Dragonhold (Book 2)

by Brian Rathbone

  Before Benjin left the Portly Dragon's deck, he couldn't help but notice tanks attached to the sides of the howler and bumblebee. Not to mention the long stalk weed sections he'd seen them hollowing out, which were now connected to those very tanks. Shaking his head, Benjin Hawk stepped back onto dry land, silently wishing those aboard luck.

  A crowd gathered to see the Portly Dragon off on its true maiden voyage. With air and sea trials behind, leaks had been fixed, adjustments made, and provisions loaded. The strange ship left the ground slowly. Daylight streamed between the ship and the dry-dock footings for a mere instant before it came slamming back down. Twice more they bounced, black smoke and steam billowing from the boiler house. Gusting winds pulled at the windsocks. Even when the airship cleared the dry dock, one corner dragged along the sand, sending the ship twisting onto the wind.

  But then the Portly Dragon found its wings and flew. Valterius and Gerhonda soared in close, their riders latching on to ropes attached to the ship's corners to lend stability.

  "Thrust, Jessub!" Kenward shouted as the rocks drifted closer. "We need more thrust!"

  Jessub straightened his back and applied the full force of his will. A charge built up until lightning pulsed within the thrust tubes. Despite the disconcerting sight, the Portly Dragon moved through the air, howling as she went. An escort of regal dragons stayed nearby--just in case.

  * * *

  Replacing Pelivor hadn't been easy. His departure had truly left a hole in Nora Trell's crew--not that she would ever admit it to him. In every way she wished him well, and a sad part of her admitted she'd never found his match. Emmon was a capable boy; he just lacked spark. It was a pity. He'd come from a trusted family who'd long sought a share in the Trader's Wind. The boy did everything asked of him without complaint, but he had not the will to learn on his own. It had been the primary thing that had set Pelivor apart; the spark burned brightly in that one.

  Emmon would serve as first mate in Pelivor's lingering shadow. It would suffice. There were other purposes, however, for which her needs were very different. The young man was far more at home on land, and Nora was getting a better sense of him as a result. Part of her wanted to keep him ignorant in the event he jumped ship. Another part knew no one would ever believe him. In the end, she decided to see how he handled a small amount of knowledge. The first insight was that Nora feared stairs. More than two or three steps seemed like asking for trouble. Going up was perhaps not as bad, under the right conditions, but coming down would allow the boy to see. Letting others see her weaknesses wasn't something Nora was accustomed to doing, but she thought there might be a thing or two she could learn from that fool son of hers--not that she would ever admit it to him. The boy convinced his crew to take the most incredible risks, and they obeyed not out of fear or even simple respect. His crew believed in him. It was a remarkable feat considering what he asked of them.

  When they reached the stair, Emmon looked confused, clearly sensing Nora's unease. The boy certainly could read her.

  "Go up a couple steps and wait."

  Showing his better sense, Emmon nodded and did as he was told. Reaching out with his hand, he put his arm where she could grab it if needed. What the boy lacked in spark, he made up for in the oddest ways. Perhaps, over time, others would fight to get out of his shadow. Pelivor had been young and ignorant once too, and no doubt innocent. Nora reminded herself to judge the boy fairly. It just wasn't always easy.

  An orange glow emanated from heavily occluded glass windows. A fire burned within. Struggling with the old, stubborn lock, Emmon quickly became frustrated. He must have wanted to be inside as much on her behalf as his since the stairs seemed to bother him not at all. Nora remained calm and closed her eyes, waiting for the sound of the door opening.

  "I thought I heard someone out here scrabbling," Gregorric of Dorn said. "Come in. Come in."

  Hearing the man's voice instantly put Nora at ease, though she most certainly did not look down. The line of Dorn had long been a vital trade partner for the Trells, and once inside, his house was no longer terrifying--at least on the first floor. Winding stairs led to upper chambers Nora remembered as a child but no longer cared to see.

  "How's Fasha?" Gregorric asked, as he always did. Nora smiled. "How's Kenward?" he asked with a wry grin, as he always did. Nora shook her head. "What are you going to do with that boy?"

