Oath of the Broken Sword Chapter 7

Silvershine’s psychic scream ripped through me, a blade of pure agony that had nothing to do with my ears. It was in my bones, my blood, the very air I breathed. The cavernous rage and ancient fear flooded my mind, drowning out the physical roar of the dragon riot around me. *Trapped. The mist… it burns… it whispers…*

“Elia!” Kaela’s shout was a distant thing, barely piercing the storm in my head. Her hand shook my shoulder, her face pale under the smudge of blood on her brow. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, the acrid stench of the purplish mist snapping me back to the nightmare before us. Our ground-running Drakes stamped and snorted, their eyes wide with terror. The Nesting Crags were a chaos of scale and fire. “It’s Silvershine,” I gasped, my voice raw. “She’s in her roost. The mist is getting in. She’s… losing herself.”

Kaela’s eyes narrowed, shifting from my face to the largest, most fortified cavern entrance across the chasm. A heavy iron portcullis was sealed shut, but the sinister purple vapor coiled through its bars like a living thing. “The ancient one? If she breaks loose…”

She didn’t need to finish. If a dragon of Silvershine’s power and_age succumbed to this madness, the entire garrison would be rubble by dawn.

“We have to get to her,” I said, the decision solidifying even as I spoke. The strange heat in my veins, the echo of our brief connection, demanded it. This was more than following or defying orders;

it was a pull I couldn’t ignore.

“How?” Kaela gestured wildly at the battleground between us and the cavern. Frenzied some no larger than Tempest, others massive enough to blot out the sky, locked in combat with knights. Lieutenant Renn’s Ignis was harrying a great brute, drawing its fire away from a group of trapped handlers. “We can’t fly through that.”

“We don’t fly.” My gaze swept the jagged cliff face. “There’s a service ledge. For the handlers. It winds around the outside of the crag. It’s a long climb, but it might be clear.”

Kaela followed my look, a grim line setting on her mouth. “A long, exposed climb. One misstep and we’re dragon food.” She met my eyes again, and I saw the calculation there, the same strategic mind that made her the top recruit. “But it’s the only way. Let’s go.”

We abandoned our Drakes, sending them scattering back toward the barracks with a sharp command. Keeping low, we skirted the edge of the chaos, our backs pressed against the rough mountain rock. The screams of dragons and men were a horrific symphony. I saw a knight thrown from his saddle, his fall swallowed by the mist below. My stomach lurched.

We found the start of the ledge, a narrow, crumbling pathway barely wide enough for one person. Kaela went first, her movements sure and graceful even here. I followed, my heart hammering against my ribs, trying not to look down into the swirling purple abyss.

The climb was an eternity of terrified concentration. The roars and explosions from the main cavern were deafeningly close. Halfway there, a juvenile drake, its eyes glowing with unnatural violet light, scrabbled onto the ledge ahead of us, hissing, acid dripping from its fangs.

Kaela didn’t hesitate. She drew the short sword at her hip. “Stay back, Elia.”

But the heat in my blood surged again. I stepped forward, putting a hand on her arm. “Wait.” I looked at the young dragon, not as a monster, but as a terrified creature. I reached out, not with my hand, but with… something else. A feeling. A memory of the calm I’d felt with Tempest, of the vast stillness of Silvershine. *Peace. Be still.*

The drake faltered. It shook its head, a confused warble escaping its throat. The violet glow in its eyes flickered. For a second, I saw its native intelligence, its fear. Then, with a screech, it launched itself off the ledge and into the sky.

Kaela stared at me, her sword half-lowered. “What was that?”

“I… I don’t know,” I breathed, trembling from the effort. “I just… asked it to leave.”

She sheathed her sword slowly, her expression unreadable. “Later. We talk about this later.”

We reached the great iron gate of Silvershine’s roost. The mist was thicker here, clinging to my skin with a cold, oily feel. Silvershine’s mental cries were a continuous barrage of pain and fragmented memories—ancient wars, shattered stars, a loneliness so profound it stole my breath.

“The lock is magicked,” Kaela said, examining a complex rune-etched mechanism. “I can’t bypass this.”

“We don’t need to.” I placed my hands on the cold bars. I closed my eyes, pushing past my own fear, reaching for that thread of connection. *Silvershine!

