Dragon Airways (13 page)

Tuck grew smaller. "I'm sorry," he said before walking over to Dashiq and double-checking the straps.

His shoulders shaking brought no joy, satisfaction, or absolution. There was only pain and guilt. No matter how hard she tried, she wasn't finished being angry yet.

Just as the stars began to shine, Dashiq used the air currents to spiral upward over the green crystal columns. Barely a sound was made when she tucked her wings and disappeared from view. No matter how hard she tried, Riette could not find them again. They might as well have ceased to exist, and the thought nearly crushed her. Tuck offered his hand when she climbed down, and she accepted it, trying to be a bigger person. Even so, she did not smile or thank him.

"Did you see what they did to Berigor?" Tuck asked when the silence had hung too long.

Riette nodded.

"I mean, I knew the cap'n saved Dashiq, but I could never picture exactly what it was he'd done. Now I'm even more amazed the old bird still flies."

"What happened with Al'Drakon and Tarin?"

"Don't know," Tuck said. "I fell asleep and when I woke up, the cap'n was tearing the carriage off in a rage. Was it the explosion that woke you?"

Riette nodded again.

"It was out to sea," he said, pointing beyond the city. "No idea what or why."

Riette took his hand once again, also grabbing his false hand. "Will you make me a promise?"

Tuck looked as if he were trapped in front of a stampeding bull. "I . . . uh . . . maybe?"

"Do you think I am capable of handling the truth?"

Tuck nodded.

"Do you think I deserve to know the truth?"

Tuck nodded again.

"Then will you promise not to lie to me ever again?"

"I promise," Tuck said.

"Good. Now how do you feel?"

"I'm not so sure they're gonna come back for us."

It was not how Riette had expected the conversation to go.

* * *

Shadows moved through Windhold, but few were there to see. Far larger than the hollowed mountain of Ri, this hold had been carved out by dragons, and by the looks of it, big ones. Here the Zjhon had an amazing facility for storing, testing, constructing, and deploying aircraft. Steady winds consistently blew in the same direction, which made perhaps everything but landing ideal. Berigor had no trouble clinging to the mountainside. Allowing them to climb across his tail to gain entrance to the hold, he never made a sound. The repairs to his face must have given the beast newfound strength, even as they made him look like a living work of art.

Two guards moved through the assembled aircraft, the lanterns they carried making them easy to spot. While he mourned the loss of Dosser, Al'Drakon Keldon Tallowborn was fortunate to have Tarin at his side. He was part of this mission for numerous reasons, his understanding of aircraft engineering chief among them. At each jet, he loosened four connections. For prop planes, of which few remained, it took only a moment for Tarin to score two rubber lines, leaving them intact but dramatically weakened.

The process took time, and Keldon wanted nothing more than to be done with it and get rid of the cargo he carried. One wrong move, and they would both be history. Getting to the antiair guns was the riskiest but perhaps the most important part of their mission.

Only a single aircraft remained, bathed in moonlight, closer to the entrance than others, and Keldon considered leaving that one alone. Tarin moved before he could give the order. Keeping to the shadows, Keldon could only watch in silence as the guards converged on where Tarin worked. Holding his breath, Keldon prepared to attack. Tarin was no fool, though. By the time lantern light reached where he'd been working, he'd faded back into the shadows.

To get to the guns, the two Drakon would have no choice but to leave the relative safety of the shadows. This part required patience, which had not always been Keldon's strong suit. Again, the guards converged not far away. Had they been paying attention to the aircraft, they might have seen two men who were really too big to be playing hide-and-seek.

Tarin shifted and his leather boot creaked. Suddenly both guards were alert, and still Keldon had to wait. He did not want them to raise the alarm. Better to let them get as close as possible then deal with them quickly and silently. Before the guards got near enough, a bright orange flash out to sea lit up everything, followed by a reassuring boom. It was at least in some ways reassuring. He'd recognized the clay fire bombs immediately upon finding them in the caves. Such marvels were well described in the histories, even if lost to modern times. Berigor dropping one in the sea proved the weapons were still viable no matter their age. It also provided a distraction. Both guards ran to the edge of the wind channel and looked out at a sparkling orange plume with a roiling cap that jutted up from the sea. Nothing else was visible, and they argued over what it might be.

Knowing how devastating the weapons were, Tarin handled the ceramic spheres he carried with exaggerated care. While it might have saved their lives, it also took longer. Tarin was still exposed when both guards turned, without warning, in response to
angry shouts at the other end of the wind channel. The explosion had everyone on edge. If only Berigor had waited just a little longer.