  She shrugged. Emmon watched the exchange with a mixture of awe and confusion.

  "What are you up to?"

  She grinned. "You don't really think I'm going to tell you, now do you?"

  "It would be nice. I have to tell their families something."

  "I've told you," Nora said. "I'm interviewing potential candidates to be my new first mate."

  After choking, Emmon tried to be very small if not invisible.

  "So you did," Gregorric said. "And yet, you had some pretty specific criteria that raise reasonable questions."

  "Does it raise the question of the first mate's potential share?"

  "It does," the man conceded.

  Nora nodded as if this were enough explanation.

  "Come in here, girl," Gregorric said. "I know you're listening."

  When a girl of perhaps nineteen summers emerged from the next room, dressed in sturdy traveling pants and a snug wool top, Nora thought she might lose Emmon. Smacking him on the back of the head, she said, "Stop gaping. You look like a fish."

  "This is Gret. Gret, this is Nora and that's Emmon, but then you already knew that, didn't you?"

  The girl flushed and averted her eyes. Emmon looked as if he might defend her. "Sit still," Nora whispered in his ear. Turning deep red, his ears looked as if they were on fire. "Hello, Gret. I'm Captain Trell. You may call me Captain Trell."

  "Yes, ma'am," the girl said.

  Nora gave her a look she saved for the truly daft.

  "I mean, yes, Captain Trell."

  "You sure about this one?" Nora asked Gregorric. Now the girl flushed as deeply as Emmon, just as she'd intended. "Emmon, take Gret outside. We'll meet you in the street."

  He held out his arm and escorted Gret outside.

  "You're a devious, evil woman, manipulating them already."

  "I have to start at some point," Nora said with a grin. "The boy hasn't a chance, but I gave him an edge. Maybe it'll make him feel like he's got a shot. Sometimes that's all it takes."

  Gregorric just shook his head. "Shall I help you down the stairs, m'lady?"

  Nora accepted with a nod. Asking for help was difficult. Gregorric of Dorn was an old friend, and that made it perhaps a little easier. He was wise enough never to use it against her; except perhaps by living in a place surrounded by lethal staircases. By the time they reached the streets, it was clear Emmon and Gret were uncomfortable.

  "Come on, you two," Nora said. "We need to go find some place out in the open."

  "What kind of place?" Gregorric asked.

  "Someplace where there's nothing anyone might miss if it falls down."

  Her old friend shook his head and laughed. "Go that way," he said, pointing toward the bay.

  Emmon and Gret exchanged a glance. She quickly looked away as if annoyed.

  "Let's go," Nora said. "Now you two hold hands." All three looked at her as if she were perhaps the cruelest person of all, and Nora Trell laughed. "Just kidding."

  "And people wonder where your son gets it," Gregorric said.

  Nora just made a gesture some might consider rude and headed inland, ignoring his advice and her yearning for the sea.

  * * *

  With Istra's energy caressing his skin, Pelivor reveled in the feeling, the pain of his bruised collar bone the only distraction. "How'd you know?"

  "Mael did not tell me; he showed me," Catrin said.

  The thought of the old sorcerer in Catrin's mind gave Pelivor the crawls, and he dared not think what else the dragon had showed his friend. He knew why she held her silence. He wanted answers nonetheless. The forsaken b
lanket smelled even worse when exposed to sunlight, which didn't help. Catrin wore it over her shoulders, letting it block out most but not all of Istra's light.

  When a dragon appeared on the horizon and steadily grew larger, Pelivor was not surprised. Catrin's calm demeanor confirmed his suspicion Kyrien would come for them. Riding a regent dragon with the Herald of Istra was not something many people got to do in their lives, and Pelivor couldn't help but take note of the interesting and challenging times in which he lived.

  Dropping from the sky and slamming into the ground with thunderous force, his hide crisscrossed with scars, Kyrien presented an imposing figure. Clear eyes spoke of intelligence, and they focused on Catrin and Pelivor. It was the kind of thing one might never get used to. After a trumpeting call, Kyrien extended his wing and allowed them to climb aboard his back, where a leather saddle awaited.

