Читать книгу Battle for Cymmera - Dani-Lyn Alexander - Страница 8

Ryleigh poked her head through the throne room door. Still no sign of Mia, and Max hadn’t returned. She’d already searched everywhere she could think of for Elijah, intent on harassing him until he gave her answers, but the sorcerer could be elusive when he chose.

No matter. She’d find out what was going on soon enough. Now that the Death Dealers had gone in search of Chayce, maybe the veil of secrecy Elijah and Mia had concocted would no longer be necessary. Assuming whatever was going on with Elijah and Mia had to do with the situation with Chayce, that is.

Her footfalls echoed back at her as she crossed the empty room. The huge chamber’s medieval feel, with its high domed ceilings, patterned stone floor, and the two thrones standing sentinel at its far end, had always frightened her a little. Maybe too stark a reminder of the enormous responsibility she now shouldered.

As she slid past her throne, her sword caught on the arm, and she took a step back and untangled it. She’d never get used to wearing the stupid thing everywhere she went. If not for Jackson’s insistence, it’d probably be stuffed under her bed beside the baseball bat she kept hidden there.

She pulled open a drawer on the side table behind her throne and rifled through the papers she’d stuffed in there in search of her leather appointment book. If she couldn’t find answers, may as well get some work done. It was either that or dwell on Jackson’s mission and the terror it brought. She pressed a hand against her heaving stomach. No. She couldn’t think about that. She had more immediate problems she might actually be able to do something about.

Several meetings had to be scheduled, and without writing them down, she’d never keep track of where she was supposed to be. Especially with her mind so jumbled with images of Jackson going up against Chayce.

She snatched the book, shoved the drawers shut, and turned to leave.

Ryleigh’s vision blurred. The air shimmered in the center of the throne room, and her ears popped.

She ripped her sword from its sheath even as the portal opened.

A seven-foot-tall beast built of solid muscle tore through the portal. A triple headed flail swung from one massive hand.

She braced for an attack.

The savage lurched to the side of the portal and ogled her. A line of thick drool slid down his chin.

A second savage barreled through the portal and lunged to the opposite side.

She squinted against the glint off his axe and fumbled for the rope beside her throne.

More beasts than men, with long, stringy, dark hair, full beards, and thick heavy brows that shadowed their empty black eyes, the savages stood sentinel on either side of the open portal.

She yanked the rope to summon help and prayed it would come in time.

Savages were vicious creatures but dumb and completely subservient to their leader. No doubt the real threat had yet to emerge.

She wasn’t about to stand there and wait for it. She slid to her left, sword at the ready.

The first savage kept pace, paralleling her movements.

Chayce Maynard emerged from the portal, his nearly black eyes rock hard. “Hello again, Ryleigh.”

A setup.

Chayce drew his sword. No sign of the boy who’d toyed with her during their last encounter remained in the man who stood before her.

“What do you want, Chayce?” She lifted her chin, stiffened her spine, in an effort to appear strong.

“Let’s not play games, Ryleigh. That time has passed. I don’t want anything from you except your death, so I can claim my kingdom.” He strode toward her.

The savages kept pace on either side of him.

She raised her sword and backed up. The back of her legs hit the throne. Trapped.

Chayce increased his pace.

She charged the savage on her left. If she could just skirt around him. She brought her sword around and aimed for his chest.

He stepped back, and she missed. He swung his flail and opened a gash across her right bicep.

Not too high a price for the better position. She spun and faced them. Her every instinct begged her to flee, but the door was too far away. She’d never make it.

The savages turned toward her and stopped. They looked at Chayce.

Chayce ascended the platform, sheathed his sword, and settled on Jackson’s throne. Elbows propped on the armrests, fingers steepled in front of him, he leered at her. “Kill her and dispose of her body.”

They rushed her.

She used the first savage’s momentum to plunge her sword through his gut. While he fell, she pulled the sword free and rounded on the second.

