Ridge allowed himself a tight smile, feeling the first sense that they could do this, that the dragon would finally die. Smoke wafted from the bullet holes in his snout, a fitting punishment for one who lit human beings on fire.
As he flew past, Morishtomaric’s eyes locked onto Ridge, hatred scorching him as sure as fire. You have no sword to protect you, mosquito, the dragon snarled into his mind.
“You weren’t supposed to notice,” Ridge muttered, gripping the flight stick tightly and bracing himself for another wind attack. He couldn’t let his craft be damaged; he couldn’t leave Ahn up here alone.
A boom and a flash came from the engine compartment, blinding him momentarily. Smoke assailed his nostrils, and he batted at the air with one hand. For a moment, the flier continued running smoothly, and he couldn’t guess what had happened—had lightning struck his control panel? But as his eyes cleared, sight returning, he found himself focusing on the white energy crystal that powered his craft. It lay dark, lifeless.
With growing horror, he looked at the dashboard, saw the speedometer, and confirmed what he already knew by instinct. He was slowing down, the power to the propeller dead. And there was nothing he could do about it. It hadn’t blown up—that would have killed him instantly—but the end result would be the same.
Ridge banked back toward the dragon, hoping he might get a few more shots in before he dropped out of the sky. He ought to land as soon as he could, in the hopes that he could glide down in a semblance of a controlled landing. But he couldn’t leave Ahn, not if there was any chance of helping her.
He steered toward the dragon, knowing it would be for the last time. As he fired a few final shots, grazing the belly of the beast since he was already losing altitude, he experienced some satisfaction in seeing that Ahn had reached the base of the dragon’s neck. He prayed that she would be able to land the killing blow, though he lamented that there was now no way that he could rescue her once she did.
His flier dropped, falling faster now. He couldn’t see through the snow and sleet to gauge the terrain below. All he could do was try to keep the nose level, to hope he had some momentum to carry him forward as well as down, and to further hope for a flat stretch of land to welcome him, since the thrusters would also be inoperable without the power crystal. He doubted he would find any of what he needed.
As he fell faster, his stomach dropping along with the flier, he thought of Sardelle, wishing he’d had a chance to say goodbye. He also wished he had been more enthusiastic when she had brought up children, because now he felt a deep sadness that he would leave her with nothing of himself, nothing to remember him by.
The clouds parted, revealing rocks and a steep slope below, nowhere fit for a landing even if he’d had power.
I love you, Sardelle, he thought, hoping that she would hear him, or at least that Jaxi would, and that she would know his last thoughts had been of her.
• • • • •
Sardelle never thought she would be urging her pilot to twist, turn, and flip upside down, not after the terror of flying with Ridge, but as the two gold dragons swooped down to follow their craft, she was tempted to throttle General Ort and make him go faster. To zigzag more. Perhaps fly upside down. Whatever it took to shake the dragons as their craft streaked through the sleet, following the terrain of the back of Galmok Mountain, but not following it as closely as Ridge would have. He would have flown scant inches from the craggy ground, hugging the bumps and rises like a lover in an attempt to lure his pursuers into tracking too close and losing control, or losing him in a maze somewhere. Ort kept things safe.
For her part, Sardelle tried to distract the dragons, asking them what one would do if the other grabbed the crystal first. Unlike her delusional dragon, Bhrava Saruth, the other two golds would not deign to talk to her. They were probably too busy racing each other, seeing which one could bring Ort’s flier down first.
Fire coming, Jaxi warned.
“Dodge,” Sardelle yelled to Ort, not certain if Jaxi had shared the warning with him.
Oh, I did, Jaxi said as the flier turned and dipped into a valley that a glacier had long ago scraped into the mountainside. He’s getting to know me right now, whether he wants to or not.
Ort’s turn wasn’t sharp enough or unpredictable enough to fool the dragon taking a bead on them. Or maybe it was that both dragons had opened their mouths and exhaled flames. Even Ridge couldn’t have dodged all of that.
