Dragon Flight (12 page)

“Hanging from the roof?!” Luka’s face was grey.

“I found them clinging to the roof of a turret,” the dragon put in.

“Thank you very much for saving them … mistress,” Luka said, bowing to her.

“My name,” she said with dignity, “is Anranria.” She bowed her head, but at Tobin. “And I owe you my life, for taking that collar off my neck.”

He nodded, and then signed that we should go inside the cave to avoid being seen. Anranria seemed hesitant at first, still wary of humans, but I assured her that we had other dragons to vouch for us.

“Well, just Feniul right now,” Luka corrected me as we went inside. He was holding my hand uncomfortably tightly.

I stopped in my tracks, remembering what he’d said earlier. “Niva went to the palace? But won’t they realise again that she’s a female?”

“She said she would hold her tail and forelegs a certain way,” Luka said vaguely. “Feniul and Amacarin seemed to agree that it would work.”

“It will work. Niva is quite masculine, really,” Feniul said as we entered the cool dimness of the cave. Then he saw who Luka was talking to. “Creel! Marta! Thank the First Fires!” He extended his forelegs to us, and Marta and I hastened to pat his nose and reassure him.

Then Feniul saw Anranria behind us, and straightened his entire spine, all the way to his tailtip. “How do
you do, madam.” This genteel greeting was somewhat ruined by Ruli, who was swinging from one of his horns and chattering at Marta in an accusatory way.

“Oh, a monkey! How precious,” Anranria said. “I adore small mammals, don’t you?” She extended a foreclaw to Ruli, who skittered on to her foreleg and then ran up to her shoulder.

“I am more partial to dogs,” Feniul said. “Although I do find the monkey … amusing.”

I snorted. Just yesterday morning Feniul had threatened to eat Ruli.

“Oh, dogs! I had a pair of sheepherding dogs before I was collared. They helped with my flock immensely.”

“Ah, sheepherders! A fine breed,” Feniul said with real enthusiasm. “And you kept your own flock of sheep? How industrious of you, madam.”

“My name is Anranria Flamewing,” she told him. “But you may call me Ria.”

He puffed out his chest. “And I am Feniul the Green-Clawed.”

“This is so darling,” Marta whispered to me. “I think Feniul is smitten!”

“You know,” Luka whispered on my other side. “I never noticed before, but he really is green all over. Down to the tips of his claws. All the other dragons I’ve seen have had different coloured claws or horns or something.”

“That’s great,” I said in a normal voice, startling
everyone. “But we have a little problem called Krashath and the Citatian army to worry about right now.” Immediately, my harsh announcement raised a flood of guilt that reddened my cheeks. I was so relieved to be alive, to be back with Luka (and the rest of my friends), that I could barely stay on my feet. But at the same time, the feeling of Krashath’s claws around my waist was haunting me. He had to be stopped.

Ria and Feniul shuffled their feet and looked as embarrassed as two large dragons can look. Tobin and Luka just looked grim.

“Well,” Luka said. “We weren’t sure what to do about the two of you, but we did decide what to do about the army.”

“And that is?”

“Leave,” Luka said. “I’m not happy about it, but there’s nothing that so few of us can do against an entire army of dragons. Niva, Feniul and Amacarin have agreed to help us fight, but we’re going back to Roulain to make our stand.”

“Roulain?” I raised my eyebrows. It had been only a year since they had tried to conquer us, so I wasn’t all that concerned with their well-being. But Roulain, rife with busy ports, did lie between Citatie and land-locked Feravel. I supposed that the common folk didn’t deserve to be trampled by an army of dragons simply because their previous king had wanted Feravel’s rich wool and fur trade for himself.

“The shore will make an excellent fighting ground,” Feniul said. “The Citatians won’t have a place to land. We can flame at them as they try to pass overhead, and if they bring any ground troops in ships, the Roulaini army can help fight them.”

“Do you think the Roulaini will?”

“Niva spoke to her mate in the pool this morning,” Luka assured me. “Roulain doesn’t want an army of dragons stampeding over them on their way to Feravel. Their army is mobilised, and I’ve given instructions for them to meet us at the beach in three days’ time.” He smiled thinly. “The new king is apparently a tad offended that his country is only an obstacle to conquering Feravel.”

