The Dragoneer Trilogy

by Vickie Knestaut

  “That’s enough!” Paege shouted as he approached Muzad.

  Muzad whirled around, fists up in front of him as if expecting to be greeted in kind.

  “Enough? I should dare think so! Look at all the blood and scale shed in this battle. There’s nothing left of my horde! I’d give every last one of those men and their dragons including my own to save this kingdom, but I can’t believe that a horde of cowards such as yourself would allow so many good men and dragons to fall to their deaths while you sit up in the sky and sip some tea!”

  “It was Trysten who broke their horde in the first place. She’s the one who found the beta,” Paege shot back.

  Muzad drew his back up straight and tall. His eyes widened as he got up in Paege’s face. “What good is it to have an enchantress as a dragoneer if you don't have the will or guile to fight, to put your life and dragon on the line?”

  “Muzad!” Trysten snapped. “We don't have time for this. We have to get these people back to the village.”

  Muzad whirled back on Trysten. “Because of your failure we have to do that. Don’t tell me what I have to do. If it had been up to me, we’d have that blasted dragoneer and his alpha. We’d have the riders trussed up, and no one would know a thing about this.” Muzad waved a hand at the creek. “We have you to thank for this mess, so don’t tell me what we need to do.”

  The remaining royal hordesmen formed a half-circle around Paege, Muzad, and Trysten. The Aeronian hordesmen then filtered in as well, forming a solid wall behind the royal hordesmen. Their faces were set, hard, and red. Kaylar, with her arms folded before her chest, looked ready to step into the ring and take out Muzad herself.

  “Look, there’ll be time to hash out the blame later,” Trysten began. “But right now—”

  “To what end?” Muzad asked. “Why bother? We’re going to take these men back to their village just to await their own slaughter. If we have to rely on you and your horde to save the village, then the village and everyone in it is as good as dead.”

  “I think that’s a bit out of line,” Kaylar said as she shoved her way through the ranks of royal hordesmen.

  Muzad whirled back upon her. He snorted, then turned to Paege. “No wonder you can’t defeat a single horde if you let your women do all of your fighting for you.”

  Paege’s face turned beet red. He gave a sideways glance to Trysten, who slowly shook her head.

  “I’ll show you a fight,” Kaylar said as she approached Muzad.

  “Kaylar,” Trysten warned.

  Muzad laughed, then turned back to Trysten. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dare lay a hand on a lady, even if she pretends to be a man.” He looked to Paege and leered.

  Paege sucked in a deep breath. His fists nearly trembled with rage.

  “Cowards,” Muzad said, then spat at Trysten’s feet.

  Paege launched himself at Muzad, swinging his right fist at the older man.

  Muzad flipped his left arm up and out to block the punch, swatting it away like a fly while his right fist came up for a blow. His shoulder had not completely healed, however, and the blow glanced off Paege's ear. Paege staggered back a step then shuffled to his side to keep Muzad between himself and the royal hordesmen.

  Muzad lunged forward and jabbed with his left fist. Paege, stiff from half a day of riding, was slow to get out of the way. He took the blow in his right eye. His head snapped back. He staggered a step, tripped and fell onto his backside.

  Muzad threw his head back to howl in laughter, just as Kaylar surged forward and snapped the toe of her boot into the back of his knee. He went down hard and let out a muffled cry.

  As Kaylar reached for a handful of Muzad’s dark hair, the royal hordesmen rushed forward. The Aeronian hordesmen followed. They grasped for shoulders, arms, whatever they could grab and allow them to tear the royal hordesmen apart.

  “Stop!” Trysten shouted.

  Muzad drove an elbow into Kaylar’s stomach. She staggered backward but failed to let go of his hair. Muzad's head twisted around. His back wrenched to follow his head. Kaylar released his hair and let him fall to the ground as she turned on the first of the royal hordesmen to reach her.

  “Stop!” Trysten screamed. All of the dragons roared, snapping their wings and rearing back on their haunches. Their claws raked the air before them and puffs of flame shimmered the sky.

