light flashed before them, blinding and intense, the colors of the rainbows mixed and hued with bloody rage and killing fury.
“Dare to take another Sorceress from this land, do you! I think not!” The serrated voice of Shadow Hell echoed through the cavern and sent a chill of trepidation racing up their spines.
To say they were now facing death was perhaps an understatement. There was no magick left to defend themselves. There was no sword close enough even should their magick miraculously appear.
Rhydan nudged at his brother only to hear the wearied sigh that slipped past Torran’s lips. “Aye, I feel his rage licking at my flesh, brother. I prefer not to face my death if you do not mind. I much prefer to die as blind as I am weak.”
Garron, the Sentinel Dragon, paced closer, steam rising from his nostrils, his black eyes reflecting his inner rage in pinpoints of bloodied red as Torran dared to glance through the veil of his lashes.
He was easily eight feet tall or better, his scales leathery and appearing to flicker with steam and flames. Rhydan near shuddered at the thought of the agony this dragon could inflict before he allowed them to die.
“The Queen Amoria and her child, heir to the throne of Sellane.” His voice was like an echo from Shadow Hell reaching from the deep to rumble about the stone walls of the cavern. “I would know now where they are held.”
Torran lowered his arm. “How I prayed to the gods that somehow Astra was wrong and they had not been taken.” He could feel the sadness, the aching regret that settled in his soul at the knowledge of the two revered Sorceresses’ possible fate. Had dark magick taken them, then they would never return as they were before they were taken. “This was not by our hand, dragon. At no time did we reach out to harm those of this land.”
Steam hissed from nostrils that flared in rage and disbelief. “Say you this when two of your own warriors were there when she was attacked, prior to her kidnapping? When the Secular’s blade found her vulnerable flesh and pierced it?” the dragon snapped, huge teeth, sharp and foreboding making a sound that near had him flinching in fear that threatened to unman him.
Even Wizards knew the power of such a being whose magick was enough that they could call upon this fierce form and maintain it with such consistent power.
“Was not by our order, dragon.” Torran didn’t bother to sit up. He’d prefer—should he die undefended, as weak or perhaps weaker than the Griffon babe that had slept so close—to show his contempt at his demise by remaining just where he lay.
Apparently relaxed and without fear.
But that didn’t stop his flinch as flames expelled from the dragon’s mouth, washing over their heads with a heat that kissed their flesh even from that bit of distance.
What manner of magick was this dragon that he could call even the flames of Shadow Hell to do his bidding?
“I was tasked to protect this ruling house.” The dragon paced closer, his rage causing the scales that layered his body to rustle, to slide against each other as the magick appeared to gather just beneath them. “Some being has taken her from me, Wizard, and I would know the part you play in this.”
“Nay, we played no part in this, Garron.” Rhydan lifted his hands in denial of the accusation. “We would not have taken your queen, nor your princess, and we would have never allowed any other to do so if we had known of it.”
Garron’s nostrils flared again before a dragony smile of such enraged contempt curved his leathery lips. “You allowed many to believe you were here to conquer this land,” he suggested with whispery threads of magick rasping his tone. “You chose to have others believe you intended to Join with the Guardian of these lands, the Princess Marina. This was an untruth, was it not, Wizards? You knew all along who your Consortress was.”
They felt it then, too late to slam their shields down to protect
“Dare to take another Sorceress from this land, do you! I think not!” The serrated voice of Shadow Hell echoed through the cavern and sent a chill of trepidation racing up their spines.
To say they were now facing death was perhaps an understatement. There was no magick left to defend themselves. There was no sword close enough even should their magick miraculously appear.
Rhydan nudged at his brother only to hear the wearied sigh that slipped past Torran’s lips. “Aye, I feel his rage licking at my flesh, brother. I prefer not to face my death if you do not mind. I much prefer to die as blind as I am weak.”
Garron, the Sentinel Dragon, paced closer, steam rising from his nostrils, his black eyes reflecting his inner rage in pinpoints of bloodied red as Torran dared to glance through the veil of his lashes.
He was easily eight feet tall or better, his scales leathery and appearing to flicker with steam and flames. Rhydan near shuddered at the thought of the agony this dragon could inflict before he allowed them to die.
“The Queen Amoria and her child, heir to the throne of Sellane.” His voice was like an echo from Shadow Hell reaching from the deep to rumble about the stone walls of the cavern. “I would know now where they are held.”
Torran lowered his arm. “How I prayed to the gods that somehow Astra was wrong and they had not been taken.” He could feel the sadness, the aching regret that settled in his soul at the knowledge of the two revered Sorceresses’ possible fate. Had dark magick taken them, then they would never return as they were before they were taken. “This was not by our hand, dragon. At no time did we reach out to harm those of this land.”
Steam hissed from nostrils that flared in rage and disbelief. “Say you this when two of your own warriors were there when she was attacked, prior to her kidnapping? When the Secular’s blade found her vulnerable flesh and pierced it?” the dragon snapped, huge teeth, sharp and foreboding making a sound that near had him flinching in fear that threatened to unman him.
Even Wizards knew the power of such a being whose magick was enough that they could call upon this fierce form and maintain it with such consistent power.
“Was not by our order, dragon.” Torran didn’t bother to sit up. He’d prefer—should he die undefended, as weak or perhaps weaker than the Griffon babe that had slept so close—to show his contempt at his demise by remaining just where he lay.
Apparently relaxed and without fear.
But that didn’t stop his flinch as flames expelled from the dragon’s mouth, washing over their heads with a heat that kissed their flesh even from that bit of distance.
What manner of magick was this dragon that he could call even the flames of Shadow Hell to do his bidding?
“I was tasked to protect this ruling house.” The dragon paced closer, his rage causing the scales that layered his body to rustle, to slide against each other as the magick appeared to gather just beneath them. “Some being has taken her from me, Wizard, and I would know the part you play in this.”
“Nay, we played no part in this, Garron.” Rhydan lifted his hands in denial of the accusation. “We would not have taken your queen, nor your princess, and we would have never allowed any other to do so if we had known of it.”
Garron’s nostrils flared again before a dragony smile of such enraged contempt curved his leathery lips. “You allowed many to believe you were here to conquer this land,” he suggested with whispery threads of magick rasping his tone. “You chose to have others believe you intended to Join with the Guardian of these lands, the Princess Marina. This was an untruth, was it not, Wizards? You knew all along who your Consortress was.”
They felt it then, too late to slam their shields down to protect