Gold Dragon

by Lindsay Buroker

  “I’ll lead,” Therrik said. “Ahn, you and your rifle take up the rear. Keep your buddy back there with you and out of trouble. Seven gods, pilot, is that little pellet gun all you brought?”

  “It’s a standard issue AB-7, sir,” Duck said.

  “Dragons aren’t standard issue. Ahn, keep him alive and watch our backs. Grady, Kaika, you come in the middle. Watch my ass.”

  “We have Lilah’s permission to do that, sir?” Kaika asked.

  Therrik growled.

  “Just checking,” Kaika said.

  “Was that a yes or a no?” Grady whispered to her. Trip assumed Therrik had more years in rank than he did, since Grady hadn’t objected to Therrik being in charge.

  “I believe what he said was that his wife requests we not let a dragon sink fangs into his ass,” Kaika said.

  “That much in one growl? Impressive.”

  “Dragon Boy, you’re with me.” Therrik looked at Trip, jerked his head toward the door, and started walking. “Let me know when we’re getting close to one.” His hand flexed on Kasandral’s hilt.

  Telryn, Azarwrath said, if you do not correct him, I will.

  You can’t do anything to him as long as he’s carrying one of those swords.

  We shall see about that. If nothing else, I can flash nightmarish images into his mind.

  I doubt anything gives that man nightmares. Trip followed Therrik.

  Apparently not quickly enough. Therrik gripped the latch on the door, saw that Trip hadn’t caught up yet, and said, “What’s the hold up?”

  “My sword would prefer it if you call me by rank or name, sir. Not Dragon Boy.”

  “Yeah? Your sword can talk to my sword.” Therrik held Kasandral aloft and looked down at Azarwrath’s scabbard.

  To that ignorant heap of ore? Please.

  “Are you really married, sir?” Trip didn’t bother to hide the puzzlement in his tone.

  “He is,” Kaika said, stopping behind them. “To General Zirkander’s cousin. I understand family gatherings are full of warmth, cheer, and booze.”

  “A lot of booze,” Therrik said.

  The door was locked. Before Trip could use his power to thwart the mechanism, Therrik heaved and ripped the door open, metal squealing.

  “Subtle, sir,” Kaika said.

  Therrik must have had enough banter. He strode into a dim hallway, the pale glow of his sword washing the beige walls and wood office doors.

  The chapaharii blades were all glowing strongly. They would lead their wielders to the dragons without Trip’s help, but he would do his best to advise.

  “All three of them have moved down to the basement floor, near… I read about thirty people down there with them.”

  “Hostages?” Therrik asked, turning down the first stairwell they reached.

  Trip paused, and Kaika and Grady almost bumped into him.

  “I’m not sure,” Trip said. “Maybe just prisoners that are being guarded because…” He didn’t know.

  As he followed Therrik down the stairs, he reached out with his mind, not trying to sense the dragons this time, but trying to connect to the humans. It was hard to single them out for contact with the dragons so close. Even though their auras weren’t as pronounced as when they were in their normal forms, they radiated power that drowned out the essences of the mundane creatures—and people—around them.

  Hello? Trip asked, trying someone in the center of the group. They were all in one basement room lined with shelves and filing cabinets.

  The person he sought to contact, a man, mentally recoiled and did not answer. He clawed at the air in front of him as if he could drive Trip’s presence away.

  Doubting he had time to convince him that he was a friend, Trip shifted to one of the other people in the room, an older woman with a hint of dragon blood. Maybe she would more easily accept telepathic contact.

  Hello, I’m Captain Trip with Wolf Squadron, he said, figuring he should make it clear he wasn’t a dragon.

  The recipient paused, and Trip sensed alarm and wariness.

  Are the dragons holding you hostage? We’re trying to reach you.

  Yes. I am Lady Skymoor, the governor’s wife. My husband and many prominent citizens are here too. And an odd number of bakers. They want to trade us for the region. They—

  Do you think we cannot intercept your communication? a voice boomed into Trip’s head. That we do not know a puny little mage is accompanying those sneaking into our new lair? You cannot harm us. You must come and take our demands to your king. Send forth your greatest leader.

