Dragon Airways (7 page)

As if his thoughts were heard, the tree responded by shifting in the breeze and offering up the largest bunch of leaves Emmet had seen in their three days of harvesting. When Emmet handed them to the captain, he stopped and marveled at the bundle before placing them in his basket. A long stretch of knotted scrub dominated the shoreline, and only a single saltbark tree clung to life there. The captain hesitated, perhaps considering whether enduring the cold water and currents was worth it. Emmet silently urged him to go. The tree seemed so lonely.

For whatever reason, the tall man waded into waters almost up to his neck. The shoreline beyond was rocky and nothing grew. This was the last tree in the saltbark grove. The captain couldn't do much but hold on to Emmet and keep the basket dry. Emmet did his best to be quick about harvesting what the tree offered, but the tree wanted him to stay. The dragon needed the leaves the tree offered, but the tree needed him. He could feel it. No words were used, only emotions, which Emmet clearly understood. Placing his hands around the trunk, he let the tree touch him as well. Leaves brushed against his hair, and branches rested on his shoulders.

Emotions rushed in and Emmet did nothing to stop the tears flowing down his face. He would have stayed, could have stayed forever. When the captain used two fingers to break his grip on the tree, he felt anger and resentment, but the man trembled beneath him. He didn't know how much time had passed—time really wasn't his thing—but the skies had grown dark. Any longer and it would be a dangerous walk and swim back to camp.

In spite of all that, Emmet wanted to stay, wanted to help this poor, lonely soul who so selflessly gave. He allowed the captain to pull him away, though, and as his hands left the delicate bark, he felt something in his palm. It was a brown teardrop-shaped seed streaked with white stripes.

"Friend," he said without meaning to.

The captain patted him on the leg and moved toward the center of the channel, but Emmet protested, reaching and pointing to a place along the shoreline between the pair of saltbark trees and the one all on its own. At first the captain resisted and followed his original course, but Emmet squirmed and kicked to convey the urgency. After grabbing Emmet's legs to stop him from kicking, the man turned and moved toward where Emmet pointed. Nothing grew there and the captain was a bit perturbed until Emmet showed him the seed. The tall man stopped and marveled, questions flowing in silence. But then he seemed to know what he must do. Lifting the boy from his shoulders with one hand, he lowered him into the water. Emmet knew what he had to do as well.

After sucking in a deep breath, he plunged into the cold water headfirst and eyes open. No matter the burn of salty water and the rays that scattered on his approach, Emmet reached into the sandy bottom and burrowed. In the impression he created, he placed the seed before packing the sand back over it. The captain held him by the breeches, ready to pull Emmet up any second, but the boy was not quite finished yet.

Placing both hands over the sand, he sent emotions to the seed, hoping to return the kindness the tree had shown him. Colorful fish in bright yellows and blues gathered around him now, as if drawn by the energy. It felt as if they approved of what he did and would be there to welcome his new friend when the time arrived. The captain's grip grew less tight, as if he somehow understood. Emmet was grateful. No one had ever really understood him before except Mother. She was gone. Eyes and lungs burning, Emmet thrust himself upward. The captain pulled him back up onto his shoulders, and Emmet clung to the man, shivering.

A cool wind cut across the shallows and bit deeply. The captain strode across the channel with speed and purpose. Seeing a large dorsal fin exploring the waters near Dashiq, he moved with all the speed he could muster.

Upon reaching the shore, he thrust Emmet unceremoniously onto the sand, handed him the basket, and pulled himself from the water with a long groan.

"Friend," Emmet said, shivering and pointing. At least this time he'd meant to say it. The captain nodded and guided him back to the fire.

"We were about to come looking for you," Riette said in disapproval. "Here, get warm," she said to Emmet.

He did as he was told, his teeth chattering. The captain also took a moment to warm himself by the fire before taking the leaves to Dashiq. The dragon hadn't moved from where she hovered, and Emmet marveled at her ability to remain there, as if the planet did not covet her as it did everything else. The shark seemed to have moved on, the dragon more than it wanted to tangle with.

When the captain returned from ministering to Dashiq, he came at the closest thing to a run Emmet had seen from the man. He waved his hand side to side at the fire.

"Help me put this out," Tuck said in whisper.

Emmet was already kicking sand and rocks onto the well-established fire and the surrounding coals. Even covered, it would be impossible to hide the smoke and steam rising from it.

