Dragon Airways (5 page)

"Better than you are. Strap in tight."

No matter how stupid he might seem at times, Grunt cinched his straps tight.

Orange and white cliffs jutted from the ocean, capped with trees and a narrow strip of grassland. Farther north were the main Sparrowport airstrips, but landing a stolen plane there was asking for trouble. Instead, he aimed for a place atop the bluffs, hidden from town by a towering peak.

"Maybe we should just head back to the western fleet and blame Casta for blowing our cover," Grunt suggested.

Agger laughed. "She's his favorite."

"He hates her."

"Exactly," Agger said. "Now shut up and do what I tell you for a change. It'll make it easier on both of us."

"You don't have to be mean about it," Grunt said.

The man was a walking pile driver, and Agger hurt his feelings.

The cliffs drew closer, and all conversation ceased. Neither of them wanted to die. Winds tossed the plane, causing it to pitch and roll. As soon as Agger countered one blasting gust, the wind shifted, growing cold and causing them to drop like a stone.

Grunt started talking again, his words unfit for a pirate's ears. With his feet on the dash and holding the handle above his head, he screamed louder the closer the bluffs drew. Agger was tempted to knock him out just to shut him up, but he'd seen others attempt to do so and fail miserably. Sometimes it was best to learn from the mistakes of others and save yourself the scars. Besides, Grunt really couldn't land this plane in Agger's estimation.

Gripping the controls tightly, Agger flew the stolen passenger plane sideways into the secluded valley, countering heavy crosswinds. When tires touched grass, the aircraft was yanked hard to the right and bounced along a rock-strewn field.

"This was a bad idea," Grunt said as objects streaked past on either side.

Agger did everything he could to slow the plane without flipping it over or onto a wingtip. After a third bounce, the landing gear caught in the turf and brought them to an abrupt halt.

"I can't believe we're alive," Grunt said.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Agger replied.

"You're welcome. Now to see if this bird will still fly. That woman is just crazy enough to leave us here."

Agger climbed down and inspected the airplane. Grass and soil clogged the front wheels, but the gear appeared otherwise undamaged. Grunt tried to pull a clump of grass away from the brakes and sucked in a breath when he burned his finger on the shining disks.

There was no hiding the plane. They just had to hope no one would come looking or that Casta Mett kept her word and picked them up an hour after nightfall. Both seemed slim hopes at the moment.

The town of Sparrowport was only a short walk away, which was part of what worried Agger. He'd rather have been forced to climb sheer rock faces than be so easily discovered out in the open. The people on this day, though, had plenty of other things to keep them occupied. Fighting in the street and stolen planes must have caused quite a stir.

Agger led Grunt to a place on the side of the nearby peak where they could watch. Sparrowport swarmed with activity, as he'd expected, and he reconsidered his plan. How were they supposed to kidnap someone from a town on high alert? And in particular, how was he supposed to move anywhere with any stealth having the heavy-footed Grunt right behind him? Agger was fairly certain his shadow's boots were made of concrete.

As darkness fell, the true scale of their challenge became evident. In addition to the streetlights, lanterns could be seen moving up and down the avenues. Even children patrolled the streets, ready to shout at the sight of anything out of place. Agger wondered if Destin Brightwood was among them. All he could do was operate under the assumption that the unpopular boy would remain home. His family's wealth had not been enough to overcome his unusual looks and mannerisms. Finding out such things was what Agger did best. If only he could identify magic or those able to sense it. Like the Pickette boy. He could not be certain, but he assumed that was who had taken the golden knife from right under their noses.

"You really shouldn't have shot that chap, you know," he said to Grunt. "That's probably what got the kid up. He was more than likely standing there when our friend expired." How else could he explain it?

Grunt remained silent. It was probably the wiser strategy, and Agger shut his mouth. Neither had wanted to enter town from the airfields, as most did. Better to scale the walls near the wealthy end of the residential district. Even if the main avenues were heavily patrolled, plenty of side streets and alleys remained in the shadows.

Despite their bickering, Agger and Grunt worked as a team and helped each other down a rock face and over a low wall. When they dropped into a narrow alley, it was like entering a different world. Here every window and gutter could hold eyes, ready to raise the alarm. No matter how skilled, they were immensely outnumbered, even if mostly by children and those too old to fight. Far better to slip in and out unseen.

