Return to Dragon Planet: Book one of the Dragon Planet Trilogy

by S A Robertson

  Standing on the edge of a grassy drop, perched on the spine of the Sheerwater Cliffs, Gemini took in the panoramic view of the surrounding area, from the silvery Shilita below, to the forested crater before her. Up here, the thick fog of the morning had been spirited away, while great plumes of rising mist boiled away through the forest canopy as if the trees were on fire. It looked to her more like a jungle than a temperate forest. Which was why, as she turned back the way she had come, and to the vastness of the Great Eastern Forest beyond, the towering columns of cloud that were gathering out to the north seemed so in keeping.

  A storm was brewing. A big one too. She could already see lightning dancing from the underbelly of one of the thunderheads. What’s more, it was heading directly toward her, and at this rate it would overtake her before she reached the pass.

  Was this an advantage or disadvantage, though?

  Perhaps a little of both. Gemini knew that dragons rarely flew during storms, more likely confining themselves to their lairs until it blew over. This might cause problems for any hunting party, who would most likely want to draw the creature out into the open rather than venture into the lair—a much riskier enterprise. However, if the storm was bad—and it looked like it was shaping up to be—that might slow her own progress. She might not reach the party before the hunt commenced. She might be too late.

  Then what are you standing around gawking for, Gem?

  A peel of thunder shuddered in the distance and this prompted her to get going again. Soon she was moving down the slope and into the Gimrill Basin below, a thin, ghostly mist creeping up to meet her as she descended.

  5

  The Ariad Pass emerged out of the fog like a ship floating out of twilight: a triangular, ragged, tree-topped scar in the earth beyond the edge of the forest. This was the gateway to the Lekeyer Mountains; the most direct route, anyway, as it cut through the high, forested embankments beyond the Basin.

  “Why is it so quiet around here?” Uldo complained, although his voice was little more than a murmur.

  “Why do you think?” Blake looked up fruitlessly, unable to see the elevated tops of the cliffs on either side of the pass. “Nothing wants to live this close to a dragon.”

  “And that odour,” Nyara said, “do you smell it?”

  Blake sniffed the air. Not that he had to have the elf’s superior senses to detect the faint sulphurous stench. “Dragon breath,” he answered.

  “All the way out here?” said Maddox. “We’re still ten klicks from the lair, aren’t we?”

  “More like eight. Maybe less. So, we need to think about making camp. Perhaps up there, under that shelf of rock. It’s away from the entrance to the pass.”

  Nyara, who had been designated to stay behind, drew her lips together. “It’s as good a place as any I suppose.”

  Blake nodded. “Yeah. Facing the forest.”

  “Except you just said nothing lives so close to a dragon,” Uldo pointed out. “Why do we need to be so cautious?”

  “Old habit. Come on. Let’s get on with it.”

  They climbed to the shelf and began to unburden their damp packs, lightening the load to make ready for the hunt. The campsite was well chosen, screened as it was by a large, feathery spinnaker bush. Nyara sat down on a rock, propping her crossbow against her leg, and stared back the way they had come.

  “There’s not even a breeze,” she said, softly.

  “That doesn’t mean you can build a fire, remember,” Blake said and pulled his net launcher from his pack. He handed it to Cid.

  “Of course not,” Nyara replied crisply.

  “Good. Now, there’s about four or five hours of daylight left I reckon. It should take us two to reach the lair, all being well. If things go our way, we’ll be back after sundown, rest up for a short while, then return to the RV. Obviously, if we’re not here by midnight, I want you to leave as soon as possible and make your way to the ship. Whether you’re staying or going, Skreet deserves to know we’re not returning. And you won’t be able to hail him on the comms either, unless he’s fixed that shield. Don’t come looking for us.”

  “But…”

  “They’ll be nothing to be gained in trying to find us. Even if one of us is injured but unable to make the trip to the camp, we won’t make it to the ship now, will we?” Blake then pulled out a small tripod, checking it over briefly.

