Whose arrows had finished those men?
Tyber’s heart thudded in his chest. He swallowed hard and watched as the body of the rider drifted to the side, then rolled off the horse and disappeared into the grass.
He’d never seen a dead man before. He had watched his mother die, quiet and pale. She’d said some soft, strange things, then drifted off to sleep, her eyes closing as if unable to resist a nap. His father collapsed, clutching her hand and burying his face in the blanket that covered her stomach.
But to see someone killed on purpose. He shook his head and struggled to draw in a breath as if his body had forgotten how. He looked away from the grass and glanced down the road ahead.
Fish and birds! The horses had been a distraction. Dragonjacks raced at the rear of the caravan, the dragons pumping their wings furiously, closing in.
“Ander!” Tyber screamed, his lungs suddenly remembering what they were for.
Chapter 21
Ander sat back in his saddle as if he’d been leaning forward to study Listico’s shoulder. He turned to Tyber, then his gaze followed Tyber’s pointing finger. He whistled shrilly, then motioned for everyone to look to the east.
Below, shouts began to ripple through the caravan. The mercenaries on horses brought their mounts around and raced for the rear of the caravan. Those stationed atop the wagons turned their attention away from the distraction and faced the real threat. They checked their crossbows and hefted the stocks to their shoulders.
“Stay clear of the caravan,” Tyber muttered to himself.
Olsid whistled, then whipped his arms through the air, commanding the horde to fall into formation. Ready bows.
Tyber inhaled slowly, the air cold and hard in his lungs as if he’d have to struggle for breath the rest of his life.
Merilyss plunged toward the dragonjacks, wings pumping hard as she took point, Wende behind her. The remaining dragons fell in on her flanks and began to form a V.
Again, Olsid ordered them to fall in. But this time he looked directly at Tyber and Rius.
“Come on, girl,” Tyber said, his voice sounding thin and weak to his own ears. He pulled on the lip, raked his heels up, and ended the command with a tap on her right shoulder, telling her to rise and turn to the left.
After loosing their arrows on the attackers on horseback, Olsid and the others had flown higher into the sky. They were much higher than Rius, moving swiftly through the air, holding a steady altitude. Both Rius and Listico quickly fell behind as they each struggled to rise to meet the horde.
Ander glanced back at Tyber. Rius would soon overtake Listico. Ander signaled for Tyber to follow orders, and then he pointed at Olsid.
Tyber nodded.
Ander held his palm flat before himself, closed it in a fist, shook it, then pointed to Tyber. Tyber returned the wish for good luck, then turned to the horde and the dragonjacks. He sat up straight in his saddle.
Was this it? Was Quall right and one of them would soon die? Would they limp back to the academy like Malcums’ horde? Walk around haunted and agitated, no longer taking joy in the drills? He thought of the pained and anxious look on Sundroe’s face as he sat in the parlor, knee jiggling, wiping his mouth as if he could hardly stand the tension building between Padrus and Ren.
No. It didn’t have to end like that. Not for them.
Tyber took a deep breath, packing the air into his lungs.
He glanced back at Ander and Listico. Now that he’d passed them, the quarrell that had struck Listico in the shoulder was plain to see. It had missed Ander’s calf by inches. Blood ran down the dragon’s scarlet scales, only slightly darker than her natural color. Her left foreclaw drooped, a bit limp as if it had gone numb on her.
And yet she charged upward into battle.
Tyber pulled his bow from the hook on the gusset.
Olsid signaled for something, but the beating of Merilyss’ wings and the bulk of her body hid the signals from Tyber. The recruits grabbed their bows and drew arrows in unison.
“Turn back,” Tyber whispered as he watched the dragonjacks. “By the eyes of the gods, can’t you see we mean it?”
The dragonjacks, on the same eleven dragons that had challenged them the other day, lifted their bows and drew arrows from quivers on their backs.
Tyber swallowed. It seemed inevitable now.
“May the gods see us to victory.”
Olsid loosed his arrow. The rest of the horde followed suit.
