Dragon Airways (9 page)

"Assuming they truly are weak," General Katch interjected, but he still looked to Tuck to see what the boy would say.

"I guess you're just going to have to decide which way you want to die," Tuck said.

Riette held her breath, fearing her friend had gone too far. She had no time to wonder at the thought of actually having a friend.

With a barking laugh, General Katch turned to the captain. "You've taught the boy well."

"He's wrong," the captain said. Surprise and hurt showed on Tuck's visage, but the older man squeezed his shoulder. "Their defenses will be considerable. I agree with his suggestion nonetheless. Better to die taking the fight to Argus Kind than through attrition."

"I don't like you," General Katch said. "And I don't like what you did, but you are correct in this."

Barabas nodded but before he could say another word, shouting erupted in the halls. "No weapons in the war room," a guard shouted from outside just before the chamber door burst open.

The man who entered was among the least friendly looking people Riette had ever seen and she trembled. Beside her, Tuck must have sensed her distress, for he took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. The gesture brought feelings she did not understand, but she forced them down.

"What is
he
doing here?" the warrior's question was an accusation toward everyone gathered, and few met his eyes. Tuck was among those few, which incensed the man even further.

"Barabas has brought dire news, Al'Drakon," General Katch said, "and an object sought by the Zjhon, though it is of unknown utility."

"And you bring the traitor here, so he can see our plans and report our weaknesses back to the enemy?"

"No matter what you think of Barabas," General Katch said, "no one has offered proof he serves anyone but his own people."

"He used the last of our magic to save himself and a dragon who has lived beyond her years," Al'Drakon said. "That is proof enough. He took from us the only chance we had of defeating Argus Kind."

Barabas stood tall and did not flinch under the accusations.

"You know that's not true," General Katch said. "Had he allowed Dashiq to die, the Zjhon would have captured the magic anyway. Better to have the power used to save one of our own than to fall into the enemy's hands along with all the rest."

"One of our own," Al'Drakon spit. "You're a fool who cannot see when he's been betrayed."

"Al'Drakon is a position of great honor that affords you complete power over the Drakon, but it does not grant you the right to insubordination. You've come armed into a sacred space. This is forbidden. Do not make me judge you as harshly as you judge him. The purity and sanctity of this chamber have been maintained through ritual and honor for a thousand years, and today you mar that record. Do not force me to have you removed."

The tension in the room held most in silent rigidity, but Tuck glared at the man in open contempt.

Al'Drakon cleared his battle axe from its mighty sheath. "Who would you have remove me? I risk my life and that of the Drakon every time I leave to defend this place, and you side with a traitor!"

"I side with no one but my own counsel," General Katch said, not backing down from the open aggression. His eyes showed no fear. "I've no more love for Barabas DeGuiere than you, but we do not always get to choose our allies. The news he brings is dire and his counsel sound. A wise man would at least hear his words."

Al'Drakon allowed his axe to rest once again in its sheath, still in violation of protocol. Crossing his arms over his chest, he silently dared anyone to challenge him.

"The Zjhon have built floating airfields and have outflanked us," General Katch said.

"And you've seen this yourself?" Al'Drakon asked with clear contempt.

"No," General Katch admitted. "This news is too recent to have been verified, but aircraft are being readied as we speak. In the meantime, we would be wise to consider the counsel afforded us and make our own decisions."

"What, then, does the traitor advise?" Al'Drakon asked, now glaring directly at Barabas, who did not meet the warrior's eyes.

"He and his companions have advised us to take the fight to Argus Kind."

"And leave the homeland undefended? Ha!" Al'Drakon barked a harsh laugh. "Why not just surrender?"

"What would you do?" Tuck asked. All eyes turned on him, and none were friendly. "Keep doing what you've been doing? Have you driven the Zjhon back? No! And yet you ignore folks wiser than you."

"Be quiet, boy," Barabas said, pulling Tuck back from the table. The young man looked ready to leap across the war models and fight Al'Drakon himself. His hand, still gripping Riette's, trembled with rage but did not pull away, as if he took strength from her.

"Ah, the traitor speaks!" Al'Drakon said, and the captain finally met his eyes. "It seems the last of our magic was not enough to preserve your pretty mouth. Pity. Are there any other precious resources we might squander to preserve your useless hide, Al'Drakon?"

