Page 82 of The Dragonrider and the Void
She reached for her bond with White Eye, and felt it, but it was stretched impossibly thin, like a thread drawn across an entire ocean. He was still there, still connected to her, butcommunicating with him would be nearly impossible across the barrier between realms.
As the shock began to fade, Lark remembered the critical information she’d learned just before their escape. Venrick was alive but suffering from the King’s corruption spell. And the Flashover would begin in just three days.
“We need to find a way back,” Lark said, forcing herself to her feet despite the lingering pain. “Quickly. There’s too much at stake to be stranded here.”
“I know,” Nix agreed. “But first, we need to be careful. The fae realm has its own dangers, its own politics.” She gazed toward the crystal forest. “Things have changed since you were here last.”
In the distance, Lark could now make out structures rising above the treeline. Glistening spires that seemed to float untethered to the ground, connected by bridges of light and shadow.
“Is that where we’re going?” she asked, pointing.
Nix nodded. “The Summer Court. If anyone can help us return to Sataran, it will be them.” She hesitated, then added, “But remember, Lark, the fae don’t think like humans. Or even like dragons who have bonded with riders. Time moves differently here. Alliances shift like the wind. And power,” she gestured to landscape around them. “Power is everything.”
Lark straightened her shoulders, looking down at her tattered clothes, still marked with blood from her captivity in the Vermillion Keep. She was hardly an impressive sight.
Yet she had done what no one else had managed in centuries, bridged the gap between realms without the aid of a Flashover. She had performed magic that combined dragon and fae power in perfect harmony.
Perhaps that would be enough to earn the Summer Court’s respect and their help.
“Lead the way,” Lark said, taking a step toward the crystal forest.
As they walked, Lark couldn’t help but glance back once more at where the gateway had been. Somewhere on the other side, Venrick was fighting the King’s corruption. White Eye was battling the Keep’s forces. Their allies were risking everything based on information that now was known to be incomplete.
And the clock was ticking, with only three days until the Flashover began.
“We’ll find a way back,” she promised herself quietly. “Whatever it takes.”
The alien grass shifted colors beneath her feet, responding to her determination as she walked deeper into the fae realm.
20
HIDDEN PATHS
Morning dew slid from the canvas tent flap as Venrick pulled it open. He stepped out into the damp forest air and removed the clasp of the brismil scale from its harness. The perfectly form-fitting armor evaporated like fog before the sun. He’d left the armor on throughout the night, hoping that he would experience some of the effects that Lark experienced.
Let’s see if the draconic properties improved the healing process,he thought. He rolled up his sleeves, checking the faint traces of corruption that blackened the creases in his skin around his wrists, knuckles, and elbows.
It's receded even more,he noted. A faint tingling sensation gave him pause. The tingling chilled as he focused on it, turning to ice that burned though his veins.That’s different…
A splash of water doused a morning fire nearby, crackling loudly in his ear. He swiveled toward the noise. Venrick’s elven heritage gave him advanced hearing, but this was more than that. This heightened ability was like the hearing he experienced with brismil. He blinked, willing the sound of the hissing coals from his mind. The noise faded, his hearing returning tonormal. Venrick lifted his tunic to check the scale harness. He knew direct contact was what caused the draconic-charged plate armor to form around his body. The mechanized clasp that moved the scale in and out from his skin was firmly set in the out position, the scale a full finger width from his skin.
Lingering side effects of wearing it for more than ten hours?he speculated.
Camp was being dismantled all around him. Tents collapsed, supplies packed, weapons checked and secured. Per Ezra’s recommendation, they would disembark back toward Astral City. The mobile army would trail behind Ezra’s initial squad and break out into troops that would approach from multiple angles to divide the Keep’s attention.
“You look more like yourself today,” Yarla said, approaching with a steaming cup of something herbal. “The rimeshade’s effects are nearly gone.”
Venrick accepted the cup with a smile, noticing that she still wasn’t as far along in the healing process as he was. Dark streaks marked her hands and forearms like tattoos. He took a sip from the cup, then said, “I feel stronger. It’s because of the brismil.”
“It suits you,” she said, giving him a look that he knew would set Lark on edge. She must’ve sensed his awkwardness, adding, “What I mean to say is, you move naturally in it right from the start. That’s normally not the case with first-time brismil armor users.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve worn the armor or used the sword,” Venrick admitted.
“Tel had you train with it?” she asked.
“He did,” Venrick sighed.
“Your Paragon was trusting. I was never afforded that privilege until I had become a Knight for Gambria.”
