Dragonjacks: Book 1 - The Shepherd: A Dragons of Cadwaller Novel

by Vickie Knestaut

  “I do not,” Sirvon said. “But I have sent word to my associate. A man with many connections and resources. A man you have just robbed of a horde. And I assure you that he will see that your young friend never leaves his camp.”

  Tyber gritted his teeth. He looked to his side, to the boots of Brath standing beside him.

  “Magic is a subject he is fond of,” Sirvon said. “He and his friends. And they will be very interested in hearing how you have managed to ensorcell these dragons and how you killed Pendro with your wizardry.”

  Ander chuckled. “I took you to be a smarter man than that, Sirvon. I’m no sorcerer. I’m just an old weyrboy.”

  “Your mistake, then, to misjudge me. Here is the matter at hand. I have a horde of dragons that must get out of sight before dawn. They cannot be hanging around this root cellar for just anyone to see. So you will be transferred to the barn. If you agree to cooperate, I will allow you to fly out to your camp and collect your friend and his dragon and bring them back here. Otherwise, he will die. I do not need him. I only need you.”

  “If you need me, then you need both Ren and Tyber, too.”

  “Which is why I’m giving you the choice. These dragons are needed. As much as it pains me to say so, they need not be led by me. If you will agree to work with me and my associates, then you will continue to live. Do a good job, and you might even prosper as well. But the minute I no longer have your cooperation, I no longer have control of this horde. And if I no longer have control of the horde, then I no longer have any need of you. Or your friends. Is that understood?”

  Ander didn’t respond right away.

  Tyber turned his face toward the dragoneer. His eye smarted where Halton had socked him. Grimacing only made it worse.

  “What exactly is it you need the dragons for?” Ander asked. “What kind of work would you have me doing?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It’s honest work,” Brath interjected.

  “Shush!” Sirvon snapped.

  “Honest work?” Ander asked.

  “You will be expected to run errands. To complete tasks. Mostly, you will be tasked with keeping the King’s hordesmen out of this corner of the kingdom.”

  “And if I should come across the King’s hordesmen?”

  “You will drive them from the sky.”

  “That’s an awful lot of work. I’ve always found that the best way to deal with the King’s hordesmen is to stay out of their way. If I were to make a nuisance of myself, it would only invite them to send more riders out here.”

  “If you cannot complete the task, then I have no use for you.”

  “All right,” Ander said. “I’ve never been one to back down from a good fight. I’ll give it a try.”

  “I’m going to need a little more than that, Ander. I’m not proposing that you take up a new hobby here. This isn’t knitting.”

  “If you’re going to be vague with your requirements, then I’m going to be vague with my answers. You start telling me what you’re about, then I’ll start telling you whether I can deliver.”

  “Fair enough,” Sirvon said. “For now, let’s get the dragons out of the open. Bring them.”

  Tyber was hauled to his feet. The second the soles of his boots touched the ground, he was marched forward roughly, down a path beaten into the grass. He peered over his shoulder as Verana spread her wings, blocking out the view of the gods behind her. She lunged into the air, flapped her wings several times, then glided to the ground behind them, sending Sirvon off the path to avoid her. Rius joined her, and then the others, ambling along in a single file.

  The dragon in the rear, one that couldn’t be made out for the poor light, limped along behind them.

  Chapter 16

  A boot nudged Tyber awake.

  He rolled onto his back and looked up into the face of Halton. The man glared down at him, a lantern in his hand.

  “Get up. Time to fly.”

  Tyber stretched, then looked at his palm before Halton turned away. It was red and puffy. It hurt to close it into a fist as if there was too much flesh on his hand now.

  It would make plucking a bowstring difficult, if not impossible. And forget wielding a sword.

  Not that any such opportunity was likely to present itself.

  Tyber pushed himself to his knees. Brath accompanied Ander across the barn. The others led their dragons out the door and into the sunshine.

  “Look, I’m really sorry—”

  “Shut up,” Halton said, staring after Ander and Brath. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  Tyber swallowed, his mouth dry and icky. Hopefully there was still a waterskin in the saddlebag. He started forward.

