Dragon Empress

Chapter 26

Gathering his scattered wits, he took stock of his surroundings. A black, luminescent wall bubbled before him, arcing in a great dome. Glowing purple thorns protruded from its concave surface.

“How did you get here, human?”

Viran started at the unexpected voice. His limbs felt quite as wobbly as the ground as he pushed himself upright, turning toward the center of the dome enclosure.

A gasp caught in his throat, and for several moments he forgot to breathe. A haze of energy permeated the air. It had condensed in spots to form crackling purple chains that wrapped around three massive shapes. Magic oozed from the behemoths in distinct auras: white, blue, red.

Air, water, fire.

“Valaan?” he whispered, gazing at the closest shape. He couldn’t see many details beneath the god’s bleeding energy, but he had the impression of an avian body and beaked head.

The shape strained against its shackles. “You know me.”

Viran nodded, placing his left fist to his chest and bowing. He had witnessed godly power before, but never had he encountered anything quite like this. The phoenix loomed three heights above him. Even bound and broken, the Allentrian guardian was mighty.

“How did you get here?” Valaan repeated.

“I came to rescue you.” For the first time since they’d devised this plan, Viran realized how ridiculous it sounded.

“A mere mortal cannot free us,” hissed a powerful feminine voice.

His gaze shifted to the left, where a long, sinuous shape bled blue magicthreads. Purple energy chains had wrapped her in merciless coils.

“You are Zumarra,” said Viran, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Serpent-god of the Galantasa, and Necrovar’s prisoner.”

The shape—Zumarra—writhed. Her chains bit into her, and she subsided.

“He should not have been able to defeat me,” she whispered. “I was strong.”

“We were all strong,” snapped the third shape. Given the cloudy white-gray aura and the odd proportions of the body, Viran assumed this was Naero, gryphon-god of the Erastate. “Yet the Shadow overpowered us in a matter of months.”

“How long has it been, mortal?” said Valaan. “How many ages have passed since Allentria fell?”

“None,” said Viran. “And Allentria hasn’t fallen.”

“Impossible,” growled Naero. “Without us, the land will be dangerously imbalanced. A perfect breeding ground for Necrovar’s darkness to fester and thrive.”

Valaan made a thoughtful humming sound. “Shivnath remains free. If our sister has managed to hold him off—”

“Still you defend the lizard,” Naero spat. “It is her fault we are here. We supported her plan for the rheenar, we donated a portion of our powers to the cause. But her chosen mortal was weak. She fell to Necrovar, as I knew she would.”

Viran perked up. “You’re talking about Keriya Soulstar.”

The gods, who’d been abuzz with furious energy, grew unnaturally still.

“What do you know of her?” asked Zumarra.

“Everything,” Viran whispered, his chest tightening. “She didn’t fall to Necrovar. She faced him in battle and won, banishing him to the Etherworld.”

Naero scoffed. “Lies. Why are we still imprisoned, if the Shadow is, too?”

“The Shadow’s enchantment holds,” said Valaan, “but we cannot deny it has weakened. Perhaps that’s why we regained consciousness.”

“You think the most powerful dark force in the history of Selaras was bested by a human girlchild?” sneered Naero. “This place has fried what little brains you had.”

“It’s true,” said Viran. “Keriya Soulstar is the descendant of Valerion Equilumos, and inherited his power. She used valemagic to re-imprison Necrovar. She has the ability to destroy the Shadow. And she will.”

A low, dangerous growl rumbled in Naero’s chest. “Shivnath kept this information from us. Why?”

“She must have had her reasons,” said Valaan.

“There was no good reason to hide this! No reason, unless it was spawned of treachery and deceit. If the girl was born with the ability to defeat Necrovar, why did Shivnath demand we donate portions of our magics to her?”

“So the mortal could be balanced, and stand strong against the Shadow—”

“Hah!” Naero tossed his head, and his chains tightened like nooses. “Something does not add up, brother, and I think you know it. You’ve spent the last ten ages being a Shivnath apologist, but how do you explain why we were imprisoned while she remained free? If the girlchild was not defeated, if her power—and, by proxy, ours—was not absorbed by Necrovar, why did the three of us fall?”

Unease twined through Viran’s gut. The gryphon-god made good points. Could there be another reason for Shivnath’s questionable actions, a darker and more dangerous reason than those Keriya had already unearthed?

“Shivnath is not beyond error,” Valaan said eventually. “Perhaps she made a mistake—”

“Shivnath does not make mistakes.” Zumarra’s tone was glacial. “A dragon always has a plan.”

Valaan clicked his beak in agitation, but did not argue. Naero, too, fell silent. The guardians stirred restlessly as they lapsed into thought, their bindings pulsing.

Viran cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m here to set you free—”

“Idiotic flesh-rat. We cannot be freed by the likes of you,” said Naero. “Only the magic that imprisoned us may free us. And judging by your eyes, you do not wield valemagic.”

“Are you sure?” Zumarra shifted against her chains. “I see hints of purple in the blue.”

“Wishful thinking, and foolish,” Naero told her dismissively.

Viran faltered. Here was a stumbling block none of them had anticipated. The dragons had been trapped in the Etherworld’s main layer, but this cage was a separate space. Viran had no idea how he would go about saving the gods, let alone his friends. He did not, as Naero pointed out, have valemagic.

But I have Sethildras.

The legendary blade sang as he drew it from its sheath. Its white-gold blade glinted in the light of the vale-chains.

“This is Valerion’s sword,” he announced to his captive audience. “Within this blade lies a piece of his soul. It can repel Necrovar’s power. Perhaps it will be enough to do what must be done.”