“I wish Krashath wanted Roulain instead,” I said. “How will your father get word to them?”

“A dragon from Roulain named Teonnil has come forward,” Luka said. “He has arranged for a speaking pool in the palace gardens, and transmits messages from Leontes and King Caxel to King Rolian.”

“How amazing,” I said, marvelling that so many dragons had come forward to help. Not even two weeks ago I had been begging Niva and Feniul to accompany me to Citatie to help spy. Now they were planning a full-on attack, with the aid of dragons from Roulain and even Citatie, for Ria was offering her support and that of her uncollared friends.

“I’ve freed a few of my companions from the hatching
grounds,” Ria told us. “They’re in hiding right now, most of them. We don’t dare travel too far until the army has left Pelletie, lest we be spotted by a patrol. I am sure that I can persuade them to help fight Krashath, though.”

“How did you know Krashath was behind this?” This had been bothering me since I heard her swearing at Krashath all the way from the palace to the cave. “The royal court doesn’t even know that their king is under his control.”

Her head drooped. “Some of us were born in captivity,” she said. “But I and many others remember when Krashath came. I am from the country of Luriel, far to the east of here. Krashath came to our land some ten years ago. He tried to persuade us to follow him: to overthrow our rightful king and any who supported him. He claimed to have been our late Queen Velika’s true mate.” She shook her head. “We refused and he fled. But months later, a few at a time, the dragons of Luriel began to disappear. Krashath ambushed us in our sleep, one at a time at first, and then more and more as he gathered slaves. How well I remember seeing torchlight gleaming on Krashath’s scales as I was netted and collared like a wild animal, trapped by friends and neighbours I had known since I was a hatchling.

“We went to other countries, trapping other dragons and being forced to mate and bear eggs in horrible conditions so that his army might grow. When there were too many of us to hide, he came here to Citatie, and
made his deal with the vizier. Then our control was transferred to the Citatian soldiers, under his orders. They hid us in the desert until a few weeks ago. It was a nightmare made real.”

There was a long silence, and then Luka cleared his throat.

“How many of your uncollared companions do you think will join us?” His face was sombre. “A dozen? More?”

“I have uncollared nine,” Ria said. “Although two of them have hatchlings that they wish to protect, and one left a clutch of eggs behind. She is mostly concerned with getting her eggs to safety.”

“Oh.” Luka’s disappointment was palpable.

“Still,” I said brightly, “there’re six more dragons, seven with Ria, who will help us. That’s much better than the three that we had before.”

“True,” he agreed. “We’ll need to leave tonight, as soon as the sun sets, so that we have enough time to cross the strait and make our stand on the Roulain coast.”

“All right,” I said. I sank back on to a bed, exhausted. “Can I sleep for a little while, then?”

“Me, too,” Marta sighed. She was already sitting down, Tobin’s arm around her waist, and her head resting on his broad shoulder. “I did spend the afternoon hanging from a roof.” She patted Ria’s foreleg. “Thank you for rescuing us.”

“Yes,” I said, also patting her leg. “Thank you.”

A strange look came into Ria’s eyes, and she sniffed at me, sucking my loose tunic away from my body. “You smell very strongly of a certain dragon …” Her head drew back, and her eyes widened. “One I have not seen in many years.” She sniffed me again before turning to Feniul. “She smells of the Gold,” she said, her voice confused.

“Yes, she and my cousin are very close,” Feniul said with pride. He made it sound as though he had introduced us.

“But we were told that the Gold had died, over a year past!” Ria’s nostrils dilated. “So Krashath continues his plot against his brother. I did not believe him when he said Shardas lived. He said he felt it in his bones.”

“Shardas
is
alive,” Feniul assured her, “and on his way to fight Krashath.” His dignified tone turned to worry. “Although he was badly hurt, and we are not sure that he is well enough yet to travel and to fight.”

“The Golden King, alive!” Ria didn’t seem to hear the part about his injuries. “And coming to defeat his brother at last! This is a great day! We must tell those I have hidden at once. Surely all nine of them will join us now. If only our queen were alive, to give us strength as well!”

“Oh, Velika’s still alive, but she can’t travel yet,” Marta said. She was slumped across Tobin’s lap and her eyes were shut. “Can I sleep now?”

