Gold Dragon

by Lindsay Buroker

  Nor did I, Azarwrath confessed. Get us closer. I can finish off the sorceress. She is running from your colonel while the pirates get in the way—they are protecting her.

  Trip accelerated into a dive, the smoky deck of the enemy airship coming into view again. He saw Grady, whirling and slashing, deflecting bullets fired at him and cutting down pirates. He was a deadly force, but Azarwrath was right. The sorceress had run behind a lifeboat mounted near the railing.

  Can we destroy this foul vessel? Bhrava Saruth asked, flying past on the opposite side of the airship and peering at the deck. I can burn more than its little balloon.

  Not yet, Trip told him. We have a man aboard it.

  Trip focused on the sorceress as she used her power to bring down a support beam that was over Grady’s head. Trip shifted his attention to hurl it out of the way, though Grady must have heard it snap, because he sprang to the side before it would have struck. He glanced in Trip’s direction and lifted a hand.

  The sorceress also glanced in Trip’s direction as he flew closer, her expression far less friendly.

  Azarwrath sent lightning streaking toward her. Trip sensed her putting all her energy into her defenses. He squinted at her and imagined those defenses being ripped away. They fell instantly, and the lightning slammed into her, wrapping all around her and charring her flesh. She screamed and tumbled away from the lifeboat, slamming into the railing. Azarwrath hurled a blast of wind. The railing broke, and she fell over the side.

  Trip winced, always more disturbed by killing human beings than dragons. He reminded himself that these people had been attacking an Iskandian freighter.

  His flier’s momentum had carried him past the pirate vessel, and he banked to come back in again. The crew ought to be ready to give up with their sorceress dead, but the man with the chapaharii bow might still be firing arrows. Earlier, one of those arrows had popped Trip’s barrier right before a barrage of rifle fire came at him. He’d weaved and tilted his wings crazily, but the confines of the ship had limited his maneuverability, and that first bullet had taken him by surprise.

  “The Iskandian airship is falling faster,” Ahn said. “A lot faster.”

  Trip shifted his focus to it, hoping he had the power to levitate it or at least slow its fall enough that it wouldn’t be destroyed when it landed in the water. Unfortunately, he had never attempted to affect something so large.

  He’d barely started trying when he sensed someone else using power on it. The airship halted a few dozen yards above the ocean, its crew members on their knees, bracing for impact. They lifted their heads in surprise.

  Ah, finally I have done some good, Bhrava Saruth announced. Shulina Arya was hogging the battle with the male.

  It’s not my fault you were so slow to attack, Shulina Arya said.

  I could have attacked with great speed, but I did not wish my assaults to strike you as well as the male. You were so close to him that you could have licked his tail.

  I bit his tail.

  Trip looked around for Shulina Arya, wanting to see Rysha, to make sure she had come through unscathed. That archer had added an unexpected element.

  She is fine, Azarwrath said. Only you were shot.

  That’s good then.

  It would have been better if you hadn’t been shot. Telryn, I know you are accustomed to shooting things with this flying contraption, but as a sorcerer, there is no need to get so close.

  I’ll keep that in mind.

  Trip spotted the bronze dragon in the distance. Telmandaroo had stayed out of the way, never engaging. That was fine. Trip was happy he hadn’t worked with the pirates against his team.

  But where was Shulina Arya?

  Look down, Azarwrath advised.

  A dead gold dragon floated on the waves not far from where the Iskandian airship hovered. Shulina Arya was flying in circles around it.

  “What’s going on down there?” Trip asked curiously.

  Rysha sighed, the noise just audible over her communication crystal. “I’m retrieving my sword.”

  “You threw it again?” Trip imagined them having to dive thousands of feet into the ocean to get it off the bottom. “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that with a sword.”

  “I didn’t throw it. It got stuck.”

  Rysha slithered off Shulina Arya’s back, surprising Trip. She landed in the water next to the dead dragon and swam toward his head.

  “I’m landing on the pirate ship for long enough to pick up Colonel Grady,” Ahn said. “He has singlehandedly cut down most of the crew.”

