Not entirely trusting the Bottom Dwellers, Stephano had insisted that the wild dragons should be saddled and ready to ride. Haelgrund had protested, saying that the duke wouldn’t like it, but Stephano had been adamant. He was wondering now if that had been a bad decision.
“Everyone is here,” announced Haelgrund. “Except the Bottom Dwellers. I don’t see any signs of them.”
They had topped a ridge overlooking the amphitheater. The two dukes were in their places, talking to each other. Haelgrund stopped on the rim of the amphitheater. “I’ll keep the wild dragons with me, Captain, until the duke asks to speak to them. You should go now. You sit on the stone bench to the right of the Duke of Talwin. I would suggest that Sergeant Thorgrimson remain here with me.”
Stephano felt his stomach lurch.
“Steady as she goes, sir,” said Dag, regarding him with concern. “You look a little peaked.”
“I can’t remember the bloody speech,” Stephano said, panicked. “I’ve been composing the damn thing for the last two days and now it’s flown clean out of my head.”
“You’ll do fine, sir,” said Dag. He caught hold of Stephano as he was about to descend into the amphitheater. “This will be the first time we’ve ever been able to talk to these fiends. I was thinking, if you could find a way, you could ask them about Miri and Gythe. They might know something.”
“I’ve been thinking the same,” said Stephano. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Good luck, sir,” said Dag. “I’ll keep an eye on the young ones.”
Stephano walked down into the amphitheater, moving as stiffly as Viola. He carried his hat under his right arm and his left hand was on his sword to keep it from banging against his leg. To reach his seat he had to circle around the noble dragons, who were sitting with their tails curled over their feet, their wings folded, their manes flat and smooth along their necks.
He had met several of them before. One, the Countess de Colvue, had been in the Dragon Brigade, where she had met her mate. The count had died in the Battle of Daenar. He could see her eyes warm when she saw him; he felt a little better knowing he could be certain of at least one ally in her. The others watched him with interest and curiosity, except for the Duke of Talwin, who scanned the sky and said something to the Duke of Whitcliff. Stephano guessed the duke was annoyed that the other humans had not yet arrived. He pulled out his watch. The meeting had been slated to commence at noon and it was already a quarter past the hour.
Good, thought Stephano, taking a seat on the cold stone bench. The enemy will start at a disadvantage.
The dragons waited several more moments, but there was no sign of the Bottom Dwellers. The duke was clearly irritated. He shifted his gaze to Stephano.
“Lord Captain de Guichen, you are welcome.”
The duke introduced the noble dragons, who inclined their heads. The countess said she hoped they would have a chance to visit after the meeting. Then the duke summoned the wild dragons, who crept forward, manes prickling and wings trembling.
The duke greeted them cordially, assuring them all the dragons were pleased to be reunited with their cousins. The young dragons were pleased, but appeared too embarrassed to respond. Introductions over, the duke looked once more for the Bottom Dwellers. The sky remained empty. He glowered and glanced at the other duke, who rumbled something about proceeding with business.
The duke requested Stephano to approach, so Stephano complied, advancing with a bow.
“These people who call themselves the Bottom Dwellers have informed us that they are about to declare war upon your people, Captain,” the duke stated. “They claim they have serious cause for grievances against the governments of the world, and I must say I agree with them. They have requested that we dragons stay out of the war. They have said they have no quarrel with us. We were not a party to the tragedy that befell them, the sinking of their island.”
“Your Grace, honored members of the Gathering, the dragons are in this war whether they like it or not,” said Stephano. “Lord Haelgrund has told me about the drumming, how it disrupts the contramagic balance. These people are killing your young.”
The duke’s mane quivered, his eyes narrowed. “I have heard this theory before. A priest spoke of it to the duchess. I know some here believe it.” His gaze went around the circle of dragons. “I, for one, do not. Lord Haelgrund informs me, Captain, that you would like to reinstate the Dragon Brigade and that you have been urging the former dragon members to join you humans in your fight.”
Stephano cast a sidelong glance at Haelgrund, who gave him a wink.