His fist landed hard in her stomach.

She doubled over as he raised the axe above his head.

He swung it down.

Ryleigh spun just in time. Wind from his swing a brutal reminder of the sheer strength these creatures possessed.

The axe hit the stone floor, cracked the block, and rebounded. The savage lifted it and swung again.

Ryleigh struggled to regain her footing as the savage she’d already stabbed lunged toward her. The clash of his flail against her sword as she blocked sent a shock wave through her arms, and she tightened her two-handed grip on the weapon.

The door screeched open. “What’s going—”

Elijah’s voice from the doorway brought a wave of relief.

“Mia, go. Now.” He raced to Ryleigh’s side. “A bit sooner than expected, I must say.” He stepped between Ryleigh and the savages, decapitated the first, rounded and engaged the other.

Ryleigh charged Chayce. She’d kill that arrogant bastard where he sat, on the very throne he’d betrayed his father and his brother to attain.

Chayce waved a hand, and a portal opened behind him. A smile crept across his face, and pure evil danced in his eyes.

More savages poured into the throne room. Too many for her and Elijah to take on alone. Most remained in place at Chayce’s sides. A few surged forward.

“Retreat,” Elijah ordered. “Go, Ryleigh.”

She backed toward the door, careful not to turn her back on the advancing savages.

Two more of them reached Elijah. He swung his sword in a blur, battling all three at once.

Careful to avoid Elijah’s weapon, she plunged her sword through the soft spot at the back of a savage’s head as Jackson had taught her.

He crumpled.

“Go,” Elijah screamed.

Footsteps pounded toward them.

“Now, Ryleigh.”

She braced herself. “I won’t leave you.”

The heavy door slammed closed. A savage shoved a long pole through the iron handles, effectively barring the way into the room.

Three more savages fell at Elijah’s feet.

Ryleigh backed toward the side wall.

A savage intercepted her. He swung his axe.

She hefted her sword and blocked the blow.

Another came at her with a flail.

She barely managed to block, but the flail dug into the back of her hand and loosened her grip.

The next blow ripped through her hand again.

Her sword clattered to the floor.

He heaved the axe back around toward her head.

She dove and rolled out of the way.

A stone in the wall behind her shattered under the blow. Sharp stone fragments pummeled her.

She had to get out of there, needed a weapon. She yanked a small knife from her boot, useless against the savages' thick skin, and fled toward the throne platform.

If she could remove Chayce, the attack would fall apart, and the savages would retreat.

She hoped.

Something heavy pounded the doors from the outside, the sound reverberating through weapons clashing and savages grunting as they fell at Elijah’s hand.

She leaped onto the platform.

Under the next blow, the doors splintered.

Chayce surged to his feet.

Ryleigh ducked behind her throne. She grabbed the flail from the wall behind Jackson’s throne, the same flail Chayce had used to torture him when he’d held him captive in Argonas.

Fitting.

She lunged and slammed the flail at Chayce’s head. She realized he was gone too late to check the swing. The spikes embedded in the seat's velvet padding.

Chayce strode through the chanting savages.

They parted, backing away from Elijah, who lay motionless on his back in the center of them.

Chayce unsheathed his sword. When he reached the prophet, he raised his sword.

“Nooo!” Ryleigh launched herself from the platform.

Chayce’s sword arced downward.

Elijah grabbed Ryleigh’s fallen sword and blocked the blow. He rolled and jumped to his feet.

Ryleigh ran toward Chayce’s back, swung the flail into the face of an oncoming savage without slowing. Another took his place, blocked Ryleigh’s advance, then forced her back.

With no choice but retreat, she jumped onto the platform and stood on Jackson’s throne. There had to be a way around them to reach Elijah.

One door shattered beneath the weight of their battering ram.

Savages grabbed Elijah’s arms from either side.

Chayce’s second blow found its mark straight through Elijah’s chest.