  “I’m sure your bullets took down plenty of them,” Trip said—Ahn sounded a little envious.

  “A few. The sorceress was protecting them. Was she a powerful one? She seemed strong.”

  Once Trip had known she existed and focused on her, it hadn’t been difficult to defeat her. He thought that might sound like bragging, so he only said, “I believe she could have rivaled Sardelle in power, so she was strong for this era, yes.”

  “Got it,” Rysha said, then grunted with effort. “Sort of.”

  Trip flew down closer in case she needed help. She planted her boots on the dragon’s maw, one on a fang and one on a lip, and pulled backward, both hands on Dorfindral’s hilt. The sword finally slid from the roof of the dragon’s mouth. Rysha looked up at Shulina Arya, and Trip sensed her trying to figure out how to get back on her back.

  He tried to lift her before remembering Dorfindral wouldn’t allow it. He was surprised Shulina Arya could affect her as much as she could, since it was magic that kept a rider on a dragon’s back.

  Shulina Arya dove down into the water and came up beside Rysha so she could climb back on.

  How long do I have to hold this hulking boat here? Bhrava Saruth asked, flying lazy circles around the hovering Iskandian freighter.

  “If it’s not seaworthy, it’ll need a ride back to Iskandia,” Ahn said.

  You wish me to carry it all the way across the ocean?

  Do you feel you won’t be able to nap sufficiently if you have to do that? Shulina Arya asked, flying up from the water with Rysha aboard.

  “Can you hold it there for a half hour or so?” Trip piloted his flier toward the airship. “I’ll land on the deck and see if I can put out the fires and help the crew repair it.”

  A half hour? Bhrava Saruth sighed dramatically into their minds. Very well.

  Bhrava Saruth is a very old dragon, Shulina Arya informed them. It distresses him when he can’t nap on an hourly basis.

  I am not old! I am magnificent and in the prime of my life. There is nothing wrong with enjoying a nap while the sun beats upon your scales—your skin—and someone else flies you. Though I do not believe I will sit in the back of one of those flying contraptions again until pillows are installed.

  “We’ll be sure to put in a work order for that,” Ahn muttered.

  What remained of the Iskandian crew scattered as Trip flew close, glad he had one of the two-seater fliers, since it had thrusters. He activated them and came down on a portion of the deck that appeared less charred than others. Flames still burned in numerous spots, though the crew seemed to have realized the battle was over and that they could come out and attempt to put them out.

  People poked their heads out from behind supports and railings. Since Trip wore his Iskandian uniform and was in one of the iconic bronze dragon fliers, he didn’t expect trouble, but he lifted his hand, the one on the uninjured side, and tried to look friendly. That was a challenge with the ache in his shoulder. At the least, he hoped he didn’t appear dragonly or odd.

  A ragged cheer went up. That was encouraging.

  Ahn’s flier also headed for the deck, Colonel Grady once again in her back seat.

  “Can you handle talking to the crew, Captain?” Trip asked. “I’d like to focus on fixing their ship. Perhaps my shoulder, too, if there’s time.”

  “What happened to your shoulder?” Ahn asked.

  “I got shot.”


  “Ah. Yes, stay in your cockpit and do your magic. We’ll have Colonel Grady talk to the civilian captain since he outranks us. And has half a ballad composed.”

  “Really, Captain,” came Grady’s voice from the back seat. “I’ve only composed a few lines in my head.”

  “You already titled it.”

  “Sometimes, titles come before the first words have been written. Captain Trip, I can’t tell you how pleased I am about your nickname.”

  “Oh?” Trip wondered if he should feel wary.

  “It rhymes with so many things.” Grady sounded truly delighted.

  The first words that popped into Trip’s mind were drip, pip, and gyp, which left him less delighted.

  How about airship, wing tip, and bullwhip? Azarwrath suggested.

  Those sound like they could lead to slightly more promising lyrics, Trip allowed, noting that Azarwrath had come up with words with more syllables. Did that mean he was smarter than Trip, and if so, should he be concerned? Can you heal my wound while I work on the ship?

  I shall endeavor to do so, though without Jaxi here to incinerate the bullet, I will be handicapped.

