Chapter 16 #2
“Yes.” Not sure how much her archaeology education had included on flora and fauna—especially ill-tempered mutated-by-magic fauna—Syla added, “The storm god supposedly bred them from bats, ostriches, parrots, lions, and a bunch of other things. Seeing where they fly sometimes lets you predict when a storm is coming in. Unlike most animals, they go toward dense black clouds because they’re hoping to be struck by lightning.
They’ll fly up in them, tails swishing so that it looks from below like they’re hitting them, though clouds, of course, aren’t dense enough to hit.
The lightning strikes energize them, making them glow yellow for a bit, and then they’re twice as deadly when they attack prey. ”
“Prey or humans.” Fel sounded more grim than curious. He might have encountered cloud strikers before when he’d been in the Fleet. The sky shields kept them away from the islands, the same as dragons and wyverns, but the Sea of Storms was understandably a favorite place for them.
They fear dragons, Wreylith announced. As all creatures that aren’t rabid or otherwise deranged do. They will not attack while you remain with us.
“We’re lucky to have you with us,” Syla said.
You are. I am occasionally salivating as I remind myself of all the delicious livestock you have promised to give to me in exchange for my assistance here.
“We’ll finish as quickly as possible so I can get that for you.” Syla didn’t need the reminder to remember that Wreylith wasn’t helping out of the goodness of her heart. “Did you promise to share with Igliana?”
Or would Syla have to come up with a separate reward for the orange dragon’s assistance?
She is young and unwise in the ways of the world, so she is honored to fly with me to learn about wild dragons and how we are superior to the domesticated creatures she has been raised by.
“So, she’s not getting even one horn hog?”
Igliana looked over, her eyes curious and hopeful.
Perhaps a small one.
Igliana sashayed, her back tilting enough that Syla was surprised Fel and Teyla didn’t have to flatten themselves and clench everything to stay on.
They did lean forward, hands splayed on the dragon’s scales, but they didn’t appear too alarmed.
It was possible Teyla, who was moon-marked herself, had figured out how to use her magical gift to stay on, but Fel…
Fel had only his balance and muscles to rely upon.
I believe what you call the Ingris River is perhaps fifty of your miles to the south. Wreylith was already soaring in that direction. We will take you there.
“Thank you,” Syla said.
Large birds flew up from trees along a white-sand beach.
A type of vulture, Syla thought, awed by their size.
One standing on its feet before her would have been level with her chest, at least. There didn’t seem to be any small creatures here.
With huge, sharp beaks clacking, the birds didn’t look much less dangerous than the cloud strikers.
As the dragons skimmed over the trees, an insect the size of Syla’s fist buzzed past her head, making her flinch.
She glimpsed a stinger as long as her pinky finger and was glad it hadn’t struck her.
The first-aid kit she’d packed held numerous tinctures and ointments, but she would prefer not to test their efficacy against the insects, snakes, basilisks, and other venomous things known to live in the area.
I’ve sensed the other two dragons a number of times. One of Wreylith’s eyes rotated inland toward some spot between the coast and the distant mountains. And twice seen them miles away.
With far less keen eyes, Syla hadn’t seen them. “I’m surprised we haven’t heard them. Agrevlari, anyway.”
Wreylith growled.
Igliana was close enough to listen in and swished her tail and made a clucking noise. Dragon laughter?
“Didn’t you enjoy his singing?” Syla asked.
I told him that if he made such caterwauling noises in my presence again, I would tie his tongue in a knot so that he wouldn’t be able to breathe fire ever again. Or breathe at all.
“He’s trying hard to earn your regard.”
A male must prove himself worthy to stir the libido of a powerful female dragon. Not by caterwauling.
Syla didn’t point out that a lot of people—and other beings—had to prove themselves worthy to Wreylith. “Like in battle? He did nobly leap in and keep that big black dragon from attacking you.”
I could have handled Ozlemar. We’ve fought before and mated long ago, before he grew so sour and grumpy. No female wants a dragon with such a disposition in her nest.
Syla blinked. “You mated with General Jhiton’s dragon?”
Long ago. He was more appealing in his youth.
Syla didn’t know what to say to the new information. She supposed it wouldn’t affect her and her mission. It didn’t sound like Wreylith had feelings for the dragon, such that she might be tempted to turn Syla over to the stormers if he asked.
