Page 75 of The Dragonrider and the Void
“The forest is still half a day’s flight,” Hardin said over the rush of wind. “Can you hold on that long?”
Venrick straightened, drawing strength from his resolve if not his body. “I have to.”
His hand moved to the inner pocket where he’d stored the metal pages Edgar had delivered.
Quinthara turned gently to avoid a cloud bank that might reveal their position to searching Paragons. As she leveled out,Venrick caught a glimpse of the Everburning Forest, a firestorm rising on the horizon.
The smoke rose like a pillar of ash and flame against the sky, its column spiraling upward before mushrooming into an anvil-shaped cloud. Even from this distance, Venrick could feel its power, a magnetic pull that tugged at something primal within him.
“That’s a large one,” Hardin observed, his voice carrying over the wind. “Looks like it’s near the northern edge of the forest.”
“That looks like it’s hitting the rebel’s hidden camp,” Venrick said.
Yarla shook her head. “It’s close but not going to touch it. What we should be worried about, though, are the Paragons and Knights who will be drawn to it. The Keeps always dispatch forces, even if they need to leave some behind to search the city for us.”
Quinthara banked suddenly, veering away from their direct course toward the forest. Hardin leaned forward, his hands pressing reassuringly against the dragon’s neck.
“She senses something,” he explained, his expression tense. “Other dragons approaching from the southwest.”
Venrick twisted in the saddle, scanning the horizon. At first, he saw nothing but clear blue sky. Then the glint of sunlight on brismil caught his eye. Four dragons in tight formation, their riders’ armor gleaming, red capes flapping.
“Vermillion Keep Paragons,” Yarla hissed. “They must have spotted us.”
“No,” Hardin replied, his focus on his bond with Quinthara. “They’re heading for the firestorm, just as you predicted. But if they alter course, it will be bad for us.”
Quinthara dipped lower, her wings nearly brushing the tops of the tallest trees as she sought cover in the rolling terrain. Thepursuing Paragons remained fixed on their course, apparently unaware of the fugitives beneath them.
“They’re racing to claim whatever power emerges from the storm. Their greed is blinding them.” Venrick scoffed with a shake of his head. “It’s always about the politics of magical control. Even now, with the Void Drinker, whoever controls the most sources of magic controls Sataran.”
A bitter laugh escaped from Yarla. “And yet none of them understand what’s truly at stake. The rifts between realms growing weaker, and the Void Drinker is preparing to tear them down completely.”
The miles passed beneath Quinthara’s wings, the firestorm gradually shrinking behind them as they flew deeper into Lamar’s countryside. Venrick felt the corruption continuing to retreat from his system, strength returning to his limbs with each passing hour. By midday, the black lines had faded to faint gray shadows beneath his skin, nearly invisible except in direct sunlight.
The landscape changed as they continued, the rural hills and forested farmland northeast of Astral City gave way to thicker woods, then dense old growth of the central region of the Everburning Forest. Here, the trees burned less frequently and stood taller than fortress walls, their canopy an unbroken sea of green stretching to the horizon.
Quinthara began to circle, searching for a break in the dense foliage.
“Is this it?” Venrick asked, still not sure he could find the hidden camp on his own.
“Quin knows the way,” Hardin replied with confidence. “She can sense Ingamar, too.”
At the mention of Tel Roan’s dragon, a sharp memory struck Venrick. Their last parting had been tense, and not because historically they hadn’t gotten along very well. The tension wasbecause the dragon was reluctant to leave his former rider’s Squire behind as Venrick pursued Lark.
Quinthara found her opening in a narrow clearing cutting through the forest canopy, just wide enough for her wingspan. She descended carefully, maneuvering between the towering trees with surprising agility for her size. Dappled light filtered through the leaves, casting shifting patterns across her midnight scales.
They landed in a small clearing beside a stream, the only sound water rushing over stones and the call of forest birds. Hardin dismounted first, helping Yarla and then Venrick down from Quinthara’s back.
“This doesn’t seem like it,” Venrick said.
“The wards have changed. I can sense it. We should walk from here,” Hardin said, shouldering his pack.
The forest floor was soft beneath Venrick’s boots, a carpet of moss and fallen leaves that muffled their footsteps. The scent of green growing things mingled with the distinctive aroma of the Everburning Forest’s faint undertones of char and ash from the firestorms that periodically swept through the region.
As they walked, Venrick felt a growing tension in the air, a subtle resistance that prickled against his skin. Cheyanne’s wards, he realized. Invisible but potent, designed to turn aside casual travelers and confuse those actively seeking the rebel camp.
Without warning, Hardin stopped and placed his hand against what appeared to be empty air. He closed his eyes in concentration. Venrick recognized the same expression Hardin had worn when manipulating the wards of the Vermillion Keep.
“Wait,” Hardin said, his attention focused on whatever he sensed through his palm. “Something has changed. The wards have been reinforced.”
