Wreylith must be pleased by your sublime physique.
We are on the same tower.Agrevlari sounded smug, but then added,She is not interested in discussing names for her future hatchlings at this time.
Wearein the middle of a chaotic storm-god invasion. Are the rest of the dragons staying outside the barrier now?
Oh, yes. They were most alarmed to discover that your queen can launch the deadly projectiles without being near the platform.
I’m not sure Syla knew she could do that either.
They turned at an intersection, running down the tunnel that led to the hidden entrance to the shielder chamber and dead-ended at an alcove full of tombs. Two soldiers in Kingdom uniforms stood in front of the stone wall that held the hiddendoor. It wasn’t open, and Syla exhaled in audible relief. But rubble was strewn about in the alcove, and Vorik suspected that wall had been breached again.
“Captain Vonla went that way, Your Majesty.” One of the soldiers pointed toward the alcove while frowning at Vorik.
“Thank you.” Syla waved as she ran past, only slowing when she and Vorik reached the alcove.
He blinked in surprise at a machine that had been assembled near the tombs, a great horizontal drill bit comprising half of it. It reminded him of the mining equipment that Tibby had commandeered on Bogberry Island.
“Jhiton didn’t bring that,” Vorik said while looking at a hole in the wall.
He’d been here before when there had been a hole in that spot, but broken bricks all over the place promised it had been walled in after the stormers had visited. Now, however, it stood open again, a new hole formed with dense fog rolling through. Vorik sensed power ahead, great power. The last time he’d been here, the laboratory had been covered in dust, any artifacts within long gone dormant.
“Fograth must have had that drill assembled down here,” Syla whispered, creeping forward.
“Your usurper?” Sword in hand, Vorik walked at her side.
“The throne thief, yes. Apparently, he didn’t feel safe staying in the royal suite.”
“But the mad god’s old laboratory was a cozy place to camp?”
“I guess so.”
They eased into a tunnel beyond the alcove, the fog swirling about their legs. There were no lanterns on the walls here, but a sickly green glow from ahead provided illumination enough to see more rubble on the ground.
Vorik sensed so much power ahead that he couldn’t pick out Jhiton’s aura, but his brother had to be in there. Unless he’dleft, there was nowhere else he could be. Vorik would prefer it if Jhitonhadleft, and he wouldn’t have to battle him again, but they wouldn’t be that lucky. He knew it.
The fog grew denser, swirling through the green light. A gasp of pain came from the laboratory.
Vorik picked up his pace to jog ahead of Syla so that he could better protect her. In the dense murk, he almost missed seeing a figure lying on the ground. A man. Vorik stepped in fresh blood that had pooled under him.
“I think that’s Fograth,” Syla whispered, waving at the misty air. It didn’t clear much.
“Your usurper?” Vorik asked, though she’d already clarified that. “If my brother did it, you owe him a kiss.”
“I most certainly do not. He?—”
Several rapid clangs rang out—sword strikes. A thud followed, and a woman groaned. Power flared.
Vorik rushed ahead of Syla. He entered the dusty laboratory, stepping past a camp complete with a bed, chairs, and a desk, to peer into the fog. He could pick out the origin of the green glow. It came from a spacious alcove in a stone wall to the left, the large entrance framed by two looming wyvern statues. The glow seemed to stretch between them, creating a barrier over the alcove, and a surprising number of people were trapped inside. Dressed in all manner of clothing—more than one person wore a nightshirt—the men and women didn’t look to have anything in common. No, that wasn’t true. Every hand he could make out had a moon-mark on the back.
The people—theprisoners—were all peering through the green barrier toward the center of the spacious cavern of a laboratory. Three uniformed men lay dead on the ground, and a sole woman, also in uniform, was on her knees and trying to rise, blood streaming from multiple wounds as she leaned on her sword while gripping her side. Captain Vonla. Vorik worriedthey were already too late to help her. In the shadows not ten feet in front of her stood Jhiton, his eyes glowing as he stared at Vorik and Syla, his face somehow scarily intent and devoid of emotion—of humanity—at the same time.
Even as Syla entered and blurted, “Captain Vonla,” Jhiton pointed his sword at the woman.
They were nowhere near touching, but power flowed from his blade and knocked into her. Vonla flew back, landing near Syla and Vorik.
“I’ll handle Jhiton,” Vorik said, though he had no idea if he could. “Help her, and free your people.”
Taking a bracing breath, Vorik sprang past Vonla and charged at his brother. No, at the storm god inhabiting his brother.