The arrows all fell short, dropping to the grass. A warning.
“Please,” Tyber pleaded, then looked to the sky above. The blue stretched over them, empty of the gods’ attention.
Olsid ordered them to rise. As they did, arrows erupted from the dragonjacks. Most of them fell away harmlessly. Maybe all. It felt as if Tyber had to look everywhere at once to see what was going on, and he simply could not.
Merilyss dipped slightly. The rest of the horde followed suit. Another wave of arrows crossed the closing gulf. One slipped through the wing of a dragonjack’s mount. The dragon jerked in the air as if shaking the arrow off. Arrows flew from the bows of the dragonjacks, raining on the horde.
The horde released another volley. One of the dragonjacks doubled over. His bow slipped from his hand and tumbled through the air, turning end over end before slipping beneath the grains of grass.
And then the dragons collided.
Wende shot away from the fray, rising over the clash as the horde traded arrows with the dragonjacks. A dragonjack collided with a dragon of the horde. Scales and wings twisted together. A blur of color dropped from the sky, then broke apart. The deep raspberry color of Loymoss swept away, wings solid as if stunned.
Quall remained upright in the saddle, twisting around to look at his attacker. The dragonjack he had tangled with leaned forward over his saddle, one hand clutching the lip, the other pressed against his belly where an arrow remained lodged. His dragon banked and slid, making for Ander and Listico.
Olsid called for the horde to regroup. An arrow struck Maybelle in her side, but fell away.
Two dragonjacks turned to Listico. Several turned toward Rius.
The bow trembled in Tyber’s fist. Why were they doing this? Why were these… monsters doing this to them?
The dragonjacks descending on Rius notched arrows.
“No,” Tyber said with a shake of his head. “No you don’t!”
He roared, “Not my dragon!”
He pulled an arrow from the quiver at his side as his heel dug into Rius’ right shoulder. She banked away from the advancing dragonjacks. With his heels, he directed Rius to level off. They flew away at a right angle to the dragonjacks on Rius’ tail, making them a harder target for the dragonjacks to hit.
But it put Tyber and Rius in the path of the two dragonjacks advancing on Listico.
Tyber loosed an arrow. His eyes widened as it zipped away from the bow, streaking through the air. At a person. An actual person.
If fell short, slipping beneath a violet dragon not much larger than Rius.
The violet dragon peeled away from his advance on Listico and headed for Rius. The dragonjack notched an arrow, yanked his bowstring back, and held his string until Tyber looked him right in the eye.
The man let go. The arrow disappeared.
Pain exploded in Tyber’s left shoulder, near his heart, wrenching him around in the saddle. The bow fell from his left hand and spun away as if it were floating in the air before it disappeared into the grass.
Tyber looked at his shoulder. A nick in the leather armor showed where the arrow hit. But it hadn’t penetrated.
“Tyber!” Ander called.
Tyber lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Rius’ neck. Another arrow zipped past him. The dragonjack reached back and drew another. He held it, waiting as the distance between them closed.
Tyber unwrapped his arms and planted his palms firmly against either side of Rius’ neck.
A rumble built, then firebreath erupte
d from Rius' jaw. It billowed out in a brilliant, white-hot display like a fiery lance as the dragonjack neared.
The dragonjack’s arrow flew wide, and the dragonjack grappled with his saddle, banking his dragon away to his right.
Rius swept down on the rider and dragon, nearly on top of them. The man twisted his head around, then tried to dodge as Rius’ jaws closed on him.
Her head dipped away, then jerked back as the rider’s scream cut short.
Tyber’s heart nearly stopped as he eyed the blood smeared across his dragon’s muzzle.
The violet dragon floated away, clearing the battle. Her rider slumped in her saddle, no longer able to guide her.
Two of the dragonjacks that had initially started after Tyber were still in pursuit. One loosed an arrow. It passed beneath Rius’ wing on her downward stroke, and she swatted it to the ground.
