According to Jacques, as Dragons flew, Manit was not far from the slaver’s fortress. The rogue Dragons would have sentries in the city, and the sudden appearance of a strange Dragon in the sky was sure to be noticed. So Tyrez needed to get well away before transitioning to his winged beast.
It took him about an hour on foot to reach the fields beyond the outskirts, and another thirty minutes to find a place sheltered enough not only to hide his transition, but also disguise his Dragon. If he flew low to the forest along the series of deep valleys Jacques had described, he should remain undetected.
With a sigh, he embraced his Dragon.
The transition pain hurt worse than usual, and he was also slower to achieve the change. Both were signs that he was pushing the envelope, resource wise. Not enough food, and he’d even forgotten to take some of his crystal dust supplements. He’d been knocked off balance by this Archmage thing, and wasn’t paying attention to his body’s needs.
As a Legion Dragon, he needed to do better.
It would be easier to navigate the narrow canyons and approach the fortress unseen if he stayed at phase one. So he took to the air in his smaller form and stayed just above treetops, barely visible in the light of the twin moons.
The valley walls eventually grew steeper and evolved into mountains. He would need to gain altitude if he wanted to find the fortress.
Wings beating hard, he followed the upward thrust of a mountain for as far as it would take him. And then broke free with only the clouds for cover.
He was counting on the fact that most local Dragons would be about the same size as he was now. Anyone catching a fleeting glimpse of him might consider him one of them, rather than a Legion soldier.
So long as they didn’t get a close look, anyway.
Tyrez leveled out above the clouds and drifted on a thermal, his keen eyes scanning the mountains below. He spotted the fortress almost immediately. Its red-hued stone had been imported from elsewhere and contrasted with the pale-gray tones of the native rock.
This realm had basic level technology, so it wouldn’t surprise him if the fortress had an electronic security grid as well as living Dragon guards. But not a single light showed within the structure, and nothing moved, either. Was the rogue Dragon boss away? There should still be a basic low-level presence, maintenance people, that kind of thing.
Tyrez folded his wings, dropping through the clouds, and then, when nothing further was revealed, he flew low over the structure.
If there was a security grid, it was down. But he no longer feared detection. Corpses scattered the ground. Dragons.DeadDragons.
His gut tying in knots, Tyrez landed beside one. The shapeshifter had died in Dragon form, the long neck twisted back over its shoulders, the once brilliant eyes now dull and glazed. Marks in the surrounding snow indicated it had not died an easy death—it had writhed and thrashed its way to the grave. The only blood visible was from the mouth and nostrils.
Yet look as he might, Tyrez couldn’t find anything other than three small holes, as though someone had poked the Dragon with a stick. Even with their scales weakened by a lack of crystal in their blood, it took a lot to penetrate the skin. What had done this?
The body wasn’t alone. Tyrez found many more, scattered across the side of the mountain. All showing the same signs of dying in agony.
What the shards had happened here?
Staying in his phase-one form, Tyrez paced into the fortress.
One external wall had been blasted away. The place smelled scorched, and his skin vibrated with the residual power that still leaked from the crumbled stone. Power that had a familiar signature—the spikes along his spine bristled erect.
He’d last felt it when it blasted into his temple in the cemetery.
He went deeper into the fortress, mentally tasting the energy, attempting to get a handle on where it had come from. The signature danced through the corridors, leading him deeper and deeper without finding any clear answers.
Tyrez’s instincts were on fire. What was this power? A Cryptid? A talented individual recruited by Rindek? He remembered what Dani had told him about the other Torshin. Surely there weren’t two Archmages?
He fervently hoped not.
The energy felt very male. Male and...
He stopped and reached again for it. Male andalive. Suddenly, the energy flared almost as bright as a second sun.
Whoever had done thiswas still here.
His brain screamed at him tomove. He reached for the crystal in his blood, sending it surging through every cell in his body, expanding his Dragon.
It was too little, too late. The world ignited around him, crackling with powerful energy, blasting not into him, but into the surrounding stone.
With a thundering crash, it all came down.