  All of the dragons.

  Including Muzad’s.

  Everyone froze, then looked back to the dragons. The dragons dropped back onto all fours, and then shuffled forward in their awkward way. Elevera, staring straight at Trysten, stopped at the edge of the crowd. The rest of her horde formed a semi-circle around the group. Behind her, Avice and the remainder of her horde approached as well.

  “By the dragon’s scale,” Leeden said in a low, awed voice.

  Muzad pushed himself up from the ground. Blood leaked from the corners of his mouth and got lost in the curls of his beard. He glanced at Trysten, his brow low and dark.

  “What have you done to my dragon, enchantress?” Muzad said, his words thick and misshapen, nearly slurred. Apparently, he’d bitten his tongue when Kaylar dropped him to the ground.

  Trysten looked from Muzad to Elevera, then off to Avice, who continued to shuffle along, leading her horde through the heather and stones, her head swaying slightly with each awkward step.

  She looked back to Muzad. Rage filled her. She took a deep breath. “I have done nothing to your dragons. Nothing but try to save them.”

  Muzad spat to the ground. Blood marred the stones. His men turned to him, and their faces were blank, awaiting his orders. Then in turns, they turned to Trysten, doing their best to mask looks of awe and fear twisted together.

  “Save them? Save them. You let them die for nothing, and that is how you save them?” Muzad asked.

  “You should listen to her, Muzad,” Paege said.

  He turned his head slowly to Paege. “It is because of her that we are in this situation in the first place.”

  Muzad looked at Leeden, then back to Trysten. “There hasn’t been an army on the western side of this kingdom in centuries. And now, suddenly, with the appearance of a... with you, now there is an army. It is you that has brought them. It is you that has made some dark deal for your powers, and now you will use them to hand over my kingdom to the West.”

  Paege stepped forward. Trysten held up a hand in warning.

  Muzad shook his head. “I will not allow you to hand my kingdom over so easily.”

  His hand went to the hilt of his sword. Behind him, the Aeronian hordesmen all took several steps forward. The few that flew with daggers pulled them from their sheaths.

  Muzad looked over his shoulder in a slow, exaggerated manner.

  Trysten motioned for the hordesmen to put away their weapons, to hold their positions.

  As if he heard the rustle of her sleeves against the leather of her bodice, Muzad looked back at her. He took his hand from his hilt and wiped the back of it across his mouth before looking at the blood-and-spit smeared on it. He stared a few seconds longer, perhaps looking for something more devastating to say, but then he turned away and walked into the small crowd of hordesmen. The Aeronians begrudgingly parted, and then the royal hordesmen followed. They glared at the Aeronians as they passed.

  Once Muzad stood before Avice, he reached out for her. She lowered her head, touching the tips of his fingers with her jaw. He ran his palm along the underside of her jaw as he strolled past. She curled her neck to maintain the contact.

  Genuine affection flowed between the two of them. It rolled over Trysten like the small waves that rolled over the pebbles at the river’s edge in the summertime.

  Finally, Muzad broke the contact to pull himself up into the saddle. Once he did, he spat over the edge and waited for his men to mount their dragons as well. When the last man plopped into his seat, Muzad gave the order to fly. They launched into the sky, and in a flurry of wings, circled around those on the ground once
before heading back to Aerona.

  “Are you all right?” Trysten asked Kaylar.

  “Yes,” Kaylar said, brushing herself off.

  "Paege?" Trysten asked, turning to Paege. He nodded once while watching the Royal horde disappear over the horizon, then took a deep breath before looking back to Trysten.

  “You,” Trysten said as she turned back to Kaylar. “When I tell you to stay put, you stay put. Understand?”

  Pinkness flushed over Kaylar. She looked to the ground. “I’m sorry. He was...” Her hand fluttered in Paege’s direction.

  “And you,” Trysten said as she turned to Paege. “What were you thinking? Don’t ever start a fight with anyone. Ever. For any reason.”

  Paege shook his head. “You can have my loyalty, or you can have my obedience. Not both.”

