Shards of History

by Rebecca Roland

  Cracks spread quickly across the entire surface of the barrier, like a bowl shattering. And then the magic that had been holding it together broke. The shards drifted down slowly like snow, reminding Kushtrim of home. It was a good omen.

  His heart swelled until it filled him and warmed him to his fingers and toes. He urged his dragon on. She gathered speed, her powerful muscles contracting beneath him. Her sides glowed brighter with each inhalation, and she grew warmer as the fire inside her swelled.

  Kushtrim’s body trembled with excitement as he swept through the barrier shards. A glance over his shoulder showed how they swirled lazily in the dragon’s passage.

  Men on dragons took to the air and swarmed behind him. His men, counting on him to lead them safely through battle. Focus now.

  The faster squads split from the main group on either side and surged ahead. They would take the most southern aspect of the valley. Other squads split and headed for the eastern and western valley. They would form a circle and drive Taakwa to the center. Kushtrim’s squad would take the area around the falls. Okpairo’s squad took the northwest valley, remaining in Kushtrim’s sight.

  Just inside the nearby, sparse woods stood a Taakwa army. This he had not expected. Kushtrim’s dragon must have sensed his surprise, because her steady wing beats faltered. He patted the base of her neck, reassuring her, and she picked up her normal tempo.

  Kushtrim brought his hands together overhead, palms touching, to signal a change in plans. He brought both hands to his eyes, then pointed both to the Taakwa. Two of his men split from the squad, circling lower to gather more information about the Taakwa army.

  At the Maddions’ appearance, many of the Taakwa stared up and pointed. Kushtrim grinned. It seemed the Maddion were not what the Taakwa had been expecting. A couple of them bolted deeper into the woods, which widened Kushtrim’s grin. This would be easier than he’d expected. The barrier had made the Taakwa even softer over the years. That boy he’d bled had shown more courage in the face of his enemy than these grown men. He let out a triumphant howl. In response, his dragon released a stream of flame that heated the air all around Kushtrim.

  “Don’t waste it all right now,” Kushtrim said. The wind whipped the words from him.

  His two men swept low over the woods that hid the Taakwa. And right behind them, two dozen or so Jeguduns pursued. One of Kushtrim’s men pulled up and rushed towards him. The Jeguduns overtook the second man before he could do the same. They swarmed him and his dragon like ants on a fresh kill, and the entire mass of bodies fell to the woods below.

  Jeguduns swarmed from the caves along the cliff face like bees on the attack. Kushtrim freed his crossbow from where it hung, nocked an arrow in it, and rested it across the pommel of his saddle.

  His surviving man swept up before him. He made an X with his arms, then held up ten fingers. So, about a thousand Taakwa men filled the woods. Kushtrim’s squad numbered five hundred. Five hundred men on five hundred dragons, they would have the advantage if it weren’t for the Jeguduns. He rethought his earlier assumption about the ease of this attack.

  The Jeguduns spread over the entire valley, following his men. A band of the creatures rose to meet Kushtrim and his squad. He signaled half his men to take on the Taakwa. They dove for the woods. The other half he’d lead to take on the Jeguduns.

  He aimed for the heart of the group of Jeguduns. He admitted grudging admiration for how tightly the creatures flew in formation and how none showed fear. They came at him with talons out and teeth bared. There were perhaps a hundred of the creatures.

  He was almost upon them when he tapped his dragon’s side three times. Her belly swelled and grew warmer. She let loose with a stream of fire just as they reached the Jeguduns.

  The creatures screamed and parted, clearing the way for Kushtrim. The acrid smell of fire and burnt flesh and feathers filled the air. Several Jeguduns fell, engulfed in flames. Others were on fire but could still fly. They went to land, but their passage fanned the flames. Others tried to stop them in the air and smother the fire with their feet or hands.

  The rest of his squad had sent much of the Taakwa running, scattering them into the woods or towards the cliffs. One dragon swooped upon a Taakwa man, lifted him into the air, and then dropped him against a river of gray rock. Farther on, two dragons tossed a thin Taakwa man between them as they flew. Where the Taakwa gathered in thicker clumps, his men dove on them, burying their axes in their foes as their victory cries rose in the air. Kushtrim smiled.

