Dragon Airways

by Brian Rathbone

  * * *

  Slowly the dragon's body relaxed, and her wings opened, revealing the treasure she'd been protecting. Emmet sucked in a deep breath when he saw the first shiny, metallic egg within her final embrace. Keldon scouted ahead to make sure the mighty serpent did not return, and Barabas was no longer fully aware of his surroundings. Emmet shared his sorrow. Feelings and emotions that had been abstracted for so long washed over him. All he could do was stare and concentrate on breathing. Farther Dashiq's wings drew open, and the true magnitude of her gift became clear. Twenty-four eggs huddled together, gleaming with life. Dashiq was gone, but her legacy remained.

  "By the gods!" Keldon said.

  Barabas looked up then. Despair turned to shock and realization. Emmet could not say what emotions the old man experienced, but he himself had never felt so strongly or deeply. The pain made him ache. Joy and grief merged into a strange soup that manifested in tears and sobs.

  A not-so-distant roar brought the group to attention.

  "We need to get out of here," Keldon said. "Now."

  No one argued, but some things were too precious to leave behind. With speed born of need, Barabas and Keldon removed the saddle from Dashiq and began loading the eggs into the saddlebags. Reaching out, Emmet grabbed an egg and held it to his chest. Within, something stirred, and the egg jumped in his embrace, tapping him on the breastbone. Again Emmet felt pain, and again he was changed. He had been chosen.

  Barabas cast him a quick glance, as if ready to ask the boy to help, but instead his look softened. With a sigh, he lifted Emmet into the saddle. Holding the egg to his chest, Emmet was thankful for Barabas and Keldon; the two men carried the saddle, and thus him, over their heads the entire way back to the campsite. Berigor issued a low whine at seeing the saddle then cooed when he saw the egg in Emmet's arms. The dragon sensed the rest of the eggs and snuffled around the saddlebags. His trumpeting call was unexpected. Emmet hoped it didn't draw the sea serpent back. The creature had been majestic and beautiful but terrifying. When the egg shifted in his grip, Emmet's imagination ran wild.

  Barabas and Keldon hastily modified the arrangements of straps used to secure the ancient saddle to make it fit behind the one Berigor already wore. The bull dragon now put his weight on both legs and appeared to be feeling a good bit better. Emmet's heart hurt so badly, he didn't think anything could take the pain away.

  Once again, Barabas put Emmet in the saddle and strapped him in. Neither man said anything about the egg Emmet clutched. He was thankful. Barabas did give the boy an extra blanket, which he used to wrap the egg and keep it both warm and safe. When he saw Barabas wrapping the other eggs tightly and packing them around where he would sit, he smiled. Keldon did the same then packed the area around where Emmet sat. Life force pulsed in the eggs, and he loved them all, but Emmet kept that first egg closest.

  Golegeth.

  The name came like a scent on a breeze, transient yet inescapable. Emmet smiled. His life would never be the same. Every day from there forward was a new kind of gift in a new kind of world. No longer would the same old patterns prevail or the same feelings define him.

  "She gave me a gift," Emmet said. "She changed me."

  Barabas turned to look at him, and then nodded with a grunt of affirmation.

  "Thank you for everything you've done for me—and Riette—and everybody."

  Barabas grunted again.

  "Can we save them now?"

  This question made Keldon turn as well. Barabas nodded. "If they can be saved, then we'll save them. If not, we'll avenge them."

  The man had not lied to him. He'd not tried to pretend Riette might not already be dead. He did not assume Emmet was stupid or daft or incapable of understanding the world around him. This was going to take some getting used to.

  "I have a gift for you, for what they are worth," Keldon said to Emmet. He reached for the pocket holding the two cache stones within their wooden box. Emmet knew exactly where they were and that the energy in them had been largely—but not entirely—depleted. He accepted them with a grateful bow and slipped the box into the hem of his coat.

  Keldon and Barabas mounted, and Berigor leaped into the air from a standstill. It was something Dashiq had struggled to do, especially when bearing a heavy load, but the much younger dragon now did it with ease. The restorative power of this place was like nowhere else, and Emmet, in many ways, was loath to leave. But staying here would not save his sister or Tuck.

