Dragon Alliance: Rise Against Shadow

by J. Michael Fluck

  With Draconia being fully illuminated and powered by dragon-supplied lighting crystals, at night the capital almost glowed, being truly a city of light on the raised land above the bay. Mkel did notice only a few warships were docked, which was strange for the largest port in the Alliance and home to three fleets of the large galleys, warships, and support ships that made up the mainstay of the navy. This must be due to the increased patrols and escort missions Rapierth was talking about, Mkel thought to himself.

  You are correct, my friend, Gallanth told him telepathically. At any one time, the navy has well over half its warships out to sea. Their operational tempo is putting a strain on them and the coastal Weirs, according to Rapierth. “I know the navy had decommissioned several older ships as part of the Enlightened downsizing plan after the Great War, but don’t we still have enough warships for the job?” Mkel asked.

  There are only about nine hundred ships in the entire Alliance Navy, and they have over five hundred to sea right now, Gallanth added. The bronze dragons have been very busy, providing cover and fighting the many saragwin and their sea monsters. These belligerents have been mostly preying on merchant ships of all the Alliance allies, not to mention the pirates the Freilanders have been fighting. They began to make the hard bank to the left toward the immense Befran Bridge.

  Named after one of the Founding Council members, the stone, concrete, and steel bridge spanned the six-mile-wide mouth of the Severic River connecting the communities on the south shore to the city limits of Draconia. The bridge would not have been possible to construct without the combined knowledge of human, dwarf, and elf builders and strengthened by dwarven concrete and steel. It stood one hundred fifty feet above the water in its center, allowing all but the largest galleys and warships to pass. Gold, silver, and bronze dragons could even fly under its center portion between the largest supporting pillars. The brass and copper dragons could go under it closer to the shore, thus making a tighter turn and enabling the smaller dragons to gain on the faster larger dragons, all of which had to fly under the bridge as part of the race.

  Mkel looked to his left at the docks and noticed that people were gathering to watch the makeshift wing of dragons flying past. Most of those he could see through his crossbow’s sight were waving, for almost all of the usual flight paths for the Capital dragons were kept on the north side of the Weir and the city. This avoided any issues with wind wash of especially the bigger silver and gold dragons. Gallanth followed his brother, who slightly angled away from the docks and toward the center of the mouth of the mighty Severic and the Befran Bridge.

  Falcanth descended to just seventy-five feet above the water, skimming the surface, with a large spray from the downdraft of his gold wings separating the water in his wake. A dragon, especially a bronze or larger, could capsize a small ship by flying over it from the wash of its wings. Gallanth lined up just on his brother’s left while Talonth moved in on the right. The remaining dragons flew down and kept just behind the three leaders. Mkel could see the people on the bridge move to the side to see the wing approach and wave. The dragons split to miss a barge coming from up river. The barge captain looked very surprised, if not a little taken aback, by the number of dragons streaking by him, showering his craft with water spray.

  Gallanth and Talonth started to fall back and line up behind Falcanth to go under the bridge. The center portion had the widest distance between its great supporting stone pillars and steel beams. Mkel looked back to see Selenth and several other copper and brass dragons shift to either side of the silver and bronzes behind him. The center span was barely a hundred yards wide, which while it could easily accommodate even Gallanth’s or Michenth’s wingspan, two dragons could not fly through it at the same time. The bottom of the bridge stood fifty yards above the water in the center to allow all but the tallest of ships to sail partially up the river, until the currents only allowed oar-powered or dragonstone-assisted vessels to proceed. It would be next to impossible for two dragons to fly under it at the same time. One flying directly over the other would create very unstable turbulence and likely cause both to crash into the water, or hit the bridge itself.

  Mkel could feel the spray hit the crystal visor of his helmet and bead off of his dragon hide armor from the wash that Falcanth was making as he skimmed just over the water. He didn’t want to turn his weapons’ partial magic shield to block the wind or water, with his riding jacket being waterproof anyway. Since it was a nice day, he wanted to feel of the rushing air, but then Gallanth was not going nearly at full speed, which they would be flying at for the actual race.

  Falcanth flew under the bridge first, with Gallanth right behind him and several dragons on each side. This must be an impressive sight to see from the bridge, Mkel thought to himself. He looked back to see the one-hundred-twenty-foot-wide bridge engulfed in spray as they sped away at over sixty miles an hour. That will do us good in winning over support for the dragons among the civilians and citizens of Draconia, Mkel said to himself.

  Most of the people on the bridge were happy to see us fly, Gallanth said to him telepathically. Those that prescribe to the POE propaganda would not have been swayed either way, my friend.

  “I know, it’s just that the one thing that I loathe, besides missing Michen, is dealing with the Enlightened attitudes and false intellectual espousing,” he replied. Mkel, I think you will like this. Falcanth, guide us toward that pleasure barge with the POE standards on it; I think they need a fly-over, Gallanth stated with an unusually mischievous tone in his voice.

