Dragon Airways (23 page)

"Let's load up what we can and get out of here," Barabas said.

The group bundled up as much of the valuable collection as they could and packed the priceless and potentially dangerous items within saddlebags, pockets, and anywhere else they could manage. Emmet still sensed magic within the mountain and even on the island surrounding him. It was a powerful place, but he left confident he had enough magic to last the rest of his life. He almost felt a little bad for taking the treasure from those on the Firstland, but they had proven poor stewards. He promised to do better and accepted his selfish desire never to become disconnected from the world again.

Golegeth returned not long after Berigor was loaded. The young dragon struggled to reach them, most likely due to the large man on his back. Joren looked terrified and still wore his leather jumpsuit. Brick helped him down after Golegeth landed.

"Are you all right?" Brick asked, guilt and concern evident in his voice.

His father nodded. "That was a terrible idea."

"I know," Brick said.

"I mean a really terrible idea."

"I know." Brick grinned.

* * *

Walking through Sparrowport with Tuck holding her hand was perhaps the happiest moment of Riette's life. In many ways it was also sad, but she concentrated on the good parts. The debris had been cleared from town, and ambitious reconstruction was under way. Those of the Zjhon fleet, stranded in the Midlands, were not themselves evil. Some had refused to integrate with the local peoples and were last seen making boats from wrecked airships, but most had stayed. Progress moved a little more slowly in the world, but that suited Riette just fine. It was unfortunate the decrease in the popularity of traveling by airship or airplane also meant an increase in demand for dragon-based transportation. She would not allow herself to cry.

Tuck held open the door to the smithy, and Riette slipped in. Joren sat to one side, watching Brick fabricate a gear.

"You've got to get the curvature just perfect," the old smith said.

"I know. I know," Brick replied, smiling the whole time. Never before had he been so content. In their younger days, he had longed to do anything but work in the hot, sweaty smithy, but he'd seen his share of adventure now, and the people counted on him to make so many of the things they required. It was good to feel needed.

"Well, well. Look at the two of you lovebirds walking around, trying to make an old man jealous," Joren said when they walked in.

Brick looked up from his work and grinned at them. Then he frowned. "Just a moment," he said and quenched the gear.

"How do you know it was perfect?" Joren asked.

"I know."

"Did you check it?"

"No," Brick admitted.

"Well, then you don't know, and what you don't know you don't know. You know? Always check it."

"I always check before they leave the shop, Dad."

"You're supposed to check it before and after. If you just check it after and it's wrong, then you have to start all over again. What sense does that make?"

Brick stared at his father for a moment before looking back to Riette and Tuck. "I suppose you've come to pick up your gift."

Riette nodded sadly, pursing her lips.

"It really is a lovely gift," Joren said.

Brick shot him a look, and the old smith rolled his eyes. "You know I don't usually work in wood," he said, and he presented a short staff of polished cedar topped by a bronze dragon's claw holding Emmet's favorite chaos sphere. He said it was as if he could see all of creation within its depths, and Riette wondered how much of it was true. It was beautiful and complex indeed, but the universe did not swirl for her the way he said it did for him. It was something she might never understand. If Emmet said it moved, it moved. Thoughts of him were painful, and she took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Well, aren't you going to give her the one you've been working on when you were supposed to be sleeping?" Joren asked.

Brick glared at his father but did not respond. He turned back to Riette. "I made something for you too." He took a moment to stare down his father again before he presented Riette with a staff, her favorite flower marble mounted at the top. Brick had constructed a smooth, straight staff with sweeping lines forming a perfect stem and leaves for the flower trapped in glass. He handed it to her with a grin. Her mouth hung open. Tuck had said he was having a nice box made for it. She had never expected something so perfect. When she closed her hand around it, magic streamed in through her fingertips, and she could no longer hold back her tears. "Thank you," she said. "It's beautiful."

"I talked to Emmet and Barabas this morning, but you tell them I said good-bye," he said, still unwilling to accept a compliment.

Riette nodded. Part of her wanted to drag her feet, as if that would stop him from going. He'd grown so much, so fast, it scared her. But mostly she was grateful for what Dashiq had done. She had given Emmet a chance to do things he might not otherwise have been able to do. Dashiq had helped Riette find understanding and compassion and even forgiveness. It had been difficult, but she had accepted the truth. Having Tuck at her side made it a little easier to bear.