"We need to get ready to go," Tuck added. "I'm not sure what he saw, but I know it's not good."

Riette helped Tuck pack their supplies and ready the carriage. Dashiq winged her way to them a moment later, looking half asleep. Emmet wished she could have had more time to heal in the land's energy. He, too, wanted to stay and soak up the magic he'd longed for all his life. A deep sadness filled him upon realizing he might never experience it again. He was not well traveled or well educated, but he'd never heard tell of such a place before. He could only hope other such places existed or that he might find his way back again, but the captain and Tuck wanted nothing more than to leave. It was unfathomable.

Airship engines became audible, and the rest of the world intruded once again. "There!" someone shouted. "I told you I saw something."

Closer the airship came. It was Midlands construction, but that didn't mean it was under friendly control. In times of war, there were often enemies on both sides.

"You need to get out of here!" a man yelled from the airship. Riette appeared crestfallen, as if she'd expected to see Brick, searching for her. Dashiq looked up to the airship and issued a trumpeting call. The Zjhon didn't have dragons. This was something everyone knew. "The Zjhon are coming!"

"How?" Tuck shouted back. It was the obvious question since this place was well beyond the range of most aircraft.

"They've built floating cities," the man cried back. "Huge ships that act as runways. It's insane." The audacity of the plan left the group speechless. "A few of them sank. We picked up some survivors. They say the Zjhon have come here for some event. Something's supposed to happen." Giving truth to the man's words, a Zjhon warplane flew high overhead, most likely scouting the area. "Best of luck to you! We must warn the people. We barely have enough supplies for the trip, but we must tell them what we've seen. May the gods be with us!"

The airship wandered the winds back toward the Midlands, and Emmet wished them good luck. With Zjhon warplanes in the skies, it seemed unlikely. No matter how urgent their departure, there was no rushing the process of harnessing a dragon. Every strap and buckle existed for a reason, and even the order in which they were secured made a difference. Emmet did his best to help but was mostly in the way. The captain appeared to appreciate the effort, though, so the boy did his best to be useful.

Night had not yet fallen, and already streaks of light knifed through the sky. Larger and brighter than any in the previous nights, these were far more personal. Those so far away had been uncaring and aloof. These paid this world a special visit, and their presence would not soon be forgotten. The air sang with their energy and smelled of sulfur.

The last straps were secured and double-checked by lantern light; shadows grew long and deep. Distorted and frightening, voices carried across water and land alike, nebulous and indistinct at first but growing louder all the time. The silhouettes of balloons and airships filled the skies to the east, the sinking sun disappearing beneath the horizon to the west, providing a colorful backdrop behind the mountain.

Emmet followed Riette into the carriage and began strapping himself in. His sister watched with curiosity and concern. He could think of nothing he'd done to annoy her since reaching the shallows. Perhaps that was what concerned her. It was in itself unusual.

Tuck's sucking in a deep breath wasn't the only indication something was wrong. A long peal of thunder lingered in unnatural fashion and grew louder. A bright flash preceded an explosion, and multiple streaks of light bisected the evening sky. The aircraft in the distance were fully visible for a brief moment, the scale of the invasion force overwhelming, especially considering this place was largely uninhabited. Although, they did appear to be correct that something special was happening—something important.

Roaring like an angry dragon, the next bright light was larger and closer than those before. A wave of energy struck the ground, flattening foliage. Emmet worried for the saltbark trees but would perhaps have been better served to worry about his own safety. This streak of light arced low and struck the rocky soil somewhere between them and the mountain in the west. A towering cloud erupted from the impact site. Another struck the shallows an instant later, sending fine mist into the air above.

Lights sprang to life aboard the Zjhon air fleet, bathing the land below in rings of brightness, as if it were high noon but only in certain places. Emmet had never seen lights so bright. The pillars were fully illuminated, and in spite of seeming so permanent, one toppled over as he watched.

Tuck and the captain boarded after final checks, and Dashiq took to the air with greater ease than Emmet had seen from her yet. It made him feel good to know his efforts contributed to healing the dragon who had saved his life and likely would again.

