Unleashed (The Brindle Dragon Book 6) Read online

  But he seemed to be in another world entirely, his head resting against her shoulder as his blood poured into her lap. “You don’t understand. I couldn’t… I can’t lose you.”

  Eist dug her fingers in, knowing her nails were digging into his arms, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t let him go!

  The tentacle yanked again, trying to drag him into the light, and Farmad just laughed and laughed from where he was on the ground.

  “Do you see it? This is the glory of our salvation!”

  “Damn your salvation!” Eist screamed back, holding onto Yacrist with all she had. The tentacle pulled them both toward the edge, to the massive, burning pillar of light. Eist didn’t need a spellbook to know that entering it wouldn’t be pleasant for either of them. “Yacrist! Hold onto me, okay? Just keep fighting!”

  “You can’t save him,” Farmad crowed. “He’s been slowly influenced over the past two years—ever since he opened Persinnia’s book! Once these things are started, they cannot be stopped!”

  “I’ll stop it!” Eist screamed right back. She willed all that she had into Yacrist, causing the tentacle to jerk and sizzle, but it didn’t let go.

  “You can’t! Don’t you get it? You—” He stopped short, more black tentacles lashing out from the maelstrom and spearing through him. Unlike Yacrist, however, dark veins grew all over Farmad’s body, pulsating just like the legs. He let out a surprised sort of gasp, then melted into a puddle of that same black liquid that he had used to corrupt so many others before it was pulled into the churning miasma of dark-colored light.

  A soft sputter from Yacrist pulled her attention back to him, and she squeezed even harder. She could feel something wet and warm spilling from his mouth and down the collar of her tunic. She was fairly certain that it was blood, but she couldn’t waste her thoughts on that.

  Bit by bit, they were pulled closer until they were both on their feet, the pillar of light just feet from them. Eist was faintly aware that she was crying, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. The only thing that mattered was holding onto Yacrist.

  She was never going to let him go.

  The wind whipping around them increased in speed, and they were picked up off their feet, the tentacle giving a mighty yank as they went airborne.

  “Eist, no!”

  Strong hands gripped her back and yanked as hard as they could toward safety. That, combined with the tentacle yanking Yacrist away from her, broke her grip. She could only watch as her friend, her companion, a man that maybe she could have been in love with someday, was snapped up into the pillar of energy in the blink of an eye.

  And just like that, the contained energy erupted outward and she was thrown back into oblivion.

  8

  Loss

  Eist awoke to the entire temple shaking violently. She was splayed across the floor, Athar half on top of her and Fior blocking most of her vision. Blearily, she pushed herself up.

  Everything hurt.

  It hurt so badly.

  “Fior?” she whispered, trying to place what had happened. Maybe Yacrist wasn’t gone. The last time she had seen her best friend and her dragon get thrown into a portal, both of them had come back alright.

  Maybe that could happen again.

  A low, threatening growl sounded from Fior, urging Eist to her feet. She managed to get upright just as the pillar of light faded into the ground. In response, the temple stopped shaking and there was a moment of quiet.

  “Fior, what’s going on?”

  Her dragon just growled again, his head down low as if tensing to pounce, but a bright laugh caught Eist off guard.

  “Huh, this was not what I was expecting.”

  That voice.

  No.

  It wasn’t possible.

  Eist stumbled forward, using Fior’s back as support, and saw Yacrist both happy and whole in front of her.

  “Yacrist!” she cried, not caring that her voice cracked.

  She ran toward him—as best she could, given her state—with her arms outstretched. He was alright! Somehow, he was alright! He had survived and—

  —felt completely and undeniably wrong.

  She slowed to a stop still outside of the circle he had been yanked back to…something.

  “Can you believe it?” Yacrist asked, smiling so brightly she was almost blinded. So much energy was churning just below his skin. The type of energy that no one should have. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good in my life!”

  He took another step forward, and Eist felt rooted to the spot. She was so incredibly happy to see her friend back, but she couldn’t ignore every single one of her senses telling her that something was wrong.