  Power coursed through Berigor, and the mighty dragon allowed himself full access for the first time. Before he'd been wounded and somewhat tentative. Now he was on the mend, and his confidence grew with every passing moment. Energy washed over Emmet like a lullaby. Holding Golegeth tightly to his chest, he slept, dreaming of a new kind of dragon unlike any to have come before. Already he knew Golegeth and his brethren would be different. Emmet could relate.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  At first Emmet thought he imagined it, but then it happened again.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Emotions flowed from the egg he held—insistence, impatience, and perseverance were all overshadowed by gnawing hunger. Emmet found himself reaching for the rations Keldon had provided.

  Crack.

  A tiny jaw bearing razor-sharp teeth protruded through a gap in the shell. Legs pushed at the shell, forcing the crack to expand and the shell to open. A long neck uncoiled, followed by what looked like fresh-grown leaves. They unfolded into webbed wings. When front and hind legs emerged from the shell, Emmet drew a sharp breath; no longer were there any questions regarding Golegeth's lineage. Berigor trumpeted, somehow sensing the new arrival, but he did not slow. Emmet thought the large dragon might actually have sped up a bit. Barabas and Keldon turned back in time to see Golegeth fully spread his wings for the first time. Rushing air caught the wing membranes, and the tiny dragon was whipped out into open air. He did not flap his wings or glide; instead he fell like a brick. When he struck the water, Barabas, Keldon, and Emmet all jumped. Berigor did not overtly react, but he did slow a little.

  Bursting from the water a moment later, Golegeth flapped his wings and hauled a fish just smaller than himself from the water. Berigor dipped lower, and Golegeth returned to Emmet's lap. On his way, he called out, sounding almost as if he scolded the larger dragon. Berigor appeared to take no offense, though he did speed back up once the baby dragon was safely within the saddle. Looking pleased with himself, Golegeth devoured the fish. It was a messy and noisy process, and Emmet tried to convince the dragon to eat somewhere other than in his lap, but there weren't many other places to offer except the empty seat behind them. Either way, the dragon did not take him up on any of his suggestions.

  Five more trips he made to the sea below, each time returning with a different kind of fish. After the fifth, he lay distended and exhausted. The boy took the blanket that had been in his lap and stuffed it in the seat behind him. While Golegeth slept, Emmet considered the rest of the eggs, all of which were showing signs of life. What would happen when the rest hatched? Panic set in. He would be covered in fish. Golegeth burped, adjusted himself, and went back to sleep.

  Berigor either took them ever faster for the fun of it, or he, too, sensed the hatchlings' impending arrival. Emmet suspected it was both. The mighty dragon reveled in his newfound power, the might of the ancients at his disposal. No longer was he a dragon missing an eye; now he was practically Azzakkan reborn—and he knew it. He was the very thing Argus Kind had sought to prevent.

  Golegeth's early existence consisted of fishing and sleeping. Never had Emmet known such a voracious creature, and never had he seen a beast grow so quickly. He could almost see the great oaf growing larger while he watched. Berigor maintained a grueling pace and made no stops. Only when Golegeth fished did he slow. When the Midlands shoreline came into view, it felt too soon, as if they had somehow skipped part of the journey. Seeing the edges of the Jaga swamp, it was apparent they were far east of Sparrowport but still on the
western side of the swamp. To the north would be Dragonport.

  Berigor did not slow. Those who lived in the few settlements they passed along the way cried out and pointed to the skies at the sight of them. Around Emmet, life stirred. Golegeth slept, but the eggs grew restless, as if sensing something. When Dragonport finally came into view, movement within the eggs had grown feverish and insistent. Emmet was tempted to help the baby dragons escape the shells that bound them, but somehow he knew they wanted to be left alone. It was a rite of passage. Such a thing should not be taken away.

  People in Dragonport scrambled when Berigor was spotted, and many lined the airstrip where he landed. A few aircraft were in various states of restoration, but no other flying ships could be seen. Finny approached from the crowd and might have said something. Emmet would never know.

  Crack. Crack. Crack.

  Golegeth was annoyed at being awoken and flew from the saddle. People cried out on seeing him, and he turned a wide circle overhead before making his way to the cliffs. Once over the edge, he dropped from sight like a missile.

  Crack. Crack. Crack.

  All around Emmet, dragons clawed their ways out of shells. Barabas and Keldon, too, were surrounded by hatching eggs. Wings spread. New voices called out to the world. Baby dragons filled the air. The people of Dragonport stood with their mouths agape. Despite the name, their home had not hosted dragons for centuries. Long had the Heights been the place of dragons, and only when the trade fleets came did the people ever see the majestic creatures. Now strange, four-legged dragons flew among them. Some knocked down children and sat on their chests. Another coiled around a middle-aged mother of two's neck and hissed at anyone who came close. The woman looked ready to faint. The people of Dragonport were hearty and brave, though, and did not scare easily—not even the young. Twenty-three hatchlings claimed people. Most were left in complete confusion when the dragons flew to the cliffs and dropped from view. Children ran to the ledge, adults rushing after, warning them to be careful.

