The Dragoneer Trilogy

by Vickie Knestaut

  Trysten pulled an arrow from her quiver and notched it against her string. She slowed her pace and watched the grasses along the edge of the path for movement, even though there was rarely a hare directly in the path. "I believe her."

  Caron said nothing more for a bit. The two of them stalked along the path toward a wide, low spot just beyond the village where the river sometimes laid during the spring floods. There the grass was thick and lush, but not as tall. It was the best place to find hares.

  "Your father was never in this situation before. His battles always came suddenly, unexpectedly. He was fortunate to have an hour's warning, let alone several days, so I can't say for sure how he would have reacted. But I know him pretty well. He would have been in the weyr most of the night and all day. He would have been with his men, keeping them ready for the fight. Busy checking and rechecking everything."

  "Paege is doing a great job at that, at keeping the hordesmen ready and busy."

  Caron was quiet a moment. "I'm glad to hear it. To be honest, I expected him to have some trouble with this."

  "With what?" Trysten asked. "What do you mean?"

  "He was always such a quiet, meek boy. I never really thought he'd follow in his father's footsteps. Well, I figured he'd try, but I just didn't think he would take to it is all."

  "And me?" Trysten asked. "Did you think I'd follow in my father's footsteps?"

  Trysten waited for a response, and just as she was about to turn and ask her mother again, she heard the thwip of a bowstring, and then the squeal of a hare.

  "Got it!" Caron called. She trotted off the path and through the grass and picked up the hare. It still struggled at the end of the arrow.

  Trysten turned away. She had wrung the necks of hares before, dozens if not hundreds of times, but this night, she couldn't stand to see it. She could barely tolerate the snapping sound and the large, sudden silence that fell in behind it.

  "Are you all right?" Caron asked.

  Trysten nodded. She felt pale, and she hoped her mother didn't notice in the dying light, the sun disappearing behind the jagged teeth of the mountains.

  They continued walking.

  "I think you've outpaced your father," Caron said.

  "Excuse me?"

  "You asked if I thought you'd follow in your father's footsteps. I knew you would. I didn't know that you'd outpace him. You've certainly gone further than he ever could," Caron replied.

  Trysten wanted to tell her mother what was coming, about the walls of dragons she would send crashing down on the army, their last breaths full of fire, crushing the enemy underneath. About how even if she could find a way to stop the army without sacrificing the dragons, they would die of starvation in the weyr.

  "What are we going to do?" Trysten asked, the question shooting out like a hare from behind a clump of grass.

  "About what?" her mother asked.

  "Where is this going to end? Am I just going to keep collecting horde after horde as long as I'm Dragoneer? How are we going to feed them and take care of them? Will the village hold more weyrs than cottages?"

  Trysten stopped herself. She took a deep breath and focused on the distant sound of someone swinging a hammer, the dull thud over and over like the village was trying to establish a pulse.

  "I don't know what we're going to do," Caron said. "Though I do know what you are going to do."

  Trysten turned to her mother and lifted an eyebrow in anticipation.

  "You are going to help me catch hares for dinner. Then you are going to help me clean them, and take a few to Borsal for tomorrow's meal. Then you are going to have dinner with your family, and you will eventually figure it out."

  Trysten grinned, then looked to the path beneath her feet. "Fight the enemy before me," she whispered.

  "What was that?" Caron asked.

  Trysten shook her head. Her braids shifted on either side of her vision, as she looked up to her mother. "Fight the enemy before me. It's something Father told me."

  Caron nodded. Her mouth drew down into a pucker as if evaluating her husband's statement. "That sounds like good advice. It sounds like something he would say."

  "It's hard to keep it in mind. It's hard not to always be thinking about the dragons. The battle will solve the food problem, as awful as that sounds, but it will only be a solution until we come up against another horde. It's hard not to worry about how I will handle it next time, because it will happen again. I can't stop being who I am. What I am."

  Caron shrugged. "Your father never worried about such things."

  Trysten smirked. "I don't imagine that he did."

  "That's not what I mean. What I mean is that your father never really saw himself as the one in charge. He directed the hordesmen, but it was Aeronwind who was in charge. If your father wanted to fly into battle, he had to rely on Aeronwind to want to fly. He could suggest that she take off, but in the end, it was up to her. The defense of this village was Aeronwind's responsibility. She was the one who saw to our safety. Your father was really nothing more than an interpreter. Aeronwind relied upon your father to understand and predict the movements and actions of other humans."

  "So you're saying..."

  "That is the wisdom of dragons. You above all should understand that. You have eighty dragons because you need eighty dragons. That is what it will take to turn back the army," Caron said.

  Trysten looked away from her mother and out toward the small meadow ahead of them.

  Caron walked past, continuing on the path.

  "So you think that I won't have this problem in the future? You think that Elevera can regulate the number of dragons in her horde?"

  Caron shrugged and looked back over her shoulder. "I can't even begin to understand how dragons think. But I know that our ancestors have always trusted in their wisdom, have always lived by that, and the dragons have never let us down. The fact that you and I are here to have this conversation is proof enough."

  Trysten nodded. "I guess you're right."