"I relinquished my right to that title," Barabas said. "But I did not give up my right to serve my homeland and her people. Think of me what you wish, but accept the truth. We are already defeated. If we take the fight to the Firstland, at least we can inflict some pain on them before we are too weak to do anything more than die."

"By the sound of your speech," Al'Drakon said. "You'll be the first among us to die. Not soon enough for me."

No matter how much the warrior goaded him, Barabas remained calm and humble. This fueled the warrior's anger. When a dozen guards entered the room and surrounded Al'Drakon, the font of his rage would no longer be contained. He brought his axe to bear, making Riette fear he would slaughter them all. Instead, he hurled it at the ancient wooden doors. The mighty weapon cleaved the mural carved there, causing irreparable damage to the masterful artwork. "Take it," he said. "I do not need it. My bare hands are all I need to wring the necks of fools, or do you think to deprive me of those as well? Come. Take them if you dare. For all your foolish protocol and ritual, you cannot change the fact that we are all weapons—some far more effective than others."

Slowly and without turning their backs on him, the guards retreated. One man grabbed the axe handle and worked it free of the door. A moment later they left the room and closed the damaged doors behind themselves. Emmet fidgeted beside Riette and let go of her hand to pull at loose threads in the hem of his jacket.

"Stop that," Riette scolded, but her attention was soon drawn away.

"I won't claim to understand all the rituals and protocols, Al'Drakon," General Katch said. "The ancients left us more riddles than answers, but our fathers taught us the things they did for a reason. And their fathers before that. I'll not abandon their teachings because you find them inconvenient. If we must perish, then let us do so with our heads high and our honor intact."

More dragon riders slipped into the room, gathering behind their leader. At least none appeared to be armed, but the tension in the room grew. Even General Katch looked nervous.

"And why are there children in the war room?" Al'Drakon asked. "Does that not fly in the face of your teachings?"

"I brought them here," Commander Gerrig said. "Not all those in the Heights act with integrity these days, and I was left to fear for their safety. They arrived with Barabas DeGuiere and are under my protection."

Al'Drakon spit on the floor. "You choose the companions of a traitor over your own people."

"If you call him a traitor again," Tuck said through gritted teeth, "you'll have to deal with me."

This brought laughter from many in the room. Some laughed at Tuck, but others laughed at the much larger warrior. Both flushed deep red.

"I said be quiet, boy," Barabas growled.

"Speak to me in that manner again, and there'll be no one who can save you," Al'Drakon said.

"You might frighten some folks," Tuck said, his hand clenching tightly around Riette's, the captain's hand seemingly the only thing holding him back, "but I ain't one of those people. If you want my respect, stop acting like a spoiled child."

"Silence!" General Katch said. "One more word out of either of you, and you'll speak next from the dungeons. Have I made myself clear?"

Al'Drakon ignored the general and continued to glare at Tuck and Barabas. Tuck, though, turned to General Katch and inclined his head in a sign of acquiescence and respect.

"Barabas DeGuiere has brought us intelligence . . . which will be verified," the general said, stifling any more words from Al'Drakon. "And he's brought us an artifact that may yet be of use to us even if we do not yet fully understand it. He's kept this object from the Zjhon and turned it over to us. That is an honorable act. Once we've verified the intelligence, he and his companions will be free to go. Until then, he's to be confined to dignitary quarters along with his companions. They are to be treated as honored guests and will be guarded at all times so they do not have to worry about anyone bearing them ill will. If there's nothing else, you may all leave.
Now.
"

No one moved. Barabas appeared to be fighting some inner battle. "There is one more thing," he said before the guards could lead them away.

General Katch held up his fist in silent command.

Tuck squeezed Riette's hand and looked to her with regret in his eyes. Never had she been so terrified and confused. All the times she'd questioned the captain's intentions came back in a rush. Never had he asked for payment or explained why he'd taken her and Emmet away from Sparrowport. Her guts twisted.

"The boy is special."

Cold fear was like a knife in Riette's gut. She pulled away from Tuck in anger.

"Don't," Tuck said but he never got the chance to say more.

"I brought him here because I believe he can sense magic."

