Dragon Flight

by Jessica Day George

  “Me, too,” Marta sighed. She was already sitting down, Tobin’s arm around her waist, and her head resting on his broad shoulder. “I did spend the afternoon hanging from a roof. ” She patted Ria’s foreleg. “Thank you for rescuing us. ”

  “Yes,” I said, also patting her leg. “Thank you. ”

  A strange look came into Ria’s eyes, and she sniffed at me, sucking my loose tunic away from my body. “You smell very strongly of a certain dragon …” Her head drew back, and her eyes widened. “One I have not seen in many years. ” She sniffed me again before turning to Feniul. “She smells of the Gold,” she said, her voice confused.

  “Yes, she and my cousin are very close,” Feniul said with pride. He made it sound as though he had introduced us.

  “But we were told that the Gold had died, over a year past!” Ria’s nostrils dilated. “So Krashath continues his plot against his brother. I did not believe him when he said Shardas lived. He said he felt it in his bones. ”

  “Shardas is alive,” Feniul assured her, “and on his way to fight Krashath. ” His dignified tone turned to worry. “Although he was badly hurt, and we are not sure that he is well enough yet to travel and to fight. ”

  “The Golden King, alive!” Ria didn’t seem to hear the part about his injuries. “And coming to defeat his brother at last! This is a great day! We must tell those I have hidden at once. Surely all nine of them will join us now. If only our queen were alive, to give us strength as well!”

  “Oh, Velika’s still alive, but she can’t travel yet,” Marta said. She was slumped across Tobin’s lap and her eyes were shut. “Can I sleep now?”

  She slept right through the torrent of questions that followed this pronouncement. And through our efforts to enlighten Ria about the situation with her queen and king. And through Luka sending one of his men with Ria and Feniul to gather up the other uncollared dragons and arrange a rendezvous point for that evening. She slept through Tobin kissing her cheek and arranging her more comfortably on her bed, and Luka trying to do the same for me, which made me blush and stammer and pull a blanket over my head to “shut out the light”.

  Then I slept as well, for the rest of the day, my mind and body far too tired to deal with any more excitement.

  On the Shore

  Nine dragons came from a cave to the south of the city. Nine dragons, gleaming in the moonlight, with bright eyes and silken wings. It was a wrench for three of them to leave their hatchlings and eggs, but they were excited at the idea of seeing their king, of fighting Krashath, and of being free once and for all.

  Added to that nine were Ria, Feniul, Niva and Amacarin, giving us a total of thirteen dragons with whom to fight. Once I would have cheered to have so many at my side. Once I would have laughed in awe and amazement. But that was before I had seen hundreds of dragons flying in formation above Nason’s palace.

  Across the Strait of Mellelie lay Roulain, and beyond that Feravel, but in the moonlight we could have been standing at the edge of the world. I leaned against Feniul’s haunch to take off my slippers and empty some of the sand out of them. Hating the feeling of gritty feet crammed into shoes, I left them off, stuffing them into the top of one of the travel baskets that adorned Feniul.

  “Niva and Amacarin are agreed: this wind is too strong,” Luka said, coming over to me. He leaned against Feniul, his arm just barely touching mine. “Dawn will be the best time to cross; the air will be clearer and they will be able to see a good place to land and make our stand. ”

  He actually sounded eager, as though he thought we had a chance. On the flight from the cave to the shore, I had realised that all we were doing was looking for a good place to die. There was no way that we could defeat the army of Citatie with the meagre forces at our command. Even if the Roulaini and Feravelan dragons joined us, how many could there be? During the Dragon War, I had seen perhaps twenty-five dragons all told, and several of them had not survived.

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  “You’re awfully quiet,” Luka said.

  He couldn’t see my face in the dark.

  “This isn’t going to work,” I said. “They’re going to slaughter us. ”

  Putting an arm around my shoulders, Luka held me tightly. “It will be all right, Creel, you’ll see. Shardas will meet us here; it will inspire the dragons. It might even force a few of the collared ones to resist the alchemy. ”

  Wrinkling my forehead, I thought about this. Ria and Niva had told us that it was possible to resist, though it took all one’s strength. But it would likely be little things, like refusing to flame someone, or changing direction just slightly to carry them away from the fight. Still, it might be enough.