Blood bubbled from the prophet’s mouth as he stared at her. “Go.”

“Ryleigh.” Mia crouched behind Jackson’s throne, gesturing wildly for Ryleigh to follow her.

“Get out of here, Mia.” She jumped off the throne and started toward Elijah. She’d go through the savages if she had to.

Mia ran after her and grabbed her arm. “You have to come. Now.”

She pulled free. “I can’t leave Elijah.”

The door flew open and Cymmeran Guardsmen poured through.

“Chayce,” Ryleigh called.

He turned away from Elijah and faced her as savages attacked Cymmeran soldiers, trying desperately to hold them back.

“Leave him alone. It’s me you want.”

“You’re right, but I’ve learned to finish what I start.” He turned his back on her and lifted his sword again.

Mia grabbed her arm and tried to drag her away.

“No! Chayce!” Ryleigh shrugged free of her grip. She brought the flail back as she ran.

His sword plunged toward Elijah.

Ryleigh put every last ounce of her strength into the swing.

The blow tore through Chayce’s upper back and neck above his armor. Damn. She’d aimed for his head.

With a primal scream, he rounded on her. His sword ripped through her side.

Blood gushed down her hip. She backpedaled, expecting he’d follow.

He spun back toward Elijah.

She started after him.

Flames burst from Elijah’s body in every direction. They threw Chayce to the ground and drove back the closest of the savages.

Ryleigh ducked and covered her face against the wall of fire. Heat singed her face and arm.

Mia dragged her toward the corner behind the thrones. “Go. Now.”

“I won’t leave—”

“It’s too late.” Mia pushed her toward an opening Ryleigh hadn’t even known existed. “We have to go.”

“Elijah.”

“You can’t save him.”

Chayce rolled over, swatting the flames engulfing his shoulder and one side of his head.

“If we get him to the healer, maybe—”

“No.” Mia gripped her face in both hands. “No, Ryleigh. We can’t save him. He knew, Ryleigh. He knew he’d give his life to save you, to protect Cymmera.” She shook her. Hard. “We have to evacuate the castle. Don’t make his sacrifice have been for nothing.”

A portal opened and before he’d even regained his footing, Chayce escaped. Again.

The Cymmeran Guard gained the upper hand and another portal herded in more savages.

There was nothing left for her to do but watch her kingdom fall.

“Go.” She crawled into the tunnel behind Mia.

* * * *

Ophidian skimmed the icy surface of the long frozen lake. The sleek black dragon weaved through scattered mounds of snow and icebergs, keeping as close to the ground as possible, a phantom in the black night.

Jackson could see through the blackness as easily as Ophidian, and he tried to focus on the barren miles ahead of him. His black armor absorbed light, allowing him to blend with the night. Few, if any, inhabitants should be in this brutal part of Argonas. It would be better not to cross those who were strong enough to survive such a harsh habitat. Better to slip through unseen and make it to the mountains before daylight.

Jackson lay close to Ophidian’s back in an effort to keep warm. Even though Cymmerans could regulate their body temperature while in Cymmera and the human realm, they didn’t have as much control in Argonas.

At his side, Dakota kept pace, his dragon, Draco, moving in synchronization with Ophidian.

The other eighteen Death Dealers held a V formation in pairs behind Jackson and Dakota, sliding across the desolate landscape, shadows in the raging storm. With any luck at all, they’d reach the base of the mountains by first light and climb to the summit before night fell again.

Frigid wind pelted his face with ice crystals, coating his eyelashes, impeding his vision. He covered his face and blew into his hands to melt some of the ice. No use. His black leather gloves were encased in a thick coating of ice as well. They were going to have to stop. He held up a hand, and the Death Dealer team led their dragons toward a section of frozen lake.

Ophidian landed silently.

The dragons landed in a circle, blocking some wind. Their riders leaped to the ground and huddled in the center. Dragons emanated warmth, but Jackson didn’t dare allow the team to start a fire for fear of being discovered.

