Up In Smoke
Page 75
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
The man I’d come to think of as Baltic stood at the end of the twisted parody of Bael’s palace hallway. He spun around when I entered the shadow world, avarice chasing disbelief across his face as he saw me.
‘‘You!’’ he said first, then seemed to scent the air. ‘‘You bear the dragon shard?’’
He started down the hallway toward me.
‘‘May!’’ Gabriel yelled; he was not visible to me, but I could feel his presence nonetheless. ‘‘What are you doing? Leave now!’’
I spun around on my heels and bolted, not wanting to stay around to see what Baltic had on his mind. ‘‘I can’t!’’ I yelled to Gabriel as I raced around tortured bits of masonry and metal, sliding down an incline to a pit, only to leap up the other side and through a shattered archway. This part of Bael’s palace seemed to be in ruins in the shadow world, making it difficult to navigate. ‘‘Bael knows about the recall. He’s kicked out Magoth, which means I have no status.’’
Gabriel swore again, this time more profanely, railing against the fact that he was unable to help me.
I hurdled a fallen stone pillar, quickly crawling underneath it to curl up in the inky recess it created, holding my breath as a shadow touched me briefly as it sped past.
‘‘May? May!’’
I waited until the dragon was well past me before emerging from my hiding spot, silently racing back the way I’d come. I assumed he could hear Gabriel and me talking, but the diffusing effect the shadow world had on sound made it likely he couldn’t pinpoint my location based on it.
‘‘May, answer me!’’ Gabriel roared, anger, frustration, and an impotent fury audible in his voice.
‘‘I’m here. I’ll find a way out,’’ I answered, taking a different path from the one that led to Chuan Ren’s prison. ‘‘Don’t worry about me, Gabriel. This is my world. I know my way around it.’’
‘‘Gabriel,’’ a male voice called out, uncomfortably close. I swung around and raced in the opposite direction. ‘‘Gabriel . . . Tauhou? Wyvern of the silver dragons.’’
Gabriel spat out something in the language I recognized as Zilant, the tongue used by dragons centuries before English was adopted as a universal means of communication.
The voice chuckled, the sound seemingly coming from everywhere at once. ‘‘And this is your mate? How did you get around the curse, I wonder. It is of little matter. She is no longer yours.’’
A wordless roar met that statement, one not of pain, but of absolute, unadulterated rage.
I paused for a second, startled by the depth of emotion in the sound.
‘‘Find somewhere to hide,’’ Gabriel yelled suddenly. ‘‘I will find you, little bird. Hide yourself and wait for me.’’
I wanted to point out the obvious, that even if he did find me, there was little he could do to help me since he had no physical presence in this world, but there seemed little use in that. I concentrated on controlling my breathing as I dashed around the shadow version of Bael’s palace, seeking a place well away from the mysterious dragon where I could hide, or a passage out to the real world.
Time seemed to blur as I searched. It had been hard enough to find an exit in Bael’s palace, but here in the shadow world, where the fabric of being had been warped by association with Abaddon, it was a nightmare of endless onyx archways leading to nowhere, pits that opened at my feet, broken columns and walls, and twisted black metal that clawed at me as I raced past.
A faint lightening in the distance heralded what might be a passage out of Abaddon. I stood for a moment, catching my breath before making my cautious way toward it, struggling to control the emotions the dragon shard had stirred in my flight. The hand gripping the demon’s sword was stiff and aching. I relaxed my fingers, flexing them to restore the blood flow as I listened intently for sounds the dragon was near. For the previous fifteen or so minutes I hadn’t heard anything but the normal muted sounds of the shadow world. Perhaps I’d given him the slip.
I looked at the promising light on the horizon, weighing my need to save myself with Gabriel’s request that I find a hiding spot and wait for him. I shook my head as I considered the latter. ‘‘There’s no time,’’ I argued to myself. ‘‘Even if he got someone to come into the shadow world to help me, it would take that person too long to find me. I have to get out of Abaddon.’’
‘‘I agree. Abaddon is no place for you,’’ a voice said behind me. I snatched up the sword, whirling around to face the man who emerged from the shadow of a half-tumbled wall. He glanced at the weapon held in front of me, one eyebrow rising lazily. ‘‘You have nothing to fear from me, mate.’’
‘‘I’m not even going to point out how ludicrous that statement is,’’ I said, both of my hands holding the sword so it pointed at his heart. Dragons might be hard to kill, but even they wouldn’t run headlong into a sword. ‘‘I will warn you that I have no intention of being taken away from Gabriel, nor will I allow you to take the dragon shard.’’
The dragon ignored both the threat and the sword as he circled around me, eyeballing me from the top of my head to the toes of my boots. I kept the sword between him and me, turning as he made his objectionable examination. ‘‘You are not as finely made as my mate was.’’ A slow smile made his lips quirk. ‘‘On the other hand, there is much pleasure to be had in taking the mate of a silver dragon again.’’
‘‘I’m not Ysolde,’’ I said, wondering if my stab in the dark was going to find its mark. ‘‘And Gabriel is not Constantine Norka.’’
He lunged at me, snarling out something I didn’t understand. I slashed at him with the sword, amazed as the air in front of me gathered into a blue light that formed itself in a sword. ‘‘Do not think that because I will take you as mate means you will be anything but a pale comparison to her. You are merely a female, a means to an end, a lesser dragon and nothing more.’’
‘‘I’m not a dragon,’’ I growled, the tip of my sword cutting through the air as I waved it in warning.
He looked at my hands. My fingers were long, covered in silver scales, and tipped with red.
