The Dragoneer Trilogy

by Vickie Knestaut

  Trysten pin-wheeled her arm through the air to get everyone’s attention, and Elevera released a roar that licked with fire to complete the job. As the hordesmen turned to her, she signaled for two of them to follow. Immediately, Paege and Rast broke formation to join her. The doves scattered through the hole created in the wall of dragons that had penned them in.

  Trysten, Paege, and Rast swooped down over the heads of the fleeing prisoners. One of the prisoners glanced up as the mid-morning shadows of dragons darkened the ground. He shouted something in the foreign tongue of the Westerners.

  With a sweep of her arm, Trysten signaled for Paege and Rast to swing around and come back at the prisoners. She wanted the dragons to stop the running men from getting any further so that the pursuing villagers could catch up.

  Trysten dug her right heel into Elevera’s shoulder. The dragon swept to the left and swung around with Paege and Rast right behind. They glided low over the heather and broken stone that formed the ground around the village.

  The prisoners kept running, not slowing down.

  Behind them, Trysten watched as one of the villagers stopped, drew an arrow from a quiver, and took aim at the prisoners.

  “No!” she shouted. “Stop!” She couldn’t allow the villagers to harm the prisoners. She needed to know more about The Second Horde and their attacks, and the prisoners were her only hope for information. Elevera surged forward on her own, without any input from Trysten beyond a wish to stop the villager.

  An arrow zipped past the prisoner, struck a stone, then skipped off into the heather. As the villager drew a second arrow, Elevera undulated up and over the prisoner, clearing him, but then bringing her body down to block the next arrow.

  The villager immediately lowered his bow as Trysten motioned for him to drop it. She then banked hard and turned her attention back to the prisoners.

  Sone had snatched one of the fleeing men in her claw and now carried him aloft, dangling and struggling not to fall out of his tunic. The other prisoner had flung himself to the ground ahead of Rast’s dragon. He struggled to his feet, but the pursuing guard would have him in a moment.

  The third prisoner, the one Elevera had shielded, continued to race for the mountains.

  Elevera leveled out and skimmed over the ground. She quickly closed the distance between herself and the prisoner. The man didn’t glance back but kept running straight ahead as fast as he could.

  At the last second, Elevera twisted her wings back and gave a tremendous shove at the air that sent her upwards. Her tail lashed out and caught the prisoner square in the back. As she banked away, the last prisoner lay sprawled in the heather. Two villagers raced to apprehend him, but it was clear they could not get to him in time to stop another escape.

  Trysten brought Elevera back around in a tight circle and guided her to the ground while scrambling to untie the straps that held her in the saddle. The moment Elevera’s claws settled among the stones, Trysten jumped from the dragon’s back. The prisoner had pushed himself up to his hands and knees and began to struggle back to his feet. Trysten raced for him, and just as he found his footing, she launched herself and landed on the man’s back, driving him to the ground.

  As she rolled off of him, an elbow snapped into her ribs. She grunted and fell away. Stones dug into her flesh and heather scratched her legs. She shoved herself to her knees as the man staggered to his feet. Blood smeared his face and anger burned in his eyes as he regarded Trysten.

  “Chey eck tassa ,” the man growled, his hands clenched into fists.

  Elevera roared, and flame licked the air behind the man. He turned and backpedaled, then tripped and fell again as the two villagers raced up and grabbed him.

  Trysten leaped to her feet and whirled on the man who shot the arrow.

  “What in the wilds happened here?” she demanded. “Why did you shoot an arrow at that man?”

  The archer blinked. His eyes traveled from Trysten to the prisoner and back. “He’s dangerous. He and his mates overpowered the guards. Knocked them out cold before they made a run for it.”

  “They were running away from the village. They weren’t going to hurt anyone.”

