Gold Dragon

by Lindsay Buroker

  Rysha bit her lip and returned the salute, touched by the words. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “The induction ceremony will be the day after tomorrow.”

  “Are there any missions planned?” Rysha asked, more interested in that than in ceremonies.

  She already knew her parents wouldn’t ride up for the presentation or to help her celebrate this. More likely, they would spend the night she shared the news drinking, lamenting that she had passed and would continue to put her life at risk instead of returning to the world of academia. If her grandmother had still been alive, she would have come up, even if it meant riding miles along the highway on horseback by herself. Rysha felt a twinge of sadness at the memory of her pointless loss.

  “As it so happens,” Kaika said, “I was told to report to the castle early tomorrow morning. You better come too.”

  “Uhm, am I expected?” Rysha worried that King Angulus, or whoever had called this meeting wouldn’t be pleased if she invited herself. Or if Major Kaika presumed to invite her.

  “Your dragon is.”

  Rysha blinked and turned toward Shulina Arya.

  Indeed, yes. At the castle in the morning. My parents told me to come.

  “Your parents are in the city?” Rysha asked.

  In the past, Shulina Arya had mentioned being raised by two male bronze dragons who’d rescued her from her birth mother, a cranky female who’d considered her scrawny and who had wanted to sacrifice her. But Rysha had never met them. She hadn’t even been certain they were alive or had come through the portal into Linora.

  They just arrived today. It will be good for you to meet them. I once told them I wanted to find a noble warrior of a rider to fly into battle with one day. They always said I could do anything I wished if I merely focused on it. Now, I will show you to them.

  Rysha made herself smile, but the idea of her being introduced to Shulina Arya’s family as the culmination of some dragonly goal made her feel… She couldn’t even describe it. She hoped she wouldn’t disappoint these dragons.

  “Meeting the family, huh?” Kaika asked, having apparently heard the telepathic conversation. “Do you think they’ll be impressed with sock puppets?”

  2

  Captain Telryn “Trip” Yert rolled his flier into the hangar, trailing after Major Blazer and Captain Ahn, and gave the dashboard a little pat as he navigated W-38 into its parking area. The sleek one-man flier was brand new, fresh from the factory and of the latest design. He’d been tickled to take it up into the air, though he admitted to being a touch lonely without Rysha in the seat behind him. He might have even settled for the dour Dreyak.

  Thinking of the dead Cofah warrior made him grimace. He owed Dreyak’s mother a favor, and he owed Prince Varlok, current ruler of the Cofah empire, an explanation. Technically, he only needed to deliver a magical dagger to the prince, and it would do the explaining. In its own ancient, arcane way. Trip had briefly explained his obligations to King Angulus when he, Rysha, and Major Kaika had returned from Rakgorath, but Trip hadn’t heard anything about it, or seen the king, in the weeks that followed.

  He hated to be a nag—was nagging royalty allowed?—and Iskandia had its own problems to deal with, but he had made a promise.

  “She must fly real good,” a voice drifted up from the hangar deck. Captain Duck. “You’re already caressing her, and we didn’t even find any dragons to fight this time.”

  Cheeks warming, Trip withdrew his hand. It had been more of a daydreaming, absent-minded touch than a caress, but he doubted he could say anything that would keep him from being mocked.

  “She handled nicely as we went past a couple of belligerent seagulls.” Trip pushed his goggles up on his forehead and unfastened his harness. “I’m positive she’ll knock the scales off any dragons we encounter and leave them bald.”

  He grabbed Azarwrath’s scabbard from the holder he’d made next to his seat and stood to climb down from the flier, but paused, realizing Duck wasn’t alone down there.

  “Bald dragons?” General Zirkander asked. “Sounds moderately appalling.”

  “I imagine so, sir.”

  “I have seen a dragon react with distress to acid eating through its scales, courtesy of one of Tolemek’s early goos. I understand he’s been ensconced in his lab and is making more since your team brought blood samples back from the portal mission.”

