The Seventh Magic (Book 3) by Brian Rathbone Read Free Book Online

struck down feral dragons, only to have more take their place. Nearly overwhelmed, Pelivor guarded her back, wielding light like a whip.
    In near silence, ferals harrying them, Jehregard glided back to the Noonspire. Kenward didn't know what they wanted with him, Farsy, Onin, and Jehregard, but his imagination created horrific visions of mad sorcerers trapping them all within the towering crystal prison. More likely, they were meant as a distraction or a price to be paid.
    When Kyrien dived straight toward the spire, feral dragons blocking his path, Catrin stole Kenward's breath. Lighting up from within, she released the straps and dived from atop Kyrien.
    The dragon pulled up, Pelivor still fighting from his back, but then a blinding flash emanated from the spire. The blast wave nearly knocked the bumblebee loose. Onin's grip kept them in place, but his white knuckles made no promises.
     
    * * *
     
    Seeing Jessub and the howler fall from the Portly Dragon put Bryn's heart in his throat. He'd sacrificed his life to see the young man saved, and it looked as if he'd failed. Screaming and the howl of thrust proved him wrong a moment later as Jessub sailed past, moving up and out of the chasm. Part of him wanted Jessub to come back for him, but it would do no good. The Portly Dragon imploded upon the Noonspire. Pulling himself along the coarse deck, trying to get as far from the boiler house as possible, Bryn feared he simply delayed the inevitable. It might be far less painful and agonizing to jump into the gap and fall to his death, but life had a tenacious grip, and he wasn't ready to give up.
    When the boiler house blew, he feared he'd made a mistake. Getting behind a collapsing wind sock, Bryn avoided the fiery blast. The next detonation split the ship into pieces and rattled the world. His ears ringing and his eyes watering, Bryn fell. His descent ended as abruptly as it began. When his senses returned, he found himself resting on a mostly deflated wind sock stretched between two wooden planks. One end rested on the architecture of the outer column; the other end hissed and popped from contact with the Noonspire itself. Even with his thoughts clouded, Bryn knew his situation was deadly.
    Whispers emerged, growing louder and more insistent.
    Come closer.
    Yes . . . closer.
    Bryn closed his eyes, hoping they would go away. They did not. He could feel the energy emanating from the crystal and reaching out toward him. It pulled at his spirit, tugging his soul.
    "A mere morsel, this one," the first voice said. It was impossible for Bryn to tell male from female. He didn't suppose it mattered.
    "A tasty morsel."
    Bryn didn't care for being described as tasty. His head pounded as the energy continued to assault him, steadily leeching the life from him. He hadn't realized how much closer he'd gotten to the Noonspire, and Bryn pulled himself away with great effort.
    "A will, this one has."
    "A tasty will."
    "I am not tasty!" Bryn shouted, holding his hands over his ears. The voices laughed loudly in his mind, proving he was helpless before them and could do nothing to keep them out. He should just give up and let them take control. It would be so much easier. No more decisions. No more heartbreak. His reflection gleamed in the Noonspire, and Bryn realized he'd moved closer without intending to. Pushing himself backward, he tried to get away, but the energy clung more tightly now, as if tiny hooks dug more and more deeply into his very spirit.
    "The struggle makes it more painful."
    "The struggle makes it tastier!"
    Screaming, Bryn pulled himself forcefully away. It felt as if his body moved but his soul remained, snared by Aggrezjhon and Murden, their names seared into his memory. His insignificance amusing, they dominated him. Claimed by numbness, Bryn was lost.
    A terrible roar split the air. He barely noticed. Wind buffeted him, almost throwing him from the canvas. The ends contacting the Noonspire glowed orange, and flames