Firedrake

by Bianca D'Arc

  “Regardless, I still have some coin that ought to cover a decent bed and a hearty dinner.”

  “Nellin and I have been to Bayberry Heath before. It’s a nice little town, though it was attacked when the Skithdronian army came through a few seasons ago. They’ve rebuilt well since then and they have accommodation for dragons. They’re used to patrollers from the Border Lair stopping by every week or so. We might be able to get news of what’s been going on since we left.”

  “It’s a good plan,” Drake agreed.

  After lunch, they all remounted and Wil transformed back into the black dragon that was his birthright. They launched from the hard-packed sand and took to the sky as the noon sun started its slow descent toward the horizon. They would have an hour or so of light left when they reached Bayberry Heath.

  Krysta rode with Drake, for which he was grateful. He liked having her warm body next to him. Liked being able to touch her as they flew along on Jenet’s back. He just liked everything about his new life, though he never would have imagined it when he’d left home so many years before. Here he was now, a knight, married to an incredible woman who was his match in almost every way, and partnered with a man he’d respected and liked since they were boys.

  Life couldn’t get much better.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Do you see that?” Mace’s thoughts rang urgently through all their minds. “Skith sign, and lots of it. Heading for Bayberry Heath.”

  “Damn!” Wil’s tone was filled with anger as he put on a burst of speed. Black dragons were faster than all others, though Jenet and Nellin did their best to chase the prince down.

  “Prince William!” Drake called after him. “Think about what you’re doing. I don’t think this is a random attack. The threat from Lucan still stands. I had good intelligence before you were kidnapped that he was aiming to capture one of the younger princes. I doubt that’s changed in the time you’ve been gone. You can’t just rush in there!”

  “Dammit, Drake! This is my homeland. My people. I can’t just let them die.”

  “An admirable sentiment,” Mace reasoned, “but a wise warrior never attacks without a plan.”

  “I have a plan, all right. I’m going in. Follow or don’t, it’s up to you.”

  They neared the town and could see the black dragon descending, flaming as he went, lighting fire to the trees and the skiths below. But there were a large number of soldiers waiting as well. This had to be a trap, though how they could have known exactly when their party would arrive was a mystery to Drake. Still, Lucan had devious ways of using magic for his own ends. Perhaps some kind of magic was afoot here.

  Too late, Drake saw the machine hidden in the trees. A spear launched toward William’s black hide, piercing his wing as the black dragon cried out so loudly it reverberated through the air, the trees and the ground itself. Nellin and Jenet trumpeted their distress as well, watching from the distance, just not fast enough to keep up with the prince.

  William went down in a ball of black fire, flaming everything around him as he fell to the ground, teeming with enemy soldiers. The townsmen were trying to fight as well but were sadly outnumbered.

  “Jenet, stay clear of the crossbow. They’ve got those diamond-bladed spears.” Mace rattled off instructions, though he knew Nellin shared his mind as they’d been trained to do. Already the male dragon was angling in for the perfect approach. With time and training, the four minds would work together, but for now, they had to make do.

  Nellin slowed marginally, dropping down under the fire. Mace could see that Wil had transformed and was swinging those twin sabers of his in lightning-fast arcs, though his back was bleeding profusely. He wouldn’t last long, even as skilled as he was.

  As he hit the perfect position, Mace dove headfirst, arms out to clobber a warrior who was aiming a deathblow to William’s unprotected back. They went down in a tumble of arms and legs as Nellin veered off, riderless. Mace dispatched the enemy warrior quickly, then placed his back to Wil’s, fighting with the prince, holding off all comers until help could arrive.

  First the dragons would take out that infernal machine. Drake and Krysta could be of some use as well. Though he hated to see either of them in any danger, Mace knew Krysta was a skilled warrior, as was Drake. They could help.

