The Blind Dragon

by Peter Fane

  Anna scooted back away from the ridge, crawled to the eastern edge of the warehouse roof, and peered over. It was a sheer drop down the cliff side into the mist and green forests below. She nodded. They could do it. Straight out and down. Land on the southeastern launch platform. It was closest, and it was the biggest.

  "Come here."

  Dagger obeyed.

  "Put your head down."

  Dagger put his head down.

  Anna took off her belt, looped it around Moondagger's neck, and latched the belt's tongue on the last buckle hole. She pulled the belt tight. There was about a palm's breadth of space between the belt and the white scales of Dagger's neck. His crest hadn't been trimmed for harness yet, so she'd have to lay on it. It would be uncomfortable, but if this plan didn't work, she'd have bigger problems than a few cuts on her chest.

  "We'll launch and turn to the right." She pointed, not because he could see but out of habit. "Aim at that platform there. You dive too steep, you won't be able to pull up, and we're both dead. You dive too shallow, we'll fly over the platform, and only the Great Sisters know what'll happen to us then. Got it?"

  Dagger stared at her, hissed, and spread his wings to show her how strong they were.

  "Good." She nodded, realizing that she wasn't worried at all that they'd make it. "Let's go."

  Dagger scooted forward, his white tail rasping across the slate tiles. Anna stepped over his neck and smoothed down his spinal crest. She sat and leaned forward along his neck, pushing his crest flat with her chest.

  "How's that?" she asked.

  Dagger cocked his head slightly. Anna slid her arms beneath her belt. The backs of her arms were against Dagger's scales. She closed her elbows so that the belt was locked between her forearms and biceps. She pulled a couple of times against the strap. Should be all right. Beneath her elbows, Dagger's neck was whip-strong muscle wrapped in smooth white scale.

  "When you launch, you've gotta lift your head a bit to keep me horizontal."

  Without pause, almost like he couldn't wait, Dagger stretched his head over the roof's edge. He held himself and Anna there, perfectly still, perfectly balanced above the precipice. The drop was dizzying and deadly and—oh Great Sisters—she was strapped to a baby dragon with a belt.

  Anna closed her elbows hard on her makeshift harness. She pressed her hips against Dagger's spine, wrapped her legs around his neck, and locked her ankles.

  "Go."

  A muscular grunt, a crunch of slate, and Moondagger dove out into the air.

  25

  OF COURSE, ANNA had ridden dragons countless times before—as a squire.

  She'd already experienced the crazy weightlessness that steals your breath when you plummet earthwards like a falling meteor. She'd already tasted the thrill of a sheering, leaf-splitting roll through the lush fissures of Jorgun Gorge. She'd already felt the heartbreaking awe that wells up in your chest when a slow climb through purple twilight opens onto moonlit landscapes of endless, violet cloud.

  But Anna had never ridden a dragon by herself.

  And she most definitely had never ridden a dragon that could be rightfully called her own.

  So when Dagger leapt from the rooftop, something clicked in her mind.

  It was a kind of certainty. A kind of clarity. All her fear vanished. And with it, all her rage. The past, the present, the future—all disappeared. In their place, there was nothing but a crystallized jewel of the now, a crazy, dizzying joy that seemed to radiate a holy light from the very center of things.

  And in that frozen moment, in that eternal flash of time, Anna Dyer knew—knew with a certainty that defied all reason—that she would spend her entire life, however long or short, with Moondagger in the sky.

  26

  FOR THE FIRST time, Moondagger saw everything clearly.

  This was how it was supposed to be.

  This was how it was meant to be.

  This and only this.

  He and his rider.

  In the sky.

  Forever.

  27

  THEIR MAIDEN FLIGHT lasted all of ten breaths and ended badly.

  But Anna didn't care.

  And she knew Dagger didn't care, either.

  Their target, the armory's southeastern launch platform, was enormous. It'd been built specifically for Voidbane about a hundred years ago and was cantilevered from the cliff side on an intricate lattice of iron trusses. All told, it was well over a hundred paces across. And that didn't include the flight ramp, which could be lowered like a drawbridge on massive chains to give the largest dragons more room for takeoff and landing.