Everyone began to talk at once. Anger, resentment, and incredulity filled the room. Riette turned to Tuck with hatred in her eyes, no matter his pained expression. He had betrayed her. They both had betrayed her. "You monster!" she screamed at Barabas. He accepted the accusation and remained silent. "How are you any better than the Zjhon? You wanted the same thing they did. At least they were honest about their intentions. You lied to me!"

"Once a traitor, always a traitor," Al'Drakon said.

In the commotion, Riette lost track of Emmet, and she searched for him frantically, despite knowing there was nothing she could do to save him now. Deep within the Heights, there was no chance of escape. Barabas DeGuiere had doomed them as surely as if he had taken them directly to Argus Kind. Still, she could not help but try to protect her brother. At that moment, the rest of those assembled realized the boy had disappeared. Riette hoped he did possess some magic that would allow him to escape even if she could not.

Then she saw him, though, crawling on all fours beneath the table, making his way to the back of the chamber, where a pair of sconces flanked what looked like a shrine of some sort. Knowing others would follow her gaze, she pretended to search the rest of the chamber for him, all the while trying to analyze the shrine's every detail. Dark gray liquid filled glass containers on a slab of alabaster. Within black stone was a subtle inset, barely visible but distinct in its form. When Emmet emerged from under the table, he held in his hand something like a golden dagger, equally distinct in its form—the inverse of the cavity he moved toward.

Unable to fathom how her brother had come by such an item or what he intended to do next, Riette watched in silent horror. Then she remembered the footprints in the hallway. The room exploded with activity when others followed her now static stare and saw the boy approaching what appeared to be a sacred place. With quickness she hadn't known he possessed, Emmet reached up and placed the golden dagger into the orifice in which it fit so perfectly.

A dagger it was not; what Emmet held was a key.

CHAPTER NINE

Dragon Airways. Stay clear of the pointy bits.

—Tuck, dragon groom

* * *

Time slowed. Emmet moved beneath the enormous table, making his way toward what looked like a shrine. It called to him, just as the dagger had but far more loudly. The rest of the world faded away. Only the key and the altar existed. He understood now. Everything became clear. The other people in the room moved in slow motion, and Emmet took his chance. All his life he'd yearned for magic, and finally it was before him in all its glory. A foot of rock stood in the way, but he had the key. Though it possessed magic of its own, the key was but a gateway to the real thing.

Not hesitating, Emmet placed the golden artifact within the impression that had waited a thousand years to receive it. The fit was close and clean. Torches, their flames dancing slowly, illuminated gray liquid in an intricate glass vessel on one side of the altar and clear liquid on the other. Those apparatuses fed long necks embedded in stone.

The key seated fully. A bright flash and a loud pop made Emmet cover his eyes. Pungent smoke drifted in tendrils above the altar. The liquids drained from the glassworks into the rock wall, the gray liquid forming a sparkling vortex, as if the liquid were somehow metallic. Nothing happened at first, but then a low grinding sound that Emmet could feel in the soles of his feet emanated from stone. It grew louder over time, and finally the granite altar moved. The thick slab retracted into the wall with agonizing slowness. Inside, a glistening object shone. Before anyone else could get close enough to see, Emmet slipped his hand inside, grabbed the gleaming object, and stashed it in his coat.

Inexorably the altar slid open, and soon the men reached him, pulling him back until time compressed once again. Everything happened at once, and Emmet curled into a ball, waiting for it to pass.

* * *

Riette watched in horror as Emmet triggered some kind of reaction at the altar. He'd been right all along. She had doubted him but he'd known. Each realization made Riette feel worse. Her brother had gifts, and she had purposefully overlooked them. Now she saw him through new eyes, even while trying to figure out how to save him. Slipping under the table, she followed the same path he'd taken and grabbed him by the jacket while the rest of the people in the room focused on the altar. He did not resist; instead, he followed her back to where they had been standing.

Feeling impotent and afraid, all Riette could think of to do was stand still and pretend nothing had happened. It was a stupid plan, which made her furious with herself. Tears would not be contained, making her even angrier.

"I'm sorry," Tuck said.

Riette glared at him, filled with rage. He recoiled. She was proud of herself for not speaking. Had she done so, someone would surely have noticed how extensive her vocabulary was. Instead, the altar's contents entranced them. Riette couldn't see from where she stood, and her imagination reeled with possibilities. General Katch had one of his men retrieve an item from within the altar, and everyone held their breath when he reached inside, hoping the tales of treasure guarded with traps were not true in this case.