* I poured my will into the thought. *It’s me, Elia. We’re here to help. You must calm the storm inside. Help me open the gate.*

For a moment, there was only rage. Then, a flicker of recognition. A shard of that ancient, cold wisdom pierced the madness. *…Thief of moments… child of shattered blood…*

A deep thrum resonated through the metal bars. The intricate runes on the lock flared with silver light, then died. With a groan of protesting metal, the great portcullis began to rise, just enough for us to slide underneath.

The cavern within was vast and dark, illuminated only by the faint, eerie phosphorescence of fungi on the walls. And by Silvershine. The great silver dragon was coiled in the center, her magnificent scales dulled. She thrashed, her tail smashing against stalagmites, her wings beating the air, stirring the mist into frenzied whirlwinds. Her eyes, usually pools of liquid mercury, blazed with the same violent purple as the mist.

“The source,” Kaela whispered, pointing to a cluster of broken ceramic vessels near a natural fissure in the wall. “They pumped it in through there.”

“We need to get her out. Into the clean air.”

“And how do you propose we do that? Ask her nicely?” Kaela’s sarcasm was a thin veil for her fear.

I stepped forward, ignoring the terror that threatened to freeze me solid. “Silvershine!” I yelled, both aloud and with my mind. “Listen to me! Fight it!”

Her massive head swung toward me. A low, dangerous growl rumbled through the cavern. I felt her mind, a roiling sea of ancient instincts poisoned by the mist. *…Betrayal… cages… fire…*

“Elia, get back!” Kaela screamed.

But I stood my ground. I reached for the heat within me, for the fragile bond we had forged. I didn’t try to command her. I showed her. I showed her the memory of the wind in my hair during the tether exercise, the feeling of freedom and trust with Tempest. I pushed images of the clear, cold sky above theires, of the stars untouched by the madness below. *This is real. The mist is a lie. Remember the sky. Remember who you are.*

I poured every ounce of my will into that single thought. The cost was immediate. A sharp, stabbing pain bloomed behind my eyes, and a wave of dizziness washed over me. I tasted copper, felt a trickle of warmth from my nose. *The cost of magic,* a distant part of my mind recalled. *A price paid in blood.*

Silvershine halted her thrashing. Her blazing eyes fixed on me. The purple light in them wavered, contested by a rising silver glow. It was a battle of wills, fought in the silence of our linked minds. Her ancient rage against my desperate empathy.

Then, she staggered. A great, shuddering sigh escaped her, and the violet light in her eyes died away, leaving only her familiar, weary mercury gaze. The madness was gone, replaced by a profound, exhausted clarity.

*…The child bleeds for the ancient…* her thought echoed, laced with something like wonder… and grief. *The debt is noted.*

“The debt can wait,” I gasped, wiping the blood from my upper lip. My legs felt like water. “We need to go. Now.”

We led her out of the cavern. The sight of the calm, majestic Silver emerging from her prison had an immediate effect on the riot below. The frenzy of the other dragons seemed to lessen, their roars turning from mindless rage to confusion. The senior knights, seeing her, redoubled their efforts, now able to concentrate on subduing rather than just surviving.

The battle, or the containment of it, lasted through the night. By the time the first rays of dawn pierced the smoke-hazed sky, an uneasy quiet had fallen over the Wind-Shear Spires. The cost was horrifying. The air of ash and death.

As Kaela and I stood, exhausted and filthy, watching the medics—both human and the gifted healers like apprentice Elijae—tend to the wounded, Lieutenant Renn approached us. His armor was scorched, his face grim.

He didn’t speak for a long moment, his eyes moving from me to Kaela and back. “Recruit Elia. Recruit Kaela.” His voice was hoarse. “Disobeying a direct order to retreat to the barracks is a court-martial offense.”

I braced myself, too tired to even feel fear.

“However,” he continued, his gaze lingering on the now-calm form of Silvershine, being gently guided back to her roost by a team of senior handlers, “preventing the loss of an irreplaceable ancient ally and potentially turning the tide of a catastrophic event… complicates the matter.” He let out a short, sharp breath that was nothing like a laugh. “The Marshal will want a full report. For now… get yourselves to the medical tent. That’s an order you will follow.”

He strode away, barking commands to a group of knights.

Kaela turned to me. “Shattered blood?” she asked quietly, her earlier intensity returning. “What did the dragon mean?”

I looked at my hands, still trembling. The spot of blood from my nose had dried on my lip. The heat in my veins had subsided, leaving a deep, unsettling cold. I had no answer for her. I only knew that the simple life of a border village orphan was gone, shattered as completely as the pottery that had held the mist. I was in the deep end now, and the currents were pulling me toward a destiny I couldn’t begin to understand.