  They approached the platform smoothly, a gliding arc descending cleanly from launch point to destination. No tricks. No horseplay. Just tight, proficient flying, the wind whipping her dark hair, the morning sun warming her face, their hearts pounding in each other's chests. It took everything she had not to shriek like a triumphant demon.

  But Moondagger was a newborn. And, obviously, he'd never tried to land with a rider before. Or land at all, for that matter. So when they neared the platform, he flared his wings a bit too late and they came in too fast, skidding, hopping, and bobbling across the platform—white serpent tail slapping crazily against the deck, rear claws furrowing wood, Anna's legs coming loose, dangling and flopping everywhere—before Dagger managed to dig in his claws, trip, and belly slide a good ten paces while Anna, still belt-locked to her dragon's neck, nearly dislocated her shoulders, the impact punching her wind out like a fist to the gut.

  "Good morning, Miss Dyer." A deep voice behind her. "Looks like we've got guests, eh, Gregory?"

  There was a murmur of good-natured laughter. Dagger grunted, pulled himself up, and shook himself off, nothing hurt but his pride. Anna turned, speechless, lungs on fire, and found herself standing in front of Master Zar and two dozen armorers and assistants.

  They were standing and sitting around a large table set on the threshold between the armory proper and the launch platform. Most of them held their morning tea—several of them caught mid-sip, cups halfway to their mouths. Master Zar and little Gregory, his old messenger dragon, sat at the center of the group, near the middle of the table. In front of little Gregory waited a huge, steaming meat pie. Gregory sat hunched on the pie's edge, caught mid-action, his little yellow claws sunk into the pie's flaky crust, his faded blue wings stretched over his feast. He stared balefully at Anna and Moondagger with his milky eyes, as if they'd just interrupted the beginning of his special meal. Which they had, apparently.

  Anna tried to say something, but she could barely breathe, so the noise she made sounded more like a sick frog than attempted speech.

  "Interesting entrance, Miss Dyer." Master Zar raised a bushy, purplish eyebrow. He chomped a bite out of an apple. He had thick teeth, like a donkey's. "Your dragon's blind, your tunic's half gone, and you've lost your belt. Mind your trousers, girl."

  Anna looked at the Master imploringly, pulled up her sagging pants, and tried to speak, raising her hand lamely as she tried to catch her breath.

  Master Zar was Anorian, so he was about a pace and a half tall and about a pace wide. Like all dwarves of Anor, his skin was a pale purple. He actually looked less like a dwarf and more like the squat, purple trunk of an old ironwood tree. His arms were thick. His shoulders were hard, purple stones. His eyes were deeply set beneath shaggy, purple brows. He was mostly bald, and what remained of his hair he shaved to the skin. As an Anorian veteran who'd served in the Silver King's legions, he proudly carried a large, white tattoo of the Dallanar Sun at the center of his forehead, the six-pointed star nearly as large as his hand. He wore a leather armorer's apron over a sleeveless wool tunic and wool pants. Thick, iron-shod boots clad his wide feet.

  "We were just about to sing for little Gregory here." Master Zar stroked the small dragon's crest. "Four hundred and four years old today. Thought Master Khondus would be joining us. He's late."

  From the edge of his meat pie, Gregory gla
red at Anna, squeaked his displeasure, and showed her his single remaining yellow fang.

  "Congratulations," Anna managed to croak. She tried to take a deep breath, but it still hurt too much.

  "Shall we, lads?" Master Zar asked. "With me now."

  Together, Zar and his team sang:

  Long may you live, Greg'ry, live many years!

  Live long till long white hair covers your ears!

  And if black war, Greg'ry, takes you away,

  Live long in song, Greg'ry, live long we pray!

  "Dig in, little friend." Master Zar smiled.

  Gregory didn't need to be told twice. He promptly buried his little blue nose, his snout, and then his entire head into the meat pie, champing and smacking.

  Dagger licked his fangs.

  "So." Master Zar rubbed his palm like he always did over the white Dallanar Sun on his forehead. He looked from Moondagger to Anna, one bushy purple eyebrow raised. "What's this all about?"

