by Wesley King
Nolong roared, his entire body rippling with corded muscle, and then he yanked the huge white wing clean off of the Destroyer. The disabled drone plummeted into the palace courtyard and exploded.
Marcus patted his side. “Nice one, Nolong!”
“Many more to go,” he rumbled, heading back into the open sky.
He was right. Marcus saw that many of the dragons were taking hits. Three were already down, as was one Rider—an older man named Gonly who had been a farmer in a nearby village. Marcus spotted Nathaniel and his dragon about a hundred feet up, slashing at the drones as they whizzed past, screaming fierce battle cries. Ciaran was not far either, diving with her dragon after another huge Destroyer. They looked like true Riders: one with their dragons. Marcus searched the sky for the most important person: Jack.
He spotted him almost immediately on a headlong course for the palace. The way was clear.
Teen Hybrid suddenly unleashed its two missiles on the palace, collapsing a huge section of the wall to allow ground troops to break inside. Jack then opened fire with the machine guns, taking out many of the crossbows, trebuchets, and other air defenses as planned. They crumbled into shattered wood under the intense fire, and Teen Hybrid swooped over the ruins, heading back for the main battle.
Beyond him, Marcus saw that the control room was still exposed where the ceiling had been blown apart by Baby Hybrid during Marcus and Dree’s last trip to the palace—and Francis Xidorne stood there calmly, watching the battle unfold. He looked smug, confident. A reserve of some ten drones flanked the control room—protecting Francis and waiting for action.
The message was clear: Francis didn’t need his walls. He had the drones.
Marcus was just about to dive for Francis when Baby Hybrid entered the battle.
She zoomed in out of nowhere, firing bullets and missiles and downing two dragons almost instantly. Marcus watched in horror as she whirled around for another pass, gunning down the Dragon Rider Eria and her dragon Orlon in a hail of bullets. Both fell limply toward the ground far below. As Marcus had feared, the dragons were no match for Baby Hybrid. Only another hybrid could destroy their work.
On cue, Jack sped past him atop Teen Hybrid, heading straight for the original.
The two hybrids launched into an aerial dance, and Marcus lost sight of them as Nolong dove back into the fray. Concerned for Jack, he caught a glimpse of them again high above, where they were exchanging fire. Teen Hybrid erupted in sparks as the bullets nipped into its wing, and Jack steered it out of the way. As the two hybrids made another pass at each other and turned, Jack used the new accelerators to wheel about more sharply, beating Baby Hybrid to the turn. As the original tried to follow the maneuver, Jack fired everything he had.
Bullets erupted into the hull of the original, slicing through the lighter metal plating and finally connecting with the power cells. When the bullets hit, one of the power cells blew, shattering one side of the hybrid and sending her cartwheeling out of the sky toward the distant ground. He heard his uncle whoop, and the call was taken up by the rest of the fighters below him.
Marcus pumped his fist and turned back to the battle. Maybe they still had a chance after all.
Nolong managed to take down another two Trackers, ripping them apart savagely, but none were as successful as Jack. He was downing drones everywhere with Teen Hybrid. The drones soon caught on. Jack flew past, pursued by five Trackers. And though he was putting Teen Hybrid through every maneuver possible, they were closing in fast. Marcus saw a flash of spark as the first bullets connected with the hybrid’s hull, tearing some steel plating clean off the wing.
“We have to help him, Nolong!” Marcus shouted.
Nolong took off after Jack, managing to latch on to one of the chasing Trackers and rip off its wing. The Tracker went spiraling downward, plunging right through the battle and scattering drones and dragons alike.
“Hang on, Jack!” Marcus cried.
His uncle managed to open fire on another Tracker, blasting it apart; but as he turned to avoid the wreckage, one of the drones finally connected with a power cell. Teen Hybrid’s right wing burst into flame, and Jack shouted, trying to avoid the blazing fire. He crawled toward the left wing, losing control.
“Jump!” Marcus said.
