the sides of the vertical crevasse. Lark blinked, cursing her fatigued mind for overlooking it as normal frost. Frost in the North wasn’t an unusual thing to see. But here, in a sanctuary where spells stored in runes kept everything melted to create eternal springtime, something frozen was an oddity. Slowly, White Eye overtook her, and she followed.
Lark’s boots crunched on frost-covered stone as White Eye neared the opening. He used his tail to sweep away rocky debris, clearing her path. Though frustration toward him for bringing her here against her will was her prime emotion at present, her curiosity about the frost’s origins had been piqued.
“I don’t think this crack in the earth is a natural phenomenon,” she said, stepping through the threshold with a scrupulous eye. “The edges of it are too angular and symmetrical, like it was cut out of the rock. It’s not a weathered opening.”
Tucked inside the frost-rimmed opening, at the edges where daylight bled into the shadows, Lark saw markings had been carved into the cliff walls.
What is that? Lark reached out with her uninjured arm, tracing the carving. “It’s a dragon wing,” she realized.
Within the wing a line of script had been carved in the old dragonrider’s language, the runes from the first dragonriders. Further along the wall, she saw more carvings that faded into the darkness within.
“It’s been so long since I practiced reading the old rider’s script,” she said, remembering when her grandfather, the King of Skol, had forced her to learn the language.
The pendant on her necklace flared with an uncomfortable heat. Lark instinctively searched the air near her, hoping to see the pinwheel of sparks that preceded Nix’s arrival. As the seconds grew longer, Nix remained hidden from sight.
Why won’t you show yourself?Lark thought, trying to project her need for her friend’s support back into the pendant. That’s when a sense of calm passed through her, stemming from her dragon bond.
Lark turned her attention back to the runes carved by riders from centuries past. Mixed in among them, she began to see more and more characters that she didn’t recognize.
