Tolemek’s heart lurched. “Now, now,” he barked and lit the grenade.
Zirkander was diving, but the dragon hadn’t yet turned to follow. “Got him in my sights,” the artilleryman said.
Tolemek dropped the grenade into the barrel. There was no time to tamp it down the way a cannonball would have been. He waved away the man with the rammer. “Go, go, fire now.”
All he could do was hope that the igniting powder would fling it far enough—and that it might actually distract the dragon.
To his horror, Cas leaped out of her seat. Zirkander had straightened their flight so she could crawl along the wing toward the fire at one tip.
“Seven gods,” Cildark breathed. “She’ll fall off for sure.”
Tolemek couldn’t take his eyes away, not even to shoot the major a well-deserved glare.
The cannon boomed, and his grenade shot away. The dragon was already on the move, dipping down to chase Zirkander’s flier. Cas had reached the end of the wing and was batting at the flames with a cloth. The grenade arched through the sky, dropping near the dragon.
“Any time now,” Tolemek whispered, then realized the fuse might have gone out. Between the wind and rain, that seemed so likely that he groaned. A cannonball would have done more good.
Just as he’d given up, the grenade exploded. It wasn’t a huge explosion, not like one of Captain Kaika’s bombs, but smoke flooded the heavy air. The dragon was close, but not close enough to take the brunt of it in the eyes, as Tolemek had hoped. Would it bother him at all?
Morishtomaric pulled his wings in, diving for the flier. With Cas out on the wing, Zirkander couldn’t buck and gyrate the way he usually did. Cas looked up, then scrambled back for the seat well. She traded the cloth for the sword and stood in her seat, the blade raised, its green glow visible even through the hail.
“Sit down, Ahn,” Cildark growled.
But Cas remained on her feet, staring defiantly up at the dragon as it streaked toward them. Zirkander shouted something back to her, then turned, the flier tilting. She bent her knees and kept her balance, but the dragon looked like he would tear off the tail of their craft without ever getting close enough for her to hit.
Then Morishtomaric shook his head, his neck bending oddly. He had flown out of range of the smoke, smoke that was already dissipating in the wind, but maybe he had gotten some in his eyes, after all. His head shook again, and a strange noise reached Tolemek’s ears.
“Is that dragon sneezing?” Cildark asked.
In another situation, Tolemek would have laughed. All he could manage now was to be relieved that Morishtomaric’s inevitable descent was disrupted. Zirkander’s craft climbed back into the air as the dragon passed fifty meters behind it, sneezing. Duck’s flier swooped down, giving chase. Machine gun fire pounded the dragon—or more likely his magical shield. Tolemek kept hoping some of his bullets would slip through, but even while sneezing, Morishtomaric could protect himself. Soon, his wings flapped, and he was climbing again.
“Throw more grenades, Deathmaker,” the major said.
Tolemek snorted. “Is it easier to hit a sneezing dragon?”
“It might be.”
Tolemek did pull out a second grenade, but he had a hard time focusing on the fuse. Instead of chasing after Zirkander again, this time the dragon flew straight toward the airship.
• • • • •
“He’s focusing on the airship,” Ridge called back to Cas, hoping she heard him. The wind was screaming in his ears, the hail turning to snow. The snow made it harder to see, but it hurt less as it pummeled his head and shoulders, so he wouldn’t complain. “This might be our chance to get on his ass.”
He had been trying to circle around, to get behind the dragon so Cas could attack him, but Morishtomaric had taken the shots Ridge had fired in the courtyard personally. He had been too busy trying to get behind Ridge and shoot fire up his ass for them to do anything but evade and run.
“You have to get me close enough, sir,” Cas yelled back. Her mouth was only a foot behind his ear, but he could barely make out her words.
“You have the rope tied around your ankle, right?” He had been terrified he would lose her when she had scampered out on the wing to put out that fire.
“For the fifth time, yes.”
