Jaydra and two other of the younger—or at least the smaller—dragons flew back to Den Mountain, gliding low over the forest. Plumes of black smoke lifted from two of the anchored vessels, followed by the heavy, echoing booms of cannon.
I waved a hand at the ships. “Those cannons have shot that’s powerful enough to punch a hole through a dragon’s wing or break a skull. That’s their advantage. Ours is that the cannon’s range can’t hit Den Mountain. Look you can see where the shot crashes into the forest. It’s demolishing ancient trees and cracking boulders. But to get to Den Mountain, the ships will have to land troops on the island.”
I do not want to send the young ones against those black guns, Zenema thought at me.
I shook my head. “That is wise. But they may try to keep you pinned within the mountain. If that happens, that could lead to trouble.
Villagers. They must eat and drink and will become restless. Dragons would just burrow deep and sleep.
Zenema lashed her tail and I edged away so the spikes on the end wouldn’t hit me. How nice it must be to be a dragon who could sleep until troubles went away. Or who had the power to fight, or even to fly away.
I rubbed at my chin. My beard had not yet come in—I wasn’t old enough to grow one. But sometimes my jaw and cheeks seemed to itch as if hair would sprout any day. “On one hand, here on the mountain is the safest place for everyone, but on the other, we can easily be trapped here by the ships. But I read something once about how if you have allies then you should always choose to hunker down during a siege. You can survive longer than an encamped enemy as you wait for reinforcements. But we’ve got all our allies here. So…if we don’t have allies coming to help us, we must find a way to break the siege.”
Zenema huffed out a warm, smoky breath as if she did not care for my reasoning aloud.
I cursed myself. If I was a True King, why did I not know the answer to this problem?
A wave of anguish knotted my insides as I wondered if perhaps Ysix and the rest had been right about me. I was not ready to be any sort of leader. All I knew about were the dusty and dead lessons from books. What sort of king relied on that alone without any experience to guide him?
I heard a scatter of rock behind me and turned to see Saffron climbing up to the perch. With me, Zenema and Saffron, it seemed crowded. I reached out to give Saffron a hand, but she simply glared at me and climbed up to stand in front of Zenema.
Saffron and Zenema swapped stares as if Saffron was asking if it was acceptable to intrude. Saffron was dressed in her heavier travelling breeches and what seemed a new, green leather jerkin. A heavy backpack hung from one shoulder along with a rope.
Looking away from Zenema, Saffron waved a hand at me and said, “You should get changed if we’re flying north. It will be cold.” She glanced behind her, looking to the black, oily boats now almost lost in the gathering night. For a moment, her expression seemed bleak.
Something in me snapped.
I would have to go—I must. But I could not leave the dragons and these villagers in trouble. I might not be a great general or the perfect king, but I could not let Saffron and the others down.
Looking up at Zenema’s white bulk, I told her, “You need to stop those cannons. Without cannon, those ships have no power, no control over the island.”
One hit will kill any dragon.
“They have a weakness. I saw it a few years ago when Enric had had a great celebration to unveil the creation he had used against some of the southern tribes. The cannons use black powder to fire a heavy iron ball that can smash whatever is in their path. But the alchemical primers I read that talked of this magic spoke of how the powders are unstable. One man must mix the powder just right, another two have to load the cannon, another one arms the mechanism and lights the fuse. They have to aim the cannon and all of that takes time to fire them. That is their weakness—the long delay.”
Zenema huffed out another smoky breath and I thought I saw the hint of a scowl pulling down her wide dragon mouth.
Remembering one of the main lessons of battle that I’d ever read, I told her, “Pit your strongest points against their weakest—that is the way to win.”
Zenema’s thoughts swirled in my mind. We can fly. We breathe fire. We are strong.
“And you are together—you outnumber the enemy!” Glancing down at the black water where I could only make out the ships as small fires they had lit, I told Zenema, “Look at the way they huddle so close. They are far from home, far from the mainland, far from their allies. And they think dragons can only fly.”
