12. Falcor. #2
I nod, anxiety twisting my gut. Freddy throws a giant hand over my shoulders and squeezes my neck reassuringly.
It takes us hours to follow Falcor’s usual flight path, and it’s only at sunset that we finally find the dragon.
Her carcass lies at the foot of a tall volcano lazily spitting out lava.
She fell on the igneous rock, and judging by the smell, she expired weeks ago.
Her body bloated under the sun and must have exploded at some point, making it hard to understand the cause of death.
Jayce orders anchoring, and I follow him down the rope ladder. The lava has cooled down enough for us to walk on the rock, but Freddy still uses a cane to poke the ground and make sure we’re not stepping on something still hot enough to melt our shoes.
Upon closer inspection, I realize Falcor’s right wing is missing. Something tore it from her back, and a darkened residue covers the bone.
“I think she flew in the eruption’s path,” I say, frowning. “The explosion must have ripped her wing off, and she fell to her death.”
Jayce hums thoughtfully. “Do you think her liquid-fire pouch survived the fall and the decay?”
I sigh. “There’s only one way to know.”
I don’t feel like rummaging through a pile of rotting dragon organs, but what other choice do I have? It’s my job.
Freddy lowers the crate with our tools with a rope, and I get a hold of dragonhide gloves that go past my elbows.
I cover my face with a scarf to stave off the smell and come closer.
Falcor was an enormous dragon with green scales, and now she’s reduced to a pile of bones and gore.
She chose a risky territory to have her lair on and eventually paid the price.
Dragons don’t suffer from the heat, but even they can’t survive such a powerful impact.
There are no happy endings for dragons. They have no age limit, from what we know, and can live for centuries if left unchecked. Death only comes from tragedies, such as a violent fight or a volcanic eruption. Most die before they can reach a hundred years. Falcor was ninety-eight.
I use huge pliers to look through her organs and find the liquid-fire pouch. Jayce and Freddy help me with their own tools. Our boots squish in her congealed blood, dripping on the rock.
“There!” I say, pointing to the organ. “I think it’s intact.”
“Good job,” Jayce says.
We bury the extractor inside the pouch and start pumping, sucking the golden liquid into bottles. Lucky for us, it never decays—unlike the rest of the dragon. It’s all we’ll be able to scavenge from such an old carcass.
My eyes are on my work, so I only realize the threat once the crew has warned us from the Blunder .
They shout, their voices tinged with urgency, and when I look up I notice the giant airship appearing through the ashy sky of the Burning Coast, coming from the sea.
The three enormous hot-air balloons cleave the wall of smoke from the active volcano.
The Dragons’ Bane has come for us.
Her crew shoots giant harpoons that bury themselves in the surrounding ground, and two pierce the Blunder ’s hull with a resounding crack of splintered wood.
“Motherfuckers,” Jayce says, getting a hold of me.
We scramble away from the rotting carcass and behind a thick layer of igneous rock just as the crew of the Dragons’ Bane lowers their ladders.
We’re under attack, I realize with a sudden clarity, adrenaline surging through my body.
Alara shouts from above, and a crate lands heavily on the ground. Freddy and the captain get a hold of their weapons just as I throw away my bloody gloves.
Someone fires colorful flares from the Blunder , and in seconds, blue and red smoke envelops us, obscuring everything. Both airships disappear, and we can barely see our feet.
I stumble. “What the—?”
“An old pirate trick,” Jayce says. “If you’re outnumbered, make sure the enemy can’t see you. Stay close to me.”
I cringe as shots are fired in the smoke and above our heads.
By some miracle, Freddy doesn’t lead us astray, and we reach the hull of the Blunder .
But, as we’re about to climb the rope ladder, two men attack us.
Jayce and Freddy don’t even use their guns.
Freddy punches the first attacker so hard in the face, his entire body snaps back and he falls on the sand, blood gushing from the place where his nose used to be.
Jayce pulls out a long knife from his belt and buries it in the second man’s neck.
His victim tries to get a hold of me before dying, but Jayce pulls me to his chest and out of reach.
“You’re fine,” Jayce whispers in my ear before pushing me toward the rope ladder. “Climb.”
I don’t need to be asked twice. I’ve never climbed so fast, uncaring about the height.
As I reach the top, a gunshot echoes in the red smoke over the upper deck.
A woman who must have boarded from the Dragons’ Bane sees me and aims her pistol at me.
Wilbur appears out of nowhere, like a demon rising from hell, and bashes her head in with a long wrench.
She falls overboard and down onto the rocks below.
I mumble a ‘ thank you ’ as he hoists me on the deck.
Jayce goes up next, followed by Freddy. They clear out the upper deck and cut the lines from where the enemies are launching themselves onto the Blunder .
“Wilbur, can you rid us of the harpoons?” Jayce says.
“Yes,” the inventor answers, out of breath.
“Then do it. I’ll get the Spitfire. Kuroki, get ready to maneuver.”
Both men disappear below decks.
I find myself standing in the middle of the upper deck, confused about my role. There’s blood on the floor.
Alara walks up to me and offers me a pistol. “Do you know how to use it?”
Surprisingly, I do. My adoptive father taught me to shoot when I was seventeen, when I accompanied him on a journey south. He wanted to be sure I could defend myself if we encountered trouble.
“Ye—yes,” I say.
Alara smiles. “Good. Eyes open, dragoner, and don’t miss.”
More ropes land on the upper deck, and attackers risk the drop to board the Blunder . They want to take the airship without damaging the precious cargo. One wrong shot, and our stocks of liquid-fire could make us go all up in flames.
A man lands heavily in front of me, his enormous frame visible even through a cloud of blue smoke, and I don’t hesitate.
I’m a fire scrounger, too. If it’s them or us, I’m going to make sure it’s them.
I cock the pistol and aim. The bullet takes him in the temple, and he falls dead on the deck. My ears ring, and my hand is numb.
I look up at the rope, waiting for my next target. I just killed a man, but I’ll process that information later. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins, and I can’t let my focus slip.
I shoot at another target seconds later—a man or a woman, I’ll never know—and they dodge too far in panic and fall overboard.
Captain Ulric Vanner must be an asshole indeed to waste so many lives to take us down.
There’s a great noise from below decks, like wood breaking, and the Blunder sways. I lose my footing for a heartbeat. I think Wilbur managed to get rid of a harpoon.
Above our heads, a man lands on the hot-air balloon before falling onto the deck and breaking his legs. His howls echo in the chaos. Freddy doesn’t hesitate to grab him and throw him overboard to his death.
I wince, but must admit, I feel no pity for our attackers.
There is another great noise, as Wilbur must have gotten rid of the second harpoon. Freddy cuts the ropes anchoring us to the desert with his cutlass, and the Blunder rises through the clearing smoke.
The wind reveals the Dragons’ Bane floating above us just as Jayce appears on the upper deck, the Spitfire over his shoulder.
“Eat this, motherfuckers,” he says before firing the liquid-fire ammunition.
It explodes on the biggest hot-air balloon carrying the Dragons’ Bane , and the blast pushes the Blunder with such force, I’m afraid we’re all going to die. I fall on the deck hard, and my back hits the bulwark.
Seconds later, Jayce grabs me by the waist to put me back on my feet. He drops a hand on my cheek, eyes searching. “You okay?”
I nod jerkily. “I think so, yes…”
The explosion has cleared the smoke from the flares, and we have a prime view of the Dragons’ Bane crashing down on the active volcano.