  He pressed his right knee against the dragon’s side. She banked and rose, preparing to come around and attack the scattered Jeguduns from behind. Then she screamed, a high-pitched sound that pained Kushtrim’s ears, and her wing beats faltered.

  A Jegudun tore at the dragon’s left wing, leaving flesh to hang in tatters. Kushtrim whipped his crossbow up and aimed at the Jegudun, but the creature dropped before he could shoot. He patted his mount’s neck. “Hold on, girl,” he muttered soothingly. If he could get her to the waters, she might be saved.

  Kushtrim craned his head one way and the other, searching for Gerywn and Mortat. They were below him, circling one another warily. Then Mortat aimed his crossbow at Gerwyn and shot, just missing him.

  Kushtrim straightened in the saddle. “Blast. Blast, blast, blast.” Mortat was part of the conspiracy against him.

  His mount’s wing was injured enough to keep her from maneuvering, but she could manage to fly straight and land. He had to get her on the ground. He pressed his knees together and down. She began to dip immediately, aiming for the open space between the woods and the cliffs. It wasn’t the safest place, but right now, neither was the air.

  His dragon shuddered as if she’d been hit. The Jegudun that had torn her wing now clung to her belly. Kushtrim aimed his crossbow at the creature. It hissed and ducked beneath the dragon’s bulk. The dragon brought her head around, trying to snap at the Jegudun, but the smaller creature moved much more nimbly than the larger, injured dragon. And the Jegudun added extra weight for wings that already strained to hold her and Kushtrim up.

  The dragon brought her head around and screamed. Her entrails streamed from a huge gash in her belly, and the smell of blood and feces filled the air. The Jegudun peeked its head out and hissed.

  Kushtrim roared at the creature. If he couldn’t survive this, then at least he’d take down this Jegudun with him. He used his long blade to slice his dragon’s side open, revealing the hot sac that contained her fire. Then he stabbed the blade through the Jegudun’s hand, pinning the creature to his dragon. The Jegudun threw its head back and howled in pain. It pulled at the blade, trying to free itself.

  The dragon trembled beneath Kushtrim. She had seconds to live, if that, and still she tried to keep them airborne.

  Kushtrim plunged his hand into the dragon’s belly. He groped, his fingers encountering the fire sac, and ripped it open. If the fall didn’t kill the Jegudun, then the flames that would erupt on impact would.

  Fumes filled the air, stinging his eyes and making them water. He released his legs from the saddle and pushed off from her, putting as much distance between her and himself as possible. His dragon plummeted to the woods below, trailing flames after her, the Jegudun stuck to her.

  Gerwyn’s dragon dove under him. Kushtrim landed face down, halfway across the saddle and the dragon’s neck. Pain exploded through his abdomen, and the impact knocked the air from him. He started sliding off, but Gerwyn grabbed him and held tight.

  Below, the dead dragon hit the trees with a crash, sending burning branches flying. She came to a smoldering rest.

  Mortat’s dragon came around. Mortat steadied his crossbow against his forearm, taking aim for them, taking aim for Kushtrim.

  Kushtrim’s heart surged, his blood pumping so fast he feared he might black out.

  Mortat let loose the arrow. It whistled just over Kushtrim’s head.

  Mortat was supposed to be Okpairo’s man. Kushtrim didn’t t
hink Mortat had the audacity to try to take the position of Most Worthy himself, which meant Okpairo did. And Mortat, possibly, saw himself in Gerwyn’s position. Kushtrim had to admit what he’d suspected all along but didn’t want to believe. My own son. After all Kushtrim had done for his people, for his son, for his grandson, and Okpairo sought, no doubt, to take all the glory of this moment for himself. Worse, he jeopardized this moment for all their people. They needed to fight together against two enemies, not turn on one another.

  Kushtrim growled and struggled to a seated position with Gerwyn’s help. He sat on the dragon’s neck facing Gerwyn so he could hold onto the pommel of the saddle. Each time the dragon changed course, Kushtrim slid a little on her neck. He squeezed his legs tight around her and desperately hoped she didn’t have to swerve or go into a dive.

  “My own son betrays me,” Kushtrim said.

  Gerwyn grimaced. “So it would seem.”

  “Who else stands behind him?”

