Light Dragons 03 - Sparks Fly

He needs to discuss with Constantine what has to be done to deal with Thala, and there’s no way he’ll do that without me there to nag ... er ... guide him.”
    He laughed as I headed around the side of the building, calling after me in a soft voice, “I’ll go back to town, unless you think you need me here.”
    “No, you go to Nepal. I’m sure Maura could use your help more than we will need you. Thank you for everything, Savian.”
    He saluted me. “A pleasure, as always. Except the arcane blast. I’ll call when we have Maura’s mum to safety.”
    “Godspeed,” I called after him, then made my way through the encroaching forest around one side of the sepulcher, passing Gabriel’s relaxed form on my way. I paused to check that he was all right, then continued on around the far side of the church, where the huge round dome sat over a semicircular bulge of brick and stone columns. In the shadow of one of the columns, I could see the faint images of Baltic and Pavel as they stood together, consulting about something. “Did you set your traps?” I asked when I was close enough for them to hear me.
    “As a matter of fact, I did,” a voice answered, but it didn’t belong to Baltic. It wasn’t even male. I gasped as I spun around, a noise that was cut short as Thala, emerging from the nothing that was the beyond, slapped a hand around my mouth, and before I could so much as blink, wrapped a thin, very sharp wire around my neck. “I didn’t think it would be you I caught, though. However, this will work, too.”
    Baltic glanced toward me, did a double take, and roared his fury to the night sky even as he leaped toward us, a brief glimpse of moonlight shimmering along the white scales that covered his dragon form.
    Thala spun us around so that I was between the two of them, the wire digging painfully into my neck. “This is a razor garrote. Any closer, and I’ll decapitate your mate.”
    That stopped him. He stood just out of reach, softly panting fire.
    “I don’t know what you think you’re going to do here, but you should be aware that we’re not going to let you get away with anything,” I said, being very careful to not move as I spoke. “Nor are we going to let harm come to Violet.”
    She laughed, tightening the wire just enough to make me gasp in pain. I ground back a snarl, keeping my gaze steady on Baltic. “You always were an interfering bitch. Do you really think I care the least about you or Kostich’s daughter? I’m here for one thing only, and nothing will stop me from taking it.”
    Baltic crossed his arms as he returned to human form. “The sword is mine, Thala. It was given to me .”
    “To hold until such time as it was needed again, and that time is now,” she countered, jerking me around until we faced the wall of the sepulcher. The wire, unfortunately, tightened even more. Wetness trickled down my neck and chest as I tried to look out of the corner of my eye to see what Baltic was doing. I knew full well that he wouldn’t allow Thala to slice off my head, but I worried that he might not have the patience to wait to attack her before the others-including Constantine-realized that she had arrived. I prayed that Pavel had slid off around the other way and was warning everyone.
    “And how do you expect to take it?” Baltic inquired, gesturing toward the building. “The archimage has placed much protection on it, mostly arcane, and necromancers have a particular aversion to arcane magic.”
    I felt, rather than saw, Thala’s smile as she said simply, “I am not as weak as you believe, Baltic. I will destroy the sepulcher just as I destroyed your house. I will sing an earth song.”
    In the distance, I heard a shout of alarm as Pavel had evidently reached the others. Thala must have heard it, as well, for without further ado, she opened her mouth and began to sing.
    I have little recollection of the dirge she sang that destroyed our previous house around us, but Baltic told me later it was an air song, a spell that literally exploded the house with a force equivalent to several traditional bombs. I dug through my faulty memory as Thala inhaled and began to sing.
    Dirges, I knew, were a form of dark magic, spoken in the form of a song, and mastered only by those who were very adept. I watched in amazement when black, twisted roots boiled up from the earth around the sepulcher, twisting and twining around the building like so many horrible tentacles, and it was then I