  28

  IT TOOK ANNA about a quarter bell to relate her story. She told it uninterrupted, for the most part. When she reached the part about Moondagger burning Floren d'Rent and his men in the lower stables, one of the young assistants had cheered and was promptly told to shut his trap by Master Zar, who listened to Anna's tale in deadly earnest, stroking the white tattoo on his forehead all the while. Her final description of House Dradón's men murdered and piled in the upper barracks prompted hisses of rage.

  When she finished, everyone was quiet. They looked to Master Zar. Little Gregory licked the plate's bottom clean. For a long moment, the Master said nothing.

  "So." He nodded finally. "You were supposed to relay Master Khondus's plan to Captain Terreden. At Khondus's signal, Sara was supposed to lock up the House Tevéss riders and dragons. At that same signal, Khondus would make his move in the High Keep with Captain Fyr and the High Lady's Guard. They'd kill Lord Gideon, destroy the Tevéss force there, make safe Lady Abigail, ensure our control of the High Gate, and send word to King Bellános on Kon. That about right?"

  "Yes, sir," Anna said.

  "But Terreden and the majority of our dragons are gone on some bogus training maneuver, our remaining riders have been murdered, we don't know the status of our other dragons, but Voidbane seems all right. Eh?"

  Anna nodded.

  "Then we're at war," Master Zar said.

  The entire company stirred, but nobody said a word. Their eyes didn't leave the Master's face.

  Anna made to speak, but Zar stopped her with a raised hand. "First." Master Zar cocked his head at Moondagger. "We need to get this dragon and his rider into harness. They might be our only chance to get word to our allies outside the High Keep. Most certainly, they'll be the best and fastest way we can find out what's going on in the citadel. Second, we need to secure the armory and smithy—."

  "Lord Gideon has two squads outside your door—," Anna began.

  "Keep quiet," Master Zar said. He stroked little Gregory's blue spine. "You'll get your orders in a moment."

  Anna bowed.

  "After the smithy is secured," Master Zar continued, "we'll move forward with Master Khondus's plan. We'll make for the High Gate and send word to Bellános. Tevéss's ambush is well-laid. But Lord Gideon can't replace our adepts at the Gate until the last possible moment. Any earlier, the whole Keep would know what was happening. Once our message is through, we'll connect up with Master Khondus and see how we can best serve his plan. We act fast enough, we might be able to get ahead of this thing. Have a nice welcoming party for the great Lord Oskor when he arrives."

  Master Zar's men nodded. Their eyes were dark.

  "What about the Tevéss troops in the upper barracks, Zar?" a deep-voiced armorer behind Anna asked. "And what of their dragons?"

  She turned and saw that it was Master Jason, one of Father's oldest friends. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and missing two fingers from his left hand. Battle-hardened. A nasty scar, starting beneath his jaw, ran from chin to ear then disappeared around the back of his skull. He wore his steel-grey hair in a short soldier's crop.

  Master Zar nodded. "Miss Dyer says the Tevéss riders wait for their own signal. We'll have to deal with their dragons, of course. But with surprise, and man to man, the advantage should still be ours. Time to out-fox the foxes."

  "And if they've been quietly murdering us all morning?" Master Jason raised an eyebrow.

  Master Zar looked at his men for a moment. His eyes were fierce. "Then we'll have some catching up to do."

  As one, every man in the room crossed his chest with his fist and said calmly: "Dradón!"

  Master Zar returned their salute and nodded. "Time to work."

  29

  "WE'LL GET DAGGER set up," Master Zar told her, rubbing the white Dallanar tattoo on his forehead. "Then we'll look to your gear."

  Anna nodded. The armory bustled with activity, everyone moving at once, capable and proficient. Little Gregory was curled over the Master's shoulder. His milky eyes were shut, his faded blue tail wrapped around the Anorian's thick neck, his little blue gut pleasantly distended. Every so often, he'd give a little burp.

  "Weights and measures," Master Jason ordered from the far side of the armory.

  "Weights and measures!" his men replied.

  Iron clicked on iron as the teams readied their stations and stepped to their equipment.