"Thank you both for everything," Riette said before leaving. "We should take some sweet rolls."

Tuck gave her a look that said he knew she was delaying the inevitable, though he did eat two sweet rolls. The walk to the airfield was the completion of a strange circle in her life. There waited a dragon and her brother and Barabas. Tuck squeezed her hand.

She'd come for a proud moment to see her brother off on his journey, but things didn't appear to be going terribly well. An enormous Golegeth, who continued to get bigger with each passing day, dragged Emmet across the airstrip. Bigger did not necessarily translate to more mature.

"He'll be fine," Barabas said while eating a sweet roll. Then he shouted to Emmet, his speech continuing to improve. "Bring him on over here, and let's get this thing on him!"

Golegeth continued dragging Emmet around the airfield, by the looks of it chasing butterflies. The dragon would stop for a moment, wait, wiggle his hind end, and spring into the air using all four legs. Emmet was getting better at predicting when the dragon would jump, but he still had little control over where they went.

"Is this normal?" Riette asked, becoming sincerely concerned for her brother's safety.

Barabas nodded. "Bring him back over here!" he shouted to Emmet.

Riette glared at him when the dragon pounced on the same butterfly for the fifth time.

"All right. You're doing good. Wear him out," Barabas said. He turned back to Riette. "Sometimes you just gotta let them get it out of their system. This one likes butterflies. It'll pass."

"And Emmet?" she asked.

"They're bonding," he said. He laughed from his belly, no longer able to contain his mirth. "He'll be fine. The dragon won't hurt him. That dragon loves that boy, and that boy loves that dragon. We'll get the tierre on him when he's ready. Things like this aren't supposed to come easy."

Riette shook her head and turned her attention to the thing Barabas called a tierre. He'd said it was an ancient word and that Golegeth was the first dragon large enough to warrant one since the last war of power. Rather than a saddle, the tierre was wood and leather construction forming a cabin atop the dragon. It would seat three rows of three on each side of a central aisle. At the front were a pair of comfortable seats and thick, heavy lines with loops of reinforced leather forming handholds.

Emmet approached a moment later, his chest heaving from exertion and his clothes grass stained but a smile on his face. Golegeth followed him, panting. Riette held back a giggle, not wanting to embarrass her brother, but he didn't appear to care. He'd been denied so much in his life, it warmed her soul to see him get to do the thing that made his heart sing. She was going to miss him.

"I brought you this." She handed him the staff.

"You didn't have to go and do that, but—ooh. What is it? Lemme have it. Mine, mine, mine." His eyes went wide when he held the staff in his hands for the first time. "Brick did this?"

Riette nodded.

"He outdid himself."

"He made this one for me," she said, showing him the staff she'd already grown entirely too attached to. She couldn't help it. It made her feel more complete.

It had been Emmet who suggested the lily marble would help make sure she never experienced an episode again. "Perhaps our smith friend has missed his calling. I never pictured him a whittler."

"I'll be sure to tell him you said that," Riette said.

"Wait until I've left if you don't mind."

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"I'm glad you're here," Barabas said. "I hope you didn't just come for the refreshments. We need some help getting this tierre on our big friend here. You got him this time?" Barabas asked Emmet.

He had to be joking, but it was at times difficult to tell. In the end, Tuck and Barabas did most of the heavy lifting, and Riette, her best to guide them. Golegeth snorted the entire time, watching them without blinking, but he allowed them to slide the tierre into place and secure the straps. It was not so unlike the saddle to which he was already accustomed.

Once the cabin was secured, Emmet climbed the rope ladder for the first time and entered the place where he would be the captain. In control of his own destiny, the world was an open canvas. A tough teacher Barabas may be, but he cared for Emmet; of that there was no doubt. It had been a difficult thing for Tuck and Barabas to end their partnership, but things had worked out for the best. Barabas would look after Emmet and Golegeth, and Riette would look after Tuck. She giggled at that thought.

People had begun to arrive at the airfield and watched the events transpire. Soon a balloon drifted toward the airstrip, the pilot using thrusters to steer against the wind. Emmet sat alone in his tierre and had just buckled himself in when Golegeth spotted the balloon. Bouncing on all fours, he looked back at Emmet. His pupils wide, he turned and leaped into the air from a standstill.