  Caron grinned. "Well then, you should also trust in the wisdom of mothers as well."

  Trysten returned the smile, then glanced over her shoulder at the village above. The hammering began again, faltered, and then started once more. She turned back to her mother. "Yes, you're right about that as well."

  As they moved together down the path, Trysten notched her arrow once again. Her mother was right. Trysten was not the driving force of the horde, Elevera was. Elevera bonded with the other dragons and controlled them. Trysten didn't. Elevera translated Trysten's wishes into commands the horde understood. And Elevera would send the dragons into battle to save the village and the humans who were so often incapable of solving their own problems.

  That was the wisdom of dragons.

  Chapter 36

  The following morning, Trysten dispatched Vanon and a few other riders to fly ahead and check on the progress of the army. She waited in her den for the ringing of the watch bell in case Vanon and the others returned with the enemy horde in pursuit. When they did return, they were thankfully alone. Unfortunately, they had hardly been gone for an hour. The army was very close.

  The soldiers had constructed a crude bridge over Quiet Creek and had lost very little time in their approach. They were close enough that they could get to Aerona by the evening or even late afternoon if they made good time.

  "They will come with the morning then," Trysten said. "They'll stop ahead of the horizon, and then rest for the night. The battle will be at dawn."

  "Are you sure?" Vanon asked. "The sun will be in their eyes."

  "They're not looking at this as an aerial battle. They are thinking about the village. They want to sack it in the light of day when they can see the villagers. If they reach the village after dusk, then it will be easier for us to ambush them."

  "It makes sense. Except that they are the only ones who think this isn't an aerial battle. This will be decided in the sky," the hordesman assured Trysten.

  She no
dded in agreement. "I want three more hordesmen to fly out and assess the army's position at noon, and then another three in the evening. In the meantime, I want all the hordesmen ready to fly at a moment's notice. I don't think the Western horde will bother us until tomorrow, but it's possible that they might try and test us once more."

  Vanon's face grew stony. "Have you seen the Original again?"

  Trysten shook her head and resisted the urge to peer around her den as if the Original might have snuck in while they were discussing him.

  "Well I don't think we've seen the last of him," Vanon went on. "He didn't get what he wanted, and I don't think that he's going to give up so easily."

  Trysten sat back in her chair. "Or he knows full well that he won't get what he's after."

  Vanon shook his head. "I doubt that. If it were true, he'd have turned his army of devils around by now."

  "You think the Original is responsible for the army?" Trysten asked.

  "I know he is. The Western kingdom has never sent an army after us until this fighting season, one that started off with those Second Hordesmen. They are coming for us. That army may be an army of mercenaries, or the Originals may have had control over the Western kingdom all this time, but either way, I'd bet my dragon that this army is their doing."

  Trysten looked down to the table top, to her fingers laced together. "I'm not so sure about that."

  She looked up in time to see a look of surprise settle over Vanon's face.

  "How can they not be?" he asked.

  "I'm not saying they aren't, I'm just saying that I don't know. Things don't add up to me."

  Vanon shifted his weight, then peered out the window behind Trysten. His face became hard and rigid again, full of daring and challenge. "Well it doesn't matter, does it? They've come here looking for a fight no matter who sent them, and they will get their fight."

  "They will indeed," Trysten said with stoic resignation learned from her father. She did not share the lust for battle that her hordesmen did. To her, battle felt like a failure to come up with a better solution.

  "Send up three weyrboys when you go back down, please," Trysten said. "I have some errands for them."

  When the weyrboys came to her den, she dispatched them to find Mardoc, Paege, and Prince Aymon. She asked the boys to tell them that she had news of the army, and she wished to discuss it with them in her den immediately.

  The boys took off, their feet hammering down the steps. Trysten stood from her table, approached the window, and stared through the warped glass as she waited for the summoned men, and maybe the Original as well.

  Chapter 37

  Prince Aymon was the last of the men to arrive, and to Trysten’s surprise, he had Muzad in tow.

  “It is highly unusual to summon a prince of the Cadwaller court to your own bidding,” Prince Aymon said as he entered the den. His eyes swept over Mardoc and Paege, both sitting in chairs arranged around the foot of Trysten’s table. She stood at the head and gestured at the remaining empty chair before she picked up her own chair and sat it down with the others for Muzad to use.

  “Thank you for coming,” Trysten said. “Both of you. I knew you would understand how important this is.”

  Prince Aymon hobbled across the room, Muzad hovering behind him like a nurse. Trysten knew it was because Muzad did not want to step ahead of the Prince and not that he was hanging back in case Aymon required help. The Prince took a seat in one of the empty chairs, but Muzad remained standing behind him, his arms folded behind his back, chest puffed out and chin lifted in defiance of Trysten.

  “I sent out a few hordesmen to assess the army, and they've reported back. The army will reach the horizon before this evening. I expect they will attack shortly after dawn tomorrow. I wanted to speak to each of you so that we could be clear on what will happen tomorrow.”

  Prince Aymon shook his head. "My men have flown a reconnaissance flight as well. They will attack at dawn tomorrow. Their men will start for the village in the dark so that by the time they are spotted in the dawn light, they will practically be in your weyr yard and too close for the catapults to be effective."

