Dragon Airways (22 page)

Argus Kind sat behind Deacon Rex, the Al'Zjhon who held glowing lines that seemed to bite into the creature with lightning and fire whenever he yanked on them. Crying out in impotent fury, the wild dragon seethed. The self-declared king was armed with something that looked like a crossbow with a luminous bolt nocked, but he held it to one side. In his other hand, he held a metal horn that amplified his voice. Clearly he'd thought this through. This was a devious, hateful man bent on revenge who had set a deadly trap. Again, Riette squirmed.

"You always were a sentimental fool, Barabas," Argus said, his voice booming through the valleys. "And now it will be the end of you. I told you long ago kindness was your greatest weakness. That and willful foolhardiness. You knew I would be waiting for you. And now you are not the only one with a dragon. How do you like my pet?"

"Beautiful creature. Deserves to be free, not enslaved by magic," Barabas said in response, his deep voice carrying well, slurred speech loud and evident.

Argus Kind laughed. A moment later, he spoke without a trace of humor. "You have something that belongs to me. I want it back. And I have something you might want back. Make me a trade, and I will let you leave in peace. But I know you won't do that. Therefore we must face the alternative, where I kill you all."

The wild dragon thrashed the air and reared up beneath Argus. Deacon Rex yanked on the lines. The mighty giant roared in pain. Its tail twitched. Bile rose in Riette's throat.

"You just have to break their spirits," Argus said afterward. "Just like people."

With those words, he raised the strange crossbow and aimed at the table where Tuck and Riette sat. He smiled at her a moment before pulling the trigger. Everything happened so fast, Riette had no time to react.

A bolt of blue light raced toward her and slammed into the table. Her chair toppled over backward, and Riette felt the sting of shrapnel. Dust filled the air and obscured her vision. Pulling herself up, she was still uncertain if she were hurt. On trembling knees, she looked over the dust and the wreckage of the table to see Tuck pushing out from under his chair.

Whirring sounds began to echo in what must have been intentional silence. Argus Kind was a showman. Even before he'd killed the rightful king and named himself successor, he'd been a spectacle, known for criticizing society's fascination with executions then carrying out those very executions. Now his airships were about to close off any possible routes of escape. How Argus Kind must fear Barabas DeGuiere, Riette thought, to have planned such a massive and inescapable trap for an old man who appeared to have lost his dragon. Riette knew Dashiq was gone. Even in a moment of such imminent danger, her heart broke with the knowledge. She thought of Tuck and how he must feel, even as two airships came into view. Argus Kind laughed.

A third airship appeared a moment later traveling at a different trajectory. Shouting echoed within a narrow point in the valley. The airships were already dangerously close together. From the third dirigible, someone jumped.

Agger and Grunt came up behind where Riette crouched. They did not assault her but did prevent her from seeking shelter deeper within the mountain. Bait. When Tuck made his way to her, no one tried to stop him.

"Give me Azzakkan's Eye, and I will let you go," Argus Kind said, his crossbow pulsing with blue light and aimed directly at Riette and Tuck. They had played right into his plan, giving him a single target.

Berigor turned around, clinging to the mountainside, his wings spread and neck coiled in an aggressive posture, ready to strike. Hissing like a cornered viper, he exaggerated his size. The wild dragon above issued a low, guttural growl like rolling drums Riette felt in her bones. There was no panic, no posturing, only the secure knowledge he was the more powerful of the two bull dragons present. The air reeked of aggression and fear.

Another person jumped from the third airship just before it struck one of the first two broadside, the attacking airship radiating steam and fire. Constricted by the valley walls, all three airships collided. Even the wild dragon retreated when the explosions began. Suddenly the air was filled with debris, shrapnel, and people leaping from airships. Most immediately deployed their parachutes, but some skimmed through the air on wing flaps sewn into their flight suits, including the two from the attacking airship.

Berigor wore his war saddle, which seated two people, but he also wore the ancient saddle Dashiq had once worn behind it. It was further confirmation the dragon had died, and Riette continued to mourn the loss. Never had she known she could love a creature such as a dragon, that such true friendship and loyalty were possible. She was proud to have known Dashiq the battle dragon.

Her body tingling with adrenaline, time slowed, leaving Riette disconnected from the events around her. She and Tuck could not simply climb into the saddle and escape, even with the airships destroyed. Argus Kind had assembled an overwhelming force, and perhaps rightfully so. Berigor did not appear ready to go down without a fight.