  “You never had any intention of helping Gurvi, did you?” Halton asked, his voice low.

  “I gave you a box of dragon salve.”

  Halton’s posture shifted, growing more stiff.

  “It’s good stuff. I’ve used it before. I know it works. And I didn’t make it,” Tyber said.

  “You’re not a dragon healer, are you?”

  “I never claimed to be.”

  “You raised my hopes,” Halton said. “You got them up. You said you could help Gurvi.”

  “It sure looks like that’s not going to happen now. But not because I don’t want to help.”

  “Like you helped Pendro?”

  Tyber drew a deep breath. The stench of the diseased dragon lingered even though her body was no longer in the makeshift weyr.

  “I didn’t kill her. You know that.”

  “You didn’t save her, either.”

  “Only Sirvon could have done that.”

  Halton’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together. He drew the lantern closer to his face and blew a puff of air into the chimney. The flame sputtered and went out.

  “He was the dragoneer,” Tyber said, his voice low. “It’s his job to look after the dragons.”

  Halton stared at Tyber. “They’re all sick.”

  Tyber’s heart raced as he pictured the leaking lesions over the brilliant blue scales of Rius.

  “What’s Ander going to do about it?” Halton asked. “If it’s the dragoneer’s responsibility, then how’s he going to fix it?”

  They stepped out into the bright daylight.

  “Depends,” Tyber said. His face hurt even more from trying to speak while squinting and grimacing against the light.

  “On what?”

  Tyber scratched gently at an itch along the side of his nose, and the motion sent a throbbing through the flesh of his right palm. Flying would not be an easy task.

  “You,” Tyber said. “It depends on you.”

  “Me?” Halton asked, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “You just said it was the dragoneer’s responsibility to take care of this.”

  “There’s no dragoneer without a horde. He can’t fix things without your support. Without the support of all the riders.

  “That’s a crying shame,” Halton said. “We’re all doomed, then.”

  As Ander tied himself into Verana’s saddle, Rius stared at Tyber with a familiar look of anticipation. The dragoneer had mounted the alpha. It was time to fly, time to take the sky. She flexed her wings, and the white dots along the trailing edges flashed into view and disappeared as if the gods were taking a peek at Tyber and the unfolding events despite the blinding rays of the sun.

  Leaving Halton behind, Tyber climbed into Rius’ saddle and tied himself down the best he could while favoring his hand. After Brath reminded them that they’d have arrows ready for them at the first sign of trouble, Ander sent Verana into the sky. Rius followed suit, and the rest of the horde lifted in a chaotic formation.

  Tyber gritted his teeth as he clutched the saddle lip. He looked over his shoulder. As the other dragons took up a V formation behind Verana, a strange longing filled Tyber. Though several riders glared at him and Ander with bows drawn and arrows notched, it felt somehow normal to be back in formation, a horde of dragons rising
through the air. Like things used to be. Back in the academy.

  Ander and Verana flew at point, just off to Tyber’s right. Brath and Irvess rode on Ander’s right-hand side, as if he were still the commander of the horde. Brath glanced at Tyber, and his face grew hard, full of meanness.

  Verana leveled off. Rius and the others followed suit. Tyber took his right hand from the saddle lip and rested it against the top of his thigh. He stared at the empty hook on Rius’ saddle where his bow ought to be, and then he looked to the right side where the quiver should hang.

  It felt naked as if he were half dressed.

  He was no hordesman at all.

  When they cleared the small patch of trees on the other side of Iangan, there was Ren, sitting in Maybelle’s saddle, staring up. He watched as the dragons circled once, then landed in the tall grass. The dragonjacks drew back their bowstrings and took aim at Ren.

  He raised his hands.

  “Toss your bow aside,” Brath yelled at Ren. “Then untie your quiver.”

  Ren stared at Ander.

  “Do it, Ren,” Ander called.

  Ren lifted his chin. He gripped the lip of Maybelle’s saddle. “You sure about that? I got a fresh dragon. Maybelle is fast. I can beat any of these guys in a race, especially on their sorry dragons. I still have time to go for reinforcements.”