  "No," Trysten said with a shake of her head. She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the edge of the table. "That is what they might do if their goal was to sack the village, but they are after something completely different."

  "They want us to see them coming," Mardoc said.

  "My thoughts exactly," Trysten said.

  Prince Aymon sat back in his chair. His knuckles blanched as he squeezed at the head of his cane. "You have a point."

  “Do you expect all of the men to hand their dragons over to you?” Muzad asked.

  Trysten bristled at the question but then realized that there wasn't the edge to it that she had expected. Muzad wasn't trying to make a point, but rather, merely asking a question.

  "Of course not," Prince Aymon blurted out before Trysten could answer. He shifted in his seat and looked up at Muzad. "Unless she will be teaching the dragons to also take up bows and arrows while in the air."

  "I do not," Trysten said directly to Muzad. "I will be in charge of the riderless dragons, but I expect the hordesmen of Cadwaller to ride into battle alongside me. We will stick to our original plan. We will allow the army to fall nearly upon the village’s borders before archers release a volley of flaming arrows into the firebreak. I will then send in a wave of riderless dragons to draw the arrows and spears of the Western army.”

  Trysten paused and looked over the faces of the men. None of them flinched at the suggestion, and it disappointed her a bit to see these men willing to sacrifice dragons so easily. But then they were not men accustomed to letting their feelings show, especially when discussing military strategy. Beyond a doubt they all would feel the pain of loss before the battle was over.

  “Next," Trysten continued, "I will send in another wave of riderless dragons. They will use firebreath to clear a path to the spear launchers. Muzad’s horde will follow, supplemented with some of the royal hordesmen from Aerona’s own horde.”

  Paege nodded, as did Muzad.

  Trysten shifted her weight, then placed her hands upon the tabletop behind her. “Muzad and the riders with him will concentrate firebreath on the spear launchers and keep the army from rearming them. Finally, my horde will bring up the rear. We will attack the beasts of burden pulling the spear launchers. Or we will focus on the spear launchers themselves, depending on how effective the third wave was.”

  “There will be nothing left for your dragons to release firebreath upon,” Muzad said with a nod. “Except for some singed beasts of burden.”

  “What of the other dragons?” Mardoc asked.

  “I will take care of them,” Trysten said.

  “My men and I will be happy to take care of them,” Muzad said. “They wouldn’t dare attack after the army has engaged us. Their dragons are just as vulnerable to their spear launchers as ours are.”

  “He has a good point,” Prince Aymon said. “If we encounter the other enemy horde, they will come ahead of the army.”

  Trysten shrugged. “Let them. We will not have time to bury their fallen, so let the army step over them when they come.”

  Paege’s head shifted back, and his eyes widened in surprise.

  Mardoc frowned. “Something about this doesn’t sit well with me.”

  “What do you mean?” Trysten asked.

  Mardoc scratched at his chin. “They know about your powers. That is evident. What we’ve seen from them is that they will alter their tactics to take away your advantages. They have spear launchers to keep our hordes at bay. They have kept their alpha and dragoneer out of our reach. We are dealing with an enemy capable of knowing our own tactics, or at least anticipating them.”

  “So what will they do as they approach?” Prince Aymon asked Mardoc. “Do you think they know about our own measures, the ones taken here in the village?”

  Mardoc shifted in his seat. “If they
got their information from the escaped prisoners, then that would explain how it is that they knew of Trysten and her powers. But if they have another way of finding out our plans, then they might know what we have waiting in store for them."

  “What of it?” Muzad asked. “There is little they can do about the firebreak or the catapults except sit far out in the plains and brood like ill-mannered children, which would be a welcomed turn if you were to ask me.”

  “They’ll try to hem us in,” Trysten said as she crossed her arms over our chest.

  Mardoc nodded. “I suppose you’re right. That is what I’d do.”

  “Hem us in?” Paege asked.

  “They’ll fly their dragons in a crescent, like a net. When we move to engage, the back of their net will pull away, and they'll form a channel we will have to fly down. At the end of that channel will be the spear launchers. That way their dragons will be out of the path of the spears while ours will have to choose between avoiding their dragons or avoiding their spears.”

  “And you have something in mind to negate that?” Prince Aymon asked.

  “We could fly the dragons in two columns,” Muzad said as Trysten opened her mouth. “Take them on head-on.”

  Trysten shook her head. “No. We should ignore them.”

  Muzad blinked at her. “I beg your pardon.”

  “We ignore them. We ignore their dragons. Our priority is to take out the spear launchers. As long as those are functioning, they can protect the army from firebreath and arrows.”

  “What of the village?” Prince Aymon asked.

  “That’s right,” Muzad said. “If you ignore the enemy dragons, they might very well come back and ignite the village like the dragons from the blockade nearly did.”

  Trysten recalled the Dragoneer sitting atop his alpha in the middle of the army, surrounded by thousands of soldiers and five spear launchers. Though she couldn’t get close enough to see the expression on his face, she could clearly imagine the smug look. And it surprised her at how easy it was for her to believe that the Dragoneer’s face looked much like the awkward, long face of the Original who had sat in the chair before her.