Light Dragons 03 - Sparks Fly

realized the full power of the earth dirge.
    The noise issuing from Thala was horrible, a low, grating sound that seemed to be made up of tormented screams from the very depths of the earth, tortured and tainted by darkness, filled with hopelessness, scraping away bits of my soul as it continued to urge the earth itself to destroy that which had been made by man.
    The roots wrapped around the building, and with one final swelling of Thala’s song, exploded outward in a flying mass of bricks, stone, and wood.
    Centuries of dust, decay, and despair filled the air, swirling around us in a dense cloud, choking the lungs and vision. The garrote dug in even deeper as I coughed, my eyes widening when the cloud started to dissipate. Behind me, I could hear the sounds of people approaching, and the cries asking for an explanation of what just happened.
    “What the-” Aisling’s sentence ended in a violent attack of coughing as she approached.
    “Hmm,” Baltic said, waving his hand through the air to clear the air of dust as he eyed what remained of the side wall. A good third of it was missing, leaving a jagged, raw entrance into the sepulcher. Inside, part of the ceiling had come down onto the stone floor. A hand emerged from under the debris, shoving it aside.
    “Still think I can’t circumvent Kostich’s protections?” Thala asked him with a note of smugness that made me want to slap her.
    “Mayling!” Gabriel shot past us from outside the sepulcher, hurdling the fallen stones to yank bricks and chunks of wood off May.
    “I’m OK,” May said, coughing as she crawled out of the mass of stone. “There was some sort of statue here, and it gave me shelter. What happened?”
    “Who ... oh, the shadow walker,” Thala said dismissively. “That will teach her to be where she shouldn’t be. Stand back or Ysolde will die. And when I kill, they stay dead.”
    This last was spoken to Drake, who approached us with István.
    Baltic jerked, his eyes narrowing on Thala. Briefly, I wondered what had startled him so, but my attention was soon claimed elsewhere as the others formed a semicircle around us.
    Thala’s voice was amused as she spoke to Baltic. “You don’t really believe you can stop me with a few dragons, do you? Really, Baltic, I thought you knew me better than that.”
    “I thought I did, as well,” he said softly, once again causing me to roll my eyes toward him in surprise. He had an indescribable look on his face, something akin to speculation and confusion. “You will release Ysolde.”
    Thala was silent for a moment. “You really would give up the sword for her, wouldn’t you? When I was held prisoner, the green wyvern told me you did, but I didn’t believe him. I thought Kostich must have tricked it from you, or that you gave it to him as part of your plan to take over the weyr, but it was true that you willingly gave it up for a mere woman?”
    “She is my mate,” Baltic said, his face now completely unreadable, but his fire was burning extremely hot, just beneath the surface, barely contained. I had a feeling that the slightest spurt of emotion would unleash it.
    “You have become as tiresome as she,” Thala said, and to my utter surprise, whipped away the razor wire and shoved me toward him. “If you wish to be a fool, then far be it from me to stop you. You will not see my sword again, however.”
    She started toward the destroyed wall, but Baltic was instantly there in front of her, in dragon form once again.
    She stopped a few feet from him, laughing and shaking her head. “And now you prove to me that in addition to your heart having grown soft, so has your head. Do you believe there is any way you can stop me from doing exactly as I want, dragon?”
    “Yes,” Baltic answered simply.
    “We outnumber you, Thala,” I pointed out, tearing off the sleeve of my blouse and wrapping it around my neck.
    “I am not so foolish as to come alone,” she said, gesturing to the side.
    “Bloody hell,” Savian muttered as a group of about twenty or so dragons emerged from the woods, each armed with weapons used in centuries past, all of them in their natural forms. Red, blue, black, and even two green dragons came toward us, the clouds shifting just enough to allow the icy fingers of moonlight to caress the metal of their weapons.
    But it was the two people who trailed behind them who had my blood boiling.
    “Oh goody,” I said, flexing my fingers. “Retribution