Page 126 of Red Dragon
Vorik spotted her flying on a green dragon near the far end of the canyon. She was trying to evade Jhiton at the same time as she followed Igliana. The orange dragon must have led them here, to where she’d last seen Vorik and the others. Now, Igliana flew in a circle, her gaze scouring the ground. Searching for them. For Vorik? In the hope that finding him would keep the Sixteen Talons from killing the faction dragons and riders? Theydidappear to be outnumbered.
“My brother came for me,” Vorik said, touched but also worried. When he’d allowed himself to be taken prisoner, he’d only been thinking of completing his mission. He hadn’t intended to start a war. “He brought a whole wing of dragons. Maybe two.”
Syla glanced up but not for long. Face intent, she set aside the venom extractor and grabbed the scalpel. All the magical droplets had been removed from the orb’s surface and the top of its stalk, but a couple of new ones—did the liquid seep up out of that fuzzy blue substrate?—were starting slowly upward, defying gravity to infuse the orb with magical nutrients or who knew what.
“Should I try…?” Vorik extended his sword toward the stalk, assuming the orb needed to be cut free. Might the magic of his blade be sufficient for the task?
“I wondered if that would work, but I’m considering a more delicate touch.” Syla nodded that he could try if he wanted.
Gingerly, Vorik tapped his sword tip to the crystal stem, not risking an attempt to slice the orb free until he tested it.
Silver white flashed, burning his eyes as a great jolt of power ran up his blade and into his arm. He couldn’t keep from dropping his sword as he stumbled away, his back slamming into a crystalline formation. Earlier, the gargoyle-bone blade hadn’t conducted magic, but this burst had been a lot more powerful. Blinking, he shook out his numb hand.
“Maybe you should carry on with your delicate touch.” Aware of more creatures nearby, Vorik picked up his sword again.
“I’m going to try to soothe it with my healing power while cutting it free.”
“Itneedssoothing.”
“All of the storm god’s creations do.”
“Tell me about it.”
Wreylith cruised over the canyon, but she was neither chasing anyone nor being chased. She landed on the rim opposite Syla and Vorik and scratched at the edge, her talons strong enough to rip rocks free. They fell through the barrier, clunking down on the far side of the laboratory. A creature thathad been wandering over there hissed loudly. Vorik hoped it had been crushed.
Wreylith’s golden eyes sharpened as she looked down. From her perspective, had the rocks disappeared?
She dove off the top of the cliff and toward the laboratory but encountered the invisible barrier. Her wings wobbled, then corrected as her belly bounced off.
With smoke wafting from her nostrils and her eyes glowing with irritation, she flew to the opposite side of the canyon, turned, and perched at the edge, peering down. Not more than twenty feet from where Syla and Vorik were, she tore more rocks away. A boulder the size of a cow slammed down onto a crystalline formation, breaking it and sending shards flying everywhere. Several hit the walls and flashed, exploding like holiday fireworks.
Syla lifted a protective arm as one struck five feet away. “She’ll kill us by accident.”
A yellow dragon from the Sixteen Talons flew toward Wreylith, interrupting her investigation of the barrier. Vorik recognized the rider and wished he could shout to wave him away. The red dragon wasn’t an ally of the Freeborn Faction, and his people had enough foes without picking a fight with her.
Wreylith abandoned her perch and flew to meet the oncoming threat. The two dragons collided, biting and scratching, but their flight took them out of Vorik’s view.
“I don’t know whether to be relieved she won’t crush us or worried for her.” Syla returned to her surgical maneuvering.
Wind whipped through the laboratory again. Syla cursed as it tugged at her first-aid kit, and some of her small tools skidded away.
As Vorik bent to catch them and pluck them up for her, the telepathic voice in the cloud spoke again.
Enemies have turned my children away from their purpose, and they would now invade the laboratory of the storm god.
“That’s a different message,” Syla said.
“Yes.” After the several repeats of the other words, Vorik had thought the apparition a mindless part of the security defenses the storm god had long ago left, but this indicated it had awareness of what was going on. “His children? Does he mean the dragons?”
“He did create them.” Syla accepted her tools and returned to work, using her sleeve—a hole singed in it, as she’d said—to wipe sweat from her forehead.
Scalpel in hand, she risked leaning close and resting her fingers on the orb. Vorik readied himself to catch her if it hurled her away. It flared a brighter silver, as if it was thinking about it. But he sensed magic flowing from Syla’s moon-mark and into her fingers and then the orb, even running down the stalk to its base and the substrate.
One of my children remains true. It will defend against the wayward ones and the uninvited.
A thunderous grinding came from the back wall of the canyon, and a hidden door in the red rock opened. Ahugehidden door.
A black dragon stomped out, its eyes glowing red, and it spread its wings. It looked like a bigger and even crabbier version of Ozlemar, and it glared up at the sky, at the dragons and riders engaging with each other, the vengeful Sixteen Talons descending upon the faction. Though she wore an expression of frustration, Atilya turned with determination to face Jhiton and the others. Blood would soon spatter the desert floor and the magical cactus flowers. If their potent scent had reached the dragons and riders flying about, it hadn’t done anything yet to change them from aggressive to amorous.