  Sure enough, seconds later, Krysta joined the fray on the far side of what Mace realized belatedly was the tavern yard. She moved quickly, Drake at her side. Mace noted flickering flames out of the corner of his eye and knew Drake had called his fire. Armed with balls of white-hot flame, Drake lobbed his magical missiles at the enemy soldiers one by one, causing little damage to the surrounding area, but sending soldiers scrambling for cover.

  Two skiths slithered in and all the Skithdronian soldiers stepped back to let the evil creatures do their work. Drake moved forward, a fireball in each hand that grew bigger and hotter as Mace watched out of the corner of his eye.

  When Krysta’s short sword was knocked from her grasp, she was forced to use the fan blades Lilith had given her. She wasn’t sure just how strong the delicately patterned metal was. She hadn’t had a chance to test the blades yet, but they were better than nothing. She used the edges to slice her way through the enemy and the flat of the fans were excellent for blocking as well as shielding. More than one arrow bounced off their glittering surface and several blades were repelled by their deceptively beautiful strength.

  All in all, Krysta was well pleased with the thoughtful gift. The fans had come in handy already. She fought at Drake’s side until he called his flame. She gave him room to maneuver as he began to lob fireballs at the enemy, and when the skiths slithered in, she backed away to as safe a position as she could find.

  The enemy soldiers retreated, probably expecting the skiths to take care of them, but they hadn’t reckoned on Drake—or rather the FireDrake. The dragons did their part too, cutting off any line of escape.

  Dragon fire was deadly to skiths, but it took some doing to roast them. Apparently Drake’s fire was even more potent. The first skith went down in a ball of writhing flame that flared, but did not spread to the surroundings. The flame enveloped only the skith, not igniting any debris on the ground or the surrounding buildings no matter how close the burning carcass came to the tinder dry wood.

  The flame began to engulf Drake and he faced the remaining skith with renewed fire. Krysta watched, mesmerized as the fire spread, hissing in the spitting, acidic venom released by the skith as it fought back. Drake’s fire increased, forming an impenetrable shield around him as he advanced on the skith.

  No one advanced on a skith. No human, at any rate. Krysta realized she was witnessing something never before seen. Drake was braver than any man she’d ever known, facing down a skith with magical fire as his only protection.

  “That fire is something,” Mace said. He’d come to her side as she watched Drake, Wil beside him. With their backs to the only stone building in the square, they were reasonably well protected from enemies, though most of the soldiers had fled. They apparently preferred to let the skiths do their work and gave the disgusting creatures a wide berth to do it in.

  Although, to give them credit, between the humans and the dragons, they’d taken out more than half the enemy fighters. Only a few were left to scamper away from the skiths.

  And scamper they did, as more skiths showed their ugly maws near the center of the action. Drake fried the skith he faced in short order. It was easier this time—at least it looked that way to Krysta—and another skith slithered in to take its place. The dragons each faced skiths and flamed everything in the creatures’ paths, but more replaced the ones going up in flames.

  Mace had to restrain Wil, though if the dragon prince had really wanted to shift, nothing would have stopped him. But Wil was still bleeding, injured too severely to put up much of a fight.

  “You keep watch, I’ll see what I can do for Wil.” Krysta switched places with Mace, doing her best to field dress Wil’s seeping w
ound while Mace stood guard.

  “There are too many of them,” Mace said, just barely audible over the roar of the battle. Krysta looked up to see even more skiths had arrived, but the dragons were holding their own, as was Drake.

  His fire flamed brighter and higher than any natural fire she’d ever seen. It got to the point where all Drake had to do was lob a swath of his magical fire at a skith and it would immediately burst into showering, cleansing flame.

  Slowly, the dragons and Drake gained the upper hand, frying the skiths until there were none left. Only remnants of their acidic venom and acrid, burnt heaps of ash remained all around the inn yard. Drake took care of the dangerous acid by skipping magical flame from one area to the next. All around the inn yard, puddles of acid burned away until they were gone, the earth itself cleansed of their taint.

  Mace stood on guard, but it soon became evident that the few enemy soldiers left had run fast and far away. He leaned against the stone wall next to Krysta as Drake took care of the last of the cleanup.

