Dragonhold (Book 2)

by Brian Rathbone

  Kenward shook his head. His sister had a talent for understatement.

  "Go now!" Catrin called out. "Can't hold it any longer!"

  At the same time, Onin's cry reached them. Both Morif and Bradley released their ropes in near synchronicity. Morif's stone flew from the hold in a sweeping arc. Bradley's barely made it past the gate. The two men were nearly sucked into the air when Jehregard swept past at full speed. Catching Morif's rope in his massive jaws, the verdant dragon turned immediately and soared away. Dragonhold trembled when Kyrien struck the stone at high speed and latched on to the rope Bradley had thrown. The valiant guard stood, windmilling at the entrance until Morif caught the back of his coat and dragged him away.

  The coils sang as the dragons flew away. Anyone caught in those ropes would suffer a quick death, and Kenward was glad to see the two safely away. Time passed slowly then as they waited for the last coils to run out. This would be no gentle ride. Gwen's thrust edged higher in pitch, her face glistening with sweat. What he hadn't expected to see was Jessub Tillerman run to where she was secured.

  "No!" Gwen shouted.

  Only a few coils of rope remained.

  "Maybe I can help you this time," Jessub insisted. "Draw strength from me!"

  "You're not sec--" Gwen's words were cut off when the shorter of the two ropes snapped taut, wrenching the Dragon's Wing sideways.

  Had he not been tied to the rail, Kenward would have gone overboard, as would many of the others aboard. Jessub was the only one not secured, and he sprawled across the deck. Half a dozen people looked to be considering untying themselves to help the young man, but it was already too late. The Dragon's Wing lurched forward, and the second rope snapped taut, now jerking the ship back in the other direction, which righted her. They were now pointed toward the sky at least.

  The logs beneath them creaked in protest but mostly did what the people had hoped they would. Saved only by slamming into the rigging, Jessub pulled himself from the deck and clawed his way to Gwen. All Kenward could see was open sky. It was a welcome sight; he just hoped it wouldn't be his last. He did notice another increase in the pitch of Gwen's thrust. It was not enough.

  A slick, glistening log, not quite fully rounded and smooth, caught on something, twisting beneath the Dragon's Wing, and casting the ship sideways once again. The hull dragged along bare stone for a brief time. Sideways and with less speed than anyone had hoped, the Dragon's Wing burst into the Pinook Valley. The ship screamed as she came, or at least her passengers did.

  The Dragon's Wing pitched downward and plummeted, leaving them staring at rocky, debris-strewn ground below. At that moment, lift was what they needed most, but Gwen specialized in thrust.

  "You can do it," Jessub shouted. Repeating words still ingrained in his memory, he hoped to channel Pelivor's calm but soon failed.

  The Dragon's Wing shot downward with incredible speed until the ropes went taut again and snapped the prow upward. Kenward prayed dragons were as powerful as they appeared since it seemed they were the only thing keeping the Wing aloft.

  Now those aboard were treated to an unobstructed view of the horizon, a sight Kenward had dearly missed. Ahead Jehregard and Kyrien flapped hard, trying to pull the Dragon's Wing high enough to avoid the peaks on the valley's opposite side. It wasn't going to be enough. Kenward issued one last prayer as a rock wall raced toward them like the hammer of the gods.

  Nothing could have prepared them for the sudden change in trajectory. The hull thrummed with impact. It was not the rocks they had hit but the feral queen. Wings extended on either side of the ship, and Kenward looked down in amazement. This was a sight he'd never thought to see. Silently Kenward thanked the feral queen and Allette, wherever she was. Somehow she'd managed to save them all. He hadn't misjudged her. That thought made Kenward Trell smile.

  Clearing the highest peaks and soaring over open seas brought encouragement and a thrill. Their flight path leveled and stabilized, and Gwen provided sufficient thrust to keep them moving forward. Unfortunately no one had figured out what they would do next. There simply hadn't been enough time. No time remained, as the feral queen dropped from beneath them without warning and wheeled away, flying back toward the Godfist.

  Kenward would have thanked her if he weren't so busy screaming.

  Chapter 10

  If you work with horses long enough, you're bound to get stepped on. If you work with dragons long enough, well, wear sturdy boots.