“The question is this, Captain,” the duke continued, “why should dragons involve themselves in a war that has nothing to do with us? You may speak.”
“First, Your Grace,” said Stephano, “I want to say to the Gathering that I bring with me with an apology from His Highness, the Crown Prince, Alaric Phillip Renaud for disbanding the Dragon Brigade. I am authorized to tell you on his behalf that the crown never meant to insult the dragons and he hopes you will take your places once more as valued citizens of Rosia.”
With the sun blazing down on the stone, Stephano was sweating in the wool coat with its fancy embroidery, gold buttons, and large cuffs. He would have liked to have wiped the perspiration from his face, but feared that would be rude. He waited silently for a reaction. He had chosen his words carefully, but he sensed the dragons were skeptical.
The duke twitched the spikes on his head and expressed the collective thought: “Why didn’t this apology come from the king?”
Stephano had known this was going to be the question and he had no good answer. He couldn’t tell the truth, which was that the palace had been sabotaged and that the king had fallen into some sort of melancholia. The sabotage of the palace was still, officially, a secret.
Nor could Stephano tell the dragons what he considered to be closer to the truth—that King Alaric was a stubborn bastard who would never admit he’d been wrong. Stephano was not a diplomat, but he was a fencer. Turning aside the opponent’s stroke with his blade, he went on the offensive.
“The Bottom Dwellers have already attacked dragons.” He gestured to the wild dragons. “The Bottom Dwellers drove out their families, set fire to their homes. Their talk of peace is a ruse, a pretense—”
“Captain!” Dag bellowed a warning.
Stephano whipped around. Dag would never be so impolite as to interrupt him during this important meeting unless there was an emergency. The young dragons were upset, rumbling among themselves and thumping their tails, which they had been told specifically not to do. Dag pointed to the sky. A black ship, accompanied by hordes of bat riders, was sailing out from a gap in the mountains. The Bottom Dwellers with their lethal green beam weapon were bearing down on the assembled dragons.
Their talk of peace is a trap! Stephano realized.
He could see their plan clearly. The Bottom Dwellers had lured the leaders of the dragons to one place. They planned to attack, destroy all the ruling dragons in one swift blow and throw the dragon realms into chaos.
“About damn time they arrived,” the duke rumbled.
Stephano turned around in shock to see the noble dragons rising slowly and ponderously to greet those they considered to be their guests.
He had a split second to decide what to do. Should he try to convince the noble dragons that they were soon going to be noble sitting ducks? Or should he prepare to take action? If the Bottom Dwellers were truly here to negotiate and he went looking for a fight he would anger the duke, and destroy his chances of bringing the dragons into the war.
Stephano decided that angering the duke was better than allowing the Bottom Dwellers to wipe out the entire dragon hierarchy. He broke into a run, leaving the amphitheater by dashing in between the countess and the Duke of Whitcliff.
As Stephano ran past the countess, he yelled, “Ambush!”
She looked from him to the Bottom Dwellers, then shifted her gaze to the duke
. Her eyes narrowed as her mane rose. Stephano kept running. He didn’t have time to wait to see if she would join him.
The young dragons were preparing for battle. Dag had taken his cue from Stephano and was climbing up onto Verdi’s back and strapping himself into the saddle. Once he had settled in, he drew out his spyglass and clapped it to his eye, training the glass on the black ship.
“They’re manning the green beam weapon, sir!” he shouted.
Stephano swore beneath his breath and ran toward Viola. Haelgrund intervened, blocking his way, clearly upset.
“Captain, what are you doing? You can’t attack these people. They’re here to negotiate. The duke is furious!”
Stephano didn’t need to be told that. The duke’s angry boomings echoed down the mountainside.
“Better furious than dead,” Stephano said. “The fiends are here to kill. Look for yourself, Haelgrund. If they were truly here on a mission of peace, they wouldn’t be manning their weapon!”