Flying low over scrub-covered foothills, Dashiq took them closer to where the meteorite landed. A single Zjhon warplane flew in low and fired on them as it moved within range. Dashiq was nimble in her evasion. Soon the plane turned off to avoid the dust cloud still hanging in the air. Dirt and pulverized rock rained on them, pelting Emmet's face. Riette covered his nose and mouth with a kerchief, and he was grateful. No matter how much he annoyed her, she loved him—this he always knew.

Still glowing orange within a rapidly darkening outer shell, a melon-sized stone rested at the center of a crater. Pocked and swirled, it looked as if it had been crafted by time itself. It pulled at Emmet and sheared his thoughts, tugging at his perceptions like a deep, black hole. It felt like everything was happening at once. The captain emptied two thick leather bags and put one inside the other. Then he climbed down and used his cane to roll the stone into the bags, which sizzled and smoked in response. Dashiq pushed the captain back toward his seat and grabbed the bags with one claw. It all happened so quickly. Time continued to compress once again, burying Emmet beneath a mountain of information.

Voices cried out, weapons fired, planes flew past. Lights scoured the land. Airships drew closer, some towing two or even three balloons with lights of their own. They had been seen. The Zjhon were coming. Planes were coming. Only then, when the captain took a moment to lay a hand on him before taking his seat, did Emmet realize he had his hands over his ears and was rocking again. Riette whispered to him, telling him everything was going to be all right, but he knew it wouldn't. In the light of multiple airships was a creature not so different from Dashiq but much larger and having no wings.

"Sea serpent," Tuck whispered, his voice trembling. "I knew they could move on land, but I've never seen one come so far inland. He's a big boy."

"Scary," Emmet said before squeezing his eyes closed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Magic will unite our world or destroy it.

—Argus Kind, usurper king of the Zjhon

* * *

Aboard the airship
Vendetta,
Casta Mett gripped the rails. Lights still streaked through the skies, and no one knew if another meteorite would strike. She'd been right; the ancient texts had been right. This alone exonerated her in her mind, though it wasn't really her opinion that mattered. When the sea serpent appeared, Casta couldn't help but feel the universe was conspiring against her, but this was no time for caution.

"There," Casta shouted, pointing at the cloud of spray glistening in the spotlights. Captain Vaida did not hesitate, knowing this was the reason they had come. Two meteorites had fallen. The one that struck the water would be difficult to find and retrieve; the other would be an easier prize to claim. Part of her wanted to locate it first, but the possibility of two artifacts was more than she could resist. The one on land would wait. Airplanes flew overhead, braving the skies in spite of the fading light and particulate in the air.

As Captain Vaida executed the course correction, Casta saw something that made her blood run cold. Flashing through the spotlights was what could only be a dragon—and not just any dragon but one in particular. Casta Mett hated all dragons, but none did she loathe as much as Dashiq. When her passengers moved through the spotlights, Casta recognized Emmet Pickette and his sister still aboard that ridiculous carriage. Now was the time to kill them all and be done with it. Perhaps victory over one Lord Kind hated so much would take the sting out of losing the boy.

"Change course!" Casta Mett ordered, pointing to where the meteorite had struck solid ground. Other airships were closing on their current position, and she left it to them to retrieve the stone from the water. None of their forces had yet reached the crater site on land. The dust cloud made it difficult for planes and jets to get close.

The airship
Vengeance
was far better designed for this type of mission but lacked the speed of the other craft. It also had a new weapon Casta Mett would love to test on Dashiq: a rotating hammer shot. This ingenious device fired up to a dozen hammer arrows in the time it would take a skilled archer to fire two. There would be no lines attached to these arrows as with traditional hammer arrows, which made it unlikely any arrows fired would ever be retrieved. Judicious use of munitions was called for, and Dashiq was beyond the weapon's range. Grinding her teeth, she watched helplessly while Barabas took the meteorite and Dashiq flew away.

Desperation washed over her. When Argus Kind found out who had beaten them there and claimed his prize, there would be no mercy. Few things enraged Argus Kind more than the mention of the man's name or that of his dragon. Even the Al'Zjhon themselves had been named as a jab at the Drakon and their customs. Argus had done everything within his power to besmirch their reputation and reduce their influence and numbers, and still a single dragon won the day.