  --Durin, dragon groom

  * * *

  A dispirited group gathered not far from where the kitchen tunnels opened into the main hall. Those assembled had various reasons for staying within Dragonhold as well as reasons, perhaps, that they might have wanted to go. For Miss Mariss, the Dragon's Wing carried with her bonds of blood and friendship. Watching the ship being hurled into the air tied her guts in knots. She'd had to see it firsthand, to know the fate of those she cared about. Strong hands steadied her all the while, knowing just what it was she watched.

  Morif did his best to support both Millie and Miss Mariss, but she knew he, too, was probably struggling with his decision. Soon they would be trapped once again, with the chance none of them would ever escape Dragonhold alive, but Miss Mariss knew her place. If Catrin stayed, she stayed. Chase and Bradley stood nearby, pillars of strength and dedication. She was grateful for them as well. It was easier to be strong when those around you were strong.

  Seeing the Dragon's Wing carried by dragons then lost from view was more than Millie could bear, and she walked toward the kitchens. "No sense worrying over the things I can't do anything about when there's work needing done."

  Morif grunted in agreement.

  * * *

  None on the Dragon's Wing untied themselves. It was clear Kyrien and Jehregard would be able to keep them airborne for only so long. The ship would need to either fly on her own or end up in the water. Conventional sailing would have suited them all just fine if not for the distance between them and the waves. It didn't help that hastily tied knots were coming loose and weren't all that well placed to begin with. Setting the ropes farther apart would have lent stability to their flight, but there had been no time, and it was far too late to do anything about it. If the dragons had to lower them into the water, they would go in at a bad angle.

  Gwen extricated herself from Jessub's overzealous embrace, leaving him secured with part of her harness she'd loosened enough to admit his torso. It wasn't perfect, but Kenward hoped it would keep him from going overboard. Jessub grabbed her hands and cast their arms out wide, emulating Pelivor.

  "Create the leading edge first," Jessub said as calmly as he could. "Then pull back to create a completely flat surface that cuts the air." The air around them issued a steady low rumble. "And when you feel comfortable, shape the wing."

  For the briefest instant, wing structures provided lift. Two dragons still supported them, but the ship swung between them like a crazed pendulum. The feral queen had held them high then dropped them. Not unlike a bird kicked from the nest, it was fly or fall. Jehregard and Kyrien flew with all their might, trying to account for the feral queen's absence.

  Clouds obscured the light and Gwen faltered. Yanking her hands away, she placed them back on the thrust tubes and did what came natural to her.

  "You can do it!" Jessub shouted. "You just about had it!"Gulping air, the young man leaned into the wind and applied his own will to support Gwen's efforts. Traces of light glittered alongside the ship but failed to take form. The wind tore at them, further destabilizing their attempted flight. Gwen reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. The pitch of her thrust went down dramatically, but the energy boost was enough to let the formations solidify. When the clouds parted, bathing Gwen and Jessub in full light, they achieved stability.

  For the first time since they left Dragonhold, the Dragon's Wing flew on her crew's merit.

  With the wing formations stabilized, Gwen withdrew her energy.

  "I'm losing it," J
essub shouted as the wing structures wavered and faltered in turbulent air. Again the pitch of Gwen's thrust lowered as she bolstered his will. Simultaneously proud and embarrassed, Jessub did his best to concentrate.

  "Can you keep us aloft?" Fasha asked.

  Jessub remained silent, unable to do so by himself.

  "We can do it," Gwen said. "Jessub and I can do it. We believe in each other."

  At those words, Kyrien and Jehregard released the ropes. If the Wing was going to fly, she was going to have to do it on her own. The dragons parted and flew away. Onin and Jehregard flew toward the Firstland. Kyrien disappeared into the clouds.

  Strapped in and with the physical, emotional, and energetic support of the crew, Jessub Tillerman did his best to take them lower--safely.

  When the Dragon's Wing did grace the seas once again, she entered the water like a brick. Jessub managed to land the Dragon's Wing without sinking her, though he did soak the crew.

  Gwen shook her head and unbuckled herself. "I thought you were going to kill us all."

