Dragonjacks: Book 1 - The Shepherd: A Dragons of Cadwaller Novel

by Vickie Knestaut

  As the dragons took the ground, the grass bowed away from them. Tyber held his breath. His heart thundered. Going up against the dragonjacks hadn’t filled him with the terror that coursed through him now. He shifted in his saddle, clutched the lip, and looked to Ander, waiting for orders.

  Ander untied his restraints and slid from the saddle. He started toward Brath. The commander began to untie his own restraints.

  Ander held up a palm. “You stay with the dragons. Keep a hand on your bow.”

  Brath nodded, and though Tyber couldn’t see his face, he imagined the older man felt some relief at the idea of remaining in the saddle. He drew his bow from the gusset hook and an arrow from his quiver.

  Ander motioned for the rest of them to come down.

  “Be careful,” he said. “They’re probably inside, but they could be behind the cottage as well. Watch the roof. It would be a good place to stage an ambush.”

  “Ambush?” a dragonjack named Taffer said. He shook his head. “Storbin wouldn’t try such a thing. He knows wild well that if he puts up any kind of fight, The Shepherd will have his hide decorating his walls. His family’s, too.”

  “I don’t make a habit of underestimating desperate men, and I suggest you don’t either,” Ander said.

  Tyber glanced at Halton, recalling the look in his eyes when he said that he’d do anything to save Gurvi. It had been the look of a man nearing desperation. A man who, through every step of burying Sanda, thought about what he’d do when it was his time to bury Gurvi.

  Now, he simply stared ahead, to the cottage, his face tight and focused, his eyes squinting against the mid-morning light.

  “Keep your arrows in your quivers. Keep your bows on your shoulders. I want this to go smoothly. I don’t want anyone to get hurt today.”

  Taffer’s face folded into a look of mild disbelief. “That’s the whole point. You can’t let guys like Storbin not pay his due. Then you get all the fools around here thinking they can ignore The Shepherd. Next thing you know, we don’t have what we need to feed the dragons. Guys like Storbin need to know without a doubt what the price of not paying is.”

  “Yeah,” another dragonjack said with a nod. “We’re not here just to collect, but to make an example for others. That’s what Sirvon always said.”

  “What do you think we’ll find in there?” Tyber asked, his words still a little slurred around his swollen lip.

  “What?” Taffer asked. “Well, we’ll find Storbin. And his family. Has a wife and three or four girls. A couple boys. One boy’s almost a man—”

  “I mean,” Tyber said, gesturing at the cottage, “what do you think we’ll find inside there? Do you expect that we’re going to find all the copper or silver that he’s been keeping from The Shepherd? That we’ll just walk in and find that he spent the money on some tapestries, or maybe a silver serving set? A nice set of—”

  “That’s enough,” Ander said, his voice like the flat side of a blade.

  “No,” Tyber said with a shake of his head. “I’m serious. What does The Shepherd expect us to walk away with? There’s obviously nothing in that shack of any value.”

  “The goats,” Halton said.

  “And we make an example of Storbin,” Taffer added. “Everyone pays. One way or the other, everyone pays.”

  “We’ll have a look around,” Ander said. “I’ll definitely want to have a word with Storbin. We’ll see what he has to say. What he has to offer.”

  Taffer shook his head and hitched the bow slung over his shoulder. “I don’t really see the point in talking. He’ll just lie. Tell you a sob story about his goats. How they got the bloat. It’s the same story they all tell you.”

  “All the same,” Ander said. “Let’s assess the situation first.”

  “Assess the situation?” Taffer asked, then let out a derisive laugh. “Sirvon never assessed the situation. We just went in with knives drawn and fists balled and they fell to their knees before us, licking our boots and begging our favor.”

  “And how well did that work for Sirvon?” Tyber asked. “Where is he today?”

  Taffer turned to Tyber, his expression darkening. “If you hadn’t killed his dragon, we’d be done here already. He would have everything Storbin—”

  “Enough!” Ander snapped. “Both of you. I’m not out here to discuss the matter. This isn’t a royal court, and I’m not going to grow old talking the matter over. Let’s go. Taffer, Ren, Samsen, you go around to the left, stay in the grass where you have some cover. Watch the corner of the house and the roof. Halton, Tyber, and I will go around the other side. When we get to the cottage, Ren will have a peak around the back. Taffer and Samsen, you two will watch the grass around us.”

