House of Dragons

by Jessica Cluess

  Well. Dog was…

  Weaknesses: Dog.

  A shadow swept over Vespir and Emilia, and a growl reverberated through the air. Instinctively, Vespir ducked her head as Aufidius passed. Hyperia had been bringing up the rear for a while, to rest her dragon. Wise. Now she was shifting into the lead, presumably to get away from the shouting and Dog’s weaving and bobbing.

  Hydra: the supreme dragon breed. The keenest natural intelligence. The longest claws. The hottest flame. The Great Dragon Himself had been Hydra.

  Weaknesses?

  Aufidius was a god among beasts.

  Weaknesses: none.

  Well. Except maybe temper. As Dog ballooned his wings and soared upward to join Aufidius, Vespir craned her neck to watch the poor, dumb dragon nuzzle at the Hydra’s snout. Snout nuzzling was an invitation to play, and now not even Ajax’s yanking on the reins could get the Wyvern to stop.

  Vespir heaved a sigh. Ajax was one of many, many brothers. Dog had probably come from a crowded aerie, with all sorts of siblings to play with.

  It wouldn’t occur to the dragon that anyone wouldn’t want to be his friend.

  Aufidius lashed out and snapped in Dog’s face. The Wyvern escaped having his nose ripped off by dropping swiftly, nearly collapsing onto Emilia and Chara. After a near-midair collision, the dragons wobbled back into formation. Aufidius pulled ahead, letting out a roar so massive Vespir’s vision trembled with its power.

  “Keep your dragon under control.” Hyperia did not need to turn around for her voice to carry.

  The other four kept away from her and the Hydra’s lashing tail.

  Aufidius was the most furious creature Vespir had ever seen. She began to shiver.

  “Listen.” She called to the others when they were half a league behind Hyperia. “That dragon hasn’t been properly trained. I’ll bet they kept him muzzled for close to a year.”

  “What do you mean?” Emilia asked. Her red hair whipped about behind her like a stream of fire.

  “When they’re still hatchlings, dragons need to be weaned off biting. Sometimes, handlers put muzzles on them to make the point. You have to do it before they get too big, or you can’t control them.” Amazing, that these dragon riders did not know how their own creatures had been trained and reared. “But you have to switch between using the muzzle and connecting with the dragon. You feed them by hand, play with them, and make them trust you. Then they don’t want to bite. But it seems the Volscia handlers just kept Aufidius muzzled. They made him angry so that he couldn’t connect with anyone.”

  “So they didn’t know what they were doing?” Lucian sounded baffled.

  “No.” Vespir watched Aufidius’s retreating form, feeling sick to her stomach. “They knew exactly. They wanted to keep him wild, so that only Hyperia could control him. The more feral a dragon is, the stronger it becomes. They tortured him from the time he hatched.”

  Monsters. Aufidius was a beauty, and they’d ruined him.

  After that, they flew in silence for an hour or two, and Vespir closed her eyes to “lock in” with Karina once more. That flash of the Red, and then it was as if her breathing itself had synced with her dragon’s.

  When they reached the peninsula, everyone would spread apart on instinct. They’d be coming to the capital soon, and the dragons would want to be ready. Vespir had written off Chara and Dog. They didn’t have the proper handling to make full use of their strengths. Tyche would pull ahead to begin with, then tire. What Vespir wanted was to fly underneath Tyche and Aufidius, to wait for their final descent. Because to brake the speed and redirect themselves, they’d have to pull up and bank, flap their wings, and then…

  Then they’d provide a gust of wind that would propel Karina forward. The smallest, lightest, and sleekest dragon, if Karina could keep hurtling ahead of the others, she could win. They’d lose all control in the descent—they’d be no better than an arrow released from the shaft, so they’d need careful aim. But it was their only chance to beat the larger dragons.

  All Vespir had to do now was remain calm and wait.

  As the sun rose higher into the sky, the thin green line of the peninsula came into view. Everyone’s shoulders hunched forward on instinct, and every dragon’s tail began to lash in anticipation.

  Except Dog, who had been cowed by Aufidius’s harsh reaction and desperately yearned to make a friend.