Perhaps the key had disarmed any traps or none had ever existed, but the man pulled his hand free to a chorus of relief. A small wooden box covered in gold filigree rested in his palm, and at the general's nod, he opened the serpent-shaped clasp. Riette stood on her toes, trying to get a look at what was inside, but her view was blocked. Eventually she was able to glimpse a pair of clear gemstones. One was clear, at least. The other was streaked with white.

"Cache stones," Al'Drakon said with a hint of reverence. He did not admit Barabas had brought something of real value, but he did take a long look at Emmet. It made Riette shiver. So many emotions and so much stress ran through her, she thought she might crack.

This was not the first time she and Emmet had faced death, and she squeezed his hand in reassurance. He had a glazed look in his eyes, and she wasn't certain he could hear her at the moment, but she knew he was in there. He'd always been there. It had been impossible for Riette to understand why he did some of the things he did. His actions and words had made her life difficult at times, and she had resented that, but now she felt a great deal more. It went so much deeper. He was her brother, and she needed to help him. All his ramblings about magic had been real. Finally she knew what she had to do. Her purpose was clear. She would find a way to get him whatever magic he needed.

"Now let us go," she said loudly and in her firmest tone. "My brother has given you a tremendous gift, and now all we ask is that you
let us go.
"

"You'll be on a flight once the fog lifts in the morning," General Katch said, and no one dared say otherwise. "Take them to guest suites, and see to their needs," the general said to his guards, and the men led Riette, Emmet, Tuck, and Barabas from the room. Every turn made Riette feel more like she was trapped, as if she were being taken deeper into a stone prison. Guards stood watch at each junction. Sneaking out of the hold would be impossible. Even if it were possible, they wouldn't be able to just board a dragon or plane and fly away. Never had she felt so confined and powerless. Emmet, on the other hand, was unafraid. She took strength from his walking calmly beside her, as if taking a stroll through the park.

When the guards stopped before ornate double doors, Riette felt a little safer given the luxury of the accommodations. Steaming baths had already been drawn in stone basins fed by channels cut through solid rock. The place was a marvel, and not all of it was hard and cold. The carpets here were plush and soft. Sleeping pillows of such size and depth Riette had never seen before and the sheets adorning them called to her. Toward the back of the hall was a private chamber, complete with baths and pillow beds . . . and a door. Riette wasted no time claiming the room for her and Emmet, and to her surprise, no one argued.

Not long after she settled into a bath, a knock came at the door. "Some refreshment for the lady and her brother."

Hearing a female voice, Riette allowed the woman to enter. She was so glad she did. The woman had a kind look about her, and she carried a tray laden with the most delightful-looking morsels. Without saying a word, she put down the tray, bowed her head, and left. Riette and Emmet shared the feast until only a few crumbs remained on the tray. Riette didn't know the name of the tangy sparkling drink, but she couldn't get enough. When that, too, was gone, she could no longer keep her eyes open. The rush of the day's events had passed, and now she felt drained. The pillows embraced her like a long-lost friend, and Riette slept.

* * *

"Do not scold me," General Katch said.

Al'Drakon stared back, implacable. "Then do not do so to me. We've both done what we thought was right." Silence was agreement enough. "I don't like Barabas DeGuiere, but he may have at last done his duty. While it does not forgive his past crimes, I must acknowledge what he's done."

"It's not enough," the general said. "Even if we send our full strength, that little bit of magic will not be enough to conquer someone who's been stockpiling artifacts for years."

"Stockpiling," Al'Drakon said. "All that magic in one place. All we would need is a trigger . . . and to know where exactly the stockpiles are."

"You can't think to take the child into battle!"

"The kid dies either way. My way is just faster," Al'Drakon said. "You think me harsh and crass, but which is better, to leave the boy to starve or to give him a chance at being the greatest hero his people have ever known?"

General Katch rubbed his temples. His life had been reduced to impossible choices. Almost every path led to utter chaos and destruction. No one would win this war. Argus Kind failed to see he was destroying the things he coveted. By conquering the Heights and the Midlands and even all the Jaga, for what the swamp was worth, he rendered it a shell of its former self. Such a waste.

