Page 59 of The Dragonrider and the Void
“Lark!” Venrick shouted, drawing his sword and slashing at the tendril.
The blade passed through harmlessly, but the action broke the Entity’s concentration enough for Lark to recover. She lunged forward, Nightfang aimed not at the Void Drinker but at the reading stand. The brismil blade sliced through the air, catching the edge of the ancient text and sending the loose metal pages scattering across the floor.
King Agadorn shouted in alarm, diving for the pages. “Stop them!”
The library door burst open behind them, and four royal guards poured in, their weapons drawn. But they hesitated at the sight of the Void Drinker, their training insufficient preparation for facing such a creature.
Venrick reacted instantly, spinning to engage the guards. His blade flashed, not aiming to kill but to disable, striking with the precision Tel Roan had taught him years ago.
Lark faced the greater threat. The Void Drinker surged toward her, tendrils of darkness lashing out like whips. Sheducked and rolled, feeling the cold rush of its passage above her head. Each near miss left frost in its wake, riming the bookshelves with ice.
“The pages!”Nix urged.“We need them!”
Lark nodded, gathering her magic. Drawing on both White Eye’s power and Nix’s fae bond, she created a shield of blue-black energy around herself. The effort was tremendous, far harder than it had been in the Northern Sanctuary where the magic had been guided by existing runes.
Protected for the moment, she scrambled toward the scattered metal pages, snatching them up one by one as the Void Drinker crashed against her shield.
“You cannot escape,” the Entity hissed, its form expanding to surround her. “You are already mine.”
Across the room, Venrick had managed to disable two of the guards, but the remaining two had him cornered, their training overcoming their fear. King Agadorn was moving toward them, his hands weaving a pattern in the air that left trails of silver-black energy.
“Venrick!” Lark called, gathering the last of the pages. “We need to go! Now!”
He kicked one guard back, creating enough space to break free from the corner. As he ran toward Lark, the King completed his inhuman spell. A bolt of corrupted energy shot from his fingers, striking Venrick squarely in the back.
Venrick stumbled, his face contorting in pain. But he kept moving, reaching Lark’s side as her shield began to flicker and fail under the Void Drinker’s assault.
“The ritual,” she gasped, pressing the metal pages into his hands. “Take them. Get them to Hardin.”
“Not without you,” he growled, his breathing labored.
The Void Drinker’s attacks intensified, each impact draining more of Lark’s strength. She couldn’t maintain the shield much longer, and once it fell, they would both be at the Entity’s mercy.
“There’s no time to argue,” she said, making her decision. “Nix, with me!”
The fire fae understood instantly. She spiraled from Lark’s pendant, her flame expanding until it filled the space between them and their enemies. In that moment of distraction, Lark shoved Venrick toward a small side door half-hidden behind a bookshelf.
“Use the maps to get to the maintenance tunnels,” she said quickly. “Follow them up. Hardin will find you.”
“Lark—”
“I’ll hold them off.” She met his eyes, letting him see her determination. “The pages are what matter. Without them, we can’t stop what’s coming.”
For a heartbeat, he hesitated. Then, understanding the necessity of their mission, he nodded once. “I’ll come back for you.”
“I know you will.”
As Nix’s flames began to falter, Venrick slipped through the side door. Lark turned back to face the Void Drinker and the King, her shield collapsing completely as the last of her energy was exhausted.
“Brave, but foolish,” King Agadorn said, stepping forward as the guards regrouped behind him. “Your half-elf won’t escape the Keep. The ritual pages will be recovered.”
“Perhaps,” Lark replied, raising Nightfang once more though her arms felt like lead. “But you’ve lost the element of surprise. The world will know what’s coming.”
The Void Drinker’s form contracted, becoming more defined and solid, almost human, though still wreathed in darkness. “It hardly matters,” it said, its voice smoother now, almostmelodious. “The Flashover approaches. With or without the ritual, the barriers will thin. I will feed, and I will grow stronger.”
It extended a hand, an actual hand now, with fingers of shadow tipped with silver claws. “And you, dragonrider with the fae bond, will help me prepare.”
Lark felt a pressure in her mind, a cold invasion that sought to overwhelm her will. She fought against it, calling on her bonds with White Eye and Nix for strength.
