Sky Warriors: Poleuthan's Thief (Sky Warriors Saga Book 1) (18 page)

She gasped as a heavy convulsion thrust the already violent air around them. She opened her eyes and gazed up, past the white fur-like feathers that encircled her to Showl’s contorted snarl high above. At the edge of her vision his wings beat against the heavy air, quickly raising them above the ground and through the violent storm.

As she looked back, she searched for Richards figure in the foul blizzard but could only make out the small sources of light as they quickly approached the fire of the demolished blacksmith’s home. A furious roar echoed out behind them quickly followed by the awkward beating of another pair of wings, one injured.

“Angeline. No matter what, do not fear,” commanded a deep and thundering voice above her head.

She shuddered shocked as she looked up wide-eyed to Showl’s face, utterly amazed words had just come out of his fanged mouth. One large golden eye stared down at her, waiting for her to react.

She swallowed hard and nodded as his eye focused on her. She grabbed hold of a bunch of feathers and tucked her head down as the wind continued to howl and the cold snow began to sting at her face. He returned his gaze ahead, his body rocking up through the currents, the sound of his wings resonating through the air even over the harsh storm as he stoked them with hastened force.

Ange felt his paw tighten around her, as she gazed around she swallowed nervously as she studied one of his long black talons, it was easily longer than her entire height and probably an extra two feet.

She frowned and looked away, hugging her burden closer to her chest, wondering what it was she let go of Showl’s feathers and turned aside the cloth of the bag. The dimness barely revealed a white molded scale in the shape of what was obviously part of her breast armor, silver filigree shone even in the darkness.

A roar echoed behind them.

Ange felt the hairs on her arms crawl with fear. She tossed the cloth back over the armor and grabbed a handful of feathers once again as she glanced back, seeing nothing but snow. She felt Showl’s claws tighten around her again, squeezing her body.

“Hold on tight!” he roared from above.

Ange glanced at his large face for one moment before she felt her little remaining sense of gravity leave her entirely.

She screamed horrified as they began to quickly plummet towards the earth, delving through the snow and ice, she felt her stomach
heave as Showl began to spin, the world around her twisted violently and incomprehensively. She closed her eyes tightly and tucked her head down, praying the dizzying fall would be over soon.

She felt her entire frame jerk as a snap of wings sounded from somewhere behind as another furious roar howled out after them, growing quieter with distance and the screaming of the
contemptuous wind.

A blistering pain began to sear across her head, a feeling she was becoming all to accustom to. The burning began to lick violently across her skin, harsher then she remember it. Her muscles froze up in
excruciation, the cold air only made it worse. Her mind shut down under the stress and torture as her vision failed. A single howl rang to her ears, piercing pain into her skull in a renewed rush of agony.

“Angeline!”

Chapter
13: Ice before Night and Day

A shake to the shoulder quickly roused Ange from darkness. Her mind felt foggy and her tongue tasked of bile. She hissed in disgust as she racked her tongue under her teeth to rid herself of the horrendous taste and blinked her eyes open. She squinted her eyes feeling confused, dizzy, and her head still ached though not as painfully as before. Her skin felt feverish as she noticed the stone floor under her hands as all the bags laid on the floor next to her.

“Are you alright? You need to hurry my little
Soulbound, Sora will not be delayed by the snowstorm much longer and I was only able to barely reduce the mana affecting you…” Showl’s normal voice coaxed gently.

Ange blinked the gunk out of her eyes and turned her gaze to Showl, who was crouched over her with a concerned expression, in human form. She sighed relieved, feeling more shocked then awed that she had witnessed two dragons battling over a burning house, calling the very weather to change around them to
violent conditions.

Ange pushed herself up, thankful of Showl’s supportive hand as he pulled her up by her right arm onto her feet.

She gazed up and stared for a moment to the still ceiling of the air dome that protected them yet still displayed the ragging snow around them, it seemed like they were deep under an ocean of black with swirling currents of white. She could barely see, if it weren’t for the glow that predated throughout the clearing in the night.

She recognized the
plateau high in the mountains in a heartbeat. Her gaze followed the white blue glow to the center of the very tableland.

There at the center of the perfectly circular clearing in its tomb of ice glowed a silvery blade, the sword
bade her to come forward, eager for her touch.

She swallowed nervously, intently aware that the draw she felt for the weapon was suddenly
more potent than the last time she had been before it.

Her body began to move towards it of its own accord, she grimaced in fear that an object could hold a
grip over her that obviously could not be sundered.

A hand touched her back gently, pausing her body for a moment as she turned her eyes to Showl who smiled at her encouragingly, even though worry shone brightly in his gaze.

