Knight Awoken

by Tammy Salyer

  You think one less talon will hinder me, do you?

  No… of course not. I just think I could be less burdensome to you if I were not… down here.

  True, you are a burden. Very well.

  The next moment, the hind leg did the unthinkable and released Mylla with a backward kick that arced her upward behind Noble Inferno and past her tail. Too breathless to scream, Mylla reached the apex of her arc, expecting to fall straight down, then blinked in disbelief as Noble Inferno spread her great wings like a sail and arrested her forward momentum to a near halt. Her back ended up just beneath Mylla, who fell not hundreds of feet to the forest floor, but only twoish.

  Climb up and lash yourself to my horns, speck.

  As her stomach settled uneasily, she did as told, using her belt and her shin-cover bindings to create a harness of sorts around her waist that affixed to both back-sweeping horns just behind Noble Inferno’s forehead, which was marked with the nine-pointed star of Vaka Aster, Mylla now realized.

  As she tightened the last knot, praying to the Great Cosmos that it would hold, Mylla finally had time to see what she’d been missing during the frenzy of not falling. Behind them, the forest canopy spread out for endless miles, a solid blanket of treetops all the way to Yor’s Great Lochanian Forest, Lake Cuffdeach, and beyond to the eastern Almull Sea. And within that vast stretch of horizon, the canopy now erupted with the rising of more, more, and more dragørs. Her breath caught again at the sight, and some emotion she could scarcely recognize swept through her. Wonder, tinged with humility. She was indeed a speck among giants, a very small being in a Cosmos that contained a great many awesome ones.

  And these particular awesome beings were on her side.

  She looked ahead to Magdaster and realized they had reached the melee. The speeding mass of twenty Dyrrak attackers coming straight toward them in an ill-planned kamikaze run, emberflare cannons already firing, was a clear tip-off.

  Noble Inferno grumbled, Brace yourself, and roared.

  True to her namesake, an inferno streamed from the dragør with the force of a sunburst, drowning the first Dyrrak attackers twenty yards ahead. Mylla white-knuckled a horn with one hand and her klinkí stones with the other—as, to her horror, Noble Inferno flew through the fire she’d created toward her next target.

  Mylla nearly screamed, but it would have done no good. The fire would simply melt her into oblivion in, she hoped, no more than a heartbeat, and there was simply nothing she could do to stop it.

  “Warm” didn’t quite describe the sensation she felt of Noble Inferno blasting through the fire and debris. But that was all—she was not dead, and when she dared open her eyes, she found them well past the danger.

  What in Vaka Aster’s eyes?! she cried, not believing what she was seeing.

  What are you whinging about? Noble Inferno grunted.

  Aloud, she said, “I should be dead. No human should have survived what you just flew through.”

  Foolish, foolish. You have been ordained by more than one Verity, speck. No dragørfire can touch you now.

  The dragør’s tone bordered on scornful, but Mylla didn’t care. The elation blasting through her was enough to shield her against any contempt, no matter how great, because by the Verities, she had just survived being roasted by dragørfire! So ecstatic at the sheer wonder of her newfound advantage was she that she’d have fought Balavad hand-to-hand at the moment if the Verity had confronted her. She was more than invincible now—she was fireproof!

  Water and lightning! cried a familiar voice. Knight Evernal, did I just see you sitting on top of a dragør?

  Her surprise at hearing the Himmingazian had to compete with the many other anomalies claiming her attention, but she somehow brought her focus to him.

  … Jaemus Bardgrim?

  Yes! Oh Verities’ smiles, tell me you can help us. We’re getting destroyed up here.

  Don’t worry, Bardgrim. Get your ships out of the way as fast as you can and let the dragør flight handle the Dyrraks.

  After a short consideration, she could understand the talkative ’Gazian’s presence here. He seemed nearly as devoted to the Knights as she, and his courage was a fact none could argue with. The presence of the rest of the Himmingazians was a mystery, but now wasn’t the time to solve it.

  Only destroy the Dyrrak ships, not the foreigners! she called, using the Fenestros in her carryall to amplify her voice and hoping the rest of the horde of dragørs heard her too. They’re allies.

  None bothered to respond, and she could only hope for the best.

