"Uron, you're done," called Drok as the dragon made his way to join his defeated teammates. By the time he reached his corner, the sparks had dissipated. Jora explained that the sparks were harmless, used only to indicate when a magic strike was successful.
Less than ten minutes passed before only one dragon from each team remained. They circled each other tentatively, testing each other's weaknesses with brief feints. The white rider sent an arrow toward the black pair, but dragon and rider worked together to dodge the paint-tipped projectile. Sparks flew from the black dragon's hand, but the white dragon responded swiftly, blocking the attack with an invisible shield. While Drok was contemplating calling a stalemate, the black dragon put on a burst of speed, bringing his rider in close to the white duo. The white dragon veered off, narrowly avoiding the black rider's spear. The black dragon corrected, bringing himself around to face the white dragon, but the white dragon did not turn as expected. He continued in his loop, bringing himself around behind the black dragon. Sparks flew from his claws and the black dragon's attempt to shield came too late. Sparks laced up his back and he sighed in frustration as his rider released a shout of anger.
Drok called an end to the match and declared the white team the winners amid applause from the visitors. The teams regrouped outside the arena and began discussing what parts of their strategies worked and failed. As the twelve dragons gathered together, Drok and Kalibus said their goodbyes to the spectators and went to give their critiques to the participants in the battle.
The humans climbed down off the stands and the blue and red dragons flew to the ground to meet them. Ychthorn expressed interest in watching again and Jora made arrangements with Kalibus for Thorn and Chelandra to view the match the next day. She also secured them an appointment with Kalibus' second-in-command, Ino, to begin their training for the upcoming assault on Rona. The group waved to the battle participants and headed back toward Jora's wagon for dinner. After they ate, Cerol took Ychthorn for a test flight to gauge his ability to stay aloft and perform maneuvers without injuring himself further, while the others remained with Jora.
Chapter 29
The sun had yet to crest above the still horizon when the first shadows were seen above the trees. Silence reigned over the campsite, not a rooster crowed, not a cow lowed. No living thing walked among the cold, dark wagons as the approaching dragons blotted out the meager light.
An uneasiness settled over the airborne attackers as their land-bound compatriots moved noisily below them. Large wooden machines crashed loudly through the forest, knocking small trees outward from the sides of the path leading into the camp. The leading ground troops plowed into the opening at the end of the dirt tracks. Wagons stood in a thick semi-circle around the open space, not a gap could be seen between them. No lights shone in the windows and no fires burned. The soldiers on the ground fidgeted nervously in the eerily pale light, looking to their commanders overhead.
The man aboard the green lead dragon signaled for the ground troops to hold their position and the dragons in his airborne assault team swooped silently over Legh, looking for signs of life in the encampment below. At his command, the group split into two, one squad heading east while the other headed west.
Commander Locke joined the group going west. He ordered his dragon to sweep low over the silent wagons, keeping his eyes peeled for any movement below. Without warning, the dragon whipped its head around, making a sharp turn north. Locke growled in anger and smacked the scaly hide beneath him with a spiked stick hanging from his saddle. The dragon did not retaliate, aware of the consequences of such actions. Instead, the green beast pointed to the reason for his disobedience.
A small child was darting between the shadows of the wagons. Locke leaned forward, a sick gleam of delight creeping into his eyes. The child was female, no older than ten, her long brown braids and tattered dress trailing in the wind as she ran. Feeling the breath of the beast behind her, she glanced back, terror apparent on her face. Putting on a burst of speed, she raced toward the far end of the camp. Locke dogged her every move, stalking the girl, but unwilling to harm his one clue to the fate of the camp. She slowed briefly as she reached the last wagon beside a massive open field, but pressed on when she saw the dark creature bearing down on her. Racing into the field, she ran with everything she had left, making a beeline for the trees on the opposite side of the clearing.
"Now!"
The sound broke through the still air, jarring Locke out of his hunt-induced stupor. The girl huddled below, crouched beneath a shimmering shield. Dragons rose in front of him, barring his path. He yanked on the reins and his dragon made a tight loop, turning him back toward the camp. Six of the twelve members in his squad had followed him through the camp on the chase. All six were trapped in a circle of enemies. A dragon to Locke's right snorted in fear and began to back up, but Locke glared at the rider, who promptly whipped the dragon with a spiked stick. The dragon snorted once more, but returned to his place in the formation.
Locke surveyed their position quickly. The six dragons in his squad who had followed him west were trapped by more than a dozen dragons, some with riders, some riderless. The riders all held weapons of various sorts—bows, spears, maces, swords, and one held a device Locke was not familiar with. Several of the dragons were also armed, carrying lances, pikes, and barbed spears. Dragons and riders both wore armor from their feet to their helms, while Locke's dragons were without armor except for small breastplates. Flames and lightning bolts to the left drew Locke's attention and he realized the other half of his airborne contingent was not faring well. Screams from both humans and dragons pierced the air, setting Locke's soldiers on edge.
"Surrender," demanded a dragon-riding Gypsy in front of Locke, "or die before the sun rises."