  “What’s that?” Maddox asked.

  It was Cid who replied: “Ultrasonic pulse beacon.”

  “We call them squeakers,” said Uldo.

  “It’s pitched at 200 kilohertz,” said Blake. “Dragons have very sensitive hearing. They were designed to lure griffins from their nests, but this should help tempt the dragon out of its lair. If we need to.” He put it back in his pack, straightened and picked up his Jag rifle. “Everyone ready?”

  “Absolutely!” Uldo said. “Let’s kill ourselves a dragon!”

  “Then follow me.” Blake started down to the ledge of the shelf, but Nyara stopped him, putting her hand on his arm.

  “May the World Tree protect you, Mr McCord,” she said, and glanced to the others. “All of you.”

  Blake looked down at Nyara’s hand, only to shrug it off. “I think we’re the least of the World Tree’s problems, don’t you?” he replied as he headed out into the fog. “See you when we get back.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  1

  It was like walking through an old dream. Or perhaps a half-forgotten nightmare as Blake traipsed silently through a grey, featureless landscape, the smell of sulphur becoming stronger with every step he took. His last dragon hunt had brought him to a similar place such as this: an enclosed, lifeless landscape, more like an asteroid, where the noxious vapours had stripped away much of the plant life; so acidic that it clawed at the back of the throat, infecting the lungs. He supposed, if he had gone on hunting dragons long enough, it wouldn’t necessarily have been the fiery breath or monstrous jaws that would have killed him. Rather, simply wandering through their territory, the fumes would have been strong enough to finally burn his insides out. Such was the horror of the beasts. They were power and they were poison all at once.

  Not that this had stopped him in his early days of hunting. Back then he had been reckless, driven by mad fury. Truth was, he hardly remembered being scared, even as he came close to death countless times. But later, when his body weakened and the memory of Kaylen began to fade, despite his desperation to cling onto every detail, so the realisation of what he confronted began to creep into his heart. In the end, fear saved his life. And while he had maintained as much bluster as he could, when finally he had agreed to Nyara’s mission, that same morbid dread began to settle over him again. A necessary terror that could keep a man alive in the face of such terror.

  He knew the others felt it too. He didn’t even have to look at them. Perhaps only Cid was immune to the onset of panic. At least he presumed as such. For while the golem hadn’t the flesh to burn or blood to boil, the kernel of his being was still a living intelligence which was capable of being snuffed out.

  Blake came to a halt.

  For the last hour or so, the party had picked its way in silence through the Ariad Pass, and now the faint sound of running water could be heard again. They were approaching the Black River—a tributary of the Shilita that had, over millennia, carved its way to form the Black River Canyon. With the fog, they could not see it ahead until they started up again and pushed their way through the thick waist-high blackened scrub grass that was dying along its banks.

  The river was flowing lazily through the gloom a few feet below, sealed in by the high, striated walls of the canyon. Smooth, dark rocks cluttered the shore. The fog was finally lifting too, perhaps because of a stiffening breeze that had lately stirred through the canyon. It was oddly warm.

  “Which way?” Maddox asked. He spoke with the kind of veneration reserved for a church.

  Blake looked east, against the current and down a wider stretch of the cany
on. There was hardly a sound, save for the chattering of the water. Then he looked west, where the canyon walls began to narrow. The warm breeze kissed his face. He wrinkled his nose. There was no contest.

  Blake nodded westward.

  2

  They turned toward the last stretch of river that would take them to the Undul Canyon. By now, even those amongst them who were least sensitive to the smells in the air could not help but be aware of the acrid reek. And whatever relief they had enjoyed from the cool, damp air was soon replaced by a far more malignant, swirling yellowish haze. Uldo took to holding the back of his hand to his nose. Blake was aware of his eyes stinging. He held up a hand to call a halt and the party, relieved, fell in behind him.

