Chapter 29 #2
She swore and flattened herself to Wreylith’s back, hoping their quarrels would fly over her.
“Assassins!” someone cried from the rooftop of a residential building with a view of them.
Only one of the men got a crossbow quarrel off before Wreylith flapped her powerful wings and sped toward them, her jaws parting. Terror widened their eyes, and they turned to run for the edge of the building. But Wreylith roared, smoke rose from her nostrils, and fire boiled up from within her.
Don’t kill them, please, Syla said. They’re…
They were what? Kingdom subjects? Yes, but they were trying to kill her.
Fire blasted onto the rooftop, a huge wave of it that engulfed both men before they could leap off. They screamed, but the fire was so hot and intense that it charred them to death within seconds.
Stomach twisting, Syla looked away. She would have preferred capturing them and trying to talk them into switching sides, but… she supposed she’d known that wasn’t how a dragon handled enemies.
“Is this still a good plan?” she whispered, catching Fel gawking toward the flaming rooftop.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
None shall harm Queen Syla while the great dragon Wreylith is near. The booming telepathic voice went out to everyone in the area, and people gasped and stared, as if they hadn’t known dragons could speak in any way.
Syla admitted her own knowledge of them had been limited before all this had started.
Queen Syla is the rightful heir of your throne, and I am here to defend her. Before, Wreylith had been heading toward the castle, but she took another lap of the city, her powerful wingbeats carrying her about, an impressive display to those below.
At first, in the aftermath of the men’s deaths, there was silence, but then the chant started up again. “Queen Syla! Queen Syla!”
“She who tamed a dragon!”
Are all your people so vapid? Wreylith grumbled into Syla’s mind.
No. Let’s go to the castle, please. Better to arrive before those who oppose my rule have time to react and come up with a plan.
Agreed. Wreylith flew swiftly to the bluff and over the walls of the courtyard.
Though most of the uniformed men remained, all staring at her, nobody lit a cannon or fired a crossbow.
When the dragon’s glowing golden-eyed gaze skimmed over them, several men lifted their hands and stepped away from their weapons.
Syla didn’t know if they’d been able to see the burning of the assassins below, but they must have gotten the gist.
As Wreylith landed in the courtyard, Syla spotted the white-haired General Dolok walking out with two armed officers at his side. His familiar scowl marked his face.
Though Syla would have preferred to avoid him, she slid off, straightened her back, lifted her chin, and strode forward.
Fel grunted, his knee threatening to buckle when he jumped off, but he caught up with Syla by the time she stood before Dolok.
He stopped at her side and looked sternly at the general and his men.
“Good morning, General Dolok,” Syla said, hurrying to speak before he did.
“I thank you for guarding the castle and overseeing the military and island while I was away.” She assumed he’d done those things, even if it had been while he was maneuvering to claim the throne.
“During my journey, I gathered intelligence and allies, and I’m eager to tell you more about everything so that you may prepare the military for what lies ahead.
I am also ready for my coronation as queen. ”
She lifted her chin.
Dolok sputtered at her audacity. “You’re not being coronated for anything except queen of the dungeon. You—
Make way in the courtyard, Wreylith boomed, looking toward the sky.
Dolok followed her gaze. Every soldier in the courtyard and on the walls did.
Directly above them, flying just over the translucent barrier, four dragons flapped their wings, maneuvering in a tight circle. They were carrying something large and white. It looked heavy. It was—
“The weapons platform,” Syla blurted, gaping.
Make way in the courtyard lest you be crushed, Wreylith clarified.
“They’re not going to drop it, are they?” Syla lifted a hand, though it wasn’t as if she could do anything to stop the dragons. “That’s a priceless powerful artifact, not a haunch of meat.”
As soldiers scattered, Fel gripped Syla’s shoulder and pulled her to the courtyard wall.
At first, General Dolok wore a defiant expression and didn’t move, and she imagined him being crushed.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he realized the threat just before the dragons dropped the marble platform, and he backed away.
Sparks flew from the barrier as it passed through, but it didn’t keep the ancient artifact from descending. Since it had been made by the same gods who’d created the shielders, maybe that made sense.
Syla winced as the weapons platform whistled toward the center of the courtyard, imagining it shattering into a thousand pieces.
But it was the flagstones underneath it that shattered, shards flying as the platform crashed down.
Surprisingly, it landed and stayed upright, just as it had been in the laboratory.
You are welcome, Wreylith said smugly into Syla’s mind as the four dragons flew away.
I… thank you for arranging that.
Yes. And you will arrange my horn hogs and sheep soon.
I should be able to, yes. You deserve all that I promised and more.
Clearly.
“What is it?” General Dolok stared.
“A powerful weapons platform created by the gods themselves. It is capable of slaying dragons but responds only to one who is moon-marked and destined to protect her people.” Syla held up her hand, the birthmark glowing cheerfully to emphasize her words.
His jaw sagged open. For the first time that she’d observed, Dolok was speechless.
Chants of, “Queen Syla! Queen Syla!” drifted up from the city below.
“We’d best arrange my coronation soon,” Syla said. “The people demand it.”
A long moment passed as Dolok looked toward an open doorway in the keep where someone lurked in the shadows. Cousin Relvin. And was that another man behind him? Syla didn’t recognize him. Dolok’s and Relvin’s gazes held for a moment.
Wreylith growled deep in her throat, and a single tendril of smoke wafted from one of her nostrils.
Dolok swallowed, returned his focus to Syla, and bowed stiffly. “We’ll start the preparations, Your Highness.”
After a long look at the weapons platform, Dolok turned and walked toward the military barracks and offices, waving for his men to follow him.
None of the troops on the wall clapped or cheered—alas—but they didn’t glower down at Syla either.
Mostly, they looked stunned. Stunned or nervous as they shot looks at Wreylith and the weapons platform.
A few men, however, smiled and nodded when Syla’s gaze skimmed across them.
The military might not be as easy to win over as the civilians in the city, but at least it didn’t look like all the troops would oppose her.
Of course, what mattered most with soldiers was if their superior officers opposed her, and she highly doubted she’d won Dolok over.
“I don’t think this will be easy, Fel,” Syla said quietly, glad her bodyguard remained at her side.
“No, but you’ve declared your intentions. That will clear up a lot of people’s murky thoughts on the matter. And you’ve acquired new allies.” Fel nodded. “Powerful allies.”
Yes, Wreylith stated, though the word had been plural and probably meant to apply to the Freeborn Faction as well as the dragon.
Doubtless, Wreylith believed that she was the most powerful and could be paramount in Syla securing the throne and returning peace to the Kingdom.
Yes, Wreylith stated and swished her tail.