by Bianca D'Arc
“Nice of you to join us.” Seth fought off an enemy soldier even as Gowan reached him. They turned back to back, as Gowan had taught him, each one guarding each other’s back.
“The so-called leaders are still hiding up top, but I figured I could be of better use down here. Can’t let you have all the fun.” Gowan grinned even as he faced a new opponent. The other man took one look at Gowan’s face, and his well-worn and bloody sword, and backed down to seek an easier target.
Gowan let him go. He wouldn’t be that easily lured away from Seth’s unprotected back.
“The harbor is blocked. I’m going to do something about the rest of the fleet,” Hrardorr reported.
Seth worried about what Hrardorr planned to do, but he was a little too busy fighting for his life to ask too many questions. Seth was glad Gowan had come down off the cliffs when he had. The militia was doing well, as were the town guard, but the townsfolk were a mixed lot, unused to fighting for the most part.
There was a serious shortage of trained soldiers, and having Gowan here helped even the odds. One Gowan was worth a score of townsfolk in battle.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The mighty dragon rose from the sea. His dark wings shone with every color of the ocean—greens, blues, indigo, and even red and ochre. A dark rainbow of immense proportion, dripping with water while deep red flames shot from his mouth.
Flames that were aimed at the cloth sails of the rearmost of the enemy fleet, their weapons trained on the harbor or sky, not behind them at the open sea. They’d thought nothing could approach from open water. They’d thought they would see any dragon flying down from the cliffs and be able to track it as it came in for a flame run.
Nobody had ever heard of a sea dragon that could breathe fire. Nobody had ever heard of a sea dragon fighting alongside the folk of Draconia. And nobody had ever heard of a sea dragon, who was very obviously blind, doing so much damage.
The rear of the fleet was in flames when finally, somewhere far above, the leaders of the Lair gave the order for the dragons to do their worst. Arrows flew, but they mostly missed their marks as panic set in amongst the enemy sailors. Sailors feared nothing so much as fire aboard ship. Even surrounded by water, fire could destroy a ship and leave its crew at the mercy of the ocean.
The deadly diamond-tipped blades were mostly at the bottom of the harbor, except for those still hiding in the central mass of the badly disoriented fleet. They got off a few shots at the dragons, who were now swooping en masse, while the tight bunching of ships began to fall apart as captains broke ranks, turned their vessels around, and ran for their lives.
After his initial flame run, Hrardorr dove beneath the waves, out of reach of the diamond-tipped arrows and spears hastily aimed at him. But that left the opening for the rest of the dragon wings coming from the other direction.
Within a few minutes, half the enemy ships were on fire, and the rest were sailing away as fast as they could, no longer engaging in battle. The order came down from the Lair’s leadership to let them go and concentrate on those still in the harbor. Knights were dropped on land to help the fighting men of Dragonscove while their dragons flew an aerial dance, evading the dangerous arrows and spears as best they could—unhindered by the need to keep a rider on their backs.
It was quite a sight to see, and Seth had to stop himself from being distracted as he fought back to back with Gowan. He could feel the tide of the battle turning, and he suspected it wouldn’t be long before the fighters began to surrender.
Sure enough, it was only a few minutes more before the sailors realized they had lost and began to give up, refusing to fight when they saw that the townsfolk would have mercy on them. There was no way for them to win, and they knew it. They also learned they would not be summarily executed, so surrender was the smarter option at that moment.
Only problem was, the town jail couldn’t handle quite this many people. Other arrangements would have to be devised, but that would be up to the town council and the harbormaster. The latter was used to impounding entire crews when dishonesty was discovered. He knew how to handle large groups of men and how to segregate them so they couldn’t all plot together. He’d be able to advise the council on the best methods.
Seth’s groggy mind was already planning ahead, he realized, even as the fight drew to an end all around him. The victors began to cheer—the town militia leading the shouting—but Seth just felt too weary to do much more than follow Gowan’s lead as he began giving orders on how to deal with the prisoners…and the dead. At least Gowan had dealt with such things before and was willing to take charge on the battlefield. Seth was glad for his leadership just then. He’d had enough of command for one day.
For a man who, until yesterday, had been only a healer’s apprentice, Seth had been well out of his expected role. He found he liked it. He had reveled in calling the fire sequence from atop the battlements. He thought he’d done a good job leading the ground-based firing teams, even though he’d never even contemplated doing such a thing before. And he’d proved himself adequately when it came to fighting one-on-one. He was still alive and mostly unharmed, which meant he’d done well.
But it wasn’t anything he’d ever expected to do in his life. Not after he’d deliberately chosen to be Bronwyn’s helper.
“You did well today.” Gowan clapped Seth on the back, having returned from organizing the guard who were seeing to the prisoners.
“It was an honor to fight beside you,” Seth replied, still feeling a bit numb after the hellacious battle.
“Same.” Gowan grunted as they walked along the battlements, examining the dead. “These markings are not from anywhere near Draconia.” He pointed to the designs carved into blades, scabbards and shields that were clearly of foreign origin.