But I knew better—I had seen dragons fish. I knew how Jaydra loved swimming in the river.
Just like one of the many puzzles that I had once solved in my study in Torvald so very long ago, I suddenly saw the way that the battle had to go if we were to win. I started to explain everything to Zenema and Saffron.
At dawn, the dragons were ready. So was I—I hoped. Zenema had spoken to Ysix and the other dragons and since they thought it was her plan, they were willing to follow her. While the sky was still dark, the dragons left Den Mountain, flying high up into the morning clouds.
I stood on the peak where Zenema had sat last night, Saffron at my side. “This had better work,” Saffron muttered.
I said nothing—I could say nothing. I was too nervous to talk. Too nervous to do anything but stand with my hands clenched and hoped this would succeed.
At Zenema’s commanding roar, the cloud of dragons whirling in the gray, early light above us parted. Four of the biggest, most mature dragons broke away from the others. One of them was huge, lumbering Oloxia. The four swooped around Den Mountain and skimmed low over the trees, racing to the other side of the island. There they plunged into the water, sinking out of sight.
I watched the waves, wondering how long it would take them to swim around to the bay, wondering if the plan would work.
It is a good plan, Bower of Torvald, Zenema thought to me. Almost good enough to be worthy of a king.
Above us, the other dragons began to roar and shoot fire into the sky. Even from this distance, I could hear the clang of warning bells from the ships. “Look up…keep looking up,” I muttered.
Dawn streaked the sky and now I could see the ships—three ships anchored in the bay.
The soldiers on the ships readied their cannons and fired, but the dragons in the sky dove and darted away, unharmed.
That’s when it happened.
Great spouts of water rose up under the boats. The ships all rocked—and dragons roared up from the water, grabbing the ships’ hulls with sharp claws. The soldiers on the ships had no time to reload their cannons. The ships rocked wildly, and one dragon—Oloxia—dug a huge hole in the ship’s hull. The ship next to it flipped upside down and now dragons descended from the sky onto it. The third ship tried to fire up its engines and turn to run, but two dragons surged up from the water, crashing down onto the ship with all their weight, sinking it in an instant. The water foamed and dragons tore from the sea, heading back into the sky to swirl over the broken ships. It was too far for me to see if any of the soldiers had survived, but I could see dragons plucking small shapes from the water, and I turned away.
Above me, the dragons wheeled once around Den Mountain and then broke apart, some flying low over the sea and others swirling over the sinking ships. Every now and again a scream or a wail drifted to me on the wind, and I cringed.
But I had to remember the horrible things Enric had planned—how he had tried to destroy his own capital city, how he had sought my death, how he had tried to steal Saffron’s magic, and how even now he hunted us.
My resolve hardened—Enric had to be stopped.
Even if a few soldiers escaped, they would be stranded on the island—and either villagers or the dragons would take care of them.
“It will buy us time,” I told Saffron. “Time to find another island. Time to evacuate the villagers.”
Saffron glanced at me. “But we
still lose Den Mountain. The villagers still lose their village. How is that just?”
I shook my head. It wasn’t. But we were now at war with the king.
We didn’t wait for the celebration. I went and told the villagers what had happened, how the king’s ships were no more, how they must find a new home, another island. A few grumbled, but some of the younger villagers were starting to get bold about getting closer to the younger dragons—maybe this alliance would last. I hoped so.
I packed up the few things I had—the few books I had salvaged I would leave with Zenema. She would have to care for them.
When I took them to her and gave them into her care, Zenema looked at me for a long moment, her eyes swirling and bright, before she nodded. Once we have a new den, the dragons I can spare will follow you. Go now with my blessing and wishes for a swift flight and steady wind.
I left her and headed back to where Saffron was waiting, her own gear still packed. She gave me another long look, and I asked her, “What?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head and pointed to two leather pouches. “Food and water. We have to get them on Jaydra. Then all we have to do is get you to learn how to fly, fight, shoot and generally not look so sheepish all of the time.”
