* * *
Emmet Pickette was afraid. He was just a boy, and one only recently synchronized with the rest of reality. Always before, Riette had looked after him. She'd taken all responsibility for their lives. He'd wanted to participate but had been prevented by the severity of his former condition. He was free now. The world was wide open, and with Golegeth, no place was too far. It was exhilarating and terrifying. Having Barabas with him bolstered his confidence. The man could have gone anywhere, could have done anything, and yet he'd chosen to remain with Emmet and Golegeth.
The tierre had been constructed by the people of Sparrowport. Everyone had contributed something. The memory misted his eyes. The construction was simple but sturdy and of high quality. Nails, straps, and other fasteners made by Brick and Joren mated sewn leather Riette had stitched. They had even included a flap, which allowed Emmet to reach down and have physical contact with Golegeth. It was something he missed from flying with Dashiq. Flying with his own dragon was not better or worse, but it was different. Sitting in the tierre was more like being in Dashiq's carriage, only sturdier and larger. Pulleys and tensioners at the front of the structure kept the lines from binding or going slack with the movements of the dragon's head. The lines did not control Golegeth in the way magic lines had controlled Argus Kind's dragon, but they did allow Emmet to convey his intentions to his enormous friend.
Golegeth still did not know his size and often acted like a mere hatchling. It had taken a great deal of effort to break him of the habit of eating in Emmet's lap. There were times, though, when he did exactly as Emmet asked, and he seemed to understand when he could get away with misbehaving. Dashiq had taken control of events on numerous occasions, which colored some of Emmet's fears. What if the dragon decided to go somewhere he didn't want to go? It was an uncomfortable feeling, even if Golegeth was currently behaving himself and following Emmet's input.
Barabas helped. He understood the landscape and showed Emmet how to use maps, landmarks, and even the stars to navigate. When Dragonport came into view, the sight was distressing. The port through which most Midlands trade came was in complete chaos. The detritus of war had been cleared away, but twenty-three dragons perched upon rooftops and milled about in seeming disarray. There was no clear spot to land. Only when horns sounded, announcing Golegeth's arrival, did some sense of order prevail. The skies above Dragonport erupted with dragons not much smaller than Golegeth. Emmet's dragon had grown quickly, perhaps because of need. His clutchmates, who were collectively and lovingly known as Dashiq's Revenge, were all just a little bit behind him developmentally. It was among the reasons they had come here first. If not for the other dragons and their chosen, he would have gone back to the shallows—perhaps permanently. It was tempting but it didn't feel right when he could possibly help so many people. Barabas was a wealth of information with regard to rearing dragons, and the word from Dragonport was that they needed all the help they could get. The thought that someone might need Barabas more than he did also gnawed at his resolve.
He was Emmet Pickette, war hero, magic user, and dragon rider. He'd always dreamed of finding magic, but the other parts were still difficult to believe. Should not someone who'd achieved such things have also left fear behind? Apparently not. The dragons approaching only added to his concerns. There was no order, no collective will. Dragons whipped past them, roaring in greeting. Screams grew louder then faded when a dragon flew past, his chosen dangling from one claw. Emmet shouldn't have laughed. Even Barabas had difficulty restraining his mirth. What were they getting themselves into?
More dragons streamed past, and two now flanked them, looking almost giddy to see their slightly older brother. Golegeth radiated excitement. When he turned back to look at them and roar, his pupils were wide and his nostrils flared. It was an uncomfortable feeling, being atop a dragon who was hurtling through the air and not watching where they were going. Golegeth proved he was in complete control and made Emmet's fears once again seem unfounded. It was a lot of change to adapt to all at once. Barabas must have sensed his unease and gave him a reassuring pat on the knee.
When Golegeth landed, he displayed inherent grace and innate skill. That did not mean his passengers disembarked without event, though. The other dragons landed all around, far closer together than seemed wise, and Golegeth turned in place to greet them. Dragons snuffled at the tierre, blowing Emmet's hair with excited bursts of breath. Without parents to guide them, these dragons had to learn how to be dragons mostly on their own and it showed. In the excitement, a storage building was knocked over, along with several clotheslines. The people of Dragonport took it in stride and set about cleaning up the mess. Already they had grown accustomed to the chaos, but Emmet wondered if he would ever do the same. Eventually Golegeth stood still long enough to allow Emmet and Barabas to climb down.