  Dangerously wrong.

  “Oh man, Eist, I have so much to explain to you,” Yacrist continued happily, taking another step toward her. “We got so much wrong. I mean, wow, it’s a lot. But I can see so much more now. I can’t wait to show you! We’ve got a lot to make right, but now I feel like I can actually do it! And I’m strong enough to protect you now, Eist. Isn’t that great?” There was something just borderline possessive in his tone, something that made her wish that she could hear like most people so she could figure out if she was imagining it or not. But she still stood, staring at her friend who should be dead or tumbling through time or something, and he just took another step toward her.

  Suddenly, Athar was between them, the blade of his broadsword raised. Yacrist paused, and the expression on his face grew dark.

  “What are you doing?”

  Athar didn’t answer, just stood his ground and gave Gaius enough time to slink up beside Fior, joining in his protective stance.

  “Oh, I get it,” Yacrist let out a laugh that was so sour, so bitter, that Eist recoiled. That wasn’t the type of sound her friend would make. Not at all. “You’re jealous, aren’t you, big man?”

  Yacrist only took a step, and yet somehow, he rushed forward so that he was right in front of Athar, mouth wide in a malicious gin. “Well, she’s not yours!” He set his hand on the middle of Athar’s chest, and the young man was blasted over her head and into the air.

  Eist let out a shout for Fior to catch him, but Yacrist just laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

  “What in the Veil is wrong with you?” Ain spat, stumbling to his feet. Eist guessed that he had just woken up and had missed the previous theatrics. “How are you alive?”

  “S-stay away from him,” Athar groaned, trying to pick himself up from the ground where Fior had set him. “He’s been corrupted.”

  Yacrist didn’t seem to like that. “Me? Corrupted? It must seem that way to you, you pathetic parasite,” he sneered, and Eist felt her stomach churn harder. “You’ve always wanted her, haven’t you? Always been lurking in the background, pining after her like some hulking brute. It’s pathetic. I should just end you right now!”

  He lifted his hand, and Eist felt the immense power in him bear down on the whole room. She didn’t even have a moment to think, she just jumped forward and stood in front of the giant of a man.

  “Eist, don’t,” Athar wheezed, struggling to get to his feet even with Ain helping him. “Get Dille and run.”

  “Why would she run?” Yacrist asked, blue eyes sparkling. “She’s with me now. Right where she belongs. Isn’t that right, Eist?”

  She swallowed, sensing that whatever she said now would have a very large impact on if she could save all of her friends or not. Because she didn’t want to believe what was happening in front of her.

  The strange thing in front of her wasn’t really Yacrist. It was something that could be fixed. Solved. He was just under some spell, and all spells could be broken.

  “I belong with my friends. All of them,” she murmured cautiously. “So let’s all go to the healers and clean up, huh?”

  “Healers?” Yacrist snorted. “You don’t get it yet, do you? I’m not sick, Eist. I’m better. Better than I’ve ever been in my life. And I want you to feel this way!”


  “Don’t touch him!”

  Eist looked over her shoulder to see Dille fighting to stand. Her head was still bleeding slightly, but she looked at least slightly coherent. “He’s been possessed by the Blight!”

  “Oh, please, I haven’t been possessed,” Yacrist said with a snort. “That’s like what happened with little Persinnia. No, I haven’t been possessed. I’ve been chosen as its vessel. Its holy body to complete its purpose. And I gotta tell ya…” His gaze settled on Eist and he looked so happy that she could cry. “It truly is a spectacular purpose. Let me show you, please.”

  He reached for her, and Eist could only stare at him, completely in shock.

  The Blight was…in Yacrist?

  No.

  That couldn’t be.

  That wasn’t possible!

  Not only had she failed and let the Blight into the world, but now it had the body of her friend since her first year.

  But did it really have his body? It mostly seemed like Yacrist when he talked. Yeah, sure, there were some idiosyncrasies that were out of place, but on the whole, it still looked like him.