  Yes, my brother, a cleansing is what is needed here, Falcanth replied as he slightly veered toward the Enlightened senator’s barge. This portion of the river was supposed to be clear of boat traffic, for the Capital Weir administrative personnel arranged it with the local naval and river patrols. This Enlightened senator seemed to think he was above the rules. Mkel could see the flamboyant rainbow-like flag that the Enlightened use as a makeshift standard, as well as several similarly dressed persons on the craft. He recognized it as one of Tekend’s pleasure boats. Tekend, a very outspoken and overimbibed Enlightened senator from Ferranor, was also a habitual drunkard and former Alliance Navy arbitrator who did his minimum three years of service to allow him to hold office. His family controlled several shipping businesses and were either wealthy merchants or arbitrators that specialized in the sea trades. This included Shidanese and exotic wines and spirits, but other goods as well, especially those of questionable nature. Strangely enough, there had been almost no attacks against ships bearing their family standard, even in highly pirated waters, according to the Freilanders.

  Falcanth and Gallanth moved next to each other, almost touching wingtips, with Talonth and Strikenth doing the same right behind them. Mkel could see them all on the deck, trying to wave the dragons off, but it was a fruitless attempt. Gallanth and Falcanth flew right over the ship, the wind wash from their immense wings sending a good-sized spray over the deck. All on board were either soaked or knocked down as the rush of water and wind rocked the boat violently. The two silvers then added insult to injury by performing the same maneuver, followed by ten other dragons. “This will be heard at the senate gathering,” Mkel said to Gallanth telepathically. Let them bluster, he was in the wrong. As an arbitrator, he should have known the law, or at least known the consequences of disregarding it, Gallanth explained with a slightly disgusted tone to his mind voice. Mkel smiled, but he knew Tekend and his ilk were going to be very difficult to deal with, especially if he was called upon to testify on his initiative for veterans.

  Falcanth rose in altitude and turned to the left after several miles to follow a tributary of the Severic to a small mountainous area just to the east of Draconia. This area was known as the Maiden Mountains because of the relatively small area the mountains encompassed; they were usually shrouded in a veil of fog and clouds. The race followed a series of shallow canyons in these mountains, requiring
those flying through them to carefully navigate and make several tight turns. There were several paths through the mountains that different dragons found more suitable. The brass dragons took the shorter but more intricate path because of their smaller size and tight maneuverability. Copper dragons took these paths as well, being able to grapple and run along the canyon walls, for their legs were better suited for jumping, sprinting, and digging than other dragons. This enabled them to very effectively maneuver in tight places close to the ground.

  The gold, silver, and bronze dragons were forced to take the longer way through, to accommodate their greater wingspans. Brass dragons, while not small by any standard, had an average wingspan of forty-five yards, which was over a third less than a gold. Copper dragons were only a slightly bit larger, but they had stubbier wings, limiting their air speed and flying endurance.

  Once they rounded the small waterfall, the larger metallics veered right and the smaller ones went left. Gallanth followed Falcanth through the large canyon, making the turns and twists to avoid the rock walls but still trying to maintain good speed. Mkel was impressed at the maneuverability of the large gold and silver dragons in these relatively tight places. They emerged from the last turn over the forested area north of the mountains and immediately turned west back toward Draconia and the finish line at the Capital Weir.

  The brass and copper dragons actually came out of the canyons way ahead of them, but they caught up quickly. The final leg of the race took them past the northern boundary of the city and then to the Weir, an almost straight shot to the training and parade grounds. Mkel could see hundreds of people lined up on the buildings, wall, and grounds to watch the dragons fly by. If it weren’t for the POEs, who insisted that the dragons not fly over the city to not offend anyone or scare young children, the citizens of Draconia would see more dragons in the air, and closer to them at that, Mkel thought to himself. You humans are confusing at times, my rider, but I guess that is what makes you so interesting, Gallanth said, which made Mkel smile, although he felt that he would rather fight the chromatics again than have a verbal brawl with the Enlightened senators.

  Falcanth and Gallanth, followed by the silvers and bronzes, overtook the brass and copper dragons just prior to reaching the parade grounds. They all streamed past the central section of the stone carved amphitheatre with several thousand waving and cheering people around the finish line. They then circled back up and into the Weir. So much for the supposed hatred and fear of the dragons according to the Enlightened, Mkel said to himself. As soon as they landed, he planned on going to the range to practice up for the archery competitions, also to give Gallanth time to talk to Falcanth and the other Capital dragons as well.

  After they landed on the Weir grounds beside the immense lake, Mkel dismounted and slung Markthrea over his shoulder and started to walk to the northern entrance to meet with Jodem. All the dragons started to move to the back chamber to have an informal Dragon Council meeting with Michenth. He heard a voice yell to him from across the wide grounds of the Weir.

  “Captain Mkel, wait up!” a figure shouted from several hundred yards away. He turned around to see who it was and recognized Scandalon, walking fast toward him, cradling his dragonstone crossbow. Scandalon was the rider of the brass dragon Krysanth, who was wingman to Selenth and Dkert. His crossbow was very similar to Mkel’s, and he was also a master shooter. Scandalon used this skill to fly very effective cover for the copper dragon and his Weirleader, especially since Dkert’s pick/mace was limited in its long-range capability. They served together on a few occasions and shot at several competitions as well.

