He turns toward the klericks. “Vanora is a liar!” he points toward her. “This mage claims to be your leader, butIam your true King!” He pounds a fist against his chest. “I am King of the Dragons, King of all Mages. Every one of you klericks is a mage, albeit weak ones.”
I cringe at his words. This was a big mistake. Some of the klericks laugh, others look insulted, and it’s clear that he’s losing even the ones who looked like they’d begun to question Vanora.
Unnoticed in the chaos, Tynan creeps across the stage, keeping to a shadow below the effigy. Once he’s across, he heads toward Saxon, Xendus and Surath.
Zogar and Vanora continue to argue in front of the klericks and the audience, and I have no idea which way the tide is turning.
King Lancet spots Tynan and confronts him. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s clearly heated. The King raises his hand to strike his son, but Tynan ducks under his father’s blow and lands a hard punch to his belly. The King staggers back, and Tynan quickly releases the copper chains holding Xendus’s hands together.
Xendus releases his muzzle and the bindings around his own ankles, as Tynan releases Surath’s hands. And then Xendus takes over freeing Surath and Saxon.
Tynan strides to the platform that Vanora vacated and leaps atop it.
“All of this. It’s all fakery!” Tynan shouts. His voice is amplified, filling the space.
Everyone stops and turns toward Tynan. Clearly whatever magic was used to cast the Prime Klerick’s voice throughout the large space is tied to that platform and not the person upon it. Tynan is suddenly the loudest person in the temple.
“Who the fuck are you?” one of the klericks shouts.
“I am Tynan. Rider of dragons, and Crown Prince of Khotor.”
The crowd visibly reacts, some showing deference at hearing his identity. Most of the klericks seem confused.
“The Prime Klerick has tricked you all!” Tynan shouts and points toward her.
Light glowing around her, Vanora holds up her hands.
Tynan falls to his knees, clearly in pain. My heart rises in my throat and my body itches to run toward him.
Xendus rushes forward. He plants himself between Vanora and Tynan, then thrusts balls of light toward Vanora.
She barely flinches, but Tynan gets back to his feet.
“This man is Xendus,” Tynan gestures toward him. “He is a man, to be sure. But he is also a mage. And he is also the dragon I ride.”
Sounds of dismay and disbelief ripple through the crowd.
“Seize him,” Vanora says. “Seize them all. Obey me or suffer the wrath of Othrix.” Fire erupts from the effigy’s mouth, and some of the guards, who’ve been cowering in the wings, move toward Tynan.
But Xendus firms his stance protecting Tynan. He growls and the guards stop.
“Release me!” Vanora yells.
I turn. Surath and Zogar have Vanora secured. Surath is holding her arms as Zogar binds her in copper chains. Vanora struggles but can’t lift her arms to use her magic, and she seems to be rapidly weakening.
A hand slides onto my shoulder.
I startle, but quickly realize it’s Saxon. I lean back against him, grateful that he’s not only safe, but close to me. His heat and the scent of the forest ease my fear.
“What’s the plan?” I ask.
“This certainly isn’t it.” He shakes his head.
“This image of Othrix?” Tynan, still on the platform, shouts to the crowd. “Thisgodthat you worship? Every part of it is fakery. This image is nothing but pieces of metal, attached to ropes and pulleys, all operated by men, not a god.”
He looks toward the scaffolding structures, along the sides and the back of the altar. “I call on the good men operating these devices to drop their ropes, to redirect their panes of reflective glass that amplify the light, to extinguish the fires creating the smoke and awe.”
Hands above his head, Tynan turns toward one side of the altar then the other, and then he turns so he’s looking directly through the image of Othrix.