Moving through darkened alleys, Agger stayed to the center to avoid unseen obstacles. He'd memorized a map of this place and knew where they needed to go. Grunt followed, looking lost and confused. When he tripped over a metal can, it came as little surprise. Agger sighed and drew his blade. No one came.

Grunt giggled.

"Idiot," Agger said. "How did you ever survive the cutting camps?"

"I have skills," Grunt said.

"I would have tossed you out," Agger continued. "It's only by luck that you haven't gotten us killed yet."

"Oh, they tried to cut me three different times."

"And how'd you get past that?"

From the darkness came a dock rat, a dirty blade in hand. Grunt never flinched. Reaching out with viselike fingers, he pinched the man's wrist in a way that made bones pop. Agger was certain the man would be screaming in pain if not for the elbow Grunt drove into his nose.

"I showed them my skills," he said with a grin. "Do you think this kid has magic?" he asked a moment later.

Agger shrugged. "Casta doesn't think so, but we can't trust anything she says. Making us look bad is a hobby of hers."

"Maybe if we find this Emmet Pickette kid, Lord Kind will have less need of Casta Mett."

"And if she finds him first?" Agger asked.

"We're going to need a new kid."

"This kid is weird, and we're not going back empty-handed. Unless you have any better ideas. I suppose we could beat up everyone we see along the way."

Grunt laughed a little too loudly. Agger glared at him. They were nearing the wealthiest district, which was the last place they wanted to draw attention to themselves. These people didn't have to be on guard since they could afford to pay someone else to be on guard for them. As a result, these streets were patrolled more heavily than anywhere else.

"You wait here," Agger whispered to Grunt after a watchman walked past.

Grunt nodded.

Through the night, Agger raced. He'd already identified the door he wanted to target. A metal fence and gate stood in his way. At a full run, he used the metal post holding the gate, since that would be the strongest one, to vault himself over the fence. Landing on soft soles with bent knees, he made only a soft patter.

The lock awaiting him looked far more secure than it actually was. After only a moment of fishing for the center pin, he released the catch. The door slid open, and Agger was halfway inside when the screeching started. With a lump in his throat, he turned to see Grunt open the gate, enter the courtyard, and close the noisy gate behind himself.

"Sorry," he said in a whisper.

Agger was tempted to kill him then and there. Grunt followed him into the house in spite of his insistence otherwise. Why Lord Kind had chosen to handicap Agger in such a way was unfathomable and a waste of his talents. Even in his anger, he knew he would never say those words to his king. He liked his head where it was.

"Stay here," Agger mouthed.

Grunt nodded.

Agger barely resisted the urge to knock the stupid grin from the man's face, but there was entirely too much at risk.

After moving through the pantry and kitchen, Agger climbed the stairs, keeping his weight out close to the edges, where it would be better supported and less likely to cause the stairs to give him away. When he reached the top and turned the corner, the stairs behind him creaked loudly. It was everything he could do not to vent his anger and frustration on Grunt. The man was an incompetent oaf.

In his rage, Agger missed the telltale signs of a loose board in the hallway. When his boots landed on the slight impression in the carpet, it groaned.

"What are you doing out of bed, boy?"

The man's voice sent a sharp chill through Agger. Footsteps behind him indicated Grunt had abandoned stealth. Charging into the room, he said nothing. After a thud and a few grunts, he returned.

Agger just looked at him in pure astonishment.

"It's a good thing I was here," Grunt said. "I probably just saved your life."

No words left Agger's lips. He stood in incredulous silence.

"Come on," Grunt said. "We don't want to just wait around here and gape. Let's get the boy and go."

Someday Agger would find a way to repay Grunt for his help. At that moment, though, he followed the thickheaded man to a closed door two doors down from where the man Agger assumed was the boy's father had been sleeping.

Grunt opened the door with exaggerated slowness but managed to do so quietly. Within, Destin Brightwood slept. Grunt grabbed him and slung him over his shoulder.

"What? Hey?" Destin said.

"Keep your mouth shut, and I won't kill you," Grunt said. "I got the kid. Let's go."

Agger just shook his head. The boy looked at him with terror-filled eyes. Agger just gave him a sad smile back. "I'll try not to kill you either. Just be a good boy, and everything will be fine."