  Taffer shook his head, grinning as if amused by Ander’s foolishness. “I’m telling you, Storbin is in there cowering. Ain’t no need for any of this.” He waved a hand at the cottage.

  “Humor me,” Ander said, taking half a step toward Taffer. “Or otherwise I might find I have no use for you.”

  Taffer straightened up, all signs of defiance gone from his face. He stared at the slightly shorter Ander for a few seconds, then nodded.

  “Good. Let’s go,” Ander said, then started around the rough patch of yard, keeping to the grass.

  By the time they reached the corner of the cottage, Ren had already slipped around the side. A few seconds later, he re-emerged and signaled no one, then pointed to the rear of the cottage.

  Ander nodded, then stepped before the windowless cottage. The door was nothing but patched and sewn leather stretched over a frame. There were no hinges. It appeared to lean back against the door frame.

  “Storbin!” Ander called as he stood beside the door. “My name is Ander. I want to have a word with you.”

  Tyber stood with his back to the wall of the cottage and watched Ren as they waited for a response. Ren stared firmly at the door, his hand clutched around the grip of his bow as it sat on his shoulder.

  “Storbin?” Ander called. “Is there anyone in there?”

  Tyber looked out across the ragged yard dotted with piles of goat droppings. On the other side, Rius stared at him from just behind Verana.

  This was for Rius. This was to keep her safe. To keep himself safe for her. He was playing along as a matter of survival.

  “Storbin?” Ander called. “I can’t leave here without talking to you. This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed. Not if you cooperate.”

  Ander reached out slowly, wrapped his fingers around the edge of the door, and tipped it forward. It fell to the ground with a soft sound like a last, exasperated breath.

  “Ren,” Ander whispered, then pointed to the open doorway.

  Ren’s eyes widened briefly with disbelief, and then the disbelief was gone. He nodded his understanding, then began to draw an arrow from the quiver.

  Ander shook his head, held up his palm to stop him. He nodded toward the open door.

  Ren lowered the arrow back into place, then slipped around the doorway and disappeared inside.

  Tyber closed his eyes and listened.

  “It’s empty,” Ren called.

  Tyber tipped the back of his head against the stone and sod wall.

  “You really aren’t cut out for this, are you?” Halton asked from Tyber’s side.

  Tyber shook his head. “Takes some getting used to. That’s for sure.”

  Ander entered the cottage. Taffer followed, and Tyber followed him. The doorway narrowed some as it passed through the thick walls, forcing him to dip his head. He stepped onto bare ground. His eyes began to adjust to the light. Instead of finding Ren and Ander and Taffer looking around, searching through things, they just stood in one place, taking in the emptiness surrounding them. A pile of blankets sat in a corner. A plank of stained wood a little more than half Tyber’s height rested against the wall beside Ren. A spade stood in a corner. A dented, tin pail sat on the ground beside it. The place smelled of mud. Mud and smoke and sour milk.

&n
bsp; “He’s outside,” Taffer said, then turned his face to the doorway. “He’s outside!” he called.

  They exited the cottage and stepped back out into the glare of the sun. Tyber squinted and looked at the dragons. Brath sat atop Irvess, a bow and an arrow in his lap.

  “Ren, Tyber,” Ander said, turning back to them, “you two take your dragons and fly around back. Herd the goats back toward us.”

  “Toward you?” Tyber asked.

  “That’s an order. Keep an eye on the grass. Watch for movement. When Storbin realizes what we’re doing, he might act.”

  “Come on,” Ren said, grasping Tyber by the arm and pulling him along.

  They went back to Rius and Maybelle, and per Ander’s orders, they flew a wide circle around the cottage, past the goats in the grass. Then they banked in toward the cottage and sent the goats leaping and racing back toward Ander and the others. Ander, Taffer, and Samsen ran about, grappling with the goats long enough to slit their throats with long knives.

