Page 129 of Red Dragon
The bed—the weapons platform—thrummed with power that reverberated through Syla.
Teyla and Fel must have felt something too because they backed away, eyeing it warily.
Deeper in the canyon, more rocks tumbled free as Wreylith gouged another chunk from the rim. For the first time, as boulders crashed down the wall to hit the floor, a beam of unadulterated sunlight flowed in. With it came the sounds of dragons roaring, riders shouting, and swords clashing—the battle above.
Wreylith, talons gripping the canyon rim, lowered her neck far enough to peer through the hole in the still-translucent-but-damaged barrier.
The red-eyed black dragon spun away from Vorik to look at this new intruder. It roared. An instant before it flew toward Wreylith, Vorik ran up its waving tail and jumped onto its back. The black dragon shook itself, trying to knock him free, but it kept going toward Wreylith.
Did she see the threat? She’d withdrawn her head to claw at the edges of the barrier, trying to widen the hole so she could fit through. Wings folded to her body, she dropped into the laboratory where she was vulnerable to the oncoming dragon.
“Look out!” Syla cried as Vorik, kneeling atop the black dragon’s back, drove his sword into its neck.
Power surged within the weapons platform, and two glowing silver balls of energy shot out from the hollow tops of thecolumns. Instead of going straight up, they hooked sideways and blasted toward the black dragon, the creature screeching when Vorik’s sword plunged into it. It shook like a dog and knocked him flying, but the silver balls smashed into its flank, and magical energy and light enveloped it.
The attacks derailed the dragon’s flight toward Wreylith, and it struck the wall instead. She lifted her talons and slashed at their foe, then bit for its neck.
An angry roar came from the center of the laboratory, not from a dragon but from the apparition of the storm god. Great power radiated from that cloud of ugly energy. Darkness pushed out the beam of sunlight, and a horizontal line of circular orifices opened on the rock walls on both sides of the laboratory. Black balls of energy similar to the silver ones that the weapons platform had emitted shot out. Dozens of them.
Several slammed into Wreylith, and she screeched in sheer pain and pitched to the ground.
“No!” Syla cried.
The other balls blasted through the barrier, knocking holes into it as they flew upward. Sunlight streamed through the holes, but it didn’t help anything. Those destructive balls of energy flew toward the dragons and riders who’d been too lost in their own battle to notice Wreylith finding a way into the laboratory.
Unlike cannonballs that could only fly along their trajectory, the storm god’s defenses twisted and turned to follow their targets. Several struck dragons. One slammed into the chest of a faction rider. Yet another ball shot across the laboratory to blast Wreylith.
“No!” Syla shouted again, trying to figure out how to make the marble weapons platform fire again.
With nothing targeting the black dragon, it recovered and leaped for the wounded Wreylith. Too dazed by the storm god’s projectiles to recover in time, she only managed to get one wingup, a feeble defense from the usually mighty dragon. Her foe lowered its jaws, fangs ready to crush her neck.
The columns thrummed under Syla’s touch, and she willed the gods’ magic to come to the defense of Wreylith, to kill the cursed black dragon.
This time, not two buttensilver balls of energy shot out. They sapped her of her strength, but she didn’t care. One after the other, they slammed into the black dragon with tremendous power.
Their enemy flew away from Wreylith, silver energy crackling all over its black scales. Tail rigid and its back arching unnaturally, the storm god’s creation screeched in pain until it crashed to the floor and didn’t move again. The red glow of its eyes disappeared in death.
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As Syla stoodbetween the columns on the marble structure, bathed in silver light and somehow shooting great balls of pure magical energy from it, Vorik made sure the black dragon was indeed dead, then headed toward her. On the way, he skirted Wreylith, who was on her feet again but panting and recovering from the ordeal. She exuded irritation and would likely kill anything—or anyone—that wandered close.
Syla continued commanding energy balls from… Teyla had called it aweapons platform,hadn’t she? They slammed into the rock walls, hurling shards everywhere as they destroyed the cannon-like weapons that had appeared there, also blasting balls of energy. Vorik approved.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted someone in black half-falling and half-climbing down the canyon wall to enter the laboratory—what remained of it. The barrier appeared to be down now, and sunlight shone upon everything.
“Wise,” Vorik called softly, recognizing his lieutenant.
Judging by his wobbly landing, Wise was injured, but when he spun and spotted Vorik, relief made him smile.
“Sir, you’re alive!”
“Yes.” Vorik gripped the lieutenant to steady him, and blood dampened his hand.
A sword slash had opened Wise’s tunic—and his abdomen.
“One of those things knocked me off Tonasketal.” Wise waved toward the sky, but then spotted Syla and gaped. “Isshedoing that? Sending those things? One killed Vagnoran.”
“She’s casting the silver ones. The black ones are the storm god’s defenses.”