“I don’t understand why it’s so cold.” Dakota’s teeth chattered as he spoke. “This is nothing like training.” He took off his gloves, chipped snow from inside his sleeves, and pressed his hands against his dragon’s side.

Death Dealers trained for every eventuality, and they were forced to drop their temperatures and train in battle, but it wasn’t the same. In training, you could always hold back a little, keep yourself from being too uncomfortable, keep yourself from freezing to death.

Alec Ranger slapped the back of Dakota’s head. “Welcome to reality, newbie.”

Dakota, the newest Death Dealer, took the teasing in stride and shot Ranger a grin. “You’re shivering pretty bad too. Need me to come over there and keep you warm?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Ranger laughed.

Dakota was right. Ranger was shivering. And, unlike Dakota, Ranger wasn’t new to cold, or to suffering. He’d spent his fair share of time in the torture dungeons beneath Argonas.

Icy wind exploded through the dragon circle, screaming in his ears, whipping snow from the lake into a tornado. This level of cold was something completely different from anything Jackson had experienced before—even in Argonas. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up in a lame effort to shield himself from the biting wind.

“Hey.” Ranger stilled, squinting at the mountain in the distance. “Did you see that?”

“What?” Jackson hadn’t seen anything but swirling snow. He scanned the horizon in the direction Ranger indicated, but his vision was too limited by the storm. “I don’t—”

A light flashed, turning the driving snow a sickly shade of green.

“Seems like it came from the base of the mountain.” Jackson slid off one glove and tried to wipe the snow and ice from his face. Having a conversation in the gale-force wind while trying to keep the poisonous snow from getting into his mouth was pointless. They’d have to check out the light source, and it would be better to do so under the cover of darkness. “Let’s go.”

A new sense of urgency rode him as he leaped onto Ophidian’s back and kept his head tucked behind the dragon’s neck. With the Death Dealers in formation, Jackson headed toward the base of the mountains.

Ophidian glided low, silent as death. He undulated and turned, Jackson moving with him as if man and beast were one. In a sense, they were. The slim, black dragon increased his speed.

The others followed.

Thoughts of Ryleigh tried to creep into Jackson’s awareness, but he shoved them aside. She’d handle whatever she had to in Cymmera. Allowing her to fill his mind clouded his thinking. Of course, it had also saved his life. Images of Ryleigh had been the only thing that could have dragged him through those tunnels in Argonas.

A green flash lit the night.

He slowed Ophidian. Better to figure out what was going on before charging into a massacre. He guided Ophidian toward a small valley surrounded on three sides by mountains.

From the open side, which the frozen lake led directly into, came another flash of green light. Odd, the flashes weren’t bright, as you’d expect them to appear in contrast to such extreme darkness.

He brought Ophidian to rest on the far side of the closest mountain. Reluctant to leave the warmth the dragon emitted, he slid down and jogged toward the other Death Dealers.

“We’ll leave the dragons here. Only four of us will go in.”

Dakota moved to his side. Since he was Jackson’s partner, it went without saying he would accompany him.

Jackson gestured toward Ranger.

He and his partner, Vaughn, fell into step beside Jackson and Dakota as they started toward the valley where the weird flashes of light had originated.

The rest of the Death Dealers would remain with the dragons and wait for them to return or signal.

Keeping low and in the shadows of the jagged rocks protruding from the mountain, Jackson scrambled through thigh-deep snow.

Dull gray light had just touched the horizon, the closest Argonas came to a sunrise.

He stepped up his pace, confident the others would keep up. They had to round the side of the mountain before first light. Once daylight hit, it would be much harder to conceal themselves, their black armor too stark a contrast to the white snow. While they might be mistaken for rocks from a distance if they remained perfectly still, the first sign of movement would be a dead giveaway of their intrusion.

