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The Firstland rose up from the sea like a lingering cloud bank that later solidified into dry land. Berigor flew along a narrow valley lined with giant carvings of male warriors. A pair of statues protruded from the valley walls and crossed swords over the river, each with an arm in the water. Swirling eddies surrounded the massive statues, and Emmet was glad they weren't on a seafaring vessel. When the dragon flew beneath the crossed swords, one of which had long since lost its tip, Emmet held his breath, fearing he would be dashed upon the ancient carvings.
No one made a sound. Al'Drakon rode before him, fiercely concentrating on the way ahead, planning their every move. Alongside them flew Ariodarch, Tarin and Dosser on his back. The other dragon was smaller than Berigor and bore deep scars. These were battle dragons, Emmet reminded himself. He hoped never to witness dragons fighting. Flying to war upon one made that unlikely. Still, if this were to work, it would be a surprise attack. Everyone on this mission was there for a reason. Al'Drakon would have come alone, but Tarin and Dosser had insisted he would be unable to subdue all the guards and protect Emmet at the same time. Thus it had been decided.
Emmet understood enough to be afraid. They were flying into enemy territory, searching for the largest collection of magic items known to exist in the world. The thrill of getting to locate that much magic made Emmet giddy, and he had difficulty spending more than a moment considering the rest of the situation. Already the magic called to him. Time skipped a beat, and he hoped it would not compress. This was no time for an episode.
When the tip of a hollowed-out mountain became visible, both dragons dipped low and landed along a rocky shoreline. Too much daylight remained. Al'Drakon dismounted, reached up to grab Emmet, and helped him down. Nightfall approached but the outline of the mountain was still visible. Al'Drakon led Emmet farther along the valley floor until much more of the mountain could be seen. For Emmet, nothing else existed. The place radiated magic on a gigantic scale, and he was overcome. For so much of his life, he had sought out any morsel of magic. He would have been so happy with some little sliver of energy, some mere spark, and here was a conflagration like a land-bound star.
"Do you see it?" Al'Drakon asked in a whisper.
Emmet almost laughed but instead nodded and pointed.
Al'Drakon used a stick to draw the mountain with its many entranceways and zigzagging stairways. Emmet pointed to one doorway in particular, fourth down and third in from the west. Others also shone, but none so brightly as that one. Emmet held his hands out wide. Pointing to the other doorways, he held his hands closer together to indicate less bright. They would have stayed longer, but aircraft overhead sent them scrambling for cover. There was no way to know if they had been seen. All they could do was hope for the best, which was unnerving. It made the wait for the dead of the night even more painful. When at last the rest of the world slept, Al'Drakon roused Emmet and asked him if he was ready. Emmet nodded. He'd always been ready for this.
Berigor moved with quiet strength, allowing Al'Drakon and Emmet to mount. Creaking leather and the wind catching the dragon's wings were the only evidence of their passing. Ariodarch flew in Berigor's shadow, low and silent. When the valley opened and the entire hollow mountain became visible, the scale of what they were taking on was apparent. An even larger mountain loomed in the background but was not their destination. Moonlight left the mountains in stark relief, the ramparts and stairs on the nearest shining blue. Unlike the Heights, this mountain appeared to have been hollowed out by man, either that or much smaller dragons. Even if it had once been inhabited by dragons, none remained. Argus Kind hated dragons.
Berigor used their speed to scale the mountain, hugging close to one of the stairways. Ariodarch mirrored this approach on the neighboring stair. When they reached the fourth entrance down and third in from the west, both dragons landed atop the stairs, doing their best to remain silent, though it sounded like a great echoing commotion to Emmet. No matter how excited he was about the magic flowing from the doorway, the sense of danger was inescapable. Al'Drakon dismounted and helped Emmet down, this time placing the boy directly beside him. Tarin and Dosser slid down from Ariodarch, flanking Al'Drakon and Emmet. The dragons regained the skies with barely a sound.
Along with the magic overwhelming Emmet's other senses, lanterns glowed brightly within. Guards flanked two doorways.
Using blunt, thrown weapons, Tarin and Dosser both cast two attacks at once. All but one guard were struck unconscious by the initial attacks, and he soon joined the others. These guards had been half asleep; no one had yet raised an alarm. Deeper into the mountain they went, following Emmet's direction. Al'Drakon did not argue or hesitate; he simply moved forward with an outrageous sense of confidence.