  “That’s good, sir.” Realizing Zirkander wasn’t going to mock him for caressing his dashboard, Trip slid down, accidentally clunking Azarwrath’s hilt on the side of the flier. There were days he did not feel like a powerful sorcerer. Or even a powerful sorcerer-in-training. “Will I get to meet Dr. Targoson? I asked Captain Ahn if he was nice, and she shrugged and grunted at me.”

  “A shrug and a grunt?” Duck asked. “You must have caught her on a loquacious day.”

  “Loquacious, Duck?” Zirkander asked. “Have you been reading dictionaries?”

  “I’ve been reading plenty of things, sir. Big, thick books from ye olden days when they used lots of fancy words. Cradarkin, Grundier, Lady Marchthicket. Classics.”

  “Those are classic romance novelists, aren’t they?”

  “Well, some might call them that, but there’s a lot of swashbuckling in the stories, and there are wars and politics and intrigues. And tips for how to be a gentleman and win a lady. Did you know it’s considered impolite to discuss medical conditions, people’s age, gossip, scatology, and animal mating habits in the presence of ladies?”

  “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

  “I know. I’ve been doing it all wrong, sir. I can’t help it that it’s hard to make a good tracking metaphor without mentioning scat.”

  “What’s left to talk about?” Trip asked, bemused by the direction the conversation had gone, but relieved he wasn’t the one being teased anymore.

  “Food and fashion and music are what the book suggests,” Duck said. “I’m writing down some conversation starters about army rations that I can use the next time I’m at the tavern and sit down by a pretty lady.”

  “I’m sure that will do the trick.” Zirkander patted him on the shoulder, then turned a more serious expression toward Trip. “Believe it or not, this wasn’t what I came over to talk about.”

  “Shocking, sir,” Trip said.

  “You, Duck, Blazer, Colonel Tranq, and Captain Ahn are cordially invited to the castle in the morning to discuss the dragon problem with the king. Some of the elite troops sword wielders will also be there.”

  “I’m invited, sir?” Duck sounded surprised.

  “It was more of a requirement than a request, I confess,” Zirkander said. “Because you have more prior experience with dragons than most of our pilots. Maybe you can chat with Angulus about army rations if you’re not sure what else to discuss.”

  “I was planning to use those opening lines on a lady, sir.”

  “Maybe you can trot them by Blazer and Ahn. I expect Kaika will be there too.”

  Duck’s mouth twisted, and Trip suspected he was trying to think of a polite way to suggest Kaika wasn’t the kind of lady he had in mind.

  Trip wondered if Rysha would be there. She should have had her elite troops final test by now. Had she passed? He’d been out of town for several days and had no way to know. He’d used his magic to look for her on the training field as the squadron had flown in, but it had already been empty, the testing complete. If she’d passed, she ought to officially be a dragon rider now. As the only one Iskandia had—unless one counted Tylie, Phelistoth’s rider, who was of Cofah origins and hadn’t volunteered to hunt down Iskandian enemies on a regular basis—she ought to be invited to any important meetings.

  “Be there early. I’m sure the king will want everyone’s input.” Zirkander scratched his jaw and looked at Trip. “Have you met Shulina Arya’s parents?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Apparently, they’re the reason for the meeting.”

  “A couple of bronze dragons? Did they s
ay what they wanted?”

  “No, but I gather Angulus is pleased that they requested an audience rather than simply flying into the country, ravaging the landscape, and eating people’s cows and sheep, as has been the norm for most of the dragon visitors we’ve had.”

  Any idea what to expect, Azarwrath? Trip asked. He’d given Jaxi back to Sardelle, so he only had one soulblade riding on his hip these days. Azarwrath was on the quieter side.

  No, but I dread hearing more about army rations, Telryn. When will you take me to a restaurant with fine china, chefs in the kitchen, and a sommelier waiting tableside to tell us about the best vintages in his cellar?

  Quieter, but not less eccentric, Trip decided. A somme-what?

