Dragon Airways (20 page)

Across the channel, Barabas and Keldon made their way toward him. He probably should have gone back to them, but something drew him on. After climbing back down from the tree, he followed the trail of downed foliage Dashiq had left in her wake. The closer he came, the louder the dragons grew. What sounded like a terrible battle erupted up ahead, and Emmet froze in place. Barabas and Keldon shouted his name as they crossed the water. The world otherwise grew still, and Emmet moved forward with a sense of dread anticipation.

When he reached a place where a giant clearing had been created from all the brush getting knocked down, he found Dashiq at its center, curled into a ball but with her wings extended forward, forming a small tent. Slowly lifting her head, she looked him in the eye. Sadness and acceptance were conveyed but also hope and a sense of fulfillment.

The dragon did something unexpected then. Snake quick, she struck out at him. Magic built up within the metalwork. Fire danced as Dashiq tapped into the saddle she still wore. Time stretched, her attack slowing, but he did not move. He could have run all the way back to the shoreline before she finished her thrust, but he did not fear her.

Time compressed.

Dashiq's closed maw slammed into his breastbone—hard. Pain erupted, running far deeper than flesh and bone, as if his being had been rung like a bell. The frequency at which he vibrated changed as a result. He felt strange and even more disconnected than he had his entire life, but now the rate at which time moved felt . . . constant, stable. Something foundational within him had changed, but still the world was far away. He felt like a piece of the background, unable to fully engage with reality.

Dashiq pulled her head back, the magic building into a blazing inferno drawn from the saddle, the air, the land, and the dragon's own life force. All his life he'd yearned for magic but had never known exactly why, now the dragon's maw raced toward him, glowing and pulsing with blue plasma.

No longer could he stretch time, which left him no way to get out of her path. Whatever her intent, it was too late to protest, too late to reconsider. Her choice was made, and she slammed into Emmet, knocking him backward. His world exploded, feeling as if his spirit had been knocked free from his body. The frequency at which he vibrated remained the same, but he could see it now. He existed as waves, with crests and troughs. The world around him was the same, except his waves were out of synchronization, his crests lining up with everything else's troughs. He vibrated at the same frequency but was ever so slightly out of time. It was the force that had defined his life, but never had he been able to see it so clearly. Dashiq's second blow knocked Emmet back into rhythm with time and space. A resounding click shook his very soul. It was deep, fundamental, and permanent. He felt it in his bones.

An overwhelming sense of rightness filling him, his knees buckled from the enormity of it. Never would he sense the world in the exact same way his sister and others did, but Emmet Pickette was, for the first time, truly connected to the world around him.

Still reeling from the change in his reality, Emmet watched Barabas approach, speechless. Dashiq's sides heaved; even at the very end, she waited for him. Keldon was a step behind, but the dragon never even glanced at him. Her one eye was focused on Barabas and Barabas alone. He opened his arms, tears running down his cheeks. Whining, she nuzzled him. After a long sigh, her head dropped to the matted brush.

Barabas wept.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Friends come in all shapes, colors, and sizes.

—Tuck, dragon groom

* * *

Slowly the dragon's body relaxed, and her wings opened, revealing the treasure she'd been protecting. Emmet sucked in a deep breath when he saw the first shiny, metallic egg within her final embrace. Keldon scouted ahead to make sure the mighty serpent did not return, and Barabas was no longer fully aware of his surroundings. Emmet shared his sorrow. Feelings and emotions that had been abstracted for so long washed over him. All he could do was stare and concentrate on breathing. Farther Dashiq's wings drew open, and the true magnitude of her gift became clear. Twenty-four eggs huddled together, gleaming with life. Dashiq was gone, but her legacy remained.

"By the gods!" Keldon said.

Barabas looked up then. Despair turned to shock and realization. Emmet could not say what emotions the old man experienced, but he himself had never felt so strongly or deeply. The pain made him ache. Joy and grief merged into a strange soup that manifested in tears and sobs.

A not-so-distant roar brought the group to attention.

"We need to get out of here," Keldon said. "Now."

No one argued, but some things were too precious to leave behind. With speed born of need, Barabas and Keldon removed the saddle from Dashiq and began loading the eggs into the saddlebags. Reaching out, Emmet grabbed an egg and held it to his chest. Within, something stirred, and the egg jumped in his embrace, tapping him on the breastbone. Again Emmet felt pain, and again he was changed. He had been chosen.

Barabas cast him a quick glance, as if ready to ask the boy to help, but instead his look softened. With a sigh, he lifted Emmet into the saddle. Holding the egg to his chest, Emmet was thankful for Barabas and Keldon; the two men carried the saddle, and thus him, over their heads the entire way back to the campsite. Berigor issued a low whine at seeing the saddle then cooed when he saw the egg in Emmet's arms. The dragon sensed the rest of the eggs and snuffled around the saddlebags. His trumpeting call was unexpected. Emmet hoped it didn't draw the sea serpent back. The creature had been majestic and beautiful but terrifying. When the egg shifted in his grip, Emmet's imagination ran wild.