Ange nodded once in determination and fixed her gaze to the ice and sword once more as she continued at a steady pace towards the cold frozen water, every inch she came closer the pull became stronger, urging her to not hesitate and take what was rightfully hers by birthright.

Cool mist touched her face as she entered the inner ring of fog around the large transparent crystal, brushing the lingering blistering heat away from her skin gently and leaving her feeling relieved as she let out a breath that relaxed her stiff and nervous composure. She felt entirely aware of a dense web of magical energy encircling the perimeter of the article of ice, something she hadn’t noticed before. It thrummed with intense energy, almost suffocating as it enveloped around her form.

Of its own volition once more, her right hand lifted towards the ice. Her fingers touched the frosty surface as smooth as glass. She stared into the depths of the ice to the length of the sword, the crystal at the hilt was the source of light that brimmed the clearing, dazzling her eyes and forcing her to blink till her eyes adjusted to the glow.

Her brows furrowed in confusion as Showl took up a position on the other side of
the froze weapon.

“What do I do now?” Ange questioned quietly, confused.

Showl gazed at her with eyes that appeared almost glazed, his voice was like a thundering echo, the voice of a dragon.

“You must feel the magic, allow it in,
trust it. Then simply reach into the ice, grasp the hilt and allow the energy it holds to be released.”

“Will it hurt?” she asked feeling anxious once more.

“No,” Showl replied simply.

Ange frowned deeply as she sucked in a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes. She slowly let out the breath from her mouth and within the darkness of her mind she tried to become attuned to the
mana, the energy that pulsed around her body.

Frustration quickly took her as nothing happened, she felt nothing except the weight the energy created around her. Darkness existed with no light, no life. The power was there, but it was outside her reach, nothing seemed to touch her as she forced herself to relax, nothing seemed to change for minutes.

Thinking upon Showl’s words she analyzed what he had spoken like it was a riddle. She needed to trust the magic in order for it to enter, that was the barrier she found herself at.

Do I trust the magic?
She proposed with honesty. She carefully thought on the answer, examining her feelings. She didn’t know if she did.
How can I trust something I don’t know?
She grimaced finding herself at another troubling obstacle, and they were quickly running out of time.

“You must want it.”

She stiffened as Showl’s deep and powerful voice resonated in the silence, echoing in her ears.

She breathed in and out once more, relaxing as she thought on his new words.

Want it? The magic? Or the sword?
She was lost again for an answer.

A vision suddenly
assailed through the darkness, lighting the night of her thoughts with brilliance.

Upon a mighty white dragon she found herself feeling
exhilarated, breathless, and alive as she gazed from the cusp of the world to the dark starry heavens above to the ocean below as floes of ice floated among the glowing sunset of Ebur as Rubor sunk past the horizon that split the world between night and day.

Her envisioned Showl tucked his long wings to his sides as they began a decent for the sea, Ange laughed excitedly, astonished that she was standing upon his head, holding onto one of the many curves of his elegant horns. She felt no fear as they free dived down to the sea and the winds brushed against her face, fanning her hair behind her. She could smell the salt of the ocean and she smiled as Showl twisted through the air once before flaring his wings, curving their
trajectory over the ocean. They shot over the water causing it to part in their flight, Ange felt a sparking energy at the tips of her fingers, eager to be released.

She relished the sense of strength for a moment before it became overwhelming, seeking escape from the containment of it vessel. She relaxed and allowed the energy to surge out, her gaze caught upon the waves that rose as they flashed over water towards the last sun in the horizon. As she watched, it was almost as if she could see threads of icy blue trail from her fingers, soaring to the vantage her eyes were locked on. As she gazed on the water froze on contact with the magic, pillars of
talons clawed in their direction as they glided by, she laughed exalted and slowed the amount of power escaping from her body, the waves began to collapsed into piles of snow that splashed heavily into the water, melting quickly.

She cut off the energy and smiled amazed as she looked back, down the long feathery
spine of Showl’s back to gaze at the disturbance she had left behind. The icy waves glittered in the evening sunlight, immortalizing Showl’s wide wingspan and the speed with which they traversed over the salty waters. She wasn’t alone, at the back of her mind she was acutely aware of a comforting and constant presence, encouraging, and an obvious friend. A conscious that was alien yet familiar, a stranger yet someone she knew almost as well as herself…

Slowly the world around her became
black again and she found herself yelling in protest as it slowly vanished before her eyes along with all the sensations. The spirit of flight and speed were gone and the wind no longer embraced her, the air was tasteless. The fingers of her right hand felt the cold touch of ice rather than the electrifying energy she had tasted only moments ago. But the power was still there, she could feel it, buried deep within, seeking escape from its prison, pleading to her to believe in its might.

