Page 152 of Of Serpents and Ruins
Tile called out, his voice reedier in this cavern. "That has been the problem since the start. It may not even be the Gola Resh entirely. If it were not for our people being bound to this land and the sea itself, we could have fled. But we are as tied to its life as it is tied to ours. No magic of any of the other nations or realms has been able to sever this bond."
I scanned the faction before returning to Elias, my voice strengthening as I saw the fear and sorrow in their eyes. "Elias, you showed me what was in your book as well. The visions you were having. There was death in there as well. The Gola Resh offers only lies. Deep down, you know this." I started to step closer.
Brandt grunted, putting his arm out to stop me from getting any closer. A muscle in his jaw twitched before he looked backto the traitors. "Fight with us, not against us, Elias. You are still Sepeazian."
Elias’s mouth twisted. Sweat glistened over his face, and his expression darkened. "Kairos Faction," he snarled. "Attack the Gola Resh."
The Gola Resh chuckled darkly as the hooded warriors spun around, their weapons pointed at her. "Do any of you think I would actually permit you to speak if this—" she gestured toward them as she floated backward over the lava, leaving the talismans unguarded, "— was in any way a threat to me?" She smirked, her voice dripping with derision. "But if you want to fight, far be it from me to deny you your last request." She then clenched her hands into fists, her claws curling up against her arms.
The ground shook, and the lava in the chasm below started to bubble and churn with a terrifying violence. With guttural roars, creatures formed from the lava and crawled up out of the fiery pool. Their hulking, misshapen bodies moved up the sides, deformed claws gouging into the stone.
STELLA
So much for turning the tide.
My pulse skipped. Time slowed.
Brandt’s snarl shook the earth. "Shoot frost and water upon them. Don’t let them reach the top."
Tile turned back to the arcanists, striking the air with his arms. He gestured for them to come to the center, uttering incomprehensible words.
Half of Elias’s Kairos Faction strode to the edges, bringing out bows and white-tipped or black-tipped arrows and feathered bolts from within their cloaks. The arcanists swept up their hands and chanted their incantations. The bolt and arrow tips glowed bright and frosted, turning blue. Steam rose from the weapons. They at once rained down their arrows on the advancing creatures.
The melee warriors circled around the arcanists, Kairos Faction members mixing with those loyal to us from the start. They formed an armored circle with the dinosaurs there to help defend us as the arcanists chanted.
Several of the water serpent shifters without ranged weapons transformed. They attacked the stalactites and boulders, pushing them off the edge to strike the creatures.
"Spear wielders," Brandt bellowed. "Strike at the cold." He turned toward me, jaw set. "Stella."
That was all he said, but I understood and tipped my head forward. He would handle fighting off the monsters. I would make sure the ritual was completed.
His body spasmed as he became the red and black serpent again, horns gleaming and scales shining. He coiled his body around a cluster of stone, snapped it off, and then chucked it off the side at one of the advancing monsters.
A spray of lava exploded up, striking the ceiling and hissing.
The spear wielders, with weapons easily fifteen to twenty feet long, sprang to the edges, adjusting their grip and jabbing downward. They struck at the advancing monsters, aiming at the dark patches where the cold and water had created vulnerabilities for the lava monsters.
The arcanists continued to chant. The ice-blue magic curled around the weapon blades and tips. Some wavered in coloration, a few didn’t change, a few dropped what they had.
We didn’t have much time. Our magic was failing too, probably drained by the Gola Resh. But it would be enough. The table was right there. We’d subverted the ambush.
Except—we were missing something. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
Kine prepared to charge toward the table. I seized the sleeve of his robe. He spun back to face me. "Bug, you all right?"
I held up my finger. Why was the Gola Resh being so passive? She was just watching us, hovering over the lava, well out of reach of the weapons. Not even looking at the weapons. It was true that she had to cast them in so that the Babadon could be resurrected, and the two rituals were similar. We had to do the same.
Tile had our reagents. He stood in the center of the circle of arcanists, weaving and chanting and guiding. When it was time, he’d be ready.
But what else did the Gola Resh require to bring the Babadon back?
Was there any way to make life without taking in a situation like this?
Was there another trap besides the ambush?
There had to be, because here was precisely what we needed all laid out like gifts.
Gifts she’d turned into curses.