Above and to the east, arrows flew as Olsid and the others chased three dragonjacks. Wende flew in circles, high above the horde.
Farther back, the pale, ghostly gray of Emmah swooped into a bank, straightened out, and flew hard toward the south before banking back to the north. Fang hung limply from the saddle, his arms outstretched as if reaching for the ground, as if he could still pull himself to safety if he could just reach.
“By the gods,” Tyber whispered. “By the gods. Fang. Fang! Fang!”
With a grunt, Tyber leaned on the saddle lip and raked his heels down Rius’ shoulders. The dragon dropped into a steep dive. He glanced over his shoulder. The two dragonjacks in pursuit followed.
The ground rushed up. A flock of plains fowl lifted out of the grass and fled the rushing dragon.
“Up!” Tyber screamed, the cry ravaging his throat. “Up, Rius!” He tore at the lip and could not get his heels to her shoulders as they fell through the sky.
Her wings snapped out and twisted back, catching the wind and leveling them off with swift speed.
“Up! Up! Up!” Tyber continued to shout. Gravity shoved him back. His feet found the stirrups and he pushed, holding himself in the saddle, bracing himself for whatever came next.
Rius rose, climbing through the air until she was vertical, then she fell over backwards, twisting through a half barrel-roll and dropping again. Falling like a blue and black hammer out of the sky to smash the dragonjacks below.
They released arrows. Tyber didn’t track them. He stared at the closest rider, terror dawning on the dragonjack’s upturned face. They tried to break, to bank away, but Rius had them. He had no idea how to tell her what he needed her to do. But she was his horde. And they had hurt her as much as they had hurt Tyber.
She flung her wings wide. Her hindquarters dropped and the hammer struck. Tyber’s teeth rattled as Rius hit. Bones cracked. She shoved off, leaping toward the last dragonjack as the other fell away, twisting to the grass below.
The last dragonjack looked back at Tyber. He leaned forward, wrapped his arms around his dragon's neck and urged her on.
A storm of arrows drove down at an angle, plunging through the dragon’s wings and striking the rider. He slumped over, and his dragon banked off to the side with a screeching cry.
Shadows passed over the dragon. The horde sailed overhead. Olsid leaned over Merilyss’ side, the better to be in Tyber’s line of sight. He ordered everyone to ground.
Tyber looked over his shoulder. Listico spiraled toward the ground, Ander still sitting high in the saddle.
Chapter 22
Tyber banked Rius around. To the east, Wende and Emmah remained in the air. Beyond them, three dragons fled. Fang was obscured by his dragon’s body until she banked again. His arm slipped into view, still reaching, still waiting for someone to take his hand.
Tyber looked away, then landed near Listico, where Ander stood and inspected her shoulder.
As Rius grew still, Tyber fumbled with his restraints, recalling the odd sensation of weightlessness that had floated over him when he and Rius plummeted through the air, or when she flipped backwards and spun around.
Such small things men were when compared to dragons.
His restraints fell away. Wings snapped around him. Dragons landed and grass rustled, crunching beneath claws.
Tyber slid out of the saddle, landing in a crouch, then stood upright. He placed a hand on Rius’ shoulder. She looked back at him with her bloody maw.
He doubled over, clenching his stomach as he retched. His eyes watered as he fell to his knees. He heaved and heaved and still more came, leaving a vile and acrid trail along his throat.
He had killed. He had made a weapon of his own dragon, and he had killed.
He rocked forward, trembling. His mouth and nose burned. A tear ran from the tip of his nose and watered the mess before him.
A hand gripped his shoulder.
“Have you got it all out?” Ander asked.
“Rius,” Tyber whispered, still rocking.
“Have you got it all out?” Ander repeated.
Tyber nodded once.
The hand drew away.
“On your feet, Hordesman.”
Tyber looked up. The sun shone behind Ander. The breeze played through the proctor’s hair, sweeping it toward the east as if trying to tug his attention out there, to the tragedy stuck in the sky.
“Fang.”
“Stand up, Tyber. Tyber of Cadwaller.”