Standing stock still, Tarin let the guards walk past then dropped down to hide beside Keldon. One man looked back a moment later and hesitated, but the shouting grew louder, so he turned away. Tarin and Keldon crawled to the entrance, climbed outside, and clung to the mountainside, hoping their ride would get there soon. One mountain down, one to go.

* * *

Emmet shivered as Dashiq plummeted into the deepening darkness. There would be no surprise this time. The Zjhon would have been on their guard even if not for explosions off the coast. Barabas did not claim to know what was going on, but Emmet suspected Keldon had something to do with it. It wasn't much of a plan, but they had no better options than to barge in and try to steal Argus Kind's magic. If not for Emmet's ability, none of this would be possible. He felt both pride and an overwhelming sense of responsibility. There was fear as well. He understood the danger they faced and the reasons it was still worth the risk. An attack so early in the night might not be what the Zjhon were expecting, but they were on full alert when Dashiq brought them into view. Dozens of lights converged on them with blinding heat. Shouts rose up when the dragon crested the nearest peak.

The next moment changed everything. The response from every gunner was the same; every one had Dashiq in his sights, and they all fired almost in unison. Emmet closed his eyes as the first cannon exploded in a ball of fire and sparks. A moment later, he opened his eyes again, amazed by the rolling explosion. Normally the air cannons had a specific, recognizable sound. This was a fiery inferno turning long gun barrels into twisted heaps of metal. Aircraft launched from Windhold, not far away, which did not bode well. While he and Barabas might get in, getting out could be tricky.

The planes would have to fly at night, which was difficult enough.
Still, the first pulse jet rounded the corner and thumped toward them and into the spotlights. The U-shaped jets had been retrofitted to carry their own lighting systems, blinding Emmet as they approached. The pilot got off three shots before the plane started emitting white smoke. In the span of a few breaths, the U-jet spiraled into the valley below. Other planes did not make it that far. Sudden movements while dodging crashing planes initiated other failures until aircraft rained from the sky.

"That crazy fool," Barabas said with a note of what might have been pride.

Smiling, Emmet pointed toward the brightest magic. Barabas guided Dashiq using his knees, and she landed on the ledge, allowing Barabas and Emmet to dismount within the entrance. The remains of two large guns flanked the halls. In spite of the Drakon's efforts, a diesel plane rumbled through the valley and opened fire on Dashiq. The dragon pressed deeper into the hall to escape the attack.

Emmet pointed to the back of the chamber and to the right. "Magic."

Laughter echoed through the cavern. It was a deep, angry laugh that twisted Emmet's guts. From the darkness emerged a man more frightening than any of Emmet's nightmares. He wore black armor and carried a six-foot-tall axe. It was the headsman's axe, the very one he'd used to kill the previous ruler and thus become king. He wore no helm, and the glint in his eye reeked of pure evil. This was a man who cared for none but himself. Except perhaps the Al'Zjhon. Barabas had warned of this elite fighting force, but Emmet already knew them; they had hunted him before.

"Mean," he said, pointing to the woman who walked alongside Argus Kind. Her form-fitting leathers appeared to allow a wide array of movement. If Argus Kind was a battle axe, this woman was a surgical blade. There were others: the man who could contort his body to fit into small spaces and the man who watched from the shadows. Every instinct told Emmet to run, but he extended his hand to Barabas, and the big man lowered his.

Again Argus Kind laughed. "I knew you would come back, Barabas. I should have killed you more thoroughly the first time. Now I know better." He hefted his axe, making his intentions undeniably clear. "And you brought the boy. I have to thank you for that. He'll be among my most prized possessions."

Hearing himself referred to as a possession made Emmet shiver. Riette would not like that. The thought of her made him want to cry, but he remained strong. Barabas needed him. Dashiq would not fit any farther into the hall, and she turned around to face the incoming airplane. Without ever firing another shot, the plane sputtered and spiraled out of control, Keldon's sabotage perhaps late but nonetheless successful. The man wasn't so bad as people made him out to be. Emmet saw the good in almost everyone, but that was why Argus Kind and the Al'Zjhon frightened him so much; he found no good left in them. Something had hurt them all so badly and for so long, they no longer wanted to do good or be good. Destruction was as gratifying for them as creativity was for most.