Morishtomaric shot a writhing orange stream of flames out of his mouth, his target the airship envelope. Ridge accelerated, trying to get there in time to stop him. Thus far, the dragon had ignored the airship, but he must not have liked whatever Tolemek had fired at him. Now, his talons stretched out, and they sank into the balloon, ripping and shredding.
Ridge pressed down on the triggers, firing relentlessly. He thought a couple of his bullets had struck the dragon down in the courtyard, before Morishtomaric had realized he was coming, but since then, they had all bounced away before reaching his scales. These did the same.
“Anyone got any ideas how to get it to stop clawing up Major Cildark’s balloon?” Ridge asked as he swept past. He eased off the machine guns, both because they had flown out of targeting range and because he did not want to waste any more of the special bullets. They needed to get the dragon’s shield down first.
“Kaika and I are coming in with a bomb,” came Duck’s voice over the crystal.
“I’m on Duck’s tail,” Pimples said, “for all the good it’s doing. I’ll try to shoot after the bomb goes off. Maybe it’ll distract him.”
“Do it,” Ridge said, wishing he could offer more. “Ahn,” he called over his shoulder, “I’m going to get you close enough to use that letter opener of yours.”
“Looking forward to it, sir.”
Duck reached the dragon, sailing past above him, his flier’s wings wobbling noticeably in the wind. Kaika leaned over the side and dropped one of her bombs. Ridge had circled around to face the dragon again, but he did not want to run into their explosion, so he weaved back and forth, waiting for his chance and cursing as Morishtomaric continued to rip into the balloon. The cannons and shell guns on the ship fired, but as usual, the projectiles bounced off. Ridge watched the bomb’s descent, hoping the explosive would do more damage.
It almost fell too far, tumbling past the dragon on the side farthest from the airship. But it exploded as it dipped below his legs, and for a moment, flames melted the snow from the air. Morishtomaric jerked away, his wings tucking into his body. He bumped the side of the airship, breaking a large portion of the railing.
Ridge lined himself up to shoot again, hoping that impenetrable shield might have disappeared. Pimples came in from another angle, doing the same. The orange light from the explosion had already died out, but smoke remained, and Ridge couldn’t tell if they struck anything. He banked so that he could circle around and come in again, this time to get Cas in close.
The dragon fell below the body of the airship, and Ridge allowed himself to hope Kaika might have done some real damage, but by the time he completed his circle so he could head back in, Morishtomaric was even with the envelope again, ripping into it with angry talons. He exhaled a great cloud of fire, the breadth even greater than before. Had they done nothing more than incense him?
On the airship, the cannons and big artillery guns roared, but the deck tilted sideways. That balloon could take a lot of bullets and hail, but if the side was completely torn open…
Ridge glanced down, hoping they were still near the fort, that the airship could land someplace safe if necessary. The wind had carried them out over the side of Goat Mountain, with glacier-scoured slopes, craggy canyons, and tall pines waiting below.
“Wonderful,” he muttered. At least the airship was sinking slowly. If it crashed, those on board had a good chance of walking away from it. Pilots rarely walked away from flier crashes. “Back off, Duck and Pimples. I’m taking Cas in for a poke.”
“Poke him good, Raptor,” Pimples yelled.
“Sir?” Duck said. “I know this isn’t the time to bother you, but we just took a hit. Lig
htning. I can’t—” His words broke off with curses.
Ridge craned his neck, trying to spot Duck’s flier. He was on the other side of the dragon, losing altitude fast as smoke billowed from his cockpit. The entire nose of his flier had been scorched and turned black. Kaika leaned forward, batting at the air in front of Duck with a scarf. Fire in the cockpit? That was all Ridge could guess before the dragon blocked his view.
“Get back to the outpost, Duck,” Ridge said. “While you still can. We’re on the dragon.”
He made himself focus on their enemy instead of worrying about his people. He flicked the ready sign over his shoulder for Cas.
“Going up on the wing, sir,” she yelled.
They had almost reached the dragon. Morishtomaric was taking his time, bathing the side of the airship in flames. Ridge fired again, though he was reluctant to waste more bullets when they weren’t piercing his enemy’s defenses.
