Page 54 of The Dragonrider and the Void
“No, I can only feel them,” he said.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Guide my channel toward whatever’s connected to this servant’s entrance. Tell me when I’m on one, and I’ll shift it, like moving the lines of a spiderweb to make a gap.”
“And they’ll stay like that?” Lark asked.
“If these are like Cheyanne’s wards, then yes, they should hold like that until they’re broken, or triggered, or moved back into place,” Hardin said.
Working in tandem, Lark guided their flow of magic. The fae and dragonrider channels of power intertwined seamlessly. When she had them on a line of energy passing out from the runes, she told Hardin. He pushed on them with his mental link, and they shifted, the lines of magic continuing to remain in a harmonious flow. They repeated this until the gap in the greenand silver wards matched the one in the blue wards Hardin had made around the entrance.
“There,” Lark said finally, sweat beading her brow despite the cool evening air. “It’s open.” She severed her bond with Nix and removed her hand.
Hardin groaned like he’d been put under an enormous amount of pressure.
“What’s wrong?”
He pulled his hand away from the wall with strenuous effort. A purple flash zipped from his fingers, spreading into a fine mist and evaporating.
Lark stepped back, blinking rapidly. Venrick braced her, his brows pointed together as they stared at Hardin.
“It’s not what you think,” he said. “Just a lingering effect from what Joc did to Quin.”
“Is that why you had trouble with how much magic you were drawing?” Lark asked.
“We don’t have time for a lengthy explanation,” Venrick said.
“Ven’s right, you need to move. I can already tell that the old wards are not going to remain open for as long as the newer wards.”
“How long?” Lark asked.
“I don’t know, they’re more resistant to change,” Hardin said.
“Lark, are you ready?” Venrick asked, stepping toward the servant’s entrance and adjusting the pack containing supplies they might need.
Lark met Hardin’s eyes and said, “Are you sure you’re okay and there’s nothing wrong with your bond?”
“I promise, Quin and I are fine. I’m still very new to the bond and having trouble channeling the power. That’s all. I’m okay, I promise. And I’ll be waiting here for you two when you return,” Hardin said. “The stones will let you communicate with Yarla, and she’ll relay your position to me. But remember?—”
“Once we’re in the innermost parts of the Keep, the stones might not work,” Lark finished. “We’ll be on our own.”
Hardin clasped Lark’s arm, then Venrick’s. “Find what you need and get out. Don’t try to be heroes.”
Lark smiled faintly. “Isn’t that what we’re already doing?”
“All the more reason not to overdo it,” Hardin replied, his expression serious. “Quinthara has only just found me. I’d rather not lose either of you so soon.”
The gap in the wards flickered slightly. “Go,” Hardin urged. “Now.”
Lark went first, stepping through the opening with a sensation as though she were walking through a waterfall without getting wet. Venrick followed close behind. The moment they were through, Lark hesitated, waiting to see if they’d really done it. No warning bells sounded. No Knights or Paragons rushed to the servant’s entrance. No magic gripped them to hold them in place. She checked herself over, no injuries.
“It worked,” she whispered.
Venrick gave her a brazen smile. He and Lark were safely inside the Vermillion Keep.
They stood in a narrow passageway that sloped downward, clearly part of the Keep’s drainage system. The walls were damp, and the air carried the musty scent of centuries-old stone.
“According to the maps, we need to follow this passage until it intersects with the old water cistern,” Venrick said, his voice barely above a whisper. “From there, we can access the lower levels through the maintenance tunnels.”