Looking back into the cavern for a split second, Casta Mett's face was illuminated by the fiery explosions, shock and panic registering in her expression. Moving toward Riette and Tuck, she leveled her staff and them, the light around her taking on a bluish green hue. Thunder rumbled within the chamber, low and deep as the woman's temper got the better of her. The promise of death filled her eyes. Then Riette's view was blocked. Tuck stepped between them.

"I've had about enough of you," Tuck said, and it was perhaps the bravest thing Riette had ever seen. He was no match for this powerful woman now wielding ancient magic, yet he stood tall and strong. The woman did not smile or laugh but instead continued forward, the light emanating from the tip of the staff growing brighter with each step. She wanted Riette to know what was coming, to know how she would die. Casta Mett was no better than Argus Kind. She was a killer and a performer, and it made Riette sick.

Time compressed.

Events moved so fast, her thoughts could not keep pace. Berigor leaped away from the mountain and attacked the wild dragon. Another soon filled the space. Far smaller than Dashiq had been, a four-legged creature bearing Riette's brother landed within the cavern.

Emmet met her eyes, and she saw something that had rarely been there before but that she'd always known existed deep down within him—connection, synchronicity. At that moment her own connection with time felt tenuous, the flow of events accelerating and decelerating, stretching and compressing. It was almost what she imagined Emmet must have felt, which overwhelmed her with fear and compassion. Emmet trapped her in his gaze and communicated with her.

It's going to be all right. I've come for you,
his eyes said.

Casta Mett released her energy, no longer aimed at Riette but now at the smaller dragon. Emmet had no magic, no defenses. The dragon he rode looked so young and inexperienced. Riette could barely keep up with all the input. Sounds amplified and sights rushed in. Soon she found herself in a ball on the floor with her hands over her ears and her eyes squeezed shut. This had happened to Emmet so many times that she'd become desensitized—perhaps at times lacking empathy for his condition. Now she understood and it shamed her. Tears in her eyes, she rocked.

CHAPTER TWENTY

First rule of dragon riding: Never pretend you're in complete control.

—Barabas DeGuiere, dragon rider

* * *

Emmet Pickette watched in horror, realizing his sister had fallen into what looked like one of his episodes. Knowing all too well the overwhelming sensation, his heart raced in empathy. Always before he'd thought there was nothing anyone could do to help him during his episodes, but now he understood better. From the hem of his coat, he pulled the two stones Keldon had given him, each containing a small reserve of energy—one slightly more than the other. Using the very last magic available to him, Emmet soothed his sister and ignored the Al'Zjhon. He was defenseless and Golegeth was no match for ancient magic, but neither was Emmet. In the end, he was compelled to do for his sister what she had always wanted to do for him.

Emmet Pickette let the magic flow through him until it was gone. Now chalky and white, the stones were depleted. Not wanting to destroy them as he had his first stone, he would draw on them no more. With trembling hands, he put them back in the wooden box and into his jacket.

Light erupted from Casta Mett's staff, and Golegeth cried out in pain. He thrashed the air, his tail whipping back and forth, and Emmet was taken along for the ride. No matter how brave coming here may have been, he stood no chance against the Al'Zjhon.

It shamed him that he could not save his sister the way she had always done for him. She looked back with understanding and gratitude, though. At least she was conscious and able to act in her own defense now. Perhaps hope still existed.

Golegeth hopped awkwardly, not putting any weight on his right front leg. Casta Mett aimed at him again, the light growing brighter. When a dark shape flashed through the air and slammed into her, Emmet didn't know what to think. One moment she'd been standing there, and the next, she was gone. Two bodies collided—one moving at high speed and the other standing still. The air leaving their bodies was painful to hear, and they tumbled to the back of the hall, one looking like an overstuffed sack about to burst. Behind him came ropes and a small explosion followed by a wall of canvas. Perhaps not in the way it had been designed, the parachute caught on the broken table and did slow the man down some. Emmet had to shake his head when he thought he recognized Brick. It seemed impossible, yet there he was, out cold on top of Casta Mett, who also did not move.

Emmet heard the terrifying battle behind him and turned to see, unable to resist the need to know what took place outside. Too powerful was the instinct to watch his back. Objects within the cavern called to him, but they would have to wait a moment longer. Berigor reached Argus and his dragon. The two beasts now clung to each other in a deadly embrace, tails wrapped around each other and massive jaws open and ready to make the kill. Barabas and Keldon were helpless as the larger dragon overwhelmed Berigor, and though he issued dragon fire, the wild dragon was able to physically dominate him and direct the deadly fire into empty air.

