Dragon Empress

Chapter 30

“We have one dragon,” muttered Effrax, who stood beside Roxanne. The triumph that had shone so briefly on his face after they’d freed Valaan had been snuffed out in the three days since they’d returned from the Etherworld. Now he looked haggard and grim. “I’ll bet my crown Belbreeze is writing Caelburn’s speeches, too.”

Roxanne let out a bitter snort. “The middle of a gods-damned war, and they’re still playing politics.”

“The more politics I have to deal with, the more I realize it’s just another form of battle,” he replied in a bone-dry voice. “I can’t believe there was a time in my life when I wanted to be involved in this.”

“You got involved with politics for the same reason Fletcher did,” she told him in a low voice. “Because you wanted to help people.”

Effrax didn’t reply. Sneaking a sideways glance at him, Roxanne saw his throat bob with emotion. She allowed herself a small smile; her uncharacteristic show of softness had rendered him speechless.

“Dragon Speaker,” yelled Caelburn, “you may launch!”

A pang shot through Roxanne. She still wasn’t used to Fletcher being addressed that way. The green dragon leapt into the air and winged westward, her friend’s small form just visible.

“Shields up,” ordered Caelburn.

Roxanne sank into the awful, interminable calm before the storm of battle. She looked at G’shídrian, who hovered nearby. That’s our cue.

The phoenix lord dipped his head in acknowledgement, then shrilled a cry to his brethren. A line of Flame’shikrim rose from either side of the division, surrounding the creatures on the plain. Phoenix flame, so bright and pure that shadows couldn’t penetrate it, snaked around the World Alliance to prevent enemies from infiltrating their ranks.

How are they doing? Roxanne asked, watching the red-gold firebirds work.

Much better, since Valaan’s return, G’shídrian replied, rising in a flurry of sparks to disappear into the ranks of his fellows. But even Valaan cannot ensure our victory. The enemy does not wield as we do, and they are exploiting that advantage.

Roxanne’s lips thinned. Moorfainians weren’t affected by entropy because they didn’t wield from their souls. They summoned daemonion to use as expendable pawns in battle.

“Warriors, at the ready,” Enwha called to her troops.

This was Roxanne’s second cue. She turned and strode down the line of skimmers. While riders lowered their goggles and tightened the straps of their stirrups, Roxanne brushed the minds of each giant insect. They were capable and clever—clever enough to want to fight of their own volition. They were eager to hunt daemonion.

Satisfied that the animal troops were willing and able, Roxanne jogged back down the line, coming to stop beside Effrax and Enwha.

“Everyone’s good to go,” she informed the aerial leader.

Far from looking reassured, Enwha’s jaw clenched.

“I thought I could change things,” she murmured. “After the Battle of Shan Mawr, I vowed to make the Black Temple pay for its crimes. I wanted justice. I wanted to make a difference in the world.”

A bright flash illuminated the western front, indicating that Khyvette had engaged the shadowtroops. Enwha’s hands tightened on the pommel of her guar-resin saddle.

“But nothing has changed. Nothing I did mattered. We are still at war. And I want to keep fighting, but this . . .” Her voice cracked as she scanned the chaos. “I am tired of this.”

Roxanne moved closer and gripped the other woman’s hand. “You changed the world. Your people helped ours, expecting nothing in return. You were the first to befriend Allentria after it had been friendless for ages. It’s amazing, what you did. And I promise you that we will defeat Moorfain. Together.”

Enwha’s eyes widened at the touch, but a faint smile brushed her lips. “With you as our ally, I have the utmost faith that’s true.”

“If you two are done flirting,” Effrax said dryly from behind them, “perhaps you’d like to join the war?”

Enwha’s smile widened into a steely, mirthless grin. She issued an ear-splitting whistle. A pulsating buzz swelled from the skimmers as their wings turned to rainbow smears in the early morning light, beating faster in anticipation of flight. Roxanne squeezed Enwha’s fingers and patted the odhonata on its plated thorax. Then she withdrew.

“All officers on comms, I’m requesting backup at Port Cinder!”

She froze. That unmistakable gravelly voice belonged to Gavoch the dwarf. She raised her left hand, frowning at her ring.

“We’re under attack,” Gavoch continued.

Her heart plummeted like a skimmer in a nosedive. Beside her, Effrax swore under his breath.

“Hold,” Enwha cried to her unit, raising her fist. The fleet quieted, warriors exchanging worried looks.

Roxanne strained to hear something more, but silence now stretched on the communication line. The enchantment only transmitted spoken words to the ears of intended recipients. If she wasn’t getting anything, she wasn’t one of the intended parties.

Enwha, however, went rigid. “Understood,” she said in a low voice.

“What is it?” Roxanne asked her. “What’s happening?”

“Commander-General Caelburn has ordered me to lead the odhonata fleet to Port Cinder. A group of Moorfainians has invaded the mainland city.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Effrax.

“Me, too,” said Roxanne.

He shook his head. “You’re needed here to help the phoenixes—”

“G’shídrian’s capable of commanding his own unit,” she interrupted. “It’s more important to stop the Moorfainians from gaining another foothold.”

Effrax looked like he wanted to argue. Perhaps he didn’t want to waste the time doing so, because he turned away from her and called for the division’s portable teleportal.

Nerves crackling, Roxanne paced back and forth like a caged animal while they waited. That all of this was happening now, when Keriya was trapped in a b****y parallel universe, was the worst luck.

Maybe not, she thought, as a courier elf arrived with two black, metallic poles. Maybe they knew Keriya was gone, and that’s why they decided to strike.