She desired the return of that energy, the freedom and excitement the sky promised, the unwavering friend she had detected, and the power to change the world…

I want that, I want all of it. If it is was real, any price I must pay is well worth it.

Something shifted, sparked, changed, no words could place
the aesthesia as her hand sunk into cool matter.

Ange gasped and opened her eyes, gazing in amazement that her fingers were half
way submerged into the ice, like the water had frozen around them. Curiously she dipped her hand deeper to the wrist, amazed that she could feel the frigid element shifter around her skin as if it were a part of her, it wasn’t even cold. It felt normal, absolutely natural to be a part of the frozen liquid.

She glanced up to Showl with a triumphant smile.

His eyes regained a flicker of life and he gave her a small smile, pride evident in his gaze.

A roar like thunder rang through the growling of the snowstorm. Ange sense of urgency spiked as terror latched onto her, making her skin crawl.

She glanced a moment behind them to the dark storm of the night, nothing was visible, even with the steady glow of the sword’s gemstone.

The thrumming of wing beats vibrated through the very air towards them.

Ange grimaced disturbed and returned her gaze to the ice, sinking her arm further into the magical ice, she gazed horrified that her arm wasn’t long enough, her fingers were still a few inches away from the blade’s hilt.

Another roar filled the air, filled with rage, as Ange glance back.
Sora’s dragon head broke through the raging storm, entering the sill air surrounding the clearing. Her jaws parted as she let out another unearthly roar down upon them, the light of the sword’s pommel illuminated her fangs, her frontal canines glimmered black like obsidian while the rest of her long teeth were the shade of ivory.

Ange gasped and plunged her shoulder and side of her body into the ice, her fingers
transgressing the last few desperate inches to the reach the grip of the hilt. She puffed relieved as her fingers encircled the cold material and she squeezed tightly.

The ice crackled like shattering glass as webs of cracks splinted from her hand to the surface.

Ange gasped shocked as she was pushed back by a blast of energy, the light of the gemstone grew in strength. The ice broke away with a sharp echoing whistle that screeched throughout the clearing. A beam of light shot towards the heavens with a resounding scream, lighting the night and parting the clouds instantly in a wide diameter half the size of the clearing as a shockwave rocked the air around them. The light arched over them, forming a barrier of silvery blue that repelled the enraged Sora with a yowl of fury.

Ange stare up amazed then looked down and gasped startled, realizing she was hovering over the ground with no obvious reason. Upon her chest, something glowed beneath her clothes, she unbuttoned the neck of the simple long sleeved shirt and gazed down to her birthmark surprised as she realized it was emitting light, steadily. As she shifted her gaze away from her floating feet she turned to see the sword hovering straight ahead as the shattered ice spiraled around it in a collage of crystal fragments ranging from the size of her head to the
minuteness of her pinky finger. They gleamed and fractured the light like a sumptuous chandelier made of diamonds, sparkling the ray of light surrounding the sword with blinding radiance.

The beam of light dissipated, breaking apart and bringing the world around them to darkness once more, the jewel continued to glow like a sol gem as the glyphs upon the metal slowly grew
lit. A quiet chanting seemed to ring around the clearing, echoing in Ange’s ears in a haunting melody of words she could not understand.

Ange watched on in wonder and confusion, further away, on the opposite end of the sword, hovered Showl appearing relaxed and transfixed on the sword. His gaze was empty and as Ange gazed closer she gasped in horror.

His golden eyes were orbs of honey yellow in his face, his pupils had vanished.

Two shards of ice split away from the twirling wall of ice fragments orbiting the sword, one glided gently towards her as the other made its way towards Showl.

Instinctually she felt compelled to lift her left hand towards the piece of ice. She stared at it bewildered as the thin sliver of ice gleamed fiercely as it twirled for her hand. She hissed as the shard slashed across her palm.

In disbelief she watched as her blood seeped from the wound, slowly trailing away and hovering in a scarlet stream after the shard as it
propelled its way back to the cluster of ice. She tore her eyes off the trail of blood and looked over to Showl, his gauntlet hovered in the air beside him as blood also leaked from a cut on his palm, his face still void of reaction and cast in wintery blue.

Ange frowned, wondering the purpose of the blood as she watched the two shards of ice slowly sink into the gem of the sword’s pommel. A single drop of blood from each stream broke away, perfect crimson spheres as they float towards the stone. They splashed onto its surface of the crystal, webbing out before sinking slowly into the clear gem. The crystal’s blue glow became sanguine, sparks flung themselves from the sword, bouncing off the ice around the blade with fierce hissing as the light grew in intensity, like
Rubor had fallen out of the sky before them. The clearing was bathed in the color of blood.