In Argus Kind's hand was the source of all the magic Emmet had sensed: a glassy orb of some sort, he could not tell exactly what type. "It must have been difficult, watching your dragon slowly die. You should have let it be quick and spared the poor beast. Look at what she has become. If only she'd had this." He turned the glassy sphere to reveal the most realistic-looking artificial dragon eye Emmet had seen. Every other one he'd seen was carried by Barabas, but they did not compare to this one. The detail, the life, and the magic within this eye were far beyond any other.

Emmet realized then just how much magic Argus Kind had needed to gather to throw him off the track of the most powerful magic. No wonder he had allowed so much to be stored in one place and left at risk. It had simply been bait meant to keep anyone from taking the real prize.

"Azzakkan's Eye," Argus Kind said. "I suspect you've thought about this a time or two while she fades away—the one object that might not only heal your dragon but might actually make her better. We all know the stories, of course, but I know more. Only I took the time to trace all the legends back and had the guts to retrieve physical evidence that proves the stories were real and true. If all you're going to do is sniff at the dirt, you don't deserve the power."

"There is power enough to share with the world and do what's right," Barabas said. This brought new laughter from Argus Kind and the Al'Zjhon. "There has never been need for war."

Though it looked as if he might say something more, that was when Dashiq struck. Like a snake, her tail shot out and smacked Argus Kind across the wrist, hard enough to send Azzakkan's Eye flying and Argus Kind reeling in pain. Emmet stretched time, knowing he could not do it for long. He made it only halfway to the still airborne sphere when time began to compress again. Panting hard, Emmet tripped. For a moment, time remained stretched, and he reached out his gloved hand, grasping for a chance at salvation. Just as his fingers closed over the glassy sphere, a sleek black boot stepped on his wrist. Emmet screamed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Peace is an illusion. The wise prepare for war.

—Agger Dan, Al'Zjhon

* * *

"Now!" Barabas shouted.

Using his free hand, Emmet pulled the cloth over his face. Soft bundles struck cold stone. For a moment, there was silence, but then an angry buzzing filled the hall, followed by screams. No amount of bravery or training can overcome pain and primal fear. Emmet curled himself into a ball and hoped the hornets would leave him alone. The Al'Zjhon were far from defenseless and, after the initial shock, covered their exposed flesh. From within their robes, they armed air rifles. Compressed air tanks hissed. Pellets stung Emmet's legs, his thick leggings and boots preventing more serious injury.

Chaos ensued. With the mean woman still standing on his wrist, Emmet sneaked a glance back at Barabas. He fought to reach him. The woman fired relentlessly, and the closer he got, the more pain showed on his face. The smaller air-powered weapons were less potent than their larger brethren but inflicted damage nonetheless. A hit in the right place could result in blindness or death.

Emmet did not want to see his friend hurt, especially not while trying to save him. When the mean woman shifted her weight, he took full advantage. So engrossed with inflicting pain on Barabas, she was unprepared when Emmet yanked his hand free, spun, and kicked her in the knee. The woman's leather garments were thick and well padded. His kick did little damage, but it did distract her long enough for Barabas to scoop a hornet nest still stuck in its burlap sack, and he threw it at the woman. It struck her full in the face. Emmet scrambled away. Her screams retreated toward the back of the hall.

Time had fully compressed, and the other Al'Zjhon advanced, doing their best to ignore the swarming hornets. A heavy weight struck Emmet from behind, sending him sprawling. Somehow he managed to hold on to Azzakkan's Eye, but it cost him. He'd fallen too close to one of the nests and could no longer avoid being stung. Already his face swelled and the vision in his left eye grew dark. His screams added to those of the mean woman and others. Dashiq roared behind him, her breath sending the paper hornet nests tumbling toward the back of the hall. Rough hands grabbed him. Only the sight of alabaster skin kept him from putting up a fight. More weapons fire ensued, and Barabas grunted with each hit. Twice he stumbled and Emmet feared they would both end up in a heap, but somehow the man reached Dashiq and tossed the boy into the saddle.

There was no time for securing straps, and Emmet held on tightly when Barabas gained his seat. Dashiq turned and launched herself back into the sky. Still holding the glassy sphere in one hand, Emmet gripped the saddle with his other. Dizziness threatened to overwhelm him, hornet venom coursing through his veins. The pounding in his head grew louder, accompanied by flapping wings and heavy weapons discharging.