  Around her, the skies teemed with dragørs. Their myriad colors and designs, all hues of a Vinnric rainbow, were remarkable, some colors she’d never even seen before. Their unusual nature made her wonder if the constant charm of the Fenestros was enhancing her sight.

  Their beauty could not overshadow their ruthlessness, however. The chaos of battle was so thick that soon the sky was filled with nothing but fire, smoke, and flying shrapnel. Around her, the dragørs attacked like beasts from a Verity’s prophecy of doom. Dragørfire, talons, and tails tore through the Dyrrak ships, ripping them to pieces or burning them to dripping meteors of metal that rained to the earth. Nothing could survive, and even the nimble attackers were not agile enough to escape a chasing dragør bent on decimation. Mylla held on to Noble Inferno’s horn with all her formidable strength, being jigged and jogged and jerked in every direction as the creature navigated the battlefield. The only thing she, a thing of almost utter insignificance inside this maelstrom, could do was grit her teeth and bear witness. This was a Knight’s fight no longer.

  The next moment, she realized how right this was.

  Turn away, Anzuru cousin! Noble Inferno growled, banking hard toward the city and making Mylla’s neck crack from the sudden redirection. You are descendants of Vaka Aster’s First Creations, not an instrument of Battgjald’s maker. I do not wish to fight you.

  Anzuru cousin? she thought. Then she finally realized something her hindbrain already knew. There were two kinds of dragørs in the sky: those of many hues from the Weald, and a swarm that was fully crimson, snout to wing tip to tail tip, their deep red like lava on the wing. And they were attacking the Weald flight.

  A blast struck Noble Inferno nearly center in the belly, and she roared with an expanse of rage that nearly deafened Mylla. Though her ears rang, she had no trouble hearing the dragør’s voice in her head: Tell those Magdastervian specks to cease their fire, or we shall join the crimsons in their task.

  Yes, yes! Knights, do you hear me? she yelled through the aid of the Fenestros. It’s Mylla. I’ve returned from Ærd.

  Novice? Stave responded, filling Mylla with relief to hear a familiar and much-loved voice.

  Yes, she said, instantly echoed by Bardgrim. Yes?

  Nov—the old novice, Mylla, that really you?

  It is. Stave, tell the Magdaster forces not to fire upon the Weald dragørs. I’m riding one as we speak. They’re with us, and we’re here to help. The silence that followed was an expression of undiluted doubt. Stave, did you hear?

  Which dragør are you riding? This was Roibeard.

  She’s the green and orange one. Master Inferno, she said, addressing her companion, can you fly by the tower ahead to show them?

  Are you truly asking me to prove my identity to the mortals? Noble Inferno scoffed.

  You have nothing to prove, Master Inferno. It’s me who must be proven.

  In what could only be described as a truculent veer, the dragør tilted them ninety degrees and buzzed one of the few towers along Magdaster’s great wall that was still standing. As they rushed by, she saw the faces of several soldiers crewing an emberflare cannon below stricken with a disbelief that was made unfortunately comical by an equal measure of terror. But the mission was a success. Noble Inferno careened so close to their group that Mylla could have jumped into it, and she heard them yelling “Dragon rider!” before Noble Inferno flew back into the dragør–Dyrrak fray. />
  Nothing you do can surprise me anymore, Mylla, Roi said in his usual saturnine tone. Can you and your new allies take care of these red dragørs? It seems they’ve been twisted by Balavad, and we have no defense against them.

  We will not, indeed we cannot, kill our own kind, speck, Noble Inferno broke in. That is the province of you lesser species.

  Mylla was about to jump in and try to avert total disaster, but Roi beat her to it.

  Am I speaking with Master Inferno? he sent.

  Noble Inferno let out a roar of flame that demolished at least twenty nearby Dyrrak attackers, but still found time to insult the Knight. A privilege that won’t outlive today, she said.

  Nor should it, Master. We are humbled by your presence, and our gratitude can never be fully expressed. We don’t seek your aid for us but for Vaka Aster.