Locke glanced to the east, where the first rays of sunlight were peeking over the trees. His men looked at him, some pleading silently for their lives. The dragons dare not look into his eyes. Most considered his punishments worse than death. The commander raised his head and squared his shoulders.
"I choose death," he responded. "For you."
At the commander's signal, his dragon darted toward the nearest attacker, raking at the rider on its back and tearing at the dragon's neck. His minions threw themselves at dragons close to them, using whatever abilities they had. A glob of bright flame spouted from his second lieutenant's dragon, causing his target to scream in pain and veer away from the battle as the spit ate through his armor and scales, searing his flesh.
Two dragons rose in the creature's place, lunging at the man with long, pointed lances. A flaming arrow flew from the bow of one of the riders, piercing the man's armor and sinking deep into his side. His garbled cries ended quickly as the poisonous flames ate through his chest. Fear replaced reason and the man's dragon launched at the nearest opponent, skewering himself on the end of its lance. The wielder of the lance pulled a blade from a sheath on his underbelly, slicing across the wounded dragon's neck, ending the anguished screams before the dragon hit the earth.
Locke tore his stare from the dead dragon and appraised his situation. Two of his dragons, along with their riders, were dead; two more were severely wounded and had been captured when they landed. Only he and two others remained in the battle, surrounded by more than half a dozen vile creatures. They had taken out only four of their attackers. Setting his face in grim determination, he turned his attention back to the task at hand—ending the life of the beast his dragon was currently battling.
"Surrender!" The voice broke through the battle, strangely amplified. "Surrender and you shall be free. You are not meant to be slaves to the whim of a cruel tyrant! You deserve to be treated as equals. Land now, and you will not be harmed."
The commander's eyes widened as he recognized the voice. Yanking the reins, he forced his dragon to break away from its current opponent, turning it to face the newest threat. A great black beast rose before him, the beast that was supposed to be imprisoned below the
palace. Locke stared into the blood-red eyes, which locked on him, burning with pure hatred. The man on his back had shoulder-length dark hair; on his face was a sneer of pure contempt.
"Alured." The word tasted like bile in Locke's mouth.
"In the flesh." The man on the black dragon looked to the others in Locke's contingent, who continued to battle. "Your fellows to the east have been decimated. Only two remain. Your ground troops and their air support are under heavy fire and will be overcome shortly. Land. Surrender to us and you will not be harmed. You do not need to be treated like slaves any longer. Dragons and men alike deserve to be free."
The sounds of nearby battle began to wane as one of the two dragons remaining in Locke's flight team descended to the ground, offering herself up for surrender. Her rider cursed and beat her with his stick, but hope outweighed pain. As her feet touched the ground, she turned on the man and ripped the stick from his hands with her jaws. She spit the weapon to the ground, his arm still attached. Blood spurted from the gaping wound in his shoulder and he screamed in pain, beating her fiercely with his other fist. A Gypsy jumped upon the dragon's back, slicing the man's throat with a swift motion before cutting the saddle free and throwing him limply to the ground. Another Gypsy approached and began tending to the wounds the spiked stick had created, talking to the agitated creature in a soft, soothing voice.
"But Your Highness..." began the last dragon, confusion in his eyes. "These creatures..."
"Are our friends. They only want to be free, and they deserve that freedom."
The dragon looked uncertainly between the man he knew as his king and the man he knew as his cruel commander. His rider berated him, scolded him, pleaded with him. Fearing his fellow rider's fate, the spiked stick dangled uselessly at his side. After several tense moments, determination set in the dragon's eyes and he slowly lowered himself to the ground. His rider kicked him and made for the stick, but Gypsies on the ground set upon the man before he could harm the dragon any further. Locke watched, his breath ragged, as his men were set in chains and the dragons were treated like royalty. His eyes, black with anger and hatred, rose to pierce through the man he had bowed to.
"You..." The words stuck in his throat, thick with fear and pride. "You are not worthy of being called King."
Alured smiled. "I agree completely. Here, I am no king. I am simply Alured. And this is my friend and confident, Apoph. Apoph, you remember Commander Locke and his dragon Xio, don't you?"
The black dragon snarled and threw himself at the green beast. Before his black claws could make contact, the green dragon dove, slipping beneath Apoph and skimming past the dragons lunging at him from the ground. He darted toward the south, heading for the safety of his supporting troops. An arrow whistled past Locke's head and he ducked instinctively. Berating himself for such cowardice, he forced himself to sit high and proud in his seat as the dragon beneath him covered the great expanse of land between him and his only chance for survival. Stealing a glance behind him, he saw Apoph and Alured hot on his tail, an arrow nocked in Alured's bow.
When had Alured learned to shoot a bow?
The thought entered Locke's mind moments before a sharp pain tore through his lower back and abdomen. He didn't need to look down to see the arrow that pierced the flesh of his stomach, but he did anyway. It was not a simple arrow. It had sharp barbs on four sides, meant to inflict maximum damage with little effort. He would not be able to remove it easily and he feared he would bleed out if he pulled the arrow from the wound. Blood dripped from a corner of his lips as he grasped at the arrow, clinging to it as if it were his last hope. With whispered words, he urged his dragon to go faster. If they could reach the medical team at the back of the support troops, he might survive. Using what little strength that remained, he hefted the spiked stick and sunk it into his dragon's flank.
