Page 67 of The Dragonrider and the Void
“Can you help him?” Hardin asked, placing the metal pages on the table.
Yarla’s expression was grave. “We can try. The corruption hasn’t reached his heart yet, but it’s close.”
“Lark,” Venrick rasped, grabbing Hardin’s wrist with what strength remained in his corrupted hand. “She’s been captured. The King... the Void Drinker... they have her.”
Hardin’s face hardened. “We’ll get her back. I promise.”
As Yarla and Cheyanne began to work, whispering elven healing chants over his corrupted body, Venrick’s thoughts turned to Lark. She was still trapped in the Vermillion Keep at the mercy of the King and the Void Drinker. The thought of her suffering while he lay here was almost more painful than the corruption spreading through his veins.
As darkness overcame him, Venrick made a silent vow.I will come for you,he silently promised Lark.I will go back for you, no matter what it takes.
17
THE GILDED CAGE
As Lark regained consciousness, pain was her first sensation. A dull, throbbing ache radiated from her temples, spiraling down her spine. The second thing she noticed was how cold she was. A fierce chill seeped through the thin fabric of her shirt to her bones. She kept her eyes closed, forcing herself to take inventory before revealing she was awake.
My arms are bound behind my back. Shackles around my ankles. I’m sitting, leaning against a stone wall.
Her fingers traced what felt like metal cuffs, surprisingly smooth. Not ordinary restraints, then. The air carried the musty scent of old stone mingled with a faint trace of energy that tickled her senses. It reminded her of the Northern Sanctuary, that same ancient power lingering in the atmosphere.
Lark opened her eyes.
Daylight shone through slits carved out of the towering ceiling, illuminating a cell that defied her expectations. No dank dungeon or cramped cage, but a spacious room with a proper bed, a wooden table with two matching chairs, and a small washbasin in the corner. The walls were polished stone, notrough-hewn like the foundation of the Keep. They bore intricate carvings that spiraled across the surface in familiar patterns.
These dragonrider runes are done in the Lamarian script. They’re new,she determined, seeing more interwoven within them. These were similar to the runes from the sanctuary and under the Vermillion Keep, only…this fae script is different than the others. A new binding?
Her gaze landed on the solid metal door that lacked a visible handle, though this was not the barrier that truly kept her prisoner. The tingling on her skin from the energy invested in the runes, combined with the metallic taste of the air indicated that what would really hold a dragonrider as powerful as she was prisoner, was what had been so recently carved into the stone. She didn’t need to test her bonds with White Eye and Nix to know they would be muted here.
“A gilded cage is still a cage,” she murmured, her voice raspy from screaming earlier.
The memory flashed unbidden: The Void Drinker’s chilling darkness enveloped her as the King watched, those starlit voids for eyes penetrating her mind, searching for information about Venrick, about the ritual pages. She had fought it, redirecting her thoughts to memories of training with Barrik, forcing the Entity to wade through useless recollections.
It had not been pleased.
Lark twisted her wrists to test the restraints. They were tight but not cutting, precisely the right tension to prevent escape without causing lasting damage. The shackles on her ankles allowed enough movement to walk but not to run or kick effectively.
Practiced work. Of course, the Paragons here would know how to hold a dragonrider captive.
She reached tentatively for her bond with White Eye. The connection was there, but distant, like trying to hear a whisperacross a crowded room. She sensed his presence, his growing rage at her captivity, but couldn’t communicate clearly. The same was true for Nix. The pendant against her chest retained only a faint warmth, the fire fae’s energy was significantly subdued by the runes surrounding them.
Lark closed her eyes again, leaning her head back against the wall. She forced herself to breathe deeply, pushing aside the pain that lingered from her interrogation. The most important thing now was to remain clearheaded. To observe. And to not give up.
Venrick escaped with the description of how to perform the ritual.
That thought sustained her. Whatever happened to her now, the pages were beyond the King’s reach. Cheyanne would know what to do with them. The binding ritual would be preserved. There was still hope of stopping the Void Drinker before the Flashover began.
A metallic scrape drew her attention to the door. Multiple locks disengaged. The sound echoed in the quiet chamber. Lark kept her expression neutral, masking all of the calculations running through her mind. Three locks meant at least three different keys, possibly held by different people. Such precautions suggested they feared her capabilities even when her magic was suppressed.
Good. They should.
The door swung open to reveal two figures in the crimson uniforms of the King’s elite Paragons. One wore brismil plate armor, a dragonrider. The other an elf mage who wore an impassive expression, her eyes forward, hand resting on sword hilt. They stepped aside, allowing a third figure to enter.
She thought again that King Agadorn looked nothing like the statues and paintings that adorned Astral City. Those portrayed a strong, confident ruler with keen eyes and a diplomatic smile. The man before her seemed diminished, his shoulders slightlyhunched despite his regal posture, his once handsome features now stretched too tight across his bearded face. But it was his eyes that had changed the most. They were no longer the clear blue of Lamar’s royal line, but clouded, flickering occasionally with that same silver starlight Lark had seen in the rimeshade and their creator, the Void Drinker.
“The famous Marcel Heartfell,” he said, his voice weighted with the experience of royal authority. “I hope you find your accommodations suitable.”
Lark met his gaze steadily. “I’ve had worse. Though I typically prefer accommodations I can leave at will.”
