* * *
"Do not scold me," General Katch said.
Al'Drakon stared back, implacable. "Then do not do so to me. We've both done what we thought was right." Silence was agreement enough. "I don't like Barabas DeGuiere, but he may have at last done his duty. While it does not forgive his past crimes, I must acknowledge what he's done."
"It's not enough," the general said. "Even if we send our full strength, that little bit of magic will not be enough to conquer someone who's been stockpiling artifacts for years."
"Stockpiling," Al'Drakon said. "All that magic in one place. All we would need is a trigger . . . and to know where exactly the stockpiles are."
"You can't think to take the child into battle!"
"The kid dies either way. My way is just faster," Al'Drakon said. "You think me harsh and crass, but which is better, to leave the boy to starve or to give him a chance at being the greatest hero his people have ever known?"
General Katch rubbed his temples. His life had been reduced to impossible choices. Almost every path led to utter chaos and destruction. No one would win this war. Argus Kind failed to see he was destroying the things he coveted. By conquering the Heights and the Midlands and even all the Jaga, for what the swamp was worth, he rendered it a shell of its former self. Such a waste.
The Midlands were indefensible from naval air strikes. It was a painful truth that gave the general shivers. Never had he thought Zjhon aircraft capable of reaching the Mids, let alone being able to refuel and return. Once they took over the western airfields, only the Heights would remain free, and they were already prisoners within the hollowed mountains.
"What other choice do we have?" asked Al'Drakon.
"I don't like it," the general reiterated.
"I don't like any of this, but if there's even a fraction of a chance we can win this war, then I'm acting on it."
"I won't stand in your way," the general said with a deep sigh.
"That's all the help I need."
"I know," General Katch said. He watched the dragon rider go with deep resignation and overwhelming regret. He was a better man than this. They were better people. But desperate people did things of which they would never have dreamed themselves capable.
Even if the man were correct and succeeded in his audacious plan, it would hardly secure victory. The Zjhon had used very little magic in the war—a war they were clearly winning. If the Drakon failed to destroy all the magic, would the executioner-made-king lash out with every weapon remaining to him? It was a frightening thought. Without the Drakon, the Heights would fall more quickly. After that, not much mattered.
With few choices remaining, General Katch grimly orchestrated final defenses.
Dragon Airways Page 25