  Was that sarcasm?

  Of course not. That would be poor sportsmanship. Trip. Fan of the potato chip. Azarwrath grinned into his mind, apparently pleased by this new word game.

  Trip closed his eyes and slumped back in the cockpit.

  13

  By the time Rysha slid off Shulina Arya’s back and onto the deck of the Iskandian airship, the pirate vessel had fallen out of the sky. It floated in the ocean below, its envelope half burned away, the tattered and charred remains whipping about in the breeze. The Iskandian ship remained aloft, thanks to Bhrava Saruth’s magic. He continued to fly in slow circles around the vessel, waiting for Trip to repair it.

  With her uniform dripping and her bun hanging wet and limp at the nape of her neck, Rysha walked toward the cluster of merchant sailors standing with Captain Ahn and Colonel Grady.

  Several of the crew looked at her, and at Shulina Arya behind her, the dragon crouching with her wings folded in so she would fit on the deck under the envelope. They clapped and a few let out whoops of praise and thanks. Rysha felt embarrassed by the attention, even if it seemed more for Shulina Arya than her, but she was glad the crew was appreciative, especially given that there were a few dead being carried from the deck. Rysha wished her team had arrived earlier, so nobody would have been lost, but she reminded herself that only luck had brought them here in time to help at all.

  “We’re bound for the capital,” a graying man was telling Colonel Grady and Ahn. “All of Iskandia will be glad that you were able to help us. It appears that, despite all the damage up here, the cargo and the hold are safe.”

  “All of Iskandia?” Grady asked. “What are you carrying that’s so important? And why didn’t you wait until a military escort was available to accompany you?”

  “Military escorts are in short supply,” the graying man said, the captain presumably. “We would have had to wait six weeks, and our cargo is perishable. We’re carrying chocolate, coffee, and sugarcane.”

  “Ah, that is an important cargo.”

  “I know of several dragons who would have been distressed if the markets in the capital ran out of sugar.” Rysha glanced back at Shulina Arya. “That being a primary ingredient in tarts.”

  The captain squinted at her, as if he was trying to figure out if she was joking or not. Then he looked past her, and his eyes grew rounder than silver nucros. He stumbled backward, almost tripping on his own feet.

  Shulina Arya’s head appeared over Rysha’s shoulder, as large and intimidating as always. The crew must have found it easier to appreciate her from the other side of the ship. Up close, she was admittedly large.

  The group took several more steps back when her mouth parted slightly, enough to reveal her long white fangs. Even Ahn and Grady appeared concerned.

  Tarts? Shulina Arya asked. Did someone say there are tarts here?

  “Sorry, no,” Rysha said. “Merely one of the ingredients integral in making tarts.”

  That is disappointing. I find sweets delightful, especially after a strenuous battle. We did not have sweets in the other world.

  “So that’s why dragons came back,” Colonel Grady said.

  “I have a sack of jawbreakers in my cabin,” the captain said, transfixed as he continued to stare at Shulina Arya.

  Rysha didn’t think the dragon was trying to manipulate the crew in any way, but they did appear influenced by her presence, her strong aura. Rysha tended to forget how powerful and compelling it was since she so often carried Dorfindral and was less affected by it.

  Jawbreakers? Shulina Arya asked.

  “I’ll get them for you. You can try one.” The captain ran for a hatchway leading below decks as if he worried someone would flog him if he didn’t move quickly enough.

  “Is he coming back?” Grady arched an eyebrow. “Or was that an excuse?”

  “I think he’s eager to please Shulina Arya,” Rysha said. “She was paramount in saving the ship.”

  “You did well, too, Lieutenant.” Grady nodded at her. “I’m fortunate to be surrounded by competent officers, especially considering how useless I felt until the very end.” Grady patted his sword scabbard.

  Ahn winced. Rysha didn’t think the words had been meant as a slight against her or her piloting skills, but Ahn said, “I’ll have to practice to get better at bringing the flier close enough for someone with a chapaharii sword to attack. I’ve been in the position you were in, sir, and I know it’s frustrating not to be able to reach the target. In the battle with Morishtomaric a few years ago, I had to tie a rope to my ankle so I could run out on the wings.”