Behind him, Cas stood in the seat, one hand on the wing and one holding the sword. A tether wrapped around her ankle would keep her from tumbling hundreds of feet to the ground if she fell, but he worried it wouldn’t protect her from other danger. Ridge flew straight at Morishtomaric, trying to make the ride as smooth as the wind and snow would allow.
Lightning flashed again overhead. Only in this forsaken place would snow and lightning go hand in hand.
Ridge took them right below the dragon’s belly. Morishtomaric wasn’t hovering—he didn’t know if that was possible—but the creature was swooping back and forth along the airship’s length, sticking close. Flames leaped from the balloon and from the side of the craft now too. Despite the best efforts from the soldiers on the deck, they weren’t able to keep the dragon away. Knowing Tolemek was on there, Ridge hoped for Cas’s sake that the craft found a safe landing spot.
As he came in under the dragon, Ridge took them up, trying to get close enough for Cas to reach the creature. As he did so, he watched those talons, aware that they could tear the wings off his flier with one swipe. Just getting hit by the tail could knock him out of the sky.
He didn’t have the right angle to shoot as he flew past under the dragon, so all he did was hold his breath and glance back at Cas. She had climbed onto the top wing. He gulped when she jumped upward, trying to strike Morishtomaric’s leg with the sword. The flier continued forward while she was in the air, and she came down somewhere behind the wing. Ridge couldn’t tell if she had struck the dragon or not; he was too busy wrenching his neck around, making sure she hadn’t fallen completely off the flier.
She straddled the fuselage, between the back of the wing and the tail. Her face was red, her expression furious, but she still held the sword. She yelled something, but he couldn’t hear it. He touched his ear, then focused forward again, guiding the flier away so he could swing around and they could try again.
It took Cas time to untangle herself and climb over the wing and back into the seat. Ridge banked, turning them for another run at the dragon, only to see the airship sinking toward the mountainside. Huge plumes of black smoke wafted upward, mingling with the ominous clouds above.
“Sir,” Cas yelled, “I couldn’t reach him. We have to get closer.”
“Closer? I was practically shaving that dragon’s belly with our propeller.”
Morishtomaric flapped his wings idly, watching the airship’s descent. Ridge was starting to wonder if all of their plans would come to naught, if the only way to defeat a gold dragon was with another gold dragon. As he flew back toward their seemingly indestructible foe, he looked toward the outpost, wondering if Sardelle had any advice.
She’s trying to save your colonel’s life, Jaxi said.
My colonel?
The one you shot.
Ah.
My advice would be—actually, let me give this to Cas, Jaxi said. Take her back in close. Closer.
Everybody wanted closer. Ridge sped toward the dragon, determined to do his best.
The snow was turning to sleet, and it beat at his goggles, needling his skin through his scarf. Even with gloves on, his hands felt so numb that he worried he would lose his touch when he needed it most.
He thought Morishtomaric might fly after the sinking airship, to help send it on its way, but the dragon must have decided the craft did not offer a further threat. Instead, he wheeled slowly, coming about to face Ridge and Cas.
“We’re going in,” Ridge yelled over his shoulder.
The dragon’s powerful wings beat the air, scattering snow as he sailed toward them.
“Ready, sir,” Cas called back.
Ridged wished he was.
• • • • •
Cas crouched on the wing, her hand curled around the edge, as Zirkander flew them toward the dragon. Anyone heavier would have punched right through the cloth, but she hunkered there like a statue, ignoring the wind, the sleet, and the terror that rode her as the inevitable clash approached. She glanced at the tether tied around her ankle, wondering if she should take it off, if she had to take it off to do as Jaxi suggested.
I didn’t suggest you turn suicidal, Jaxi spoke into her head again. Especially not now. Sardelle is fighting to keep the big brute alive down here, and we’re too far away for even me to levitate you if you fall.
