Destruction's Ascent, page 33
part #3 of Dragon Ridden Chronicles Series
The ropes loosened a little more. She was almost through. It wouldn't be long now.
Ilith, get ready, she told the other dragon.
There was a rustle of wings in response.
"I'd tell you there's nothing to fear," Grimsly continued, his eyes large and thoughtful behind his glasses. "But I'd be lying. This will be very painful, but at the end, it will rid you of the parasite and allow you to go to your ancestors pure of form." He seemed regretful about the pain he was about to cause. A monster with a heart. How sweet.
Tate almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
"Is that how you justified killing these children?" she asked, her voice mocking. "That you're saving them?" She lifted her head and gave him a scornful look. "You're so stupid that you don't even know you're the problem. This world doesn't need to be purified of the Creator's leftovers. It's people like you who need to be purged, corrupting those around you by turning their heads with false promises." Tate's eyes narrowed, the words falling from her mouth before she could stop them. "You might think you're the Savior in this scenario. You're not. You wouldn't even be fit to serve the Creators. You're just a stupid man playing in waters above your head."
Grimsly's face turned colder and colder with every word she spoke. A banked rage began building in his eyes. He didn't say anything as his hand dropped out of view.
The ropes finally came loose. Tate held herself still, waiting for a single moment where his focus wavered.
That moment didn't come. Instead, sharp pain buried itself in Tate's chest and Grimsly gave her a triumphant look as he released the dagger he'd put there. A roar shook the chamber.
The wound spread fire and ice throughout her body, leaving Tate struggling for breath. Having a blade stuck in her was not how she’d anticipated things happening. Somehow though, she'd kept her hands by her side, not reaching up to pull the blade out, despite the instinct to do so. She wasn't dead, and despite appearances, the blade was actually applying pressure against the wound. Removing it would remove the obstruction and let her blood rush out.
Despite knowing this, it was hard to resist. She could feel her life draining from her, sucked down by whatever this circle was and the symbols that stung her skin.
"I know this is the parasite talking." Grimsly's voice was conversational as Tate fought for breath. "I shouldn't blame you. A proper hero wouldn't blame you, but somehow I just find you so irritating."
Tate gasped, her mouth bubbling with blood, finding Grimsly’s remarks oddly humorous. He found her irritating. Then, at least she died as she lived—aggravating the fuck out of someone.
Her head pressed into the stone, her strength fading until she couldn't lift it anymore. There was a thunder of sound all around her. She couldn't tell what it was from. Perhaps the circle?
No, it couldn't be. This sounded different, more devastating, a physical expression of someone whose world had been torn from them.
"It's happening," an excited voice said from behind Grimsly.
He lifted his head, some of the befuddled scholar fading from his face, leaving behind anticipation. "You must be more powerful than I'd given you credit for. I thought we'd need the girl's sacrifice as well, for the seal to break."
Tate struggled to stay present and aware, knowing that receding into the riptide might be the last thing she ever did. On the edge of her lips were the words asking what he was talking about, but she lacked the strength to utter them.
Grimsly backed up, circling the altar as his guardians surrounded him. Keel, Tate noted, stayed on the perimeter, his expression half-yearning, half-horror, as if he didn't know what emotion to feel.
It seemed like they'd forgotten about Daisy in the excitement of whatever was happening.
It took three tries, but Tate managed to say her name. "Daisy."
Daisy's scared gaze, her eyes red and puffy, turned toward Tate. More tears welled up. "Tate, I'm so sorry."
Tate gave her a barely-there smile and pushed the slim blade over to her. She mouthed 'look.'
Confusion swam in Daisy's face before she looked down, realization dawning on her face.
"Take it," Tate rasped. "Get loose. Then run."
"What about you?" Daisy asked.
"Just run." Tate didn't bother telling her it was too late for her. She wasn't going anywhere with this dagger in her chest. Even if the wound wasn't mortal, the blood pouring from her would draw every nasty creature in these tunnels down on them.
