Ink Forged

~Storms Brewing~

"It's not my sword," she repeated, the words a vicious growl. She stripped the sheath away, slinging it over her shoulder. The blade of the sword gleamed in the afternoon light, and several people scurried across to the other side of the street.

"Put that down," Voron hissed, slapping his palm against the flat of the blade, forcing the tip to the brick beneath them. "You'll get yourself arrested for disturbing the peace."

"It's not my sword!" she nearly screamed, tossing the useless lump of metal to the ground. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, jerking his face down to her level. "You said you would return it. But you lied! You lied to me!"

Disgusted and hurt, she shoved him away and began to stalk back toward the palace. A snap of her fingers had Doren and Delna flanking her. Light-dragon and dark-dragon, yin and yang, the mated dragons were her most powerful.

They paced by her side, wisps of shadow and light curling around their bodies. Of all her dragons, these two were absolutely the strangest, and the most lethal. Their power made them difficult to tether to this world.

But one could not be without the other, and the strain on her magic was greater than when she called any of her other dragons.

Their bodies were somewhere between the jungle cats of southern Escana and the giant eagles native to the mountains of the island country of Iressa. They prowled on paws with dagger-like claws and massive feathered wings were nestled between their powerful shoulders.

She brushed her fingers across the velvet soft golden light that seemed to make up Doren's very skin. The dragons had no scales. Instead, their fur and feathers seemed to be made of the light and shadow they each embodied.

Doren growled, his golden wings flaring when Voron ran in front of them. Sword in one hand, an Anmedeis in the other. His face was grim and desperate, but his hands were steady and his stance was strong.

"Maevus, please," he said. "If you get any closer to the castle, you'll be dead."

Delna snarled, her obsidian teeth sparking in the sun, tail a whip of darkness as it slashed through the air. Maevus prowled a step foward, weaving effortlessly between the dragons like it was some kind of dance.

"You people take what isn't yours," Maevus snarled. "That sword isn't just useless steel. It's pure magic. Forged in dragon fire. And it's mine!"

Voron, to his credit, didn't flinch. "Please," he repeated. "I don't want to do this. Give me a chance to fix this."

Strands of darkness coccooned her right hand, threads of light her left. "Move," she hissed.

Distantly she could hear screams and people running to get away from the creatures that had appeared in their midst. Voron moved his thumb over the Anmedeis, but before either of them could make another move, the air pressure spiked and her ears popped.

The world exploded around them.

Maevus was blasted off her feet. Sound drove into her ears like knives and she felt as Doren wrapped his wings around her body. They hit the ground and Maevus was blind. She tasted blood in the back of her mouth.

Doren slumped over her, his breath rasping in her ears. A heart-rending shriek came from somewhere to her left, and Delna's thread yanked too hard. Maevus was suddenly seeing through the female dragon's eyes as she sprinted to her mate and her master.

Steam rose in spirals from Doren's fur which had turned to a flickering, blinding white. The heat and brightness were almost too much for Delna, and she shied away, her shadows unable to balance his light.

Maevus extracted herself from the cool shadows of Delna's mind and opened her own eyes. She felt burnt and flayed, her mouth still tasting like metal as she heaved Doren off of her.

A quick assessment found no broken bones on either of them. Delna nudged her wide nose against Maevus' shoulder. Reaching up a hand, her voice distant in her throbbing ears, she soothed, "He's okay, Del. Just—"

Maevus lunged to her feet, cloak swirling around her. A hooded figure stood not twenty paces away. At his feet, the ground was blackened, a hole gouged out of the pavement just behind him. Farther behind him Voron stood, a hand thrown up to shield his eyes, but unharmed.

A growl ripped from Maevus' throat, as animalistic and harsh as Delna's. Doren staggered to his feet, his wings lightly singed as they flared, sweeping Maevus behind him.

The smell of ozone permeated the air and Maevus realized what had happened. A cold breeze whipped down the street, snapping the red strands of Maevus' hair free from her hood.

Lightning.

They had almost been hit by lightning. Maevus tensed, eyeing the new arrival warily. She had no lightning-dragon. Doren or Lox would be her best bet to survive, but she had never held three dragons in this world successfully. And Doren couldn't exist without Delna.

Storm-Charmed Encants were common enough, but she'd never come across one this powerful. Magic crackled in the air around him but it was... strange. 

It wasn't as metallic as storm magic normally was.

But there was no denying the power of the lightning arcing between his fingers. Her eyes flicked sideways to Doren, who was leaning heavily on his mate, and she knew she would have to be careful how much magic she borrowed from him.

A ball of pure light formed between her hands, and the Storm-Charmed Encant's feet shifted into a more ready battle stance. He remained silent, dark cloak stirring in the breeze he created.

She couldn't see anything of his face, save his grim mouth.

"Enough, Volt," a bell-like voice called. "I wouldn't have you scaring Valmor's newest asset off. Or leaving her splattered across the cobblestones."

Volt stiffened, but then the lightning crackling around his fingers died. Then both he and Voron knelt, their heads bowing and Maevus reluctantly let the light she was holding return to Doren.

A woman was walking from the castle, hips swaying sensuously, silver-blonde hair billowing in the wind. Her red lips were like a smear of blood across her pale features.

Maevus knew without a doubt who this was.

Queen Selna Vorox.

Her pale green eyes drifted over Maevus and her dragons as she swaggered past both Voron and Volt. Maevus nearly wanted to snort—how aptly named—but she couldn't give it that much thought as the queen stopped in front of her.

She was nearly a head taller than Maevus, and breathtakingly beautiful.

The sea-green dress she wore hugged her body until well below her hips, where the skirt then fell to the ground in chiffon folds. Her pale arms where lean and bare, a golden cuff in the shape of a snake-like dragon winding from her wrist to her elbow.

The queen reached forward and cupped Maevus' face in her red-nailed fingers.

"Ah yes," Queen Selna purred. "The Dragon-Charmed Encant."