  But then I confided to Luka my deepest fear.

  “What if Shardas doesn’t come?” I clenched my fists just thinking of it. Because if he didn’t, it meant that he was still too injured to fly. Or had done himself irreparable damage in the attempt. I said this to Luka as well.

  Whipping his neck around so that his head loomed over us, Feniul breathed sulphur at us in shock. “How can you doubt Shardas?”

  In the darkness I felt myself blushing. “Well, you’ve seen his wings …”

  “Shardas the Gold is our king because he is the strongest and wisest of us. He would not make a promise that he could not keep. He would not sit idly by while we suffered, fighting for our freedom. ”

  “I understand that, Feniul. But he was angry and upset, and he may have misjudged how badly he was still hurt. ”

  “Shardas wouldn’t do that,” Feniul said with simple conviction. “He’ll be here in time, you’ll see. ”

  Wishing that I was as certain, I helped to unburden the dragons and we laid out bedrolls for the night. Lying in a hollow beside Marta, I slept like the dead until the first gold and pink light of dawn woke us.

  As I stumbled about the beach, feeling muzzy and out of sorts, I squinted towards the far Roulaini shore. It was said that on a clear day you could see Roulain from Citatie, and vice versa. I supposed that the white line at the horizon was the Roulaini shore, with a fuzzy, dark smudge beyond it that was probably trees. And the glinting gold thing was probably …

  “Shardas!”

  The golden speck I had spied on the horizon was indeed a dragon, coming towards us in strange bursts of speed. We all gathered at the edge of the water to watch. I felt a range of emotions: joy, relief, anticipation. And then they were all pushed aside by a growing sense of concern. Something was wrong. He was listing from side to side with each flap of his wings and sinking towards the waves of the strait.

  “Help him,” I cried to the other dragons.

  At once Amacarin and Feniul were in the air, speeding towards Shardas. On the beach, Niva began pushing at the sand with her tail, whipping it from side to side in great sweeps that nearly blinded me until I pulled the collar of my tunic up over my face.

  “What are you doing?”

  I heard the other humans around me crying out and rustling as they, too, covered their faces.

  “Making a flat space for him to land,” Niva said as though it should have been obvious. “Move aside, all of you. ”

  I pulled my tunic down so I could see where I was moving to. I glanced out over the strait as I clambered up a small dune to get out of the way. They were much closer now, with Feniul on one side and Amacarin on the other. Shardas’s wings were spread across their backs, and with their forelegs linked they were flying clumsily towards us. At first I thought it was the rosy light of dawn that changed the colours of their scales. Then I squinted, looking more carefully, and what I saw made my heart shudder in my chest.

  Blood was dripping from Shardas’s wings and running down the flanks of the two dragons that supported him.

  “Marta, help me,” I said, scrambling back down the dune to our baggage. “We’ll need every cloak and tunic and scrap of cloth. ”

  “He bleeds,” Ria said i
n a wondering voice.

  “Yes, he bleeds,” I snapped, not in the mood for her awestruck expression. “Now help or get out of the way. ”

  It seemed for ever before the three male dragons skidded on to the beach. At once Feniul and Amacarin rolled out of the way so that Shardas could stretch his wings out and let them at last come to rest. I ran to his head, stroking the scaly muzzle I loved so well.

  “You great fool,” I said, my voice choked with tears.

  “And a fine morning to you, too, Creel,” Shardas said, his familiar rumble even rockier with pain.

  “What have you done to your wings?”

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  “Nothing good, though I hardly dare to look,” he said, heaving a huge sigh.

  “Good morning, sir,” Luka said respectfully, coming over. “Is there anything we can get for you?”

  “A nice basket of peaches would not be amiss,” Shardas said. “But I suppose there are none to be had in these parts and in this season. ” He chuckled, then coughed. “Some fresh water, perhaps. ”

  One of the newly uncollared females grabbed up a barrel that we carried as a dragon drinking cup and went at once to the stream where we were getting our water. She filled the barrel and brought it to Shardas with humble apologies.