The thrumming buzz was back. Intensified this time until Tate's skin practically quivered with the force of it.
The roaring faded, replaced by a sound so sharp and high it sounded like screaming, like that of a thousand voices raised in agony.
The power crested, building and building until it felt like Tate's head would explode from the pressure.
There was a crack, as though the world split in two. The very air seemed to have parted, revealing a long tear as a being formed in the midst of it. A body slowly solidified—a man crouched in a fetal position on the floor within the spell circle.
"He comes," Grimsly breathed, exaltation and adoration in his voice.
Tate twisted her head, noting the man on the ground, naked as the day he was born, his hair a shaggy mass around his head. He shook and shivered, his breath leaving him in gasps.
"Help him, you fools," Grimsly barked. The guardians rushed forward, one of them shrugging out of their robe to drape it over the man.
Olar advanced several steps, wonder on his face at the sight of the stranger. Keel lingered on the edge of the circle, his face shocked as he took in the events.
No one noticed as Daisy freed herself, or as the girl dragged Tate off the altar. They were all too focused on the newcomer, a person at once familiar and strange to Tate.
There was a sense of ‘knowing’ within her, communicated by whatever symbols they had written on her. It told her that the person they'd awoken was powerful. But, underneath that power was hunger—a gaping void that nothing in this world could ever fill. It would grow and grow until it consumed everything and everyone, never once being sated.
"I don't think they're going to be happy with that they've woken," Tate said, her focus wavering.
"Well, it did need the deaths of several people to live," Daisy said. "They have only themselves to blame when it kills them."
They reached the edge of the circle, Tate dragging at Daisy's arms.
Keel came out of his enchantment to notice their escape, his eyes going wide. To Tate's surprise, he didn't sound the alarm.
Daisy's strength gave out, and Tate sank to her knees without the girl to prop her up.
"Come on, we're almost there," Daisy swore, dragging at Tate's arms.
Tate let out a chuckle. Maybe almost out of the circle, but then they had to go up all those steps, and traverse all those halls, and fight a monster before jumping through the mirror. They had a long way to go to safety.
Daisy stepped up and out of the circle, Tate dragged behind her when she jerked to a stop. Whatever barrier had been at the cells seemed to be here too. But only Tate was affected.
"Why isn't this working?" Daisy asked, pulling ineffectually at Tate's arms.
"Bound by blood and power," Tate whispered. "Not getting out until it's done.
Daisy looked back at where the stranger was now standing, taking in his surroundings with an analytical expression.
"Isn't that what they wanted?" she asked.
Tate's thoughts were muddled as she glanced back at their captors. "Not all of it."
There was a scream from a guardian as the stranger put his hand through his chest, and then withdrew it, fingers bloody.
The rest of the guardians scattered and Grimsly fell to his knees before his master, his hands held up in supplication. "My Savior, what have we done to offend you?"
There was little emotion on the stranger's face as he looked around him. "Nothing. You're simply a means to an end. I thank you for waking me, but you can best serve me now by powering my war machine."
Grimsly backed away, horror on his face. "This was not what was promised."
The stranger cocked his head, the gesture oddly amused. "You have innocent blood on your hands. I’m not obligated to keep my promise to one such as you."
He didn't wait for a response, his hand flashing out, a weird blue glow along the edges as it cut across Grimsly's neck. Daisy screamed as the guardian's head detached and his body slumped to the ground. His blood pooled under him, the red liquid appearing alive as it twisted and turned, creeping in slow increments to mirror the symbols under it.
Tate's thoughts were distant and wrapped in cotton as she noticed her blood was doing the same thing.
The chamber shook and pitched around her as the strange man stalked around the circle, hunting down guardians and the Order's men one by one. Each death fed the trembling of the earth, turning it into a heaving mass of chaos. Somehow the stranger stayed upright throughout, the same expressionless mask on his face the entire time.