Haelgrund shifted his head to gaze at the black ship. He would be able to see the Bottom Dwellers clustered around the cannon, but whether he would act or not, Stephano couldn’t guess. He didn’t have time to argue. He circled around Haelgrund to where Viola crouched in the tall grass, waiting for him. He climbed up onto her foreleg and from there into the saddle and strapped himself in. He and Dag had both loaded their weapons before they set out. He drew his pistol. Dag had his new rifle.
Dag raised the visor of the helm. “What’s the plan, sir?”
“I wish to God I knew,” Stephano returned, putting his helm on his head.
He forced himself to take a breath and think. The bat riders, flying in advance of the black ship, would attack with their green contramagic fireballs. Those might wound the dragons, but they were not likely to be lethal. The green beam weapon could kill with a single shot.
“Target the ship!” Stephano yelled.
He looked behind at Petard, who was flapping his wings, snaking his neck and roaring in rage.
“Petard!” Stephano shouted.
The young dragon didn’t hear him. Viola hooted a command and Petard looked at him.
“Petard, we’re flying for the ship!” Stephano called. “Keep us covered!”
Petard bobbed his head and opened his mouth in a grin, showing his fangs. Stephano had no idea if the young dragon understood him or not. He wished Gythe was here. She had been Petard’s rider. The next moment Stephano was glad Gythe was not here. The likelihood of them surviving this lopsided battle was slim.
Stephano lowered his visor and gave the signal to fly. Viola spread her wings, raised her body, and bounded off the ground, propelling herself into the air with her powerful hind legs.
In the amphitheater, the dragons were in turmoil. Haelgrund was speaking to the duke, forcefully, to judge by the way his neck was stretched forward. The countess had joined Haelgrund. The other dragons were peering uncertainly into the sky. Huddled together, they made an ideal target.
Stephano set his jaw and held on fast while Viola clawed her way into the air. Dag, mounted on Verdi, was behind him. Petard flew ahead. Without a rider or a saddle to encumber him, the young dragon had taken swiftly to the skies, angrily bellowing challenges.
Stephano sighed. That wasn’t what he’d meant by keeping him and Dag covered. At least Petard had caught the attention of the bat riders. Leaving the black ship, they flew straight toward the young dragon.
Stephano smiled grimly. He doubted if the bat riders had ever fought a dragon before. Petard waited, as Stephano had taught him, until the riders were within range, then opened his mouth, sucked in a breath, and unleashed a blast of fire. He incinerated the lead rider and his bat and sent the other two bats flapping off wildly to avoid the blaze.
Stephano pointed emphatically toward the ship, signaling they were to ignore the riders and head straight for the weapon. Dag raised his hand to indicate he understood. Stephano took a brief moment to look back down on the ground. Haelgrund and the duke were still arguing, and the others were hovering nearby. Some, like the countess, gazed upward, watching the battle.
He couldn’t afford to spare them any more attention. He and Viola were coming up on the bat riders. Having seen the fate of their comrades, the riders chose to fire from a distance. They were using the small handheld weapons, not the ungainly cannon-type weapons they had used at the attack on the Abbey.
He braced himself as Viola raised her left wing, dipped her right, and soared past the bat riders. Stephano clung to the saddle, staring straight down at the ground that began to spin beneath him. Green fireballs whizzed past him. Viola righted herself, climbing. Now the ground was gone and the sky was spinning.
Stephano caught a glimpse of Petard bearing down on the bat riders, then heard a roar and felt the heat of fiery breath. A bat and its rider plummeted out of the skies, and then Viola straightened out and resumed her course toward the ship.
Verdi was slower and less maneuverable than Viola, but his breath was far more explosive and he had learned to belch a great glob of fire, then blow it like a deadly soap bubble toward his foes. The blaze incinerated only those in front of him, however, and the bat riders were flying at him and Dag from all directions now.
Stephano shot at one of the bat riders, and then ducked down in the saddle as a green fireball blazed overhead. The next fireball actually struck the saddle. Stephano had no way of knowing if Viola, too, had been hit; He didn’t see how she could avoid it, being such a large target.
