Sorrow's Peak (Serpent of Time Book 2) (69 page)

Dodging the mage’s lightning, the serpentine creature’s wings slapped the air, lifting it higher with each spread of its massive, leathery appendages. Its long neck wavered as it regarded them, turning small, beady red eyes to make contact with each of them.

“I thought you would never arrive.” How odd for it to speak in tongues men had not heard for hundreds of years, and yet the words translated in perfect echoes in their minds. “I’ve been waiting,” it hissed, long, forked tongue lashing out beneath its scaly chin before slipping between hard lips again.

It had a stiff, reptilian face with a broad, rippled forehead crowned in spiky, iridescent horns. From each of its shoulders sprouted large, talonned wings that cracked like leather as it lifted itself higher above them. He’d never seen a dragon outside the images sketched in old tomes his brother used to read, and there were no pictures in any of Vilnjar’s books about the Seraphii, but he didn’t need to call to mind old memories of pictures to know this creature was a distorted perversion of that which was darkest and once most pure in their world.

Finn had never seen anything so ugly in his life, and when that thought passed through him the creature laughed, a maniacal display of incensed amusement that made his blood feel cold inside his veins. Bren took advantage of the distraction, shooting another rain of sparks that bounced off its scales and wrought piercing screams of protest from its shrieking mouth. Chunks of gold and jewel dripped from its wings and skin, falling back into the pile below.

“We are here for the Horns of Llorveth,” Lorelei called defiantly over its screams.

It grew instantly silent, save for the chink of coin still dropping from its body. Narrowing his eyes, Finn realized it wasn’t a large creature. Possibly only slightly larger than a man, its enviable wingspan made it appear fiercer than it was, but it was manageable. On the other hand, it hadn’t survived in the depths of Great Sorrow because of its size. It was a cunning thing, wicked and powerful in ways he could still feel the echoes of inside his mind. As if it sensed him sizing it up, a pulse of false memory flashed through him, the darkness, the sound of Lorelei kissing the half-elf as she talked about how easily she could string Finn along.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts, he stretched his arm behind him until he could feel her armor with the tips of his fingers. That simple touch was more than enough reassurance. She said she loved him and she meant it.

His outright defiance of its attack made it writhe and squirm in shrieking protest, its tale shooting out like a cracking whip, wings rushing and stirring up the loose treasure beneath its body as it flapped higher and higher to lord over them from above its hoard.

Beside him Lorelei was mesmerized by its hideous beauty. Locked in a stare down, her golden-amber eyes wide with fear, her entire body trembled. “You will not turn us against one another,” she defied it with trembling voice. “We are here for the Horns of Llorveth. If you give them to us, we will leave you to your treasure and be on our way.”

“Leave?” It cackled maniacally, a series of heated, cracking wisps of sound unlike anything Finn had ever heard before. It unnerved him that so hideous a noise could be coupled with amusement. “It cannot leave this place. It cannot have the god’s broken honor.”

“I’d like to see you try to keep us here,” Finn challenged it. Hair whipping around his face, he hadn’t realized he was sweating until it clung to his cheeks and forehead.

The hushing ring of steel being drawn from scabbard echoed through the cavern, and when he glanced down he saw Lorelei found her courage as well. She raised her small shield in front of her, preparing to charge into battle. The mage stood tall at her back, bloodshot eyes staring forward as he muttered incantations of spidery language, the tips of his fingers sparking and glowing with unreleased magic. The force of the drakoren’s wings fluttered through their hair, Brendolowyn’s hood wavered around his shoulders and the tangle of braids he wore jostled against his face.

Lorelei didn’t dare take her eyes from the monster. The right toe of her boot edged forward, followed by the left. It dawned quickly, what she was preparing herself for, and being the mad and reckless fool he was, he couldn’t allow it. His arm shot out, thrusting her behind him and then he charged forward, sword drawn and angled for attack. He dug his boots into the mountain of treasure and raced upward to challenge the beast.

It lifted a bony arm, wings still carrying it upward, and with a determined flick it sent forward a burst of unseen energy that collided with Finn’s body.