Back then, he wasn’t lowering himself to let humans ride him, Wreylith said with her usual disdain for the idea, not acknowledging that she, at that very moment, had a human on her back.
Not wanting to risk irking her and being abandoned on this wild continent, Syla didn’t point that out.
For all of his life, he was a wild dragon, distrusting of humans and far more inclined to destroy their settlements than work with them.
Wreylith didn’t sound approving of the idea, not exactly, but Syla got the impression she was more likely to respect a dragon like that than one who allied with humans.
“What made him decide to align with the stormers? General Jhiton specifically? Do you know?” It hadn’t occurred to Syla that Wreylith might be a resource on the stormers, or at least the stormer dragons.
How the information might be helpful, she didn’t yet know, but once she completed this quest, she had little doubt that her people would have to battle the stormers to drive them off Harvest Island and reclaim it.
Every tidbit of intelligence that she could gather might later be useful.
I do not know. The stormer officer must have proven himself worthy.
Syla snorted. Of course.
Maybe he drew a basilisk fang from Ozlemar’s foot, Wreylith added dryly.
“I know that’s what’s endeared you to me and made you eager to assist me.”
It didn’t unendear me.
“I’ll bet the salve delighted you too.”
It tingled pleasantly while soothing the ache. Of course, dragons are extremely stoic and do not need soothing. Especially not by humans. They can endure any pain and grow stronger for it.
“Oh, I assumed so.”
That earned her a baleful eye rotating back in her direction.
“I brought some of that salve along. Just in case we run into basilisks foolish enough to bite dragons.”
Good. Wreylith’s eyes turned back forward, a wide waterway emptying into the sea visible ahead. Igliana may need it. The young are never stoic.
When they reached the mouth of the river, sandbars visible where it flowed into the sea, the dragons turned inland to follow it upstream.
Unlike smaller streams they’d passed, the waterway was wide enough that the branches of the trees couldn’t stretch across it, so they could easily trace its route.
The branches did obscure everything along its banks from above, and as they soared inland, Syla realized they would never spot the remains of human civilizations from the air.
They wouldn’t spot anything. Hoots, screeches, chirps, and roars promised a great deal of wildlife inhabited the area near the riverbanks, but unless something flew out of the trees and over the water, they couldn’t see any of it.
Further, it had to be the season for flooding, because the river stretched far beyond its banks and into trees that grew densely together, vines and foliage making it impossible to see far.
“Can you fly lower so that we can look into the trees on either side? Or even swim up the river with us on your backs?” Syla had no idea if dragons were like horses that could ford a waterway with their riders still astride.
She knew their kind fished, capturing everything from octopi to walruses to nosh on, but hadn’t heard of them cruising for miles in the water.
Their bodies didn’t seem designed for that.
Wreylith growled. Dragons are not boats for humans to float upon.
“Sorry.” Syla didn’t know what the rules were—was flying with a rider on one’s back less ignoble than swimming in a similar vein?
Wreylith angled lower so that she skimmed closer above the water but added, Dragons are also not porpoises that would swim around with humans clinging to their backs, nor do we, other than for fishing purposes, flit around in the water.
Perhaps oblivious to the words, Igliana dove into the water with a splash and swam about like an otter, looking quite pleased to cool off in the river. Teyla wrapped her arms around her pack, trying to keep it dry from the water droplets flying up.
Wreylith growled again. It might have been a grumble, accompanied by thoughts of the immaturity of youth.
Fish in those waters have fangs sharp enough to pierce dragon scales, and they are dumb enough to attack our kind.
Giant piranhas, hurricane eels, and freshwater megalodons are especially tedious.
Syla thought the comment for her but Igliana replied. I am not so young and poorly traveled that I am not aware of the dangers of the great rainforest rivers. I am merely cooling my belly after a long flight. I have also been expending my magic to keep my riders from falling off.
Riders should be capable of holding on of their own accord without needing you to magically strap them on, as if you were one of their beasts of burden.
Syla hadn’t known a dragon could magically strap a human rider onto its back. Since she’d figured out her own method, she wouldn’t ask Wreylith about doing that in the future. She could already guess how warm the response would be.
Igliana screeched and flew abruptly out of the water.