  “Stop. Stop!” Ajax yelped as his dragon shook its head free of his rider’s lead and urged toward the Hydra’s tail. Vespir inhaled deeply and tugged on Karina’s own bridle. Ugh, she hated that those priests had forced a saddle and halter onto her baby, one with green silk tassels at the snout and green embroidery upon the leather.

  But the harness was the least of her problems right now. She, Lucian, and Emilia all cried out in horror as Dog flapped harder, trying to overtake Aufidius. Whimpering, the dragon tried to bounce his snout against the Hydra’s.

  Friend? Friend? The poor creature’s need couldn’t have been more obvious.

  “You fool. Get away!” Hyperia shouted as Aufidius lashed out once more. This time, smoke curled from his nostrils. Vespir’s heart beat faster.

  No. No, no, not here. If that dragon breathes fire…

  They were too ill matched for dracomachia.

  Dog would be killed in the battle.

  “Ajax!” Vespir stood in the stirrups and tried to get alongside the boy. He fiendishly yanked at his reins, but Dog would not be turned. “Guide him down!”

  “I can’t!” The Tiber boy’s voice tightened with fear. “He won’t listen!”

  “I’ll try to pull away,” Hyperia snarled, doing her best to guide her own dragon’s head to the right. She was no fool; she knew the dangers of dracomachia this high up. “By the blue above, keep that idiot creature off my tail!”

  Vespir looked over her shoulder to find that Emilia had pulled well away. She was a full fifty yards or so behind now.

  Smart girl. She’d already won a challenge. Better to place last here than get in a fight.

  Dog gave a long, yowling cry as Aufidius swooped farther away.

  Lucian and Tyche flew up beside Vespir. The Sabel boy cursed as Dog and Ajax sped for Aufidius.

  “Damn it,” Lucian muttered. “What do we do now?”

  Vespir’s throat was dry.

  “Nothing,” she whispered. “It’s too late.”

  Ajax screamed, sat hard in his stirrups, and pulled up Dog’s head.

  “Don’t make him angry, you idiot!” He dug his heels into the dragon’s side, and Dog yelped. Ajax didn’t want to ever hurt this fool but better Dog get kicked in the ribs than die. “Back away. Go down!”

  Aufidius wheeled about, and Ajax could feel himself trapped in the creature’s obsidian gaze. Oh, shit. The golden dragon opened its jaws—and roared. The full-blooded roar of a bull Hydra was said to have the power of five adult lions. Now practically deaf, Ajax urged Dog to circle away from the massive beast. Vespir wheeled overhead, safely out of the way as smoke spiraled from Aufidius’s nostrils and heat rippled from his mouth. Despite Hyperia’s shouts, it was too late.

  Time slowed as Ajax tried to scream. All he could manage was to whisper Dog’s name.

  Aufidius flared his wings, stopped midair, and spewed fire.

  Ajax huddled himself behind Dog’s body, trying to pull his knees in as close to his chest as possible. Dog puffed out his chest, taking the brunt of the flames as they licked harmlessly off his scales. Ajax’s eyes watered, and he choked on the sulfuric stink. The attack seemed to stretch on for hours, though it couldn’t have been longer than a few seconds. His legs trembled to hang on as he looked down into the seemingly endless fall to the ocean below. One slip was all it would take to hurtle him into a blue oblivion. When the flames died, Ajax began to shudder violently.

  “Go. We
have to go,” he wheezed. But Dog was no longer listening.

  Ajax could feel the fury vibrating through his dragon. Aufidius had nearly hurt Ajax, and that couldn’t be allowed. Not for a loyal creature like Dog.

  There were no friendly gawps now. Dog roared in reply, only half as loud as Aufidius but impressive nonetheless. Ajax’s entire head shook with the deafening sound, and he clutched the saddle horn to let his dragon take him for a ride. From around Dog’s shoulder, past the flaring wings, Ajax got brief flashes of their competition. Aufidius flapped to remain in midair, then struck out with his legs. The talons that tipped his toes extended, obsidian and fiendishly curved. Oh no.