Barabas and Keldon hastily modified the arrangements of straps used to secure the ancient saddle to make it fit behind the one Berigor already wore. The bull dragon now put his weight on both legs and appeared to be feeling a good bit better. Emmet's heart hurt so badly, he didn't think anything could take the pain away.

Once again, Barabas put Emmet in the saddle and strapped him in. Neither man said anything about the egg Emmet clutched. He was thankful. Barabas did give the boy an extra blanket, which he used to wrap the egg and keep it both warm and safe. When he saw Barabas wrapping the other eggs tightly and packing them around where he would sit, he smiled. Keldon did the same then packed the area around where Emmet sat. Life force pulsed in the eggs, and he loved them all, but Emmet kept that first egg closest.

Golegeth.

The name came like a scent on a breeze, transient yet inescapable. Emmet smiled. His life would never be the same. Every day from there forward was a new kind of gift in a new kind of world. No longer would the same old patterns prevail or the same feelings define him.

"She gave me a gift," Emmet said. "She changed me."

Barabas turned to look at him, and then nodded with a grunt of affirmation.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me—and Riette—and everybody."

Barabas grunted again.

"Can we save them now?"

This question made Keldon turn as well. Barabas nodded. "If they can be saved, then we'll save them. If not, we'll avenge them."

The man had not lied to him. He'd not tried to pretend Riette might not already be dead. He did not assume Emmet was stupid or daft or incapable of understanding the world around him. This was going to take some getting used to.

"I have a gift for you, for what they are worth," Keldon said to Emmet. He reached for the pocket holding the two cache stones within their wooden box. Emmet knew exactly where they were and that the energy in them had been largely—but not entirely—depleted. He accepted them with a grateful bow and slipped the box into the hem of his coat.

Keldon and Barabas mounted, and Berigor leaped into the air from a standstill. It was something Dashiq had struggled to do, especially when bearing a heavy load, but the much younger dragon now did it with ease. The restorative power of this place was like nowhere else, and Emmet, in many ways, was loath to leave. But staying here would not save his sister or Tuck.

Power coursed through Berigor, and the mighty dragon allowed himself full access for the first time. Before he'd been wounded and somewhat tentative. Now he was on the mend, and his confidence grew with every passing moment. Energy washed over Emmet like a lullaby. Holding Golegeth tightly to his chest, he slept, dreaming of a new kind of dragon unlike any to have come before. Already he knew Golegeth and his brethren would be different. Emmet could relate.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

At first Emmet thought he imagined it, but then it happened again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Emotions flowed from the egg he held—insistence, impatience, and perseverance were all overshadowed by gnawing hunger. Emmet found himself reaching for the rations Keldon had provided.

Crack.

A tiny jaw bearing razor-sharp teeth protruded through a gap in the shell. Legs pushed at the shell, forcing the crack to expand and the shell to open. A long neck uncoiled, followed by what looked like fresh-grown leaves. They unfolded into webbed wings. When front and hind legs emerged from the shell, Emmet drew a sharp breath; no longer were there any questions regarding Golegeth's lineage. Berigor trumpeted, somehow sensing the new arrival, but he did not slow. Emmet thought the large dragon might actually have sped up a bit. Barabas and Keldon turned back in time to see Golegeth fully spread his wings for the first time. Rushing air caught the wing membranes, and the tiny dragon was whipped out into open air. He did not flap his wings or glide; instead he fell like a brick. When he struck the water, Barabas, Keldon, and Emmet all jumped. Berigor did not overtly react, but he did slow a little.

Bursting from the water a moment later, Golegeth flapped his wings and hauled a fish just smaller than himself from the water. Berigor dipped lower, and Golegeth returned to Emmet's lap. On his way, he called out, sounding almost as if he scolded the larger dragon. Berigor appeared to take no offense, though he did speed back up once the baby dragon was safely within the saddle. Looking pleased with himself, Golegeth devoured the fish. It was a messy and noisy process, and Emmet tried to convince the dragon to eat somewhere other than in his lap, but there weren't many other places to offer except the empty seat behind them. Either way, the dragon did not take him up on any of his suggestions.

Five more trips he made to the sea below, each time returning with a different kind of fish. After the fifth, he lay distended and exhausted. The boy took the blanket that had been in his lap and stuffed it in the seat behind him. While Golegeth slept, Emmet considered the rest of the eggs, all of which were showing signs of life. What would happen when the rest hatched? Panic set in. He would be covered in fish. Golegeth burped, adjusted himself, and went back to sleep.

Berigor either took them ever faster for the fun of it, or he, too, sensed the hatchlings' impending arrival. Emmet suspected it was both. The mighty dragon reveled in his newfound power, the might of the ancients at his disposal. No longer was he a dragon missing an eye; now he was practically Azzakkan reborn—and he knew it. He was the very thing Argus Kind had sought to prevent.

