As long as Esprë still lived, there would be hope that she would accompany Sallah back to Thrane. The knight clung to that notion with every bit of her faith. It had brought her here to this observatory, and it had forced her forth to take a stab at a dragon’s tail.
Now, it seemed, it might put out the light that burned within her own soul.
As Xalt dragged Sallah toward the gigantic crystal, she felt the floor behind them shake. The impact of something the size of a small mountain behind her nearly knocked the knight from her feet. She stumbled forward, reaching out for the crystal, wishing she still had her sword in her hand, knowing it would do her no good.
A claw as wide as Sallah was tall slashed across her back, laying open her armor and slicing into the flesh beneath.
The blow slammed her forward, and she slid under the transparent base that held the massive crystal in its place. She scrambled forward on her hands and knees, praying that the dragon would not hit her again.
Sallah didn’t think she could take another blow like the last. It would kill her for sure. A part of her prayed for that to happen, to put an end to her struggles, which seemed to have gone on for so long. To fall in battle in the service of the Silver Flame would ensure that her own light would join with it in the afterlife.
The Flame still burned.
Sallah stopped scrambling when she ran into the observatory’s outer wall, against which the towering crystal sat. As she considered her next move, Xalt pulled her to her feet and turned her around.
Looking through the crystal, she could see something that had to be the dragon queen. It seemed far tinier than could be possible, though, and it took her a moment to realize that the shape of the crystal distorted the creature’s size.
The dragon leaned forward and snarled, almost putting the end of her snout against the crystal. Her image swelled until its bloated face filled the entire crystal, and Sallah’s breath caught in her chest as she waited for the monstrosity to swallow her alive.
But the crystal still stood between her and the dragon. The spaces around the crystal were too small for the dragon to fit through, she could tell. When she noticed this, she started to laugh.
The laughter arose not from humor but relief, but the dragon didn’t take it that way. The creature sat back on her haunches—shrinking again as she did—and bellowed at the lady knight and her warforged companion.
“Perhaps angering it wasn’t such a good idea,” Xalt said.
“She would have killed Kandler,” she said. “It’s too late for recriminations.”
“Or, perhaps, for anything else.”
Sallah had never heard such terror in the unflappable warforged’s voice before. She looked up at the crystal and saw the dragon’s head seem to explode inside it as the creature thrust her snout forward.
Then fire seemed to engulf the entire world.
Sallah screamed, and the effort burned her lungs.
53
“What do you mean no?” Kandler said. He couldn t believe he had heard the word come from Esprë’s mouth.
“Just what I said.” The set of the young elf’s jaw reminded Kandler of her mother at that instant. “I’m not going to run any more, not if it means letting everyone I care about get killed.” Kandler glanced up at the silver dragon looming over him. The creature sat there on his haunches, rubbing his injured eye with a long-taloned claw. Burch’s bolt hadn’t done any real harm to the dragon, just annoyed it.
The justicar grabbed his daughter by the shoulders. “You can’t throw your life away. Every one of us is ready to die for you.”
“Which is exactly the problem,” said Esprë. “I don’t want any of you to do that.”
Kandler gaped at the girl as he stared defiantly at him. “You’re in shock,” he said. “I’m half in shock myself.”
“No,” Esprë said, and Kandler found himself starting to hate the word. “I’m not. I’m seeing things clearly for the first time.” She reached up and held Kandler by the chin. “You need to let me go.”
Kandler felt like his guts might melt out of him. He grabbed her hand and held it tight. “After all we’ve done to take care of you, there’s no way I’m going to let you throw your life away.”
The justicar heard the shifting of the dragon’s massive bulk behind him. The fact that the creature had yet to turn him into a bloody paste was good, but it also meant that Greffykor had decided to watch this argument with Esprë to see who might win. If Kandler failed, the dragon would have no need to kill him.
Which, of course, was Esprë’s point.
“Do you think you’re old enough to make this kind of decision?” Kandler asked.
Esprë’s eyes flared. “It’s time to quit using that argument against me,” she said. “I’m older than you.”
“But still not full grown.” Kandler pointedly looked down at the girl. He knew he was grasping at ghosts here, but it was all he had left. “When your mother and I got married, I swore to her—”
“ ‘That I would always protect you.’ I know. I’ve heard it a million times, but answer me this, Kandler. When did you think that duty would end?”
“Never!” The word surprised Kandler as it leaped from his lips, but he knew it to be the truth.
He’d thought that he would act as aging father to Esprë constant childhood until the day someone slid him into his grave. The idea that she might somehow mature then leave him had failed to enter his mind.
Esprë steamed at Kandler. As she did, he could feel the dragon move behind him. No matter how silently the creature shifted about, he displaced the air around him so much that the justicar could feel it caress his bare neck.
“It ends now,” Esprë said. “I don’t care about the dragonmark any more. I never really did. I didn’t want this damned thing on my back, and it seems like there’s only one way for this torture my life has become to end.”
“I’m not letting you give up on me.”
“I’m not running from my fate,” Esprë said, a wry grin twisting her lips. “I’m embracing it. From the moment that dragonmark appeared on my skin, I was doomed. At least this way I get to choose the how and the why.
“I don’t want to be killed like a trapped rat,” she said. “I want to go out there on my own two feet and tell that bitch of a dragon just what I think of her.”
Kandler nodded as he tried to collect himself. “I understand how you feel,” he said. “I really do. There’s something noble in what you’d like to do.”
“But what?”
“But this is no time for nobility.”
Esprë laughed. “It’s the perfect time.”
“I’m not going to let you do this,” Kandler said.
Esprë peered up at the justicar, tears welling in her eyes. “Don’t make me do it,” she said.
It took Kandler a moment to understand what the girl meant. Then he glanced down at her hands and saw them glowing black.
Kandler felt his heart stop, just for an instant. “Don’t,” he said in a soft voice.
Esprë blinked away the tears, and the blackness grew until Kandler could see it running up and down her arms too. He told himself that she would never hurt him, but he’d never seen her like this before.
“Think about this,” the justicar said. “You’d kill me to save my life? You’re letting your emotions rule you. Use your head.”
“I—I won’t kill you,” Esprë said. “I just want stop you from stopping me. Just let me by. Greffykor will take me to the queen, and this will be all over.”
Kandler looked back over his shoulder at the dragon looming over him. The creature stopped rubbing his eyes and gave him what he probably thought was an understanding smile. The dragon’s breath smelled like ancient ice.