The Dragoneer Trilogy

by Vickie Knestaut

  On a whim, she pictured the entire horde banking sharply to the left. She thought of the whirl of the heather and stone as it swept past, the clouds careening, the shadows and light all shifting until they were focused on the blaze of the sun at the edge of the horizon. She felt the change in pressure as air bunched up under her right wing and eased on her left. She felt the pull in her back as her wings shifted.

  The dragons at the top of the U stiffened their wings, shifted them, then banked off hard to the left. The dragons behind them followed suit, and so began a cascade of action until the entire horde faced the morning sun.

  Shivers wracked Trysten. She began to tremble and shake in awe at the expanse of her powers. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she’d be able to control an entire riderless horde, let alone a horde of more than fifty dragons.

  She whooped and hollered. She imagined the sudden shift of air and pressure and the mad swirling of the sky, and the entire horde responded in kind, climbing upwards into the blue before falling over backward and tumbling into a roll.

  Trysten screamed in joy as Elevera leveled at the end of the loop and the hand of gravity pressed Trysten into a crouch behind the dragon’s neck.

  They spun around and came back toward the village. As they approached, Paege signaled wildly for her attention, then called for firebreath. He pointed out into the pasture.

  Despite herself, Trysten nearly signaled for the arrow of fire maneuver, but then realized she didn't need to. Instead, she pictured and felt what she wanted the dragons to do. The riderless dragons slowed up as Elevera surged ahead and took point in a V formation. Elevera led them upward in a spiral, and the riderless dragons kept in perfect formation behind her.

  Below, a growing crowd of villagers gathered around the edge of the secondary weyr yard. A few even ventured onto the trampled heather and grasses where the dragons had been staked just minutes before.

  After the horde had gained enough altitude, Trysten pictured the dive. She felt it in her bones and her belly and in the wings of every dragon under her command.

  Elevera undulated once in the sky, then folded her wings until they were nearly flat against her body. She dropped from the sky and aimed for the ground as a rumble filled her chest. As Trysten roared a yell of her own, Elevera snapped her wings out, leveled off, and flung a gout of firebreath against a clump of heather. The dragons behind fell into line, and in succession, each dragon torched the same hapless patch of vegetation as they zoomed past.

  The horde fanned up and outward, following Elevera. The village erupted into cheers. Along the edges of the crowd, even hordesmen were now visible, watching and whooping, signaling for her to go on and on.

  And then behind, as if released by a strong gust, a wild twist of doves exploded into the sky.

  “Oh, Borsal!” Trysten laughed as she thought of the weyr manager running his stick along the rungs of the cages, frightening the poor doves out into the sky.

  The horde turned and came in toward the village at a fast clip. The doves took off in the opposite direction, racing for the west.

  The horde poured on speed and fanned out, making a wide crescent shape with which to scoop up the doves. As they closed in, Trysten pictured several dragons raising up and several more dropping down to form a more complete net to ensnare the doves.

  All around the dole of doves, the dragons took their places, forming the edges of a flying cage with only one side missing. Quickly, Trysten thought of dragons moving forward, cutting down and up, over, drawing the trap tight like a bag being cinched shut.

  As the dragons began to move into the final position to trap and direct the doves, Trysten glanced out to the mountains and the horizon cowering before them, past the birds and beyond the dragons.

  She pictured the army coming over the horizon, longbows lifted, arrows flying, the spears of the launchers racing through the air to punch through wings, scales, chest walls. Chaos.

  Everything fell apart. The dragons crisscrossed flight paths and several nearly collided. Doves were snatched out of the air in hungry maws. The birds exploded in every direction, racing toward every point of the horizon as Trysten’s horde pulled itself up short. The dragons slowed down and broke out in various directions to keep the horde from colliding.

  The limitless sense of freedom and elation snapped like a stick broken over a knee. Trysten gasped in confusion and struggled to bring it all back into focus again, to get the dragons back in order. Their confusion rebounded on her, echoing, and she could no longer think. She couldn’t find herself in the mix. She lowered her head, closed her eyes, and told Elevera to go to ground.

  In a flutter of wings, Elevera dropped from the sky and landed in the plains just beyond the firebreak that was still being constructed. Villagers who had been lacing the heather with straw, bits of kindling and charcoal and tallow-soaked rags looked up from the wagons and carts loaded down with the materials of their trap.

  Shortly, the rest of the dragons settled to the ground around Elevera.

  The villagers cheered. They yelled and shouted at Trysten. They congratulated her, told her she was amazing, and that the Western army didn't stand a chance.

  Trysten clutched the lip of her saddle tighter until her knuckles went white and her fingers throbbed. She grinned for the sake of the villagers. Behind them, other workers paused and watched, resting against the stone berms they were building to protect the archers and catapults designed to slow the advancing army. All of the villagers cheered and clapped, and their faces were lit with a level of raw hope that Trysten had never seen before.

  They expected to win. News of the blockade and the absence of reinforcements had hit the village like a dark cloud. But now they saw themselves and Trysten as invincible.

