Or so she thought. Abruptly, one of the men with a chapaharii blade sprang from his seat behind the pilot. Was that Colonel Grady again? He leaped into the air and slashed at one of the silver dragons. He was close enough for his blade to strike its barrier, and judging by the distressed shriek that came from that direction, he was successful.
But Rysha’s stomach sank when Grady’s momentum shifted and he started to fall. He wasn’t over the platform. He would fall all the way to the city below and die for sure.
But he halted abruptly, swinging thirty feet below his flier. On a rope, she realized. He’d tied a rope around his ankle.
His pilot headed toward the platform as the other fliers up there turned on the silver dragon, firing from several sides to take advantage of their enemy’s defenses being down.
Stand still and fight, Shulina Arya growled at the gold male. You are too big and too gold to act like a scared antelope.
The male chuckled into their minds. When you have expended all of your energy, I will swoop in and attack, and knock that odious sword from your human’s hands.
Rysha might have responded with a snort, but she realized the chase had taken them past the breakwater and out over the open ocean. Had the gold intentionally led them out here? She could still see the battle and the weapons platform, but if she were to drop Dorfindral out here, the water would be deep, and retrieving it would be more of a challenge than in the harbor.
Not that she intended to drop it.
Shulina Arya, what if we play a game of our own? Let’s lead him to the army fort and make it easy for the artillery officers to shoot at him. Rysha would have suggested taking him to Trip’s platform, but she hadn’t seen it fire any weapons yet. Unfortunately, launching the structure may have been premature. She hoped it wouldn’t be damaged with all the fighting going on around it.
I do not think he will give chase. He is a coward. He—
A whistling sound reached Rysha’s ears, and she twisted to look back. The male spun in the air to face something streaking toward it at blistering speed. The dragon flapped his wings, trying to twist away, but the object struck his defenses.
Rysha thought that would be the end, that it would bounce off, but somehow, it went through his invisible barrier.
“Trip’s rockets,” she blurted.
The projectile clipped the leg of the moving dragon instead of hitting him in the side, and she feared that it wouldn’t do much damage. Then it exploded, a ball of fire erupting with ferocity that would have impressed even Jaxi.
Shulina Arya wasn’t content to watch. Seeing her foe distracted, she streaked toward the flames.
As they died out, she reached the male and poured flames of her own onto him. His defenses were still down, and he writhed and jerked in the sky.
Shulina Arya dodged a wing, and her long neck darted in. She sank her fangs into his flank.
The male screeched, and his tail whipped about. Once again, it came toward Rysha. She ducked and slashed upward as the tail passed over her head, almost laughing because she took the tip off again.
“Guess that’s going to be my signature move,” she muttered.
The male shook off Shulina Arya, but not without losing large chunks of flesh and scale from his side. As he dove away, Rysha noticed something viscous on his scales, the liquid—the acid—burning between the cracks.
He’s ours now, Shulina Arya cried, flying straight downward after the dragon and toward the ocean.
Rysha’s stomach grew queasy, but she held on, ready to hack at more than a tail.
The wind tore at her eyeballs as they descended, tearing her eyes even behind her spectacles. She almost missed the moment when the male drew up, talons dragging in the water as he attempted to evade Shulina Arya one more time.
No, more than that. He was hoping she would plummet into the water and that he could take advantage.
She pulled up, as he had, but sank slightly into the water, and that slowed her down.
The male spun and used his magic to defy gravity. A huge wave of power crashed against Shulina Arya, seeming to slam into the side of her head—or maybe tear into her mind—just ahead of his physical attack. Shulina Arya moaned in pain, the woeful sound echoing in Rysha’s mind, and flopped into the water.
Rysha didn’t realize exactly what had happened until his great maw snapped straight toward her.
She dropped to her stomach, the jaws barely missing her as they clacked together inches from her head. Shulina Arya’s mental defenses were down.
Rysha rolled onto her back, afraid she would roll right off Shulina Arya, and slashed upward with Dorfindral. The male yanked his head back, already preparing for another bite, and she only skimmed his chin.