  “Pull back!” Ajax shouted as Dog yelped; one of the Hydra’s talons had sliced him across the haunch. This was bad. Even as Ajax yelled and pulled at the reins, yanking so hard he nearly slid out of his stirrups, Dog breathed fire in response. Ajax watched as the flames licked harmlessly across Aufidius’s broad chest. Ajax saw Hyperia duck, same way he had, plastering herself to the dragon’s back in order to avoid being hit. The two dragons circled, kicking out at each other with claws, breathing fire when they missed. Ajax kept tugging, and his efforts finally paid off. Dog managed to put enough distance between himself and Aufidius to avoid being struck by the flames. Aufidius unleashed another fiery attack, which didn’t touch them. Ajax coughed; the smoke was still terrible, of course. His face was slick with sweat, and his forehead scalding to the touch. Much more of that and his flesh would’ve started to blister.

  “Ajax!” He heard Hyperia’s voice. “Try taking him lower. Signal defeat!”

  Right. Right, the code of dragon honor, or whatever it was that these beasts naturally did during battle. The dragon who went down on the wind would be spared; he’d never be alpha, but at least he wouldn’t die. For most dragons, pride wouldn’t allow that kind of surrender. Better to be dead than lesser.

  But Dog wasn’t like most dragons. To him, being loved mattered more. Damn moron.

  Eh, but Ajax could be alpha enough for the both of them.

  “Come on,” he snarled, digging his heels so deep into Dog’s sides that Ajax knew it had to hurt. He’d apologize later with a jaw rub and half a rabbit. Later, when they weren’t dead.

  Mercifully, Dog listened. Whimpering, the dragon bobbed lower on the wind, signaling his defeat. Ajax peered up at the hovering Hydra, its tail lashing like a golden whip through the air. Just leave us alone. If Dog accepted defeat, then Aufidius might listen to Hyperia and fly away.

  Instead, the Hydra roared once again and lunged. The monster flew down toward them like an arrow aimed with deadly accuracy, its jaws open, flame kindling in its mouth. Ajax couldn’t think; he couldn’t try to guide Dog away or anything at all smart. He could only sit there in wonder and horror as his death came hurtling at him out of the sky.

  At least his death would be huge and gold and awe-inspiring.

  Move, you idiot! Move!

  But Ajax couldn’t…he couldn’t…

  Boom.

  Tyche sped up out of nowhere, her passage knocking Ajax and Dog aside in a sheer gust of wind. The Drake was a black-and-cobalt blur against the sky. As Ajax watched and Dog keened, she struck Aufidius’s neck with her snout, knocking the charging beast off his course. The Hydra snarled at the Drake as she pushed off with her legs to fly before him in challenge. Lucian sat forward in his saddle.

  Right. How fitting. Ajax’s dragon was the runt again. Dog had previously been the runt of the Tiber family aerie, so Ajax was familiar with the position.

  Most dragons—Tyche included—would step in to protect the runt. Even though Dog was larger than Tyche, or Karina for that matter, the pod of dragons had adopted him as their smallest, weakest member. And unlike humans, who saw smallness and weakness as an opening for brutality, the dragons would defend their runt.

  Shit. Now Lucian and Tyche were going to get into it with Aufidius, and if the Hydra was still keen on blood, they were going to end up with a ton of it and—

  Out of nowhere, Aufidius banked on the air and turned himself around. With a gigantic roar, the dragon started winging hard to the peninsula. Ajax gave a shriek of relief, his heart a painful hammer in his chest. Shaking—he might’ve wet himself, though he hoped to the depths he hadn’t—Ajax flew over to Tyche and Lucian.

  “Thanks,” Ajax gasped, his voice trembling. “Wh-why’d he do that?”

  “They’re trying to win the race.” Lucian sounded amazed, pointing toward the thin line of land in the distance.

  “Against who? You’re here. Emilia’s here. Vespir’s—”

  Ajax halted, scanned the sky. No, the servant girl was definitely not here. She must’ve taken off during his battle with Aufidius. Smart girl. She had the smallest dragon, after all, and there wouldn’t be many opportunities to distance herself from the rest of them.

  But the way Aufidius was wound up right now…

  Oh. Oh no.

  “He’s gonna kill her,” Ajax rasped.

  At least Aufidius had turned away from Ajax and that damned nuisance of a beast. Hyperia did not want to spill blood. She would be penalized and she could not accept that, not now. Not after all she’d accomplished. Instead, she leaned into the wind, narrowing her eyes as she gazed over Aufidius’s golden shoulder. The little dot of Vespir and Karina grew in size as they came into sight of the mainland.