Tyber took a deep breath, and his stomach twisted at the smell of it all. He put one foot beneath himself, and then Ander held out his hand. Tyber grasped it and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet.
“You did what you had to do. What you were trained and commanded to do.”
Tyber wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He peered to the east, to the ghostly dot of Emmah, and below her, the faint specks of the dragonjacks in retreat.
He turned to Ander. “When do we go get those demon dogs?”
Ander nodded once, his face solemn. “There will be time for that, Hordesman. But first, we must see to our own.”
Ander strode away, and Tyber turned his attention again to the bloody face of Rius.
“Thank you,” he said.
~~~
Tyber’s jaw tightened against the pain in his shoulder as he placed another stone atop Fang’s cairn. He let go, then stood back. The pile of stones had grown higher than the grass now. That is what they had all agreed to. A Royal Hordesman had fallen along this empty stretch of road. His cairn would not disappear in the grass. He was worth such a pile of stones, no easy task to find among the grass and hard dirt.
The sobbing of women drifted past Tyber’s ear, carried on a breeze.
“He’d like this,” Ren said as he stepped up next to Tyber. “He’d get a kick out of it. That we did this for him.”
Tyber nodded. Weiss and Aunger each laid a stone atop the cairn and turned away.
“Did you get one?” Tyber asked.
“What?” Ren asked. “By the wilds man, I’ve carried probably a hundred stones back—”
“A dragonjack. Did you get one?”
The breeze brought the sobbing back to Tyber’s ears as if it would go on forever like the wild wind that never stopped.
Ren sighed. “I think so. I try to remember how it all happened. I can’t stop thinking about it, actually. And I keep trying to remember it all, but it’s a jumble in my head. I see the arrow tip. The rider on the horse. The arrows flying past them. And I know this sounds crazy, but I find I keep wishing to see my arrow miss. But I don’t know. I don’t know if I got one. Except that of course my arrows hit. They always hit. That’s why they keep me and my stupid dragon in this horde.”
“Don’t ever call her stupid again,” Tyber said, his voice calm and level, plated with lead.
“I always get my target. Always. So yeah, I got one. I got a couple. Dragons, too.”
“Maybelle has seen battle now. She’s not stupid.”
“No,” Ren said. “She’s not. May the gods see over her and us. None of us are stupid any longer. Especia
lly Fang.”
Tyber turned away and walked out through the grass. Mercenaries and others from the caravan searched for stones, carrying them to the fallen dragonjacks. Hewart hadn’t wanted them buried, but Olsid refused to leave until they were. Apparently Chanson wouldn’t rescind the orders, and so Hewart had commanded others to help them in order to speed things along.
Quall emerged from the grass ahead, struggling to lift a huge stone. His hands were covered in mud, the bottom of the stone dark with soil. He staggered forward under the weight of it. It must have taken him half an hour or more to dig it from the ground.
“Need a hand?” Tyber asked.
Quall shook his head and kept trundling forward, the stone clutched before him.
“Are you all right?” Tyber asked.
He stopped and waited as Quall approached. Tyber fell into step beside him as he passed.
“Look,” Tyber said, “I want to say I’m sorry. For not listening.”
Quall gasped, working to stifle a pant. “Fine,” he said. “It’s fine.” He shook his head again. His cheeks reddened slightly.
“You sure—”
“I said I’ve got it,” Quall said, his voice tight.
They walked in silence for a moment.
“What was it that you wanted to tell me?” Tyber asked.
Quall stopped. He dropped the stone to the ground with a thud, then crouched and touched his hand to the top of it, as if it were a fallen comrade in need of comfort.
Tyber crouched as well, resting his forearms on his knees.
“It’s too late,” Quall said as he peered at Tyber. “It’s too late. You wouldn’t listen—”
“I’m sorry.”
Quall shook his head again, then stood. He shoved his hands into the small of his back and stretched as he peered out at Fang’s cairn.
Hordesmen: The Wisdom of Dragons #4 Page 14