  “I’ve been trying to find out, Most Worthy, so I could present you with solid evidence. I would guess he has four dozen supporters or so, almost all of them from his squad.”

  How could he have overlooked so many men turned against him? Kushtrim punched his thigh with a fist. He’d been too focused on getting the Maddion into the valley.

  The dragon struggled with the extra weight. Kushtrim knew she would not be as nimble. Mortat, having missed his first shot, was coming around again. He didn’t seem in much of a hurry. That, more than having a crossbow aimed at him, bothered Kushtrim.

  “We have to land,” Kushtrim said. The wind snatched the words as soon as they left his mouth, but Gerwyn nodded his understanding. He guided the dragon down with his legs.

  Two Jeguduns were diving towards Gerwyn’s dragon from Kushtrim’s right. He pointed and said, “Two coming in.”

  Gerwyn, his face tense, leaned forward as if he could add speed to his dragon’s flight.

  From beneath the Jeguduns, Okpairo’s dragon rose. Kushtrim understood why Mortat hadn’t been in a hurry to come around for a second chance at him. Either the Jeguduns would get him, or Okpairo would.

  The Jeguduns didn’t spot Okpairo until it was too late. The dragon burst up between them, her talons ripping through one of them with an outstretched hind leg. Feathers exploded from the impact, and the Jegudun went tumbling to the ground. The other pulled up, shaking its head, dazed.

  Okpairo came around in a tight turn, then dove for the dazed Jegudun. As he passed, his dragon breathed fire. The Jegudun screamed and plummeted, trailing flames.

  Okpairo continued on, swooping towards Kushtrim, his face twisted with a snarl. He pulled his long blade free and raised it as if to impale them.

  Kushtrim’s chest grew heavy. “Gerwyn,” he cried out.

  “I see him, Most Worthy.”

  Gerwyn spurred the dragon on. He pushed her into a dive, but he couldn’t push her too hard or she might plummet uncontrollably.

  Kushtrim gritted his teeth as Okpairo bore down on them. He pulled his battle axe free. His other hand, clammy, he wiped on his pants, then gripped the pommel. Gerwyn grasped Kushtrim’s wool pants in both his fists, holding him steady.

  Kushtrim waited until Okpairo was nearly on them. Then he threw the axe, grunting with the effort, but as soon as he let the axe go, he knew it wouldn’t hit its target.

  It passed close enough to startle Okpairo’s dragon and make her dodge. They passed overhead, the wind of their passage buffeting Kushtrim. He grasped the pommel with both hands.

  “He’s coming around for another try,” Gerwyn said over the rush of the wind. He pushed the dragon towards the open space between the woods and the cliffs.

  Okpairo circled around. He started his approach from behind Gerwyn’s dragon and to Kushtrim’s left.

  Kushtrim said, “Give me your axe.”

  Gerwyn pulled it free. Kushtrim took it in his right hand, still holding onto the pommel with his other hand. The wind began to tear locks of hair loose from his tie. Some of it whipped around his face.

  Kushtrim would never be able to defend them with Okpairo approaching on his left. He switched the axe to his other hand, the weight of it awkward, and grabbed the pommel with his right. He would not throw it this time. He’d wait until Okpairo was nearly on them and then … well, he wasn’t sure what would happen then.

  I’m about to kill my own son, my only son. What else could he do? Part of him was tempted to put the axe down and let Okpairo kill him. But a greater part of him refused. His grip on the axe tightened.

  The ground was drawing closer. The tops of pine trees passed below them with an agonizing slowness, still a good distance away. Flames licked at the pines where Kushtrim’s dragon had fallen. Among the dappled shadows of the trees, he glimpsed Taakwa and Jeguduns milling about.

  Above them, the shards of the barrier had stopped drifting downward. They might even have been moving upward. Kushtrim growled. Okpairo, the fool, was going to kill them all with his ill-timed takeover.

  But the timing wasn’t bad, not for Okpairo. Kushtrim’s men were scattered all over the valley and focused on their tasks. What better time to kill him and Okpairo declare himself Most Worthy? Then the scrolls would read that Okpairo had been the one to lead the Maddion to victory.

  Okpairo swooped towards them, his long blade aimed at Kushtrim. His face was stone still with concentration.