  “Well, my friend, nice to see you; will you join us for a little practice this afternoon?” Mkel called back to Scandalon as Jodem appeared from the opposite side of the Weir.

  “Good to see you too, Captain, I’ve been waiting for a challenge since earlier this summer from the Talinor tournament,” Scandalon stated as he walked up to Mkel and shook his hand.

  “That was a good match, but if I recall, Jodem won the precision match and we tied for the long range,” Mkel answered with a smile.

  “Yes, and as I remember, you two only beat me at the six-hundred-yard match by a couple of points,” Jodem said, weighing into the conversation as he approached.

  “Master Wizard, honored to meet you again, and under happy circumstances as well,” Scandalon said, greeting Jodem with a slight bow and handshake.

  “Enough reminiscing on matches past, those are spent arrows; we have a tournament to shoot in tomorrow, so let us move on to the Capital’s firing range,” Jodem said as he turned toward the north entrance of the Weir. They all followed him out of the mountain, down the main foot path, and to the right, onto the half-mile-wide archery range next to the parade field. They decided to practice the precision shooting on the fifty- and one-hundred-yard range first, setting up in a prone position on the mats at the covered firing points. Archery had become a very popular sport in the Alliance, encouraged by the government, both for self-defense and for the defense of the republic itself in times of need, as well as if the government ever became too unjust.

  A small group of engineers and master craftsmen, who had created the new repeating crossbows, came out to watch the three master shooters fire. “Dragonrider, Master Wizard, do you mind if we observe your practice? We want to see your techniques. Captain Mkel; we heard of your legendary speed and accuracy, and your compatriots’ skill is also well known by us,” one of the robed craftsmen stated.

  “No problem here; we’ll shoot a little at this course of fire and then go to the long range for our dragonstone weapons,” Mkel answered. Jodem called for the targets; the halflings and workers in the pits raised the densely compacted hay bale target butts with the five circular targets printed on a thin sheet of paper. Each target was the diameter of a large grapefruit, with smaller concentric rings drawn inside, the center circle just thicker than the diameter of Mkel’s bolts. All three settled down into their positions, tightening their slings around their nonfiring arms, which supported the weight of their crossbows. Mkel and Scandalon loaded a clip of ten bolts into their bows (Jodem had already loaded his).

  Mkel looked through his special sight and settled the aiming crosshair onto the center of the target. The magnification of the dragonstone-powered sight brought the fifty-yard target so close and with such clarity he could count the veins on a fly’s wings. He exhaled slowly and waited until the crosshairs settled inside the center circle of the target, and then he smoothly and slowly squeezed the trigger. The one pound of pressure that it took to fire the weapon crisply broke, and the bolt was sent sizzling toward the target. His first sighting shot went slightly high and right, which was typical of the practice bolts versus his masterwork quarrels with their deadly dwarven or mithril pointed heads or his explosive tips. They flew just slightly off. His sight automatically adjusted for the new projectiles, and his next four shots cut the center ring nicely. He then proceeded to fire at the record targets. Five shots per target, four targets per paper; after he completed firing, the pit crews dropped the target butts and replaced the paper.

  This was a well-rehearsed process, and they had the target back up in moments. He fired each shot with great consistency, paying careful attention to the wind, for when shooting at a target so precise, any small draft could shift the strike of the bolt just enough to miss that center ring. After he shot the twenty record shots, he broke position and got to his feet, taking off his riding/armor jacket and glove he used to make himself steadier and dampen his pulse during precision firing such as this. He had missed just one center shot, Scandalon missed three, and Jodem missed one as well. “Not bad,” he said to his two companions. “We did rather well.”

  “Yes, but even with a score of one point down, there will be stiff competition from the elves and the other dragonstone competitors,” Jodem forewarned.

  “Well, still, not bad; how ab
out one or two more targets, and we’ll proceed to the long range,” Mkel commented.

  “Sounds excellent,” Scandalon replied as he began to prepare for another relay. The next round of targets had Mkel dropping only one point, Scandalon dropped two, and Jodem cleaned the target with a perfect score. They then moved to positions farther down the firing line, where the target berm was six hundred yards away and quickly set up again. Jodem spoke into the dragonstone gem on his staff to signal the crew to raise the targets up at the far distance. The frame holding the butts rose from behind the earthen mounds to reveal a large three-foot-diameter circle target that had a one-foot center ring, very difficult to hit especially in high wind.

  The winds were fairly moderate and coming straight from the left. Mkel knew this would drive his bolts to the right and slightly down, as the small fletching made the bolts rotate in a clockwise direction to make them more accurate. His sight had already compensated by placing the aiming circle with an X to the left and slightly high of the center of the target. He let his sling take all the weight of the heavy crossbow and watched the sight reticule gradually go still as he slowed his breathing. He let out a final exhale, aimed, and smoothly squeezed the trigger, which was neatly tucked by the front pad of his trigger finger. The bow jumped slightly from the recoil but his sight picture instantly fell back on to his original aiming point. He held the position deadly still for at least two seconds and then looked for his bolt’s impact. The bolt sank to the fletching at the bottom right of the center circle. He made a small but quick adjustment to his sight and proceeded to fire the next twenty shots.