  Which wouldn’t be necessary if not for you. But… She gave a mollified sigh, or at least Mylla hoped it was mollified. We came for Vaka Aster, as is our duty, one we do not shy from—the jab wasn’t nearly subtle enough for Mylla to pretend she missed it—and shall see to it that our Creator’s realm is protected.

  Four of the smaller crimson dragørs had homed in on Noble Inferno. Upon craning her neck around to look in all directions, Mylla could see them planning their attack, now mere moments away. Noble Inferno? she nudged.

  Ssst-sst-sst, the dragør shushed. I see them, speck. Grab ahold.

  The world’s most unnecessary words, as Mylla’s hands, now numb and bloodless, hadn’t relaxed once since she’d lashed herself to Noble Inferno’s horns. The Anzuru crimsons closed in, spewing flame at Noble Inferno. At the last moment, Mylla saw a black talon raking through the air toward her. She flattened herself to Noble Inferno’s skull, and the talon missed her by a hair. Knowing how vulnerable she was had been one thing, but now she was not just vulnerable, but a target.

  Noble Inferno fought back, lashing her tail through the air whip-strike fast and sending one of the attackers rolling away into a Dyrrak fighter. The fighter was destroyed, the dragør merely rerouted. The remaining three gathered again and shot toward them head on like the tines of a pitchfork. This time, Noble Inferno had some help, but not from another Weald dragør. A Himmingazian ship bigger than Asteryss Keep swooped through the air from above and angled into the oncoming beasts at high speed. They struck it like a bug striking the teeth of a grinning horseback rider at full gallop before they’d had a chance to stoke their flames. Two careened away, stunned and dropping toward the earth and out of sight. The third sank a talon into the ship’s hull and held on. The ship continued into the din of battle too quickly for Mylla to see what happened next.

  What are we going to do, Master Inferno? The crimsons seem as invulnerable as your own mighty selves.

  The dragør contemplated this silently before speaking. Our cousins are tainted with something unknown to us, but the changes it has wrought are quite clear. Perhaps… tell those flying the metal bubbles to lead the crimsons out to sea.

  It was her turn to pause. But I thought dragørs avoided the water.

  Not water, our reflections. The sight of our own great might can be stunning, as you know, speck. If the crimsons are as mindless as they appear, they may not know better than to follow their prey. They’ll be subdued, for a time, maybe long enough to for us to eliminate the Dyrraks.

  Mylla wanted to ask “And then what?” but didn’t. She relayed the directions to Bardgrim instead.

  He sent: So it’s a divide-and-conquer kind of strategy. I think we can do that.

  Watch out for the ships in the water. They’ll have weapons too. At that moment, she realized she’d seen many Glisternaut ships in the fray now, but she’d yet to see them fire their own weapons. Some memory she couldn’t fully dredge up on the spot made her think they didn’t have any.

  Pfft, he scoffed. Their so-called weapons are no more dangerous to the Glisternaut fleet than spit on an electrical fire.

  How are you fighting them?

  It’s an effective new method we recently invented. We’re calling it “smash ’n’ bash.” Let’s just lead these big red beasties where they’ll harm nothing but the jellyfish.

  She didn’t know what he meant, but internally she applauded his panache. As uncertain as she’d been about remaining in the Knights when this all began, she was quite certain of her delight at having this Himmingazian among them, bombast and all.

  And then it came to her. She knew exactly what the “then what” part of the plan to eradicate the crimson dragør threat would be. She just regretted having let Griggory take the Ærd Scrylle, as she should have known she would.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The Glistering Horizon and its remotely operated ships dodged dragørs and bashed into Dyrraks at as much speed and with as much force as their pilots could eke from them. Any innate hesitation to tussle or squeamishness at the violence around them, or that they were inflicting, had died in the Himmingazians along with Drustim and her crew. Their friends had sacrificed their lives, and as the Verities were their witness, the Dyrraks would too.

  This is what it must feel like to be Vinnric, Jaemus thought. This kind of fight-lust must pump through their hearts like blood. Not sure it suits me, but for now—

  He leaned his body and his will against his consoles and sent a swarm of ten Glisternaut ships piling into an equally sized group of Dyrrak fighters. The Dyrraks that weren’t fast enough to avoid his barrage crumpled and dropped. Jaemus felt himself sneer and knew he wouldn’t have recognized his own face in a mirror at that moment.

