“I would hardly presume,” Niva said in a formal voice.
This made me shake my head in confusion. Why did this dragon regard Shardas with such reverence? “I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand what you’re talking about.” Something she had said a moment ago struck me. “Why is it that Shardas is the one who should have destroyed the slippers? Why not Theoradus? Or any of the rest of you?”
Niva snorted loudly, setting a small clump of wheat on fire. Luka was quick to stamp it out. “Because Shardas the Gold is our king,” the dragon said deliberately, watching me closely to gauge my reaction. “Velika Azure-Wing was his mate. As our king it was his duty to dispose of those awful slippers.”
The world began to spin around me. Shardas was the king of the dragons. I had been wearing shoes made from the skin of Shardas’s mate. I had lived with the king of the dragons, eaten peaches with him, ridden on his back, and waved those accursed slippers right under his nose!
I thought I might be sick again.
“Creel? What’s wrong?” Luka came over and touched my shoulder, concerned.
But I didn’t take my eyes off Niva. “We have to help him. We have to get him free of her,” I said vehemently.
“I haven’t seen him since he was first sent to destroy that palace,” she said. “But I will find him. Feniul and Amacarin can help me. Do you have one of these –” she gestured to her collar with a foreclaw – “for Shardas?”
I nodded and bowed my head. It would be even harder to collar Shardas now, knowing that he was a king.
“Creel made a very beautiful collar just for Shardas,” Luka said softly.
Niva lowered her head and looked at him. “Are you the younger prince?” she asked.
“Yes. Prince Luka of Feravel at your service … Madam.” He bowed to the dragon.
I squinted towards the King’s Seat. “Were we expecting another dragon?”
“No!” Luka turned and began to shout to the men. “Take cover, take cover!”
Niva swivelled her head around and looked up at the approaching dragon. “It’s Shardas.” Her voice was flat. “You can see the gold of his scales in the sun.”
“And someone’s riding on him,” I said, shading my eyes with one hand. Rage bubbled up in me. I knew precisely who it was. “May I?” I took hold of Niva’s collar and raised my foot, ready to climb up on to her back.
“Please,” she said, leaning down to make it easier for me. “Are we fleeing, or facing them?”
“Facing, I think.” I was now an expert at riding dragons and had myself comfortably seated between two neck ridges, with my skirts spread around me, before Luka or the duke even noticed what I was doing.
“Creel, come down from there! Take cover!” Luka was pointing at an overturned wagon, as though that would protect anyone from dragonfire. It wouldn’t even withstand regular fire, for Jylla’s sake!
“You take cover, I want to talk to Amalia,” I retorted.
“I’m coming with you!” He started to reach for the collar as well.
“My prince, it’s too dangerous! We cannot risk you!” The duke took hold of one of Luka’s arms, and Tobin took the other. “I’ll go instead,” the duke said as he reached for the collar.
Luka fumed for a second but then turned away, shaking off Tobin’s restraining hands. He slunk towards the cart with anger visible in every line of his tense shoulders and taut spine.
“It’s very rude to mount a dragon without permission,” Niva said in frosty tones, moving out of the duke’s reach. “You may ask Feniul or Amacarin, if you like.” And then she sprang into the air.
Hanging on for dear life, I looked back down to see the stunned duke running to Feniul and gesticulating. I couldn’t blame Niva for being curt with him, she had been through a great deal in the last few days, and disliked being treated as a mindless animal.
On the other hand, the duke was kind, and it was just that he was accustomed to having his way. And we humans had all been through a great deal, too.
There was no further time to think about it, though. Straight ahead of us, his scales gleaming golden in the summer sun, was Shardas. A rider in scarlet sat on his back, her hair streaming in the wind created by the dragon’s flight. Niva curved right, Shardas left, and they were gliding in circles, nose to tail. There was no sign of recognition, or even intelligence, in Shardas’s eyes.
“What are you doing with my dragons, you ugly country cow?” Amalia had to shout to be heard. “They all belong to me!”
“They aren’t your dragons, you spoiled brat,” I retorted.