Sardelle shielded them, aware of Jaxi throwing her power in with hers, adding to the barrier’s strength. Ort cursed as flames danced in the air around them, and he zigzagged, trying to escape them. Sardelle was thankful he didn’t have to be told. Defending against a dragon’s power drained her strength rapidly, but he might not know that.
“How do we escape them?” he yelled. “They’re faster than we are.”
They’re not even going full speed yet, Jaxi informed them. I think they were curious as to what this contraption is.
“So curious they’re trying to burn it to ashes?” Ort asked.
I believe they got over their curiosity.
The dragons followed them through the glacial valley, spreading apart to flank the flier. Teaming up to hunt. So much for them being competitors for the crystal. They seemed willing to work together now.
“Fly up,” Sardelle yelled and pointed. “There’s our third dragon up there.”
“He’s against the wind,” Ort yelled back. “The others will catch us easily if I try to take us over there.”
“Try now.”
As she had done before with Ridge, Sardelle channeled some of the air blowing around the mountain. She pushed them from behind, creating a draft for them to glide through. The flier surged forward as another burst of dragon fire seared the air behind them. They picked up speed, angling upward, toward where Bhrava Saruth circled like a vulture waiting for the wolves to finish bringing down their prey so it might slip in for a bite.
A vulture? That is an unappealing comparison, especially for a god. I should think I’m at least as noble as an eagle. Or an osprey. I do so love seabirds. I grew up on an island, you know.
I’ll think of you however you like if you do something to help us, Bhrava Saruth.
Hm, yes, I am considering my options. Why don’t you fly into that canyon down there? Stay low and see if you can lure them in behind you. I shall attempt to do something with my cunningness.
“Ort, fly into that canyon, please,” Sardelle yelled. “Our ally promises to be cunning.”
This should prove interesting, Jaxi thought.
The two dragons had caught up and were right on the flier’s tail again, so Sardelle did not have a chance to reply. This time, instead of fire, a wave of power slammed into them. It knocked away the wind she had been channeling, leaving her stunned, as if she had been personally attacked. Worse, it flipped the tail of their flier over their nose, and the world spun as Ort lost all control. He kept his calm, struggling to stop their spin, but it was Jaxi who settled the craft, slowing its rotation. A snowy glacier skimmed past below them, scant meters away. Trying not to think about how close they had come to crashing into it, Sardelle struck the surface of the hardened ice and snow with her mind, flinging a cloud of white slivers into the air.
“Turn,” she barked, hoping the dragons would miss seeing them cut into the canyon through the cloud she had made. She knew their magical senses were more powerful than their eyesight, but maybe they wouldn’t check for a few seconds. At the least, maybe they would inhale some ice crystals and suffer a moment of discomfort.
The deadly frost nostril attack, Jaxi said.
Something inside of the flier rattled as Ort took them into the canyon, but the craft responded once again to his guidance. He hugged the bottom, the lighting dim as they flew between high walls lined with ledges of ice and snow. One side towered above the other, several meters of a glacier poised at the edge. Some of it had broken off and tumbled to the bottom, leaving a jumble o
f ice boulders for them to fly over and around.
“When is this cunning attack going to happen?” Ort yelled as they neared the end.
Both dragons have entered the canyon, Jaxi reported. Their nostrils appear unharmed.
That’s disappointing.
Before answering Ort, Sardelle stretched out with her senses, hoping she would find Bhrava Saruth waiting ahead, poised to spring a trap. He hovered hundreds of feet over the canyon, as if he was a spectator at a horse race.
“Wonderful.” Sardelle did spot something ahead. “I’m not sure about the attack, but there’s a dead end coming up soon.”
“I see it.” Ort waited until they got close before pulling up. Maybe he hoped the dragons wouldn’t see the cliff and would crash into it.
That might work against an inexperienced flier pilot, but Sardelle doubted a dragon would crash into a canyon wall any more than a bird would.