  Wordlessly, Blake put a finger to his lips and unshouldered his pack. He pulled out his goggles and filter mask, fixing it across his nose and mouth, and pressing a PTT comm link into one of his ears. Following his lead, Maddox did the same. Uldo, who didn’t need any eye protection, placed his pack on a boulder close to the water’s edge. He was about to fill his canteen when Blake hurriedly stepped forward and clasped hold of the dwarf’s wrist.

  The dwarf quickly jerked his arm away, only to see Blake pointing down the river. Frowning, Uldo turned and looked through the thinning fog to see the fingers of a ribcage sticking out of the water. Something had either died in the river or been dropped, like an offering. Or maybe a warning. Needless to say, Uldo screwed back the cap on his canteen and stepped away from the water’s edge. Which was when they heard the rumble.

  At first Blake was as convinced as everyone else that they were closer to the lair than he thought. He swung his rifle around, suddenly tense, only to realise the sound wasn’t coming from ahead, it was echoing behind. Blake turned and there was another rich, rolling peel that reverberated through the canyon walls.

  Blake stared into the sky. Thunder.

  A storm? Blake clenched his jaw. That had happened upon them quickly. And now he knew that Nyara’s blessing had not been heard by the World Tree after all. For if he feared the fog might have been a disadvantage, then rain and lightning were even worse. The breeze was turning now, ruffling his hair. To the north, the air was already darkening.

  He looked back to the others. They appeared to guess that the change in the weather was unusual too. Uldo’s brows beetled together. Maddox’s eyes were shining.

  Now what? Thought Blake. They couldn’t go back or dig in. At least, not for any length of time. They only had a few hours.

  Damn it! Of all the hindrances he had anticipated, a storm wasn’t one of them. Rain, when it came, would make visibility poor, and could also upset the dragon’s hearing. If Rygorath was in its lair, it might not even hear the beacon and would not be drawn out. That’s if it would come out at all. Dragons did not fly in storms. A lightning strike was about the only thing that could penetrate the membranes of its wings and bring it down. Maybe, with a direct strike to the head, even kill it.

  The others watched Blake expectantly. He was wavering, but there was only one decision to make.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  1

  Moving with speed through the Gimrill Basin was not easy for Gemini. The air was cloyingly warm compared to the high reaches of the Sheerwater Cliffs; almost suffocating now that it had begun to rain heavily. The deluge also made the forest dark, and the ground beneath her feet greasy and waterlogged, filling dips and hollows with rainwater so that every misstep might result in a broken bone. Not that she paused. Gemini sensed she was now not far behind the hunting party, and she negotiated the forest as quickly as she could, barely looking at the ground any longer. There was little point. Most of the hunting party’s tracks had probably been washed away by the deluge and she had a clear direction anyway. There was only one way the hunting party was heading and that was to the Ariad Pass, which would take the hunting party into the Blackwater Canyons. That was undoubtedly the location of the lair. The only question was: were they there already? Was she too late?

  Another flicker of blue-white lightning lit up the trees around Gemini, followed by a deafening crack of thunder.

  For the last two hours or so the storm hadn’t moved at all. It just sat there, over the forest, without dissipating. And together with the humid air, and the lack of breeze, Gemini was increasingly beginning to feel that there was nothing natural about this storm.

  A crazy idea, right? Until Gemini found herself touching one of the trees closest to her, and immediately retracted her hand in alarm. The bark was unnaturally warm and sticky, with globules of sap oozing from crevices in the wood, as if it were bleeding. In fact, it was happening all around her, with most every tree beholden to the same uncanny phenomenon, shedding waves of subtle heat like gigantic bulbs. What was happening here? Was there a sickness in the trees? Were they dying?