"Whoa!" came Emmet's shout from the tierre.

"Uh-oh," Barabas said with a chuckle.

Riette gaped.

"He won't eat anybody," Barabas continued with a lopsided grin. "But I bet they don't know that."

After three times approaching the balloon, Golegeth tired of the game and landed back where he'd started. He looked back at Emmet again, his pupils still wide, as if he found it all immensely amusing.

"You probably shouldn't have let him do that," Barabas said, and Tuck couldn't contain his laughter.

Riette elbowed him in the ribs.

Emmet climbed down, and despite looking a wee bit squeamish, he took his proper place as both barker and pilot—just as Barabas had started out. People disembarking from the balloon cast a wide berth around the dragon who had greeted them. "Fly Dragon Airways," Emmet called out to the first person who passed. "We don't normally scare folks like that."

Emmet smiled at Tuck, who smacked his forehead.

"Fly Dragon Airways," Emmet said to the next man, who grumbled in response. "At least we're friendly, even if perhaps too friendly."

Barabas groaned.

"Fly Dragon Airways. We don't hardly never crash."

Tuck gave Emmet the thumbs-up on that one. Barabas shook his head.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Magic and light are one. Some shine more brightly than others.

—Gemino, sorcerer and artist

* * *

Emmet Pickette was afraid. He was just a boy, and one only recently synchronized with the rest of reality. Always before, Riette had looked after him. She'd taken all responsibility for their lives. He'd wanted to participate but had been prevented by the severity of his former condition. He was free now. The world was wide open, and with Golegeth, no place was too far. It was exhilarating and terrifying. Having Barabas with him bolstered his confidence. The man could have gone anywhere, could have done anything, and yet he'd chosen to remain with Emmet and Golegeth.

The tierre had been constructed by the people of Sparrowport. Everyone had contributed something. The memory misted his eyes. The construction was simple but sturdy and of high quality. Nails, straps, and other fasteners made by Brick and Joren mated sewn leather Riette had stitched. They had even included a flap, which allowed Emmet to reach down and have physical contact with Golegeth. It was something he missed from flying with Dashiq. Flying with his own dragon was not better or worse, but it was different. Sitting in the tierre was more like being in Dashiq's carriage, only sturdier and larger. Pulleys and tensioners at the front of the structure kept the lines from binding or going slack with the movements of the dragon's head. The lines did not control Golegeth in the way magic lines had controlled Argus Kind's dragon, but they did allow Emmet to convey his intentions to his enormous friend.

Golegeth still did not know his size and often acted like a mere hatchling. It had taken a great deal of effort to break him of the habit of eating in Emmet's lap. There were times, though, when he did exactly as Emmet asked, and he seemed to understand when he could get away with misbehaving. Dashiq had taken control of events on numerous occasions, which colored some of Emmet's fears. What if the dragon decided to go somewhere he didn't want to go? It was an uncomfortable feeling, even if Golegeth was currently behaving himself and following Emmet's input.

Barabas helped. He understood the landscape and showed Emmet how to use maps, landmarks, and even the stars to navigate.
When Dragonport came into view, the sight was distressing. The port through which most Midlands trade came was in complete chaos. The detritus of war had been cleared away, but twenty-three dragons perched upon rooftops and milled about in seeming disarray. There was no clear spot to land. Only when horns sounded, announcing Golegeth's arrival, did some sense of order prevail. The skies above Dragonport erupted with dragons not much smaller than Golegeth. Emmet's dragon had grown quickly, perhaps because of need. His clutchmates, who were collectively and lovingly known as Dashiq's Revenge, were all just a little bit behind him developmentally. It was among the reasons they had come here first. If not for the other dragons and their chosen, he would have gone back to the shallows—perhaps permanently. It was tempting but it didn't feel right when he could possibly help so many people. Barabas was a wealth of information with regard to rearing dragons, and the word from Dragonport was that they needed all the help they could get. The thought that someone might need Barabas more than he did also gnawed at his resolve.

He was Emmet Pickette, war hero, magic user, and dragon rider. He'd always dreamed of finding magic, but the other parts were still difficult to believe. Should not someone who'd achieved such things have also left fear behind? Apparently not. The dragons approaching only added to his concerns. There was no order, no collective will. Dragons whipped past them, roaring in greeting. Screams grew louder then faded when a dragon flew past, his chosen dangling from one claw. Emmet shouldn't have laughed. Even Barabas had difficulty restraining his mirth. What were they getting themselves into?

