Page 92 of The Dragonrider and the Void
“But there could be a connection,” Horgen said.
“What do you mean?”
“Did you find anything similar between the sanctuary in the Vermillion Keep and the Northern Sanctuary?”
“Yes,” Venrick said. “The runes there were the same.”
“Are you suggesting the runes are connected to the Vaerdium in the Northern Sanctuary?” Cheyanne said.
The dwarf nodded slowly. “Aye. If there’s a way for you to channel both flows of energy, you could use the runes as a channel back to the existing Vaerdium in the sister sanctuary. In theory, the original binding points would act as pathways to channel that source of Vaerdium, if they haven’t already been removed or otherwise corrupted.”
“Thenwecould use them,” Yarla said. “If we could channel both types of magic, we can reuse the original binding points through the runes in the Vermillion Keep.”
Hardin looked uncertain. “But without Lark, who can provide both dragon and fae magic?”
A heavy silence fell over the group as they confronted this fundamental obstacle. Lark’s unique dual bond had made her the perfect conduit for the ritual.
“We’ll have to find another way,” Venrick said firmly. “One of the three dragons we are allied with can provide the draconic magic. For the fae connection,” he looked to Yarla.
“I can attempt it,” she offered. “My elven heritage gives me some connection to fae magic, though it’s not nearly comparable to what Nix provides Lark.”
“And the vessel?” Horgen asked. “The living bridge between realms?”
Venrick met their gazes steadily. “That would be me.”
“Venrick,” Cheyanne began, concern evident in her voice, “you’ve already endured the King’s corruption spell. Taking on the burden of channeling both magics could kill you.”
“I survived the corruption because of my mixed blood,” Venrick countered. “The spell marked me, yes, but it also changed something in me. Ingamar senses it. There’s a connection forming there that shouldn’t be possible without a formal bonding.”
Hardin nodded slowly. “He’s right. Quinthara has mentioned it too. Ingamar sees something in Venrick that the rest of us can’t.”
“The perfect vessel,” Horgen murmured. “Marked by both corruption and resistance to it.”
Outside the temple, the sounds of fighting had diminished as the night wore on. The rebellion had secured much of the Eastern Quarter, though Vermillion Keep remained a crimson fortress against the night sky, impregnable and threatening.
“Then we have our plan,” Cheyanne said, straightening to her full height. “At dawn, we launch our assault on Vermillion Keep. I’ll send word to Ezra to prepare to gain entry to the city at the North Gate. The rest of our main force will engage the King’s defenders, our smaller team will penetrate to the sanctuary beneath. There, we’ll attempt the binding ritual using the original Vaerdium channels.”
“And if Lark is still within the Keep?” Venrick asked, the question that had burned in him since their return.
Cheyanne’s expression softened slightly. “Then we find her. But Venrick,” she added, her voice gentle but firm, “you must be prepared for the possibility that she isn’t there. Or that she can’t be reached in time.”
The weight of those words settled over him, heavy as a mountain. But he nodded, accepting the brutal calculus of their situation.
“I understand. The binding ritual comes first. Without it, there will be no future for any of us.”
They returned to the maps, planning their approach to the Keep with methodical precision. Routes of attack, diversionary tactics, contingencies for resistance. All were considered and decided upon as the night deepened toward dawn.
Yet through it all, Venrick’s thoughts kept returning to Lark. Somewhere, whether within the Vermillion Keep or beyond, she was fighting her own battle. He could feel it in some undefinable way, a tether between them that transcended physical distance.
Hold on, Lark,he thought, willing the sentiment across whatever divide separated them.Whatever happens tomorrow, know that I tried to come back for you.
As first light the assault on the Vermillion Keep was going to begin.
22
SUMMER COURT
“Do you remember this place?” Nix asked.