  The archer recoiled. “They already did. They hurt the guards. And if I’m not mistaken, either he or one of his mates killed some of our own, didn’t they? They’re dangerous. We can’t let them—”

  “Enough!” Trysten snapped. “Take them back to the cottage. Put a third guard on duty at both cottages. I don’t want—”

  The prisoner spat at Trysten’s feet. A tooth bounced off a stone. He glowered at Trysten and shouted something that none of them understood.

  “Don’t hurt them again,” she sighed. “I need to be able to speak to them as soon as we figure out how.”

  The archer snorted. “We can’t talk to them any more than we can talk to the goats. They’re animals, they are.”

  “Stop! These men rode dragons in battle. You will not treat them poorly as long as they are in Aerona.”

  “I dare say they wouldn’t return the favor. If they get hold of one of us —”

  “Then do a better job of guarding them!”

  The archer blinked and swallowed. The prisoner shouted something again, then tried to shake off the villagers who pinned his arms behind his back. In return, they wrenched his arms higher until the man grimaced and leaned forward. He seethed through clenched teeth.

  “Fetch Galelin,” Trysten said. “Have him see to their wounds. Again, they are not to be hurt.”

  The archer stared a second longer, then nodded to his companion. Together, with more roughness than Trysten had wanted to see, they hustled the men back toward Aerona, where a group of villagers had gathered to gawk. As the prisoners approached, the villagers parted and gave a wide berth.

  At the edge of the crowd, Tuse, the village overseer, folded his arms over his chest and stared at Trysten. Even at this distance, she could see that the man was none too pleased, and it wasn’t with the guards that he was unhappy. He pointed at her, then pointed at the heart of the village, to where the council chamber sat. He nodded once, then started toward the center of the village himself.

  Trysten took a deep breath. A mild pain grew where the prisoner’s elbow had jabbed her. She turned away from the crowd and pressed lightly at the spot. She would bruise, but her ribs were unbroken. She returned to Elevera, who watched the retreating men with great malice in her eyes. She would have snapped off the prisoner’s head if Trysten hadn’t forbidden it.

  Chapter 2

  The council chamber always sounded more impressive than it was. In reality, it was a large, circular stone building that would house most of the villagers in the event of an attack or disaster. It was what small villages did for a stronghold if they didn’t have perimeter walls. As Trysten studied it and noted how quickly the roof would catch fire under the breath of a Western dragon, she realized she was delaying. She squared her shoulders, then entered the old building.

  At the end of a short hall, Tuse sat at a table nearly identical to the one in her den. He put aside a scroll of parchment and motioned to one of several chairs on the other side of his table. He leaned back and waited as Trysten took a seat.

  “We are lucky no one was killed today,” Tuse said as soon as Trysten sat. “We can’t hold these prisoners indefinitely.”

  Trysten nodded. Her braids shifted against the leather vest she wore over her sweater. “The Prince will take them, I’m sure.”

  Tuse shifted in his seat and sat upright. “What are we to do if he doesn’t?”

  Trysten blinked. “If he doesn’t?”

  “Yes. What if he doesn’t take the prisoners? Or what if he doesn’t come at all? What are we to do then? This can’t go on. These are dangerous men, and we are not equipped to deal with this.”

  Trysten’s chest tightened at the suggestion that the Prince wouldn’t come. Fear and hope collided in her. By the wilds, how wonderful it would be if the King had changed his mind and d
ecided to withdraw his order that Trysten was to step down as Dragoneer and abandon her association with the weyr. She shook her head. She had broken the law—the law that forbade women to be dragoneers even though they were believed to be incapable of bonding with dragons. The King would not let that go.

  “He will come,” Trysten said. She folded her hands in her lap.

  Tuse sighed, then slumped a bit in his chair. He stared at the tabletop for a moment as if consulting some agenda that only he could see.

  “I assume the Prince is traveling by dragon. If that is the case, it’s a four-day trip if he takes his time. It has been a week since you told me he was coming.”

  Trysten swallowed and forced herself not to squirm.

  Tuse stared at her for a breath longer. “Why did you not tell me when you first heard?”