  "They're fishing," Emmet shouted. "You might want to get a towel or something."

  Not everyone took his meaning, but quite a few made a run for linens before the dragons returned. When they did, chaos ensued.

  Barabas and Keldon counseled those bonded to dragons and their families. People's lives had quite suddenly, unexpectedly, and irrevocably changed. Children reveled in their newfound friends, and even those approaching middle age found themselves with dragons eating, sleeping, or preening on their laps or shoulders.

  In the following days, Emmet did his best to help others, but nothing mattered more to him in that moment than a saddle. In spite of the changes in him, people still assumed he did not listen to what was said around him, but Emmet had keen ears. Preparations were being made, and the message was clear: Emmet would be left behind. He understood children were not actively used for acts of war, but he no longer felt like a child. He'd already proven himself valuable and capable, even if in the body of a nine-year-old. The people of Dragonport, for their part, had been generous and kind—especially those now bonded to dragons. They looked to Emmet for guidance and understanding. It was a totally new experience for him, and he liked it. Golegeth was a matter of days older than the rest of the hatchlings, but that experience was invaluable for all those going through it for the first time. Even if they did not personally have the things he needed, they managed to find someone else who did. Leather, rawhide, awls, knives, and heavy needles all surrounded him now while he worked.

  Golegeth watched from nearby, napping with one eye half open. Emmet had not grown up in the house of a seamstress without learning to stitch, sew, mend, and fold. He'd watched his mother teach Riette all these things and lacked only the muscle memory of having performed the steps so many times, they became second nature. His mother had been able to stitch a quilt, tell Riette what she was doing wrong, and watch Emmet at the same time. He felt a connection with her while he worked and took pride in what he created.

  Having no idea how big Golegeth would get—a thought that terrified him—he designed a saddle capable of growing with the dragon. Taking a cue from the Drakon, he created a saddle that would wrap all the way around Golegeth at first then later expand along with his girth. After that, he would just need longer and longer straps. Keeping this in mind, he filled one saddlebag with long strips of leather and buckles.

  Finny checked on him often and offered to help if he could. Looking over his handiwork, Emmet decided to take the man up on his offer. After showing him how he wanted the straps routed, Emmet asked Finny to lift the saddle into place. Golegeth wasn't sure about the whole thing. Emmet had fashioned a halter and lines, which Golegeth already wore, that would at least give Emmet something to hold on to while flying. Finny held the lines while Emmet secured the girths. Donning his new flying hat, goggles, gloves, and scarf, he was thankful for the generosity of the people in Dragonport.

  "You're not planning to go anywhere, are you?" Finny asked.

  "No," Emmet said. "I just want to make sure the stirrups are at the right height." It was the truth. The urge to fly was great, the desire to rescue his sister and Tuck even greater, but he was not yet ready. Every hour that passed was a reminder they were still lost to him. He tried not to think about what being prisoners must be like, but his imagination would not relent. Only the stitching soothed him. It gave him something to work toward. Soon he would fly.

  "You're needed here," Barabas said. Emmet hadn't even been aware the man was beside him. "Flying off to the Firstland and getting killed will do no one any good."

  Emmet nodded. He'd heard it before. He understood. People could think what they would of his saddle and his intentions. Eventually those bonded to dragons would all need saddles, and he was just ahead of the game. Deep down, he did want to fly straight to the Firstland and confront Argus Kind and the Al'Zjhon. It wasn't right for someone else to go and do that for him. He felt a deep and personal need to tell these people what he thought of them, but even more, he wanted his sister back. She would be so proud of him and what he'd done—what he'd become. Things between them would never be the same, and that made him smile. He'd been a deciding factor in her life for far too long. Now he had found his purpose. Most waited until of marrying age before striking out on their own, but most did not have a dragon and a saddle and the ability to sense—and use—magic.

  The last part was unreal to him still, but it was a part of him, deeply ingrained within his existence. Magic was not a learned skill; it was a state of being. It connected him more closely to the world around him, and if he were truly honest with himself, he could not resist the lure of so much magic gathered in one place. The thoughts shamed him, but he did not have full control over what popped into his head. He could influence the direction of thought, but the yearning for magic was unrelenting. His skin itched for it.

