“When you were born, I took measures to make sure that your mother and I would have no more children together. I could not part from your mother any more than my hand could part from my arm. We were a horde — the three of us. I could no more leave the two of you than Elevera could leave any of the dragons in the weyr.
“I had hoped that Galelin was mistaken or exaggerating, or altogether lying about your mother’s heritage. But as you grew up and expressed an affinity for the dragons, with each passing day I grew more and more certain of the man’s story.”
Mardoc lifted his staff from his lap and planted the end of it on the floor beside him with a thud that startled Trysten.
“Be honest with me now, Little Heart. How far do your abilities extend?”
Trysten sat back in her chair. The whole weyr felt unmoored, loosened as if it had been lifted up during the story and placed on the back of the largest dragon ever to live. It was spreading its wings now, and all that had been solid and dependable was nothing more than air, a simple distance between Trysten and the hard stone of truth.
“Quick, now.”
Trysten drew in a deep breath and glanced up at the shelf above the table. The scroll from the King lay up there, flattened and folded and stuffed into one of the drier, stiffer books that never seemed to be of much use.
“You see,” Mardoc continued, “I must know about your abilities. You should have never been born. I should have never courted your mother. And when you tried to become Dragoneer, I knew that it would invite hardship and sorrow for you. That is why I stood in your way. I wanted to protect you from my indiscretions. If you were to become Dragoneer, and word got out, then I knew it would not be long before word made it out that Aerona weyr had a female dragoneer, and once word reached the mother city, the King would send someone to investigate. If the investigator discovers the truth, we will lose everything. The horde. The weyr. Everything.
“I tried to get Paege to be the Dragoneer because the two of you have always been close, and I fancied that you might marry someday. In that way, Paege would have a son to pass the weyr onto, and it would remain in our family, if indirectly. But again, life was to show me what a blind fool I am. Your powers are far greater than I suspected. I doubt there was anything that could have prevented Elevera from bonding with you. I deliberately withheld information from you about your abilities in the hope that a little humility would season your powers. At that point, I was thinking of the legend of the dragon lords, and I was feeling quite concerned. And every time I saw you in the air, I knew with greater certainty that the legends are true. My daughter is a Dragon Lord.”
A tremble shook Trysten. She blinked away tears as her father leaned forward onto his staff.
“I had hoped that word of you, and your abilities wouldn’t make it back to the mother city until Galelin and I could figure out what to do, but that cad Nillard has undoubtedly upset things. The fact that the King has yet to respond is causing me great concern. I suspect that he is sending another horde up here to replace ours. And I fear for what will happen to you, Little Heart.”
Her father leaned forward, opened his hand, and rested it palm-up on top of the table as if asking, waiting for her to hand him something.
“Please. Tell me.”
Trysten leaned forward. She extended her hand and took her father’s in her own. A hot tear rolled down her cheek as if he had squeezed it from her as he clutched her hand. All the strength and might she knew of her father before the accident was there again. It ran beneath his flesh, simmered through his muscles and rang off his bones as he stared at her with a wall of intensity and concern.
“I have to go,” Trysten said, her voice hardly over a whisper.
Her father’s hand tightened around her own as if he were deciding never to let her go, never to release her, to keep her and protect her from a world that never understood them, that feared them for no good, sensible reason.
He nodded, and his hand slipped away. He sat back in his chair, a hand curled around his staff, and once again he was Fallen Mardoc of Aerona weyr.
“When you return, then,” he said. “And you will return.”
Trysten stood from her chair and wiped her palms over her cheeks. How many times had she sat where he sat now? How many times had she watched him rise from behind his table after dismissing her, ready to head out of the den and on to some important matter?
How horrible it was to see the tables turn. At that moment, in that very second, she would have given it all up, every bit of it to wrench the tables back to the way they were, so that he could be strong and vital, the Dragoneer lecturing the daughter he feared would be greater than even his imagination, someday.