  “What have you to apologise for?” He lowered his muzzle to drink.

  “It should be finer,” she mumbled.

  “Nonsense,” he replied after he had drained it. “What is your name, madam?”

  “Gala, Your Majesty. ”

  “Thank you, Gala. And you may call me Shardas. ”

  “Shardas, this is all very nice,” I hissed as Gala bobbed away. “But what are we to do with you? The Citatian army is going to be moving towards Feravel soon, and we were supposed to cross the strait today, to join the dragons of Roulain on the shore you just came from!”

  “And so you shall,” he said, while around us the uncollared Citatian dragons murmured in shock at the way I was speaking to their king.

  I saw Feniul dip his head to whisper something to Ria, who nodded thoughtfully. Probably telling her that I was quite mad, and so my foibles were tolerated.

  “Prince Luka,” Shardas said. “You will lead as many dragons as you can assemble in a stand on the Roulaini shore. The area directly opposite us would be an ideal place. ”

  “Yes, sir,” Luka said.

  “Look to Niva as your second in command,” Shardas added.

  “I accept the duty, Shardas,” Niva said. “But I must agree with Creel: you are in no state to fly, and lying here in the open you will be directly beneath the flight path of the Citatian army. Something must be done. ”

  “As soon as I catch my breath, I shall continue on to Pelletie,” Shardas said easily, as though Marta and Tobin weren’t frantically piling our clothing and blankets over his wings in an effort to stop the bleeding.

  “Why?” I was squeezing one of his talons as though I could heal his wounds through force of will.

  “Because Krashath will remain behind,” Shardas said complacently. “He will not dare come to Feravel to face me. That is why I came here. I will fight him, and kill him. ” He lifted his head to look at Luka again. “You need only hold your position until I have defeated Krashath,” he instructed.

  “Shardas, your wings are in tatters,” I reminded him.

  “Then I shall fight on the ground. ”

  Letting go of his talon, I stepped away. Staring out at the water, I ran my thin braids through my fingers. He was worse than my brother, Hagen, at his most stubborn, worse than Luka. Shardas was determined to fight Krashath, even if it killed him, even if his wings looked like shredded silk …

  I turned around and walked back to Shardas and Luka. I began to strip off the blankets that Marta had just put on his right wing. The damage was not bad: the bleeding had mostly stopped, and though the tears in the wing membrane looked raw and red, the wings were stronger than they had been when I had last seen them.

  “Wing injuries bleed a great deal,” Shardas said. “Even superficial ones. ”

  “This is what we will do,” I told them. “Luka, you will take the others to Roulain and make a stand as we planned. Amacarin and Marta will stay here with me and Shardas. ” Normally I would have wanted Feniul, ditherer that he was, but I hated to keep him from his new love, Ria. “We will get Shardas ready to fight Krashath. ”

  “What are you hatching in that brain of yours?” Shardas tilted his head at me.

  “Your wings are no good,” I told him. “So I’m going to make you some. ”

  All the Silk in the World

  “Well, I can never go back to the Pelletie market,” Marta announced as she slithered off Gala’s back. In the end, Gala had stayed with us instead of Amacarin. She was anxious about her hatchlings and had no experience fighting, whereas Amacarin enjoyed setting things alight. Marta began to untie the cords that held bale after bale of silk on the dragon’s back.

  “Why?” I bit off a thread and held up the seam I had just sewn to check for flaws. Satisfied, I laid it aside.

  She blinked at me, as though looking for sarcasm in the question. “Because only a crazy person buys ten full bolts of gold silk on the same day,” she said, after realising that I was serious.

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  As I picked up another piece of silk and threaded my needle, I had to admit she was right. When I had made my trip to the market earlier in the day, I hadn’t paid too much attention to the stares I had attracted. But even I had seen the wisdom of sending Marta for the second half of the silk.

  “Well,” I said, offering her some dim consolation. “Do you really want to come back to Citatie after this?”

