Chapter 10
In the dark of night, the dragons and their riders flew across the Sea of Storms. As the squadron neared Dark Dagger Point and the cave overlooking the water that the Sixteen Talons were currently sharing with the Moonhunt Tribe, Vorik and Jhiton requested that their dragons fly ahead to drive away wyverns circling above the cliff.
Male and female archers on the ledge of the cave were firing at them, but the fast aerial predators could evade arrows by flying inland or spinning and darting about in the air.
Wyverns often followed human foraging parties in the wilds, hoping to capture a lone person who wandered too far from the group, but to appear over a cave full of strong warriors—not to mention their dragon allies—was unusual.
They’ve grown too brazen, Jhiton said telepathically.
Hunger drives them, Agrevlari replied.
Perhaps, but fury filled Vorik at the presumptuousness of the scavengers.
Though his people were always careful—they had to be to survive—more than one wyvern had successfully stolen away a baby or small child in the past. The idea of one snatching up a toddler that came near the ledge made him lift his bow and start firing before they were in range.
Despite the distance, one of his arrows clipped a wyvern on the wing. It screeched, warning others of the approaching threat.
Agrevlari’s powerful wings beat rapidly as he closed the distance between the squadron and the scavengers.
At his side, Ozlemar matched his pace, their past grievances forgotten, or at least set aside as they focused on the threat.
Jhiton joined Vorik in firing, the wood-shafted arrows they commonly used for hunting doing little good on the magical creatures but the more precious and harder-to-come-by gargoyle-bone arrows driving through scale and into flesh.
More screeches filled the sky, and the wyverns flew inland, over the cliff to try to escape. Neither Jhiton nor Vorik relented, and the rest of the squadron shouted from behind, hurrying to catch up.
Perhaps bolstered by the sound of the dragons returning and driving away enemies, more men and women with bows stepped out onto the ledge of the cave.
One loosed an arrow at a wyvern that had made the mistake of flying parallel to the coast instead of inland.
The projectile took it in the shoulder, and the creature careened off the rock face.
Meanwhile, the dragons, with their larger wings and greater musculature, caught up with the retreating wyverns. Vorik slung his bow over his back and drew his sword for close-range fighting.
Agrevlari caught up with a yellow-scaled beast that dove and flew low over the ground, darting between rock formations in an attempt to elude the larger dragon.
It didn’t work. For all his grousing and griping, Agrevlari was agile and powerful.
He caught up and bit the wyvern on the back above its tail.
Vorik leaned over as the creature reared in the air, snapping its jaws defensively at the dragon.
Vorik drove his blade into the wyvern’s long neck.
With a much greater snap, Agrevlari caught it on the spine and crushed vertebrae.
The beast clipped a rock formation and tumbled to the ground, its back broken.
Vorik and Agrevlari flew higher to seek more enemies, but the rest of the squadron had killed the remaining wyverns.
Though disappointed that the battle hadn’t been longer and he hadn’t been able to vanquish more enemies, Vorik was relieved when Agrevlari banked and turned toward the cave.
After the long day, Vorik looked forward to a night’s rest.
A lone female warrior with a bow and a sword stood atop the cliff, having climbed up from the cave. Even in the dark, Vorik recognized Captain Lesva and grimaced.
After their battle on Harvest Island, during which he and a precisely timed lightning bolt had sent her plummeting a hundred feet into the ocean, she’d returned injured and, with the help of her dragon magic, had spent days in a healing trance, a gift she had that many envied.
Because of that, they hadn’t spoken since that night.
Vorik would prefer not to talk to her this night either, but she watched him and Jhiton as they flew toward the cave.
Something told him he wouldn’t avoid a conversation with her.
Their dragons flew over the ledge, dove, and twisted to enter the wide mouth of the cave, alighting near the front. Cheers went up, especially from the women and children, many of whom waved apples or other treats the riders had been bringing back from their foraging on Harvest Island.
No, not foraging, Vorik corrected. His people were taking crops that the gardeners had planted and tended through the year.
As happy as it made him to see previously hungry people smiling with food in their hands, this war didn’t sit well with him.