“When I return,” she said, and lest she say anything more and completely uncork the dam of tears, she stalked past him and out of the den. She thundered down the stairs and took a deep breath. She drew in the calm courage of the dragons. By the time she hit the bottom step, she was almost as much dragon as human in her demeanor, solid and collected as the dragons who patiently waited to be underway.
Elevera stood ready for her when she approached. The weyrmen had saddled her. Her bow and two quivers rested on their appropriate hooks. Rations and a bandage kit waited in a small pouch. Bags of water sloshed like a whisper in their skins as Trysten took the reins and nodded thanks to the weyrman. She led her dragon out into the yard where the other hordesmen waited, all standing next to their mounts and staring at Trysten. Issod, having returned from the watch, stood with Verillium’s reins in hand.
The entire village had gathered around the yard. As Trysten exited the side door of the weyr, all of the villagers knelt, except for the overseer, who approached her with a sword and scabbard balanced upon a large, plush pillow of gold felt.
“Trysten of Aerona weyr,” the overseer called out as they approached each other, Trysten with Elevera in tow. “Our village is in jeopardy. May we call upon you? May we place our lives in your hands and upon the wings of your capable horde?”
The overseer stopped at the end of his question, as he had done every time he had seen her father off to battle.
And as she had seen her father do, she led her dragon up to the overseer.
“Overseer Tuse of Aerona, it is my honor, as it has always been my family’s honor, to take your lives into my hands and onto the wings of my horde. I can no more turn you, or anyone in Aerona away, than I can turn away my own kin. You are my kith. Your life is mine, and I will protect it as such.”
As the words left her mouth, she pictured her father speaking them, standing tall and strong and handsome in his Aerona riding uniform with the dark gray Aeronwind behind him like his massive, winged shadow, as if he were far more than a human body could ever contain.
Overseer Tuse lowered himself on one, cracking knee. He lifted the pillow. “Take this sword, Trysten of Aerona. It is the fighting spirit of our village. May it call the wind to your wings and the aim to your arrows.”
Trysten released Elevera’s reins to reach forward and lift the sword and scabbard from the pillow. She buckled the scabbard to her side, then drew the sword and held it before her. She had never seen it unsheathed up close before, and the detail etched into the blades arrested her heart. Each side of the blade was engraved with a motif that resembled the cables that ran up the sleeves of their sweaters. In some places, the cables appeared to be twining rivers. In other places, they appeared to be twining dragons, all running together before disappearing at the point.
“Rise and cheer!” Trysten called out, her voice loud and solid. “Your voice is our wind!”
The villagers stood. All around the yard, the people she had grown up with yelled and cheered. They raised hands and fists to the sky. They shouted out wishes of luck and victory. Among them, Trysten picked out Jalite and Assina and the rest of the armor guild standing and cheering. All the guilds-women had their hair done up in hasty braids. Kaylar, in her hordeswoman sweater, waved from behind them.
; Trysten gave a nod to them, flashed a grin, and then turned back to Elevera, who knelt without a word from Trysten. She lifted a foot into the stirrup, and with her free hand, grasped the edge of the saddle. Holding the sword made things difficult, but she’d seen her father do this a number of times. She counted to three, then pulled herself up, swung a leg over the saddle, and landed in her seat, the sword still held aloft and weighing heavily on the muscles in her arms.
The hordesmen followed suit. With a renewed round of cheers, they took their saddles, unfastened their bows and quivers, and slung each over their shoulders.
Trysten peered ahead into the mountains. The sun had climbed over the horizon. The light lit the lowest peaks as the taller ones disappeared into the gray cloud cover before it dissipated in the dawn light. The gray band grew shorter each day as if it were a drape slowly being pulled up to reveal some ghastly surprise, the first hints of which awaited them now.