Argus Kind's troops had successfully replaced some of the damaged air cannons. The world jerked sideways and Dashiq let out a moaning woof as heavy stone shot struck her in the thorax. For a time they tumbled, the ground rushing up to meet them. With a wheezing moan, Dashiq found strength she had somehow held in reserve and skimmed low over the city. Catapults, air cannons, and bows fired, creating an echoing chorus. An arrow sank into Emmet's boot, the tip digging into his flesh, but he could not remove it. The erratic flight gave him no chance to stash the glossy sphere in his pocket, and he was too busy holding on to do anything else. Only straps kept Barabas in the saddle, and Dashiq wobbled in the air. Was it worth it? Emmet wondered.

Only when open seas rushed beneath them did Emmet stash Azzakkan's Eye within his coat and secure two straps. Though far from safe, it was better than nothing. Barabas did the same, though he favored his right arm. No one left Ri unharmed, but he could still feel the power emanating from the ancient artifact.

Dashiq circled back, presumably headed for Riette and Tuck. A distressing sight waited. Battle balloons filled the skies, bristling with weapons visible beneath the raging fires keeping them airborne. Airships crept around nearby peaks, though none were high enough to reach the secluded valley with the green obelisks.

Struggling to gain altitude, Dashiq didn't look as if she would be able to return there either. Despite being out of range, those aboard the balloons opened fire. Though it inflicted no damage, the act made it clear there would be a price for regaining the shoreline. Dashiq used the only advantage she had left at that moment and dived closer to the waters below. With nothing to illuminate them, the balloons ceased fire. Searchlights scanned the water, looking for them, but the dragon showed her skill by staying ahead of the piercing light beams. Twice lights passed over them; twice Dashiq altered their course.

The far side of the island nation was more lightly defended, and the dragon used the opportunity to gain altitude. No thermals waited to lift them higher as the ground below them cooled in the night air, and Dashiq had to work for every bit. Emmet remembered once asking if the dragon was going to die. Now he understood it was inevitable. No matter what Barabas held in reserve to care for his dragon, he would only be delaying the loss of his beloved friend. Tears flowed from Emmet's eyes in spite of one's being swollen shut.

When the peaks they sought came back into view, it took Emmet a moment to recognize them. His blurry vision did not help, and the different angle made him question his own judgment, but there was no doubt that was where Dashiq was headed. What troubled Emmet most was how much higher they had to climb before reaching the valley where his sister and Tuck waited. His concern increased when an airship emerged from behind the peaks. Soaring higher than they, the airship glowed like a beacon in the night. Searchlights scoured the landscape, looking for Dashiq and her passengers, but the captain of this airship had something else in mind. How they knew where to look was unknown to Emmet, but the cold feeling in his gut grew while the dirigible moved ever higher.

Gusting winds tossed Dashiq about. The airship above was subject to the same and perhaps worse. Unpredictable crosswinds were difficult enough to deal with, but swirling eddies created by the peaks, which disrupted the prevailing winds, were treacherous and unpredictable. Unlike whirlpools in the seas, these were invisible. Emmet and Barabas watched, horrified to see the airship moving ever closer to the valley. Armed men climbed down a rope ladder that twisted perilously in the winds. No matter how much he wanted these people to fail in their mission, their bravery was undeniable. Perhaps the consequences of failure were worse than death. It was possible, he knew, and he tried not to think about the fate awaiting Riette and Tuck if they were captured.

Higher the airship drifted, trying desperately to avoid the jagged peaks, but the winds proved too much. Twice the men on the ladder were dashed against the rocks. One let go of the violently swinging ropes and clung to a rocky promontory, but within moments, he lost his grip and disappeared into the night, his screams growing faint then ending with chilling suddenness. Though he hated to see anyone die, this gave Emmet some hope his sister might yet be saved. Balloons joined the airship in its quest, their fires burning brightly, trying to overcome the churning air and gain the necessary altitude. Horizontal thrusters gave these balloons far more directional control, but they also added weight. It was a difficult balance to manage.

If not for the unspoken need for stealth, Emmet would have cried out. He watched in terrified silence while more men descended rope ladders now dancing above the mystical valley. Two men made the jump before a downdraft sent the rest crashing to the sacred stone, their fate perhaps more kind than those remaining aboard. No matter how the captain tried, his orders audible across the distance, the airship remained out of control.

Drifting higher, the dirigible sought to escape, but the valley had remained long undiscovered for good reasons. With a single gust, wind sent the airship crashing into the jagged peaks. Flames leaped higher when the canvas skin ruptured. A tearing sound was followed by snapping timbers. The ship began crashing into the valley itself, but the winds were not done with her yet. Even while the crew fought to gain control of the mortally wounded airship, the captain shouting for them to land in the valley, the flaming ship was thrust outward. After a final collision with the mountainside, it plummeted to the distant valley floor.