The fire spread rapidly, heading for the remaining power cells, and Marcus saw Jack give a last command to the hybrid before he leapt off the side. Another power cell blew, and Teen Hybrid flew toward the ground like a flaming arrow—aiming right at one of the massive crossbows that were launching steel arrows into the air. It connected and exploded, taking the weapon out with it. Marcus felt his stomach turn as he watched another hybrid vanish in fire, but it had done its job and then some. It had cracked the palace open, and it had even taken out its predecessor. And now they had to save Uncle Jack.
“Dive!” Marcus said.
Nolong was way ahead of him. He angled his golden wings and they plunged after a flailing Jack, right through the thick of the air battle. Nolong caught the back of Jack’s armor with an extended talon and opened his great golden wings just in time to slow their rapid descent. They swept toward the ground, and Nolong gently released Jack onto the cobblestone street. He rolled and then jumped back to his feet.
“Get to cover!” Marcus shouted.
“Be careful!” Jack said, and then hurried toward a brick shop.
Nolong launched himself back into the air, surveying the battle as they climbed.
“We’re in trouble, young Rider,” he said gravely. “Their numbers are too great.”
Marcus saw another dead dragon slam into a building. “Yeah. Let’s try to fix that.”
Dree plunged her sword into the back of a drone, stabbing right into a power cell. The drone shorted out, and Lourdvang pushed off the back of the Tracker, letting it fall toward the palace. Dree looked around.
They had destroyed many drones already, but the Resistance’s numbers were dwindling fast. Many of the solo dragons had been taken out first, having only two eyes instead of four to watch out for danger. But even the Riders were being gunned down now. She counted at least five that had gone down already, and she watched as another dragon and Rider were hit by a missile and vanished. She looked away, sickened.
“We can’t win this way,” Lourdvang said.
“I know.”
She had already watched Teen Hybrid get blown out of the sky. Even though it had done its job, they had now lost their most potent weapon. Erdath and Abelard swept past, pursued by drones. Behind them, Ciaran was fighting madly, already bleeding from a severe bullet wound on her shoulder.
“Help her!” Dree said.
Lourdvang turned toward Ciaran, and Dree ducked as a Tracker nearly took off her head. The storm of bullets was everywhere, bouncing off dragons’ scales or ripping through vulnerable wings. Lourdvang already had two holes on his left wing—thankfully small enough that he could still fly.
They slammed into one of the drones chasing Ciaran, and Lourdvang ferociously tore it apart, spraying it with fire at the same time and disintegrating the exposed circuitry. Dree launched a fireball at another drone, causing it to dodge out of the way, and they soon caught up to Ciaran, flying wing to wing.
“Are you okay?” Dree shouted, eyeing the wound on her arm.
Ciaran nodded. “Good enough.”
They split off as a Destroyer rushed between them, firing with both guns, and Lourdvang dove sharply before turning back to assist Ciaran. The pursuing drones had all stuck to her, perhaps sensing her vulnerability, and were still firing. One flew past her, and she swung her sword wildly, trying to connect with its wing; but she missed, overextending herself. The Tracker behind her opened fire, and the bullets tore directly into her back, piercing the fire-resistant armor like it was warm cheese. The force of the impact knocked her from the dragon, and her limp body fell toward the
ground. She was already dead.
Dree screamed and saw Ciaran’s dragon, Morningstar, roar in absolute despair before turning and throwing herself at the chasing drones. She destroyed two of them in fury before they killed her too.
“Lourdvang, we have to get to the palace—”
She saw too late that Erdath and Abelard had already had the same thought. They were racing headlong toward the exposed control room at the back of the palace, a trail of smoke following them as Erdath challenged the drones. Abelard had his sword over his head, and he too was screaming a war cry.
“After them!” Dree shouted. “Hurry!”
Lourdvang leapt into action, following the rapid descent of Erdath. For a moment, it looked like they were following an ancient legend come back to life: Rider and dragon charging toward their enemies in the morning light, Abelard’s sword held high overhead and catching the sun’s rays like burning fire.