  “The Prince’s business is with me, not with the village.”

  The overseer lowered his gaze to the table again. He reached out and tapped his fingernail against the solid wood carted in from the forests at the edge of the Wilds decades ago. He nodded. “Yes, traditionally the affairs of the weyr and the affairs of the village are separate, but not when one affects the other. It is not in the weyr that we are holding these prisoners, Trysten.”

  “If I had the room in the weyr, we would keep them there. As it is, even the dragons don’t all fit.”

  “I understand that. What if the Prince doesn’t show up? You hid his arrival—”

  “I did not hide it. I just didn’t—”

  “You didn’t mention it after the courier brought you the letter, then. You didn’t mention it at all until you came back to the village with nineteen dragons that you didn’t leave with, all but two still carrying enemy hordesmen. Today’s incident highlights the danger of the current situation. What if those prisoners had decided to take hostages instead of making a run for the mountains? What if they had secured weapons and turned on the villagers?”

  Trysten sat upright in her chair. “The Prince will come.” The words felt sour as they left her mouth. “He will be here.”

  Tuse stared for a few heartbeats more, then averted his gaze and gave a slight nod. His scalp, visible through his thinning hair, reflected the light of a lantern burning from a hook on the wall.

  “I suppose you’re right.” He looked back up at her. “I can’t imagine the King would allow our transgression to go unanswered.”

  Trysten’s shoulders relaxed a bit. Our transgression. Such a little word made such a big difference.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Trysten said. She leaned back in her chair, let her expression loosen up as if suddenly they were two friends discussing the affairs and gossip of the village. “When the Prince shows up, if he were to see that I was conducting myself as the Dragoneer should, then he might rethink the King’s orders. He might allow me to retain my title.”

  Tuse raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been conducting yourself quite admirably. As much as it concerns me to have to deal with these prisoners, I cannot recall in any lore any such tale of a dragoneer who captured one horde and defeated another.”

  Trysten’s jaw tightened slightly. It hardly felt like she had defeated the Second Horde considering most of them had taken their own lives and the lives of their dragons. She did not feel a bit victorious after witnessing them fall from the sky.

  “Without any doubt, once the Prince arrives and sees the full scope of your abilities and how far they extend, surely he will make an exception for you. It would be a loss to the kingdom to do otherwise.”

  “Be that as it may, I would feel a lot better if, when the Prince arrives, he finds a little more industry. I would like him to see that we are working toward a future together. Myself and the village.”

  Tuse’s eyebrow raised again. “I take it you already have something in mind.”

  “I want to build a second weyr.”

  “A second weyr?”

  “I don’t have any place for the captured dragons, and we have to keep them. They’re bonded to Elevera now. I can’t keep expanding the weyr. If something were to happen…”

  “Best not to keep all our eggs in a single weyr, right?”

  Trysten smiled. “Something like that. And though I hope it’s not necessary, we could consider adding a section to house prisoners.”

  “A prison? Here in Aerona?”

  Trysten looked down to her knees. She didn’t like the idea of it either.

  “It might be prudent to wait until the Prince has come and gone,” Tuse said. “If he cannot be made to see reason and deposes you as Dragoneer…”

  “You won’t have to worry about so many dragons.”

  “I hope things don’t turn out that way, but yes. If the Prince removes you as the Dragoneer of Aerona, Elevera and her horde will not be permitted to remain here. They will be sent away to make room for a new horde.”

  Tuse was kind to mention only the dragons, but it was a charity she did not need. “They will send them away because they’ve sent me away,” Trysten said.

  Tuse’s lips tightened until they lost color. He nodded. “Yes. I understand. The Prince will want to replace you with another dragoneer. He will send you and the horde away. That is the way of things.”

  Trysten leaned forward slightly. “That is why we need to do what we can now. We can’t wait for the Prince to arrive and ponder a decision. We have to show him that the whole village expects me to remain in charge of the Aerona horde. It is best for this village and the kingdom as a whole. Who would challenge this border when word gets out that I have captured a horde?”

