A Shield of Faith (BOOK 4)

Chapter 8

FENRER

Molvasolevu... Molvasolevu...

Pyren.

Palpable recognition within the eye of a crimson beholder. As he stood among the serrated thoughts of ancient promises, the feathered creature took a breath through the veil of pitch; a scream of a single bloodline. It dripped down the teeth in bloody ooze, but when he tried to drive the wedge further between minds, Kon's shape burst out of the river and fractured the control around his fingers. Why did you stop me back then, Kon? He followed behind the second patrol, keeping his senses stretched. Auras created the myriad of the flow, with the silver lilybells swallowing all. I was close to something — hearing the message. It called out to me.

"You had done enough," Kon replied on the bridge of spirits. "Had I allowed you to continue, there was too much of a chance for your soul to be unbalanced."

But how did it recognize me?

Kon went silent once more at his one, continuous question since they had left Irimount initially. Why will you not tell me? Fenrer stopped beside the sheer rise of the mountain cradle. Magick pulsed along a firm, sharp flow of multiple connections. Each one blipped with power when he pushed his magick through it. Runic circuitry built within the smallest of crevices. Fenrer followed the trace straight to the pillars dug between the peaks. If you cannot tell me, just say. He dug his thumb into his runic expander to energize it when the crimson pulse intensified underneath the layers of permafrost. Downwards, it moaned and hummed in a daze. Scales shivered against the stale wind, and the beautiful flow curdled and bubbled the closer it came to the source of tar. He let the patrols handle any wayward draugr, who gave no indication of fighting back against their release, to focus on the ripple in the air. This place looks different now that my vision is clearer... Fenrer took off his glove to brush his fingers up the lamppost. Oddly, it followed a different circuit than the ones which lined the cradle —a different, inactive source.

Fenrer studied the lines digging underneath a closer layer of permafrost. He caught up to the patrol with ease, though whenever they disappeared into broken buildings, he took his time to examine any fracture within the magitek circuitry cleverly hidden in the rock, where they all gathered into a stronger runic bind up yet another pillar tucked between the cradle formation. He scrunched his nose at the unholy waft from the nearby Spire, where the hum intensified in his ears. Kon?

"I'm sorry, Little Wolf, that I cannot give you the answer you crave."

No... it's not that. Fenrer turned around in place as he rubbed his hands for extra warmth. Mist streamed through his lips when he tasted the old decay on the air. What's that music?

"What music?"

Fenrer brushed a circle on his temple, then tried to focus on the mixture of auras to find the source of the noise. It's so distant I almost can't... decipher it. You can't hear it? Fenrer stilled when a rush of spiritual mist wrapped around his chest and overflowed his body as Kon stepped over the bridge and shared the space. In an instant, the music disappeared, and Fenrer frowned at its absence.

"I hear nothing. Call upon our covenant if you require me, Little Wolf. I will be here." Kon's presence disappeared, and he trailed behind the patrol when they moved onto the next section of the city, leaving his Aeoniir to his rest.

In his belt pouch, his lavastone pulsed against the cold, slowly drained of volcanic energy — enough to last them the couple days Neven predicted the operation would take. Fenrer raised his gloved hands to his mouth and rubbed them free of the icy pinpricks which muted the myriad of auras. Broken pebbles crunched underneath his heel when they went around the bend of the mountain cradle. Darkness dwindled through the constant flurries beating upon the rock when they returned to the city square of noble estates. Hippogryphs cuddled together, though Tix'snuv laid down on one of the exposed second floors of the nearest building, shaking out his neck feathers until they puffed against the wind. In the center, Neven sent sparks of flames into the gathered bonfire surrounded with larger lavastones. Fenrer frowned at the refusal of power when he sent another haphazard burst into the base, shaking out his arms.