But the drones were not easily beaten.
The reserve force over the control room turned to them in unison and opened fire. Missiles and bullets erupted toward Erdath and Abelard in a great wave, and Erdath dodged frantically, avoiding the barrage. But he could not avoid them all. The bullets tore into his wings, shredding them, and a missile collided with his chest, throwing Abelard off his back. Lourdvang cried out as Erdath rolled, his eyes meeting Lourdvang’s and then blinking out. Abelard fell alone, and bullets tore through his body.
“Catch my father!” Dree shrieked. She knew Erdath was already dead.
Lourdvang tore himself from Erdath’s vacant gaze and went after Abe. Erdath fell toward the control room, and she saw Francis back up as he realized the massive dragon was going to land right on top of him. For a second, she thought Erdath might end it. But one of the Destroyers careened into the dead body, knocking it aside and sending both crashing into another part of the castle.
Lourdvang continued to roar as they swept under Abe, allowing Dree to pull him in. Lourdvang launched a wave of fire toward the control room and then climbed, trying to avoid the deadly barrage of bullets. Dree turned to her father and gasped. He had bullet holes covering his side and chest.
“Dad!”
He met her eyes, and she saw that they were already clouded. “My darling Driele.”
She pressed her hands to one of his wounds. “We need to get you bandaged up—”
“No,” he said, as Lourdvang swept away from the palace and toward the outlying city streets.
Abelard kept one hand on his sword and used the other to stroke her cheek.
“I am so proud of you, Dree,” he whispered. “You will win this war, I know it. You are more a Dragon Rider than anyone I have ever known. A Fury. My own daughter. I am so very proud.”
Dree felt tears soaking her cheeks. “We will win this,” she said. “You’ll be okay.”
Lourdvang landed, and he knelt down so that Dree could ease her father off his back. She slid to the ground, cradling him, and looked around wildly for help. But Abelard took her arm.
“Dree, no one can help. I’m dying . . . but I am dying as a Rider, as the man I was. And I can think of no better way to go. You gave me hope. You brought me back here. And now I go to meet my ancestors proudly.”
“Dad—”
“It’s okay, Dree. Oron waits for me on the other side. A Rider can ask for nothing else.” He coughed and grimaced at the racking pain, and Dree saw his eyes clouding. “Tell your brothers and sisters I love them. Tell your mom . . . tell her I will see her again. Be good, Dree. I love you more than you could ever know.”
Abelard’s eyes widened, a brilliant blue, and then life passed from him. His body fell limp in her arms, his head rolling to the side, and Dree felt something inside of her break.
Her vision blurred and her skin erupted into fire, covering her completely. She screamed and shrieked and was racked by painful sobs. She laid her father down and climbed back onto Lourdvang’s back.
“Go!” she screamed.
Lourdvang felt her rage and anguish and leapt into the air, charging into the thick of the drones. Dree’s sword blazed with fire as she lashed out everywhere, and Lourdvang tore at wings and hulls and whatever he could grab. Dree stabbed her sword through a Tracker, still screaming as she did it, and Lourdvang destroyed another. They were like living fire.
But they had attracted the attention of the other drones now, and through her haze, Dree suddenly saw the danger as at least ten of the remaining drones swept down behind them.
“Dive!” she said.
Lourdvang immediately broke toward the ground, crossing the city toward the palace. The drones closed in pursuit, firing wildly, and Lourdvang howled as another bullet tore through his wing. They had just flown over the palace walls when a missile sped past and exploded into the courtyard, creating a massive fireball. Dree saw soldiers flying in all directions, and Lourdvang was blown sideways as well, just barely keeping himself from hitting the ground. Dree wasn’t so lucky. Her left hand slipped from his scales, and she felt herself falling. The courtyard rushed toward her—hard cobblestone—and she just managed to turn herself in midair to land on her feet. It wasn’t enough. She hit the ground hard and felt her left leg crack under the impact. Agony swept through her as she rolled across the courtyard. As she slowed to a stop, she spotted a winged shadow as Lourdvang swept back over the wall, still pursued by drones. And then she saw the surviving soldiers closing in on her, their spears ready for the kill.