  And there she sat atop Elevera, surrounded by dozens of dragons that would die in the battle. Trysten would send them to their deaths to clear a path for her hordesmen and herself. They would pay with their lives for the limits and deficiencies of their human counterparts.

  Trysten sat up straighter in her saddle. Her throat tightened at the thought of it, anticipating the feeling of the dragons falling away before her, blistering pain rolling off them as hot and unbearable as the heat from their firebreath.

  For the village. To save the village.

  She took a deep breath, set her jaw, and raised her head. To the wilds with being a Dragon Lord. This is what it meant to be the Dragoneer.

  Chapter 34

  The secondary weyr yard was already full of weyrboys and hordesmen as Trysten set back down with the riderless dragons. The weyrboys darted about securing the dragons' stakes in the ground. At any other time, Trysten would have chuckled at such foolishness.

  Paege approached through the confusion, a grin crossing his face as he looked up at her. "That was great work. But you let the doves escape."

  Trysten opened her mouth to reply as mallets thumped against stakes all around them, but then Prince Aymon called her name. She looked out to the Prince, who hobbled toward her from the edge of the secondary yard.

  Paege disappeared into the crowd of dragons and weyrmen before Trysten could answer him. She looked back to Prince Aymon. Instead of going out to meet him, Trysten remained atop Elevera and watched the Prince hobble over with his cane. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to hear the tone of his voice as he discussed her like a fine sword or weapon. She was not an object for his use.

  “That was impressive work,” he called as he approached.

  Trysten looked down at him and nodded.

  “What happened? Things appeared to break apart when you went after the doves.”

  Trysten shrugged.

  Prince Aymon nodded as if she had confirmed a suspicion regardless. “All the same, you have more than demonstrated the abilities we need to defeat the army.”

  Trysten looked out across the flurry of activity around her. The villagers looked hopeful for the first time since she, Kaylar, and Prince Aymon disc
overed the army. They smiled at one another. Clouds of laughter moved through the crowd, dulling the thuds of the mallets. It was the village she remembered, the village she wanted to protect.

  "Come to my tent. We'll discuss how best to use this against the army." Prince Aymon turned around and began to hobble back to the weyr yard.

  Trysten inhaled a sharp, deep lungful, and felt full of firebreath herself.

  "Aymon," she called out, from Elevera's back.

  The Prince halted, then turned halfway around, looking over his shoulder. He lifted an impatient eyebrow.

  Trysten shook her head. "There is nothing to discuss."

  The Prince turned all the way around. His expression clouded over with confusion. "I don't agree. Come back to my tent and—"

  "No," Trysten said with a shake of her head. Elevera shifted position as if impatient with the situation. Trysten rocked in her saddle, adjusting her posture automatically to the movements of the dragon beneath her. "I'm not Muzad. I'm not your personal dragoneer. I'm not some weapon for you to wield as you see fit."

  The confusion dropped away from the Prince's face and was replaced with a stony expression of irritation. "This is not the time. If you wish to save the village, then we need to discuss our plans now. This..." Prince Aymon said as he looked off to the riderless horde and waved at them. "This changes things."

  "No," Trysten said again. Her hands tightened around the lip of the saddle. "This doesn't change a thing. Nothing is different. I am in charge. I am the Dragoneer of this weyr and I will decide how best to save this village and stop that army."

  "Yes, but our plan of attack must change. We have to reconsider how—"

  "No!" Trysten snapped. "You're not listening to me, Aymon! I'm telling you that there is nothing for you to plan. I am the one in charge of this horde." She swept her arm across all the dragons, encompassing the weyr as well. "I am the one who will ride point into battle and I am the one who will command these dragons. I don't need you to tell me what to do."

  Prince Aymon shifted his weight over his cane, looking both a bit startled and uncomfortable in his posture, though his face remained rigid and solid, as unyielding as the stones beneath his feet.

  "The reinforcements you called for—the ones you originally summoned so that you could take me into custody—are not coming. Muzad has fettered away his dragons and riders on pointless bravado. All the might and power of your family isn't going to help us now, Aymon."

  She straightened her posture in the saddle. "I welcome your knowledge and experience in directing the village's defenses here on the ground, but in the air, I am the one in charge. If you want to discuss horde tactics, then I will call you to my den when I am ready."

  Prince Aymon's posture stiffened. His expressionless face blushed a fiery red. "I am the fifth son of the King of Cadwaller. I am in charge of the kingdom's defenses. All of them. Ground and sky. It is my business and my right to be involved in all of our plans."

  Trysten's hands flew over the knots of her restraints and yanked them free. She swung her leg up and over Elevera's neck, then slid off. The scabbard of the dragonslayer sword clinked against a stone as she landed in a crouch. The ringing of mallets began to subside as Trysten approached the Prince.

  "This is the last time I'm having this conversation, Aymon. You once said I am no Adalina. You were wrong. You know that as well as I do. I don't know what's going on here, but I know beyond all doubt that I am a Dragon Lord unlike any who has existed since her. Before that, however, I am the Dragoneer of the Aerona horde, a horde of eighty dragons. I have taken an oath to defend this village and the kingdom, and I will honor that oath as long as Elevera and I both continue to breathe. Stop pretending that I am some poor woman in over her head. Stop treating me like I'm something that exists for your use. I am not going back to the mother city. I am staying here and I am directing the defenses of this village. I am doing it because no one else is able to do it. I will gladly work with you as a colleague, but I am done taking orders from you. You may be the king's fifth son, but I am this kingdom's Dragon Lord. I outrank you in every way."