Maybe because he’d gotten to know a certain gardener woman…
Vorik sighed as Agrevlari landed, then slid off and started toward Jhiton, hoping to be dismissed for the night so that he could rest, but Devron had already jumped down and was showing the general something. The scrolls he’d taken.
“Good evening, Captain Vorik.” Geahi, a slender woman in her twenties, smiled and stepped into his path.
She had warm gray eyes and always greeted him when he returned from a hunt.
“Do you have a moment? Leonodor and I would love to thank you for your work of late.” A few minutes ago, she’d been on the ledge with a bow, but now she carried a toddler, who appeared more interested in sleeping and drooling than displaying gratitude.
Vorik looked wistfully at the kid, wanting to sleep and drool a little himself. Behind him, the dragons left the cave to find perches in the rocks above. Their kind didn’t usually live with humans but, if they knew another mission was coming, would stay close.
“The fruit and vegetables from the gardener island are so wonderful,” Geahi said. “We’re enjoying them immensely.”
“I’m glad, but I’m not the one bringing them back. You don’t need to thank me.” Vorik touched his chest and smiled when the toddler yawned and dug his fingers into his mother’s hair. “In fact, Hohan is on the gathering team, isn’t he?”
That was the brother of the husband that she’d lost. The man had been trying to nobly step in to wed her, and everyone thought it would be a good match for a mother with a son to care for.
Of course, Geahi didn’t feel that way, and she eased forward, shifting the boy so she could rest a hand on Vorik’s chest.
“From the stories that are being told, you were paramount in the sky shield dropping so that our people can forage there.”
Vorik shook his head. He hadn’t been paramount in much of anything except losing that shielder during the battle over the whaling ship, and he didn’t deserve credit for the harvest his people were now enjoying.
“The general wants you, I see.” Geahi tilted her head toward Jhiton, who was holding the scrolls open but also looking at Vorik.
Thoughtfully at Vorik? Wrath of the storm god, what was he planning now?
“Come to my furs later if you wish, and I’ll show you my gratitude completely.
A full stomach is an aphrodisiac, you know, and Leonodor sleeps the whole night through these days. ” She winked at Vorik.
“Thank you for the invitation, Geahi,” Vorik said. “I think my brother is scheming his next mission for me, but I appreciate your offer and will keep it in mind.”
Disappointment entered her eyes as she interpreted his words as a rejection.
Vorik bowed apologetically toward her but walked away without looking back.
Whether it was wise or not, he’d, of late, had another woman on his mind.
The memory of Syla looking suspiciously at him as he suggested how she might relax her eyes—and her body—flitted through his thoughts.
She’d been understandably suspicious throughout their entire chat, but he hadn’t minded.
He’d enjoyed spending even that brief time with her.
His only regret was that he hadn’t gotten to leave with the cylindrical boxes of sugary desserts.
He imagined sharing a cobbler or other sweet with Syla, the taste of sugar on their lips as they kissed.
Jhiton looked up at his approach, his face grim.
Vorik wiped away whatever goofy—or lusty—expression had been on his face.
Jhiton and Devron weren’t looking at the scrolls, though Vorik knew his brother had no trouble reading the Kingdom language.
He’d always been a far better student than Vorik, who’d preferred hunting and playing outside to squinting at letters and numbers that his people never used in their lives.
“I’m telling you, sir,” Devron said, “she’s a lot more than a healer.”
Vorik’s ears perked as he realized they were discussing Syla. Since Devron had been in the chamber before he and Jhiton arrived, he may have interacted with her. Judging by the way he rubbed his throat, that interaction hadn’t been pleasurable.
Vorik raised his eyebrows. He had a hard time imagining Syla getting the best of a trained stormer in a battle. She didn’t even carry a weapon.
“What more?” Jhiton asked the man, though his gaze remained on Vorik, as if he expected him to know.
“She almost… I mean, I’m sure my strength and stamina would have protected me from…” Devron also looked at Vorik. “She couldn’t have killed me with her magic, could she?”
Vorik shook his head. “She’s a healer, not a killer. How would you even kill someone with magic?”