  "Double-check your straps," Catrin said.

  Pelivor had done little else since getting strapped in. Despite knowing he could easily float to the ground using Istra's power, he had no interest in flying loose in the middle of a dragon fight. Given where they were going, a warm welcome was unlikely.

  "You don't have to go, you know."

  "I know," Pelivor said. "You'll just have to forgive me for coming anyway."

  Catrin smiled. It was such a wonderful thing, Pelivor lamented its rarity.

  Kyrien launched himself into the air without warning, and Pelivor held on with white knuckles. In spite of all the time he had spent on airships and his skills as a flightmaster, there was nothing that compared to the powerful thrusts of a dragon's wings. Leaving the Godfist was bittersweet, knowing those who stayed within Dragonhold to serve them were now left behind. It was not without purpose, but he felt empty, hollow, and sad. Catrin felt much the same. Both were driven to save them all, even though both knew it was beyond them. The way was rarely clear nor the path easy.

  Using their combined knowledge and skills, Catrin, Pelivor, and Kyrien raced through the skies at speeds never before seen. Roiling mists erupted behind as the dragon showed off, dragging his claws along the water and leaving rainbows in the air. Once again, they were free.

  * * *

  What Emmon lacked in spark, Gret made up for in fire and spark. It was plain to see. Even Emmon seemed to sense it. He gave the girl as wide a berth as Nora would allow. Neither of these two was accustomed to life on a ship, and they would be made uncomfortable many times to come.

  "Build a fire, Emmon," Nora said. The boy looked at her as if he would ask an inane question but then thought better of it. She supposed he thought it was a test, which was good since it was. Gret risked making eye contact and shook her head. "He's a good kid," Nora said when Emmon was out of earshot gathering wood.

  Gret just grunted in response. "Didn't you say we needed a clear area?"

  "I did."

  After looking around, Gret glanced back to Nora with a somewhat sarcastic question in her eyes.

  "Yes. This spot will do nicely . . . but not yet. We've other business to attend to first. Chances are we'll want to leave in a hurry when we're done."

  Gret rolled her eyes, which pleased Nora; she needed to test the girl's temper in a controlled environment. Selecting someone with the wrong temperament could be disastrous.

  When Emmon returned, he carried a few pieces of dead wood, some dried leaves and couple of rocks. It really didn't look all that promising, but Nora wasn't giving up on him yet. To his credit, the boy started with some dry wood fiber he'd pulled from somewhere, and he placed small sticks and leaves around it, leaving the larger pieces of wood off to one side. Given the dampness in the air, he had a difficult road ahead, but he seemed determined, which was a good sign. In many ways, this was more a test of character than fire-making skills. Nora fingered the tinderbox in her pocket while Emmon smacked two rocks together, trying to generate enough spark to ignite the fibers.

  Gret rolled her eyes. Still, Emmon tried. Harder and harder, he smacked the stones together, occasionally sending small sparks where he needed them but not enough to catch. His face reddening from the effort and the embarrassment, he smacked harder and pinched his thumb. Clearly in pain, the boy did not stop, now determined not to let his ego be so crushed, in spite of the tears that ran down his cheeks. Even Gret seemed to take pity on the boy. Staring at the shavings, she looked as if her thoughts were far away. Nora watched closely, her test working even more brilliantly than even she'd intended. A spark flew, landing on the fibers and glowing orange for an instant. Looking as if it would wink out, just as the others did, it nonetheless held on, Gret's eyes never leaving it. Smoke, first just a trickle then more, leaked from around the now growing glow. Emmon blew softly, and the orange glow winked out for a moment before coming back even brighter. Soon he was adding larger and larger pieces to the fire.

  "Well done," Nora said. Gret nodded just the slightest bit. Emmon went into the woods, presumably to gather more wood and perhaps to compose himself. There would come a time for kindness between them, but she also needed to harden him some. He was too fragile. Experiences such as these would give him practice and pride. No matter what folks said about her offspring, Nora Trell had not raised soft children. Yet somehow, fostering other people's soft children was her lot in life. At least she'd had practice, she thought with a sigh.