Golegeth's early existence consisted of fishing and sleeping. Never had Emmet known such a voracious creature, and never had he seen a beast grow so quickly. He could almost see the great oaf growing larger while he watched. Berigor maintained a grueling pace and made no stops. Only when Golegeth fished did he slow. When the Midlands shoreline came into view, it felt too soon, as if they had somehow skipped part of the journey. Seeing the edges of the Jaga swamp, it was apparent they were far east of Sparrowport but still on the western side of the swamp. To the north would be Dragonport.

Berigor did not slow. Those who lived in the few settlements they passed along the way cried out and pointed to the skies at the sight of them. Around Emmet, life stirred. Golegeth slept, but the eggs grew restless, as if sensing something. When Dragonport finally came into view, movement within the eggs had grown feverish and insistent. Emmet was tempted to help the baby dragons escape the shells that bound them, but somehow he knew they wanted to be left alone. It was a rite of passage. Such a thing should not be taken away.

People in Dragonport scrambled when Berigor was spotted, and many lined the airstrip where he landed. A few aircraft were in various states of restoration, but no other flying ships could be seen. Finny approached from the crowd and might have said something. Emmet would never know.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Golegeth was annoyed at being awoken and flew from the saddle. People cried out on seeing him, and he turned a wide circle overhead before making his way to the cliffs. Once over the edge, he dropped from sight like a missile.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

All around Emmet, dragons clawed their ways out of shells. Barabas and Keldon, too, were surrounded by hatching eggs. Wings spread. New voices called out to the world. Baby dragons filled the air. The people of Dragonport stood with their mouths agape. Despite the name, their home had not hosted dragons for centuries. Long had the Heights been the place of dragons, and only when the trade fleets came did the people ever see the majestic creatures. Now strange, four-legged dragons flew among them. Some knocked down children and sat on their chests. Another coiled around a middle-aged mother of two's neck and hissed at anyone who came close. The woman looked ready to faint. The people of Dragonport were hearty and brave, though, and did not scare easily—not even the young. Twenty-three hatchlings claimed people. Most were left in complete confusion when the dragons flew to the cliffs and dropped from view. Children ran to the ledge, adults rushing after, warning them to be careful.

"They're fishing," Emmet shouted. "You might want to get a towel or something."

Not everyone took his meaning, but quite a few made a run for linens before the dragons returned. When they did, chaos ensued.

Barabas and Keldon counseled those bonded to dragons and their families. People's lives had quite suddenly, unexpectedly, and irrevocably changed. Children reveled in their newfound friends, and even those approaching middle age found themselves with dragons eating, sleeping, or preening on their laps or shoulders.

In the following days, Emmet did his best to help others, but nothing mattered more to him in that moment than a saddle. In spite of the changes in him, people still assumed he did not listen to what was said around him, but Emmet had keen ears. Preparations were being made, and the message was clear: Emmet would be left behind. He understood children were not actively used for acts of war, but he no longer felt like a child. He'd already proven himself valuable and capable, even if in the body of a nine-year-old. The people of Dragonport, for their part, had been generous and kind—especially those now bonded to dragons. They looked to Emmet for guidance and understanding. It was a totally new experience for him, and he liked it. Golegeth was a matter of days older than the rest of the hatchlings, but that experience was invaluable for all those going through it for the first time. Even if they did not personally have the things he needed, they managed to find someone else who did. Leather, rawhide, awls, knives, and heavy needles all surrounded him now while he worked.

Golegeth watched from nearby, napping with one eye half open. Emmet had not grown up in the house of a seamstress without learning to stitch, sew, mend, and fold. He'd watched his mother teach Riette all these things and lacked only the muscle memory of having performed the steps so many times, they became second nature. His mother had been able to stitch a quilt, tell Riette what she was doing wrong, and watch Emmet at the same time. He felt a connection with her while he worked and took pride in what he created.

Having no idea how big Golegeth would get—a thought that terrified him—he designed a saddle capable of growing with the dragon. Taking a cue from the Drakon, he created a saddle that would wrap all the way around Golegeth at first then later expand along with his girth. After that, he would just need longer and longer straps. Keeping this in mind, he filled one saddlebag with long strips of leather and buckles.

Finny checked on him often and offered to help if he could. Looking over his handiwork, Emmet decided to take the man up on his offer. After showing him how he wanted the straps routed, Emmet asked Finny to lift the saddle into place. Golegeth wasn't sure about the whole thing. Emmet had fashioned a halter and lines, which Golegeth already wore, that would at least give Emmet something to hold on to while flying. Finny held the lines while Emmet secured the girths. Donning his new flying hat, goggles, gloves, and scarf, he was thankful for the generosity of the people in Dragonport.

"You're not planning to go anywhere, are you?" Finny asked.