  The redness of the Prince's face deepened. It was a testament to his restraint that he wasn't trembling with the rage that Trysten saw in his eyes.

  "You made a promise," Prince Aymon said, his voice measured and calm in the way of someone trying to control his temper. "You said that at the end of the fighting season—"

  "There is no fighting season! Not any more. How can we have a fighting season when we have Originals sending armies to Aerona to pressure me into going with them to the end of the world?" Trysten demanded.

  Prince Aymon's eyes shifted to the left, then the right. Trysten then noticed the silence and the crowd of villagers gathered around them.

  "Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere? Someplace more discreet," he said.

  Trysten crossed her arms over her chest. "This is the last time we're having this conversation, remember? I'm not going elsewhere to hash this over again. I'm telling you now that you will not hold me to that promise because you know wild-well that I have too much integrity to hold it against you. You count on the fact that I did not ask for that promise back before saving your life in The Wilds, and that I am not going to ask for it back now in exchange for the protection of your kingdom against the army and the Originals. You are going to forget that deal right here and now."

  Prince Aymon looked around again, then shook his head. A hint of a grin teased at the corners of his lips, but the redness did not subside from his brow or cheeks. "I am not having this conversation now. If you wish to discuss this, then we can do so at a more appropriate time and place."

  Trysten shook her head. "I told you that we are done. This is the last time. If you have anything more to say on this subject, you will say it now. You will say it here. Because I will not listen to it again. Is that clear?"

  The Prince looked out to the horde of riderless dragons twitching and fidgeting, alight with Trysten's own frustration. His expression, however, was no longer the barely-concealed wall of rage that he put up to hide the cold core of fear inside of him. Instead, he appeared thoughtful, or at least strategic, thinking hard on something, evaluating.

  Finally, he looked back to Trysten as if he had made a decision.

  "Carry on," he said, and then turned away and started toward the edge of the crowd, making his way back to the weyr yard.

  Trysten remained in the circle, in the silence that engulfed her. The crowd parted for the Prince, and then as he passed, it swallowed him up. The people Trysten had grown up with, who had known her all her life, stared in quiet awe.

  Someone began to clap. Trysten turned her face to the sound, and there stood Paege, his face drawn up in a grin. His clapping spread over the crowd.

  Her anger and agitation lifted and a smile graced her lips. But her work wasn't done yet. She turned to retrieve Elevera and take her back to the weyr.

  Chapter 35

  The rest of the day, Trysten did her part in tending to the dragons and riders. She spent some time with Rodden who seemed to know something big had happened, but he didn't know what, only that it had drastically shifted the attitudes of the hordesmen.

  There was a levity in the weyr that hadn't been there since before Aeronwind was injured. The hordesmen seemed more confident and relaxed than they had in a long time. Even Karno's men, the ones who were least pleased by the idea of being there, were jovial, energized by a sense that they were present to watch a moment in history that would forever be steeped in legend.

  Trysten let it wash over her. She smiled and thanked the people who told her how stunned they were at what she had done. She nodded politely with those who forecast the utter annihilation of not only the army but the entire Western kingdom. She sang along when a song of heroic deeds and battles would start up among the stalls and travel up and down the weyr, picking up voices and lifting hearts as it went. Even the dragons adjusted the pace and rhythm of their breathing
to match the tempo of the song, forming a dynamic percussion that few would listen well enough to hear. It was the most joy she had seen in the weyr since before Aeronwind's injury.

  But all along, Trysten's mind hummed and churned. There were so many unanswered questions, and she couldn't escape the feeling that she was missing something that would help them avoid the bloody fate that awaited both sides. The village approached a sense of revelry that seemed to imply the battle was only a formality, but Trysten couldn't help thinking of the costs. Many of the men singing around her of dragoneers and hordesmen long dead would soon be dead or injured themselves, their dragons filled with arrows or spears, fallen to the ground.

  When the hordesmen retired to the dining hall for the evening meal, Trysten went home to her cottage just in time to find Caron leaving, a bow in her hand and a quiver on her back.

  "Where are you off to?" Trysten asked.

  "Hares," Caron said.

  "Wait a minute. I'll join you."

  "Do you have time?"

  "If you wait a minute," Trysten said. She slipped around her mother and into her room where she took up the bow and quiver that she used for hunting.

  The two of them descended the path to the river. They passed Yahi, the village cloud reader, who stopped them both to comment on that morning's flight and tell Trysten that it was written in the clouds. She pointed up to the high, wispy clouds above them, lit with the last of the evening sun and looking like wool about to completely unravel and fall upon them in the next minute.

  "You will be victorious," Yahi said. "The clouds see ahead. They see the next dawn. They know." She clasped Trysten on the bicep, grinned at her, and then moved on.

  As soon as Yahi was out of earshot, Caron asked, "Do you not believe her?"