"Saviors preserve us," Daisy gasped behind Tate, reminding her of the other girl.
"Run, Daisy. Night and the others should be on their way here," Tate told her, her eyes sliding closed as exhaustion claimed her, torpor threatening to pull her into its embrace. "I had them take the long way."
The stranger's attention turned to them, his face curious as he prowled in their direction. Daisy stumbled back, but not before pressing something into Tate's hands. Fear finally made the girl see sense, Tate thought. She couldn't see Keel and didn't know where he'd gone. He'd probably run at the first sign that things weren't going to plan. Seemed self-preservation was strong in him. It made sense given the station he'd achieved. Political animals always seemed to know when to save their own skin before something swallowed them whole.
The thoughts, pointless as they were given the situation, provided a welcome distraction from the slow march of death she could see advancing on her. The stranger watched Daisy flee before fixing his gaze on Tate. His eyes were a pale gray, the color of ice against the northern sea.
He opened his mouth and a lilting, strange language flowed out, one that Tate knew as well as she did her own face. It was the language she'd spoken when Jost first picked her up, the one no one recognized because its speakers had been dead for thousands of years.
"Tatum Allegra Winters, I never thought to see you again," he said as he reached down, grabbing her by the throat and dangling her in front of him with little effort. "We were told you were dead."
"Surprise," Tate rasped. Unlike the language, there was little she recognized in this person. He wasn't familiar, and if she had passed him on the street she probably wouldn't have looked twice except to note he seemed arrogant and irritating.
His lips pursed as he tilted his head in thought. "I see he lied to us. I suppose I should have seen that coming, given your history."
Tate was tempted to ask who he was talking about, but she didn't want answers from this person—not when blood covered his hands all the way to his forearms and people lay like broken dolls behind him. As much as she wanted to know her past, she wouldn't defile it by hearing it from his lips.
"I see you still have your little albatross," he said, taking one arm and lifting it to where he could see the dragon, draped across her arm, wings dragging behind her listlessly and her scales dull, lacking their normal vibrancy. "But, not for long it seems."
Tate could barely feel the little dragon anymore. The power drain still sucked at them, Ilith bearing the brunt. It felt like something invisible was attached, drawing their life's essence out as inexorably as one sucked liquid up a straw. They got weaker and weaker the more that thing pulled at them.
Grimsly hadn't been lying when he said he'd rid her of the dragon. Tate got the sense if this continued much longer, Ilith would fade, her life and magic drained by this circle and this stranger. Tate would no doubt die shortly after, her life feeding the symbols as well, but not before Ilith.
"They did a better job than I had given them credit for," he said, the robe the guardian had given him swirling as he swung her around by the neck to see the dead behind him, the floor painted with bloody symbols. "Had I known it was you tied to this working, I might have let them live. I wonder, did they know the prize they had in hand or was it a fortuitous twist of fate?"
Tate didn't answer. Darkness pressed in from all sides and it was all she could do to stay conscious.
He gave a careless shrug. "I guess it doesn't really matter now. They're dead, and when you join them, my war machine will wake and I will finish righting this world's path."
Ilith, get ready, Tate thought.
Ilith came to her, fighting through the pain and weakness, her own and Tate's, pouring everything she had down the bond.
The stranger watched her, his gaze unreadable. "I'm sorry it has to end like this. I'd always imagined currying your favor, but I guess this was just the way it has to be."
Now.
Heat sparked through Tate, giving her a brief window of opportunity. Fire flared along her fingertips, her hand swinging up as if on its own, silver wreathing her hand as she buried the dagger Daisy had given to her in the stranger's neck.
He dropped her, roaring and staggering back on one foot with his hand clamped to his neck. Fury flared in his eyes as he pulled out the blade, made orange and glowing from the heat Tate had pumped into it.
The silver gauntlet her rhombus tattoo had formed faded back into her skin as she sank to the ground, her energy spent. She had the vague thought that she wished the relic had shown itself sooner. Maybe it could have prevented the dagger in her chest, but perhaps it had needed a greater trigger than what had been supplied.