His friends were about to die. Golegeth cried out, lunging toward Agger and Grunt, who now moved toward Riette and Tuck with malicious intent. Striking each in the chest in rapid succession with his closed mouth, the dragon knocked them backward, the air rushing from their lungs. Brick now stood behind the two men, caught them, and knocked their heads together. Casta Mett remained still, beside her a staff radiating power and a stone that sucked the light from the room. When Emmet was filled with power, the stone was like a deep hole in space into which he might fall and never been seen again. He found it disturbing yet alluring. He knew what the sky stone was and what it could do. Casta Mett would use it to make herself immune to magical attacks, and that was an advantage Emmet wanted to take from her—permanently.

Golegeth must have understood his desire or responded to his movements within the saddle and his input through the lines. Taking him closer to Casta Mett's still form, the dragon leaned down low, allowing Emmet to reach the stone without having to leave the saddle. No sooner had his fingers closed around cold stone than the air around him exploded. Magic, lightning, and fire erupted around Emmet but mostly struck Golegeth.

The dragon reared back in shock and pain, his heart racing hard enough that Emmet felt it. Gleaming lines issued sparks and filaments of light, each biting into the dragon, reaching in behind tough scales and inflicting acute pain. Casta Mett stood smiling in spite of the blood that ran down her forehead. In her hands were lines like those Deacon Rex used to control Argus Kind's dragon. Emmet and Golegeth had fallen into their trap. It was then he realized it might have been him they wanted all along. Though Argus Kind may have had a long-standing feud with Barabas, the man was long past his prime and would not pose much of a threat without his dragon.

Azzakkan's Eye was indeed a prize worth fighting over, but Emmet could be so much more. His ability to sense and locate magic made him the most valuable thing of all. And he'd foolishly flown right into their hands, bringing with him a young, impressionable dragon. Barabas had told him to stay back, but Golegeth read his deepest desires and brought him here anyway. Emmet could not blame the dragon since he truly wanted nothing more than to save his sister and his friend. How could he blame the creature for being brave enough to come here and try to fulfill his wishes? He could not. Now, though, the dragon was already paying a price. The thought of Golegeth's life being spent in captivity and denied free will was physically painful—a fate perhaps even worse than death.

There was a difference between the relationships he and Barabas and Keldon had with their dragons and what Argus Kind had done to the poor creature he rode. Golegeth stayed with Emmet not because he was constrained by magic, but because he cared about him. One might even say he loved Emmet; they were family. What Argus Kind did was to enslave a creature and destroy its spirit.

This was the fate Golegeth now faced, and Emmet tried to release himself from the saddle, to find some way to reach Casta Mett and stop her no matter the cost. Struggling, he held on to the sky stone, despite its making his skin crawl while leeching energy from the air around it. Lightning arced between the outstretched stone and the magic lines over Golegeth's head. For an instant, the radiance pulsing through the lines was interrupted. Ordinary metal links making up the chain were revealed. Golegeth turned back toward Emmet until the sky stone and the lines touched. The previously glowing magic lines went dark.

Golegeth swung his head violently, the chains still wrapped around Casta Mett's wrists. Cast along the smooth floor, skidding to a stop just before the entrance, Casta Mett slowly toppled over the edge. The metal lines snapped tight, and Golegeth stumbled forward, pulled by her weight.

Just outside the cavern, Berigor's neck was exposed, and the wild dragon lashed out. Emmet watched in stunned horror, his mind failing to process the information quickly enough to save his valiant friends, but his sister had been watching. Released from her episode, she had seen what the sky stone did to the lines, and she did what he could not. After snatching the sky stone from Emmet's grip, she threw it with all her strength just as massive jaws came close enough to buffet him with a rush of wind. The sky stone flew, tumbling end over end, striking the wild dragon in the jaw, connecting solidly with the lines restraining the majestic beast. The force of the impact not only interrupted the energy flowing through the lines but also sheared through the metal rings on one side. Even when the energy did begin to flow once again, it was greatly diminished.

The dragon collided with Berigor but did not bite down on his neck as he could have. Instead he thrashed his head from side to side, yanking the lines from Deacon Rex's hands. The man sat in his saddle, stunned. When the towering dragon turned and gazed down on him, the lines still dangling from his head, Deacon Rex screamed. In an instant, he was gone.