She glanced back toward the weyr, and there in the doorway stood both her father and her mother. Her father stood tall, a hand on his staff. The other hand was wrapped around her mother’s waist. She stood beside him and smiled and waved. Trysten grinned back, then felt a flash of pain at the realization that she didn’t know. Her father and Galelin had kept her heritage from her. Would she dare break it to her?
It was her right. She deserved to know. Just as soon as Trysten got back.
With a flick from her heels, she urged Elevera forward across the grass. She leveled the tip of the sword at the mountains ahead. “Hordesmen! Your bravery has been proven beyond all doubt in these last few weeks. All of you are seasoned veterans who have flown in the fighting season. I know that I can trust my life to each of you, that I can trust this village to each of you. You have proven in seasons past your courage, your skill. Even those who have not started their lives with us, in our weyr, have proven skill and courage for they have survived against incredible odds to fight again, to take their vengeance and put their lives on the line for this weyr and this village. Your bravery and courage are not in question. What makes you among the finest hordesmen to ever ride is that you have not only proven yourselves in battle but that you have the courage to cast aside any prejudice that our society may have heaped upon you. You see me, and you see generations of tradition cast aside. But you also see a new future being born. Our new brothers have told us of an enemy that fights like no other. And so to defeat them, we will defend ourselves like no other. Your courage is greater than any hordesmen before you. Today, we will make sure that each of your names is forever known to the hordesmen behind you. You are the finest people to ever take to the saddle, and you ride the finest dragons who have ever flown for a weyr. The day will be ours. Victory will be our light. Legend will be our shadow!”
With relief, Trysten let the sword sweep down, past Elevera’s shoulder.
Buoyed on a great cheer, Elevera leaped into the air, her magnificent wings spread and pushed down as if to wrap themselves around and protect the entire village. Trysten struggled to lift the sword and stuff it back into its scabbard as her dragon propelled them up into the sky. As she slid the sword back into place, she glanced over her shoulder, and there, behind her, twenty-five dragons leaped into the glory of the sky. To her right, as a V formation took shape, her gaze lingered for a moment on Paege, who gripped the edge of Leya’s saddle and held tight. He returned her look, but his face was set and unreadable. He was a stone, and whatever he felt at the moment, it was hidden behind the wall that men build to protect their emotions.
As Trysten turned back around, she thought of her father’s wish that she should marry him.
She shook her head.
Chapter 42
The village fell behind them. Below, the rising sun glinted off the rushing, tumbling waters of the River Gul as it wound through the hills and often ran white as if trying to shake the mountain chill from its shoulders. Her gaze followed the river until she lost it behind a set of mountains.
Her mind raced, charged forward in starts and stops. She thought of her father’s revelation, of her heritage and what it meant. Her father had called her a dragon lord. She then cast the thoughts aside and forced herself to concentrate fully on the landscape ahead between the hills and mountains.
The thoughts lunged back. What would she do about the approaching prince?
What would she do? That was simple. She would protect the village.
Ahead, movement crested a large hill covered in stone and heather. It spread along the crest and moved into the air. A horde of dragons approached them.
Every inch of Trysten tightened at the sight of them. Elevera grew tense, like a bowstring ready to snap the horde behind her into the heart of the enemy. Trysten crouched lower, then quickly surveyed the situation. Twenty dragons approached them. A hint of a grin pressed onto her face. Twenty Western hordesmen against twenty-six from Aerona weyr. Those were good odds. Also, meeting them out in the open, on hills with air currents familiar to her dragons gave them several distinct advantages. Too much confidence could be dangerous, but so much in their favor should hopefully steady the nerves of the Hollin hordesmen, who were undoubtedly a bit jittery with the memories of their last battle and the thought of facing the same enemy again.
Trysten lifted her arm into the air and drew it in two wide circles before pointing at the enemy. She thrust her arm up into the air, then angled it back towards the sun. With a flick of her heels, Elevera began to climb and gain altitude. In addition to everything else in their favor, the Aerona horde would attack at the sun’s angle, keeping the sun at their back to blind the enemy and shield the riders from Western arrows.