Getting the kid back over the wall and up the rock face proved difficult, but eventually they hauled him up like a sack of potatoes. To his credit, the kid remained silent the entire time. Grunt proved to be excellent motivation.

Moving in the darkness was dangerous and time consuming. Now Agger was grateful for the short distance they needed to cover. He cursed it again when they peeked back into the small valley. At least a dozen lanterns moved in close proximity of the plane they had stolen and left there. So much for their backup plan. She had better not leave them there.

"I'll kill her if she doesn't show," Grunt said as if reading his mind. That alone was a scary thought.

When ropes suddenly appeared in the meadow before them, Agger could hardly believe it. Hovering above them in near silence was an airship, Casta Mett staring down at him.

Grunt shoved the kid up onto a rope. "Climb or die, kid."

Destin climbed. Agger grabbed the rope closest to him and left the ground with familiar reticence. Power and control were no longer his. Now he was simply a passenger. In that moment, the people below spotted the airship and ran toward the ropes. The crew moved with alacrity, and the humming above grew louder. Within moments, they moved out over the cliffs. Agger Dan tried not to look down.

CHAPTER FIVE

Mercy is a sure sign of weakness.

—Casta Mett, Al'Zjhon

* * *

After days in the air, no one smiled much. Places to land were few and tended to be clustered together, which was less useful for Riette's current purposes. Deep, blackish blue waves in every direction became monotonous, making it feel as if they were stuck in one place and would never reach their destination. Riette began to question if any of them even knew where they were going. Only the dragon's innate senses allayed her fears. The dragon read the wind and danced with it. Her flight was graceful and largely uneventful, contrary to how airplane flight was often described. There were indeed advantages to dragons. Tuck pointed and Riette expected to see some tiny rock sticking up out of the waves or a narrow strip of sand. These had been their only refuges during the journey, and Riette hoped never to need them again. Knowing it was inevitable did nothing to quell the knots in her gut. Seeing the faint outline of the largest mountain she'd ever seen left her speechless.

"That's where we're going," Tuck said.

Riette couldn't decide if she was elated or terrified. The end of the journey was most welcome, but she had no idea what awaited her and Emmet. Whatever motives these people had for helping her would soon be known, now that she and Emmet were completely reliant on them for survival. It was a risk she'd known she had been taking, but that didn't reduce her anxiety. She wanted to trust these people who had been so kind to her and had perhaps saved her life, but her propensity for caution would not be overcome, it was what had kept them alive this long.

"Not many folks come here," Tuck said. "We should be safe. Most other places are a long ways off."

That thought alone quelled some of Riette's fears. There had been plenty of opportunity to hurt them, and she did not think these people meant her or Emmet personal harm. Slowly she began to trust. What other choice did she have?

The mountain wasn't the only thing to rise from the depths. A large land mass ran alongside it, a monolithic shelf dropping into deep water. Running through this land mass was a shallow channel, looking like veins of marble in the land, stark white sands standing out amid lush greenery. A ring of pillars taller than any tree Riette had ever seen marked the entrance to the shallows. Twenty-four in all made for an awe-inspiring sight. One stood slightly askew, and signs of cracking were visible. Twisted visages had been carved into the pillars, giving them a much more ominous appearance. Flying low across the waves, Riette could almost feel the dragon's sense of anticipation.

The waters amid the circle of pillars swirled in a permanent but shifting vortex. Smaller funnels broke off from the central maelstrom, each roaring at its own pitch. Not expecting the dragon to fly right into the center, Riette drew a sharp breath. As if passing through an invisible waterfall, the energy changed around them; even the air was cooler. Below, a rotating maelstrom roared with a haunting sucking sound. Its edges not always well defined, the vortex wall danced and moved, but toward the center was a place that clearly stayed dry. There rested an amber statuette, glowing even in the shadow of the water surrounding it. How had it gotten there? Riette asked herself, her curiosity afire.

"Magic," Emmet said. Riette was unable to dispute it. Even the captain nodded in agreement.

"She just wants to bask a bit before dropping us off on land," Tuck said. "This is her favorite part. I think this place helps her somehow."

