The creatures she’d escaped seconds earlier followed her across the floor. She sprinted for the bed but, even with Fel and his weapons there, she didn’t know how much safety it offered.
“Here.” Teyla waved for her to hurry.
As if she wasn’t already.
The orb warm and glowing under her armpit, Syla rounded two dead bug-lizards and skidded across the floor in her haste to take cover behind the headboard. Sweat and blood ran down Fel’s red face, but he remained their stalwart defender. He’d switched back to his mace, probably having no more luck firing the quarrels at the scaled creatures than he’d had with the dragon.
A roar boomed from the back of the canyon. One of frustration? Syla couldn’t tell but hoped there were too many obstacles for Vorik to hide behind for the dragon to reach him.
Something crashed after the roar. Another chunk of the canyon wall falling down?
Above, the Sixteen Talons and Freeborn Faction dragons flew in and out of view, none aware of the chaos below, but they had chaos of their own. Riders that had once all been allies loosed arrows and crossbow quarrels at each other as their dragons dove and wheeled, biting and launching streams of flame. One rider screamed in pain as an arrow pierced her shoulder, and she lost her sword.
The gargoyle-bone blade startled Syla by falling and clattered onto the floor ten feet away. Like boulders, it appeared weapons could pass through the barrier. If only Syla knew how to use that to their advantage.
If any of the aerial combatants noticed that the sword had disappeared instead of landing on what they perceived as the desert floor of the canyon, Syla couldn’t tell. They seemed too busy battling each other. Wreylith arrowed across the canyon with a black dragon and a gray dragon chasing her.
Syla stiffened. The black dragon was familiar, and so was its rider. General Jhiton.
Why was the bastard chasingWreylith? Wasn’t his vexation with the faction riders? Those he believed had taken Vorik as a hostage?
“Here are the old runes.” Teyla touched a glowing silver mark, and it throbbed. In the temple tongue, it read:Defender.
Though Syla wasn’t the one poking at things, the mark on the back of her hand also throbbed, pulsing in time with the rune.
She was too busy clenching a fist and glowering at General Jhiton to wonder at the significance. She wished she could get rid of the stormer officer, not only because he was chasing Wreylith, but because…
Her gaze shifted to Vorik, magnificent Vorik fighting with all his speed, stamina, and skill to keep that dragon from reaching them, to protecther. If not for the commanding officer of the Sixteen Talons being his brother, would Vorik even be herenemy? He was loyal to his people, but they were the general’s orders that he was obeying. If Jhiton were gone, maybe?—
“Pay attention, Syla.” Teyla gripped her shoulder as another eerie wind gusted through the laboratory. “I’ve translated enough to determine that this is a weapons platform.”
The new information pulled Syla from her thoughts. “What? The bed?”
“These runes say that one blessed by the gods and sworn to protect her people might call upon its power. That’s you.”
Syla peered at the runes.
“Unfortunately, it’s not me.” Teyla waved to the platform under the canopy. “I already tried standing up there and putting my palms on the marks on the columns.”
“Marks?” Syla rose and climbed onto the platform to look.
The two columns framing what she’d been thinking of as the headboard had faint handprints etched into the marble, as if one was meant to stand between them and rest one’s palms there. Another set marked the columns on the foot-end of the bed. Or, if Teyla was right, of theweapons platform.
“I think that’s how to activate it,” Teyla said. “Give it a try.”
The black dragon roared again as the battle continued above, the combatants unaware of the other threats below.
“I’m not a protector either,” Syla said but tucked the orb into her pack with the ore and set it next to the amphora, then stood between the headboard columns. Arms stretched wide, she could just reach two of the handprints, the marble cool beneath her palms.
Fel cracked a creature on the head and jumped off the platform to drive it back and give Syla more room.
“You’re a healer,” Teyla said. “What more protection could a person give?”
“I’m sure it means warrior.”
Even if it did, as Syla flattened her palms to the marks, power surged into her. At first, she thought it an attack and willed the magic within her to drive it back, but it was warm and invigorating, not painful.
Protect humanity,a soft ethereal voice whispered into her mind.We never meant for this to be, for our children to be threatened by his creations. Use this power to defeat him.