  Flying with Golegeth would be amazing when the time came. Most people agreed riding him too soon could potentially cause problems in his development. Given the dragon's rapid growth, Emmet understood their concerns over soft bone structures and ligaments. Those thoughts in mind, he began unstrapping the saddle. Immediately Golegeth became agitated and flapped his wings in Finny's face. To his credit, the man held on to the lines. Using his closed mouth, Golegeth struck Finny in the chest, and the man let go. Barabas reached out to grab hold of the lines, but the dragon was quick. Turning toward daylight, he fled the shelter, Emmet on his back. The lines flew freely, smacking the dragon, which frightened him into running faster, which made the lines hit harder and more often. All Emmet could do was hold on. Bursting into the open, Golegeth took flight. Emmet had flown on dragons before but nothing like this. He had no idea what Golegeth would do. If he decided to go fishing, Emmet would be in real trouble.

  The dragon did not fly toward the sea, though. Stretching his wings, Golegeth flew east, toward the Firstland. From behind, Barabas shouted. Perhaps unaware of the dangers, Golegeth flew over the twisted Jaga swamp, givi
ng Emmet a view of just how corrupted the place really was. Deeper into the vast wilderness, movement was everywhere. Patches of the swamp escaped its fetid embrace, springing into the air. Dragons. Wild and free, these creatures were nothing like Berigor or Golegeth. These dragons gleamed like black snakes with fearsome beauty all their own. Reflecting the light, they were sometimes blue or green, depending on the angle.

  Higher the beasts climbed, and Golegeth gained speed, now aware of the danger. Emmet's dragon was young and inexperienced; he hoped it didn't cost them both their lives. Despite his smaller stature, Golegeth proved himself a capable flier and dodged swamp dragons' advances, which seemed more curious than anything. Still, the swamp itself reached out to Emmet with magic of its own—ancient magic, steeped in anger and hatred. The closer they came to the center of the great swamp, the stronger the sensation grew, and Emmet did everything he could to convince Golegeth to change course. Still flying unerringly to the east, the dragon must have had some destination in mind. Eventually Emmet managed to grab the lines. Using them and his knees, he expressed his desires to the dragon. While Golegeth did not turn around, he did angle to the north. Swamp dragons swooped past them, drawing ever closer, as if testing Golegeth and Emmet to see if they were dangerous. To Emmet's relief, the much larger dragons soon lost interest and returned to whatever it was they had been doing.

  Along the northern edge of the swamp, the corruption was less evident, and the place began to appear almost natural. The smell of brine was a welcome change from the foul emissions emanating from the morass below. Emmet had never liked the smell of the coastline, but it was a spring breeze in comparison. This, at least, was part of the natural order, whereas the swamp had been twisted and subverted by some unknown force. Emmet was glad to leave it behind.

  Golegeth largely ignored his input and flew over the waters just off the northern coast, still heading generally eastward. Their speed was greater than Emmet would have expected given his previous experiences adragonback, and they passed the towering peaks of the Heights before the sun dipped below the horizon. The place looked magical against the backdrop of the sunset, the skies cast with oranges and blues. No dragons flew out to meet them, and no armies camped below. It was as if the war had never taken place. The ships, too, were gone, and Emmet basked in the peaceful beauty. It helped keep his mind from the future and where they might be going. If the dragon had read his mind and his desires, then they were destined for perhaps the most dangerous place in the world. The only thing that conquered his fear was the desire to rescue his sister and Tuck—or avenge them. With every fiber of his being, he hoped it would be the former.

  No matter how brave he tried to be, he was but one little boy in the face of an evil madman and what remained of his armies. What chance did he have of succeeding where so many had failed? Magic. It was the thing that separated him from the rest. Magic called to Emmet even across the great expanse of the Endless Sea. Perhaps it was a misnomer since he'd seen the lands across the sea, but it did feel endless, and that must have been enough for those who'd named it.

  The world had changed even since Emmet's birth, and distance was not what it had once been. Planes, airships, and even steam-propelled sea vessels crossed vast distances previously impossible. So much change in such a short time made the world a dangerous place. Nothing was certain, permanence itself an illusion. Sparrowport had been the entire world to him for most of his life, and now it was gone, a pile of rubble and a few cannons in its place. The thoughts made Emmet feel small and afraid.