“They are now.” She raised the hem of her scarlet skirt (the one that Marta and Alle had worked on, with the scarlet ribbons I had found on my first day at Derda’s). The blue slippers almost glowed in the sun, a beautiful contrast to Shardas’s scales. A tide of rage washed over me, leaving me shaking.
She dug her heels into the sides of Shardas’s neck, as though he were a horse. “Shardas, burn them!”
“Shardas, I shall fight back if I must,” Niva warned.
“If you must,” Shardas said. His voice was thick and slow, not at all like the warm, rumbling tones I had grown to love.
“I did not give you permission to speak,” Amalia shrilled. Then she pointed a finger at Niva. “And I didn’t give you permission to leave! Shardas, I said to burn them!”
Niva’s wings snapped wide and she hurtled upward, with me clinging like a burr to her collar. Looking back, I saw a sluggish tongue of fire curl through the air where we had been. We could no longer hear Amalia, but she was waving her arms and clearly shrieking like a mad thing. Below them, approaching with great caution, was Feniul with the Duke of Mordrel on his back.
Another, more spirited burst of flame came from Shardas, narrowly missing Feniul, who swerved just in time. As it was, the tip of his wing had been singed. He spiralled slowly to the ground.
“What should we do?” My question was lost in the wind as Niva circled high above.
Shardas dove after Feniul, and a gout of flame tore across the ground, scattering the men, who appeared no bigger than ants, and causing the hay bales and wagons that had concealed them to explode.
Dragonfire is very potent, and very quick. In a matter of minutes, it seemed the entire field was ablaze. The men who had managed to escape were mounting their horses and galloping for their lives. Feniul and Amacarin had flown for the cover of the forest, and Shardas was now making slow circles over the destruction.
“Shardas!” Niva’s voice roared out, making my legs tremble where they clasped her neck. “Fight her! Fight the pull of the slippers! Think of Velika, think of this human! Fight it!”
Shardas turned and headed straight for us. I saw his mouth open wide, and forced myself not to put my arms in front of my face or close my eyes. “O Regunin, Caxon, Jylla,” I prayed, “protect us. Protect Shardas from the slippers. Please.”
Fire roared from Shardas’s mouth, blue and gold and scarlet flames. I could feel the heat even from a distance, and my sweat-slick hands nearly lost their grip on the collar as Niva dived to avoid the flames. I kept my eyes open, my gaze fixed on Shardas.
Then, at the very last second, Shardas raised his head. It wasn’t much, but it would have been enough to direct the flame safely over my head, even if Niva had not made her move.
“Thank you, Regunin, Caxon, Jylla,” I breathed.
With Amalia still astride his neck, ranting and waving her arms, Shardas was now flying back to the King’s Seat. Niva swooped over the ruined field to the small wood where we had seen Feniul and the others take cover.
“Thank you, Shardas,” I said as we landed, and Luka ran out to meet us.
The New Palace by Night
Luka and the Duke of Mordrel had both escaped, but many of their men had not. After we had gathered anyone who was left to gather we returned to the duke’s country estate. I rode Niva, and Feniul and Amacarin flew back and forth, watching for Roulaini-controlled dragons.
; “There’s no help for it,” Earl Sarryck said when we were once more ensconced in the sitting room with the maps and stacks of herbs and yarn. “We will have to destroy the remainder of the beasts. Particularly this gold-coloured one.”
A horrified gasp came from Marta, who gave me a quick look of sympathy and reached out to pat my hand. I shook her off and rose to my feet. I wasn’t shocked, I was even more filled with rage than I had been at seeing Amalia riding Shardas.
“They are not beasts,” I said in a carefully controlled voice. “They are not rabid dogs or lame horses, and it is not for you to decide that they must be slaughtered.” I folded my arms and glared at the startled earl. “And furthermore, I’d like to see you try.”
“What’s that?”
“I’d like to see you bring down one dragon, let alone ten,” I clarified. “Their scales deflect arrows, they can breathe fire, and they can fly. How, precisely, were you planning to destroy them?”
