Read Online Dragon Age: Last Flight by Liane Merciel - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Liane Merciel
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of the darkspawn’s breath. She braced herself for a torrent of violet energy, but none came.
Its exhalation, this time, was a vortex of pure death.
What the Archdemon spat at them was unquestionably magic, but it was like none Isseya had ever encountered. There was no sense of the Fade in its spell; nothing in the realm of dream or nightmare could have encompassed what the Archdemon made.
It was a cyclone of darkness both spiritual and physical. Hungry winds dragged them toward its maw, even as spectral ones tore at the vibrancy of their lives. Isseya could feel the Archdemon’s vortex draining her strength, and the closer it drew them, the stronger it became. If they were pulled much closer, they’d be crushed—and dead long before that.
There was nothing she could do to stop it. Revas was fighting the vortex with everything she had, but the griffon was steadily losing. Feathers ripped from her wings and spiraled into the darkness. Their glossy raven barbs paled to frail white skeletons; their healthy pink calami drained to dead pale hollows. Isseya could see her own hands turning white as the vortex sucked them in. On its other side, Crookytail was fighting, and losing, the same battle.
Calien struggled to rise on the gray-and-white griffon’s back. His feathered hood whipped off his head and was lost to the vortex; he had to clutch his staff desperately with both hands to keep hold. The pouches tied to his belt tore away in a flash, swirling and vanishing along with Crookytail’s larger wing primaries and tufts of soft white down. But the mage persevered, and the shimmering blue lines of a crushing prison formed in the air around the Archdemon.
The spell was nowhere near strong enough to hold an Old God. The Archdemon was pinned for only a heartbeat in its grasp; then its scaled bulk shook the magic off like so much rainwater. The prison’s outline shuddered, breaking apart.
But it lasted long enough for Calien to hit it with a second spell.
Isseya couldn’t see what he cast. Her vision was growing blurry as the vortex neared. She couldn’t focus on anything harder than breathing, which was rapidly becoming impossible. The air was sucked back out of her lungs before she could draw it in again.
She felt the shockwave, though. Whatever Calien threw at the Archdemon caused the waning vestiges of his first spell to explode in a massive nova of concussive force. It knocked both griffons from the vortex and sent them spinning helplessly through the sky, tumbling away from the Archdemon far faster than any of them could have flown.
Isseya’s head snapped back as if she’d been punched by an ogre. Blood filled her mouth, threatening to choke her as she fought to breathe again. She spat it out desperately, grabbing on to her saddle with one hand and clinging to her staff with the other. Amadis’s arms were a girdle of crushing iron around her waist. Around and around they spun, sideways and upside down, falling all the while—and then, finally, dizzyingly, right side up again, as Revas panted and strained to level off her flight.
She did it, barely. They were far below where they’d started. Only a few hundred feet separated them from the ground; Isseya shuddered to think how close they’d come to crashing.
Full night had fallen, and with the Blight’s perpetual storm clouds blotting out the stars, it was impossible to distinguish the darkspawn horde from the rest of the desolate land. Antiva City glowed in the distance, though, its walls holding in the light like a cursed cup of flame.
Maker only knew how many others had died that night, but it seemed that they, at least, had escaped.
“Land,” Isseya told her griffon. She was too tired, and too shaken, to contemplate flying anymore tonight.
Their survival had been a miracle. Finding Wycome would be another. And she wasn’t inclined to ask the Maker for more than one miracle in a day.
6
9:41 D RAGON
Two months after the Hossberg mages
Its exhalation, this time, was a vortex of pure death.
What the Archdemon spat at them was unquestionably magic, but it was like none Isseya had ever encountered. There was no sense of the Fade in its spell; nothing in the realm of dream or nightmare could have encompassed what the Archdemon made.
It was a cyclone of darkness both spiritual and physical. Hungry winds dragged them toward its maw, even as spectral ones tore at the vibrancy of their lives. Isseya could feel the Archdemon’s vortex draining her strength, and the closer it drew them, the stronger it became. If they were pulled much closer, they’d be crushed—and dead long before that.
There was nothing she could do to stop it. Revas was fighting the vortex with everything she had, but the griffon was steadily losing. Feathers ripped from her wings and spiraled into the darkness. Their glossy raven barbs paled to frail white skeletons; their healthy pink calami drained to dead pale hollows. Isseya could see her own hands turning white as the vortex sucked them in. On its other side, Crookytail was fighting, and losing, the same battle.
Calien struggled to rise on the gray-and-white griffon’s back. His feathered hood whipped off his head and was lost to the vortex; he had to clutch his staff desperately with both hands to keep hold. The pouches tied to his belt tore away in a flash, swirling and vanishing along with Crookytail’s larger wing primaries and tufts of soft white down. But the mage persevered, and the shimmering blue lines of a crushing prison formed in the air around the Archdemon.
The spell was nowhere near strong enough to hold an Old God. The Archdemon was pinned for only a heartbeat in its grasp; then its scaled bulk shook the magic off like so much rainwater. The prison’s outline shuddered, breaking apart.
But it lasted long enough for Calien to hit it with a second spell.
Isseya couldn’t see what he cast. Her vision was growing blurry as the vortex neared. She couldn’t focus on anything harder than breathing, which was rapidly becoming impossible. The air was sucked back out of her lungs before she could draw it in again.
She felt the shockwave, though. Whatever Calien threw at the Archdemon caused the waning vestiges of his first spell to explode in a massive nova of concussive force. It knocked both griffons from the vortex and sent them spinning helplessly through the sky, tumbling away from the Archdemon far faster than any of them could have flown.
Isseya’s head snapped back as if she’d been punched by an ogre. Blood filled her mouth, threatening to choke her as she fought to breathe again. She spat it out desperately, grabbing on to her saddle with one hand and clinging to her staff with the other. Amadis’s arms were a girdle of crushing iron around her waist. Around and around they spun, sideways and upside down, falling all the while—and then, finally, dizzyingly, right side up again, as Revas panted and strained to level off her flight.
She did it, barely. They were far below where they’d started. Only a few hundred feet separated them from the ground; Isseya shuddered to think how close they’d come to crashing.
Full night had fallen, and with the Blight’s perpetual storm clouds blotting out the stars, it was impossible to distinguish the darkspawn horde from the rest of the desolate land. Antiva City glowed in the distance, though, its walls holding in the light like a cursed cup of flame.
Maker only knew how many others had died that night, but it seemed that they, at least, had escaped.
“Land,” Isseya told her griffon. She was too tired, and too shaken, to contemplate flying anymore tonight.
Their survival had been a miracle. Finding Wycome would be another. And she wasn’t inclined to ask the Maker for more than one miracle in a day.
6
9:41 D RAGON
Two months after the Hossberg mages
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