  He walked away, passing through the parting men as he approached Sone.

  Trysten turned to Leeden, who immediately threw palms up and held them before his shoulders. “Don’t yell at me! I did everything you told me to do.”

  She wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not. “Gather your men and their tools. We’re leaving.”

  Leeden nodded, then turned to the men who had gathered a short distance off to watch the altercation. He clapped his hands together once. “All right, men! You heard her. Gather your gear. We’re leaving, and we’re not coming back.”

  Trysten turned her attention to the hordesmen. They stood and watched her, the opportunity to rest apparently forgotten.

  “Well?” Trysten asked. “Are you going to help them gather their tools or not?”

  The hordesmen traded glances, then moved off in the direction of the dam. Paege remained in the semi-circle of their dragons.

  Trysten took a deep breath. She tried hard not to think of Muzad’s men falling to the ground. She pushed aside the memory of the decoy beta falling away from beneath Muzad’s dragons, her rider smoldering.

  Instead, she focused on Paege as he stood before Sone, his back to her. The dragon lowered her head to his palm, then lifted it up and back and swallowed something down.

  He was no longer the boy of her childhood. His feelings ran deep. Of course, she was no more a child either. If Paege were upset or disappointed, then he’d have to let it go until after the army had been dealt with. She couldn’t afford to spend time worrying about it right now.

  She sighed. She couldn't imagine her father feeling bad for hurting the feelings of someone under his command. But it was those old ways that had brought out the behavior seen in Muzad, so they weren't the answer either.

  She looked to the east, to the wispy, high clouds under which Muzad’s dragons had flown. It was all something to think about, to figure out later. After the army.

  If there was an after.

  She shook her head. She couldn't think like that. She turned to the dam and the villagers and hordesmen who gathered up spades, water skins, and baskets still heavy with the food they’d planned to eat for dinner.

  Trysten stepped forward to give them a hand.

  Chapter 18

  A small crowd had gathered in the weyr yard. They cheered as Trysten and the horde approached. When Elevera set down in the yard, Mardoc started toward her, leaning on his staff, and Caron kept pace, slowing her stride to match her husband’s.

  Trysten slid out of the saddle as Tuse approached, holding the pillow of the village sword while glancing at the dragons bearing villagers.

  “What’s going on?” Tuse asked.

  Trysten turned back to Elevera, untethered the scabbard of the village sword, and laid it upon the pillow. The rest of the ceremony would have to wait until after they dealt with the army.

  “Thank you,” Tuse said with a nod after she released the sword. Even he seemed willing to drop the ceremonial tradition for the moment. “Why are all of the villagers back?”

  She arched her eyebrow. "Didn't Muzad tell you?"

  Tuse looked to the tents of the royal encampment, and then back to Trysten. He shook his head. "All he said was that you fared better than his horde, and you'd be coming later, after a stop at Quiet Creek. I tried to get more information, but he told me off and walked away."

  Trysten drew in a tight, agitated breath. “We weren’t able to capture the horde or destroy it. The Western hordesmen saw the work being done at Quiet Creek, and I thought it best to bring these people home. Now that the enemy knows about the dam, they will send out troops or a horde to undo it.”

  Tuse paled. “I see.”

  “The reinforcements will come,” Trysten said. “The dam would have only bought us an extra day. A day we won't need.”

  Tuse swallowed. “I’d rather have that day, whether we need it or not. But I can see why you brought them back.” His eyes flitted over to his brother, Leeden, then back to Trysten. “Thank you.”

  As Tuse walked away, Trysten turned and was crushed in an embrace from her mother.

  “Oh, Little Heart!”

  Trysten almost pushed her mother away, but then welcomed the embrace. She wrapped her arms around Caron and squeezed her. She closed her eyes and immediately saw the decoy beta dragon falling from the sky, bristling with so many arrows that it didn’t appear to be real.

  Her eyes snapped open, and she focused on her father, who stared at her with a deep, stoic expression. She had probably not seen a tenth of what he’d seen in the days spent fighting in his grandfather’s horde, and then as the horde's Dragoneer. How did he live with it? How did he close his eyes at night? She’d seen him nap sitting in his chair, and there, he looked oddly peaceful, serene.