I mumbled something back to her that was more of a complaint about her.
We tied the pouches to Jaydra. And Saffron barked, “Quit moving, Jaydra!”
I glanced at Saffron and saw her cinching a strap around Jaydra.
Jaydra fidgeted, craning her head to look back at what Saffron was doing to her.
Somehow, Saffron had managed to create two makeshift saddles out of old blankets and bits of leather and ropes. The straps to hold them on Jaydra seemed huge, and Jaydra squirmed as Saffron pulled them tight. The saddles sat between Jaydra’s spines, and from them hung our pouches of food and the maps we had found in the Hermit’s tower.
We were about to become dragon riders it seemed.
Saffron climbed into her saddle, tested it and lashed an old belt around her. She gave me a hand and I climbed into my saddle. She had fashioned a belt for me was well.
“We have a long way to go and we’re going to be sleeping on the go,” she said.
“And you don’t want me falling out. You know, they once had a dragon rider academy, and saddle makers as well as harnesses for dragons. Every dragon had a custom harness that wouldn’t chaff or itch.”
Just then Jaydra shook and I had to cling to a dragon spine not to get tossed off.
Saffron glanced back at me. “Now you have Jaydra wanting just that. She doesn’t think much of my skill with rope.” Jaydra tensed and gave a high-pitched call. I felt a thrum of connection between her and Saffron. Saffron leaned down to hug Jaydra’s neck and then she straightened.
“Ready?” Saffron asked.
“No,” I said.
“Me neither.”
Jaydra threw herself into the air. Wind stung my eyes and face and pulled on my hair, and I vowed I was going to create a helmet to wear. Even though Saffron was always telling me not to look down, I did. And then I could not tear my eyes away from the wreckage of the king’s ships.
A black slick coated the bay, and the golden sands now seemed stained and strewn with bits of flat metal and chunks of wood. Thankfully, I could see no bodies in the water—but I knew that meant either the fish had eaten them or something else had. I didn’t want to think about that, so I looked up again.
The island receded at an alarming rate, becoming the sort of image that I might see on one of the best maps. Jaydra beat her wings in a steady rhythm, taking us into the clouds and then above them. The sun beat down on my head and back. I held onto my harness and Jaydra’s spines, my heart thudding, and my motions mixed.
We were on our way to perhaps find an army—or allies who would help us. But I wanted to look back at the island. I wanted to know the villagers would be safe with the dragons and the dragons safe with the villagers as new friends. I wanted them to find a new sanctuary, and yet I knew I could not stay to help them with that task.
Seeing the same tension in Saffron’s shoulders as she sat hunched and tight, helped a little. She was leaving far more than I was.
The mainland loomed ahead of us, a darkened haze on the horizon, as we flew toward our future or our doom.
7
Saffron’s Lesson
The air was changing, growing colder. I could feel it in my bones, in just the same way as I could smell it and taste the change. And I could hear Bower’s teeth clattering. Were it not for the dragon-in-my-mind—the place that was part me and part Jaydra—I wonder if I still would have been able to detect all of this. The air to me seemed to lack the soft smell of ocean. It held a hint of pine and something bitter.
Northern snows, Jaydra informed me, and her thoughts seemed unhappy. It was one of the few things she had shared with me over the long hours we’d been flying. I sent her my agreement, not knowing whether there was anything I could even say to make her happy about snow and cold winds. Like me, she had grown up with the warm trade winds of the Western Isles. And, like me, she had just left her family again to come with me. But this time we weren’t leaving Zenema and the other dragons safe in Den Mountain. Would Jaydra forgive me for taking her away from her family right when they were in need?
Jaydra’s thoughts butted into my mind. Saffron is Jaydra’s family. We are one. We are not the same, but we come from the same spark. She did not sound like the playful Jaydra I had always known. She sounded older and wiser. I wondered if dragons matured not in years but from events such as this one, suddenly turning a corner and becoming cleverer by leaps and bounds.
Just like Bower has.
