Dragon Ascendant

Chapter Thirty: Dragon Ascendant

"You've got to stop this, Isidra!" Cendrion called over the chaos of the collapsing rocks as Isidra caught up to him.

"I can't. He's blocked me from using the Neuralogue. I'm useless."

"Not useless." Syl's voice was soft in her ear, barely audible, but the sentiment radiated from the human's soul into hers. "We'll avenge our parents."

That seemed an odd way to phrase it, but Isidra had no time for questions. She swerved to dodge a falling boulder, nearly crashing into Talar.

"Can you divert any of these rocks?" she asked Syl.

The human shook her head. "I'm working off the soulbane."

Isidra cursed herself for being so stupid. I should have asked the Neuralogue to undo the effects of the poison when I had the chance.

Though it felt like a lifetime had passed in the intervening time, it had only been a few hours since Syl had been locked in the Internment Isle. Now it was too late—they were both crippled, without any power to combat the mage who was destroying their home.

"I've got us covered," said Cendrion. Rocks tumbled away from them, freeing their paths as they continued their airborne climb.

"You'll waste all your energy," Azhouée chided. "Save some for the murdering lunatic up there!"

"It won't matter if we don't live to face him," said Vylen.

"We're almost at the Utilities Level," said Isidra. Faded yellow lights flickered in the stone halls above. Enorchus was nowhere to be seen—he'd already torn a hole in the ceiling of the subterranean level and risen higher. The next story up was the Hearth, where underage dragons lived until it came time for them to participate in the Impression Ceremony.

Would he stop there? Would he stoop to killing children to make me do as he says?

Isidra didn't want to believe it of him, but she was forced to admit he might be capable of any atrocious act.

They landed in the main corridor of the Utilities Level, settling by the crumbling edges of the gaping pit. The dragons were breathless. Vylen, though he'd been healed of the damage Enorchus had done, looked in particularly bad shape.

"What's the plan?" he panted. Everyone looked to Isidra.

"I—I don't know." There was no plan. If she was being honest, there was nothing they could do. While Enorchus had access to the Neuralogue, he was effectively unstoppable. "We can't win with magic."

"Then we'll win with something else," said Syl.

Azhouée scoffed. "Like what?"

"Strategy," Cendrion suggested, as Vylen said, "Weapons?"

"I like the way you think." Syl jumped from Isidra's back. "Does this place have any storage rooms? An armory?"

"You think pistols and crossbows are going to win against this?" said the nereid, gesturing to the catastrophic destruction around them.

"The Andarae exist to win wars." Syl turned and tromped down the crumbling corridor. "You can't tell me they don't have plasma cannons and enchanted bullets and all sorts of other garbage stashed somewhere."

"They must," Cendrion conceded, as the demiflight followed the human. "But I'm not familiar with this level."

"I know it like the back of my paw," said Isidra. "There's only one place weapons might be. This way." She led the group to a darkened side passage, lit by the light of Neuralogue nodes. No longer a reassuring soft purple, these had also turned a violent shade of red.