‘‘Not normally,’’ I added, moving slightly to the side. If I could get around him, I might be able to race toward the spot that I thought might be an exit.
‘‘You!’’ he said first, then seemed to scent the air. ‘‘You bear the dragon shard?’’
He started down the hallway toward me.
‘‘May!’’ Gabriel yelled; he was not visible to me, but I could feel his presence nonetheless. ‘‘What are you doing? Leave now!’’
I spun around on my heels and bolted, not wanting to stay around to see what Baltic had on his mind. ‘‘I can’t!’’ I yelled to Gabriel as I raced around tortured bits of masonry and metal, sliding down an incline to a pit, only to leap up the other side and through a shattered archway. This part of Bael’s palace seemed to be in ruins in the shadow world, making it difficult to navigate. ‘‘Bael knows about the recall. He’s kicked out Magoth, which means I have no status.’’
Gabriel swore again, this time more profanely, railing against the fact that he was unable to help me.
I hurdled a fallen stone pillar, quickly crawling underneath it to curl up in the inky recess it created, holding my breath as a shadow touched me briefly as it sped past.
‘‘May? May!’’
I waited until the dragon was well past me before emerging from my hiding spot, silently racing back the way I’d come. I assumed he could hear Gabriel and me talking, but the diffusing effect the shadow world had on sound made it likely he couldn’t pinpoint my location based on it.
‘‘May, answer me!’’ Gabriel roared, anger, frustration, and an impotent fury audible in his voice.
‘‘I’m here. I’ll find a way out,’’ I answered, taking a different path from the one that led to Chuan Ren’s prison. ‘‘Don’t worry about me, Gabriel. This is my world. I know my way around it.’’
‘‘Gabriel,’’ a male voice called out, uncomfortably close. I swung around and raced in the opposite direction. ‘‘Gabriel . . . Tauhou? Wyvern of the silver dragons.’’
Gabriel spat out something in the language I recognized as Zilant, the tongue used by dragons centuries before English was adopted as a universal means of communication.
The voice chuckled, the sound seemingly coming from everywhere at once. ‘‘And this is your mate? How did you get around the curse, I wonder. It is of little matter. She is no longer yours.’’
A wordless roar met that statement, one not of pain, but of absolute, unadulterated rage.
I paused for a second, startled by the depth of emotion in the sound.
‘‘Find somewhere to hide,’’ Gabriel yelled suddenly. ‘‘I will find you, little bird. Hide yourself and wait for me.’’
I wanted to point out the obvious, that even if he did find me, there was little he could do to help me since he had no physical presence in this world, but there seemed little use in that. I concentrated on controlling my breathing as I dashed around the shadow version of Bael’s palace, seeking a place well away from the mysterious dragon where I could hide, or a passage out to the real world.
Time seemed to blur as I searched. It had been hard enough to find an exit in Bael’s palace, but here in the shadow world, where the fabric of being had been warped by association with Abaddon, it was a nightmare of endless onyx archways leading to nowhere, pits that opened at my feet, broken columns and walls, and twisted black metal that clawed at me as I raced past.
A faint lightening in the distance heralded what might be a passage out of Abaddon. I stood for a moment, catching my breath before making my cautious way toward it, struggling to control the emotions the dragon shard had stirred in my flight. The hand gripping the demon’s sword was stiff and aching. I relaxed my fingers, flexing them to restore the blood flow as I listened intently for sounds the dragon was near. For the previous fifteen or so minutes I hadn’t heard anything but the normal muted sounds of the shadow world. Perhaps I’d given him the slip.
I looked at the promising light on the horizon, weighing my need to save myself with Gabriel’s request that I find a hiding spot and wait for him. I shook my head as I considered the latter. ‘‘There’s no time,’’ I argued to myself. ‘‘Even if he got someone to come into the shadow world to help me, it would take that person too long to find me. I have to get out of Abaddon.’’
‘‘I agree. Abaddon is no place for you,’’ a voice said behind me. I snatched up the sword, whirling around to face the man who emerged from the shadow of a half-tumbled wall. He glanced at the weapon held in front of me, one eyebrow rising lazily. ‘‘You have nothing to fear from me, mate.’’
‘‘I’m not even going to point out how ludicrous that statement is,’’ I said, both of my hands holding the sword so it pointed at his heart. Dragons might be hard to kill, but even they wouldn’t run headlong into a sword. ‘‘I will warn you that I have no intention of being taken away from Gabriel, nor will I allow you to take the dragon shard.’’
The dragon ignored both the threat and the sword as he circled around me, eyeballing me from the top of my head to the toes of my boots. I kept the sword between him and me, turning as he made his objectionable examination. ‘‘You are not as finely made as my mate was.’’ A slow smile made his lips quirk. ‘‘On the other hand, there is much pleasure to be had in taking the mate of a silver dragon again.’’
‘‘I’m not Ysolde,’’ I said, wondering if my stab in the dark was going to find its mark. ‘‘And Gabriel is not Constantine Norka.’’
He lunged at me, snarling out something I didn’t understand. I slashed at him with the sword, amazed as the air in front of me gathered into a blue light that formed itself in a sword. ‘‘Do not think that because I will take you as mate means you will be anything but a pale comparison to her. You are merely a female, a means to an end, a lesser dragon and nothing more.’’
‘‘I’m not a dragon,’’ I growled, the tip of my sword cutting through the air as I waved it in warning.
He looked at my hands. My fingers were long, covered in silver scales, and tipped with red.
‘‘Not normally,’’ I added, moving slightly to the side. If I could get around him, I might be able to race toward the spot that I thought might be an exit.