Jackson reached a small peak and searched for a grip on an ice-covered boulder. His hands slid off, and he dug his feet deeper into the snow. Once his footing was more secure, he again tried to find a hold on the slick rock so he could pull himself up enough to peek over.

A roar shook the dawn.

His feet slid, belly flopping him into the snow. He gritted his teeth, keeping his lips firmly pressed together, hoping the others remembered to do the same. The last thing he needed were sick soldiers because they swallowed the rancid snow.

Rock and ice pelted his back and head. Thankfully, his body armor and helmet shielded him for the most part. When the bombardment ended, he lifted his head and checked his men.

A succession of thumbs up signals indicated they were fine.

Jackson returned to his climb, trying to wedge his numb feet between ice-coated rocks, sticks, and trees. When he once again reached the rock formation at the top of the small rise, he pulled the collar of his sweatshirt from beneath his breastplate and used it to cover his mouth. Making sure he breathed down into the sweatshirt to avoid a visible vapor plume, he peeked around the edge of the top boulder.

Men, their ankles chained to thick spikes driven deep into the ice, used pick axes to chip away at one side of the mountain.

Savages patrolled the perimeter of the manmade clearing.

Green light flashed from a cave the enslaved men were enlarging.

Jackson peered back at his men. He frowned and shook his head once to indicate he didn’t understand what was going on. He pointed at Ranger.

Dakota and Vaughn moved aside to give Ranger room to pass.

When Ranger reached the peak, Jackson slid over to allow him the best vantage point.

Ranger peered over the edge of the boulder and frowned. After watching for a while, he turned back to Jackson and pointed toward a small rock formation.

Jackson followed him, sliding a little way down the mountain toward the shelter of the rocks.

Another roar ripped through the silence of the gray morning.

Debris pummeled them, and the four men ducked beneath protruding rocks for cover.

Whatever was going on, they had to figure it out quickly and decide whether to intervene. They’d already lost the cover of darkness and couldn’t afford to wait much longer. If they did, they’d have to wait until dark again. Perhaps they could make it to the peak of the great mountain and back before then.

Jackson leaned out from beneath their improvised shelter and stared up at the largest mountain in the chain, the top of which was cut off by thick gray clouds. There was no way they’d make it up there and back before dark without the dragons. With no trail leading to the summit, it would take them forever to climb to the top.

And Elijah had specifically said to leave the dragons behind.

A rock bounced over the edge and hit the side of his head. His helmet only absorbed part of the blow, and he ducked back and pressed his ice-coated glove against his temple. It didn’t relieve the throbbing. He tried to ignore the pain. The injury would heal soon enough on its own.

When the rubble stopped falling, Jackson leaned close to the other Death Dealers and pitched his voice low. “What do you think?”

Ranger shook his head. “They seem to be prisoners, which means we’re going to have to free them.”

Jackson bit back a sigh. Of course, they were. The only question was whether to do it now or wait until they returned. He nodded and returned to his perch above the valley.

None of the prisoners appeared to be in pain. They all wore heavy coats and boots and didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger.

They’d head to the summit in search of Chayce. They couldn’t afford to take a chance of losing him if he was hiding up there. Once they accomplished their mission, they’d return and free the prisoners.

Who knew? If they eliminated Chayce, the savages might very well take off, leaving the prisoners unprotected. Then they could simply release them without a fight.

He started to back away slowly.

A man emerged from the cave, his long, dark robe and hood cloaking his features.

Jackson froze.

A flash of green from the mouth of the cavern backlit the stooped figure.

He slid backward, careful to move slow enough not to draw attention, keeping his gaze firmly riveted on the man.

He jerked his head up, and the hood fell back, revealing Thaddeus's shriveled features. The sorcerer’s gaze shot straight to Jackson.

Jackson scrambled back, no longer worried about stealth.