  The soulblade sighed into his mind. A wine steward, Telryn. Now that you are realizing your powers and becoming respected among your people, it’s time for your tastes to mature.

  Maybe I can borrow some of Duck’s books. The swashbuckling sounded promising. Though I’d rather read metalworking and engineering periodicals to see what new processes are being invented. The classics are a tad dry.

  The soulblade sighed again. Trip wondered if Azarwrath ever regretted his decision to accept a lowly Iskandian with lowly tastes as his wielder.

  “Oh, and Trip?” Zirkander had started away, but he turned back around. “Are you coming for tutoring tonight?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Sardelle invited the surrogate mothers to come for a checkup and to see if she could do anything for them. I assume most of them will bring the babies with them, in case you want to see them.”

  “Yes, sir. I do.”

  A night spent with squalling babies, Azarwrath said. So different from a night of fine dining.

  Maybe there will be cookies.

  You have simple tastes, Telryn.

  Last time we were there, General Zirkander’s mother brought those cookies with the butterscotch chips. Trip had only had butterscotch a few times in his life and had considered them exotic. Didn’t you think those were good?

  Azarwrath issued another mournful sigh.

  Young Marinka raced around the oversized couch made from flier parts singing, “Company, company!” while kittens scampered about. The sleek black-and-white mother cat ignored her offspring while keeping an eye on a foot-long lizard that scuttled about but mostly hid under the end tables. Even if Trip hadn’t recognized the lizard—it had grown since being released from its stasis chamber—he would have sensed the dragon blood in its leathery green body. The rest of the animal menagerie was being housed in the bunkhouse out back, alternately tended by Sardelle’s two younger students and Tylie. Apparently, the monkey was being trained to do chores.

  Marinka finished her dead sprint around the house by twirling on the rug in front of the couch, throwing her arms up, and giving a final cheerful, “Company!”

  The two surrogate mothers who had already arrived and sat down in plush chairs shifted their babies in their laps and clapped politely. Marinka bowed deeply, her ponytail almost brushing the floor.

  Sardelle, who stood with her baby boy, Olek, cradled in her arms, watched this display with some bemusement.

  “I was a quiet, introverted child,” she explained to Trip.

  They had wrapped up his sorcery lesson when the first of the mothers arrived, and now waited for the rest.

  “My guess is that General Zirkander wasn’t, ma’am.”

  Sardelle nodded. “His mother has confirmed this for me. She told me about how she struggled to keep him under control when his father was gone—and also when he was home—and that he drove her to drink a few times. I may have to take up a beverage stiffer than tea once mine are both ambulatory.” She tilted her chin toward the baby.

  “How long until babies learn to walk?” Trip figured Sardelle’s had a ways to go, but one of his siblings was almost a year old, or so his surrogate mother suspected. Nobody knew their exact ages for certain since that hadn’t been included on the plaques. Only a couple had been labeled with names.

  Trip hadn’t seen enough of the eldest boy to know if he could walk yet. He’d spent most of his time interacting with little Zherie. Sardelle had volunteered to take care of her alongside her own two, so she was always here at the house. Trip sensed Tylie out back with her now, perhaps showing her the monkey.

  “Usually by the time they’re a year or so. But crawling commences before then.” Judging by Sardelle’s face, that was when the trouble began.

  Trip wondered how trying his mother had found him. Maybe she had expected him to be unusual, given his origins, and had been prepared for it. Or maybe she had spent a lot of time asking Trip’s grandparents for help.

  He’d finally found time to send them a letter a couple of weeks earlier to update them on the mission, the parts he was at liberty to discuss, and he’d decided to tell them about the babies too. He wasn’t sure the army wanted the word getting out about them, but they were his siblings. He figured he had the right to tell his family members about them.

  Out on the rug, Marinka flopped down next to a toy box and began extracting blocks to play with. One of the surrogate mothers placed her squirming charge on the rug, and the little boy demonstrated crawling. Marinka, probably uninterested in all the babies invading her house, ignored him. She did pat the cat when she sashayed past on the way into the kitchen, ignoring four wrestling kittens along the way.

