Battle for Cymmera. Dani-Lyn Alexander
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Ranger shrugged. “They didn’t seem to know much. They were taken from the human realm and put to work enlarging the opening in the mountain.”
Men who’d lived in the human realm, suddenly snatched from their existence and thrown into the harsh realities of another realm, complete with sorcerers, monsters, and fire-breathing dragons.
“All right.” He would assume responsibility for those men. He couldn’t very well leave them out there to fend for themselves, but he couldn’t take strangers back to Cymmera. He had enough traitors in Cymmera without adding the possibility of more. Someone would have to explain the situation to them and offer them the opportunity to pledge allegiance and become citizens. His people were in charge of Argonas at the moment. He’d have to trust them to take care of it. “Choose four Death Dealers to take the prisoners to Argonas and leave them at the castle.”
“Should they return after?”
Elijah had told him to go to the highest peak, yet a large chunk had been carved out of the shattered mountain. Had Thaddeus foreseen Jackson’s mission and changed the course of history? If Thaddeus had interfered, Elijah’s visions could be irrelevant now.
Something gnawed at his gut. It could be the effects of the snow. Despite his best efforts, some had gotten into his mouth. Or it could be something else. The urgency to return to Cymmera hit him hard. “No. Have them return to Cymmera. We’ll clean up here, then figure out what to do, but I don’t want them coming back out here if we’re gone. Send Vaughn to help Dakota.”
“Yes, sir.” He jogged toward the others.
Jackson squeezed Dakota’s shoulder. “I’m going to leave Vaughn to help heal Draco. I want you two ready to go as soon as I get back.”
“Where are you going?”
The smoldering remains of the camp Thaddeus had been running lay in ruins across the mountain. “To figure out what’s going on.”
Leaving Dakota and Vaughn, Jackson and the remaining Death Dealers returned to the rubble filled clearing. They left the dragons outside the clearing, where they could be summoned if needed but be out of harm’s way. Dragons weren’t as easily healed as other creatures, and he didn’t want any more injured.
“What do you think it is?” Ranger stood beside him, hand resting on the sword sheathed at his side.
He had no clue. “Let’s explore the cave. With any luck at all, we’ll find Thaddeus and Chayce holed up in there.”
He doubted it, but he had to check. When he’d picked his way over the last of the debris, he unsheathed his sword and approached the gaping hole the explosion had torn in the mountain. If there’d been a discernable path leading through the mountain, it had been destroyed or covered by rubble. He climbed a pile of rocks partially blocking their way.
No light penetrated the dank cavern, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the complete blackness. His feet tingled, numb from the cold. As he crept through the dark, sword ready, his stomach lurched, bile surging up the back of his throat. He didn’t think he’d swallowed enough snow to make him sick, but the farther he descended into the mountain, the more his stomach churned.
A face hovered in front of him. The grotesque frozen mask of one of the ice creatures.
He sheathed his sword and grabbed his bow, nocking an arrow as he took aim at the creature’s head.
The monster remained frozen in place, seemingly suspended in the darkness.
No, not suspended.
The tunnel curved away from the wall where the creature was encased in a thick block of ice.
Jackson kept his back against the opposite wall as he tried to make sense of what they’d uncovered.
A long row of ice-encased creatures, some fully formed, others only partially so.
“What do you think?”
Jackson jumped, startled by Ranger’s whisper against his ear. He shook his head. He had no idea what to think.
Something was wrong. He focused on the sounds around him. The harsh breaths of the other Death Dealers, the scrape of a boot against a rock, the soft brush of fabric as someone shifted position.
A low hum vibrated beneath his feet. Definitely not mechanical, but not natural, either. Magic! “Destroy it all.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Destroy it. Everything.” He strode toward the hole they’d entered. “Burn it. Now.”
“Jackson.”
He kept walking.
Ranger jogged to catch up. “You can’t be serious. We don’t even know what it is.”
“Can’t you feel it?” Tendrils of evil slid through his mind, visions of death and destruction bombarded him. “Whatever this is”—he gestured at the space surrounding them—“it’s not natural.”
“Are you sure?”
His gut cramped. The intensity of the need to flee, to escape the stench of death, beat at him. “Positive. Burn it to the ground. All of it.”
Ranger let it drop as they returned for the dragons. Jackson had no doubt he’d follow the orders, and he didn’t hold it against him for asking questions. Ranger was a good man, a good soldier, and a good friend.
Using the dragon-fire, they leveled the entire compound, spraying flames throughout the underground chambers, destroying everything in their path.
He needed to speak with Elijah. Thaddeus had become too powerful, and he’d obviously embraced some kind of dark magic. They had to stop him. Now. The sudden certainty Thaddeus posed more of a threat than Chayce started as a small niggle at the back of his mind. It quickly flared to a pressing urgency, an intense need to return to Cymmera. Whatever army Thaddeus was creating beneath the mountain could never be unleashed.
With the camp destroyed, he returned to Dakota.
Ophidian perched on a protruding section of boulders.
Jackson climbed down and jogged toward his partner. “How’s Draco?”
“He’s good to go. Not perfect, but he can fly back to Cymmera. Then I’ll get him a healer.”
“Good.” Indecision beat at him.
Elijah had been so specific about when to open the scroll, but what if he hadn’t predicted Thaddeus’s role? And what if he had? A large chunk of the mountain had been destroyed. A good portion of land lay burning and in ruins. The fires would eventually burn themselves out. The miles and miles of ice, snow, and water beneath the frozen surface of the lake would keep them from spreading to civilization.
He slid into a crevice in the side of the mountain, took the scroll from his satchel, and unrolled it. He suppressed the guilt. “I’m sorry, Elijah.”
Ranger and Dakota hunched over facing him, doing their best to block the wind from tearing the scroll from his grasp.
He unrolled it a little at a time, keeping a firm grip on the rolled portions, blocking as much of the wind as possible with his back, and read.
My Dearest Son,
I have been deeply honored to serve Cymmera these past centuries, interpreting the sights I am gifted with to the best of my ability in order to protect my kingdom. For the first time in my existence, I have manipulated events in an attempt to alter the future, hoping to avoid the visions that have haunted me of late. Forgive me.
“Oh, Elijah. What have you done?” Jackson quickly unrolled another section of the note.
You are a son to me, Jackson. And, as any parent would protect their child, I have done my best to protect you. I’ve done all I can to change your destiny, to alter your fate as I saw it play out in my visions again and again.