She slept right through the torrent of questions that followed this pronouncement. And through our efforts to enlighten Ria about the situation with her queen and king. And through Luka sending one of his men with Ria and Feniul to gather up the other uncollared dragons and arrange a rendezvous point for that evening. She slept through Tobin kissing her cheek and arranging her more comfortably on her bed, and Luka trying to do the same for me, which made me blush and stammer and pull a blanket over my head to “shut out the light”.

Then I slept as well, for the rest of the day, my mind and body far too tired to deal with any more excitement.

Nine dragons came from a cave to the south of the city. Nine dragons, gleaming in the moonlight, with bright eyes and silken wings. It was a wrench for three of them to leave their hatchlings and eggs, but they were excited at the idea of seeing their king, of fighting Krashath, and of being free once and for all.

Added to that nine were Ria, Feniul, Niva and Amacarin, giving us a total of thirteen dragons with whom to fight. Once I would have cheered to have so many at my side. Once I would have laughed in awe and amazement. But that was before I had seen hundreds of dragons flying in formation above Nason’s palace.

Across the Strait of Mellelie lay Roulain, and beyond that Feravel, but in the moonlight we could have been standing at the edge of the world. I leaned against Feniul’s haunch to take off my slippers and empty some of the sand out of them. Hating the feeling of gritty feet crammed into shoes, I left them off, stuffing them into the top of one of the travel baskets that adorned Feniul.

“Niva and Amacarin are agreed: this wind is too
strong,” Luka said, coming over to me. He leaned against Feniul, his arm just barely touching mine. “Dawn will be the best time to cross; the air will be clearer and they will be able to see a good place to land and make our stand.”

He actually sounded eager, as though he thought we had a chance. On the flight from the cave to the shore, I had realised that all we were doing was looking for a good place to die. There was no way that we could defeat the army of Citatie with the meagre forces at our command. Even if the Roulaini and Feravelan dragons joined us, how many could there be? During the Dragon War, I had seen perhaps twenty-five dragons all told, and several of them had not survived.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Luka said.

He couldn’t see my face in the dark.

“This isn’t going to work,” I said. “They’re going to slaughter us.”

Putting an arm around my shoulders, Luka held me tightly. “It will be all right, Creel, you’ll see. Shardas will meet us here; it will inspire the dragons. It might even force a few of the collared ones to resist the alchemy.”

Wrinkling my forehead, I thought about this. Ria and Niva had told us that it was possible to resist, though it took all one’s strength. But it would likely be little things, like refusing to flame someone, or changing direction just slightly to carry them away from the fight. Still, it might be enough.

But then I confided to Luka my deepest fear.

“What if Shardas doesn’t come?” I clenched my fists just thinking of it. Because if he didn’t, it meant that he was still too injured to fly. Or had done himself irreparable damage in the attempt. I said this to Luka as well.

Whipping his neck around so that his head loomed over us, Feniul breathed sulphur at us in shock. “How can you doubt Shardas?”

In the darkness I felt myself blushing. “Well, you’ve seen his wings …”

“Shardas the Gold is our king because he is the strongest and wisest of us. He would not make a promise that he could not keep. He would not sit idly by while we suffered, fighting for our freedom.”

“I understand that, Feniul. But he was angry and upset, and he may have misjudged how badly he was still hurt.”

“Shardas wouldn’t do that,” Feniul said with simple conviction. “He’ll be here in time, you’ll see.”

Wishing that I was as certain, I helped to unburden the dragons and we laid out bedrolls for the night. Lying in a hollow beside Marta, I slept like the dead until the first gold and pink light of dawn woke us.

As I stumbled about the beach, feeling muzzy and out of sorts, I squinted towards the far Roulaini shore. It was said that on a clear day you could see Roulain from Citatie, and vice versa. I supposed that the white line at the horizon was the Roulaini shore, with a fuzzy, dark
smudge beyond it that was probably trees. And the glinting gold thing was probably …

“Shardas!”

The golden speck I had spied on the horizon was indeed a dragon, coming towards us in strange bursts of speed. We all gathered at the edge of the water to watch. I felt a range of emotions: joy, relief, anticipation. And then they were all pushed aside by a growing sense of concern. Something was wrong. He was listing from side to side with each flap of his wings and sinking towards the waves of the strait.