Perhaps the planes could have brought the beast down in daylight, but darkness, too, served the dragon. Not for the first time, Casta Mett vowed to wipe all dragons from the planet. They were the one advantage the people of the Heights and Midlands had over the Zjhon, and no matter how much she hated to admit it, they had thwarted her over and over again. Howling with impotent rage, Casta Mett fired hammer arrows into the night, knowing full well none would reach the intended target. This was the last time dragons would beat her, she swore to herself. Knowing Barabas had the boy made everything worse.

Around her, the world continued to change. Columns in the shallows fell, marring what had been a sacred place of power. No matter how much hatred ate at her heart, seeing such a magical and historic place damaged pained her, but it was not her doing. The gods themselves, it seemed, were angry.

A series of flashes from the airship
Dominance
indicated nothing had been found at the underwater impact site. Casta spit on the deck.

"I wouldn't want to be there when Lord Kind finds out about this," Captain Vaida said. "When he hears a single dragon made off with his prize under the nose of an entire fleet, he's not going to be happy." He shook his head.

"We'd best get it back, then, hadn't we?" Casta asked. Vaida was a good man and had done nothing to get in her bad graces, but she would not hesitate to drag him before Argus Kind and let him take the blame.

"What are your orders?" Vaida asked, his flag master ready to convey her will to the rest of the fleet.

"We make for Sparrowport," Casta Mett said. "And we will destroy them. With their airfields in our possession, we'll own both ends of the continent, and we can crush them between us. Even if that were not the case, this is personal."

Someday soon the boy and his sister would return home. They always go home.

* * *

A lonely island with a few scrubby trees felt like paradise to Riette after days in the air. Emmet played in shallow puddles where fish and crabs gathered. Tuck and the captain tended to Dashiq and themselves, which left her to walk the beach alone. Just the act of moving felt glorious, even knowing it would be too brief. She'd seen the Zjhon fleet by way of their lights. The naval fleet dwarfed even the air fleet, and it was obvious this was far more than an exploratory force searching for magic. This was an invasion.

Riette kicked a rock, suspecting they weren't going back to warn the people of Sparrowport or the Midlands. Dashiq knew where she was going and could have easily followed the same path back to Sparrowport, but Riette did not recall seeing this island on the way to the shallows. She also thought their course was taking them much farther east. The captain now kept the strange stone that had fallen from the sky close to him. Putting it near Emmet had caused her brother great stress, and the captain kindly hid it away.

"Magic eater," was all Emmet had said in regard to the stone. How magic could be bad, Riette did not know, but she had stopped automatically disregarding Emmet's words. Often his words were proven correct, even if ill timed.

"Time to go," Tuck said.

Riette sighed and helped Emmet up to his seat. Tuck had her brother strapped in and double-checked before she could get her own straps secured, and she had two fully functional hands. It made her feel clumsy. Tuck checked her straps and patted the captain on the shoulder. She didn't see the captain give the dragon any input, but Dashiq stood and ran along the rocky sands a moment later.

Once back in the air and settled, Riette could no longer hold her tongue. "Where are we going?"

Tuck looked back with guilty surprise; perhaps he hadn't been expecting her to figure it out so soon.

"We're not going back to Sparrowport, are we?"

Tuck's look of guilt grew more distinct. "No."

"Why not?"

"Wouldn't do no good," Tuck said. "Would've been a waste of time."

"A waste of time?"

Tuck looked as if he might crawl up Dashiq's neck to get away from Riette. "What would they have done if we warned them?"

Riette hadn't been expecting that question. "Prepare . . . and send word for help."

"And I bet they've been preparing since we left. Seems to me a Zjhon warplane had been spotted over Sparrowport and even knocked in a couple buildings if I recall. They know."

"But—"

"And we can get the word for help out quicker than they can by going straight to the source."

"We're going to the front?" Riette asked. Her heart fluttered from fear and anticipation. So often she'd dreamed about going to the front and bringing her father home, but it was a most perilous journey. "You think that's safe?"

"Ain't no such thing as 'safe' at the moment," Tuck said, and the captain nodded. "We have something that could help win the war. If you can't be safe, might as well fight."

"What exactly is it that you have?" Riette asked, her voice low and cold.

"Not sure yet," Tuck admitted without looking at her. "But we know the Zjhon really wanted it."

