Page 73 of The Dragonrider and the Void
Venrick tested his weight on shaky legs. “Does anyone know what happened to Lark?”
Hardin’s expression darkened. “She was captured but not killed. White Eye conveyed as much to Quinthara. He hasn’t attacked, which is a good sign, I think. Lark’s bond with him is muted but they’re still able to sense one another. If that ends, White Eye will attack the Keep regardless of his own safety.”
They all turned suddenly as the door burst open. Cheyanne rushed in, her eyes wild with urgency.
“Knights are two buildings away,” she said, tossing a bundle of clothes at Venrick. “You need to move. Now.”
“What about the ritual pages?” Venrick asked, pulling a rough woolen shirt over his head.
“Secured.” Hardin patted his chest where the metal sheets were hidden. “But there’s a piece missing.”
“We need to go back for Lark,” Venrick insisted, fighting to clear his head. “I can’t leave her there with that, thing.”
Cheyanne’s expression hardened. “You’ll be no use to her dead. The Keep’s forces are specifically asking about all of us, but it’s you, Venrick, that the King wants.”
“They know that you’re in charge of the rebellion?” he asked.
“They’ve connected the dots faster than I anticipated. They’ll be barricading the city soon. They’ll figure out this inn is connected to me and Ezra.”
A loud crash from somewhere down the street punctuated her words. Shouts followed, along with a woman’s scream.
“They’re not being subtle,” Yarla murmured, gathering her small pack of supplies.
Cheyanne moved to the window beside Hardin, peeking through the shutters. “We split up. Different routes, different exits. You three join Quinthara in the ravine northeast of the city. Head for the Everburning Forest with the ritual information. Make sure it gets to Ezra. I’ll stay with a contingent to continue our work here.”
“They’ll arrest you,” Venrick protested, gripping the bedpost to steady himself.
“They’ll try,” Cheyanne replied with a grim smile. “But I’ve spent decades hiding in plain sight in this city. The propaganda is already spreading, and with what you’ve confirmed about the King and this Entity, the people deserve to know what’s coming.”
The door opened again, and a familiar, feminine face appeared. Sasja, her hood drawn up and blue eyes wide with concern.
“They’re nearly at the front door,” Sasja whispered urgently. “Six Vermillion Knights and a Paragon wearing brismil plate armor.”
Cheyanne immediately sprang into action. “Yarla, take the roof exit with Venrick. Hardin, the cellar passage. Sasja, show them the way, then find the rest of us at our fallback safehouse.”
“Got it,” Sasja said with a nod.
Venrick found his sword belt beside the bed and buckled it on, noticing that someone had replaced the depleted Yogo in its pommel with a fresh one. When he lifted the weapon, it felt unnaturally heavy in his weakened state.
Hardin gripped his shoulder. “We’ll get her back,” he promised, his eyes burning with determination. “But first, we need to survive.”
Boots thundered on the stairs below, and somewhere in the building, a muffled voice demanded entry in the name of the King.
“Go,” Cheyanne urged, drawing a short elven blade from beneath her robes. “I’ll delay them.”
Sasja was already opening a hidden panel behind a tapestry, revealing a narrow passage. Hardin slipped through without hesitation, pausing only to nod once to Venrick.
“The roof’s this way,” Yarla said, taking Venrick’s arm and guiding him toward a ladder in the corner that led to a hatch above.
His muscles protested as he climbed, but the urgency of their situation pushed him onward. Behind them, he heard Cheyanne barking orders to her people, preparing to face the King’s forces.
The roof hatch opened to the pre-dawn darkness of Astral City. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the distant sounds of alarm bells and shouting. The festival decorations still hung from buildings, fluttering like forgotten dreams in the morning breeze.
“This way,” Yarla directed, helping Venrick across the slanted roof to a narrow plank bridging the gap to the next building. “We need to put distance between us and the inn before daylight.”
Venrick’s gaze drifted to the towering silhouette of the Vermillion Keep, its red stone darkened to black against the lightening eastern sky. Lark was being held somewhere within those walls.
“She instructed White Eye to stay hidden,” Yarla said, following his gaze. “She must have had a reason.”