More dragons streamed past, and two now flanked them, looking almost giddy to see their slightly older brother. Golegeth radiated excitement. When he turned back to look at them and roar, his pupils were wide and his nostrils flared. It was an uncomfortable feeling, being atop a dragon who was hurtling through the air and not watching where they were going. Golegeth proved he was in complete control and made Emmet's fears once again seem unfounded. It was a lot of change to adapt to all at once. Barabas must have sensed his unease and gave him a reassuring pat on the knee.

When Golegeth landed, he displayed inherent grace and innate skill. That did not mean his passengers disembarked without event, though. The other dragons landed all around, far closer together than seemed wise, and Golegeth turned in place to greet them. Dragons snuffled at the tierre, blowing Emmet's hair with excited bursts of breath. Without parents to guide them, these dragons had to learn how to be dragons mostly on their own and it showed. In the excitement, a storage building was knocked over, along with several clotheslines. The people of Dragonport took it in stride and set about cleaning up the mess. Already they had grown accustomed to the chaos, but Emmet wondered if he would ever do the same. Eventually Golegeth stood still long enough to allow Emmet and Barabas to climb down.

Finny came to greet them. "Thank the gods you're here!" Emmet couldn't help but laugh again. Finny took no offense but looked haggard. "It's like raising toddlers as tall as oak trees," he continued, gesticulating.

"You've done well, my friend," Barabas said. "Some things we must simply endure and see through."

"I'm not sure I can do it," Finny admitted. "I love Lodiarch, but I think she might be the death of me. Just yesterday she took me fishing. It's not as much fun as it sounds. Believe me."

Barabas didn't laugh but came close.

"You're the first ones here. Can I get you something warm to eat?"

Barabas appeared as if he might decline, and Emmet kicked him lightly in the shin.

"Say no more."

Before Finny returned with steaming fish pies, the horns sounded again. Dragons—including Golegeth—took to the sky. Emmet hoped the dragons would be careful and not damage the tierre, but he couldn't really do much about it. Even if they had thought to remove the tierre, it was unlikely the dragons would have made it easy for them. The air still sang of excitement, and Emmet found his own hands shaking when he accepted a fish pie. When he glanced back up, Berigor approached. Al'Drak was now smaller than all of Dashiq's get. These would be the largest dragons anyone alive had ever seen—legends in the flesh. So many of the old tales continued to prove themselves true, Emmet could only imagine what the future would hold.

Berigor did not share the younger dragons' enthusiasm, and his roar sent the others scattering to the wind. In the ensuing silence came diesel engines. Larger than any aircraft before it, the eight-engine plane had a wingspan larger than any dragon. This was a plane capable of flying from the Firstland to Sparrowport without ever refueling. News of its construction had reached them long before, but seeing such an impressive and historical engineering feat was an experience none would soon forget.

"Eat your pie before it gets cold," Barabas said.

Embarrassed for gaping like a fish, Emmet did as he was told and didn't regret it. The pie had reached the perfect temperature to be eaten without burning his tongue and the roof of his mouth and where the flavor was at its richest. This was not everyday fare. The people of Dragonport had prepared a reception fit for a king even if that was the very thing they sought to make sure was relegated to the past. If the people aboard the airplane upheld their promise, Argus Kind would be the last king.

Escorted by dragons, the plane slowed its approach and lined up with the landing strip. Only when the plane moved over the airstrip did the dragons veer off. They landed a moment later, giving the plane much wider berth, unsure what to make of it. When the delegation for the Firstland emerged, the people looked pale and afraid. Emmet understood their fears; he was still trying to quell a few of his own. No matter how Finny tried to reassure them the dragons were friendly, the Firstland delegation stayed huddled together, trying to appear regal and failing. Dragons snuffled around them and the plane.

"Just let them get a good whiff of you," Finny said. "Or they'll never leave you alone. They won't hurt you, but I definitely do not advise running away."

Berigor landed a moment later, and his roar sent the younger dragons scattering. Golegeth hid behind Emmet. This was a battle dragon. There could be no doubt. He stood tall. His wings partly extended, he dared anyone to challenge him. He was Al'Drak and everyone knew it. Keldon sat, steely eyed in the saddle, looking as if he'd aged a decade since Emmet last saw him. The older dragon tilted his head and acknowledged Golegeth, who then danced around the older dragon with unrestrained glee, wiggling his hindquarters.