Cas believed that. It had been a long time since she had glimpsed the outpost. The wind had blown them out over the mountains, and the sleet made it impossible to see more than a hundred meters.
She thought about responding to Jaxi, but the dragon was almost upon them, fury burning in its eyes. Fury and pain. Whatever Morishtomaric had come for, he seemed to have forgotten. They had hurt him, and he was enraged. She was sure a few of Tolemek’s bullets had made it through when Kaika had dropped that bomb, so they should be eating away at the creature’s hide even now. This was her chance to open him up to further damage, to lower his defenses permanently. Then she could make up for her shameful moment on the rooftop when, once again, she had failed to control Kasandral.
“Hang on,” Zirkander yelled back to her.
Not easy while gripping a sword. She risked sheathing it for a moment, so she could grip the edge of the wing with both hands and anchor one boot on the other side. She kept one foot beneath her, ready to spring.
Zirkander made it look like he was going to fly around the dragon, to avoid the beast’s deadly fire, but at the last moment, as Morishtomaric turned to track them, he went into a dive. Cas gulped, muscles straining as she struggled to hold on.
He leveled out quickly, surprising the dragon as he twisted to dip down and follow them. Zirkander came up again, and for a moment, Morishtomaric was heading straight down while their flier was heading straight up. They passed in parallel, with no more than ten feet between them. A small distance in an aerial battle, but a canyon for someone in a precarious perch. Cas did the only thing she could do if she wanted to hit her target. She sprang free from the wing, tearing the sword from its sheath.
The wind beat at her as if she were a leaf, but her powerful spring sent her toward the dragon’s belly as they were passing each other. Even so, she might have missed him if gravity hadn’t been on her side. Almost immediately, she fell downward as well as outward.
With the snow lashing sideways, she couldn’t see the ground and had no idea how high she was, but that might have been for the best. Already, such panic clutched her that she almost forgot what she was supposed to be doing.
Fearing she might reach the end of her tether before she touched the dragon, Cas slashed over her head, her movements more wild than calculating. She had no idea how far out the dragon’s invisible shield extended from his body. All she could do was hope it was like that of the sorceress’s around the Cofah airship and that she could lower it by striking it.
Even though she wanted to connect with it, when she actually did, the surprise and power of the moment struck her like a bolt of lightning. At first, she thought she had been struck by lightning. Power crackled around her, jolting her to the spine,
and a flash nearly blinded her. If not for a bubbling hum of pleasure that coursed up her arm from Kasandral, she wouldn’t have been certain she had encountered the dragon’s shield.
A second jolt racked her body, and she almost dropped Kasandral. This jolt came from her ankle, and fiery pain burst up her entire leg. The tether, she realized numbly, as she was dragged into the sky with such speed that it stole her breath. She forced herself to yell cogent words, though she only wanted to scream in pain.
“I got it,” she yelled, hoping Zirkander could hear her. “It’s down! Get him!”
She had no idea how long it would take before Morishtomaric could reestablish his shield, and she hoped he had been zapped even more fiercely than she. As she was dragged behind Zirkander’s flier, her shirt flew up around her armpits, and she lost her cap and goggles. Sleet beat at her face and her bare stomach. She could scarcely see, and only her senses told her they were turning, the centrifugal force tearing at her as the tether pulled her in the flier’s wake.
When she had envisioned herself doing this, she had imagined climbing back up the tether to the seat again as easily as a monkey, but between the wind and the speed and the force from the flier’s turns, it was all she could do not to let go of Kasandral. She feared she was going to be stuck back there until Zirkander landed—or this ended some other way. Could she even survive a landing?
“Worry about that later,” she muttered, the wind stealing her words from her lips. They had a dragon to defeat before she could think about her own safety.
Gunshots rang out, both from ahead of her and from behind. Confused, she twisted her neck in time to see a second flier streaking toward the dragon. Pimples, of course. He gaped at her as his machine guns cracked. She had a ludicrous thought that he might be gaping at her exposed torso and laughed. Was this what going mad felt like?