  A dragør unlike any he’d seen so far passed by his viewscreen, inches from where he stood, and Jaemus nearly tumbled backward in surprise. Had he really just seen what his eyes were telling him he had? Because it looked as if Knight Evernal had just swooped from the sky like a myth, riding astride the head of a humongous dragør.

  That alone was enough to make his breath catch. But then they flew straight into a mass of Dyrrak fighters, and her dragør emitted a scorching storm of dragørfire that lit the fighters up. The dragør and Mylla flew into the inferno, and he was sure he’d just witnessed another of his new friends die. Yet he was mistaken. Evernal and her stunningly large dragør erupted from the other side without even a smudge of ash or singe of hair. It was the most unbelievable of the mounting unbelievables he’d been witness to.

  Water and lightning! he shouted through his Mentalios. Knight Evernal, did I just see you sitting on top of a dragør?

  Jaemus Bardgrim?

  Yes! Oh Verities’ smiles, tell me you can help us. We’re getting destroyed up here.

  Don’t worry, Bardgrim. Get your ships out of the way as fast as you can and let the dragør flight handle the Dyrraks.

  As she spoke, he witnessed a dozen more Weald dragørs, evident by their different colors and larger size, engaged in single combat with the crimsons and the Dyrrak ships. He put what was happening together quickly. There were more dragørs in the world than these red southern variety, and somehow Knight Evernal was leading them. If Jaemus had thought the crimson dragørs were large, what he saw her flying upon made him feel meek and tiny indeed. The creature looked large enough to swallow the Octopod in a gulp. And there were dozens of these massive multihued dragørs. Jaemus was suddenly very grateful he was fighting for the side he was.

  “Cote, back the fleet off and clear the sky for the colorful dragørs. You’re probably not going to believe this, but they’re on our side.”

  Cote shot him an unreadable look. And why would it be? They were part of something so terrible and so divergent from their old lives that there simply wasn’t an expression in the Himmingazian experience to account for what his lifemate and the rest of them were feeling. Despite this, Cote lacked for nothing in adaptability.

  Through the wave-speaker, he spoke immediately to the rest of the fleet: “Joburg, Mye, backup has arrived. The larger dragørs are allies. Draw your squadrons away from the fight and we’ll join you over the c
ity. Our role now is to protect the people of Vinnr trapped there.”

  They sent their acknowledgments, and Cote, Jaemus, and Heleina led their remaining squads toward the city wall, harried every yard of the way by the Dyrraks, though thankfully, the enemy dragørs seemed to have their hands, or claws, full with their Weald cousins.

  The Dyrrak fighters came at them in an endless swarm. Jaemus and his fellow pilots did their best to keep the fighters from getting too far over the city proper. Even though their lightning reclaimers were remaining effective as both shields and battering rams, a falling Dyrrak fighter still created dangerous debris for those below. The dragør fights likewise veered over the walls a few times, but the Glisternauts avoided them. Dragørfire and dragør strikes had already proved the Glisternaut ships were no match and likewise unneeded.

  Yet, as the battle waged on, his confidence developed cracks. The greater Weald dragørs were doing some damage to their slightly smaller crimson cousins, but the unnatural vitality of their Ravener transformation made them nearly unstoppable. And though he’d now watched dragørfire’s power to melt even air to plasma, there was one thing it was less effective against: another dragør.

  Jaemus was sure he wasn’t the first to think of it, but if these creatures were invincible, how were they supposed to defeat them?

  Cote and Jaemus piled through a small clump of Dyrrak ships—how many had their fleet destroyed by now?—and came out of the debris with Mylla and her enormous dragør just below them. They were in a confrontation with a reduced swarm of the crimsons, who were now charging full speed ahead at Noble Inferno.

  “See that?” he yelled to Cote. Yelling, he noticed vacantly, had become his default mode, as the intense situation seemed to warrant equally intense reactions.

  Instead of yelling back, or answering at all, Cote maintained his cooler head and plunged the Glistering Horizon downward, smashing into the charging crimsons. It was a direct hit, and though it shook the ship bow to stern, they sped ahead, still under control.