Gates of Ruin (Magelands Eternal Siege, #6) by Christopher Mitchell (ebook reader for surface pro txt) 📕

harness grip, and noticed that they were scalded and shaking. Her clothes were ruined from the flames, and she started to feel the pain from the burns she had received.

‘Go back to your father,’ Sanguino said to Ashfall, ‘and bear him the news. I shall follow on in a moment, and I shall deliver the head of Grimsleep to Deathfang as I swore I would.’

Ashfall tilted her head again, then beat her grey wings and soared away to the west. Sanguino sagged as soon as she had departed, as if exhaustion and pain were about to overcome him.

‘Deepblue,’ said Sable. ‘Maddie and Millen are up on the cliff, as they too wished to witness the fall of Grimsleep. Please bring them down here, and be careful; humans are very fragile.’

‘I shall,’ she said, then took off.

‘My rider,’ Sanguino said once they were alone; ‘without you, none of this could have happened. You are bonded to me now, and I to you. I never thought it possible that I could love a human, but I love you. Promise me that you will be my rider forever.’

‘I promise.’

‘And I make this promise to you; I will protect you, always. You are mine.’

Deepblue returned, a human clasped in each forelimb, and set them down gently next to Sanguino. Maddie ran towards the dark red dragon, and clambered up the harness as quickly as she could. She stared at Sable for a moment, her eyes wide, then threw her arms around her.

‘Ouch,’ groaned Sable. ‘Careful. I got a little bit scorched back there.’

‘A little bit?’ said Maddie. ‘Malik’s ass, Sable, that was insane. You are insane.’

Millen joined them, and they strapped themselves into the harness.

‘Are you ready?’ said Sable.

‘I am,’ said Sanguino.

He gripped onto Grimsleep’s gigantic head with his forelimbs, as Deepblue soared upwards to join Broadwing, who was circling overhead.

‘Let’s go home,’ said Sable. ‘We’ll take the head to Deathfang, and after that, I think I might need to go for a little lie down.’

Chapter 9

The Vow

A lea Tanton, Tordue, Western Khatanax – 12th Luddinch 5252

Belinda walked into Leksandr’s study, and the demigod courtier closed the door behind her. The room was in semi-darkness, with the shutters closed to keep out the bright sunshine. The Sixth Ascendant was sitting on the floor in front of the Sextant, his eyes closed.

‘You asked for me?’ said Belinda.

Leksandr said nothing. Belinda frowned and remained where she was, watching the Ascendant for any signs of movement. His chest was rising and falling, but he seemed to be deep in meditation.

‘Leksandr?’

Nothing. Belinda sighed and sat down on one of the chairs by the wall. She had been summoned, no doubt, to provide an update on her search for a Quadrant related to the salve world, but perhaps he had forgotten. She glanced around the room, then settled in the chair to wait.

Her thoughts went to Silva, and she wondered how her great granddaughter’s search was going. She had been contacting her most days, and during the previous morning had spoken to her after she had arrived by ship in Capston in the Southern Cape. The rumours swirling around the town all said that Belinda had surrendered to the old enemy, and that the rebellion was finally at an end; and the news had saddened Belinda. Silva’s spirits remained high, however, and her mission had given her new purpose. Belinda had ensured that the vision gods and demigods who were sweeping the continent looking for Kelsey had finished with the Southern Cape, and she had directed them to move their search northwards to Kinell, starting with its capital Kin Dai. Belinda’s own search had also moved there, after she had re-visited the cavern of Fordamere by vision. It had been painful to gaze upon the unburied bodies of the slaughtered Fordians that littered the streets and plazas of the Yoneath, and her hatred of the Ascendants had grown. Within the cavern itself, she had followed the tunnels where she had seen Van and Sohul take Corthie, but beyond that the trail had gone cold.

Aside from the searches, the rulers of Old Alea had been occupied with the aftermath of the great earthquake that had struck twenty days previously. Thousands had died; exactly how many, no one would ever know, as no regular census was maintained in the city, and the slums that had been affected were inhabited by untold numbers of the poor. Tens of thousands had been rendered homeless, not only by the earthquake, but by the devastating fires that had raged for days, incinerating entire districts. With winter looming, starvation was going to finish off many more, but neither Arete nor Leksandr seemed concerned by the toll on mortal lives; keeping the population pliant and under control was of far more importance to them. Both the Bloodflies and the Blue Thumbs had hosted games since then, in an attempt to persuade everyone that normality had been restored, but the city granaries were almost empty, and the free food dole had been suspended. Soldiers were being recruited rapidly, in expectation of the riots that would inevitably follow once the markets ran out of anything to sell.

She began to grow impatient, and sent a tendril of her vision powers across the room to Leksandr. His eyes were closed, leaving her unable to access his mind, not that she would have been brave enough to do it. She stood, and paced the room for a moment, then her eyes caught on a wall display above the cold hearth. A round iron shield was pinned to the wall, and below it was an old sword. She swallowed, her gaze going from the sword to Leksandr. She walked to the hearth before she could stop herself, her steps light. The sword looked like it hadn’t been moved from the wall in many years, and the blade was tarnished and stained.

It would still work, she told herself. Leksandr was unarmed, and oblivious to her presence. She remembered the promise she had made