  "Jason and his lads," Master Zar continued, "will rig out Dagger on the scout deck, get you weighed and fitted. All you need to do now is make sure Moondagger stays calm. Can't have him injuring the fitting teams. Don't know how he'll respond to—."

  "He won't spook." Anna lifted her chin and looked Master Zar in the eye.

  Behind Anna, Moondagger stared at the Master. His white scales glowed in the morning sun. Little Gregory looked up, hiccupped, then settled back into his nap.

  "Fine." Zar nodded. "But you'll need to be sure to keep him—."

  "He won't spook," Anna interrupted him again. A few of the apprentices looked from her to the Master. "You have my word, sir. He won't spook. I know it."

  "Look here, girl." Master Zar pulled her aside gently, speaking so that only Anna could hear. The Anorian was slightly shorter than Anna but seemed to take up three times the space. "There's no time for that. You've done a good job so far, and he could be a fine mount. But you don't 'know' anything about him. That's a fact. You don't know his strength, his endurance, or his speed. You don't know how he'll react to harness, you don't know how he's maneuvering without vision, and you don't know how he'll respond to real combat. You know that he's strong, that he's completely untrained, and that he's blind. Oh, and you know that he's got a healthy taste for blood. I appreciate your confidence. But for now, you need to cease the backtalk and exemplify some soldierly discipline. This isn't about what you know, what you don't know, or what you think you know. You're a soldier, we're at war, and I'm giving you an order. You can't obey, then you'll be relieved. These men are gonna be neck deep in blood today, some of the young ones for the first time. They're not warriors or riders like you, squire. They're technicians. And they need to see that our soldiers understand their roles and that they obey their orders. Clear?"

  "Yes, sir," Anna said, her face going warm. She snapped her heels together and crossed her chest with her fist. "Thank you, sir. Apologies, sir."

  "Good squire," Master Zar said mildly. He looked over her shoulder. "You there! Take a look outside and check the enemy's position. They react to our noise, we're gonna take 'em out." Then he turned and walked away. As he left, Gregory managed to raise his little blue head long enough to give a final burp.

  30

  "BRING HIM OVER, Anna," Master Jason said from the scout deck, waving her over to the small dais on the far side of the armory. The dais was made of Anorian oak, but even so, it was deeply scarred by the telltale marks of dragon claws.

  Anna walked to the deck and ordered Dagger onto the dais, positioning him at its exact center. Dagger obeyed her command
s perfectly, grunting and tasting the air with his broad tongue. His huge white eyes never left Anna's face.

  "Weight carriages," Master Jason ordered.

  "Weight carriages, sir!" the armorers responded. They rolled the two iron carriages into position on either side of the dais and locked the carriages' feet onto a series of well-worn pegs at the deck's side. When positioned like this, the carriages were set directly on either side of Moondagger. Each carriage had a slot in its frame that would accommodate a dragon's wing. Once the dragon's wing was in the slot, the scaffolds' load arms—iron bars padded with sheaths of leather and sheep's wool—would be set on top of it. The load arms were cabled and geared to a stack of iron weights at the rear of each carriage. The purpose of the carriages was to assess the strength of a dragon's wings and shoulders and to help determine a dragon's potential weight load.

  "How's he doing there, Anna?" Master Jason asked quietly. Then, louder: "Carriages secured and locked."

  "Carriages secure and locked, sir!"

  Dagger stared at Anna, tense but calm, pinkish nostrils flaring at the new noises, but otherwise perfectly still. Anna realized that Dagger wasn't acting this way out of nervousness; it was as if he knew exactly what was expected of him.

  "Solid, sir," Anna answered.

  "Very good." Master Jason nodded. Then, in a much softer voice, he added, "We're going to need him back on his haunches so that we can get his wings into position. I know you've seen this a hundred times, but this'll be your first time fitting your own mount, and he's untrained. I also don't understand what's going on with his eyes. If we can't get him fitted, if he balks at the weights, or the harness, or the noise, I won't risk my crews, understand? We'll pull him out and that'll be that. If I see even a hint of fire, Great Sisters forbid, we'll douse him immediately, and he won't like it." He lifted his eyebrows to the snarl of water pipes and spigots hanging from the vaulted ceiling above the scout deck.