  Brath drew back his bowstring. “There’s no outflying my arrow. You want to live to see tomorrow, you’ll do as I say.”

  “As you say?” Ren asked. “I take my orders from Ander.”

  “Ren, we need to earn their trust. We are going to work together on this. It looks like I’m the dragoneer of this whole horde now.”

  “What?” Ren asked. “Yeah. It shows. With all the bows and arrows and everything.”

  “Pendro died. Verana took the horde. I am the dragoneer. We are going to work with Sirvon now. This is a pretty good opportunity, actually. It looks like we found some steady work.”

  Ren cocked an eyebrow. “Usually work done at arrow-point doesn’t pay well. And what happened to Tyber’s face? Is that on-the-job training?”

  “There was a misunderstanding,” Ander said. “Come with us. We’re going back to the weyr.”

  “To get killed?” Ren asked. “No thanks. I’d rather take my chances in the air.”

  “Ren!” Ander called.

  Brath turned his arrow on Ander.

  “Ander!” Tyber shouted.

  Brath whipped the tip of his arrow to Tyber.

  “Brath!” Ander shouted. “Put it down!”

  Brath swung the arrow back to Ander. “Tell him to toss that bow and drop that quiver. And you watch your tone with me! I don’t know who you think you are, but I don’t need you! Sirvon might be a fool under your spell, but I can command this horde as good as you. Better than you! I don’t need sorcery.”

  Ander slowly turned his attention back to Ren, who had plucked up his bow. “Listen to me. Dragoneer to rider. Drop your bow. That’s an order. Now.”

  Ren studied him a second longer, then looked at Tyber, who nodded slightly.

  Ren’s shoulders lifted with a deep breath. He tossed the bow forward. It landed in the grass between himself and Verana. He leaned forward, yanked on a leather cord, and the quiver dropped away from the gusset of Maybelle’s saddle.

  “Go get it,” Brath said to a young dragonjack sitting on a deep maroon dragon.

  “Here’s the deal,” Brath began as the man ran out to retrieve the weapons. “We are going to fly—”

  “I don’t need you to speak for me,” Ander said as he whipped around in the saddle. His expression was hidden from Tyber, who could only see the back of his head and a sliver of his profile.

  “I don’t care what you need,” Brath said.

  “I am the dragoneer of this horde. I will speak for it.”

  Brath pointed his arrow at Ander. “Only if I allow.”

  “If you truly could speak for the horde, then Irvess would be alpha now, and not Verana.”

  “Nothing more than sorcery has allowed you to take the horde. You’re no dragoneer,” Brath went on. “And I’m ready to run you through with this arrow to prove it.”

  Tyber’s grip tightened on the saddle lip. His legs tensed against Rius’ shoulders. If Brath dared, then hopefully Ander would live long enough to allow Rius to tear Brath’s head from his shoulders before the hold on the horde broke.

  “If you truly believe that you and Irvess can take the horde, then do it,” Ander said. “A man full of empty boasts is worse than a silent fool.”

  Brath held the arrow steady on Ander.

  “It takes a will of iron,” Ander went on. “But you know that. You’ve seen it in Sirvon. Do you have what it takes? Can you concentrate all of your efforts on controlling your mount? Can you take your mind off the pain in your back long enough to dominate your dragon?”

  Brath’s jaw tensed. His back followed, his shoulders drawing back, his eyes squinting slightly, growing tighter as if the mere mention of his back pain was enough to make it worse.

  “Sirvon wants you alive. That’s the only reason I’m holding onto this bowstring,” Brath said, and the tension eased from his bow, but he did not lower the tip of his arrow. “But you give me one reason to kill you, and I will without a second thought.”

  Ander looked back to Ren. “We are going to fly back to their weyr. As you can see, we are a single horde now. You will respect your place in such a horde.”

  Ren sneered. “And Brath is our commander?”

  “For now,” Brath called over his arrow. “The next few moments at least.”

  “You have your orders,” Ander went on. “You will take up formation. Fly behind Rius. Is that clear?”