The Midlands were indefensible from naval air strikes. It was a painful truth that gave the general shivers. Never had he thought Zjhon aircraft capable of reaching the Mids, let alone being able to refuel and return. Once they took over the western airfields, only the Heights would remain free, and they were already prisoners within the hollowed mountains.

"What other choice do we have?" asked Al'Drakon.

"I don't like it," the general reiterated.

"I don't like any of this, but if there's even a fraction of a chance we can win this war, then I'm acting on it."

"I won't stand in your way," the general said with a deep sigh.

"That's all the help I need."

"I know," General Katch said. He watched the dragon rider go with deep resignation and overwhelming regret. He was a better man than this. They were better people. But desperate people did things of which they would never have dreamed themselves capable.

Even if the man were correct and succeeded in his audacious plan, it would hardly secure victory. The Zjhon had used very little magic in the war—a war they were clearly winning. If the Drakon failed to destroy all the magic, would the executioner-made-king lash out with every weapon remaining to him? It was a frightening thought. Without the Drakon, the Heights would fall more quickly. After that, not much mattered.

With few choices remaining, General Katch grimly orchestrated final defenses.

* * *

Shadows stirred in the darkness, silent but undeniable. Emmet watched a muscular man approach from the direction of what had previously appeared to be solid stone, but the illusion had been destroyed. Riette snored loudly from nearby, masking any noises Al'Drakon might have made. She was so peaceful in that moment, and Emmet was happy for her. This was how he wanted to remember her.

Knowing what was coming, he hoped life for her would be easier without him, even though he knew it wasn't true. To make a sound was to wake Riette and most likely result in her death; she would never let him go without a fight, even one she knew she couldn't win. Emmet could not have that on his conscience. Riette meant everything to him. She'd done for him things no one else would have or could have done. She had endured more than any one person should ever have to.

Dressed in full battle gear, Al'Drakon smiled at Emmet. Somehow they had an understanding. Emmet would help them save the world, and they would be nice to his sister. It was enough. Emmet put on his boots and gathered his things in silence.

The warrior's expression showed both respect and surprise. In the end, he held out his oversized, calloused hand. Emmet took it and quietly walked alongside him. A final glance back to Riette left him with a quivering lip and tears in his eyes. The dragon rider let go of his hand and patted him on the back.

Now that the decision was made and their escape nearly complete, Emmet wanted to get on with it. He understood what they needed of him. He was the child who could sense magic. They wanted him to find magic. It was the one thing he did well.

Most conversations held in his presence operated under the assumption that he did not listen, pay attention, or understand, but he heard everything—experienced everything. Sometimes it was too much, and he wished to forget, but he could not. The bright side was that he was almost always underestimated, and he knew how to use that to his advantage—sometimes. In this case, the fate of everything he knew rested on him and the Drakon. The thought made him feel small and woefully insufficient. To ride with the legendary dragon fighting force was something of which most kids in the Midlands dreamed, but now Emmet Pickette was afraid.

The tunnel ended in a place like nothing he had ever seen. A giant cave opened into the night sky. Stalactites hung down from high above. The cavern floor was mostly smooth except for occasional stalagmite clusters polished into swirling spirals. From one wall, moss crept, slowly taking over. Covered in green, a face carved into the stone spewed clear water from its mouth. A pool formed below, ringed with equally moss-covered stones.

If not for other amazing sights, Emmet might have strayed—the urge to explore was strong. The dragons awaiting them resembled Dashiq except they were bigger and less friendly. They wore saddles similar to what Barabas and Tuck rode in, but there was no buggy strapped to the dragon behind those saddles. Emmet was a little disappointed. These dragons carried a cargo of compressed air and munitions. Emmet presumed there were snacks hidden in there somewhere. He had a few strips of dried meat and some hard cheese but little else. He'd be of little use to these men dead, and he assumed the problem would solve itself.

"Dragon!" Emmet said loudly, his voice echoing through the cavern. By the time Emmet experienced the thought, he knew what Al'Drakon would say.

"Be quiet," the warrior whispered in a growl.

After being strapped in, Emmet didn't have to wait long. The dragon took three steps before launching into the darkness. Fires dotted the landscape below, showing just how close the enemy had come. The large dragon turned away from the lights and soared through darkness like a shadow on the wind.

"What's his name?" Emmet asked while chewing on goodies he'd found in his saddlebags.