Finny came to greet them. "Thank the gods you're here!" Emmet couldn't help but laugh again. Finny took no offense but looked haggard. "It's like raising toddlers as tall as oak trees," he continued, gesticulating.
"You've done well, my friend," Barabas said. "Some things we must simply endure and see through."
"I'm not sure I can do it," Finny admitted. "I love Lodiarch, but I think she might be the death of me. Just yesterday she took me fishing. It's not as much fun as it sounds. Believe me."
Barabas didn't laugh but came close.
"You're the first ones here. Can I get you something warm to eat?"
Barabas appeared as if he might decline, and Emmet kicked him lightly in the shin.
"Say no more."
Before Finny returned with steaming fish pies, the horns sounded again. Dragons—including Golegeth—took to the sky. Emmet hoped the dragons would be careful and not damage the tierre, but he couldn't really do much about it. Even if they had thought to remove the tierre, it was unlikely the dragons would have made it easy for them. The air still sang of excitement, and Emmet found his own hands shaking when he accepted a fish pie. When he glanced back up, Berigor approached. Al'Drak was now smaller than all of Dashiq's get. These would be the largest dragons anyone alive had ever seen—legends in the flesh. So many of the old tales continued to prove themselves true, Emmet could only imagine what the future would hold.
Berigor did not share the younger dragons' enthusiasm, and his roar sent the others scattering to the wind. In the ensuing silence came diesel engines. Larger than any aircraft before it, the eight-engine plane had a wingspan larger than any dragon. This was a plane capable of flying from the Firstland to Sparrowport without ever refueling. News of its construction had reached them long before, but seeing such an impressive and historical engineering feat was an experience none would soon forget.
"Eat your pie before it gets cold," Barabas said.
Embarrassed for gaping like a fish, Emmet did as he was told and didn't regret it. The pie had reached the perfect temperature to be eaten without burning his tongue and the roof of his mouth and where the flavor was at its richest. This was not everyday fare. The people of Dragonport had prepared a reception fit for a king even if that was the very thing they sought to make sure was relegated to the past. If the people aboard the airplane upheld their promise, Argus Kind would be the last king.
Escorted by dragons, the plane slowed its approach and lined up with the landing strip. Only when the plane moved over the airstrip did the dragons veer off. They landed a moment later, giving the plane much wider berth, unsure what to make of it. When the delegation for the Firstland emerged, the people looked pale and afraid. Emmet understood their fears; he was still trying to quell a few of his own. No matter how Finny tried to reassure them the dragons were friendly, the Firstland delegation stayed huddled together, trying to appear regal and failing. Dragons snuffled around them and the plane.
"Just let them get a good whiff of you," Finny said. "Or they'll never leave you alone. They won't hurt you, but I definitely do not advise running away."
Berigor landed a moment later, and his
roar sent the younger dragons scattering. Golegeth hid behind Emmet. This was a battle dragon. There could be no doubt. He stood tall. His wings partly extended, he dared anyone to challenge him. He was Al'Drak and everyone knew it. Keldon sat, steely eyed in the saddle, looking as if he'd aged a decade since Emmet last saw him. The older dragon tilted his head and acknowledged Golegeth, who then danced around the older dragon with unrestrained glee, wiggling his hindquarters.
Keldon let the excited dragon get it out of his system before climbing down to greet Barabas and Emmet, who had moved closer. "It's good to see you, my friends."
"And you," Barabas said.
Emmet gave Keldon a hug that clearly made the man uncomfortable.
"Someone is going to have to teach these dragons some discipline," Keldon said with a look of disapproval.
"You're just the man for the job," Barabas said, and they both laughed.
"Are you sure you won't take the position back?" Keldon asked.
Barabas shook his head. "Not for all the gold in the Heights."
Though they joked, the toll the position had taken on Keldon was plain to see. His hair was graying rapidly, and the lines around his eyes had grown deeper.
"I've already tried to get the clutch moved to the Heights, but the dragons refuse to leave Dragonport. What use is it being Al'Drakon if no one listens?"
Chuckling, Barabas nodded. "What use indeed."
"You do agree that Drak are Drak regardless of their breeding, though, correct?"