He dropped the dagger to the ground, his neck a mess of blood and the odor of burned flesh reaching Tate even from here.
Before he could take a step toward her, a dark blur tackled him, one covered in scales, its body lithe and lean as Ryu’s dragon bit down hard on his shoulder.
He lives, Ilith said in a relieved voice.
Ryu's dragon whipped its head back and forth, its claws burying in the stranger's shoulder. A cry escaped the dragon as the stranger's hands glowed with that blue light. The dragon released it and hopped back, placing itself between the man and Tate.
Blood spattered the ground beneath Ryu's dragon. The wound the man had given him wasn’t fatal, but it was painful.
The dragon's tail whipped back and forth as it roared, and the stranger covered his neck with one hand, blood coursing down in sluggish rivulets from the wounds inflicted by the dragon.
"Isn't this a surprise," he said with a sneer, his eyes flicking behind them.
Ryu wasn't the only one to escape his cage. Dewdrop let out a scream that echoed in the loud chamber, sending several of the Order's men to their knees as Pax pounced on one, lifting a blood-stained face to let out a baby roar.
One that was echoed from above.
"Night," Tate said with a faint smile. He'd made it.
She turned her head as much as she could to see Night, Blade and many others spilling from above, cutting a swathe through those who'd tried to flee and those who thought to kill the witnesses.
"Well, well, looks like you aren't alone this time," the stranger told her, his eyes focused on the people behind them. "I guess we'll have to continue this at a different time."
"Ryu," Tate warned.
The dragon's tail flicked, showing he'd heard her, and his muscles bunched to send him sailing across the space just seconds too late. The stranger stepped back, brought his hands together hard, and created a clap of sound that shook the room, sending pain coursing up Tate's back.
Ryu caught the worst of it, and by the time he'd recovered, the man had disappeared by some means that she didn't see.
The dragon grumbled, nosing around the ground as he tried to find where the man had gone. He nudged one of the bodies, his tongue flicking out to taste blood. He drew back and shook his head, hard, the taste obviously not agreeing with him.
"Leave that alone," Tate told him. "You don't know where it’s been."
The dragon let out a strange warble before padding over to her. She gave him a weak smile as he crouched next to her, his great head swinging to snuffle gently at her. She'd have liked to touch his snout, caress his chin, see if the scales were supple and soft or hard and unyielding, but weakness made that impossible.
"You're beautiful," she told him.
He was too. His form was built for speed, all graceful lines, almost delicate like a cat's. Horns curled back from his head, giving him a regal appearance. His jaw was big enough that he would be able to swallow her in one gulp.
He lowered his snout and nudged her once. His eyes were as big as her head, his pupil a small slit, and there was a nictitating membrane that opened and closed so fast Tate wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not.
A mournful sound issued from his throat.
The dragon regarded her with a gaze that seemed to have the weight of eons behind it. He wasn't old as Thora, or probably even Ilith, but Tate could see time had tested him, made him into what he was now. Beautiful and fierce.
One clawed foot came up and hovered over Tate as her consciousness started to slide away. The world's problems didn’t seem as important as they once had.
Fire pierced her chest and a pained sound escaped her as the dragon ripped the dagger out of her. He lifted a paw and bit down hard before holding it over her wound.
If Tate could have spoken, she would have asked him what he was doing. No, she would have bopped him on the nose and told him “bad dragon”. As it was, she was forced to watch as his blood dripped into her open wound.
The cold's grip lessened as the fire she'd thought had gone out returned, hotter than before. Suddenly it was like liquid lava coursed through her veins, burning the cold out and leaving Tate and Ilith shaking in its wake.
She lost consciousness for a short time before Ryu was beside her again, the scent of the sea before a thunderstorm wrapping around her, as hard arms locked her to his chest and he rocked back and forth, cradling her.