  "Are we waiting for something?" Gret asked. Her voice was respectful, which was the only reason Nora answered.

  "Yes."

  No more words were said, which was just how Nora wanted it. Soon these two would know their places and would be better prepared to fit in on her ship. What might seem callous or cruel was for a reason and toward their ultimate benefit as well as her own.

  Frequently looking over his shoulder, Emmon returned with a small armload of twigs. From within the forest came a deep melody, almost indistinguishable at first but growing clearer and louder over time. Nora smiled. She hadn't been certain her friend would come, and hearing his voice did her good.

  "Greetings, landfriend," said a deep voice. Emmon looked ready to flee, while Gret took on a defensive posture. The girl had potential.

  "Greetings, friend Veterbas."

  "Always you must come back to land," the burly man said. He was tall and round, but none of his girth was fat. There were few men Nora would wager could defeat the druid in a fair fight, if there even was such a thing. She doubted it. "You claim to be a creature of the sea, and yet here you are again."

  Knowing he enjoyed this part very much, she let the man have his fun. What he said contained a grain of truth; never could she completely sever her ties with land.

  "But it's the trees you need, I suspect, and not dear old Veterbas. Do I see it true?"

  "You do," Nora said, knowing argument would only prolong the process. Better to let the man think himself correct and get on with it.

  "I fail to understand how you can need more wood for ships, Nora Trell. How many ships does one person need?"

  "It doesn't help that my fool son keeps sinking them or leaving them on top of mountains."

  The druid whistled at this. "To sink a ship seems an easy thing. To leave one on a mountain is a special kind of lunacy."

  "Thank the gods I have but one son."

  "So I have," Veterbas said. "So I have."

  "I need to know where I can find certain kinds of trees but all in the same place."

  Veterbas looked thoughtful as she listed a half dozen species. "You are not one to ask easy questions, Nora Trell. Why do you want to know this?"

  "I have need of the wood."

  "To quote my old friend Barabas, 'Trees are the noblest of creatures, for they provide us so much without complaint. But while the trees might not complain, I will. If you take too much, the land and animals suffer."

  "We'll replant whatever we take."

  The druid grunted, as if he'd heard it all before.

  "The land will suffer more if we do not face the storm."

  At this, Veterbas
nodded. "So it is. I do not take this lightly, Nora Trell. You must do as you say and care for the land. Do not simply plant again what you've taken, nourish the land with your very being. Commune with it and thank it for the gifts you so desire."

  "It will be so."

  Even with that said, the druid hesitated, but then he seemed to see the truth. Darkness was coming, one way or another, and perhaps the land could be spared; perhaps this offering would appease the gods. Though his thoughts appeared to be written on his face, his words surprised her. "Perhaps Kenward could be encouraged to take up some profession that requires less wood."

  "Perhaps he and Emmon could build fires together," Gret said with a wicked grin.

  Though the notion seemed to disturb Veterbas deeply, Nora Trell laughed. This girl had fire and spark to spare.

  Chapter 18

  Sacrifice is the highest form of honor.

  --The Pauper King

  * * *

  The sea called to Nora Trell, but landbound work remained. Her last stop, at least, was back along the shoreline. Consoled by the sea's scent on the air, she grinned, thinking about the night before. Gregorric had chosen well. Gret did, indeed, have talent to spare. Having had some of the ancient stories verified, Nora could move with greater confidence. It was one thing to read about power in an ancient text and quite another to see someone with a healthy dose of spark produce a breathtaking result. Neither Gret nor Emmon had spoken since. Nora understood. Gret was confused and worried but did not want it to show. Emmon most likely feared for his life. Nora couldn't blame him either. She could have warned him, but where would have been the fun in that?

  The sunset reflected from the windows of a shop, making it harder to see the man inside. He worked with a small, round-tipped hammer. Nora waved as they approached. His straggly beard moved as he smiled, and his eyes behind metal-rimmed goggles twinkled. He always saw her coming.