Thaddeus was Chayce’s prophet, as well as one of the strongest sorcerer’s in existence. Whether or not he had foreseen Jackson’s arrival, he had no idea, but Thaddeus and Chayce had been inseparable since Chayce had taken over Argonas. So if Thaddeus was there, Chayce was too.

The mountain rumbled beneath Jackson’s feet. They had to get out of there. Now. He whistled once as they slid, staggered, and tumbled away from the peak. A giant chasm exploded open in front of them. Jackson skidded and threw his weight backward to stop himself from flying over the edge and into the crashing waves and ice hundreds of feet below.

Ranger tumbled over.

Lunging onto his stomach, Jackson caught Ranger’s arm. He tried to dig his feet into the snow for leverage.

Ranger clutched Jackson’s wrist with one hand and his sleeve with the other. The wind whipped him wildly, battering him against the jagged rocks.

Jackson slid closer to the quaking edge. He reached behind him, desperate to grab anything to stop them from falling. His icy grip on Ranger slipped. He couldn’t hold on to him. With his upper body hanging over the edge, he snatched the shoulder strap of Ranger’s breastplate.

A heavy weight fell on Jackson’s back.

“Hold on,” Vaughn yelled over the screaming wind.

From the other side, Dakota gripped the sword he’d plunged into the ground and seized Ranger’s wrist.

The three of them lurched backward, pulling Ranger toward them.

Blood poured from a gash on Ranger’s forehead, freezing as it ran down the side of his face. When he got one knee on the edge, he pushed himself over, then rolled onto his back, breathing hard.

At least he was breathing.

As debris rained on them, Jackson knelt at his side, ripped off his glove, and pressed his hand to the head wound. He’d heal it enough for Ranger to make the trip back to Cymmera, but they had to get out of there.

“We have to go.” Dakota slid his sword into its sheath and crouched beside Jackson. “Is he all right?”

“Yeah. Come on.” Jackson stood and held out a hand to Ranger.

Something struck his back, driving him to his knees.

He spun, trying to cover Ranger and gain his feet.

A savage stood at the top of the rock they’d used for cover, a boulder held over his head. Roaring, he hurled the boulder at them.

Vaughn threw himself at Jackson, and the two tumbled toward the crumbling cliff.

Jackson yanked the knife from his boot and slammed it into the ice, halting their forward motion as the boulder rolled past them and over the edge. Breathing hard, cursing the condensation that would give away their position, he pulled himself up and sat.

The ground behind them gave way, plummeted through the thick layer of ice, and shattered it into chunks. He and Vaughn knelt on a small island suspended on a thin post of land high above an angry sea.

Dakota and Ranger had separated and each balanced precariously on their own islands.

With a loud crack, the land beneath Jackson and Vaughn gave way. Jackson leaped toward a more solid stretch of mountain he had no real hope of reaching.

Ophidian flew beneath him.

He crashed onto the dragon’s back, knocking the wind from his lungs. He reached over his head, grabbed one of the spikes protruding from Ophidian’s back, and turned over to search for Vaughn.

Ophidian dove and caught Vaughn seconds before he would have hit the waves hurling slabs of ice into the remaining pedestals.

Dakota and Ranger’s dragons landed just long enough for them to climb on as their island toppled.

The rest of the Death Dealer team flew into formation behind Jackson.

When Vaughn’s dragon paralleled Ophidian, Vaughn leaped onto his back.

The quake intensified as the Death Dealers crested the peak and dove toward the valley. Whatever Thaddeus was doing down there, it was time to end it.

The cave entrance stood empty, Thaddeus nowhere to be found.

Accustomed to the weather, the savages ran full speed down the mountain, plowing deep furrows through the snow.

The prisoners were already using their axes to free each other.

The Death Dealers could see to them after they’d gotten Thaddeus, and with any luck at all, found Chayce there with him.

Jackson and his men raced toward the cave entrance.

An explosion shattered the entire side of the mountain, propelling fragments of rocks, trees, and earth toward the prisoners and the Death Dealers.