As they rose, a rumble sounded behind them, then booming cracks. Stone falling? No, she realized. It was more than that. The glacier above the canyon was moving. Instead of the couple of feet it might usually traverse in a day, the miles-long thick sheet of ice surged over the edge. It broke and tumbled into the canyon, pouring in as rapidly as water from one of the great northern falls. Their flier just missed being caught by the snapping and cracking ice.
Gleeful laughter sounded in Sardelle’s mind as Ort took them into the air, alternating looking ahead and glancing back, his mouth gaping open.
That will hurt, Bhrava Saruth announced smugly.
Will it kill them? Sardelle doubted it, especially when Morishtomaric had survived having a mountain dropped onto his head.
No, but they will have to dig out. That will take a while since someone is melting and freezing the top of the glacier so the ice fits in the canyon like a plug in a human bathtub. After a pause, the dragon asked, Do humans still have bathtubs? Your kind always felt great pleasure in using the tubs at the dragon rider station near the hot springs at the fjords.
Even though Sardelle couldn’t think of anything she was less interested in discussing at the moment, she latched onto his mention of what she hoped were the Taroth Fjords. Maybe that meant he had served Iskandia once, before he’d done whatever had resulted in him being imprisoned in that cavern.
“Take us to Goat Mountain to help the others,” Sardelle told General Ort. “When last Jaxi checked, the battle had been blown toward the back side.”
Yes, we still have bathtubs, she answered the dragon. We need to help Ridge and Cas now. Are you coming to get your crystal?
A part of her wanted to keep hold of the crystal until they had reached Ridge, so she might use it again as a bargaining chip to enlist Bhrava Saruth’s help with Morishtomaric, but that hadn’t been the deal, and he had already helped with the other dragons.
Yes, I’m right behind you, Bhrava Saruth said cheerfully.
Sardelle glanced back, and her gut lurched with instinctual fear when she saw how close he was, flapping his wings easily to keep up with the flier, his fanged snout scant feet behind their tail. She should have sensed his approach, but maybe she was too tired, or her senses were too dulled from being in proximity to so many dragons. Either way, finding him so close was alarming. Despite his light tone, his face was no less fearsome than that of the other dragons, and his massive, muscular form dwarfed their craft.
Your contraption is quite interesting, he said. I have never known humans to fly on their own. But you still need dragons, yes? You do not worship that metal object, do you?
Uhm, no. We don’t worship the fliers. If I toss the crystal in the air, will you be able to catch it?
Of course!
Though it felt strange to carelessly relinquish the very thing she had been guarding assiduously for the last hour, Sardelle tossed it into the air. As promised, Bhrava Saruth caught it easily, then performed the dragon equivalent of a pirouette.
Sardelle expected him to leave as soon as he had it, but he continued to fly after them as Ort left the relative shelter of Galmok and took them through the windier air between the mountains. Sardelle turned her focus forward, trying to get a feel for what was happening, if the fight between Ridge and Cas and Morishtomaric still raged on, or if they were too late. Jaxi was strangely silent on the matter. Sardelle wanted to ask her for an update, but that silence worried her and made her afraid to inquire.
Ort flew low, using Goat Mountain for protection from the elements as they rounded its craggy terrain. Unexpectedly, Sardelle caught sight of the airship crashed on a hillside below, the hull caved in and most of the balloon burned away. Feeling guilty that she hadn’t had many thoughts about them, she checked for survivors and was relieved to find that many people were alive, maybe all of them. There were definitely injuries, but the balloon must have held together for long enough that the landing hadn’t been too fast. She picked up Tolemek’s aura, shining slightly more brightly than that of those without dragon blood, and sensed his fear and worry. He had to be as concerned about Cas as she was about Ridge.
We’re checking on them, she sent to him, though Ort had already flown past, and she didn’t know if she had been close enough for him to hear her.
“We’ll come back to help them,” Ort yelled back.
Sardelle nodded. She would have strangled him if he had diverted from his route now.