“The same way Milun the First did,” the earl said grimly. “Ambush. Spears, archers, swords to finish the job.”
A brittle laugh burst from my lips. “Yes, let’s all follow Milun’s example: butchering a thinking, feeling creature who called him friend, using her hide for his own purposes, and lying about it to cover his perfidy. Gave him the slippers out of friendship, indeed!”
“King Milun did what needed to be done –”
“King Milun was a –” I began, but Luka interrupted before I could say anything shocking.
“Some of these dragons are our allies,” he said, putting his arm around me. “Creel is right: we should be working with them, not executing them for actions they cannot control.”
“That gold dragon destroyed a field and killed twenty men as well!” The earl pounded his fist on the table, sending a map slithering on to the floor. “I believe that could be considered a crime in this country.”
“He was being controlled by Amalia,” I protested.
With an effort, Sarryck reined in his temper. “Our border is completely open now, patrolled by Roulaini soldiers. Prilian is leading his army straight to the King’s Seat, with dragons flying overhead to prevent any attack we might stage. We don’t have time to win the creatures over to our side, one by one. We need to eliminate them, and concentrate on moving our men into position around the King’s Seat.”
“But with the dragons working for us,” I protested, “we’ll have the extra edge over the Roulaini.”
“Three will have to be sufficient,” the earl countered. “Because unless you can think of a way to get every dragon out of Amalia’s control by tomorrow, young woman, I can see no alternative.” His face softened. “Maybe it isn’t the fault of the dragons, as you say, but they’re dangerous all the same. A danger we cannot afford to have loose.” He picked up the latest reports from the scouts and shuffled them into a pile. “I’m giving my remaining men the extermination order.” He strode out of the room.
In my head, wheels were turning. My thoughts and feelings churned and tumbled over each other. There had to be a way to free the dragons en masse. Amalia commanded any dragon within at least two hundred leagues, thanks to those wretched slippers.
“Luka,” I said, my eyes fixed on a diagram of the New Palace that lay on the table. “How long will it take the earl to organise his men?”
Luka looked to Tobin, who held up his thumb. “They’re standing ready, but it’s dark now, so they won’t be able to move out until tomorrow morning. Dawn probably.”
“Good.” I got to my feet, shaking out my crumpled and now rather stained and ragged skirt. “I’m going after the slippers myself. By the time he’s organised his ambushes, I’ll have them back on my feet and our problems will be solved.”
The duke raised his eyebrows. “And how do you propose to do that?”
“Easily,” I said, hoping that my voice wouldn’t tremble. “I’m going to have Feniul fly me to the palace, and then I’m going to find Amalia, punch her nose, and take them back. Niva and Amacarin are collared, Prilian has, what, three dragons with him? That means five fewer dragons guarding the palace.” I tried to snap my fingers, but they were shaking too badly. I would not let Shardas and the others be “exterminated”, even if I died on this fool’s errand.
“I’m coming with you,” Luka said.
“Absolutely not.” The duke stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Neither of you is going anywhere tonight. I will not allow a royal prince to endanger himself in this way, Luka. And Creel.” He turned to me. “You’re an intelligent young woman: think! What chance do you really have at succeeding? Even if Feniul can get you to the palace without a hostile dragon seeing you, how will you find Amalia? I’ve no doubt she’s heavily guarded. How will you get the slippers and escape?”
Luka sagged back in his chair, glum, but I didn’t waver. “I would rather die tonight trying to help my friends, then stand by tomorrow as every one of Sarryck’s bowmen opens fire on them. Besides, as the earl himself keeps saying: we can’t afford to spare any more men. How many of the archers will die tomorrow, trying to kill the dragons? Their arrows will be little better than kindling.”
Now it was the duke’s turn to sag. “I know. And Sarryck knows. But we don’t have any experience with this: last time we fought the Roulaini, the dragons were on our side.”
“Let me go,” I said levelly. “Feniul knows me. He’ll listen to my orders, he’ll protect me. And, just like the Roulaini sending Amalia in as their spy, who would suspect that you would send a young girl to steal the slippers?”
The duke stared moodily at the fireplace for a long time.