The dragon's posture and stance made the truth of his words clear. Somehow hovering in the air above the vortex, her eyes closed and muscles relaxed, she looked more comfortable here than any time since they had met. For a brief moment, Riette enjoyed being happy for the dragon. Dashiq sighed and turned on a wingtip toward a scrubby piece of land with a fire pit and campsite in place. The dragon waited impatiently for everyone to unload then stared at the captain for a long moment.

Tuck saw the exchange and immediately began loosening straps and buckles. "Can you help us with this?" Tuck asked. "She needs to heal."

A snide comment about asking passengers to be part of the crew never left her lips. She wanted Dashiq to heal. Emmet started working on some of the lowest buckles without being asked. Tuck nodded and pointed to the next strap the boy should unhook. Riette worried about Emmet getting hurt, but Tuck was so confident, she allowed the risk. She reached up high to grab a strap, and her eyes met the captain's. He watched her every reaction, and she, his. When she glanced at Dashiq and went back to work on the strap, he nodded and did the same. He might have smiled, but Riette's attention was on her struggle with the buckle, which was bound up and holding most of the weight, making it uncomfortable for the dragon, who shifted on her feet. The captain grabbed the harness on both sides and lifted, taking the strain off the strap, which allowed Riette to quickly unbuckle it and move on to the next. Dashiq gave a woof of appreciation.

"Now around back here," Tuck said when the last buckle was released. "We just grab here, lift, and walk." The dragon slipped nimbly from beneath the carriage and immediately flew back to the vortex. "And down," Tuck said.

Though lighter than expected, the carriage was still bulky and awkward, and Riette was happy to lower it to the ground. What worried her was having to put the carriage and saddle back onto Dashiq before they could leave. She tried not to think about it. When a snake slipped into the scraggly weeds surrounding the campsite, watching where she stepped became much more important.

"Don't let none of the snakes around here bite you," Tuck said. "They won't exactly kill you, but you won't live too long neither. And avoid the spiders. And when you go in the water, stay away from eels and deep water. Trust me. Shallow water is bad enough."

Trembling, Riette stood frozen and tried to watch everywhere around her at once.

"Oh, don't worry . . . What was your name again?"

"Riette," she said. "And—"

"And he's Emmet," Tuck said. You've mentioned him a couple times. "It's just that he don't never really talk back to you that way."

"No. He doesn't. Except sometimes. I look into his eyes, and I see him there, trying to tell me something important but he can't. And what he does say doesn't always make sense, or it's poorly timed. I don't know why or how, he just has a knack for saying the exact wrong thing at the exact right time."

"Such a nice kid," Tuck said.

Riette looked to see Emmet stripping down to his long shorts and following the captain, who had done the same. Shaking her head, she was ready to shout for them to stop when Emmet reached out his hand. The tall man stopped, and Emmet's hand disappeared into his oversized grip.

"He'll be fine," Tuck said.

Taking a deep breath and wiping away the tear that slipped from her eye, Riette let Emmet go. She trusted the captain and Tuck and Dashiq. It was not a small moment in her life. Much of what she had loved and trusted had been taken from her, and few had ever managed to penetrate the barriers she erected around herself.

Sitting down next to her, Tuck extended his fully formed hand and took hers. Her first instinct was to pull away, but she didn't want to this time. She didn't want to hide for the rest of her life. She wanted someone to truly know who she was and want her for that, rather than what she chose to show the world.

As night fell, the captain and Emmet returned, soggy and tired but bearing fish, salty fruit, and sparkling leaves.

"Are you hurt at all?" Tuck asked Riette.

"A few scrapes and bruises," she said. "But Emmet might be worse off than I am. I'm supposed to do inspections for cuts and bruises, but I haven't yet. So much has changed, and I just forgot." Familiar guilt returned.

"He already had some saltbark leaf by the looks of him," Tuck said, and the boy grinned back.

The captain stoked the small fire Tuck had built while Tuck offered Riette a single glittering leaf encased in translucent crystals. He held it as if it were a great treasure. "Place this on your tongue, and let the crystals dissolve, then chew the leaf and swallow. It won't hurt you neither way."