  Golegeth trumpeted as if in response to his rider's morose thoughts. The dragon experienced no fear. Through the physical bond, Emmet sensed his dragon's state of mind, if not his thoughts, and he suspected Golegeth could do the same in return. Up until that point in his life, Riette had been the only one capable of reading him in such a way. Thoughts of her brought tears to his eyes. She was the only family he had left, and he loved her more than anything else in the world. Knowing she might already be dead made his heart ache.

  Only Golegeth's and Barabas's caring for him gave him any consolation in that moment, and when Berigor trumpeted from behind, Emmet smiled. Beneath clear, star-filled skies, the older dragon came like a meteor, streaking through the sky with thunder and fire.

  "Hold on!" Keldon shouted.

  Emmet did as he was told. Golegeth cried out like a petulant child deprived of getting his way. Berigor bore down on them, his mighty claws clamping around them, gentle yet inescapable. Golegeth bit the larger dragon, not hard enough to do any damage, but with enough force to make his displeasure known. Dragons were strong-willed creatures and did not respond well to having their freedom taken away.

  Emmet half expected the larger dragon to turn and take them back to Dragonport, but instead Berigor continued speeding east. When islands became visible below as pools of darkness amid the shining waves, they circled lower. To the south, Emmet saw something he'd never seen before. Like an errant star, a ball of light rivaled the moonlight and blotted out the stars. Behind it stretched a sparkling tail that shone a myriad of color. Everyone had heard the legends of comets, and Emmet couldn't help but wonder if the goddess had returned early. Perhaps he was the one foretold by legend as the Herald of Istra. His access to magic lent credence to the notion, but it would mean the tales were off by thousands of years.

  When he concentrated on it, the comet called to him more strongly than the magical items on the Firstland. This was no ancient artifact holding remnants from the last age of power; this was the very source of magic itself. It was so beautiful, it brought tears of joy, his heart swelling with the feeling of it. He also suspected the saddle and other artifacts exposed to the light absorbed the magic. Closing his eyes, he wished for the rest of the comets to come, the fabled storm to return and flood his world with the magic he craved. Something told him it would not, that this was the only comet that would come in his lifetime, which pained him deeply. It teased him and would soon be gone. It was the nature of comets to disappear for eons. Part of him wanted Golegeth to fly into the night sky and capture the celestial beacon, to keep it from fleeing back into the vast darkness from which it had come. Golegeth was not in control of their path, though, and Berigor continued toward the islands below. Just before he landed, he released Golegeth and roared at the younger dragon. For the moment cowed, Golegeth did as the larger dragon instructed; he landed.

  Moments later, Barabas was at his side. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

  Emmet shook his head but did not speak. His mind raced with so many possibilities, and he could not find the words to express his thoughts. So many ideas and notions rattled in his mind, he wasn't certain exactly what he thought or wanted. He had always done what others had asked of him, at least to the best of his ability. Now he wanted to chase his own desires but was unsure how to go about it. No matter what he did, he had to depend on others who had needs and desires of their own. Even Golegeth was a free creature who did as he pleased.

  Berigor roared at the smaller dragon again, hurting Emmet's ears, and Golegeth had the good sense to appear remorseful.

  "Dragons," Barabas said, shaking his head. "It's a wonder they haven't been the death of us all."

  "Sometimes I wonder if they don't have plans of their own," Keldon said, "and we're just along for the ride."

  Barabas chuckled at this, and the tension in the air lessened. After helping Emmet unstrap, he lifted the boy from the saddle and placed him on the rocky shoreline. On unsteady legs, Emmet tried to get his balance. So much time in the saddle made the land's firmness seem strange and foreign, but it did not take long for normality to return.

  "What are we going to do with you?" Barabas asked no one in particular and none answered. Keldon gathered wood and lit a fire, and the group sat around the flames in silence. Golegeth leaped into the air, making Emmet fear the dragon would abandon him and continue to the east, but he returned moments later carrying a fish not much smaller than himself. Berigor, too, fis
hed, but he also brought fish for his human companions. Keldon used a stick to dig a hole in the glowing coals and placed the fish inside. Sizzling and popping, the fish issued a cloud of steam when Keldon raked coals over it. It did not take long to cook, and Emmet soon realized how hungry he was. The more the excitement faded, the deeper his hunger grew. When Keldon uncovered the fish and pulled it from the hot coals, an alluring aroma filled the air.

  Beneath the ash-coated scales waited delicate white meat more delicious than anything Emmet could remember. He and the others ate their fill, and soon, beneath the light of a single, magical comet, sleep claimed them.