  And yet she couldn’t deny that it absolutely did not feel like him.

  What did that mean, though? And what in the name of the Three was she supposed to do?

  “Yacrist…” She licked her lips. “This isn’t right.”

  He shrugged. “Look, I know that this will probably take a bit for you to understand, but you can trust me.” He extended his hand to her. “You’ve always been able to trust me.”

  Eist looked down at his offered hand then back up to his handsome face. She wasn’t tempted, even in the slightest, but she didn’t know what to do. She wanted to save him. There had to be a way to turn everything around, but she wasn’t sure how to play this to keep him steady.

  “Don’t touch her!”

  She felt air being moved beside her head, and suddenly a shortsword was whipping past her and heading straight for Yacrist’s chest.

  It stopped just short of his body, then turned around, flying right back toward Athar. Eist quickly moved into its path, her mouth moving of its own accord.

  “Yacrist! Stop!”

  The blade clattered to the floor, and Eist let out a breath. She looked up from the weapon with hope in her eyes. Yacrist was still in there, he wouldn’t hurt her. But instead of seeing any sort of kindness, she only saw pure, unadulterated rage.

  “Stand aside, Eist.”

  “You know that I won’t do that. I can’t do that.”

  It was like someone had pulled the cork from a bottle and Yacrist’s face cracked into the most vicious snarl she had ever seen.

  “So you would choose him over me!? ME! I’ve been with you from the beginning! Who is he but a barely-noble idiot who can’t even speak!”

  Yacrist swung toward her, his hands reaching out as if it wanted to grab her hair and yank it, but she jumped back.

  “Stop it! This isn’t you!”

  “Oh, it is me. It’s me in the best form I could ever be. And if you’re too stupid to see that, that’s fine. I can show you in time. You’re mine, Eist. You’ve always been mine, ever since the first day I saw you, and these idiots aren’t going to stop that.”

  The ground crackled below her, the only warning sign before more tentacles shot up. They tried to cage her in, but she dove to the side before they could wrap around her extremities.

  Fior was on them in a moment, snatching them up in his teeth and ripping them right in half. Before Eist could even get to her feet, he whirled on Yacrist and his jaws opened up as wide as they could go.

  “What do you think you’re gonna do, little guy?” Yacrist asked with a chuckle, taking another step forward.

  But Fior just drew in a deep breath and let out another mighty roar.

  It was different than the one she had seen with Farmad. Even different than the ones in battle. There was an unhinged sort of desperation to it that she could feel down into her core, and it terrified her.

  Yacrist’s form rippled and bucked, the inkiness of the Blight washing over his features as Fior gave it all that he could. Running up to him, Eist pressed her hand to her dragon’s spine and poured all of the energy she had within her through Fior.

  Like most times, she had no idea what she was doing. She was just acting on some instinct that she didn’t understand. But almost immediately, Fior’s scales began to glow in brilliant shades of copper, gold and onyx, rolling along his body until the light reached his mouth.

  And then Eist finally saw how Fior had made such a difference in the first great war. Instead of just the pressure and force coming out of his mouth, a brilliant beam of pure, crystal light shot out.

  It hit Yacrist with an indescribable force, driving him to his knees and to the ground. Then further into the ground. Then deeper into the ground until the entire thing started to give way.

  “Come on!” Ain said, trying to grab her hand, but Eist yanked it away. “We need to get out of here!”

  “All of you go,” Eist ordered, not letting her sight leave the shaking, crumbling hole that they were driving Yacrist into. She could see tentacles trying to reach up, scrambling to find purchase, but the moment’s Fior’s light hit them, they would burst into ash. “You get to your dragons and you fly away as fast and as hard as you can. This won’t hold him for long.”

  “Eist, you can’t—”

  She cut Athar off before he could finish that thought. “I’m not sacrificing myself. I’ll make it out, I promise. But you all have to go.”