Riette decided proper grammar was not always required for communication, though it pained her to do so. The leaf was so beautiful and the presentation so intriguing, Riette accepted it and examined it thoroughly before opening her mouth. Even the smell was magical: sweet, tangy, and salty. Before any of the crystals fell off, she slipped the leaf onto her tongue. The saltiness was almost overwhelming at first, but that soon passed, followed by a light sweetness. In a few moments, only the leaf remained, and she savored its citrus tang.

Resting next to the fire, she and Tuck watched the skies, amazed to see bits of light streaking through them. Everyone had heard of shooting stars, and Riette had even seen one once, but never like this. Every fifth breath brought another streak, all moving in the same direction. Away from the lights of town, the stars were even brighter in the night sky, and that night, with Tuck holding her hand, the stars danced. Riette dreamed of fire in the skies.

* * *

Within the hallowed halls of Ri, the world's first city carved into a mountain, walked a stern-faced woman. Not far away stood a very different kind of hollow mountain. The contrast was an unwelcome reminder of past and, more important, present weaknesses. Without the advantage dragons afforded, the Heights would have fallen long ago. Casta Mett had no love for dragons, but she did appreciate their tactical advantages. The Zjhon were limited to mostly metal, wood, canvas . . . and magic. The last part kept Casta focused. Argus Kind had already assembled the greatest collection of magical artifacts ever known to exist, and sometimes he let her bathe in its power. Other times, he did not. Sent her to find her own replacement, she was allowed naught but the magic she brought into their relationship. Lord Kind said that was itself a kindness since he did not let anyone else retain magic. She was no ordinary soldier. She was Al'Zjhon. She did his bidding, and he needed her to be effective.

Fingering a worn artifact, she once again appreciated the power it granted. Agger, on the other hand, knew nothing of magic. His specialty was tracking people. Her specialty was tracking magic. The two did not always mix well. The boy he and Grunt had taken looked a little odd, with big ears and dark freckles, but not a lick of magic. Identifying other people who can use magic was not among her talents, but she had worked out a simple test using her artifact. When Agger and Grunt presented the boy to Argus, he used a similar test. Holding a sparkling bauble in one hand and Azzakkan's Eye mostly concealed in his other, he watched the boy's eyes. The boy followed the sparkling bauble and never even glanced at the other hand.

"I don't even know why I waste my time," Argus Kind said. "The only thing you two ever brought me was her." He pointed his thumb at Casta. "And my patience with her is wearing thin. Watch her closely. She's withholding information."

Few things were worse than having someone talk about you as if you weren't there, but having the king insinuate she was a traitor put her on more dangerous ground than she had anticipated.

Argus turned and regarded her. "Come on, then. Show me the trinket you've brought me to satisfy my appetite for power."

Again, she was caught off her guard. Fondling the small metal device she'd been holding for that exact purpose, she questioned whether to give it to him or not. He would have her searched, and she had no desire to go through that again. Instead, she essentially admitted her guilt by handing him the mechanical box.

"And let me guess. This won't actually be of any use to me in the war, but it is if great historical value."

It was true. It wasn't her fault not all artifacts were weapons. And magic was magic. The artifact she used to find magic made no distinction based on the purpose of any given artifact, only that it contained a certain amount of power. Such was the mechanical box.

"When the goddess returns to the skies," Casta said. "This machine will tell you how many comets will be in the sky on any given date and the size of the largest."

"I'm certain that will be quite useful in a couple thousand years, but it does me little good. Why did you bring me this?"

"I was drawn to it by the residual power it holds. I thought it would make a good addition to your collection."

"This is war. I need potent magic and a better way of finding it. No more useless trinkets. Bring something or someone useful, or don't come back, any of you."

His words stung. Even though she knew not to expect kindness from him, she had not expected open contempt. Always before she'd held his favor by leading him to fantastic stashes of magical items. Now fewer things remained to be found, and he'd caught on to her turning a single discovery into many smaller ones. Other collections of ancient artifacts were hidden on the Firstland and elsewhere, but Casta Mett had seen how devastating some of those items could be. No matter her ambitions, she did not want anything capable of destroying the world falling into Argus Kind's hands. He was just the kind of egomaniac to destroy the world because he couldn't have everything he wanted.

"Perhaps we should deploy the magic we've already found and put an end to the dragons once and for all," Casta said, despite knowing it was a dangerous subject. It would solve their biggest problem.