As Jhiton watched him come, he raised both of his swords. Black energy crackled around the white blades. As if the gargoyle-bone magic hadn’t been bad enough…
Syla knelt beside Vonla as Vorik charged across the laboratory to confront Jhiton. Again. Such power emanated from the stormer general that Syla worried Vorik was running to his death. She didn’t know if the mad god was inside Jhiton or merely feeding power into him from whatever realm he inhabited, but, either way, they weren’t facing a mortal enemy. Not this time.
“Your Majesty,” Vonla gasped, pain contorting her face.
“It’s all right. I’ll heal you.”
Vonla shook her head weakly, and as Syla rested a hand on her shoulder, intending to use her power to knit together what looked like multiple stab wounds, a familiar voice yelled, “No!” from an alcove she’d barely registered.
It was Relvin. His shoulder-length blond hair was lank and greasy, and a yellowing bruise marred his cheek. He was imprisoned behind a glowing green barrier with dozens of other people. Syla recognized some of them, and realized they all had moon-marked hands. These were the prisoners Fograth had been rounding up. But hadn’t Relvin been workingwiththe lord? Not against him? Maybe they’d had a falling out…
“Queen Syla!” several people called in recognition and relief.
“That captain killed Lord Fograth!” Relvin yelled over them. “She ran in and slit his throat before he knew what was going on.”
Syla looked down at Vonla but didn’t hesitate to send healing magic into her.
“To clear the way for you, Your Majesty,” Vonla gasped. “The throne… was meant to be yours.”
Focused on trying to heal her injuries, Syla didn’t respond. There was something wrong with the sword wounds. She sensed a malevolent dark energy about them, almost like an infection. An evil magical infection.
“Fograth was in the way,” Vonla whispered, already sounding weaker. “They all were.”
Distressed, Syla tried to use her power to drive out the taint within the captain. Meanwhile, the two men battled.
The clash of swords and Vorik’s grunts and curses, in contrast to the utter silence of Jhiton, made it hard to concentrate. Worse, the malevolent magic within Vonla writhed and twisted away from Syla’s attempts to stamp it out. And it was spreading. There were multiple sword wounds, multiple places that sent the dark energy flowing inward, seeping deeper into Vonla’s body. A thick trail of it headed toward her heart.
Fear crept into Syla, the fear that, for the first time in a long time, she wouldn’t be able to help a patient. And Vonla had been standing with her since they first met, since before Syla hadproven herself to the other officers. All along, she’d had faith in her.
Sweat ran down the sides of Syla’s face. Sweat from the run down here, sweat from panic.
“Fight it, Vonla,” she whispered, though she didn’t know how the captain could.
Footsteps sounded behind Syla, some of her soldiers reaching the laboratory. But the eyes in the statues of the wyverns flashed, and green energy appeared where the tunnel led into the laboratory. It hadn’t been there before, but it was now. A barrier that kept the men from entering.
Again, Syla willed her power into Vonla, trying to push out the magical infection. Her moon-mark flared silver, and the dragon tattoo hummed with power. Soon,allof Sylahummed, but it still wasn’t enough. Jhiton may have delivered the sword blows, but a god had guided him, and a god had infused those swords with angry storm power.
Vonla’s face twisted in pain, and she gasped, then gripped Syla’s arm. “It was worth it, Your Majesty.”
“You shouldn’t die because you helped me,” Syla said with distress, even though she realized that Vonla must have been the one who’d slit all the throats. Even that of Teyla’s father? Had she gone there before heading to the capital? Before Syla and Fel had reached the estate?
“Worth it,” Vonla whispered. “Just… find a way… stop the storm god. Then… rule, my queen.”
Vorik yelled in surprise and pain, and Syla looked up in time to see him fly across the laboratory, black energy crackling in the air around him. He struck a marble workstation, and a dusty artifact on it flared to life. Angry purple energy shot out, almost like the lightning bolts outside. One sizzled past Vorik’s nose as he landed in a crouch; then it slammed into the high ceiling. Rock tumbled down.
His face impassive, save for the eerily glowing eyes, Jhiton strode toward Vorik.
Vorik used his sleeve to dash sweat from his forehead before bracing himself to meet his brother again.
“Free those people, Syla,” he said, glancing over. “Then get out of here. I don’t know how long I can keep him busy.”
More purple bursts shot out from the awakened artifact. One darted across the laboratory and struck Syla in the shoulder before she could shift away. Pain blasted her as the power knocked her backward. She struck a wall as another sizzling lance of purple energy flashed past.
Wreylith,Syla said as she crawled on hands and knees back toward Vonla who lay disturbingly still now.I need a dragon’s help. I needyourhelp.
Yes,Wreylith said, as if she were monitoring the battle. Maybe she could see it through Syla’s eyes.
But they both knew the dragon couldn’t get in. When Syla confirmed that Vonla had died, tears threatened her eyes, but she made herself hurry to the prisoners. Vorik was risking his life to buy her time to free them, a thought punctuated by a curse of pain as he went flying again. Even as she searched for a way to shut down the barrier, a new fear slammed into her. If Jhiton cutVorikwith the same befouled blades as he’d used on Vonla, he would also be infected by the magical taint that Syla didn’t know how to heal. Didn’t have thepowerto heal.