  “Something’s wrong.” Krysta watched Drake with wide, worried eyes.

  Mace looked over at Drake, startled by the fire that still surrounded him. Drake’s hands battered against forces only he could see. As Mace watched, Drake’s expression went from anger to despair and Mace knew he had to act quickly.

  “Jenet, Nellin, can’t you do anything?”

  “We can hold the fire away from others, but we can’t send it back to its source. We are creatures of fire, we can’t banish it.” Jenet was clearly worried.

  “Drake has to do that himself.” Nellin sounded unsure.

  Mace stepped right up to Drake, pulling back quickly when the flame surrounding him flared hot in his direction. Mace could feel the heat of the fire, but it didn’t burn him. Guessing Drake didn’t have long before the fire consumed him, Mace stepped forward into the living pillar of flame.

  It hurt like hell, but it didn’t injure. Mace grabbed Drake’s forearms when he tried to move back. They held each other elbow to elbow in the way of warriors, grounding each other.

  “Come back, brother. Control your magic and bring it to heel.”

  “I don’t know if I can, Mace. Let go. I don’t want to take us both down.”

  “You won’t. We’re partners now. Where you go, I go.” Mace gripped Drake’s arms, squeezing hard. “Master the fire, Drake. It’s what you were born to do.”

  “Don’t do this. Krysta needs you.” Drake tried to break free, but Mace held strong.

  “She needs us both, brother. This is your destiny. Your magic to control and call to heel. Do it. You have the ability. You were born of wizards. You’re the most accomplished man I know. Surely you can manage this one little thing.”

  Mace held Drake’s gaze steadily, challenging him as he struggled to conquer the flames and quell the inferno he’d called. Little by little, the licking tongues of fire dissipated, caressing now rather than consuming. Mace gritted his teeth against the pain, but held firm to Drake’s arms, imparting his strength to his new brother.

  “You stubborn bastard,” Drake said as the magical fire began to come under control. There was no heat in the words, only a gruff sort of affection that Mace understood.

  “Takes one to know one,” he replied, sharing a grin with Drake as the flames he’d called finally flickered and died.

  This, then, was what Mace had to offer their partnership. Drake was a creature of air and light, flame and magic. Mace was here to hold him steady, to anchor him to earth and to their partnership.

  “Thank the Mother of All that you came to help, my lords!” A stout man approached them from the tavern, wringing his hands and shattering the moment of communication between the new fighting partners. “You’ve saved my inn and our village. Thank you!”

  A cheer went up from the villagers. Many had stood and fought for their homes, but the old and the very young were just emerging from dragon-scorched buildings to tend the wounded. Wil was still bleeding, but even before Mace could comment, the first of the dragons from the Border Lair landed. It was carrying two—a knight and a lady. The lady approached quickly.

  “I’m Belora.” Her green eyes were curious as she regarded the prince.

  “I’m William.”

  “William! But you’re…” She trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

  “He’s hurt, is what he is.” Krysta stepped forward. “I know it seems strange and we can answer all your questions later, but he really is Wil. Ask the dragons if you don’t believe us.”

  Belora cocked her head to the side as if in thought. A moment later she strode forward, placing her hands on William’s shoulder.

  “I don’t understand any of this, but I can help. Turn around now and let me see to your wound.”

  Mace watched yet another flagrant display of magic as the young woman—famous throughout Draconia for being one of the lost princesses of the House of Kent—laid delicate hands on Wil’s injured shoulder. Within moments, the wound began to knit as her special brand of magic took form. Mace could actually feel it.

  Something was different now. He’d seen skilled healers do their work before. In fact, he’d witnessed both Queen Alania and Princess Arikia heal dragons and knights alike in the Castle Lair, but he’d never felt this tingle of magic before. He’d seen Princess Belora from afar as she visited her sisters, but he’d never spoken to the youngest of Adora’s daughters.

  The innkeeper stood back, watching with just a bit of awe on his round face. Villagers began the grisly business of cleaning up and trying to recover, all the while, the small woman worked healing magic on William’s deep wound.

