As we all hear Ström roar through our minds now,Rikyava! You need to do everything in your power to get here, fast!!
“We need a portal. You make portals. Make us one. Now.” Bjorn is succinct as his searing all-gold gaze pins Baldur. My Fourth Drake lifts his eyebrows, but does not gainsay Bjorn, though he looks at me now for confirmation.
“You heard Bjorn. What can you do?” I ask, urgently. We’ve already come through countless portals of Baldur’s, so we know he can create them. Portal-making is a rare gift among dragons and comes only to those who have mastered the element of ether. I know Baldur has done that, thanks to the nature of his auric dragon and how much effortless control he has in the Void.
Not all portal-smiths are the same however; some take days to unleash their talents and create a portal, while others take mere moments. Some rely on complex ceremonies to craft that magic, while some extremely powerful dragons can make themde novo.
I’ve only seen a handful of dragons with those immense abilities in my life, however; my bestie, Layla Price, and her First Drake, Adrian Rhakvir.Their mortal enemy, Hunter, could also create them, though he was put down last year in a massive battle that smote the Red Letter Hotel Paris and scorched the skies. And we now know that our very own enemy Bone Mage drakaina can make them, who goes by the name Litha.
But what kind of portal, and how fast, are big questions we don’t know of Baldur yet. As he hesitates now, frowning, I know he’s not one who can make a portal from scratch anytime, anyplace.
He watches me with pensive blue-diamond eyes as a sudden dark fear takes me now, flooded with all the screaming darkness I’m feeling from Mikkel, hammering through my Bone Magic.
Baldur effortlessly wipes that fear away, however, as he bolsters me with light. It’s scorching and incredible, as he takes my darkness away. It’s not gone; I still know where it is. But it’s as if that darker side from my Bone Magic doesn’t control me anymore, as Baldur pins me with his gaze.
I remember who I am then, and all the brightness I bring to the world, as he stares me down. Baldur’s power synergizes with Bjorn’s as Bjorn wraps a strong arm around me now, corralling me to him, tight.
Because Bjorn knows we are not ones to shy away from a fight. We are not ones to cower in fear and darkness, as Baldur’s power agrees.
I feel their massive drakes come to a sudden truce inside me now, as we get ready for what’s next. They remind me of who I am: a bad bitch of a drakaina who takes no shit from anybody.
As that part of me snarls up high inside my veins now, blistering me with newfound firepower thanks to Baldur’s bonded magic, I feel Bjorn agree.
We’re bad bitches, all of us.
And the Jarl of Copenhagen will not have Mikkel without a fight.
“I can get us to Copenhagen,” Baldur says now as he gives a decisive nod. “Usually, I take a few days to prepare my energy to make a portal, but if you can give me everything you’ve got,” Baldur’s gaze snaps to Bjorn now, before looking back to me, “I just might be able to get us there, stat.”
“Use Ström’s power, too, now that you can touch it through our bond. He’s a deeper wellspring of magic than you might think, for such a skinny fuck of a drake,” Bjorn says quickly to Baldur, as Baldur nods.
I don’t miss the subtle barb Bjorn’s thrown in there against Baldur, who is also a skinny fuck of a drake like Ström, though taller. Baldur ignores it, focusing on our task; he needs no second urging, as he powers up.
As a mighty storm of auric magic goes seething around the ruined studio, I blink to understand Baldur’s going to try to get us to Copenhagen right the fuck now. There will be no preparation, as his gaze pins me, molten like all the fires of the heavenly cosmos all at once.
All colors are in it now, as Bjorn releases me and rushes to seize our things in our fly-bags from the other room, then hauls ass back. Because Baldur is already going, thrusting his energy out into the Void, as he opens his hands and a thunderclap slams through the space.
It hurls paintings across the room, tossing brushes and paint in a whirlwind, as Baldur snarls in a terrible, vicious roar—something I never expected from him. He hammers his power through all of us now, sweeping us up and seizing all our magic into his auric fist as he powers up to take us through space.
Mikkel’s not in that swipe, as I feel Baldur work hard to exclude my Third Drake, since Mikkel will need all the power he’s got to stay alive right now against the Jarl of Copenhagen and his massive army.
But Baldur has seized Bjorn’s, Ström’s, and my dragons, as we’re all wrenched; Baldur uses not his grace but his raw power now, combined with all of ours, to thrust us through space.
It’s not nice, and it’s not pretty, as we’re all hammered through the weft and weave of worlds, straight to theForgyldt Burhotel. I feel us pop back from the most dreadful portal-traveling experience I’ve ever had, as I fall to my knees on the marble floor of the ruined top-floor suite, wrecked.
I dry heave, I retch; I shiver like someone tried to rip apart my verysoul with that sudden, horrible portaling. Baldur got us here, though, as he dry heaves and collapses beside me on the floor.
Bjorn weathered that awful portaling best; as he crawls to me to check if I’m okay, I nod and swallow down bile. Bjorn crawls to Baldur next. He rolls the leaner man over, so Baldur’s not collapsed upon his face.
Baldur groans as I feel him snap out, unconscious.
“Thatwas impressive.” Ström is already at our sides. He helps me up, then extends a hand to help Bjorn. Now that we’re together again, I feel our massive power-up churning inside Ström’s flesh—and see it, making the crimson tattoo-dragon on his bare chest writhe. “Though… perhaps we shouldn’t repeat such a feat anytime soon.”
“I don’t think we will be able to,” I say now as I kiss Ström, grateful for him, then go back down on one knee to check Baldur.
He’s out, well and cold, as he breathes deep and slow. His body is silent, however, and I already feel his power recovering. Baldur’s gone into some sort of voluntary stasis; I feel how he’s thrust nearly all of himself out into the Void to regroup and recoup all the vast power that spontaneous portaling ripped from him just now.
“He’ll be alright,” I say with a deep instinct as Aesa’s Truthstone hums upon my chest. Checking Baldur’s pulse, I pause.