Could nothing stop this man?
Another pair of guards was subdued without incident. Emmet was amazed how easy it was to penetrate the Zjhon defenses until he stepped into the magic room. "Wow," he said. "Magic." When the thought hit him an instant later, Emmet could not believe any words had left his lips at such a crucial time. Four guards appeared from within a museum of magical artifacts. Glassy orbs and staves immediately caught Emmet's attention, but there were also bowlike weapons and behind them a gleaming saddle that looked the right size to fit Dashiq. Al'Drakon intercepted one guard who moved to yank on a rope hanging from the ceiling. Tarin launched more blunt weapons, but these people were more alert and prepared for a fight. At the same time, two men closed on Dosser and another grabbed Al'Drakon from behind.
Emmet meant these people no harm, and he cringed at the thought of hurting even those who fought against the Drakon. When the alarm sounded, it was clear at least some of those who'd been subdued were now coming to. Al'Drakon had the wooden box in his hands, but the stones were still inside. He should have taken them out sooner. Emmet, on the other hand, stroked a clear stone. Though rough cut, its surface was smooth as silk. No one had seen him take it from the cache in the Heights. The memory was almost enough to make him smile if not for also being sad. He missed Riette.
In spite of all that, he chose to focus on the positive. Never before had he known such power and magic, and he was giddy with it. Rubbing the cool stone with his thumb, he leaned into time. It stretched. As if by his command, the world slowed around him. The harder he tried, the more slowly it moved. It gave him time to think, time to move, time to act. For so much of his life, time had been his enemy, and now for once he possessed the ability to use it as a tool. He understood why Argus Kind hoarded the magic. Who would not desire such a wondrous collection? His methods for acquiring many pieces could be called into question, but that seemed far away at the moment.
Even with time slowed, Emmet felt the magic intensely. The thought of destroying it all made him sick, but some part of him understood why. Seeing Al'Drakon about to go down under two guards and bright lights now shining into the room, Emmet hurried. Magic flowing into his body from the stone. He continued stretching time while orchestrating their escape. Flinging glass spheres into the air was just the first part of his attack. A stave knocked over here and a bowlike weapon fired there, a kick to the knee one long instant, a shove the next. Sirens wailed and the keep awoke. Emmet looked back at the Drakon, who fought in slow motion. For an instant he wished he could move them through time with him, but then he considered the consequences of inflicting others with his condition. He wouldn't wish it on anyone. Even with all this magic, he was still out of synchronization with the rest of the world. And now he was destroying it all, knowing he might never again get the opportunity to unlock the mystery of his craving for magic. Already he knew he would not be satisfied. All the power in the world was useless absent the knowledge of what to do with it. That thought brought him to tears.
The Drakon finally turned the corner, and Emmet did everything he could to disrupt those rushing into the main hall in various states of undress. Racing to each searchlight, Emmet aimed them strategically, blinding the Zjhon. More light
s combed the skies outside, crisscrossing and searching. Emmet thought he saw a shadow move through the searchlights. Heavy weapons fired. He could only hope the dragons would survive and return in time.
The first flash did not seem real, but the following thump set Emmet's teeth on edge. The chain reaction he had started now cascaded. Al'Drakon and his men did not move quickly enough. Emmet looked down at his palm, at the now milky stone streaked with white. He understood what it meant, but no time remained. The irony was not lost on him.
Using every bit of magic at his disposal, Emmet drew the Drakon to him, not physically but vibrationally—just a little tug then a push. With that, the men sped through time, wise enough to take advantage of the situation and not question it. Perhaps they had experienced something similar in battle, but Emmet doubted it had ever been this extreme. Even for him, this stretched time to its limits—or his limits, as the case may be.
When they reached the ledge, the dragons weren't there. Time had run out. Multiple air cannons turned toward Emmet and company, ready to blast them into the air. Emmet jumped.
Berigor and Ariodarch fought to get closer but were taking fire. It was already too late. Time retracted with sudden ferocity and he fell. The rough-cut magic stone he held grew hot, chalky, and rough while he slowed his fall with magic. After a final crack, the stone shattered and was sucked away by the wind, broken down into naught but white dust.
Dragon Airways Page 30