“Damn it.” Rysha sprang to her feet.
Shulina Arya shifted her wings, trying to pull herself out of the water. The male’s head came in again, crimson eyes ablaze as they focused on Dorfindral. He meant to destroy that sword, those eyes said, or at least knock it halfway to Cofahre.
He lunged in, fangs glinting in the sun. Rysha waited until the last second, then sprang aside as she twisted enough to whip the sword backward. The dragon, jerking his head around to snap at her again, turned right into her attack. Dorfindral bit into his scaled snout.
He yelped and drew back, but not before the blade sank three inches in and drew blood.
Rysha came down on Shulina Arya’s back, the dragon’s scales slick with water. She slipped and slid off and into the ocean. She came up quickly, keeping an arm up with Dorfindral held aloft.
Though the male’s snout bled, his eyes remained aflame with intensity. He lunged in for another attack.
But Shulina Arya twisted abruptly and seemed to spring from the water, as if she’d leaped off a diving board. Her head intercepted the male’s, fangs flashing as she bit the side of his face.
A huge wave of water washed over Rysha, and something under the surface clawed her. She screamed in pain and backpedaled in the water, realizing it must have been one of their talons. Her thigh burned, but she kept Dorfindral ready and above the surface in case the male escaped Shulina Arya and came at her again.
Not that it would be easy to see that. The dragons splashed and created huge waves as they wrestled, half in the water and half in the air. Rivulets ran down Rysha’s spectacles, and the waves tugged at the strap holding them on.
Roars and screeches came from the writhing dragons, and she struggled to follow what was happening. The male had been injured—that acid ought to be eating into his scales even in the water—but he was also huge, one of the biggest she’d seen. Would he win by sheer weight and strength of limb?
A huge roar sounded over the surf, and a splash soaked Rysha’s face. A wave carried her upward, and she gaped at the empty ocean all around her. The dragons had both disappeared under the surface.
We are fully operational, Trip thought, projecting the words out for Tolemek and also Zirkander and Sardelle.
He’d been keeping track of Bhrava Saruth and Wolf Squadron as the dragon and the fliers battled near his weapons platform. Trip knew Zirkander hoped he would launch rockets into the enemy dragons and had intentionally led them in this direction. Trip had cringed since he had malfunctioning rocket launchers, and the dragons had stayed too far away for him to simply hurl the weapons with his hands and power. He hadn’t been able to get the first launcher working—it seemed to be missing a crucial part—but he’d run over to the next tower and, with a few tweaks, had gotten that one working.
He’d launched their first test rocket out to sea where Shulina Arya had been battling another gold. Though it had made his head pound, he’d used his power to guide that rocket, ensuring it would strike the enemy and not Shulina Arya and Rysha or another of their allies.
He’d hoped the explosion and the acid would combine to bring the dragon down immediately. It hadn’t, but it had weakened the gold and knocked down its mental defenses. He was tempted to send another rocket out, bu
t Shulina Arya was wrestling with the other dragon, and they had both disappeared below the surface. He hoped Rysha was all right.
Bhrava Saruth, Trip said, sharing the words with the dragon and also Sardelle, go out over the city and join Phelistoth in defending the castle, please. I’m going to fire more rockets, and their natural tendency is to hit the dragon closest to the platform.
His aching head made him wince at the idea of trying to control another one manually.
Sardelle was the one to respond. It’s a tight battle here. Are you sure you want to be without any ally dragons whatsoever? It would be just you and the fliers.
I know, but that means any dragons I aim at are enemies.
I’m letting Ridge know.
“Incoming,” Tolemek yelled from a tower where he was trying to finesse another of the launchers into working.
Trip spun, expecting a dragon, but a flier headed straight for the platform, black plumes of smoke coming from the engine. A soldier gripping a sword hung from a rope swaying back and forth in the air behind the craft. They were coming in too fast. The soldier would be battered senseless if the pilot landed with him dangling back there.