“I believe the town council and the leaders of the Lair will have quite a few questions for the prisoners. In the meantime, I’d better use my training to help those who are injured and might be saved…unless you need me for anything else?” Seth almost hoped Gowan would say yes, which made Seth question once again where his true loyalties lie now that he’d had a chance to learn more about the fighting arts.
But Gowan simply nodded to him, letting him go, and Seth knew there were those in need who could use even his sometimes ham-fisted attempts at healing. Which reminded him…
“The battle is over.” He sent the message directly to Livia.
“I know. Gowan told me. I’m glad you’re both all right. And Hrardorr and Genlitha, too.”
“Hrardorr was definitely the hero of the day,” Seth agreed, giving credit where it was most definitely due.
“I’m so glad he got to prove himself. Maybe now he won’t continue to feel so bad about being blind.” It was a wish Seth shared with her, though he wasn’t sure how Hrardorr was going to feel after all this. If he’d learned anything about the dragon, it was that he seldom did what everyone expected. “Bronwyn and a delegation of those with basic healing skills are heading your way. They left as soon as Gowan gave the all clear.”
“Good. They’ll be needed. I’m already sorting out those who need Bronwyn’s skill and those that I can handle. Do you know if any dragons were badly injured? I couldn’t see too much of the air battle from where I was, and I was, uh, somewhat busy.”
He didn’t know if she realized he’d been in the thick of the fighting, and he didn’t feel like discussing his first real battle with anyone just at the moment. Even Livia.
Seth knew, deep down, that he had been forever changed by what he’d witnessed—and what he’d done—that day. He would see the faces of the men he’d killed for the rest of his life, in his mind’s eye. He would remember the way they’d looked at him, clearly wanting to take his life, his riches and his land.
They’d left him little choice. He’d had to defend himself, his people, and his land from their attack. While he would rather have settled things peacefully, he knew now that when someone was intent on attacking you, for whate
ver reason they might have, there came a time when talk would not help. When words didn’t work and they left you no choice, you had to fight for what was yours. For what was right.
Bullies could not go unanswered. Seth knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that those men he’d killed that day would have happily killed him and every last person in Dragonscove before they were done with their evil deeds. They would have laid waste to the town and raped, pillaged and destroyed everything in their path, consuming like locusts on their way to wherever they were going next.
They’d had to be stopped.
The next hours passed in a blur of blood, sweat and work for Seth and all concerned in the clean-up of the harbor. Luckily, the fighting hadn’t advanced too far into the town itself. Most of the damage was limited to the harbor area. And of course, the burning mass of timber in the harbor itself that had once been ships was still there, providing light and heat to those that worked long into the night on land.
The harbormaster had decided to let the enemy ships burn themselves out. Unless the wind changed direction or the current drew the burning wreckage too close, they were just going to let it be for now. There was too much else to do to set the town to rights and deal with the survivors.
Dragons were guarding the prisoners while their knights questioned each man in turn. Seth worked hard, rendering aid where he could, and instructing a few townsfolk in basic wound care while working on others.
Hrardorr was harvesting the bottom of the harbor floor for the diamond-bladed weapons. Such things were too dangerous to be left lying around for just anyone to fish out of the water, and the diamonds—once turned into faceted gemstones rather than blades—would go a long way toward paying for the rebuilding of the town and its harbor defenses.
Genlitha had been called before Sirs Jiffrey and Benrik to account for her movements during the battle. They chastised her for her solo run to drop Gowan off before the call to action had been given.
Genlitha wasn’t one to stand by when hypocrisy paraded before her. Instead of answering the ludicrous charge, she had given the human leaders of the Lair a piece of her mind. She criticized them for being too slow to act. She reminded the human leaders that, while they were old men, their dragons would live on long after they left this realm. By holding back until the last possible moment, they had taken the cowardly stance. She made them feel shame for doubting their dragon partners.
She made no bones about her belief that, rather than being the protectors of the realm they had once sworn to be, they had proven to be too old and too cautious to lead the Southern Lair any longer. She called for a vote of no confidence among the dragon council and the human knights, but that would have to wait for later, when they could all gather in sufficient numbers to cast a deciding vote. For the moment, her charges were on the table, so to speak, creating much debate among the knights and dragons alike.
Livia had come back down the mountain to Dragonscove and gathered up all the healing supplies in her father’s warehouses. She had taken Rosie with her and dug right in, patching people up. Rosie had proven especially knowledgeable in treating cuts and the few burns they encountered. Seth crossed paths with the duo every few minutes on his way to his next patient.
Bronwyn was treating the dragons and the worst of the human injuries while Seth alternately saw to less severe injuries and helped Bronwyn with the more difficult cases. The losses, thankfully, weren’t as great as they could have been. All in all, they’d gotten off lightly for such a large force arrayed against them.
According to the high-flying scouts, the remnants of the enemy fleet were on the run.