  She shuddered and began sorting out the silk she had bought. While Marta sorted, I continued to sew together the carefully measured and cut pieces that I had been working on feverishly for most of the day.

  We were encamped in a grove of the ubiquitous olive trees, just south of the beach where we had met Shardas. The trees were barely dense enough to cover the two dragons, who could not sit upright unless they first checked for any signs of dragon patrol. Luka and Tobin had been reluctant to leave us, but we had insisted: someone had to lead the Roulaini blockade, and the odds were that the average human soldier wouldn’t take orders from a dragon. Besides, I had pointed out, neither Luka nor Tobin could sew, which meant they would only be getting in our way. I bit off another thread, and held my work up to Shardas.

  “Stretch out your left wing,” I ordered. “Gala, could you help me, please?”

  She hurried to help as I spread the silk over the top of Shardas’s left wing. My measurements had been correct, and the silk lay perfectly over the wing. It was not quite finished – there were still two sections of wing membrane to cover – but I had wanted to check the fit before I continued. I was trying to sew the silk so that the seams corresponded with the bones and joints of Shardas’s wings; the smooth areas of silk would replace the missing membrane. As much as it pained me, I would be using the holes from the wounds in his wings to pass cord through and tie the silk down.

  “Before you get much further, we’d better test this part,” Shardas said. “Not just the fit, but how it feels when I fly. ”

  “All right. ” I had sewn cords along the edges of the segments. Hands shaking for fear that I would cause more pain or do more damage, I slipped them carefully through the holes and tied them gently in place. The holes in his wings were healing, I assured myself. One day, his wings would be healed.

  If Krashath didn’t kill him tomorrow.

  “Does that feel secure?”

  He stretched the wing and then contracted it. “Yes. ”

  “Does it hurt?”

  He blew gently on my hair. “No, it doesn’t hurt. ”

  Then he moved a little away from me. Lifting his head cautiously above the tree line, he scanned t
he area for signs of a dragon patrol or wandering humans. When he saw that it was clear, he reared up on to his hind legs, stretching out both his wings and flapping them in the hot, still air.

  The silk on the left wing cupped, dragging at him and making a flapping noise. My heart sank. This would not work.

  Shardas folded his wings and crouched down beside me again. He didn’t need to say anything, but gave me a sympathetic look as I began to untie the silk from his wing. To my embarrassment, I found myself near tears.

  “That didn’t look right,” Marta said, coming over to us, bright red silk spangled with mirrors trailing from her hands. “It was catching the wind. ”

  “Yes, thank you, Marta,” I said, not caring how rude I sounded.

  She opened and then shut her mouth, her cheeks colouring. “It was a good idea, Creel,” she said meekly.

  “It was a good idea, Creel,” Shardas echoed. “But things will turn out all right, regardless. Krashath wants to fight me. If it means he has to stay on the ground, he will. ” He shifted position so that I could better untie the rest of my failed scheme.

  “No he won’t,” I said, choking on tears. “He’ll stay in the air and burn you to ash. He won’t fight fair, Shardas, you know that. ”

  “May I say something?”

  We all looked at Gala, who hovered nearby. The light filtering through the olive leaves made her bronze scales glow. She really was a beautiful dragon. I rather thought that Amacarin had been giving her an admiring eye before he had left.

  “Of course you may, Gala,” Shardas said, ever polite.

  “Perhaps if you put that cloth on the underside of his wings,” she suggested. “Like a kite. ”

  We all just looked at her for a moment.

  “A kite?” Marta’s fair brow wrinkled. “What’s that?”

  “Oh!” Gala shook herself. “I once lived in the Spice Isles,” she explained. “Kites are common there. They are … constructions of cloth or paper on light frames that … glide on the air. ”

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  Still not really comprehending, I looked at the cloth that Marta and I held, and then at Shardas’s wings. Gala seemed to know what she was talking about, but I couldn’t picture it.

  “I think I know what she means,” Shardas said. “I recall seeing such things some years ago. ” He nodded his head slowly. “If the cloth were on the underside, it would catch the wind and be pressed against my wings properly. ” He paused. “Although if I were to backwing …”