Effrax accepted the poles, staking them in the sere grass of the Erastatian plain. A new and improved version of the originals, they did not require blood to kickstart the enchantment. The simple touch of magicthreads was enough to get them going.

Flames sparked in Effrax’s palm, and he offered a flickering tongue of magic to one of the two boundary poles. In response, a sheet of pearly magic rippled to life between them. A vision faded up within it: the docks of Port Cinder’s mainland city.

A paved expanse of stone stretched beyond the wharves. Roxanne covered her nose to blot out an ashy stench. Beyond the dock rose red granite cliffs, glittering with flecks of mica and minerals. Just visible over the low bluff, the walled city burned.

At another whistle from Enwha, the odhonata rose, hovering half a height above the ground. The aerial commander shot through first, and Wind buffeted Roxanne as fifty riders followed. They angled skyward in the Fironem, rising sharply to the east of the city.

Effrax glanced at Roxanne, and a dull ache pulsed in her chest. He had done some—many—questionable things off the battlefield, but in a fight, she trusted him. From their first battle in Doryn Fen to now, they’d always had each other’s backs.

Together, they stepped through the portal.

As they ran up the cliffside steps, the settlement came into full view. Broken war machines littered the wall ramparts. Fire licked the sky beyond, stretching from sandstone buildings.

“Helkryvt’s blood,” hissed Effrax, pausing on the lip of the granite bluff. “They’ve already got captives.”

He was right. Out of the eastern city gates snaked a long line of black-robed Moorfainians. Each man dragged a prisoner, and each prisoner was guarded by a small, misshapen creature.

“And they’ve already summoned,” said Roxanne, wilting. More than a hundred sorcerers massed on the eastern plain. She didn’t stand a chance against that many daemonion. Three days of battling entropy and shadowtroops alike, plus the tortures of the Etherworld before that, had depleted her source.

Yet even as she watched, she noticed the little demons vanishing. They weren’t just turning to shadow, either—one by one, they winked out of existence without a trace.

“Generals Emberwill and Fleuridae!” Enwha hailed them through the comms ring. “The Moorfainians are banishing their daemonion to the Etherworld. We are preparing a strike that, we hope, will keep the captives safe while taking out the sorcerers.”

Effrax’s brow furrowed. “They’re banishing the daemonion? Why?”

“I don’t know,” said Roxanne, clenching her fists. “But the humans will be easy targets without their demons.”

She broke into a run, aiming for the mass of Moorfainians. The metallic ringing of Effrax’s prosthetic told her he was following. Heedless of the fact that they were alone and exposed on the wide open plain, they raced north.

“Enwha, we’ll engage the sorcerers,” said Roxanne. “When they’re distracted, you attack.”

“Copy.”

Drawing deep, sharp breaths, Roxanne sank into her inner consciousness and embraced her source. She was pleased to find her magic alert and responsive, though its glow was far more feeble than she’d have liked.

It doesn’t matter. I must keep fighting.

She was just as invested in Moorfain’s defeat as the Ghoori people were. She wanted justice, too, for everyone the Black Temple had hurt and wronged.

Roxanne grabbed energy from her soul and threaded it into the ground. Wielding came easier today than it had in weeks, and she gouged an earthen projectile from the soil with little fuss. The spell was nowhere close to her usual level of magical mastery, but it would kill a man in a trice.

Miraculously, the sorcerers paid her and Effrax no mind. They were busy assembling in a large ring, gathering in clumps.

“How the blood did so many of them get through our coastal defenses?” panted Effrax.

Roxanne didn’t know, and couldn’t waste breath on a reply. She narrowed in on the nearest group of sorcerers and launched her earthen projectile.

The stone never hit them. It collided with some invisible barrier in an explosion of crackling, obsidian sparks.

She skidded to a halt, her pulse racing. Frantically, she scanned the sky. Adrenaline flooded her when she saw the aerial unit diving from high above.

“Enwha,” she screamed. “Abort!”

Her cry reached them just in time. The skimmers scattered sideways, fanning out. A volley of sharp stones, wielded by their riders, peppered the barrier. They exploded on impact, marking its edges with a cloud of debris. It looked to be a giant dome.

“What is this crackling barrier?” Enwha asked through the ring. “We’ve never known daemonion to have this power.”

Dread trickled down Roxanne’s spine. “That’s because it’s not a daemonion power.”

She’d seen this before, during the Final Battle. Now she had a sinking suspicion as to how the Moorfainians had so easily penetrated Allentria’s defenses.

Yes, there—materializing on the field, in the center of the ring of Moorfainians, was a necrocrelai. A mane of gray-blue fur ringed her head, whisking in the wind. A bald tail lashed behind her. She leaned back on her feline hind legs, spread her great leathery wings, and emitted a shriek of cruel delight.

“Commander-General, we need more backup at Port Cinder,” said Effrax. “Ashétyn’s here.”

“Granted. I’m sending the Dragon Speaker.” Caelburn’s response reached Roxanne this time, too. “All units stand down until he and Khyvette arrive.”

A bolt of black lightning crackled to life before Ashétyn. It sliced through the barrier and collided with one of the skimmers, felling it in one strike. Apparently, wielding was easier for the necrocrelai today, too.

Effrax and Roxanne exchanged a look.

“To hell with orders,” he growled. “I’ll die before letting Ashétyn take my kingdom again.”

“Then I’m with you,” she told him.

His mahogany eyes grew liquid. He offered her a quivering, lopsided smile. Together, they continued racing toward the Moorfainians.

A flash illuminated the sky, burning Roxanne’s retinas. Khyvette appeared, teleporting in above the burning city. The odhonata riders rallied around her, converging toward the glittering green dragon to assist.