Barabas had done his best to avoid involvement in politics—especially Drakon politics. "It is not my opinion that counts," he said after a long moment. "It is the opinions of those dragons and their bonded that are important. Without their hearts and minds, it will make no difference what words you use. In truth, if you win them over, it still won't matter what you call them."
"You are wiser than I ever gave you credit for."
Barabas nodded again. "Wisdom comes at a cost. Don't rush it. When at last people tell you that you're wise, you'll long to have back the innocence you lost. It can be a bitter reward. After all, ignorance can be fun, albeit dangerous at times."
"If you will aid me, perhaps I can have the benefit of both?" Keldon asked.
It took a long moment for Barabas to respond. "I will be your friend, Keldon. I can promise no more than that. If you find my counsel helpful at times, I'd welcome it, but I fear you'll have to forge your own path."
"I suppose we should greet our new allies," Keldon said. Barabas walked beside him in silent agreement. Emmet followed unbidden.
Golegeth watched with concerned interest. It was clear he did not trust these people. But then, the dragon did not really trust anyone other than Emmet and Barabas. It was something they would have to work on.
A bald man with a short white beard approached a place on the plateau that had been cleared, at his arm, a young woman. "I am Rodram. I stand for the people of the Firstland. This is my granddaughter Lienna. She will attend me if you will allow the indulgence. I'm not so weak that I cannot walk, but her presence brings me comfort."
"You are welcome here. I am Fineous Wermer, and I've been asked to speak on behalf of the Midlands."
"I am Keldon Tallowborn, Al'Drakon and representative of the Heights. I welcome you in peace."
Barabas said nothing but took Emmet's hand in his own. Pain and memory flowed between them. Barabas had lost everything he held dear to the war with Argus Kind and the Firstland. Dashiq was gone and they had hastened her demise. So many friends, fellow soldiers, and Drakon had been lost in a pointless war. No one had gained a thing. These were not easy things to let go, and tears streamed down the old warrior's cheeks.
"I see you, Barabas DeGuiere," Rodram said unexpectedly. "We all know who you are, how well you fought, and what you've lost. I won't claim to know your pain, but I will tell you that it hasn't been for naught. No more will our lands be divided by petty hatred." From within his robes he pulled a rolled parchment. A table and benches were brought to the clearing, and Rodram seated himself. "We have read the treaty you've proposed, and we find it not only acceptable but very gracious. We thank you for not punishing us for the actions of the one who has been deposed."
His unwillingness to even speak the name Argus Kind illustrated how he felt about the man, which suited Emmet just fine. He suspected those around him felt the same based on their reactions. Even the dragons were quiet and respectful, as if the solemn nature of this meeting were known to them. Golegeth watched intently while all three men signed multiple copies of the treaty and affixed their seals. Those assembled watched in silence. When the last seal had been pressed into glossy red wax, Berigor issued a trumpeting call. All at once the dragons took flight. How they managed not to collide and knock each other from the sky was a mystery, but they soon scattered. It was a sight that gave Emmet chills. Such majesty and might, and one belonged to him. Emmet couldn't help but remind himself it was the other way around. Golegeth had chosen him before ever escaping his shell.
Food and wine was brought to the table, and the atmosphere became a bit more relaxed. Emmet reached for a sweet roll at the same time as Lienna. Their hands touched. She met his eyes and smiled shyly. Emmet wasn't certain which of them blushed more furiously.
"Perhaps relations between our lands are already on the mend," Finny said with a sly smile.
Rodram raised his eyebrows and looked at Lienna, who now averted her eyes, turning an even darker shade. Keldon Tallowborn laughed from his belly, and it was the youngest Emmet had ever seen him look. It would have made him feel good if the laughter were not at his expense. Even so, he dared a glance back at Lienna. She must have sensed his gaze, for she looked up and giggled.
"There are less pleasant matters that must yet be dealt with," Rodram said. "All those listed as war criminals within this treaty have been captured save three. Agger Dan, Casta Mett, and the one they call Grunt have thus far evaded capture. I can assure you the people of the Firstland will scour land and sea to find them, but we also request your assistance in this matter. Our access to the air is . . . not what it once was."
That last remark made some in attendance shift uncomfortably. The aircraft they now lacked had not so long ago attacked this very place. Not much damage was still evident, which was among the reasons Dragonport had been chosen as the location of this meeting. The devastation of the Heights and even the reconstruction of Sparrowport were perhaps too stark a backdrop for the makings of peace.