Trip did his best to push aside the throbbing in his head and focus on the soldier—he recognized Colonel Grady’s aura.
When you’re over the platform, cut the rope and let go of your sword, he told the colonel as the flier approached, coming in too quickly for a landing with the thrusters. The pilot—was that Duck?—wasn’t going to attempt a wheeled landing, was he? The platform was large, but not as long as a runway. He would never make it. Trust me, Trip added when Grady didn’t reply. I’ll bring you down easy.
When Grady was over the platform, he slashed the rope attached to his ankle, let go of the sword, and twisted in the air to drop feet-first toward the deck.
Stop the flier, please, Azarwrath, Trip thought as he gathered air under Grady and slowed his fall.
My power is weakened by all this tainted iron, but I’m trying.
Thank you.
As soon as Grady’s feet touched lightly down, Trip turned his attention to the flier. It came bumping and tottering to a stop in front of his tower.
Duck flopped back in the seat, blood running from a gash in his temple. He barely appeared conscious.
Trip jumped to the deck and ran toward him, also checking Grady for injuries. He was limping, his leg throbbing with pain, but he hurried to pick up his chapaharii sword again. He held the blade aloft, his face determined.
“Can you get us back in the air, Trip?” Duck asked, rolling out of the cockpit. His legs almost buckled when he landed.
Plumes of smoke came from the engine. It looked like a mess. Trip had faith that he could fix it, but…
“I don’t have time. Someone has to fire rockets at those dragons.” He waved toward the fliers buzzing past, diving and weaving, trying to simultaneously avoid attacks and bring their sword wielders close enough to cut down their enemies’ shields. “You’ll have to…”
Trip trailed off because one of the gold dragons was heading straight toward him, its maw wide open, flames roiling in the back of its throat.
“Take cover,” he barked to the others.
Trip strode toward the dragon, pulling out Azarwrath.
“Allow me.” Grady lifted a hand and stepped in front of him.
Trip didn’t want to hide behind anyone else, chapaharii blade or not, but he reluctantly acknowledged that he could more easily concentrate on his magic if Grady took the brunt of the attack. He raised a barrier to protect himself and as much of Duck’s flier as he could. Drawing upon his magic again made his headache shift from pounding pain to fierce stabbing pain, and Trip dropped to one knee, panting. Blackness crept into his vision.
Grady glanced over his shoulder at him, but the gold was almost upon them, so Trip waved him forward.
“What’s wrong?” Grady yelled as he crouched, fearless in the face of the flames.
Fire poured from the great creature’s maw as it flew at them, looking like it wanted to incinerate them and the flier. Duck scrambled under the craft to get out of the way. Trip’s barrier wavered under the dragon’s attack, and it felt as if a mallet slammed into the side of his head, but the fire didn’t get through, not to him and not to the flier.
Grady leaped, trying to slash through a dragon toe, or maybe just bring down its defenses, but the creature didn’t get close enough.
As it soared past over their heads, banking to come around for another attack, darkness flirted with Trip’s vision again. He pressed his knuckles to the deck. He couldn’t pass out, not now. His comrades—his friends—needed him. Rysha might need him.
This rocket launcher also needs work, Tolemek sighed into Trip’s mind.
Of course it does. Use the one I was just at. It’s working.
With the dragon out of reach for the moment, Grady spun and touched Trip’s shoulder. “Captain?”
“It’s the ore I infused into the weapons platform. It resists magic and makes it very unpleasant for those with dragon blood to be around.” Trip winced. “Painfully so.”
He pushed himself to his feet, his hand on the flier for support, and faced the opposite direction. The dragon had turned and was picking up speed, coming in for another attack.
Nearby, Tolemek raced up the ladder to the working tower, the one Trip had used earlier. He loaded a rocket, but it wouldn’t be ready to fire in time. The dragon arrowed toward Trip again, its maw gaping open.
