Page 78 of The Dragonrider and the Void
Ezra nodded slowly, recognizing the resolve in Venrick’s eyes. “Very well. We’ve been preparing for this since Cheyanne’s first message arrived. I’ll give the order for the Morsythians and the rest of the troops to move out at dawn.”
“Good,” Venrick said. “The more chaos in the city, the easier it will be to breach the Keep’s defenses.”
Hardin moved to the maps of the Vermillion Keep, studying the detailed rendering of its layout. “We’ll need to coordinate with Cheyanne’s forces inside the city. And we’ll need to be prepared for the King to use extraordinary measures to stop us.”
Venrick’s hand rested on the brismil armor, feeling its power resonating with something awakening within himself. The corruption from the King’s spell had nearly run its course, but it had changed him in ways he was only beginning to understand. Where it had touched, something new had emerged. Almost like a heightened sensitivity to magic. He could feel it between him and Ingamar.
“We don’t know exactly when the Flashover will begin, but like Ezra said, it’s coming within days, not weeks,” he said, more to himself than to the others.
It’s not much time to rescue Lark, find the missing pieces of the ritual, and prepare for a battle with a being that could alter the fate of our world forever,he thought.
Venrick picked up Tel’s brismil blade, testing its weight in his hand. It felt right, as if it had been waiting for him.
I’m coming, Lark,he promised silently.And this time, I won’t leave without you.
19
THE COLLAPSE
As they led her from the chamber, Lark committed the labyrinth of corridors to memory. The views through the windows they passed confirmed her earlier suspicions.
I’m being held in an upper level of the Keep,she thought.
They moved down the tower and Lark was hauled past an open door where she caught a view of the dragon’s perch, a massive landing platform that protruded horizontally from the top level of the central tower.
As they descended past the perch, guards and servants averted their eyes. She caught their whispers as she was shoved along the corridor.
“Nordraven’s most infamous dragonrider.”
“The King’s prisoner, right here in the Keep.”
Finally, they reached a circular chamber two levels below the dragonriders’ takeoff and landing platform. The exterior wall of the room was floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Astral City. The city glowed with lantern light from the festivalgoers crowding the streets. Beyond the city walls, the moonlitcountryside stretched out to the Astral Mountains where White Eye was hiding.
King Agadorn stood with his back to the door, hands clasped behind him as he gazed out at his kingdom. The Archmagus Hierro De Vonte stood beside him, a tall, slim figure with dark black hair greased tight to his skull, and darkened eyes that seemed to sink deep into his boney face. His ornate black robes glimmered with silver symbols, embroidery that was distinctive to the Magi Order. Their conversation halted as Lark was brought in.
“Leave us,” the King commanded the guards without turning.
“But Your Majesty—” the short mage began in protest.
Without a word, the King turned and his glare sent the mage backpedaling, as the silver starlight in his eyes flared. “The Archmagus and I are more than capable of containing one bound dragonrider,” the King said.
The Paragons obeyed, ushering the mage out and closing the heavy door.
For a moment, silence stretched between Lark and the two at the window. Then the Archmagus spoke. His smooth voice carried a quality that created an unease whispering across the back of her neck.
“General Ashbrook reports that White Eye has been hunting the Vermillion Keep’s dragons,” he said without preamble. “Three riders have not returned from patrols over the southern ridges.”
“White Eye is protective,” Lark replied calmly. “And your riders would’ve survived had they not gone hunting for him beyond your wards.”
“They were there to secure the area against rebel infiltration,” the Archmagus countered. “Your friends have been quite busy spreading unsanctioned propaganda throughout the city. We’ve been trying to destroy them as they arise, butthe documents questioning the King’s authority and claiming collusion with the North, have persisted.”
Lark kept her expression neutral, though inwardly she felt a surge of pride. Cheyanne was still working to expose the truth, even with the Void Drinker’s plans in motion.
“Tomorrow night, the festival will end early,” the King said, turning back to the window. “After which, martial law will be declared until the troops I’ve recalled from the eastern battlefront arrive to defend this Keep. Any remaining anti-Agadorn propaganda will be collected and burned. The dissidents will be identified and re-educated.”
“And what happens after that?” Lark asked. “What if the Flashover begins early?”
The King’s shoulders stiffened. “So, you do understand what’s coming.”