  The goats made a terrible sound even over the beating of Rius’ wings.

  Once all of the goats had been killed, Ander called Tyber and Ren from the sky, and they were pressed to help bind the goats, tying them up so that their carcasess could be slung over the backs of the dragons and ferried to the weyr.

  Tyber’s mind shut off. He watched his hands work, his fingers knotting either end of a rope beneath the chins of a pair of goats, their slit throats leering at him. He carried the pair to Rius with Ren’s help, and together, they flung them over the dragon’s back behind her wings. She turned her neck back and sniffed at them, then started to twist about as if trying to figure out how to contort herself in such a way that she could sink her jaws into what otherwise should be her lunch.

  Tyber turned away and helped Halton toss a pair of goats over Gurvi’s back. Blood trickled down the dragon’s violet hide. A thick rivulet of it tracked down her scales. He watched it go, slowing as it reached the bottom of her side, where her belly started to curve beneath her. And there, beside the trail of blood, a slick of dampness leaked from beneath the scales.

  Unlike Rius, Gurvi only turned her face to the goats. She didn’t attempt to contort herself around. She looked perfectly resigned to whatever would befall her.

  Tyber turned to the waist-high grass, watching for movement. Watching for Storbin or his family. At first, their decision seemed like a blessing, their willingness to remain hidden until the business of the dragonjacks was done. But as Taffer and Samsen and Halton and Ander had slaughtered the goats, Tyber and Ren whipping around on their dragons, driving the goats into a frenzy of fear, there had to be a growing sense of watching their own slow deaths find them.

  The goats had died quickly. Storbin and his family would not be so lucky. They had nothing now. Time would pick them off. They would starve. Slow deaths. There was nowhere they could go for help, and this cursed land would give them nothing but the hard stone and the sun’s brutal glare.

  Tyber turned to Halton, who cleaned his hands on a rag, his back to Tyber.

  This had to stop.

  Chapter 25

  As soon as Rius’ claws touched the ground of the weyr yard, Tyber thrust a hand into his saddlebag and pulled out a knife. He leaned back over the cantle as far as he could, but the tip of his blade didn’t quite reach the rope that held his dragon’s cargo.

  He sighed, undid his restraints, and stepped to the ground. The dragonjack next to him grabbed one of the goats hanging from his dragon, then flung it up and over, releasing the cargo while preserving the rope.

  Tyber stepped up to one of the goats hanging from Rius and grabbed the animal by the legs. Behind him, a thump hit the dirt. Tyber glanced over his shoulder. Two goats lay still and tangled beside Gurvi.

  Halton stepped over Gurvi’s tail, looked at Tyber, then turned to the goats. He crouched, grabbed the rope to drag the pair off to the weyr like Taffer was doing. But Halton froze and stared at Gurvi’s rear leg. His shoulders drooped.

  Tyber released the goat. Rius shifted and swung her face back, then tried again to curl around herself and get at the goat. It would have been a funny sight any other time, like watching a dog chase its tail. But there was no humor to be had this day.

  Halton hung his head.

  Two violet scales had fallen away from Gurvi’s rear leg, just below and to the side of her knee. The pink flesh underneath was speckled white. A boil would soon appear like the one that was starting to build on her front leg, near the wrist.

  Still crouching, his arms resting on his knees, Halton looked back at Tyber, lifting his face and squinting against the early afternoon sun high over the weyr.

  He shook his head at Tyber. “The worst part is, when I first met you, I thought you might be able to do something about this. You raised my hopes just so they had that much further to fall.”

  Tyber swallowed. His tongue poked at the hole where his tooth used to be, and a spark of pain passed through him. He opened his mouth to speak, but found nothing he was free to say.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally managed. “I wish there was something more I could do. Something better.”

  He looked at Ander. The dragoneer had already flipped Verana’s cargo from her back and was dragging it back toward the shadows of the weyr.

  “Me, too,” Halton said. “I can’t say for sure, but I think it’s gotten worse since Pendro died. Maybe it just feels worse. I thought they would recover. Dragons always seem to bounce back from everything. But when Pendro died… By the eyes of the gods above, it can’t look any more hopeless, can it?”