Once again, Grady ran in front of him, to the nose of the flier. Duck still crouched under it, his eyes glassy—he looked like he could collapse at any moment. Trip wished he could spare a moment to heal him, but he put all his power into shielding them again, fearing Azarwrath’s weakened help would not be enough.
This time, as the dragon unleashed its fire, Grady drew back his arm and threw his chapaharii sword. Startled, Trip envisioned him being incinerated and hurried to extend his barrier around him. But Grady hurled himself to the side, rolling under the flier for protection as flames bathed the deck and struck Trip’s defenses.
He sensed the tiny pop as the blade pierced the dragon’s barrier, and the magic disappeared.
Knowing he had to take advantage, Trip summoned all the power he could muster and flung it, targeting the dragon’s mind. He imagined talons raking through the creature’s brain, doing damage, making it want to flee out to the ocean and never return.
A screech of anger and pain slammed into his mind so hard that it threw Trip from his feet. The deck quaked under his back, and for a confused moment, he thought something had happened to the platform, that it was in danger of crashing.
But the dragon had slammed into the base of one of the towers.
Grady snatched his fallen sword from the deck and raced toward their enemy. The dragon struggled to rise, to get its defenses up. Trip blasted it with what little energy he had left. The creature shook its head, as if the attack didn’t bother it, but it still didn’t rise. Couldn’t rise. Trip realized the tainted ore was affecting it, just as it affected him, making the dragon weaker.
Grady ran right up to its side and plunged the sword between its scales.
A shadow fell across the platform, a silver dragon streaking in. Two fliers fired at its tail, but the creature had its barrier up. Icy gray eyes focused on Grady as it flew down to help its comrade.
Trip rolled to his knees, trying to think of something to do, but he couldn’t stand much less fight.
Then a soft thwack came from the side. Tolemek firing a rocket.
It blasted straight toward the incoming silver, sliced through its barrier, and struck it in the side. An explosion ripped through the air, smoke and flames filling the sky, and the deck quaked again.
Trip lifted an arm, shielding his eyes. Something spattered against the deck. Blood?
“Ugh,” he groaned and climbed slowly to his feet, still using the flier for support, still fighting to remain conscious.
/> Scratches like nails on a chalkboard sounded. The injured gold dragon lumbered out of the smoke. Trip lifted Azarwrath as it came toward him. Fortunately, the soulblade had more strength left than he had. Red lightning streaked out, slamming into the dragon’s scales. The creature’s barrier was still down, and another screech hammered Trip’s ears.
Belatedly, he realized the dragon wasn’t coming for him. It charged past him, blood streaming from a dozen gashes on its side. Grady pounded after it, taking a chunk out of its tail before the dragon stretched the lead and leaped over the railing and off the end of the platform.
Grady skidded to a halt, gripping the railing with his free hand. The gold dragon flapped away, but its wingbeats seemed feeble, its body bobbing and wobbling like a drunken bumblebee. It flew north along the coast and away from the city.
Trip hoped that meant it was out of the fight. He turned to find the corpse of the silver dragon sprawled on the deck and grimaced at the mess his rocket had made. At least it had worked. With luck, the other dragons would see this and realize it was far better to avoid the weapons platform now. And the city and people it protected.
We are fully operational, he told Zirkander again, looking to the sky where the fliers swooped about, dancing with the remaining two dragons.
I saw, Zirkander replied. Thank you, Trip. Also, feel free to shoot these last two. If you can get their defenses down, we’ll handle the rest.
Working on it, sir.
Trip started toward the tower, staggering as he left the support of the flier, but then remembered Duck and paused. He needed help.
Tolemek, can you handle firing rockets at the remaining dragons?
“Stay,” Grady said, jogging up, then passing him on the way to the tower. “I’ll help him.”
“Yes, sir,” Trip said.
He knelt beside Duck, but Duck waved him away. “Get the flier working and in the air. My ouchies can wait until after the fighting’s done.”
“Ouchies, Captain? That’s not a very manly word.”
Despite Duck’s attempt to push him away, Trip checked his wounds.