  Trip spotted the fish puzzle he’d made and was inordinately pleased when Marinka selected it. Had she tried the puzzle yet? Was she old enough for puzzles?

  A knock sounded at the door, and Sardelle waved it open with a nudge of power. One of the mothers, a curly-haired woman in her twenties who had two boys but had lost her last baby in childbirth, walked in carrying a four-month-old girl.

  “Hello, Mladine,” Trip said. “Are you all right?”

  Her eyes were tight, and he sensed distress from her. He checked the baby, and she seemed fine.

  “Yes, Telryn. Thank you, but…” Mladine looked to Sardelle. “I took the children to visit my parents at their little dairy in the countryside up north. A silver dragon flew over the area yesterday and destroyed the neighbor’s silos. He ran out with a shotgun. I don’t know what he was thinking it would do, but he was determined to protect his property and fired at the dragon. It swooped back down and…” She glanced around the room. The children weren’t paying attention, but the two other mothers had turned to listen. “He didn’t make it,” Mladine said.

  “We’ve been hearing the reports of trouble,” Sardelle said grimly, “especially in the rural areas. They largely seem to be stealing livestock, but when people object… it gets ugly. And sometimes even when people don’t object, from what I’ve heard.”

  “Were you—is your family all right?” Trip asked, hesitating to come forward and peer at the baby. He didn’t want it to seem that his little sister was his only concern and he didn’t care about Mladine and the rest of her family.

  “Yes, we stayed out of it, but it was terrifying. My husband stayed behind to help.” Mladine must have noticed him checking on his little sister, because she stepped forward. “Do you want to see her, Telryn?”

  He nodded and peered into the blanket wrapped around her, finding the baby alert and curious. Her small hand made gripping motions in the air, and Trip stuck his finger into her grasp. She seemed to find this delightful. He found it sweet and shuddered to think about what would have happened if that dragon had taken offense to Mladine’s family’s dairy rather than the neighbor’s silos.

  “She’s been grabbing her own feet a lot lately,” Mladine said. “Newly discovered body parts.”

  “Does she need a fun toy to grab?”

  “Careful, Trip,” Sardelle murmured before he could grow too excited at the prospect of designing an interesting grasping toy. “They’ll all be here tonight. You don’t want to promise too many toys.”

  “I can make them quickly. It’s not a problem.”

  H
e smiled at Mladine, and she smiled back. If the surrogate mothers thought him odd for being half-dragon, or having an overly developed interest in building things, they had been too well schooled to show it.

  “Have a seat, Mladine,” Sardelle said. “My students should have some snacks for us soon.”

  “Should I be relieved you don’t make me prepare snacks as part of my training?” Trip had seen Ylisa and Ferrin cracking eggs and manipulating stirring spoons with their minds.

  “I wasn’t sure if you would consider it beneath you. Though knowing how to make cookies and tarts is a good skill to have. Even if I didn’t acknowledge that until I was a mother myself, and someone with frequent winged houseguests who enjoy sweets.”

  When Mladine sat down, the other two mothers quizzed her on the dragon. Trip listened as the story was relayed in more detail and grew troubled.

  Something needed to be done. Nobody would be safe as long as dragons were marauding in Iskandia. His siblings wouldn’t be safe.

  He vowed to change that.

  3

  Trip smoothed his uniform, tucked his cap under his arm, and scraped his fingers through his short hair, aware of the guards at the solarium door eyeing him surreptitiously. He wasn’t sure if it was because he looked too young to have been invited to this important meeting at the castle or if it was because there were rumors going around the capital that he was a powerful sorcerer. He decided to hope for the former, since the latter had resulted in a write-up in a newspaper and a couple of old ladies on the street making superstitious gestures at him for warding off evil spirits.

  When he’d envisioned journalists writing about his exploits, it had involved heroic flier battles in which he saved the country from certain doom. Not articles that speculated about his heritage and suggested that dragons had sent him to live among humans as a spy.