It pushed him backwards like a forceful wind, tearing the sword from his hand and sending it clattering into the far stone wall just seconds before his back collided with it. Sparks of white, hot pain shot through every one of his muscles, the back of his head snapping off the stone before he felt himself falling into a dark, black pit of despair.

The last thing Finn thought before the world winked out was: Really? This is how it all ends for me?

And then there was nothing.

Finn’s body landed with a metallic rush of sound. Lorelei felt a fearful breath catch in the back of her throat. She hadn’t even realized she released that breath until the agony of her own scream sounded off the walls around them and rang in her ears.

She watched as he sunk into the treasure all around them, disappearing until all she could see of him was the back of his leg jutting out of the gold mound upon which he’d fallen. The fear that only seconds earlier suspended her movement lifted like a veil, and in that moment all Lorelei knew as rage.

Pouring through her like liquid fire, it was hot and white and it consumed her completely. She hadn’t even realized she was running until she felt loose trinkets and coin slipping beneath the worn bottoms of her boots. Charging up the mountain of gold, she arrived beneath the drakoren, which held itself aloft above her, its wings continuously flapping like hard leather being shaken into a stiff wind. It was laughing at her, leering mouth agape, hissing, putrid breath filling her ears with a triumphant, mocking sound that only strengthened her rage.

She held the small sword Frigga and her father forged for her out in front with no confidence, the shield in her other hand trembling. The monster glared with absolute pleasure, its sharp mouth gaping to reveal rows of needled teeth dripping in steaming saliva. She swore, even though it was several feet above her, she could smell the rancid, sickening stench of its breath, and she drew her shield up on instinct to block out the odor.

Its crisp, throaty laughter swarmed through her, drawing with it a thousand images that filled her with fear and made her step backward, gasping as her boot slid through the unstable mound beneath her.

“Let us see,” it growled inside her mind. “Let us see, let us see.”

She could feel it probing through her thoughts, picking through fears and flashing them back at her with malefic intent. It showed her Finn, dead, broken, lying atop the mounds of gold with blood trickling from his slightly parted lips, empty eyes staring into the nothing above him. The shudder that moved through her was crippling, her heart aching as though it was torn from her chest and crushed right before her eyes. As she turned a look over her shoulder, in the direction he’d fallen, the drakoren found another tender spot to poke, drawing images of her sister’s face to the surface and distorting them with every one of Lorelei’s fears.

Cornered by Trystay, he reached for the girl but she shoved his hands away and he lifted a clenched fist across her face in a blow that cracked inside Lorelei’s mind. She screamed the word no, the sound catching in her tight and aching throat as she called out, “Miri, don’t let him hurt you! Mirien! No!”

“Lorelei, don’t let it into your mind!” The sound of Brendolowyn’s call barely reached her ears, but it drew her from the edge of terror. “It’s showing you that which you fear most. Do not listen to it! Whatever it shows you, whatever you see, it is not real.”

The drakoren snapped its head toward the mage, hand lifting in the same gesture she’d witnessed just before Finn went flying across the cavern, but when its liquid-loose movement followed, she remained steadfast where she stood, both feet planted firmly as she leaned into the strong gust of its power sweeping through her. That gust was so forceful, the shield she held up to protect herself splintered and broke against it, shards of wood sprayed against her chest, stuck in her hair and blew past her to shower the treasure at her back. A few of them rose to cut her cheeks, but she remained solid, unmoved beyond the breaking of her shield.

Another blast of static magic shot past her shoulder, struck the drakoren in its thigh and tore a scream of rage from its rasping throat as it jolted backward and flapped its furious wings to stay aloft. Its long tale shot out again, striking her in the chest and sending her flailing backward. She landed several feet away, in a pile of rubies and silver pieces. Breath seized in her lungs as she gasped desperately for air.

Brendolowyn streamed into battle, alternating between balls of fire and shocks of lightning as the drakoren danced and bounced atop the air, always ducking before the magic struck its target. Lorelei felt the blasts of heat, the tingling sensation of electrical magic buzzing across her skin.

