Without a weapon, Syla could only flatten her hands to Wreylith’s back to anchor herself on.
The lightning branch finally extinguished, the harbor growing darker without its brilliance and with the ominous clouds lower than ever, the fog thicker. It couldn’t quite dim the silver glow of the weapons platform, but Syla’s eye was drawn away from it. Near the bluff, a strange funnel of those clouds was arrowing toward an opening in the rock face.
“I think it’s refueled!” Vorik shouted to Syla as Ozlemar and Agrevlari engaged again, each clawing for the other’s belly as they also bit for necks.
Syla considered the weapons platform as Wreylith, with the yellow dragon arrowing for her from behind, was forced to turn around and deal with that threat. TheFanged Whalehadn’t been destroyed, and neither had the marble gift from the gods. Even from high above, Syla could sense power radiating from it. Maybe Vorik was right. Maybe her idea had worked, and its reserveshadbeen replenished.
I need to get back down there to use it,she told Wreylith.
But Wreylith was fully engaged with the yellow dragon now, fending off an attempt to bite her in the tail. She whipped it at her foe’s flank, her back tilting as she turned in mid-air to breathe fire.
Lesva calmly tilted to the side to avoid the flames, then straightened when the dragons were flying past each other close enough that she could swing her sword at Syla. It came so swiftly that the white blade blurred, but Syla reacted quickly enough to flatten herself to Wreylith’s back. Her dragon banked, flying away, then roared, unwilling to take Syla back to the ship while an enemy was after her. If only Syla had a way to help Wreylith.
At least Vorik was still alive, his dragon clashing again and again with his brother’s. Unfortunately, more dragons had found the hole and were pouring through it, attacking the castle and the city as well as the ships in the harbor. Syla spotted an orange dragon in the mix, one that was biting and snapping at those around it. Young Igliana. She was trying to help the Kingdom, but she could only do so much.
The weapon is again ready to be used,the ethereal voice of the platform said into Syla’s mind.
Good to know. Thanks.“I just need to get down there,” Syla muttered as the dragons clashed again.
When Wreylith’s back tilted, and only Syla’s magic kept her astride, she thought about letting go and swimming back to the ship, but they were high above the harbor now, and much wreckage bobbed on the surface of the water. Falling would be dangerous.
Any chance I can fire you remotely?Syla thought toward the weapons platform.
She didn’t expect an answer, certainly not the somewhat amused tone of the words that came.One who is linked to one of the mad god’s creations as well as marked by the moon has powers unknown even by us.
Is that a yes?
The voice didn’t respond.
Even as she had to duck low to avoid another swipe from Lesva, Syla imagined herself pressing her hands to the marks on the posts. Two dragons were flying over the docks, dodging cannonballs and breathing fire at ships. Furious that they’d gotten through, that the capital was under siege again, Syla willed the magical projectiles to fire.
To her surprise, all four posts shot out silvery spheres of pure energy. Two sped toward each dragon and slammed into their heads and torsos. The dragons didn’t even have time to screechbefore they crashed into the docks, wood snapping, and wings dislocating as they hit. One flapped a leg feebly, but the other had died before striking down.
Relieved cheers went up on the ships.
Lesva cursed, and Syla was close enough to hear the words that followed. “There’s nobody on the platform. How did they—” Her furious eyes locked onto Syla. “You.”
“Me,” Syla agreed quietly as Wreylith flew toward the yellow dragon and roared.
Lesva curled her lip and rose up on her dragon’s back so that she could shift her sword to her left hand and pull out a throwing knife with her right. As she drew her arm back to hurl it, Syla commanded the gift of the gods to fire again. Lesva threw the knife as a silver sphere sped up from below. Again, Syla was fast enough to duck. A good thing or the knife would have struck her between the eyes.
The yellow dragon saw the magical attack coming and tried to bank, but the projectile arced to follow. It slammed into Lesva and blasted her from the dragon’s back. By the time she landed in the water, she was dead, charred beyond recognition.
Though the sheer power of the weapons platform awed and terrified Syla, she didn’t hesitate to fire it again, aiming at the other dragons that had invaded the harbor. As the projectiles sped after them, she looked around for Vorik and Agrevlari. They were flying near the cliff, both dragon and man peering toward it. Ozlemar had disappeared—no, there he was flapping his wings to speed through the hole in the barrier to escape the area. He dripped blood as he flew, and one of his wings had a lopsided hitch to it.
But where was Jhiton? He wasn’t on the dragon’s back.
Syla followed Vorik’s gaze toward the cliff and spotted Jhiton climbing toward the same gap that clouds were twisting and writhing into. The entrance that led back to the ancientlaboratory under the castle. Lightning flashed toward Agrevlari and Vorik, driving them back from the cliff.
Syla glared at Jhiton’s back, determined to target him with the next projectile, but he shimmied through the entrance and out of sight. She almost fired anyway, thinking the great silver spheres might blow open the side of the cliff—and him with it. But that cliff was under the castle. She dared not try to destroy the perch on which it rested.
As more lightning flashed in the clouds, fresh fear swept into Syla. She’d sent Captain Vonla and however many troops she’d taken with her down into the tunnels near that laboratory.
Agrevlari flew to Wreylith’s side, and she roared at him. He roared back. Their vocalizations sounded more like the war cries of comrades than anything antagonistic.
Vorik called over to Syla. “He’s going to that laboratory. Or maybe to destroy the shielder.”
Probably both.
