“Through there.” This from Tol, who was helping a white-faced Aspen up with one hand, the other gripping a bloodied sword. Hejerked his chin to the blasted gate through which the demon and his beast had disappeared.
They made their way into the dark tunnels but quickly had to hide as the clink of armor followed closely at their heels. Tol pulled them into a shadowed alcove just as voices rang out in front of them.
“This trail of blood leads toward the city. It must be the Night Bringer’s. Both he and theursus magnuswere bleeding profusely when last seen.”
“Follow it,” the Knight Commander said. “The Night Bringer can’t have gotten very far. I want him captured—alive.”
“What about the escaped prisoners?” a man’s voice asked.
“I’ll find them myself,” said the Knight Commander. “The Night Bringer’s followers will get what’s coming for them.”
The Night Bringer’s followers. They really thought they were allied with that murderous demon after all that?
Once the sound of receding footsteps faded, Tol gestured for them to follow him.
“Wait,” Aspen said, frowning in the opposite direction. “Isn’t that the way out? The other way will lead us back to the dragon.”
Tol looked at her with a quizzical brow, no doubt wondering how this girl he’d never seen before, who was clearly not a draconic knight, knew the ins and outs of the Chasm. He shook his head, taking an insistent step in the direction he’d started in. “I can’t leave the dragon here to suffer more torture. You can all stay here or head for the exit, but this is what I have to do.”
He bounded off before any of them could protest. Aspen met Romie’s gaze, the desperation in her eyes also felt by Romie. They couldn’t lose sight of Tol—of this world’s key.
There was no debate as everyone followed Tol. But Romie stopped as she realized Emory was heading the opposite way. “Em—where are you going?”
Emory had trouble meeting her gaze, her eyes sunken with shame. “There’s something I have to do. I’ll be right back, I swear.”
Before Romie could stop her, Emory disappeared into the shadows, using Darkbearer magic to cloak herself. Romie had half a mind to pursue her, but after what happened in the arena, she wasn’t overly eager to be near Emory. Not when there was a risk of her tapping into Romie’s magic again.
With a frustrated sigh, Romie followed the others.
They found their way back to the chamber where the dragon was being kept. The group of sages and alchemists and knights that had tortured the beast were no longer there, but the dragon was. It appeared to be slumbering, the band around its neck connected to five massive chains tethered to the circular wall of the chamber.
“That’s a dragon,” Virgil panted. “We are standing in front of a Tides-damneddragon.”
“Yes, Virgil, we can all see that,” Romie said between her teeth. “Now lower your voice before it decides to burn us to a crisp.”
The dragon lifted its head weakly as Tol approached it. It tried to shuffle backward, no doubt scared of people after what it had endured, but the chains kept it rooted in place.
“We’re not here to hurt you,” Tol said. He sheathed his sword and held his hands up to drive his point home. “Remember me? I was here the day they captured you. I wouldn’t fight you. And when the guards took me, I promised you that if I survived this place, I’d find a way to get you out of here, do you not recall?”
A low sound rumbled in the dragon’s throat. Its pale golden eyes blinked slowly as it took Tol in, as if gauging whether or not it could trust him. It inhaled deeply, and Romie felt Nisha sidling closer to her, no doubt as scared as she was that they were about to be incinerated by dragon flame.
You smell of her, a voice said in Romie’s head.
“It’s speaking to us,” Virgil muttered. “The dragon is speaking to us in our heads.”
Judging from the others’ reactions, they had all heard it too.
This dragon has a name, the voice said with a tinge of annoyance, and Romie swore she heard a huff coming from the dragon.You may address me as Gwenhael.
Its voice was lilting and soft, not at all like Romie expected from such a colossal creature.
“Gwenhael.” Tol bowed slightly at the waist, pressing a hand against his heart. “My name is Tol. I was made a draconic years ago, unbeknownst to me that this was how dragons are treated.”
Your alchemy masters guard their secrets well. It was not always this way. Once, we dragons gave our heart-fire willingly to those who were worthy of our power. But your Fellowship of the Light has since sullied this sacred offering. They imprison those of my kind and torture us to give up our heart-flame, all so they can create more of you.
“I know,” Tol said, dejected. “Had I been aware of this earlier… The Fellowship wanted me to seek out more of your kind. I fear things will only grow worse now that the Night Bringer has risen.”
I remember the days of the Sun Forger and the Night Bringer. They were formidable, designed as mirrors, two sides of a scale. Light and dark, night and day, creation and destruction, beginning and ending. Not better or worse, but equal.