She closed her eyes, defeated. It was up to Marcus to win the battle now.
She thought she would be scared, but instead, she saw her father waiting for her, holding Gavri under one arm, and she knew she would see them soon.
Chapter
25
Marcus saw Dree hit the ground hard and felt his stomach drop. Soldiers were closing in on her fast, and they didn’t look like they were going to take any prisoners.
“Nolong—”
“I see her!”
The Sage swooped down over the palace, dodging one of the great ivory towers, and then swept in for a hard landing in the courtyard, spraying fire at the encroaching soldiers and sending them all scattering for cover. Marcus leapt off Nolong’s back and ran to Dree, kneeling down beside her.
“Are you okay?”
She opened her eyes and blinked, as if surprised to see him there. “Marcus?”
“Last time I checked. Come on, we need to get you out of here.” He grabbed her hand to pull her up and she cried out. “What is it?” he asked, looking at her in concern.
“My leg,” she said weakly. “It’s bad.”
Marcus slipped her arm over his shoulder and slowly lifted her. “Keep your weight on me.”
“Lourdvang—”
“Still fighting,” Marcus said, pointing up to where Lourdvang was trying to get back to Dree.
“We’re losing, Marcus,” she managed, as he helped to push her onto Nolong. “It’s over.”
“Not while we’re still alive,” Marcus said sharply, though he didn’t have much hope either. He had seen Erdath go down, and then Abelard’s fiery end. More than half of the Resistance had been wiped out as well, and he had seen far too much death and destruction already today. But they couldn’t give up now.
There wouldn’t be another chance.
Marcus managed to get Dree onto Nolong’s back, and then he hopped up beside her, wrapping his arms around her. She was crying softly, and he held her close, sharing the pain with her.
“We’re going after Francis,” he said. “We just need to take him out. Nolong, let’s . . .”
He stopped as a flicker of motion caught his eye. Marcus looked up and slumped.
There, hovering just overhead, were a Destroyer and two Trackers. All three had their missiles locked on to Nolong, and from their positions, they couldn’t miss.
It was over.
“Dree, I’m sorry,” Marcus whispered.
Marcus prepared for the end, and for a second, it seemed like it happened. There was a flash of crimson that blotted out the sun, and he heard the sounds of tearing metal and crackling fire. In an instant, the three drones lay scattered across the courtyard, and a massive red dragon was heading back to the sky.
“The Flames,” Dree said in wonder.
Nolong jumped into the air, and they saw that a huge pack of crimson dragons were approaching from the mountains—there had to be almost a hundred of them. One dropped down beside Marcus and Dree, its great wings flapping through the air. It was Vicar, the cruel dragon who always sat beside Helvath. She eyed them, baring her huge teeth as if in a distorted grin.
“You’re helping us?” Marcus asked, amazed.
“Helvath forbade it,” she said. “But we could allow this no longer. We will not wait for the drones to call on us and our kin.” She growled, turning back to the battle. “Besides, they killed Vero—one of our own. We had to avenge her.”
With that, Vicar leapt back into the air, latching herself on to the back of a Destroyer in a fit of rage. Suddenly, Lourdvang appeared beside them, and Marcus helped Dree onto his back. She grimaced and cried out, but made it, gripping Lourdvang’s scales for balance.
“We need to help,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Lourdvang took off back into the air, and Marcus turned to Nolong.
“Get me to the control room.”
Nolong flew over the palace, staying close to the white towers for cover. As Marcus had guessed, Francis had sent in his reserve of drones to help defend against the Flames. He was now left without any defense.
“Drop me off,” Marcus said, grabbing his sword. “It’s time to end this.”
Nolong swept down a few feet from the ground, and Marcus hopped off, landing in a crouch.
Then he slowly stood up again, facing Francis from across the control room.