“You’ll have to lock me up to stop me, you know,” I said a few minutes later.
“I know.” He ran his fingers through his greying hair. “Just … try to be careful.”
“I will.” Impulsively I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry.”
He snorted at that. “At least Prince Luka has some sense,” he said, indicating the morose prince, slumped in the chair beside us. Luka grunted.
I went to ask Feniul, who was somewhere in the gardens with the other dragons. I had just stepped on to the gravel path that led to the herb garden when Luka came out of the manor behind me and grabbed my arm.
“I’m going with you,” he said, his voice low and tense. His free hand gripped the hilt of his sword.
“Fine,” I said, hiding my relief at not having to go it alone. “Just don’t get in my way.”
We found Feniul in the duchess’s herb garden, trying not to trample anything. I told him what I wanted, and he dithered.
“You are Shardas’s cousin,” I reminded him. “You have an obligation to him.”
“All right.” He sighed reluctantly.
“All you have to do is drop me on the roof of the palace. You can fly back here, and I’ll climb down into a window. Your part will be easy.”
Feniul gave another sigh and stopped beating the lavender plants with his tail. He bent down for me to mount.
I climbed up Feniul’s shoulder and took my place between his neck ridges, just behind the collar. Unfortunate though it was that they were even necessary, I found the collars to be very handy for dragon riding. Luka asked Feniul’s permission to come along, but Niva stepped forward and offered to let him ride.
“I have business to conduct in the King’s Seat,” she said, and neither of us dared to ask what it was. Luka scrambled on to her back, and I gave Feniul a pat on the neck.
“Go, Feniul!”
We flew to the King’s Seat at a faster speed than I had ever gone before. I had to keep my eyes shut for some of the trip, and was heartily glad that I had been too upset to eat supper. It certainly made me swallow my earlier delusions concerning my dragon-riding abilities. I came to realise that on my previous rides the dragons had been going slow to spare my delicate constitution. But Niva had no time or patience for human weakness. She set the pace, and Feniul struggled to keep up with the larger dragon, with me clin
ging to his back like a nauseated burr.
When we approached the King’s Seat, things looked even worse than they had before. Much of the city was on fire, and a number of the manors surrounding the palace had been reduced to rubble as well. Several of the larger houses that still stood had lights in their windows, and the wind carried the sound of men shouting drinking songs. The earl’s scouts had reported that more regiments of Roulaini soldiers had arrived in the past few days, but I don’t think even he realised how many there were. I counted at least five mansions that had been turned into barracks.
By tugging on Feniul’s collar and pointing broadly, I managed to direct both dragons to land on the top of a chapel. It was the same flat-roofed building with the squat steeples where Shardas and I had enjoyed a midnight talk weeks ago. I slithered off Feniul’s back, and Luka joined me.
“What now?” He looked at the sky nervously, but there was no sign of a dragon patrol.
“We can’t land on the roof, like I planned,” I said. “There are far more soldiers than I counted on. Luka, you know the palace best. How do we get inside, and find Amalia, without being caught?”
He blew his breath out, stirring my hair. “That could be a problem. I was hoping that you had a better plan.”
“No, I was too upset to think of an alternative.”
“Well, all my family’s apartments have broad balconies. If Niva and Feniul could drop us on to a balcony, our best bet would be to sneak through the family quarters and make our way to the council rooms. I don’t think there was a light in Miles’s rooms …” He scanned the skies again.
“But what if we run into Shardas, or one of the others?” Feniul dipped his head and spoke in the dragon version of a whisper, which nevertheless vibrated my back teeth. “We’ll have to fly straight across the square. Anyone, human or dragon, might see us.”
“True,” I agreed. “What if they dropped us at the far end of the gardens, and we snuck in ourselves? Through a kitchen door or some such place?”
“The palace is crawling with Roulaini soldiers. They’d catch us long before we got within a hundred metres of Amalia,” Luka predicted, shaking his head. “First we’d have to get across the gardens, then into the palace, and then through the halls. Not possible.”
Dragonskin Slippers Page 20