Sanguino stared at her with his good eye, but said nothing.
‘I know you hate me,’ Sable said to Deathfang. ‘You think the destruction of the Catacombs is my fault? The Ascendants are angry because I saved Blackrose; should I have appeased them and allowed them to slay her for their own amusement? Right now, the Seventh Ascendant is watching us. She wishes to take Blackrose back to the pits; should we let her? The only reason she hasn’t tried, is that she fears so many dragons in the same place – you would incinerate her if she tried to snatch Blackrose with her Quadrant. She is also hoping that you and Blackrose will fight, as an injured Blackrose would be easier to take back to Alea Tanton.’
‘Then we should kill her now,’ said Deathfang. ‘If we all attack her, we could kill her.’
‘No,’ said Sable. ‘She would kill some of you first, and then leave. She has a Quadrant.’
‘Then what are you suggesting, witch? Do you have anything constructive to offer?’
‘I can drive her away, and then we can scatter; she won’t be able to track us all.’
‘Scatter? You worthless insect. Do you think I built up the Catacombs only to let my kin scatter? No, we stick together; our safety is in our numbers.’
‘Can you really drive her away?’ said Blackrose.
Sable nodded. ‘I can try.’
‘Then do so.’
Deathfang glared at them both for a moment. ‘Yes, witch. Do so.’
Sable sat down on the bare rock between the two dragons and relaxed. She sent her vision out, crossing the broken valley, then soaring over the remnants of the ruined Catacombs. She could sense the presence of the Ascendant, and guided her vision to the barren slopes of the southern volcano. Arete was standing there, a Quadrant in her left hand. She was using her vision to watch the dragons, and Sable entered her mind, but remained still and undetected.
Arete’s thoughts were in turmoil. She wanted to seize Blackrose, but feared being trapped amid two dozen adult dragons who could kill her before she could kill them first. She was waiting, hoping that the dragons would fight each other, and then she noticed Sable’s physical form, sitting on the ground. She knew the Holdfast woman was using her powers, but couldn’t sense them.
Sable pushed her thoughts into the Ascendant’s mind. Quit while you’re ahead . You have destroyed the Catacombs and taught the wild dragons a lesson. Dozens are dead; they will never oppose the Ascendants again. Return to Alea Tanton; your work is done.
Arete frowned, her thoughts in confusion. Her mind was strong and, though she couldn’t sense Sable’s presence, she could resist her persuasion better than most. Sable tried another tack. A virile strain of paranoia snaked through the Ascendant’s mind, born of millennia of mistrust and betrayal.
Forget about the dragons, Sable insinuated into her thoughts; you should be more worried about what Leksandr is doing back in Alea Tanton. He mocks your failure with Kelsey Holdfast; he is laughing at you, and conspiring against you. He will sell you out to the Second Ascendant to save his own skin; you know this to be true. Every minute that you are away, he grows more confident, more powerful. What are you waiting for? The Catacombs have been obliterated, and who cares about getting one dragon back to the pits of the mortals? Go back, and show Leksandr that you are not fooled by his double-dealing. Go, before it is too late.
Arete frowned, then glanced at the Quadrant. She chewed her lip for a moment, then vanished. Sable pulled her vision back and toppled over, her senses exhausted.
Sanguino’s forelimb darted out, and he caught her as she fell.
‘Well, witch?’ said Deathfang.
‘She’s gone,’ said Sable, struggling to keep her eyes open. ‘She’s gone back to Alea Tanton.’
‘Good work,’ said Blackrose. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Tired,’ said Sable. ‘I might have to rest for a bit. Wrestling with an Ascendant was harder than I thought…’
Sable’s eyes closed, and she slipped into oblivion.
Chapter 21
An End to Suffering
A lea Tanton, Tordue, Western Khatanax – 3rd Kolinch 5252
Belinda longed for death. With every second that passed, she wished for the end. Death would be a mercy next to the agonies inflicted by the restraining mask, a kindness. It drove out everything from her mind, all love and hope, and any thoughts of the future. With the mask on, there was no future but pain.
Yendra had been in a mask for nearly three hundred years without dying; could Belinda last that long? She was an Ascendant, so perhaps she could remain even longer within its cruel embrace. Her wrists had been shackled to prevent her from trying to remove it, and she was lying on a cold stone floor. Sometimes she heard voices, but their words didn’t register with her. Some hours, or perhaps a day, before, she had heard what had sounded like Arete’s laughter, but it had meant nothing to Belinda, and had aroused no emotion within her.
Hands grabbed her shoulders. Maybe someone had decided to show her some mercy; maybe they would take a sword to her neck and end the pain forever.
Words were spoken. Was someone saying her name?
She opened her mouth to plead for death, but something stopped her.
Don’t give up, she told herself; not yet.
Hands reached round to the back of her head, and the strap was unbuckled. At once the pressure on her eyes lessened a little, and then the mask was ripped from her face. Her self-healing powered up, the strain on it gone, and she sank back to the ground, panting as the pain began to ebb. The shackles round her wrists were removed next, and then the chains by her ankles fell free.
‘Rest,’ said a voice full of pity.
A hand took hold of hers, and squeezed gently.
‘It’s over,’ whispered the voice. ‘I’m here now; your pain is at an end. Open your mouth, just a little.’
She did so, and felt a drop of salve touch her tongue. A