Argus Kind had already realized his fate and aimed his light bow at his own dragon. The beast glared at him, daring him to discharge the weapon. The usurper king pulled the trigger. A bolt of light and fire struck the beast in the jaw, just below its artificial eye socket. It staggered back, pushing away from Berigor. Before the larger dragon could get away, though, Berigor had an opening. Lashing out at the larger dragon's throat, he did not go for the killing blow as Emmet had expected; instead, he latched on to the still glowing lines. With a single tug, he freed the mighty dragon from its chains. The giant roared and chuffed, shaking its head and rattling Argus in the saddle. Having been violently whipped back and forth, Argus Kind was still trying to return to his senses when the light bow was yanked from his limp grip. When he did come to, he screamed. The dragon tossed the ancient artifact into the valley and flew out to sea, apparently not yet finished with Argus Kind, whose screams gradually faded.

Emmet slumped in the saddle for a moment, overcome with emotion and pride for his sister, who stood in the entranceway, her hands over her mouth. Golegeth peeked over the ledge. Casta Mett still held on to the lines. She dangled above a terrace; the fall probably wouldn't kill her, but it was unlikely to leave her uninjured. The lines remained wrapped around her wrist, but her other hand was free and still held the staff.

Golegeth began pulling her up. Without ever changing the expression on her dour face, the woman reached up and unleashed an attack on the lines themselves, which snapped under the assault and sent her tumbling to the stone below. After shaking off the remains of the lines looped over his own neck, Golegeth leaped down to where Casta Mett had fallen. Within a sandy garden, they found the staff, but the woman was gone. When they returned to the upper chamber, Agger and Grunt were also gone. Berigor rested on an adjacent portico, his saddles currently empty. Barabas and Keldon waited inside with Riette and Tuck.

Emmet climbed down from Golegeth's back. The dragon immediately launched himself into the air and flew away. Emmet prayed he would not get himself killed.

When Emmet looked back to Riette, she met his eyes. No words were exchanged between them; none were required. Tears welled in both their eyes, and he ran to her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry for everything."

Riette sobbed. "I've always loved you. Even when I behaved poorly."

"I know. I know."

"And now I might understand a little better myself," she said. "Thank you for helping me. How . . . did . . . this happen?"

"Magic. Dashiq used her last magic to knock me back into synchronization with time."

Riette chewed on those words. "That's what it was like for you all the time, wasn't it? What I experienced was one of your episodes, wasn't it?"

"I think so."

"I'm going to have to keep an eye on you," Tuck interjected. "Nice throw, by the way."

Riette laughed and elbowed him. Tuck winced in pain. "I'm so sorry!"

"Oh," Tuck grunted. "Don't worry. It'll heal eventually."

Berigor sniffed at the group then chuffed in satisfaction. None of them were seriously injured, and for the moment, no one threatened them.

"We should get out of here," Barabas said.

Keldon nodded in agreement.

Emmet pointed to the back of the chamber, "Magic."

Barabas appeared torn but was unable to resist the temptation. He and Tuck had searched the rest of the world for magic without ever finding a fraction of what Argus Kind had in his collection. The man had not had a lick of magic in him yet hoarded the greatest magics remaining in the world. "How much are we talking about here?" Barabas asked.

"It feels like a lot," Emmet said.

Riette continued to stare at him. "I'm sorry, my brother," Riette said. "You are far more intelligent than I had given you credit for."

"It wasn't your fault—or mine."

Keldon went first, moving deeper into the mountain. Tuck and Barabas did their best to reinforce the man in case they encountered trouble. Thus far the halls had been empty and silent, but no one let down their guard. Emmet let the magic draw him onward. He moved in selfish interest, though he knew it would serve them all. Even with Argus Kind gone, such magic still threatened the world. It occurred to him that simply transferring the possession of such a collection would not necessarily ameliorate the danger. When the magic washed over him in waves and the light shone so brightly, he had to cover his eyes, Emmet was thrilled to see a collection not so different from the one they had destroyed, albeit smaller. In some ways, destroying the stash of magic items had been against his own self-interest, but such were the consequences of war.

Seeing an array of glass spheres suspended on delicate stands made his heart race. Without actually meaning to, he picked one up. It was warm and slick in his hands. Power pulsed through the object, honed and refined by the form and structure of the glass. Swirls of color backed one side, but the other half revealed a translucent world of chaos. It swirled and danced within as he turned it in his hand. Another contained a blooming flower—springtime forever captured in glass. Emmet marveled over its beauty and tried to figure out how one could capture a flower in molten glass and leave it perfectly intact, looking fresh as if still on the vine. Six staves filled a rack on the wall, and one broken light bow remained. For Emmet, even a single glass sphere was a treasure beyond reckoning.