The captain held up his hand, calling for silence, and Dashiq took them into the clouds. Aircraft patrolled the area, and all discussion ceased, but that didn't stop Riette's mind from conjuring one scene after another where all of them died. Having days on end to think about it didn't help. When the coastline finally did come into view, Riette wondered if she knew her geography. What she saw resembled the western boundary of the Jaga swamps: Forest's Edge. The town itself was farther north, but they were technically still in the Midlands. Tuck worked on a written message while they flew. He stuffed a rolled parchment inside a red kerchief filled with dried beans.

Men worked the forests below, and soldiers trained in newly cleared fields. Beyond lay airstrips not much older. Seeing shorter runways than in Sparrowport, Riette was now glad she hadn't taken the diesel plane she'd purchased tickets for. The landings must be terrifying. Even riding atop a dragon, Riette had reservations about coming down amid so many trees.

A dozen or so small farms occupied the few clearings visible in the north. What had once been the most remote farmsteads in the Midlands now supported a burgeoning new hardwood industry and the military's rear post. Most of the aircraft resting alongside the airstrips wore military colors. Signs of those wounded in the war were present to the keen eye, especially as they drew closer to what was easily identified as a medical facility.

Cries of "Dragon!" aroused the community. Even those with wounds freshly bandaged came to windows and doorways to see the dragon land. They were disappointed. Rather than land, Dashiq flew low enough that Tuck was able to toss down the message without its exploding on impact. Confusion and dismay followed.

A gangly man loped onto the field, waving his arms and shouting. Looking extremely disappointed when they soared past, he ran out to retrieve the kerchief of beans. After a brief review, he took the message to where troops practiced.

Within a short time, forces marched west. Riette sat back as they flew east, knowing at least someone would help protect her homeland. The captain had heard her complaint and offered a compromise. By notifying the rear guard directly, he saved time she would have wasted. It gave her some small comfort.

Dashiq kept to the edges of the jungle, flying along the shoreline. When they did reach the grasslands west of the swamp, Riette was grateful. The thought of being anywhere near the jungle terrified her. Better to face the Zjhon than to be eaten by any number of creatures both large and small.

"Last time we were here, the fighting was concentrated in the south," Tuck said under Riette's worried gaze. "We're hoping to come in behind it. Don't worry. This ain't our first go-round. The cap'n knows his business."

* * *

A metal hand on her leg woke Riette from a deep sleep with a start. Tuck holding a finger over his mouth was the first thing her blurry eyes saw. Knowing something was wrong, she woke Emmet and urged him to remain silent. She might have been better off to leave him sleeping, but she knew how he reacted when awoken by something that frightened him. This was no time for uncontrolled shouting.

The sun was just clearing the horizon, and most of what Riette saw were foggy shadows, but when the shapes grew more distinct, it was apparent what those shadows represented. Hundreds of airships, balloons, and other aircraft gathered. Two ship-borne airstrips longer than any others they'd seen looked wide and smooth enough to safely land even the largest aircraft. Twelve engine diesel props dwarfed smaller planes, but the much smaller U-shaped crafts caught Riette's attention. She'd heard rumors of pulse jets in development, and seeing them in Zjhon hands did not bode well for the future. The allies fell further behind every day.

Beyond the airfields, orderly rows of tents formed small, identical cities. It was efficient, calculated, and frightening. The enemy had but to bide their time and build up an overwhelming force. When she thought back to the floating cities, she realized how close they already were to achieving that goal. It was hopeless.

Crosswinds pushed them deeper inland and caused the carriage to strain against the harness. Carried by the wind, the noise caused a nervous soldier to look up. His voice carried back, shouting in alarm. Dashiq flew with all haste. It wouldn't be fast enough. The air was clear, the faint covering of fog remaining below quickly burning off. The great hollowed mountains of the Heights, visible in the distance ahead, teased of safety just beyond reach.

The captain pulled a string, and the "hold on for dear life" sign fizzed to life.

Riette would have laughed, but aircraft firing behind them made it clear the Zjhon were coming. Only the morning dampness worked in their favor. Even with a target in the air, Zjhon pilots knew better than to fly with cold piston engines. There was one noise, though, that rose in pitch and sounded like an approaching hurricane. Streaking across the sky came a U-shaped plane with backswept triangular wings, the oscillating roar awkward and harsh until it found harmonic resonance. Suddenly in perfect synchronization, the jet engine sang a pure note, its exhaust fumes fading into a shimmering clear wash. No matter how deadly, one had to admire the technical achievement.