  Kushtrim held the axe down at his side. The slight twitches in muscle of Okpairo’s dragon told Kushtrim that they would pull up at the last moment, probably right after he delivered the blade through Kushtrim.

  The shadow of Okpairo’s dragon fell across them. The long blade gleamed, the end sharp. It would pierce through Kushtrim’s flesh with little effort. The point grew, bearing down on Kushtrim like a beady eye.

  When the blade was an arm’s length away, Kushtrim swung the axe up in an arc. The axe hit the long blade with a clang, and the impact sent vibrations up his arm.

  Okpairo’s dragon’s claws reached for him. Kushtrim ducked. A claw caught some of his hair and pulled. Kushtrim started to slide. He dropped the axe and grabbed the saddle with both hands. Some of his hair ripped from his scalp, the sharp pain bringing tears to his eyes, and then the pull stopped.

  His stomach lurched as if he had dropped suddenly. Kushtrim straightened tentatively.

  Okpairo’s long blade pierced Gerwyn and the dragon, pinning them to one another. Gerwyn’s eyes were wide and staring at nothing. Blood oozed around the blade protruding from his stomach.

  The dragon was wounded but alive, probably confused without its rider’s signals and at the blade stuck in her.

  Kushtrim wrapped his legs tight around the dragon’s neck and tugged at the long blade until it came free from the beast’s side. The dragon let out a low, long growl that turned into a whimper.

  Kushtrim pulled the straps loose that held Gerwyn’s legs to the saddle. “I’m sorry, old friend.” Kushtrim shoved him off, and Gerwyn tumbled through the air.

  Kushtrim climbed into the saddle and turned carefully until he was facing forward. With some pressure from his legs, the dragon descended. Blood flowed from the wound on her side with each wing stroke. She began to slow.

  Ahead of them, Okpairo was turning around for another strike. And about a dozen men had joined him. They bore down on Kushtrim.

  Chapter 24

  With Enuwal’s help, Malia stood on shaky legs. Her thigh and knee throbbed again, and a line of fresh blood trickled down her leg from the arrow wound. She’d just have to take care of those problems later.

  Dalibor. She shuddered and turned from him. She couldn’t think about what she had done, not yet, but she was sure it would come back to her in her dreams. If she survived this day.

  She said, “We need to split the men into those who will work with the Jeguduns and those who will protect the others while they’re vulnerable,” she said.

  He nodded. “I can do that.” He hurried towards the
men, quickly organizing those who seemed more willing to cooperate with the Jeguduns into one group and sending the others to form a boundary around them. Shouts rose along the group as the message passed.

  Malia turned her attention to Posalo’s clan father just as a young man, hair probably braided no more than a few weeks before, came running up to him. She drew in a sharp breath. Vedran might be among these men, or he might be part of another group coming up behind. For his sake, and for all the Taakwa’s, she had to get them working on the barrier.

  “What do we do with the exile?” the young man asked as he came to a stop before the clan father.

  Rasmus! Malia had forgotten all about him. About a hundred paces away several men had a hold of him. Rasmus stood patiently as if waiting for an introduction to the clan father and not a possible death sentence.

  “He’s lived among the Jegudun for years,” Malia said quickly. “He can help us.”

  Roktin frowned. To the young man he said, “Tell them to let him go. And make sure the exile knows he is not wanted among us, but neither will we go out of our way to pursue him. For now.” He glanced at Malia. “If he chooses to help, that is his decision. If he chooses to run and hide, that is also his decision. And if he chooses to get in our way, we’ll have no choice but to take care of him.”

  Malia couldn’t ask for more, not now. Maybe later, when all this was over, she could beg for them to forgive Rasmus.

  Shadows passed over her. Moments later, screams pierced the air as dragons swooped upon some of the Taakwa who had taken off running when the Maddion had entered the valley. A dragon let loose a stream of fire that engulfed several men. Their screams turned to shrieks as flames leapt from them. Malia wished she could cover her ears. Her stomach seethed as the stink of burnt flesh reached her on the wind. High overhead, Jeguduns rushed to meet the dragons. Some screamed as they plummeted to the earth, aflame or badly injured. And in the distance, two dragons tossed a man back and forth between them as if playing with a toy. The power that coursed through her flared along with her rage. The Maddion would pay for what they did to her ancestors and what they were doing now to her people.