When we had first met Bower, he seemed a gawky youth, unable to survive in the wilderness. It was not that long ago that we’d first met, but events had changed him. His plan to deal with the king’s ships had been a good one, hitting them from below when they were looking up at the skies and expecting dragons to fall on them.
For a moment, when he had been telling Zenema his plan, I had seen the worry rise up in his eyes—that old uncertainty that I’d seen before in him. But then something changed. He had pushed back his shoulders and had seemed to accept the role being pushed onto him.
Now, however, I heard him cough. I turned to see his face now white and his hands just as pale as he clung to one of Jaydra’s spines.
“Losing sensation?” I shouted. The wind took my words to him. He pressed his lips tight and just nodded, as if he was too cold to even manage words. “Cold from the north,” I pointed to where we were heading, and then rubbed my hands over my arms and legs. “Keep moving. Get blood in them!”
Bower nodded and tried to wiggle his legs, but ended up shifting his weight. Underneath us, Jaydra shifted as well, trying to adjust to Bower’s movements.
Where does he want me to go? She hissed, sounding more than a little annoyed with Bower.
Just keep heading toward the mountains and the snow. Ignore us for a while.
I sent her my feeling of sympathy for everything she was going through, hoping she would be patient with us. We were all tired, and worried for those left behind. But right now I had to make sure Bower knew how to deal with a long flight. I also had to teach him not to send more wrong signals to Jaydra.
Unclipping my belt, I stretched and then swung my legs up and around, so I now sat facing backwards, facing Bower. The cold breeze plucked at my hair and clothes. Bower’s eyes widened, but I held up a hand to let him know I knew what I was doing. I had been riding Jaydra’s back far longer than Bower had, and I was used to the way Jaydra few. I could anticipate her movements, and since her senses were connected to me just now, she also knew that I needed her to fly steady and straight.
And Bower had to learn this lesson as well as others.
Pulling my legs up, I crouched on the blankets I had set between Jaydra’s spine ridges. I waited for the tingling in my legs to stop and then I shouted, “I’m coming o
ver to you!”
Bower frowned. “Are you certain that is wise?”
Ignoring his question, I eased over Jaydra’s spine, spreading my feet as wide as I could and keeping one hand on the spiky ridges on her back. Once I was in front of Bower, I waved for him to unfasten his own belt. “I found out the first time I flew to the mainland that you have to get up and move or land and stretch your legs every few hours. Your muscles will seize up otherwise.”
“Can’t we land?” Bower shouted, hunched over and hugging his arms around his body.
“If we had island-hopped, as we did when we escaped Torvald, we might have found land every few hours or an atoll. But it’s not wise for us to cross the skies over the Middle Kingdom, so Jaydra is taking us north over the sea and then we’ll head to the mountains in the north to try and find this Three-Rivers clan. It will be a day or two that we’ll not find islands out here.”
“Can Jaydra fly that far?”
“Good question—it is one you need to know. You also need to deal with things that go wrong. It’s a key lesson in flying, one that every dragon learns early. Sometimes you don’t know if you can escape that storm or if you are fast enough to avoid the obstacles. You have to find out your limits by pushing up to them. You have to know what you can survive.”
Bower undid his belt and I could see him working hard not to look down. This was one of the hardest lessons I had to teach him—he had to learn to trust that Jaydra would never allow him to fall.
I waved for him to stand. “Don’t worry. A dragon can sleep on the wing, by putting half her mind to rest and just gliding. Dragons can lock their wings. Jaydra will probably snooze once we’ve stretched. Now, up you get.”
Bower took a deep breath, grabbed my arm and one of Jaydra’s spines and struggled up into a crouch.
“You have to do this every few hours. You have to stand and walk around while in flight.” I stood straighter to show him it could be done. It was colder standing, for I no longer had Jaydra’s spines blocking some of the wind. I staggered a step to find a better balance.
Dragons of Kings (Upon Dragon's Breath Trilogy Book 2) Page 7