  It didn’t make sense. And was a disquieting feeling as she hurried on with even greater urgency. For all her years in the Ranger Patrol, and her commitment to help preserve planets like Terevell, never had she felt so at odds with her surroundings. She was glad, therefore, when she gradually began to detect the terrain ahead of her was incrementally climbing, a suggestion that she was finally about to leave the confines of the forest. Soon the trees would begin to thin, and the briarwoods would be replaced by more slender birches. She would be free of the forest and that sickening warmth. Except, just as that sense of relief took hold, she came to a halt and grabbed clumsily for her pulse rifle, swinging it off her shoulder. Quickly ducking behind a nearby tree, heart galloping, Gemini cursed her imprudence. She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts, and with the rain still an incessant distraction, she hadn’t been paying enough attention to what lay ahead of her, and only saw the camp when it was lit up by a flash of bright blue lightning through the trees.

  Pawing away a slick of rain from her face, Gemini lifted her pulse rifle to her cheek and used the scope to magnify the area. Yeah. While some effort had been made to hide the camp with the bush, it was otherwise relatively exposed. This was encouraging. It meant that whoever had constructed it had done so without the fear of pursuit. In other words, they still didn’t know Gemini was behind them and had probably shielded the main area more for predators. The only problem was, there was nobody there. The camp was empty.

  Gemini dropped her rifle as more lightning flashed above her, followed by a deep, shuddering boom of thunder. Was it possible the hunting party had constructed the camp and simply left to return there after the kill?

  That seemed unlikely. Why go to all the trouble of making a base only to abandon it? What purpose did that serve? Which suggested to Gemini an alternative reason: that some, or even all of the party were still in the area, waiting out the storm. Perhaps. Gemini hadn’t detected a lot of paraphernalia on the site. Not enough to give her the impression that the majority of the hunting party had been using the camp recently. And if they had, where were they now?

  The answer came when Gemini turned back around the tree to level her rifle again. She wanted to wait for another flash of lightning to make a better assessment. Yet even as she did so, chewing the inside of her mouth, she noticed too late a shadow slip out of the rain to her right and before she could turn her rifle around, a razor-edged flash of metal stopped just short of her throat.

  “Drop it,” said a smooth, cool voice. “Or I’ll relieve your head from your shoulders.”

  2

  Gemini stumbled back against the wall of rock and glared at the elf as she tossed the pulse rifle aside and dropped her blade. The rain was still hammering down, but after leading her captive to the relative shelter of the bluff, Nyara was able to pull her grey hood down, revealing her fierce, angular face.

  “You’re a ranger,” Nyara said. “A stealthy one, too.”

  “Not stealthy enough,” Gemini replied, rubbing her elbow. “How far out did you see me coming?”

  “Not as far as I would’ve liked. The rain was a hindrance.” Nyara turned her eyes back into the forest. “W
hat surprises me is that you’re alone.”

  “And how do you know that? Was it the dark elf? You were in communication? Because if you’re expecting to meet up with him again, you’ll be disappointed. He’s dead.”

  Nyara’s expression was impatient as she turned her attention back to Gemini. “What dark elf? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Gemini’s brow furrowed. “So, he wasn’t one of yours?”

  “I know nothing about dark elves. Alive or dead. But what I do know is that you’re a Sweeper. Deep space insignia on your camo-vest. You people always travel alone. But if the object of this exercise is to stop a dragon hunt, you’re obviously outmatched. I would’ve expected a tactical unit at least. Not a single ranger with a pulse rifle.”

  “So…you had no idea I was tracking you?”

  “Of course not. You’re an unexpected gift.”

  “And you admit, it is the dragon,” Gemini said.

  “You think we’re out here in dragon territory for a stroll? The rest of the party will already be at the lair. There’s no chance to stop it.”

  “Don’t be so sure. In this rain, the dragon will probably have gone to ground. If it’s holed up, good luck trying to entice it out into the open. That’s even if it is in the lair.”

  Nyara’s brow tightened. Gemini smiled grimly. It was obviously something the elf hadn’t considered.

  “It’s Zerian,” Nyara said softly, slowly lifting her eyes to the heavens and the driving rain.

  “Zerian?”

  “The High King. He’s had his Tree Reader summon the storm. To hinder the hunt.”

  “His wizard did this?”

  Nyara lowered her eyes. “The World Tree did this. Which means Zerian knows we’re here.”