  “You didn’t have to attack the boy like that,” she whispered, almost certain Aufidius couldn’t hear her through the rush of the wind. “I ordered you to move on. There is no honor in attacking a defeated creature.”

  Beneath her, Aufidius growled. He shook her to her bones, and she clung to his saddle, half-certain he’d chuck her into the ocean if she disrespected him again.

  What a monster. How proud she was to ride such a beast.

  If that servant had any common sense, she’d let the Hydra pass without incident. Hyperia had a grudging respect for Vespir’s attempt at taking the lead. She’d been clever enough to understand that she could accomplish nothing at the dracomachia. She’d tried to win this Race, Hyperia would give her that. The servant girl had tried her best.

  But Vespir’s best would never be Hyperia’s.

  As Aufidius came up on Karina’s tail, Hyperia felt his sides growing hotter beneath her legs. Her pulse stalled. No. No, he didn’t need to fire upon them.

  “Aufidius. Stop!” she cried.

  But of course, her dragon would not be ruled.

  Hyperia cried out as Vespir glanced over her shoulder at the coming onslaught. Vespir’s eyes widened, the wind ruffling her black hair. The servant shouted something at her own mount, and Karina dove out of the way as Aufidius unleashed a fireball. It did not strike the girl, and Hyperia closed her eyes in relief as they surpassed Vespir, taking the lead.

  Hyperia would win now, and Vespir would take second place. That was admirable, after all. Not a win, not worthy of a crown, but enough that Vespir would meet her death with pride.

  A noble death was all that people like Vespir could hope for, and, Hyperia thought as Aufidius winged his way toward Dragonspire and victory, it was something that she would happily grant the servant girl when the time came.

  Vespir coughed, eyes stinging as Aufidius passed them with ease. Karina hovered on the wind as Vespir struggled to catch her breath. Behind her, the other three were dots on the horizon. She would not be last in this challenge, but…

  Karina would die if she did not win this Race.

  How? How do we win?

  Her heart sank as the voice of Plotus, the old Pentri handler who’d trained her, replied, You can’t. Your dragon can’t overtake that Hydra. She’s not built for it.

  Vespir’s hands trembled. Her original plan might have worked if it weren’t for poor, sweet, stupid Dog. Now Vespir couldn’t nestle between Tyche and Aufidius in the hope of sli
ngshotting ahead. The only way to benefit from the Hydra’s great surge of wings would be if…

  Her head whipped up. This would require the most idiotic move possible.

  Karina chirped, as if to ask what Vespir was thinking.

  That chirp was all she needed. My dragon is going to live.

  “Steady, girl.” Vespir unfastened Karina’s harness and bridle with cool hands, and let the damned bit of leather fall to the earth.

  Getting the saddle off would be a greater challenge; to accommodate a dragon’s wings, the saddle buckled along the belly in an X formation. Vespir had to scoot back, knees balanced on Karina’s hindquarters, while she reached down and fumbled for the clasp. Vespir’s thighs began to shiver with strain, but finally she felt the saddle give. When it slid off and away, Vespir settled onto her dragon’s back with a sigh.

  This would require balance. Karina wasn’t Vespir’s pet to ride. She was her partner. The better half of her heart. Vespir closed her eyes once more, and the Red was instantaneous. They were one person. One soul.

  “Okay, girl.” Vespir pressed herself fully against Karina, sliding her arms around the dragon’s neck, slipping her heels down to hook under the dragon’s hindquarters. “Let’s go.”

  They stayed well behind Aufidius for much of the next few miles. When the river they’d been tracking began to widen and the horizon shone with gold, it was time to move. Ahead of them, in the distance, Vespir caught sight of a great black banner that spanned the length of several city streets. Enormous golden pillars upheld that banner, marking the finish line.

  Dragonspire was near.

  Vespir would appreciate the grandeur of the capital once she had survived these next few minutes. Burying her head against Karina’s shoulder, she pictured what she wanted to happen.

  The dragon instantly obeyed.

  Karina put on a burst of speed, just enough to get out ahead of the Hydra. The wind screamed in Vespir’s ears, and tears bled from her eyes. She had never gone this fast before, and adrenaline spiked through her. They were doing well, but Karina couldn’t keep up that pace forever. They didn’t have to, though. They just had to match…