  "Sorry about that," Jessub said, his head hung so low, Kenward could barely see how red his face was. "It looked like you needed help."

  Gwen smiled. "I did, and somehow being smothered by you did manage to improve the situation."

  He grinned at that statement. "I told Gramma and Grampa I'd be a great adventurer one day," he said with a catch in his voice and a tear on his cheek.

  "And that you are," Kenward said. "By the looks of it part flightmaster and part thrustmaster to boot. You're going to have to tell me how you learned so fast. You should have seen what it was like trying to get Pelivor to do it."

  "I watched him and Gwen. Always thought I could see the wing structures but never believed I could do it myself."

  "What changed your mind?" Kenward asked.

  "I hated being in Dragonhold," Jessub admitted. "Once the barrier went up, I felt like I was suffocating. Most people seemed to be fine, but those with power suffered." he shrugged. "After that, I just acted on instinct. I thought we were all going to die."

  "You did well," Fasha said. "Now we just need to figure out what to do next."

  "Please," Sinjin said as he emerged from the crowd. Kenward hadn't even seen him board. It must have been terribly difficult to leave his mother behind. "Take us home."

  This was the first time Kenward had heard Sinjin refer to the Firstland as home. It was progress, he supposed. Going there suited him just fine. Most of his crew was aboard and the Firstland was as easy a place as any to build a new airship. Having access to dragons tended to make a great many things easier.

  After no one aboard offered any argument, Fasha set a course. Wind and sail propelled them, and Kenward could hardly believe it. Taking deep breaths and stretching out on the deck of his sister's ship, he enjoyed it while it lasted. A few moments later, a bird flew overhead and he grinned.

  * * *

  Reconciling figures and accounts was far from Nora Trell's favorite task, but it was among her most productive. A successful business did not thrive without a firm hand on the tiller. A firm hand was born of confidence. Her job was to make sure that confidence was warranted and their course true. Grimacing, she closed her long-term tallies. Costs were up and profits were down. The world changed and a successful trader had to change with it or become obsolete.

  Beneath the ledgers rested a thick tome, weathered and aged but whole. A strip of white silk saved her page, and she resumed her search. She'd taught her children well, and they had discovered things beyond her wildest imaginings. Now that she knew what was possible, though, she could imagine a great many things. Knowledge was the key. Trade was always more profitable when you know things others do not. The Trell family had always thrived on innovation, their ship designs unmatched. But Nora knew the truth. The Trader's Wind would soon become at least partially obsolete. Each page of this faded text held the potential for discovery, though few did more than tantalize. So many things the ancients knew but did not write down. Their tales intrigued but failed to provide adequate detail. Even so, she'd already learned much.

  The next page bore an illustration of a complex spherical object. Reading the description, Nora drew a sharp breath. When one of her runners entered without a knock; placed a small, rolled parchment on her desk; and silently left the room, Nora smiled. Having a well-trained staff was one of the keys to a successful business. She did not yet know the name of that young man, but soon she would.

  The rolled parchment was difficult to open, mostly because it was so small, having come by bird. She also feared what it might contain. With her children, she never knew what to expect, and this message had without doubt come from Fasha. Some things a mother knew. "What trouble have my children gotten into this time?"

  After reading the missive, all she could do was shake her head. Something would have to be done--something drastic.

  * * *

  Molten stone and sparks flowed from the keystone. The concussion from Allette's attack had knocked Strom and Osbourne clear of the major devastation. They had been pelted with hot rocks but bore mostly bruises and cuts that would heal given time.

  "Durin." Osbourne said the name before Strom could get it out. No answer came.

  The men moved with cautious haste to find the young man, and when they did, both drew sharp breaths. Durin did not move. Parts of his clothing and one boot were on fire. Moving as quickly as they could, they pulled Durin away from the molten rock spewing from deep fissures in the cavern floor. The damage to the Black Spike's foundation sent rocks crashing down from above. Delaying only long enough to put out the flames, they dragged Durin's unconscious form back to the tunnels.

  "What are we going to do now?" Osbourne asked.

  "You choose," Strom said, the consequences of his last decision still fresh.

  Osbourne was silent for a moment after gently lowering Durin to the stone floor and checking his pulse. "He's alive."

  Strom just grunted.