  Caron pulled away and held Trysten out at arm’s length. She studied her daughter up and down. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

  Trysten shook her head. “Not so much as a scratch this time. I got lucky.” Her hand absently went to the bandage beneath her armor where she had taken a blow from an arrow in The Wilds while saving Prince Aymon.

  “You did not capture the horde,” Mardoc said, and it wasn’t clear whether or not he was asking a question or passing judgment.

  “The Dragoneer stayed behind. He remained with the army while his horde went out to fight. They used an imposter beta to fly point. Elevera made a display and goaded the true beta into enough of a response that I found her flying among the ranks as a common dragon with a common hordesman. Once we took her out, the dragons retreated to their alpha.”

  “A wise move,” Mardoc said with a nod of approval.

  Trysten swallowed as she wondered which move he was referring to, hers or the Western horde's. “The alpha and the Dragoneer were protected by the army and the spear launchers. We couldn’t get to them."

  She shuddered, remembering the royal dragons falling, then continued, "They knew. They knew about my abilities.”

  Mardoc nodded again. “That is to be expected. And now we know without a doubt where the rest of the escaped prisoners went.”

  Trysten blinked. She hadn't thought of that. She had assumed that the Original was behind the attack and that he had told the Western horde of her ability to capture dragons. But the escaped prisoners knew and would have warned the others. For a brief second, she wondered if she had imagined the whole ordeal with the Original.

  Her hand went to the pocket of her tunic, but it was sealed under the leather of her armor. She began to pull at the leather cord of her bodice.

  “Trysten?” Caron asked.

  “I want to show you something.” She pulled the cord away enough to snake her hand underneath. An ache drifted up out of the cloud of pain she felt, but this ache was different. It was hers, and it came from the wound in her abdomen as she dug in the tunic's pocket. Her hand lingered by the healing wound for a moment. As odd as it might be to explain, the pain was a bit of relief for her. The closeness of it dwarfed the pain from the surrounding dragons.

  Her fingers clasped the scale. She pulled it out and opened her palm. Caron and Mardoc each leaned forward to stare into her hand.

  “What do y
ou see?” Trysten asked.

  “It’s a dragon scale,” Mardoc said. He looked up at Trysten. “We don’t have one that color. Did you take it from the enemy?”

  Caron looked at Trysten with wide eyes. “They had dragons that color?”

  Trysten shifted her palm closer to her mother. “What color is it?”

  “Black. But it’s...” Caron looked back at the scale. “I’ve never seen a color quite like that. It’s so... dark.”

  “What?” Mardoc asked. He looked between Caron and Trysten with a confused expression upon his face, like he'd fallen for a joke.

  “It’s blue to you, isn’t it?” Trysten asked him.

  “Well, I would have said gray, but there is certainly some blue in it. Like a storm cloud, but not quite.”

  Caron shook her head at her husband. “That is blacker than the night itself. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s...”

  She poked it with her finger, then shook her head again. “I half expected my finger to pass right through it like Trysten was somehow holding a hole.”

  Trysten nodded. “That’s how I see it.”

  Mardoc blinked, then squinted at the scale. He shook his head. “It’s gray. Gray as stone. As storm clouds. Where did you get this?”

  Trysten took a deep breath.

  “Trysten!” Jurdun yelled from the row of tents. “Prince Aymon wishes to speak to you.”

  Trysten held up a finger to indicate one moment. “An Original appeared in my den. He was just there. I walked in, and he was sitting at my table.”

  Mardoc grasped Trysten’s wrist. The scale flopped in her palm as she jerked in surprise at the steel of her father’s grip.

  “What did he look like?” Mardoc's gaze bounced to the scale and back up as if to ask if the Original had been covered in such scales.

  “Like a man. Sort of,” Trysten replied.

  “What did he want?” Caron asked.

  “What do you mean, sort of?” Mardoc asked.