  Grady’s mouth dangled open at this image. Rysha expected him to say that was ludicrous and that whoever had been in charge of that mission should have been punished for allowing Ahn to take such dangerous measures.

  Instead, he called out, “Does anybody have any rope they can spare?”

  Most of the crew were gazing at Shulina Arya with enraptured expressions and didn’t seem to hear him.

  “I’ll go look for myself,” Grady said. “And help with repairs. Or will Captain Trip be able to use his magic to do everything?” He looked dubiously toward the fliers.

  Trip remained in his cockpit, slumped forward with his forehead resting on the dashboard. He looked so out of it that Rysha worried he’d been injured. If he had been, he hadn’t said anything.

  She took a step in that direction, intending to check on him, but paused when the captain jogged back out on deck, holding what looked like a sack of marbles. At first, it seemed he would keep going and thrust the bag out to offer to Shulina Arya, but her jaws parted in interest, and the motion happened to reveal even more of her fangs. The captain stuttered to a halt.

  “I’ll give them to her.” Rysha walked toward him. “Are you offering the whole bag or just one?”

  “She would eat the whole bag?”

  “You should see what she does to a tray of tarts.”

  The captain looked inside and plucked out the largest jawbreaker Rysha had ever seen, its spherical surface covered in blue, yellow, and green swirls. Though she doubted the captain was lying about the contents of his stash, Rysha sniffed it to make sure it was indeed food. The ultra-sweet scent didn’t appeal to her, but she also hadn’t spent all day flapping her wings and carrying a rider.

  She walked the jawbreaker to Shulina Arya as the crew watched.

  “You suck on it,” Rysha told the dragon. “They’re too hard to chew. Well, they are for humans. I don’t imagine anything could break a dragon’s jaw.”

  Suck? Shulina Arya sounded puzzled. Maybe dragon anatomy didn’t allow for sucking.

  “You’ll see.” Rysha held the treat out in offering.

  A giant pink tongue lolled out, coming to rest on the deck. As large as the jawbreaker was, it appeared small in comparison. Rysha rested it in th
e center of the dragon’s tongue and stepped back.

  Shulina Arya lifted her head, drawing her tongue in. It tastes good. Not as good as tarts, but tangy.

  She shifted her jaw around, opening and closing it without actually crunching down. Maybe she was trying to suck. The jawbreaker slid sideways and fell out between two large teeth. It clattered on the deck and rolled away. The tongue shot out, startling the crew as it landed on the jawbreaker and flattened, keeping it from escaping. Next, the tongue tilted and flexed as Shulina Arya tried to pick up her lost prize.

  Rysha gripped her chin, debating if her duty as a rider extended to picking up saliva-covered candy to deposit—re-deposit—in a dragon’s mouth.

  Shulina Arya gave up on recapturing it with her tongue and instead floated the candy back into her mouth with her magic. This time, she crunched down on it. It sounded like bone breaking. Apparently, the treat satisfied her, because she turned her head toward the captain and his bag, her expression most expectant.

  Rysha patted her on the neck and walked toward Trip. She trusted Shulina Arya could handle the rest of the bag on her own if the captain was willing to share it.

  Trip’s forehead still rested on the dashboard, and his eyes were closed. Rysha didn’t want to disturb him while he concentrated on his magic, so she climbed into the empty seat behind him.

  I am healing his injury, Azarwrath informed her.

  She frowned, almost reaching forward to touch Trip. He had been injured.

  Will he be all right?

  Something floated back to her, then clanked onto the floor of her seat well. A bloody bullet. She grimaced. That was even worse than a dragon-beslimed jawbreaker.

  Yes, Azarwrath said.

  That’s good. Can I help with anything? Rysha couldn’t imagine what, but she felt like she should be doing more than sitting down. The captain was shooing his crew back to work cleaning and repairing the ship. It was a mess, with broken boards and soot everywhere.

  I believe Telryn would find it extremely helpful if you rested your hand on his shoulder in a loving and encouraging manner.