  "We go back up the way we came in," Osbourne said.

  Doing his best not to despair, Strom tried not to think about the stones that had closed in behind them during their descent. Having been so close to simply stepping into another place taunted him. Their chance had passed. They could have gone just about anywhere, and they had stayed within this black pit like fools. It was perhaps the stupidest thing he'd ever done, and he suspected they would pay with their lives. Durin may have already done so.

  Strom was no fool. He'd seen people die from less grievous wounds, and Durin's comatose condition did not bode well for the young man. He needed the kind of medical attention they were neither trained nor equipped to provide.

  Osbourne came up with the idea of making a litter from just their shirts and jackets. The result was more sling than litter, but it did make it easier to carry Durin's limp form. The thought of carrying the young man up the spiral stair made Strom quail, but he pushed the thought from his mind.

  Getting back out of the tunnels didn't take as long as Strom had thought it would. Eventually they reached the place where they had found the dragon skull and the second figurine. Now, though, the skull was gone. Osbourne looked over his shoulder at Strom, who just shrugged. After a tense moment, Osbourne chose. He walked into the hall the skull had previously warned them against. Durin had said he thought there was water in this place, and Strom suspected that was what made the decision for Osbourne. It was the same call he would have made himself, and somehow that made him feel responsible anyway. Inescapable guilt tormented him.

  "Stop there."

  The voice came without warning, and the two men nearly dropped poor Durin. Strom shifted his grip on the makeshift litter and looked around.

  "You are welcome here, but please come no farther for your own protection."

  They eased Durin to the black stone. Before them a brightly illuminated chamber danced with ever-shifting light reflected off glistening rock. Glowing crystals jutted from what was, by the look of it, a
naturally formed chamber. Beside a shimmering pool stood a saltbark tree; Strom would know the crystal-covered leaves anywhere.

  Between them and the pool stood perhaps the most beautiful creature either had ever seen. Clothed in glittering emerald leaves, her long hair cascaded in intricate braids that sparkled in the light.

  "The one you call Durin acted bravely. His wounds are grievous."

  Strom nodded at this, a tear falling from his eye and his chin quivering. He faced judgment for his actions.

  "You are loyal, faithful, and a man of integrity, Strom."

  "You have us at a disadvantage, my lady," Osbourne said.

  The beautiful woman laughed a tittering trill that set Strom's heart at ease. "Forgive me. I do not meet new people often and I forget my manners. I am a dryad. My full name is long, but you can call me Larissarelatarenfall."

  Strom was grateful to his friend for knowing what to say.

  "Forgive us, lady," Osbourne said. "Our tongues are clumsy. May we call you Larissa?"

  The dryad laughed again but soon returned her attention to Durin. "He has suffered enough," she said and carefully removed a sparkling leaf from above her left breast. The leaf was bigger and had more crystals than any Strom remembered from the saltbark trees in the shallows.

  Larissa bent down and gently took Durin's head in her hands. Her pale white flesh stood out in contrast to Durin's tanned and now burned, soot-covered skin. With motherly care, she tilted his head back until his mouth opened. Placing the leaf on his tongue like the greatest treasure, Larissa slid a hand under Durin's jaw and pressed his mouth closed.

  The young man made no reaction.

  "Will he live?" Strom asked, choked with emotion.

  Larissa met his eyes. "There is nothing I can do that will heal all his wounds, friend Strom, but I do think he will live. For now, we must let him rest."

  * * *

  Under clear blue skies, the Dragon's Wing skimmed the waves,Jessub Tillerman just barely managing the role of flightmaster. Even with experience gained during the long and arduous journey back to the Firstland, the entire crew was exhausted and no one, including him, wanted to take the ship any higher than necessary. On occasion they clipped tall waves, slowing their progress, but it was still far faster than traditional sailing. Capable of maintaining flight, albeit without great confidence, Jessub had also learned to provide thrust. The only time he could practice was when they were in the water, but Gwen proved a skilled teacher. Jessub was unable to return the favor, and flying the Dragon's Wing unassisted remained beyond her abilities. Providing thrust came to him more easily than acting as flightmaster, but there was no one else aboard to replace him. It was a feeling that would take some getting used to.