Page 21 of To Sway a Prince
Well, I was ready to meet it. I assumed what I hoped was a good stance, summoning a knotted golden rope and holding it between both hands in a large overlapping loop. It hummed and vibrated in my grip, warm and familiar. It barely took the full measure of energy to form.
The gears clicked and locked once more, and the platform shifted ever so slightly beneath my feet.
Knots take me, this was going to be intense.
THWACK!
I barely registered what had happened before the platform sprang upward, shooting us up with magically enhanced force. It felt like I left my stomach behind, and the force of the wind against my face tore at my hair and skin, ripping at my clothes. The entirety of the shaft blurred around me as I shot upward, ever upward, just behind the purple dragon. She didn't acknowledge me at all, wings tight to her body and her neck fully extended.
My vision tunneled. I willed myself to keep my eyes open as that patch of blue sky came closer and closer. The wind battered against my ears. If there was a pulseport trigger up there, this was really going to hurt.
The dragon glanced down at me as we sliced out of the tower's opening. Another smoky huff followed. I tensed, watching for her to spread her wings or lash her tail. Magic sang in my fingertips.
She remained perfectly straight and poised. Her lion-like tail coiled as we emerged, but she did not strike me. The air rushed over me, cool and crisp as we soared higher and higher.
As soon as we emerged, that blissful moment of hang time began. I twisted about to take in my surroundings, scanning and filing it away as I gripped the knotted rope tighter.
A vast deciduous forest spread like an emerald sea, its gold-touched edges flickering in the sunlight. Beyond it, foothills rolled into a jagged horizon, a deep indigo mist swathing their peaks. And there—oh, there it was.
The Chasm.
A gaping wound in the flesh of the world, shimmering with an ethereal pale-purple light. Mist flowed from it. Dark shapes pulsed at the edges, a massive claw grasping outside it. The dragons soared and spiraled above it. Zephyrus was on the outer flank, half covered in tendrils of mist. I remained silent, knowing better than to draw attention to myself. His attention was focused on the Chasm, where it should be. And the Chasm—it was—it was alive. Or something close to that.
I curled my right hand to my chest, drew up my energy, and then swept it into the air, forming a hooked rune for flotation and protection. It seared into the sky, brilliant gold like the knotted rope in my hand. Then, before I could fall from the sky, I flung my knotted lasso over the rune. It hooked into place as gravity took hold of me, but my magic held fast.
My stomach lurched in protest as my feet kicked. It took another rotation to swing my arm up over the golden hook of the rune. Then I clambered up. My cloak snagged on one of the gaps, a few of the threads tearing. I swept myself up higher.
The purple dragon peered down at me, far higher now. Her dark-green eyes narrowed in on me as if to ensure I was safe. Then she thrust down her wings. The great gust that followed was almost enough to knock me loose. Almost. I clung to the rune, the knotted rope in my hands and the cool fresh air filling my lungs.
Beautiful. I adored the heights and the wind in my hair. The only way this would be better was if I were with Zephyrus right now. I cast one more glance at the Chasm and the frothing mist that seeped from that wound. Something was in there. Multiple somethings. The dragons still circled. I needed to get to a safer point.
The tower was only about twenty feet below me. The gears clacked and shuddered as the sliding hatch closed. And the tower surrounded that passage, all dark stones with broad parapets wide enough to march shoulder to shoulder with a dragon on each side. I could practically smell that frosted silver and musky earth scent, though the wind was to my back at the moment. More roars, challenging and defiant, filled the air.
Crouching on the widest point of the rune, I launched myself at the tower. It was a fair distance away, but I'd made tougher jumps onto a moving target and I could always pulseport if I failed. The wind pushed me along this time. With a skidding thud, I struck the stone in between the stone merlons and landed on the massive flat surface of the tower.
Spinning around, I ran back and leaned out through the crenels. The strong stench of blood and ozone struck my nostrils. I winced, my eyes squeezing half shut against the brightness of the sun reflecting off that mist and the onslaught upon my senses. For the first time I realized just how precarious the tower's position was.
The enormous structure was built directly alongside a cliff. The Chasm was not simply in the air above but stretched down into that cliff. Something about it made it hard to focus on or to know for certain what you were looking at. The cloying purple mist spread along like a sea, lapping at the jagged stones that lined it. A single section of a stone bridge jutted out from the tower's entrance at the base and continued all the way to one of the rifts in the Chasm among shattered ruins of buildings longgone. Dark forms bubbled in that place. A claw dripping with something like oil lifted from the mist and fell back, but for that moment, all the color faded from around it. Another deep wet roar gurgled from within the Chasm.
Ramiel strode out along that bridge, his gaze straight ahead and the wind on his face. His arms were at his sides, his hands encased in brocaded silver air carver gloves. Most likely intended to make it easier for him to craft solid and powerful runes. Even from this distance, I could tell that they were ancient. Powerful too, most likely smelling of frosted silver.
The dragons spun in the sky.
Zephyrus! I spotted him again, now in a triangular formation with a dark-green drake and a silverish purple dragon. He was right in the center, wings thrusting powerfully and in perfect sync with the others.
My heart swelled with pride. Look at him go!
It was impressive. He was impressive.
Ramiel reached the edge of the bridge. He pressed his hands out into the air, palms facing to the sides. The wind whipped faster around him, tugging at his silver hair and his robes. He barely flinched as silver light coiled around his hands and vibrated in the air.
Then, unlike in the stable, he started to move to summon his magic. He sliced his hands through the air in a complex pattern. Several feet before him, the runes formed, mirroring his movements with great connected strokes of shimmering light that burned with their own life.
Three dragons swooped down, circled four runes, and then carried them away, their talons somehow gripping them. They carried them out above one of the wounds in the rift. Three others including Zephyrus dove in and defended, driving back the wraith-like creatures that clawed through the mist. Three more soared up into the heights, spun around, and descendedtoward each of the runes once they were put in place. The lines of the runes burned bright silver in the sky. Some dropped over the mist while others began to come apart and coil together like enchanted ropes.
Sections of the rift came together with the dragon flight and disintegrating runes. Their wings drove the mist down, intensifying its color. When the rune energy came into contact, the rifts sealed into a deeper and thicker mass.
Claws slashed up, emerging briefly from the mist. The three defending dragons dove down. Roars followed, and those three including Zephyrus shot up once more. Dark blood stained the maw of the purple dragon, and she wheeled about at the head of the formation like a commander. Zephyrus shook his great head and wheeled about as a massive blunt head emerged from below.