  Ren looked to Tyber for a second, then back to Ander. He nodded.

  “Good,” Ander said, then looked across the rest of his horde. “Let’s be off, then.”

  Without waiting for Brath to stow his bow and arrow, Ander sent Verana rocking back onto her hindquarters, wings spreading, and then she shoved them into the sky. While the others looked at Brath, Tyber repeated the dragoneer’s orders to Rius, and up she went. Maybelle followed a few seconds later, and then the rest of the dragonjacks scrambled to catch up, falling into a pitiful formation.

  Chapter 17

  As the dragons set down outside the dragonjack weyr, the weyrboys gathered at the open doorway, but did not venture farther. They halted as if an invisible fence lay between them and the yard. They stared at Ander and the others. One lifted his hand to the corner of his mouth and chewed a dirty nail. Another looked back into the darkness.

  Someone apparently lifted the invisible gate, Sirvon most likely, and the boys ran out. They scrambled for the cords of the dragonjacks while avoiding Verana, Rius, and Maybelle.

  It was just as well. Tyber started to undo his restraints as Ander slid from the saddle and landed in a crouch. He marched over to Irvess as Brath climbed down the stirrups.

  Tyber’s eyes widened. His hands swept the restraints away, and he started to swing his leg over, but then stopped. He had no better weapon than the one he sat on.

  “Brath,” Ander barked as the man stepped onto the hard-packed ground.

  As soon as the commander turned around, Ander let loose with his fist, driving it into Brath’s face. Brath’s head snapped back. He stumbled into the shoulder of Irvess, who shifted away. Ander swept his foot under Brath and kicked his legs out from under him. He fell hard onto his right buttock, then tossed his head back in a cry as he clutched his back.

  Across the horde, bows were drawn and arrows notched. Tyber gripped the saddle lip again, ready.

  “You will not speak to your dragoneer in such a manner again, or I will find someone more capable to be commander. I cannot afford to have you causing dissention in the ranks. Dragons don’t operate that way, and neither do I.”

  “Well,” Sirvon said as he emerged from the shadows of the weyr. “I see that you completed your first mission.”<
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  Ander, his fists still clutched at his side, turned slowly to Sirvon. “I don’t know how you got anything done with this sorry crew.”

  Sirvon smiled. Laughter appeared to bubble beneath his expression and then faded away. “You work with what you’ve got. I have to admit, I am quite surprised you returned, Ander. I was certain that I wouldn’t see any of you again.”

  “I am the dragoneer,” Ander said. “It is my duty to command.”

  Sirvon’s smile broadened a bit with surprise. He looked at Ren and Maybelle. “And you have this one under your command then, I take it.”

  “Always have. And Brath will come around, too. Even if I have to beat it through his thick skull.”

  Brath grasped the stirrup of Irvess’ saddle and used it to start slowly pulling himself up.

  “Good,” Sirvon said with a nod. “You have passed your first test.”

  He turned to the others. “Now, I want you to restrain these three and put them in the back of the weyr.”

  Bowstrings creaked.

  Brath pulled himself back to his feet, then started for Ander.

  “Brath,” Sirvon snapped.

  The commander stopped, but did not take his eyes from Ander.

  “You will come to the house with me. After you dust yourself off, of course.”

  Brath glared at Ander a moment more, then started for the larger of the cottages.

  “Get off that dragon,” Halton said.

  Tyber looked down to find the young man aiming an arrow at him.

  “Oh!” Sirvon called over his shoulder. “And do be sure to put Verana in the place of honor. She is the alpha now.”

  Tyber slowly got down from the saddle, and after a glance at Ander, he let one of the dragonjacks bind his wrists behind his back with a length of twine.

  Once the three of them were led to the back of the weyr and placed along the wall, the others began to care for the dragons, leading them into the cramped space and pulling off tack and stowing it in crates or trunks. The dragons didn’t have proper stalls, except for Verana. They were lined up against the wall and left there to stand while they were brushed, or their lesions cleaned and covered with fresh dabs of dragon salve.