The creature conjured spells of its own, sending clouds of poison winging through the air that the battle-mage singed before they ever reached him. The smell was intoxicating, wretched as it filled her lungs and made her feel dizzy when she scrambled to her feet.

She stumbled, the unsteady surface of the treasure-laden ground slipping beneath her boots. Stabilizing herself at last, she crouched, her sword arm feeling numb and strange as she staggered forward and tried to lift it in warning.

“Stay back, Lorelei,” Brendolowyn hollered over his shoulder. “See to Finn.”

She hesitated only a moment, then scanned the half-dark cavern, trying to remember where he’d fallen. She started in that direction, but she’d only taken three unsteady steps when the black wolf burst from the hoard in a shower of gold and jewels. Roaring his rage, the beast charged forward, pushing himself off the mound in three long, springing steps and rising through the air to collide with the unassuming drakoren.

Knocking it from the air, their bodies skidded through riches, the metallic spray burying them in a struggling flourish of snarls, grunts and growls. Lorelei stood stunned for a moment, not physically incapable of moving, but unable to move nonetheless. What was she supposed to do? Charge in with her sword? Did she call out a taunt to draw its attention from Finn? The beast was a flourish of unfathomable rage, jaw snapping, claws rending through flesh and blood spraying through the air in what seemed like great geysers.

But Lorelei just stood there, stunned stupid.

“Find the horns!” Bren called to her, drawing her back to her senses.

Panic made it hard to focus, but she pieced together his commanded, nodded once and began scanning the mound for something, anything that looked like what they’d come for. She didn’t know if finding the Horns of Llorveth would change anything, if it would shift the battle to their favor, but that was her purpose. It was what she came for.

The light was tenuous and fleeting, occasional bursts from Brendolowyn’s magic shimmering across the gold and reflecting off jewels. It was barely enough to see by, but she dropped onto her hands and knees and began rummaging through the horde as she moved.

She felt useless. Unable to protect herself or her friends, she was a liability. Why had she been chosen? It made no sense. Frantic fingers sifted through cold metal, shifting armor, weapons, platters, sweeping great mounds of coin and jewel as she pressed forward on her hands and knees. It was impossible to pay attention to what she was doing, to focus on finding the horns.

Over her shoulder she heard the wolf roar, an inhuman, savage sound that made her breath catch in her throat, and then he howled. The drakoren screamed in vicious reply, the sound so piercing her ears felt like they were bleeding. Casting occasional glances toward the action, each glimpse was like a punch in the gut. The drakoren batted the wolf away repeatedly, sending it sprawling, arms flailing until it landed with a snuffling snort, shook off the stars and charged right back in with a vengeance.

Brendolowyn attacked from the other side, distracting it enough for Finn to recover himself long enough to charge back into the fight, but the drakoren was quicker than anything she’d ever seen. It threw up a shield, shooting bolts of sickly light at the mage before casting its other hand toward the wolf again, an unseen burst of energy pinning Finn against the far wall. She could hear the wolf choking, as if the pinning force squeezed the breath from him.

Brendolowyn struggled to race up the mountain, boots skidding and slipping. She didn’t know he was there, however, until his hand touched down on her shoulder. “Have you found them?” he shouted over the din of battle.

“Not yet,” she lowered her attention back to the ground beneath her trembling hands and followed patterns of light across the horde.

Finn yelped, a heavy thud following and her focus was once more drawn away from her task. She watched the wolf rise again, shrug off the pain and leer at his foe with lolling tongue. He lifted a foot, prepared to rush in.

“He’s such a…” her exasperation with him died, the sound echoing through the cavern.

She was fixated on the unseen, waiting for the worst, which inevitably came in an air-trembling blast that threw the wolf several feet, both arms and legs circling in panic. He touched down again with a thunderous drop, but before he could charge back in Bren shot a stunning wave at the wolf to prevent him from making another foolish, useless attempt, and then he darted past Lorelei raising a deafening wind that stirred around him like a tornado. It whipped the treasure, catching bits and pieces of it in clanging, jingling, swirling madness. The drakoren crawled, still stunned, from where it barely managed to throw Finn off and recover itself.