They reached the back side of the mountain, and her stomach sank when she sensed Morishtomaric’s presence. He was still in the air. She tried to locate Ridge, but they were at the edge of her range, and of course Morishtomaric’s aura overshadowed every other living creature around him.
Sardelle…
What is it? She gripped the edge of her seat, certain from Jaxi’s hesitant tone that she didn’t want to know the answer.
Morishtomaric is injured, Bhrava Saruth announced, sounding pleased. He won’t be harassing the hindquarters of any more mares.
Sardelle barely kept herself from telling him to shut up. Jaxi? she prompted.
Cas needs our help, Jaxi said at the same time as Ort pointed and blurted, “I see him!”
“Ridge?” Sardelle leaned forward.
No, he was pointing at a gold dragon feebly flapping his wings as he descended toward the side of Goat Mountain. Morishtomaric was, indeed, injured. Very injured.
“Where are our people?” Sardelle asked, the question as much for Jaxi as for Ort. Where was Ridge?
Cas saw him get hit—his power crystal was destroyed. He went down.
What do you mean down? Sardelle’s mind did not want to—could not—work through the meaning of the word.
Cas is clinging to the neck of that dragon, Jaxi said, her tone subdued. Ask your new god to help her, please.
Sardelle mulishly wanted to sink down in her seat and tell Jaxi to ask him herself, but she forced herself to focus on Morishtomaric and Cas. She couldn’t see her yet, not with the sleet still falling, but she could sense her now, clinging to the dragon. She was injured and exhausted, only hanging on because Kasandral had been driven into the back of Morishtomaric’s neck and she gripped the sword hilt. The wind battered her relentlessly, even as the dragon’s uneven flight threatened to hurl her free. Morishtomaric kept snapping back at her, trying to rip her off his back.
“Going in,” Ort said with determination, trying to adjust his flight and speed to intercept the dragon.
Sardelle doubted he would be able to get close enough for them to grab Cas without crashing into the dragon. She would have to levitate Cas free, if she even could with that sword in her hand. Kasandral had accepted her last attempt to use magic on him. Maybe he would do so again.
Bhrava Saruth? she asked. Can you rescue that human? She’s our friend.
Another worshipper?
I—maybe she could become one if you saved her. Continuing the ruse made her feel sick, sicker. Her stomach was already queasy with worry. But she didn’t want to risk angering the only dragon around who was helping them.
; She has a slayer blade!
Yes, but I’ll tell her not to attack you.
Hmmrph.
From that response, Sardelle couldn’t tell if Bhrava Saruth was concerned or not, but she tried to communicate with Cas as the dragon passed over their flier and flew ahead of them. There wasn’t much time. Ort might not be able to see it in the storm, but they were only about five hundred feet above the ground.
Cas? A new dragon is coming to help you. Don’t attack him. Do you understand?
Cas did not respond. She barely seemed conscious. Had she lost blood? Or just been battered nearly senseless?
Bhrava Saruth swooped down toward Morishtomaric, whose wings had stopped flapping. He was picking up speed, heading straight for the mountain.
Cas, don’t fight, Sardelle urged one more time as Bhrava Saruth, pumping his wings hard to catch up, closed in. His talons extended, but they jerked back a few feet from touching her.
The sword fights me, high priestess!
Cas, let go, Sardelle yelled, willing her to hear and understand.
“Why doesn’t he grab her?” Ort demanded.
The ground was visible now, to eyes as well as senses. The rocky mountainside waited less than a hundred feet below the plummeting Morishtomaric.
“He’s trying,” Sardelle said, as the dragon reached in again, attempting to pluck Cas away, only to be halted before he reached her.
Jaxi, can’t you do something?
Cas slumped off to the side, letting go of the sword and tumbling away from Morishtomaric’s back.
Sardelle would have risen out of her seat if she hadn’t been strapped down. She started to stretch out, thinking she might be close enough to use her power to levitate Cas so she didn’t hit the ground. Bhrava Saruth caught her first.
He flapped away like an eagle with a fish as Morishtomaric smashed into the mountainside with a puff of snow. He did not move.
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