The answers elicited from questioning the prisoners began to form a clearer picture of why they’d been attacked. First, the leaders of this fleet had once been in business with King Lucan of Skithdron. They’d been the ones delivering the shipments of diamond-tipped blades Lucan had been using, only they hadn’t delivered full cargoes on every trip. No, they’d been skimming some of the pricey weapons off of every shipment until they’d amassed quite an arsenal for themselves.
With King Lucan out of business, the fleet was at loose ends, with a stockpile of dangerous weapons that had really only one use—as dragon killers. Plus, it was widely known that the kingdom of Draconia was busy fighting in the north. The southern shore was seen as unprotected and ripe for the picking.
It made sense, really, though they all could have wished it didn’t. The lesson had been driven home in the most brutal way. The south had to be prepared for invasion. Conflict had found them on too many fronts, and it would be up to the knights and dragons in each Lair to protect their own areas. They couldn’t help on getting help from other Lairs. There was just too much going on in the kingdom, and the dragon knights were spread thinner than they ever had been in the history of the country.
“Are you sure about this?”
Livia had been running around ever since returning from the Lair, helping people. She and Rosie had done whatever they could, patching up friends and neighbors. Rosie was skilled in rendering aid. It had been part of her training as a nursemaid, after all. Few still remembered that Rosie had been hired as Livia’s governess.
That hadn’t worked out too well, due mostly to the fact that Livia had been a rebellious teen by the time Rose had come into the picture. Rosie’s gruff nature hadn’t helped either. They’d tolerated each other until they’d come to an understanding.
Rosie had been hired by Livia’s father to be a combination of warden and maid while he was away, but they’d come to an uneasy truce before his first voyage ended. Rosie came to understand that Livia would not be dominated, and as long as Rosie did her job and didn’t try to run Livia’s life, she would keep her cushy job, for which she was paid a great deal by the richest man in town.
Over the years, their relationship had gone through changes. Rosie never lost her gruffness, but they’d learned to respect each other and rely on each other to keep the house running smoothly. Rosie had many skills—which was why Livia’s father had hired her in the first place—so Livia left her working with the injured people while Livia saw to the hero of the hour, Hrardorr.
He was in the family boat shed again at the moment, and Livia was almost convinced he was…hiding?
“Yes, I’m sure,” Hrardorr said, adding to the massive stack of glittering, diamond-tipped spears he had been steadily building along one wall. “I don’t trust anyone else with these. These blades are the only things that can slice through dragon scale. They have to be dismantled and ground down into other things as soon as possible. I trust you to do that above all others, Livia. Plus, you have experts working for your father’s company, who can do the work quickly, and under your direct supervision. I want you to keep track of every last one of these. Will you do it? For me?”
“Of course I will,” she answered immediately. “I’ll begin working on them immediately, in fact.” She went over to the pile and picked up one of the spears, examining how to dismantle it and thinking about ways she could inventory each part. “But what I was really asking was, are you sure you should be hiding out down here? You’re the undisputed hero of the hour, Hrardorr. I thought you’d want to enjoy that.”
The dragon snorted, smoke rising from his nostrils. “I’ve been in that position many times, and it is never a comfortable one for me, Livia. I’d rather work. Be useful. Let them fete the younger dragons who need it more.”
She stopped handling the spear and just looked at him. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that, Hrardorr?”
The dragon seemed uncomfortable with her praise. “There are more of these on the bottom of the harbor. I’m going to get them. Will there be room enough in here for twenty more, or should I find an alternate place to hide them for now?”
Livia sighed inwardly. “You can put them in here. I’ll stay and start dismantling them. The blades are only held on with leather bindings which I can cut through. There should be someone guarding the shed though,” she thought a
loud.
“You’re right. I will talk with Genlitha. She may have some ideas of who best to utilize.” Hrardorr lowered himself back into the water. “I’ll be back in an hour. Maybe less.”
“Be careful,” she told him just before he slipped away under the surface of the water and was gone.
Livia spent the next hour using the first blade she’d taken from the spear head to slice through the leather bindings on the rest. With such a sharp edge, the work went faster than she’d thought it would. By the time Hrardorr returned with more, she’d already dismantled the first stack.
The wooden staves were stacked on one side of the boat shed, the diamond blades glittering darkly in a basket she’d emptied of fishing tackle. The new contents of that humble basket were worth a fortune, but it wasn’t hers. She’d take only a small cut to pay the workers who would turn the dangerous blades into faceted gems and small tools. Never would any of these blades be left intact to harm a dragon. She vowed it.
She knew these giant diamond crystals were the rarest of the rare. Only one place in the world boasted so many of these giants. The only place these weapons could have come from—the magic mines on the eastern border of Skithdron.
For only magic could have forged a diamond so large and potentially deadly. Livia had to be careful in handling them. The slightest wrong move and she would slice easily through her skin. She’d put on a pair of old leather gloves that had been stored on one of the shelves. Now those same gloves had little slices all over the palms from her work with the diamonds, but better the gloves than her hands.
Hrardorr put the new supply of spears where she directed him, next to the original pile she had just finished. She would begin work on them as soon as she took a quick break.