  “Dragon Boy.” Therrik snapped his fingers in front of Trip’s face. “I said which way.”

  “I do think you should find a more flattering name for him, Therrik,” Colonel Grady said, gripping Trip’s shoulder from behind. “Even though my sword here believes I should skewer him.”

  “He hasn’t done anything yet to prove he deserves flattery. Falling off a pot and running into me doesn’t count.”

  “At the least, choose something that’s more easily rhymed than boy. I’m scribbling down notes, should I need to immortalize our mission today in a ballad. There are options—soy, bok choy, corduroy—but man would make everything much simpler.

  Therrik growled at him. “You’re even less deserving of flattery, so far, Grady.”

  “That’s hardly fair. We haven’t yet done anything.”

  “A dragon is speaking to me,” Trip said. “They know exactly where we are and want us to send our greatest leader forward to negotiate. They’re prepared to free the hostages if we give them this region.”

  “Region?”

  “The city isn’t enough?” Grady asked. “The greed of dragons knows no bounds.”

  Tell your leader to tell your king. We have decided that our earlier demands were too modest. If we do not have a treaty granting this region to our band of dragons by morning, we shall slay these humans and destroy the city.

  If you’re trying to take over the city, why would you destroy it? Trip asked.

  Human dwellings mean nothing to us. It is the land and the sea and all the life teeming upon and within it that will be ours. You humans stole the world from us. You owe us this. The voice grew so booming in Trip’s mind that he had to grip the wall for support. Tell your leader.

  Trip reached out to General Zirkander, not because the dragon told him so—at least he hoped he wasn’t being so easily influenced—but because Zirkander needed this information.

  Sir?

  What is it, Captain? Zirkander promptly responded, though Trip sensed him piloting his flier upside down as he arrowed toward a silver dragon, leading the squadron against the creature during a moment when Bhrava Saruth and Shulina Arya weren’t close enough to be in danger of being hit.

  I have a message, Trip told him and relayed it.

  I see.

  Do we keep going? Try to defeat them?

  Yes. Angulus isn’t giving up any of the country to blackmailing dragons.

  Understood, sir.

  Trip had been doing his best to keep his telepathic communication pinpoint so it wouldn’t be easily overheard by the dragons, but there was no way to shield Zirkander’s thoughts, as far as he knew, and a deep growl sounded in his mind, like that of some irritated predator.

  At the rear of their group, Captain Ahn abruptly turned, facing backward and pointing her rifle toward the stairs they’d come down.

  “I heard something,” she said quietly.

  “I don’t sense anyone back there,” Trip said, double-checking as he spoke.

  “Something is there. I—”

  A faint clatter came from the level above them. Or maybe the roof? Imagining the dragons using their power to annihilate the fliers, Trip hurried to check, already half-constructing a barrier that he could wrap around them. But he detected Leftie sitting in his cockpit with his rifle and his lucky ball, twirling it on its chain as he watched the aerial battle with the dragons and felt disgruntled that he hadn
’t been included—the rest of the fliers had gone to join in. He didn’t appear worried by any immediate threat to the rooftop.

  Another clatter sounded in their passage, followed by a scraping from the ceiling—or perhaps the floor above—directly overhead.

  The shadows stirred in the hallway behind them, and Ahn, already with her rifle butt pressed into the hollow of her shoulder, shifted her aim. But she didn’t fire. As far as Trip could tell, there was nothing to fire at but shadows.

  I believe the dragons may be attempting to scare you, Azarwrath said.

  “Why would they bother with little tricks?” Therrik asked, and Trip realized the soulblade had spoken to everyone in the group. “Every dragon I’ve met before just tried to kill me.”

  “Imagine,” Kaika murmured.

  “I don’t know, but the general said to take care of them. They’re down one more level from here.” Trip pointed to a dark stairwell at the end of the hallway. The door leading to it stood open, and a faint moan emanated from it.

  An intense feeling of dread came over Trip, along with the urge to flee. He sensed the power behind it, the manipulation, and he also sensed the being, the dragon, responsible for it. A silver in the form of a bear. It had left the room with the prisoners and waited at the bottom of the stairs with one of its allies, a silver also in bear form. Only the bronze remained back with the humans, but Trip didn’t see another way down into the basement.