  “Any Western dragoneer who wants to make a name for himself.”

  Trysten lifted her chin. “His name will come to mean nothing. I doubt the Westerners celebrate their losses.”

  Tuse leaned forward and rested his elbows upon the table. “Your confidence would be troubling in anyone else. You though can back up that claim.”

  “Imagine what it will do for trade once word gets out that Aerona has two weyrs and a horde of over forty dragons.”

  Tuse nodded. “Yes, I’m quite sure it would do wonders for the merchants and the shepherds, and the weavers and the knitters, but my main concern is security. That is the main concern of border villages. I don’t understand though why you’re telling me this. The concerns of the weyr are the concerns of the weyr. How does building a second weyr impact the village?”

  Trysten took a breath to gather herself. “After adding the extension to the existing weyr, we don’t have the resources to build a second one.”

  Tuse sat back in his chair and gave his head a slight shake. “I still don’t understand.”

  “The Dragoneer has always asked the King for funding for a project of this scale. The Dragoneer makes a case for it, and either the court agrees to forward the money, or it doesn’t.”

  “You want the village to pay for the weyr?”

  Trysten tilted her head, neither a nod nor a shake. “It’s not a matter of money…”

  “Not a matter of money? Where are you going to get the lumber for such an undertaking? It isn’t cheap to have lumber carted here.”

  “Neither is it timely,” Trysten responded. “I want you to put together a cutting party. I would order it myself, but the hordesmen are needed here for security. If you could organize a cutting party to head out to the Wilds—”

  “A cutting party?” Tuse interrupted. “The fighting season is upon us. There is a reason cutting parties are only sent out in the season of peace.”

  A flush of color washed over Trysten’s cheeks. The man sometimes treated her like she was an imbecile. She couldn’t tell him about the Second Hordesmen. But according to Galelin, she was the target, not a band of villagers out to fell some trees at the edge of the forest.

  “They’ll be safe. The Western Horde won’t bother them.”

  “Because you are going to guarantee their safety? You are going to send a hordesman and dragon out to protect them?” Tuse crossed his a
rms over his chest.

  “The Western Kingdom has no interest in the ground. Their raiding parties only come after weyrs. They don’t attack merchants on the road. They don’t attack travelers. Putting a dragon with them would only make them a target.”

  Tuse leaned back in his chair. He appeared to be mulling it over. Finally, he nodded. “You have a point. I will order a cutting party drawn up. I suppose you’d like it sent out immediately.”

  Trysten fought a grin and kept herself from rocking forward in surprise and delight. She hadn’t expected Tuse to agree, or at least not so quickly. “Thank you. I appreciate this,” she said solemnly.

  “And I appreciate that you’ve saved our village. Thrice now, by my count. Once by stopping the horde from absconding, and twice from attacking hordes. My trust in you has yet to be misplaced. It would not be right of me to start questioning it now.”

  Trysten stood. “It will be fine. They won’t have any problems at all. It’s me the Westerners are after.”

  “You?”

  Trysten gritted her teeth. The bottom fell from her stomach as she had almost spilled her family secret. “Me, because I am the Dragoneer.”

  Tuse nodded. “Indeed.”

  “Again, thank you. I’ll make arrangements to start digging the foundation.”

  As she turned to leave, Tuse cleared his throat. She stopped and looked at him. She could see he had something to say to her that she wouldn’t like.

  “It is not impossible that the Prince has encountered some trouble on his way here,” Tuse began, his voice nearly a whisper. “Perhaps he was surprised by the early end of the season of peace. If that is the case, it will be some time before the King figures out what has happened and sends someone out here. Holding the prisoners in those cottages is not an acceptable long-term solution. I want to know what you plan to do if he doesn’t show up, and I want you to enact that plan if he isn’t here three days hence. Do you understand?”