Petard was doing his best to drive the fiends away, and Dag and Verdi were under heavy fire. All the while, the black ship was holding course, sailing for the dragons on the ground. Stephano was close enough he could see the green beam weapon swiveling about to take aim. He and Viola were still too far away to stop it. He drew his dragon pistol, urging Viola closer.
Braving the fireballs, Dag stood up in the saddle, aiming the rifle, hoping for a lucky shot that would disable the weapon. Verdi flew as steady as he could, while Petard swooped and blasted at the bat riders. Stephano yelled to Viola and they flew over to help.
Dag fired his rifle and then ducked back down to reload. He hit one of the Bottom Dwellers, who jerked, spun and went over backward, but he missed the gun. Two others continued to man the weapon, and the green beam streaked into the amphitheater. Stephano left the fight to Viola and looked worriedly down at the dragons.
Thick, ugly smoke rose from the amphitheater, obscuring his view. He caught sight of a dragon sprawled on the ground, a mass of blood and bones and burning flesh. Stephano could not tell who had been killed, nor could he see what the other dragons were doing.
“Hopefully they now realize the Bottom Dwellers aren’t here to talk,” Stephano muttered.
A green fireball burst in front of him, half blinding him. The Bottom Dwellers shooting from the ship were using the long guns that had a greater range. Petard was everywhere, diving, swooping, breathing fire, forcing the bat riders to keep their distance, though in his enthusiasm, he once came too close to Viola and scorched her, causing her to snarl at him.
Viola herself was doing an excellent job, as was Verdi. Both dragons were keeping their focus on the ship, not allowing themselves to be drawn off into fighting the bat riders. Stephano could see the blackened scales on Verdi’s flanks where he had been hit. The wounds did not appear severe, but that was deceptive. The contramagic would eat painfully at the dragon’s flesh and scales, doing extensive damage.
The dragons were closing in on the ship. Viola opened her mouth, her jaws gaped, her eyes blazed. Verdi roared in rage. Petard flew in fast, hooting with joy. The Bottom Dwellers lining the rails saw death flying toward them. Some broke and ran. Others held grimly to their task.
The green beam weapon was mounted on the forecastle, a raised deck on the bow of the ship, manned by only two Bottom Dwellers now that their third lay in a pool of blood.
Stephano and Viola would fly in first, hitting the gun with dragon fire from ab
ove, then Petard would follow. Viola started to attack, but was forced to veer off as her little brother dove in ahead of her. Crazed by battle, without a rider to guide him, Petard flew straight at the green beam weapon. Opening his jaws, he sucked in his breath.
A man whose clothes were covered in blood shoved aside the soldiers and took charge of the weapon himself. He aimed the green beam at point-blank range at Petard, who was so excited he didn’t see his own danger. Viola strained against the harness, longing to swoop in to save her brother. Stephano held her back and even she seemed to realize there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t set fire to the gun without hitting Petard.
Before the man could shoot, Petard breathed a gust of fire that sent flames rippling and flowing over the forecastle like molten lava. The dragon was so close he had to make a mad scramble to avoid crashing into the burning ship. His wings flapped wildly, his legs paddled the air, and he nearly flipped over backward. His tail struck the burning forecastle, smashing it to fiery splinters.
The captain bellowed orders to come about and retreat. Viola hissed angrily at Petard, who gave her a wide grin. Stephano signaled to Dag that they were going in for the kill. Here was his chance to remove at least one black ship from the fight.
Stephano and Dag and their dragons were about to launch their attack when Haelgrund suddenly appeared in front of Stephano, flying so close he almost clipped Viola’s snout.
“Stop!” Haelgrund roared.
Stephano tapped on his helm to indicate that he couldn’t hear.
“Stop!” Haelgrund roared again. He glared at Viola and repeated the word in the dragon language.
Confused, Viola looked back at Stephano. He yanked off his helm in anger.
“What are you doing, Haelgrund? Get out of my way!”
“The duke orders you to stop, Stephano,” said Haelgrund. “I need not remind you that you are in dragon territory and subject to dragon law.”
The Seventh Sigil Page 24