  Thankfully, they all listened to her, although she could feel Athar hesitate. She couldn’t risk looking away to check on him, however. She had already failed far too much lately, she wouldn’t do that here.

  There was scuffling as she assumed Ain got the battered Dille onto Gaius, ordering him to go while he and Athar scrambled up the stairs. She also felt when their presences left the room, which was shaking more and more.

  “Don’t stop,” Eist whispered to Fior. “You hold him until we can’t, okay?”

  He didn’t answer, but she knew that he could hear her. They really had been destined for each other, she just never understood how much until she saw him glowing with the power her blood had inside of her.

  The cracked floor under them sagged, and Eist felt her weight start to drop into the chasm opening up behind them. It would only be seconds until the entire temple crashed down around her for the second time.

  “Fior! Now!” she cried, leaping onto his back.

  Although he was full-grown, only her dragon could have spun on a coin and shot right toward the crumbling entrance. Up, up, up they went through the ridiculously long stairs, until they vaulted out into the night sky, a cloud of debris bursting behind them as the temple finished caving in.

  Night? It had still been daylight when they had first traversed down there. How much time had passed? Or did it work differently down in the bowels of such a sacred place where so much magic had already gone awry?

  It didn’t matter, really. Because what was done was done, and she quickly realized that her friends were still on the ground.

  Fior and her landed fairly hard, and she was nearly thrown from his back. When she recovered, she slid to the ground and approached them.

  “What’s going on here?!” she cried, completely full of panic. Who knew how long Yacrist would be held by how far down they sent him? She bet it wouldn’t be very long. “What are you—”

  The group parted and she saw Allynbach pressed to the ground, sobbing as only a dragon could. It was an awful, barking sound that made Eist’s stomach clench up.

  “Oh, Allynbach, no. It’s alright. We’re going to get him back, I swear.” She approached the purple dragon, her hands held up for the nose scratches that both of their heads loved so much, but they both snapped at her. They might have even taken her hands had Veralda not batted them away with her tail.

  He didn’t seem to like that, and he slashed at the dragon he had always seeme
d to have a crush on before skittering to the collapsed staircase. He rested on top of the rubble, glaring at them like they were the ones who had murdered Yacrist.

  But he wasn’t murdered.

  Yacrist wasn’t dead. She just had to remind herself of that. He wasn’t dead, so there was still a chance to save him. She didn’t give up on people.

  “I don’t th-think he’s going to come with us,” Athar said, sounding just as pained as Eist felt.

  “We can’t just leave him here!” Dille argued woozily from where she was atop Veralda. “He’s one of us.”

  Eist sighed. She was just so tired. Defeated. There was always one more thing, wasn’t there? Always one more way their lives could get a little worse. “We can’t make him go either.”

  Abruptly, Ain drew his bow and stepped around them, aiming it toward one of Allynbach’s eyes. Eist’s heart jumped in alarm and she held up both of her hands in warning.

  “What are you doing!?”

  “We can’t let Yacrist have him either. A two-headed dragon that can manipulate water is too great of a resource to just hand over.”

  “You can’t,” Eist breathed, not believing that she was in another stressful situation all over again. Hadn’t she just had her friend ripped from her arms and taken over as a vessel?

  “You can’t. I’ll be the one who’s alright with doing what they have to. If we need a bad guy, I’ve played that part before.”

  “No, I really mean you can’t.” Eist dropped her defensive posture and placed her hand gently on his shoulder. “I know you like to play careless and tough, but I know you, Ain. And I don’t think you can murder our friend’s dragon in cold blood while it’s mourning.”

  “Really? You don’t think so?” He nocked two bolts at once and aimed them square at the dragon again. He hesitated, as if he expected Eist to stop him, but she didn’t. She just watched, hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing comfortable circles.

  Watched and waited.

  And waited.

  He lasted several breaths before he finally let out an enraged cry and shot both bolts far into the distance. They sailed through the air before burying themselves in a tree.