Dragon: A Histories of Purga Novel

Chapter Thirty-One

As Darvian was rushing down the tunnel, and the Behemoth was finishing up his rampage, and Wilhelm was amping his army of soldiers back up, Rone was flying as fast as he could through the sky. His mind was rioting with worries over Keiara. He saw himself getting to her too late and finding a burnt corpse waiting for him. He saw her suffering. He saw her skin blistering and cracking, her blood boiling. Just the thought of it caused his rage to surge forward like a tidal wave. It washed over his mind, consuming him, and before he knew what was happening he was being propelled forward by a thin stream of wind.

He didn't question it, but he did welcome it. He needed all the extra help he could get, even if it was a coincidentally helpful gust of wind.

The Citadel was about four miles away from the Great Sea, which put him (just coming out of Judicial Hall) about sixty-five miles east of his destination. Even with his burners maxed out, he wouldn't get there for close to thirty-five minutes. That was dangerously too long, and the only thing he could hope for was that the crazed leader of the Blak Army would wait for him to get there. That he would want to make sure Rone was coming so he could watch helplessly as the girl was torched.

Please, don't let me be too late! his mind clamored.

The wind seemed to scream around him, and he felt himself going a little faster.

A half hour later he came to the Citadel and found himself staring at the elegant plaza in front of it. He found the second, enormous landing and the pole that Keiara was lashed to. He could dimly make out a figure walking around the staging area. There were others on the landing, but none of them mattered to him. The only ones that did were Keiara and the man trying to murder her.

Without stopping to think about it, he dived straight at him.

He didn't know how fast he was going, but he knew it was faster than he'd ever gone before. The air around him tugged at his face, his hair, and his clothes but he let all that slip past his notice. The only thing he was focusing on was the bastard intent on hurting Keiara, a girl that had looked past centuries of hate and decided to save his life. As he drew closer and closer, he started yelling. His rage burned even brighter and his eyes never left the black cloaked figure.

He came hurtling down, whistling like an incoming missile.

The figure glanced up and saw him. He pointed to the soldiers in the streets but none of them reacted. He didn't know why he was being allowed to come straight at the Blak Army leader, and a part of his mind thought that maybe he should show a little more caution, but he wasn't going to let the opportunity slip him by.

Rone focused on his nanos and created a picture in his mind of what he wanted. He methodically placed each part, however minuscule, in his mind. He let the whole thing encompass it and when every detail was perfect, he bid his mechpaks to open and create what he was thinking of. It appeared a minute later, a ridiculously huge weapon that mounted itself to his chest. The massive barrel pointed straight down, at the black-cloaked man. He focused on the weapon and sent the biggest ray of blaster fire he'd ever seen lancing with deadly accuracy at his foe. The man looked up but was too late to dodge.

The massive bolt of energy struck and there was an enormous, concussive boom.

Clouds of smoke billowed in the air, obscuring everything. Rone used the cover to fly over to Keiara and landed next to her on the circular platform. His flightpack and body cannon dissolved and the nanos returned to his mechpaks. He looked at Keiara and was again struck by her beauty, even though she was somewhat disheveled. She was looking at him, tears in her eyes and he couldn't help but give her a kiss. She returned it without hesitation.