The landscape dropped away as they climbed. Undoubtedly they had been spotted by the enemy, but they did not appear to change their tactic. The enemy horde picked up elevation, but they were not trying to out climb the Aerona horde. Trysten’s brow tightened. Why? That would be the expected answer to her tactic. If they had to fight with the sun in their faces, then they should be trying to climb above the Aerona horde so that the sun wasn’t at a direct angle, and they would have the advantage of gravity to guide their arrows while it shielded them somewhat from Aerona’s own.
Were they trying to slip beneath? If they flew under the Aerona horde altogether, it would force Trysten to order pursuit. They would turn around, and suddenly find the sun in their faces. Also, with fresher dragons, the Western horde might try to run for Aerona and duplicate the attack strategy that brought down Hollin.
As she watched the Western horde for a hint of their strategy, a shout caught her attention.
Issod waved wildly at Trysten. He then motioned to the south. In the distance, just over the horizon, another horde of dragons sailed along. They couldn’t be the prince’s dragons. They would come in from the east, and this horde was heading north. Then the shape of the horde changed. It shifted, leveled out some. It had spotted the Aerona horde and was now on an intercept course.
Trysten’s jaw tightened. She couldn’t count the individual dragons at this distance, but it appeared to be a normal-sized horde. The Western horde’s plan drew into sharp focus. Such sharp focus that it cleaved away her numerous advantages. The second horde was also from the Western Kingdom. The two hordes were to rendezvous, but when the first horde saw what she was trying to do, they kept reeling out enough rope for her to hang herself and horde. Her plan of gaining elevation and keeping the sun to their backs had only served to reveal their presence and intentions to the approaching second horde. Soon it would be forty dragons to her twenty-five. By the wilds.
Her grip tightened on the front edge of the saddle. Her knuckles blanched. A brief tremble shook her in the chill morning air. They were outnumbered nearly two to one. On top of that, at least one, and possibly both of the Western hordes was led by a dragon lord such as herself.
Her eyes drifted closed. She took a deep breath. The air sank to the core of her. Elevera’s powerful shoulders shifted and moved beneath her. The air whooshed a
bout her as the dragon cupped it in her expansive wings and pushed it down and away from them. She leaned forward and placed her palms against the cool scales of her dragon’s neck. The breath she held passed through pursed lips, slipped through her, from her, and was whipped away by the wind in her face.
The odds were against them, but she had a good horde, a solid crew of riders and dragons who knew the landscape. The Hollin hordesmen had the experience of a previous battle. The Aerona hordesmen were fighting for their friends and family. All of them were fighting for the kingdom. They had far more to gain, far more to win than the Western hordes.
Trysten opened her eyes. Her gaze narrowed in on the horde ahead of them. The advantages still belonged to Aerona weyr. The day would be theirs. The Western hordes were still separated by several miles. The Aerona horde had a few minutes to engage the first horde before the second one reached them. That would be enough time. It had to be.
Trysten waved her left arm in the air, then made a forward, pinwheeling motion to indicate that the horde should charge ahead at all available speed. She kicked Elevera in the sides with her heels, then flicked them forward several times. In response, the gold dragon surged ahead, her wings beating hard at the air as if to grab the very sky and shove it behind them.
As they approached, the beating wings of the first horde began to slow. They were stalling, angling for time in order to allow their reinforcements to arrive. Bravery belonged to the Aerona weyr. It was perhaps the greatest advantage they held. She pinwheeled her arm forward again and urged Elevera onward. A glance to the south showed that the second horde pushed hard as well.
Trysten’s heart beat faster. They’d have very little time to deal with the first horde before the second fell upon them. She thrust her arm into the air again and ordered a concentrated attack on the Western Dragoneer. If they could take out the rider or his dragon in the first pass, then they could take advantage of the resulting confusion and possibly neutralize half the horde before the reinforcements arrived.
The Dragoneer Trilogy Page 26