With only battle balloons remaining in the night skies, Dashiq circled closer, trying to gain altitude and avoid the spotlights at the same time. It was no use. The wounded and weary dragon was unable to climb high enough. Bright lights blinded Emmet; they had been spotted. Shouts rose up from the balloons, and soon the sound of weapons filled the valley, echoing like rolling thunder.

Only the unpredictable air currents kept the dragon and her passengers safe. Unable to reach the valley by flight, Dashiq did the only other thing she could; she flew straight toward dark stone. Ferocious air currents swirled along the rock face, slamming them into the peaks with gut-wrenching force.

Refusing to give up, Dashiq dug her claws into the rock face and even used her tail for stability while she climbed one agonizing step after another. Again lights pooled on them, and the battle balloons fired. Lacking a stable firing platform, the shots mostly missed their marks, but a few came too close for Emmet's comfort. One struck the stone directly above them, rock fragments raining down like a storm of knives. Dashiq screamed in pain or perhaps just in refusal to die, Emmet was unsure. It was the weight that saved them. Battle balloons could carry only so much ammunition, and most dropped back toward the valley floor, presumably to reload.

Taking advantage of the respite, Dashiq climbed with all her strength, groaning and whimpering. It pained Emmet to hear her in such distress, and he rubbed her neck in encouragement. Moments later, they crested the rocky peaks in much the same way Berigor had, and the dragon tumbled into the valley. Not far away, Riette and Tuck stood side by side, each holding a round object in their hands. Two of the Zjhon who had dropped into the valley from the airship faced them. Another watched Dashiq approach. After picking herself up, the dragon walked with a pronounced limp.

"Stay back!" Riette screamed, but the Zjhon took another step closer. It was their last. Tuck and Riette each threw a clay sphere, and twin explosions rocked the small valley. The concussive force nearly sent Emmet tumbling from the saddle. The remaining Zjhon soldier looked around, realizing he was lost.

"Hold," Barabas said to the man in the most intimidating voice Emmet had ever heard, his slur barely audible. Dashiq continued forward, glaring at the man who cowered before her. "It seems you've a decision to make. You can die right now, or you can talk. Choose."

The man hesitated.

"Choose now or I'll choose for you."

Dashiq swung her head in his direction again, and the man fell trembling to the ground. "I surrender," he said. "I'll talk." He then threw his weapons at Tuck's feet.

Barabas ignored the man after that. His concern for Dashiq was palpable. The carriage rested nearby, partially repaired, but it would do none of them any good if the dragon died. Emmet, too, placed his hands on the noble dragon's side, and she trembled beneath his touch. Hovering over the black stone amid crystalline pillars, she looked almost well, but he could sense she was not.

"You want to live?" Tuck asked the Zjhon soldier.

The man just nodded.

"Then help us with the carriage. It's badly damaged and we were only expecting two passengers. If you want off this rock, I suggest you do your best. Otherwise you might end up splattered on them rocks way down there. I'd bet a fall from this height would be a bad way to go."

Barabas put a hand on Emmet's shoulder, breaking his trance. The man held out his calloused palm. The look on his face spoke of a request rather than a demand.

Pulling the glassy sphere from his coat, Emmet felt warmth emanating from it. It pulsed in harmony with his breathing but he knew it had life of its own and had merely synchronized with him. Having sought magic for so long and lacked synchronicity his entire life, Emmet did not immediately relinquish the ancient artifact. Legends of the first dragon rider and her dragon were known to everyone, though. The Eye would far better serve Dashiq.

His skin felt cold and somehow incomplete when he dropped the sphere into Barabas's palm. The man's reaction made it clear he felt it too. Most people would feel nothing. He and Barabas were different, which frightened people. It had taken seeing the problem from the outside for him to understand his own life. So many times he'd thought people mean, rude, and inconsiderate—and perhaps they were—but now he understood most were just afraid, or at the very least uncomfortable. In Barabas, he'd found understanding and hope. Things could get better. This he poured into his physical bond with the dragon. He, too, had been injured in the fight, and the hornet stings throbbed. Even in her wounded state, Dashiq sent him energy as well; he'd never experienced anything like it.

He felt Riette's hands going over him in much the same way Barabas treated Dashiq. "I'm sorry," she said. "I never should have let you go, and now look at you. I wasn't sure you'd make it back at all." The catch in her voice conveyed her emotions more than the words.

"I'm all right," Emmet said. Riette sobbed in response. He grabbed her wrists and gently placed her hands on the dragon. "She needs us."