"Go!" The word came out as a gasp, the breath knocked from his lungs as the dragon reared up, surprised by the sudden pain shooting through its side. The green beast turned to stare at the stick clinging to his flesh. In that moment, a spear, thrown by a dragon hidden among the wagons still blocking the path of the troops, slipped between two gaps in his armor, burrowing deep into his heart. A weak cry escaped the green dragon before he plummeted ungracefully from the sky, barreling into several wagons and crashing in a heap on top of his rider.
Locke grunted as the full weight of his dragon landed on top of his legs. He gasped and clawed at the ground, trying to pull himself free from the beast. He knew he had to get clear, had to get to his men. The end of the arrow had snapped off when he hit the ground, but the point had been pushed back into his stomach. The barbs ripped at his insides with every movement and pain threatened to overcome him. With a last bit of determination, he gathered himself and began to slowly pull his legs from beneath the dead dragon when a wide shadow fell over him.
Alured hopped down to the ground from the back of the black dragon and walked over to Locke. He said nothing, simply watching the man on the ground as he struggled feebly to avoid fate. The former king glanced up at the green dragon, now growing cold.
"A pity. He would have made a great military leader."
Locke snarled, the action causing him to choke on the blood pouring from his mouth and nose. He glared up at his former ruler, meeting the man's stare with dignity and defiance. The pale sky drew his gaze away from the dark eyes and a sadness overcame him as he realized the sun had not yet risen above the horizon. As his last ragged breath escaped his lips, the warm rays of light broke above the trees and fell across the body of the green dragon. The man who had beat him and tortured him his entire life lay beneath him, forever covered in shadow.
Chapter 30
Alured jumped into the saddle attached to Apoph's back and called to his friend. The black dragon rose up on his hind legs, beating his wings briefly before taking flight. The other half of Locke's airborne contingent had been quelled quickly and efficiently, with four of the six dragons surrendering without putting up much of a fight. Another had fallen to her death when her master inflicted fatal wounds after she attempted to flee the battle. He was rewarded by being crushed beneath her massive weight, death coming slowly and painfully to him. The last dragon, a fire spitter, was wounded severely in a battle with Leucile; his left wing hung limply at his side as he was surrounded by several dragons and Gypsies. His rider dangled lifelessly from the saddle, an arrow piercing his throat. Two of the riders from the dragons who surrendered attempted to overcome their captors, only to feel the cold steel of Gypsy blades at their throats as their hands were bound behind their backs.
Seeing both halves of Locke's command well under control, Alured signaled to Apoph and they took off toward the ensuing battle. Fire erupted around several of the wagons that had been used to block the entrance to the camp and flames could be seen licking at the trees on either side of the path. Only a quarter of the ground troops had entered the half circle of wagons, causing a jam of equipment at the end of the path. Gypsies who had been stationed in the woods were harrying the troops all along their line, forcing the airborne support to stretch itself thin. Gaps began forming in the attackers' lines, separating soldiers from their commanders, throwing them into chaos. The defenders were taking advantage of the disorganization, focusing their attacks on small, weak groups of soldiers, capturing those who would surrender, killing those who refused to give in.
Apoph swept low over the group in the clearing, assessing the situation. In front of him, two dragons locked in battle rose up, beating against each other furiously, tearing hide and ripping chunks of flesh with their teeth. The defending dragon, the blue-tinged Filise, was riderless, preferring to fight alone. The attacking dragon, striped green and yellow, wore a saddle, but it was empty. A torn boot dangled from a strap hanging from the stirrup. At a touch from Alured, Apoph made a beeline for the pair.
They neared the two fighting dragons, circling until they found a way to help their friend. Alured released a short lance from
its holder on his saddle and hefted it in his right hand. Filise broke free of his attacker for a brief moment and they took their chance. Apoph dove at the striped dragon's flank, catching it off its guard. It swerved to the right, but Apoph dove beneath it. As the black dragon's head passed beneath the grasping claws of the attacker, Alured released his lance. The barbed point sunk deep into the dragon's chest and it reared back, roaring in pain. Wings beating desperately, the wounded beast flew the length of a wagon before its weight became too much for it to bear. As it dropped to the ground, Apoph landed next to it. He looked into the creature's eyes, seeing fear sitting heavily behind the pain and anger. The black dragon placed a clawed hand on the striped dragon's head gently.
"I'm sorry, friend. I wish I had done more to keep you from this fate. Please know that in the future, dragons will be free and will not be forced into battle like this."
Taking a knife from his battle gear, Apoph ended the dragon's lifelong suffering. Alured leaned forward and placed his arms around his friend, and together they bowed their heads for the dragon before turning back to the battle.
Apoph was coming around to face a new opponent when he and Alured heard a strange whistling sound coming from the woods. Without warning, a large boulder crashed through the trees, narrowly missing the dragon and his rider, smashing through several wagons before rolling to a stop in the deep rut it created. Alured's jaw dropped as he watched a second boulder crush one of the defending dragons, killing it almost instantly.
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