  “Shit.” Duck whirled and stepped toward the exit.

  Kaika caught his arm. “Stay where you are.”

  “But death is coming for us.” Duck’s eyes were wide with terror.

  Captain Ahn’s face had grown pale, and her gaze darted to either end of the hallway, but she didn’t look like she meant to bolt.

  “Actually, it’s a bear.” Trip noted the chapaharii wielders were less affected than the pilots, but they also appeared to have felt the gust of fear. “Two of them.”

  “Kaika, Grady, get my back.” Therrik strode for the stairs with Kasandral held aloft.

  The other two sword wielders pushed past Trip, leaving him with Duck and Ahn, neither of whom looked to be in a hurry to go down those stairs. Though he didn’t know if it would work, Trip tried to bolster them with courage and to extend his mental defenses around them—hadn’t one of the soulblades once said he could learn to do that?—so they wouldn’t be affected by the intangible waves of fear rolling up the stairs.

  He also formed a barrier around them because he sensed the dragons would attack soon. The message had been delivered. They would want to get rid of the threat in the headquarters building. He only wished he could protect the sword wielders with his power, too, that the magic-hating blades would allow it.

  As Therrik stepped over to the landing at the top, a snarl floated up the stairwell. Then the floor quaked, stone cracked, and metal squealed. Mortar crumbled, and tiles snapped.

  Azarwrath reacted before Trip, and he suddenly found himself floating in the air, hovering inches above the floor. A floor that fell away underneath him as snaps and groans erupted all around them. Stone and wood rained down from above, pelting his barrier. He fed power into it, strengthening it as he looked back, fearing Ahn and Duck would have fallen.

  But they also floated, looking angry and alarmed now rather than simply afraid.

  A shout of pain came from the stairwell. Trip turned back as the entrance to it collapsed, and rubble fell from above, burying the three elite troops—and the chapaharii blades.

  7

  You think to challenge me, puny humans? the gold dragon snarled. This land belonged to us long before your people left their rude mountain caves, and it will be ours again.

  Wind rushed past Rysha’s face as Shulina Arya dove and twisted, turning her back toward her foe so Rysha could reach the gold dragon with Dorfindral. The blade glowed fiercely as rain spattered it. Rysha stood atop Shulina Arya’s back, magic holding her in position, and she lunged, slashing with the blade. It flared even brighter as it bit into scale and flesh.

  A screech of pain sounded in her mind, and the dragon contorted in the air, its tail whipping straight toward her.

  Not sure if Shulina Arya’s defenses would protect her when she carried Dorfindral, Rysha dropped down, flattening to her belly. The thick gold tail whipped past over her head.

  Die, vile enemy! Shulina Arya cried, and some invisible power slammed into their foe, sending the other dragon hurling talons over head and tail.

  As soon as the gold tumbled away, machine gun fire opened up. General Zirkander and four of the Wolf Squadron pilots strafed the dragon, flying over it and raining bullets.

  Rysha watched, worried the bullets would bounce off a magical barrier—that was what had happened earlier. But between her attack and Shulina Arya’s, the dragon’s defenses were down. The bullets bit into its scales, and more pained screeches sounded in Rysha’s mind.

  In everyone’s minds, she realized, as the wings wobbled on some of the fliers, the pilots wincing inside their cockpits.

  Zirkander finished his run and swooped into a loop to come back for another one. If the mental screams bothered him, he didn’t show it.

  Rysha was glad for the help, but with so many fliers up here in the sky with them, who was handling the three dragons in the city? Surely, not just Trip.

  Our enemy’s strength is flagging, Shulina Arya announced when the gold didn’t turn back to engage them again, as it had numerous times before. When we drive it away, we will help Bhrava Saruth, since it is clear he is challenged without a rider on his back.

  Bhrava Saruth flew over the harbor, hurling flames at two silver dragons that danced and dove away, weaving between the tall masts of the sailing ships, attempting to elude pursuit rather than engage. Several more fliers were over there, taking shots when they could, but they were understandably hesitant to rain bullets down on the docks. There had to be people hiding in some of those ships.

