“HE IS NOT YOURS!” a shout rang out from above them, and a dragon crashed onto the balcony, destroying the railing as she landed. “HE OWES HIS FEALTY TO YOU. NOTHING MORE.”
Lysara turned to the red dragon, the smile still on her face. Anyone else would have fallen to the ground in fear at the sight of the fury in the red dragon, but the goddess seemed completely unfazed by her appearance. “We don’t have to do things this way, but I will train him as I see fit. He is my representative on Nyth, and his body is mine to control.”
“I hold first claim to him and his body, Goddess of Death. You may train him, but you will not force him to be your lover. That is beyond the bounds of fealty.”
Azric scurried behind his closest friend, and she stood defiantly in front of the goddess even though the dragon knew she could not win a fight against Death. Lysara’s smile never wavered as she stared the dragon down. “Fine. I will find others to be his lovers. I am the Goddess of Death and Beauty, Inni the Destroyer. He will become what I want him trained to become, whether or not you agree. It is time to go, Azric. Inni, you are welcome to witness his training if you wish, as I cannot demand you leave his side, but you will not interfere.”
The dragon spread her wings in defiance, and smoke rose from her bared teeth. “I will interfere any time you break the covenant. He does not know what is allowed and what is not, and he is not expected to. I cannot stop you from taking what you are owed, but any step beyond that, and I will.”
Lysara nodded and waved her hand dismissively. “As you will. Now Azric, let me show you your new home.”
The boy looked up at Inni, and she nodded to him, knowing just how much pain and suffering he would endure at the goddess’s hand. The dragon was powerless to stop that, though. All she could do was be there for him and prevent anything from happening that was beyond the covenant made between mother and goddess on that fateful day.
Through the bond the boy and dragon shared, she spoke to him so that the goddess could not hear.You must go with her, Azric. Icannot stop this, but I will never leave your side. No matter what happens, I will stand by you. I will lend you my strength when I can. Know that this will not last forever. You will never be alone. Remember that. We can survive anything as long as we’re together.
Azric took a deep breath and gathered his courage. He would endure. He would be as strong as his parents, as his aunts and uncles, and if he wasn’t, Inni would be there for him. She would always be there for him.
The boy took Lysara’s hand, and that was when everything changed for him.
Chapter 33
Every Mark requires a rite of passage prior to binding the power to the Priest. Like attracts like is the Law, and the Priest who wishes for the Lantern must find a home in darkness first.
~Rhaskar Thorne, Book Five of the Priests
Fiona
It’s been almost a week since I last worked with Azric. My body’s ready for a real test. While training with Darian and the rest of my team has taught me how to work with them, it’s these nights on the dragon’s roost that feel like they truly test me.
Training with my team doesn’t leave me broken like learning to fight the monsters that will be in the trials does. They hold back. They worry about my frailty. Azric doesn’t have to. He knows he can heal my broken body if needed.
“Nyxthos can throw anything at you,” Azric says. “Maybe he’ll pit each team against the other. Maybe instead, he’ll have you fight things that seem impossible to defeat. That is the point ofeverything the gods have done for eighty years, isn’t it? To learn to fight something no one else has ever defeated?”
I step up beside him as the five dragons watch from the other end of the roost. Azric’s shadows hide us from the world on three sides, but this side, which looks out onto the land around Dunloch, is free of them.
It’s a dark world, even under the light of a full moon. Mist rises around the duskthorn trees, hiding the very ground from us, and it feels like we’re standing on a tower amidst the clouds rather than a piece of a castle.
“So how do I train to fight an impossible enemy?” I ask.
A rumble fills the air, and I turn to look at the dragons. Sidon steps forward. He’s the dragon that Rhion and Ainslee ride as they save innocents. He’s the largest by a massive margin. Covered in silver scales the size of my hand that shine of their own accord rather than a reflection of the moon’s light, he’s magnificent. A mix of curled horns and short spikes cover his head. His neck is long and sinuous, rising almost two cottages taller than the rest of the dragons.
His legs are massive, nearly as wide as some towers in Stormhaven. Like a cat, each of his paws ends in long claws that grip the stone and leave long scratches with each step. Unlike the other dragons, though, I can make out the rippling strength that runs along his body. All dragons are massive, but Sidon is… muscular.
“You will fight me, Fiona Thorne,” he says in a rolling voice that sounds far too similar to thunder. “I alone have defeated a Hunter,so if you can survive me, you should be able to survive anything the God of Darkness puts in your path.”
I turn to Azric with fear in my eyes. “There’s no way in the thirteen hells I can defeat a dragon.”
Azric smiles at me, just as cold as ever. “Are you telling me that if Nyxthos were to set you to face a dragon, you’d lay down and die?”
“No, but…”
“Then fight. Stop acting like a stupid human and act like someone who could become the next Champion of Darkness.”
I want to yell at him, to tell him this is stupid, but Sidon takes another step toward me. He’s still far enough away that I feel almost safe. At least safe enough to think for a moment.
The beginning of a plan runs through my mind. I might not be able to kill him, but I might not get killed. That’d be nice.
I dig through one of the less often used pockets in my cloak and pull out an Infusion of the Vulture. Gods, I hate this one. Just as the Boar forces thick fur to grow from my body, the Vulture creates wings that sprout between the plates in my armor and rip through my wrap, shirt, and cloak. They’re built like vulture wings with lean muscle and hollow bones, so they don’t weigh all that much. The process is unpleasant, like the itch of a healing wound, but so much more intense. Those are ignorable, though. Like the Boar, there are real repercussions to the Vulture. Immediately, hunger pangs make my stomach cramp as if I haven’t eaten in a week. Hopefully, my very possible death by a dragon will dull the feeling.