"There is nothing we can do to take back the harm done to you and your lands," Rodram continued. "Though we lost many lives at the hands of a failed ideology—if you can even call it that—we've caused even greater damage to your lands on top of lives lost. To show our commitment to enduring peace, I've brought with me some of our best engineers and aircraft designers and their families. Perhaps we can, at least in some small way, be a part of rebuilding that which has been lost and make a better future."
"This is most appreciated," Keldon said. "Casta Mett, on the other hand, proposes an ongoing, long-term threat that must be neutralized. Given her ability to locate magic and her companions' survival skills, we cannot consider ourselves safe until they have all been brought to justice."
Finny nodded in agreement, as did Rodram. Barabas patted Emmet on the knee, now wearing a sad but peaceful smile.
"There is one final matter with which I will ask your assistance," Rodram said. "This young man was found in the Firstland wilderness, where no one in their right mind would go. It took a brave crew to rescue him. He says he's from Sparrowport."
A young man Emmet suddenly recognized stepped forward. Destin Brightwood had aged well. No more was he the skinny, pasty kid the others picked on; here was a young man who'd survived in the wilderness and no longer feared death. Emmet could see it in his eyes. They both had changed.
"Thank you, Rodram," Finny said, "for bringing him home. Perhaps we can convince one of the dragons to fly him back to Sparrowport."<
br />
At the mention of dragons, roars filled the air and a stream of dragons returned from a successful fishing expedition. Finny went pale. "Just stay here and everything will be fine," he said, contrary to the look on his face. Lodiarch spotted him and roared in excitement. Finny ran. He made it only a few steps before the huge tuna Lodiarch had been carrying struck him full in the back. A moment later, Lodiarch landed, looking proud. Finny pulled himself from the ground, but before he could scold the dragon, Lodiarch licked him from toe to hair.
Lienna giggled.
All over the plateau, dragons found their bonded humans and showed them their catches. No one was safe.
"Is it always like this with dragons?" Rodram asked.
Barabas chuckled. "Give 'em a couple decades. It'll wear off."
Emmet stood, watching the chaos around him.
"Can I come with you?" Lienna asked, meeting his eyes for only a brief instant. "Grandfather doesn't really need my help at the moment."
Rodram said nothing to contradict her.
"You might want to stay here a moment longer," Emmet said, hearing Golegeth's roar. Though he'd mostly broken the dragon of trying to sit in his lap while eating, excitement was clear in his dragon's voice. His brethren were not exactly setting a good example.
Emmet ran. Behind him, Lienna giggled. Golegeth swooped and scooped Emmet up in his free front claw. In his other he held some kind of fish Emmet didn't recognize. The species mattered little at the moment. The dragon did not land; instead, he circled above Dragonport with Emmet dangling from one claw, his fish from the other, bragging to his brethren. Only when Berigor issued a deep roar did Golegeth return to the field. He placed Emmet gently enough on the ground but held his human in place while he ate. There was little doubt who was really in charge.
Without fear, Lienna approached. "Are you all right?"
"I'll be fine," Emmet said, struggling to break free of Golegeth's grip. "He's not normally like this. He's just excited to see his kin."
"He's beautiful," Lienna said.
Golegeth released him and turned to regard Lienna. He sniffed her twice, sending her hair and skirts flying, then licked her across the face. Embarrassed, Emmet feared she would be upset, but she just laughed. The sound lightened his soul, and he'd never be the same again.
Barabas came to Emmet's side, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I've spoken with your grandfather," he said to Lienna. "He thought you might like to take a ride on a dragon."
"Really?" she bounced with excitement.
"If the conditions are right," Emmet said. "We're going to see a man named Tellymore. People call him Telly. Brick told me so."
Emmet could not have been happier. Perhaps flying within the tierre would allow him the appearance of having some control over the situation. Before he helped Lienna into the tierre, though, a family from the Firstland approached. While the mother and father weren't all that remarkable, Emmet could not look away from their son, an awkward boy with ears a little too large for his head. He shone like a new star.
Nodding to Barabas, Emmet pointed. "Magic."
Find out what happens when the goddess returns in the World of Godsland fantasy series. Available free through Kindle Unlimited.
Dragon Airways Page 65