  “We all heard your distress call. We came as fast as we could. I knew a dragon was in trouble so I made Lars take me along.” Belora spoke soothingly as she worked her healing.

  “Thank you, cousin. I know this seems odd to you, but I really am William. I’m just a little older than you expect. To you, I’ve only been gone about five days, but to me, it’s been just over five years.”

  “I don’t understand it, but Kelvan is sure to be getting the story out of your dragon friends as we speak. He doesn’t like me to say it, but he’s a terrible gossip,” she teased, even as Wil winced. She had to manipulate his arm in order to reach the deepest part of the wound and was talking, Mace noted, to help distract Wil from the pain. “Who are your companions, Wil? Shall I guess?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “We were told a minstrel named Drake and a Guardsman had taken off with Jenet, Nellin and Sir Mace.”

  “I’m Drake.” He nodded wearily. “Did Ren and Lilla make it to the Border Lair safely? Are they well?”

  “They are doing better each day, though it was a close thing. So you’re the minstrel? Funny, I could have sworn I saw you throwing fireballs. I’d have said you were some kind of mage.” She winked, smiling as she moved Wil’s arm again. He was in less pain now, Mace could tell from Wil’s expression. The princess was truly gifted. “And I suppose you’re Sir Mace. I don’t think we’ve ever met officially though Kelvan talks about his friend Nellin from time to time and I met Jenet when I was at the castle last.”

  Mace nodded politely. “I’m glad to meet you, Princess Belora. Thank you and your mates for coming to our assistance.”

  “Towns up and down the border have been having trouble the past few days. We’ve been on even higher alert than usual.”

  Sir Gareth walked into the tavern yard at that moment and headed straight for Mace. They shook hands in the warrior way and exchanged grim expressions as he looked at the carnage all around.

  “My lady is right,” he said to the group. “Something’s stirred up the skiths and King Lucan’s soldiers these past few days. My bet is, you’re the reason.”

  “You’d win that bet, Gareth.” Mace nodded grimly.

  “We had intelligence even before Wil was snatched that Lucan is after one of the younger princes. He must have heard about Wil’s abduction.” Drake stepped forward to meet the knight.<
br />
  “It’s been the talk of the land,” Gareth agreed.

  “I have to get back to the castle,” Wil said as Belora finished up. “Thank you, cousin.”

  “You should rest for the night at least,” Belora admonished him. “It will you do no good to reinjure the wound I’ve just managed to heal.”

  “We’d planned to stay the night in this town anyway,” Mace added.

  “Now that we know what’s stirred the hornet’s nest…” Gareth eyed William thoughtfully, “…we can help. You’ll have company as you make your way toward the castle. Hopefully you can avoid any more incidents like this until after you get a chance to see the king.”

  “Thank you, Gareth.” Mace felt his burden ease. “That would be much appreciated.”

  The tavern owner approached once more after having gone off to help some of the wounded villagers. “I have a few rooms and accommodation for your dragons, sirs. Please stay the night with us. I think it would make the entire village feel more secure.”

  “We will be happy to stay.” Drake turned his charm on the man. “We’ll need three rooms. One for Sir Gareth, his partner and his lady, one for Wil and one for us.” He pointed from Krysta to Mace and back. “We’d like Wil’s room to be between the other two, if that’s possible.” Drake spoke in low tones so that only the immediate company could hear his plans.

  The innkeeper nodded agreeably. “We can arrange that, sir. No trouble at all. Interior room, with no access except from the hall. I know how you knights like your security. I’ll set my girls to fixing the rooms up right away.”

  Drake walked off with the tavern owner and Wil and Belora followed slowly after. It was clear the prince was still in a bit of pain and the lady watched over him. Krysta followed as well, shaking her head at how easily Drake charmed the innkeeper.

  Mace felt Gareth’s eyes on him. Gareth was older than he and Drake, but Mace had trained with him for a year after being chosen by Nellin, and knew the man well.