  Tyber watched Ander disappear into the shadows of the weyr, the carcasses dragging behind him. There was only one thing that could be done. There were people who might be able to save these dragons yet.

  Tyber interrupted Rius’ attempt to stretch her neck far enough to snag the goat hanging from her back, then grabbed the goat himself. He flipped it over Rius’ back, and as she spun around in a tight circle, Tyber held up his finger.

  “No. It’s not dinner time yet. These aren’t yours to eat.”

  Rius looked from the goats to Tyber, then back to the goats as if her rider was simply being unreasonable and would come to his senses in a few minutes.

  Tyber snatched the rope and dragged the goats across the yard and into the weyr. Coolness enveloped him, and it was such a relief to be out from under the glare of the sun that he could overlook the sour smell of the weyr.

  He dropped his haul beside the others and waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Taffer and Samsen were heading back out to their mounts. They stepped around Ren as he dragged in two more goats.

  Ander slipped past him, heading back out to Verana.

  Tyber fell in beside him.

  “We need to talk,” Tyber said.

  “About what?” Ander said, his voice low. “I thought that went well. No one got hurt.”

  Taffer and Samsen approached Halton, who was still crouched beside Gurvi’s haunch. They asked him what the problem was. He gestured at the dragon’s knee.

  “Gurvi has a new lesion,” Tyber said to Ander. “A couple scales fell off today. Near her knee. She’s got that same speckled flesh underneath.”

  Ander sighed and shook his head.

  “We have to do something,” Tyber said.

  He scrunched his eyes as they stepped out into the glare again. Immediately, his scalp felt uncomfortably warm.

  “I caution you against trying anything else,” Ander said, his voice even lower as he stopped before Verana. “We can’t push our luck any more.”

  “Halton thinks it's getting worse since Pendro died. I don’t know if he’s right. I mean, we didn’t see how fast these lesions came on to begin with, but it’s definitely not getting any better.”

  Ander reached up under the saddle lip and took the rein from its hook. He looked at Tyber as he wrapped the braided leather cord around his hand, then glanced over Tyber’s shoulder before speaking low. “This is no
t our problem, Tyber. It’s not why we are here. I’m sorry that these dragons are so sick, but this is exactly why there are laws forbidding the people to have them.”

  Tyber glanced over his shoulder. Taffer was bent over, his hands on his knees, his nose inches from Gurvi’s lesion. Samsen stood with a hand on Halton’s shoulder as he crouched next to his dragon. They watched Taffer inspect the wound.

  “Come here,” Tyber said, jerking his head over toward Rius. “I have an idea.”

  Ander looked up to Verana. A strange look passed over his face. A look of homesickness. But then it was gone as if the sun had driven it away. He turned to the weyr, called for one of the boys, and when one came racing out, he handed off Verana’s rein and followed Tyber back to Rius. They went around to Rius’ saddlebag so that the dragon stood between them and the dragonjacks. Tyber rested his palm on Rius’ side. She turned to look at him and sniffed the air as if hoping he might have a bit of goat meat with him.

  “We have to take them to Aerona,” Tyber said, his voice near a whisper as Ander lowered his face and turned his ear to Tyber.

  Ander cupped his hand and rubbed at his upper lip, covering his mouth. “The dragonjacks? I intend to, but our priority is still—”

  “No. The dragons. Gurvi and Irvess and the others. We have to take them back to Aerona. Trysten and the dragon healers might be able to do something for them.”

  Ander shook his head. “Remember our priority here.”

  “I’m not forgetting it,” Tyber said. He touched his fingertips to his split lip. “Believe me, I’m not. But can’t we do more than one thing at a time? Once we catch The Shepherd—”

  “No, Tyber,” Ander said, his brow growing tight. “That is not how you handle priorities. What do you think the dragonjacks will do after we capture The Shepherd? They’re not just going to hand over their mounts to us.”

  “Halton told me he would do anything to save Gurvi.”

  “I don’t doubt it, but you’re not exactly the trustworthy one when it comes to the care and healing of dragons around here. They are not going to trust you, especially after Pendro.”