Zumarra writhed. Naero hissed. Valaan leaned forward, tilting his head with interest. Viran approached the phoenix first—he seemed the most reasonable of the guardians.

Please Ra, let this work, Viran prayed, hefting Sethildras in his left hand. His right prosthetic hung limp and useless. He used airmagic to control the hand’s motion, and he couldn’t wield here.

His muscles felt weak, as if they’d atrophied during his imprisonment in the jelly. Setting his jaw, Viran targeted one of the purple chains twining around Valaan’s leg. Hoping for something, but expecting nothing, he struck.

The chain shrieked when the sword connected with it. Sparks burst from the impact. A maddening, high-pitched wail filled the dome, like the incessant whistle of a tea kettle boiled over.

The sound pressed against Viran, making his eardrums feel like they might rupture. He wanted to cringe away and protect his ears from the horrible noise, but he was still holding Sethildras—and Sethildras was stuck fast in the chain.

“Again,” a voice boomed above the tortured shrieking. “Keep going!”

Panting with effort, Viran wrenched Sethildras free of the vale-chain. His vision blurred and he nearly collapsed. The awful sound sapped him of the will to go on.

I must go on. For Allentria. For Keriya.

Hearth thundering, he hefted the blade and brought it down again with all his might. The sword bit into the chain, which renewed its wild shrieking. Cold sweat popped on Viran’s brow. He didn’t know how much more he could take. The noise grated against him, rattling his bones.

Raising Sethildras, which had become a leaden weight, he slammed it against the chain again.

The binding shattered in a miniature purple explosion. The shrieking rose in volume but fell in pitch, becoming a roar of wildfires and volcanoes. Pain reverberated up Viran’s arm from the impact. He staggered sideways, unsure if he could continue cutting the god free—but apparently, one break was all that was necessary.

Valaan stamped his clawed feet and freed his other leg. With an ethereal cry, he spread his wings and burst through the remainder of his shackles.

He shed darkness like a snake sheds skin, revealing his brilliant plumage. Shadows fled in fear of the glorious array of crimson and sunset hues that constituted his form.

“FREE,” he bellowed, blazing with triumphant light. “I am free!”

The phoenix-god lowered his head to gaze at Viran. His eyes, two brilliant orbs of purple with round, dark pupils, glowed brighter than all the thorns and chains in the dome.

“I am in your debt, mortal,” he rumbled.

“Don’t mention it,” Viran wheezed, breathless.

“Please,” said a soft voice to his left, “help me.”

Hearing a god plead in such a way made Viran’s stomach twist. Zumarra’s blue aura flared as he limped toward her, bracing himself for the ordeal ahead.

“Courage,” the phoenix-god whispered behind him. “I am free now. I will help.”

Gathering his strength, Viran tensed every muscle. He targeted a spot where Zumarra’s chain looked thinnest and, putting his back into it, swiped again.

He’d hit a better spot this time, because the chain shattered on impact. He reeled, dizzy and weak, but Zumarra grew strong. She thrashed with renewed vigor. With a blinding flare of her blue aura, the water serpent broke through her chains, molting her Shadow-skin. Her iridescent body glinted with reflected light, turning her fish-like scales into galaxies.

Drained of energy but determined to finish what he’d started, Viran approached Naero. He suspected the gryphon would not beg. Viran would not make him beg—that wouldn’t be right. With two gods free and one well-placed swipe, he freed the final Allentrian guardian. Naero emerged from his Shadow chrysalis in a burst of luminous white fur and gray feathers.

Phoenix-song filled the dome, pouring strength into Viran’s aching body. Zumarra snaked around, wriggling and growling in delight. Naero flexed and spread his wings. The three ancient gods cavorted like Jidaelni schoolchildren at play.

“Free,” Zumarra cried, arcing across the dome.

But they weren’t free. Viran had broken their chains, yet they remained trapped in this wretched place.

“Silly man-thing.” The serpent-god darted down to stare at him. Each of her glowing purple eyes was larger than Viran’s head. “You are in the presence of gods. The Shadow cheated to subdue us—under normal circumstances, we are strong.”

“And it is time we returned home,” said Valaan.

“See if you can hold us now, Necrovar!” Naero reared on his feline hind legs and slashed at the air with his avian front talons. Where he raked through the hazy energy, bands of shimmery light appeared—open wounds in the fabric of the Etherworld. Through the ragged claw marks, a windswept winter plain grew visible.

Naero shredded at the Rift, savaging it with talon and beak until he’d created a sizable portal. He sprang through, and the moment he returned to Allentria, his form vanished.

Zumarra acted next, digging her fangs into invisible threads and whipping her head back and forth. Another shining portal emerged from her attack, one that led to midnight watery depths. She dove through and was gone in a trice.

Valaan raised a taloned foot, but Viran cried, “Wait!”

The phoenix paused and looked at him. “You will be able to exit through any of these rifts and return to Allentria.”

“I didn’t come alone.” Viran retraced his steps, pacing to the edge of the dome. The phoenix-god waited in silence, watching as he sought the ghostly forms of his friends.

“Here,” he said, pointing them out. “You owe your freedom to these mortals. Lord G’shídrian, Heart of the Flame’shikrim, asked us to do this. Roxanne Fleuridae spent a year researching how to rescue you. Effrax Emberwill, King of the Fironem, supported and funded that work.”

The fiery god drew near, peering at the trapped bodies. An unmistakable gleam of fondness shone in his vibrant eyes.