  Bhrava Saruth, thankfully, wasn’t wanton in his chase and avoided using his power and fire right around the sea vessels and the docks. That was the only reason, as far as Rysha could tell, that he hadn’t defeated his opponents yet. Unlike the silver dragons, he didn’t wish to damage property.

  Rysha suspected those dragons were buying time rather than outright trying to defeat Bhrava Saruth, and that worried her. What was this cohort of dragons up to?

  Bhrava Saruth doesn’t seem to be injured, Rysha thought, trusting Shulina Arya to read her thoughts. Maybe it would be better to finish this one off and then help Trip and the others. I’m concerned the dragons have set a trap down in that headquarters building.

  Hm, yes, that is possible. Not all bronze dragons are thinkers, but many are like my parents. They would definitely use guile rather than facing gold dragons, and if this one has convinced a gold and four silvers to work with her, she must be well-spoken and clever. She has convinced others to come out and face your dragon-hating sword.

  I’m not the only one here with a chapaharii blade. I think Kaika and Therrik went in with Trip. What if the dragons anticipated that and that is why they set a trap? To capture the weapons so we would have fewer resources that are effective against them? Rysha grimaced, worrying anew about Trip and the others, as Shulina Arya took her in the opposite direction, chasing the wounded gold along the cliffs to the south of the city.

  I will interrogate this one as you rain a thousand cuts on him, Storyteller!

  With Shulina Arya diving toward the gold, the dragon having already been wounded with at least a dozen cuts, Rysha didn’t have time to form an answer. Shulina Arya caught up with their foe, hurling fire at the gold’s broad head.

  Though their enemy was injured, it still raised a concave barrier, deflecting the flames.

  In a maneuver Rysha was growing accustomed to and ready for, Shulina Arya banked at the last second, turning her back toward the dragon—and the barrier. Rysha leaped to her feet again so she could extend her reach, then swept Dorfindral o
verhead.

  Though the barrier was invisible, Rysha felt it pop, a jolt of energy running up her arm. She attempted to slash again, now that the dragon’s defenses were down, but she couldn’t reach its scales.

  Their foe roared, twisting in the air, and retaliated. A shower of fire sprayed from its maw. Rysha recoiled instinctively and crouched low on Shulina Arya’s back.

  Some of the flames made it to her scales before she got her own barrier up, and Rysha felt their heat as the brilliant light stung her eyes. Even though the fire was warm and far too close for comfort, Dorfindral flared an intense green, and the flames did not burn her. The sword’s hilt felt cool in her hand.

  The fire halted abruptly as Shulina Arya got her own barrier up and angled so Rysha was protected, even though her blade would not allow a bubble of magic to fully encapsulate her.

  Forgive my slowness, Storyteller, Shulina Arya said as she wheeled to get away from the gold—or to ready herself for another attack. I was attempting to drill into his mind and extract the information you need.

  It’s fine, Rysha thought. The sword protected me.

  It is good that those foul dragon-loathing blades have a use. I may be able to forgive that one for constantly telling you to slay me. Do not think I do not witness the influence it tries to use on you. Foul magic. But good for poking enemy dragons with.

  Very true. Rysha wanted to ask if Shulina Arya had learned anything, but their enemy must have thought it had gained an advantage, for it flapped its powerful wings and arrowed after them. Or maybe Shulina Arya had managed to extract some information and it was desperate to keep her from sharing it?

  The dragon threw all its speed into a chase. Rysha believed Shulina Arya had meant to turn back into the battle—she didn’t seem to have the word retreat in her vocabulary—but she let out an indignant snarl as the other dragon lunged close, jaws snapping.

  He thinks to bite me in the butt? Shulina Arya cried, whirling to snap back. This is not the mating season, and I am not in heat.

  She hurled a gout of fire right into the dragon’s eyes.

  Even on her back, Rysha felt the heat from her inferno, and she had to squint against the light. Despite the roiling orange flames, she saw that the other dragon had its defenses back up, and the stream of fire parted and flowed around him.