Keldon let the excited dragon get it out of his system before climbing down to greet Barabas and Emmet, who had moved closer. "It's good to see you, my friends."

"And you," Barabas said.

Emmet gave Keldon a hug that clearly made the man uncomfortable.

"Someone is going to have to teach these dragons some discipline," Keldon said with a look of disapproval.

"You're just the man for the job," Barabas said, and they both laughed.

"Are you sure you won't take the position back?" Keldon asked.

Barabas shook his head. "Not for all the gold in the Heights."

Though they joked, the toll the position had taken on Keldon was plain to see. His hair was graying rapidly, and the lines around his eyes had grown deeper.

"I've already tried to get the clutch moved to the Heights, but the dragons refuse to leave Dragonport. What use is it being Al'Drakon if no one listens?"

Chuckling, Barabas nodded. "What use indeed."

"You do agree that Drak are Drak regardless of their breeding, though, correct?"

Barabas had done his best to avoid involvement in politics—especially Drakon politics. "It is not my opinion that counts," he said after a long moment. "It is the opinions of those dragons and their bonded that are important. Without their hearts and minds, it will make no difference what words you use. In truth, if you win them over, it still won't matter what you call them."

"You are wiser than I ever gave you credit for."

Barabas nodded again. "Wisdom comes at a cost. Don't rush it. When at last people tell you that you're wise, you'll long to have back the innocence you lost. It can be a bitter reward. After all, ignorance can be fun, albeit dangerous at times."

"If you will aid me, perhaps I can have the benefit of both?" Keldon asked.

It took a long moment for Barabas to respond. "I will be your friend, Keldon. I can promise no more than that. If you find my counsel helpful at times, I'd welcome it, but I fear you'll have to forge your own path."

"I suppose we should greet our new allies," Keldon said. Barabas walked beside him in silent agreement. Emmet followed unbidden.

Golegeth watched with concerned interest. It was clear he did not trust these people. But then, the dragon did not really trust anyone other than Emmet and Barabas. It was something they would have to work on.

A bald man with a short white beard approached a place on the plateau that had been cleared, at his arm, a young woman. "I am Rodram. I stand for the people of the Firstland. This is my granddaughter Lienna. She will attend me if you will allow the indulgence. I'm not so weak that I cannot walk, but her presence brings me comfort."

"You are welcome here. I am Fineous Wermer, and I've been asked to speak on behalf of the Midlands."

"I am Keldon Tallowborn, Al'Drakon and representative of the Heights. I welcome you in peace."

Barabas said nothing but took Emmet's hand in his own. Pain and memory flowed between them. Barabas had lost everything he held dear to the war with Argus Kind and the Firstland. Dashiq was gone and they had hastened her demise. So many friends, fellow soldiers, and Drakon had been lost in a pointless war. No one had gained a thing. These were not easy things to let go, and tears streamed down the old warrior's cheeks.

"I see you, Barabas DeGuiere," Rodram said unexpectedly. "We all know who you are, how well you fought, and what you've lost. I won't claim to know your pain, but I will tell you that it hasn't been for naught. No more will our lands be divided by petty hatred." From within his robes he pulled a rolled parchment. A table and benches were brought to the clearing, and Rodram seated himself. "We have read the treaty you've proposed, and we find it not only acceptable but very gracious. We thank you for not punishing us for the actions of the one who has been deposed."

His unwillingness to even speak the name Argus Kind illustrated how he felt about the man, which suited Emmet just fine. He suspected those around him felt the same based on their reactions. Even the dragons were quiet and respectful, as if the solemn nature of this meeting were known to them. Golegeth watched intently while all three men signed multiple copies of the treaty and affixed their seals. Those assembled watched in silence. When the last seal had been pressed into glossy red wax, Berigor issued a trumpeting call. All at once the dragons took flight. How they managed not to collide and knock each other from the sky was a mystery, but they soon scattered. It was a sight that gave Emmet chills. Such majesty and might, and one belonged to him. Emmet couldn't help but remind himself it was the other way around. Golegeth had chosen him before ever escaping his shell.