Chapter 10
Shouts and cries of, “Dragon!” and “Man the cannons!” and “Look out!” penetrated the window of Syla’s room.
Her instincts yelled at her to scramble under the bed and hide. As if that would keep a dragon from getting her.
But she had, however inadvertently, called for this dragon to come. She had to do her best to make sure it didn’t kill anyone in the area.
After gulping in a breath of air that wasn’t as fortifying as she wanted, Syla grabbed the figurine and her pack, then made herself open the window so the red-scaled creature could find her.
The dragon came into view, beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
Even larger than the big male that Vorik rode, she exuded tremendous power.
Her muscles relaxed and flexed as she flew, lingering fires from the harbor and atop the bluff highlighting her sleek belly.
Golden eyes reflected the flames, or maybe they even glowed from within, fueled by her magical power.
Her great wings spread as she descended in an elegant glide, angling to come over the courtyard walls and right at Syla’s room, as if the dragon knew exactly where a princess would be found.
Maybe she could sense the figurine, almost a miniature version of herself. Or maybe not almost. Could it possibly have been crafted to be a representation of this dragon?
As those slitted golden eyes locked onto Syla, she couldn’t help but tremble, both from fear at such an awesomely terrifying predator and from the concern that she couldn’t possibly heal a dragon so she wouldn’t live to see dawn.
She’d meant to find a shielder to help her people, not call down a living nightmare to kill her.
“Your Highness!” the soldier who’d been assigned to guard her window cried, tearing his gaze from the approaching dragon when he noticed that she’d opened it.
Such shock and horror stamped his face that she paused with one foot on the sill. She’d been about to climb out, but she’d forgotten about him.
The dragon descended lower, her glide deceptively fast as she sailed over the wall. The soldier sprang for Syla.
She lurched back, ducking down below the sill an instant before he passed through the window.
He clipped her as he twisted in the air, trying to grab her and carry her deeper into the room with him.
But she rolled sideways, flattening her spectacles to her face to keep them from flying off.
She landed awkwardly, ramming into a bookcase, as he landed deftly on his feet.
“Your Highness,” he blurted, reaching for her as he looked toward the window, his eyes widening as the dragon filled the view.
Syla stood and backed away from him, but the bookcase impeded her retreat. The soldier caught her wrist with one hand as he used the other to shut the window.
If there’d been time, Syla would have laughed at the notion that a glass window casement would keep out a dragon.
Their scaled visitor didn’t crash through it the way she’d expected.
As the red dragon filled their view, Syla realized she was far too large to fly through a window or even a doorway.
Instead, she landed on the roof above, and her long tail, as thick as a mature aspen, slapped down.
It smashed through the window, obliterating the glass and knocking the soldier halfway across the room.
He released Syla or she would have gone flying too.
A deafening screech came from above, followed by snapping and wrenching sounds that sent Syla to her knees.
She almost dropped the figurine as she pressed her hands to her ears.
A huge section of the roof tore away as beams snapped and wood pieces slammed to the floor.
A section of the ceiling crashed down onto the soldier, half-burying him.
Using her maw, the dragon, now visible through a jagged gap above them, flung a huge chunk of the roof into the courtyard. One of the great golden orbs that were her eyes lowered so she could peer down at Syla, not with curiosity or amiability but with irritation.
Syla’s urge to dive under the bed returned. Instead, reminded that she was responsible for this, she steadied herself on the bookcase and walked toward the hole in the roof.
She opened her mouth to say she was ready, but shouts came from outside.
“Fire!” someone cried from the courtyard wall.
Cannons boomed, and, through the destroyed window, Syla glimpsed soldiers readying crossbows.
With her visitor perched on the remains of the roof, Syla couldn’t see how many cannonballs and quarrels struck her scales, but the expression on the dragon’s face, inasmuch as reptilian creatures had expressions that humans could recognize, suggested she was peeved rather than in pain. Vexed.
The golden eye turned away from Syla.
With premonition filling her, Syla yelled out the broken window. “Look out! Get back!”
Fire roiled from the rooftop, from the dragon’s maw, and blinding light filled the courtyard. The heat reached Syla even through the wall, and she backed several steps away. Behind her, the soldier groaned from under the rubble. At least he was still alive.
The troops in the hallway must have heard the commotion inside. Someone tried to open the door, but the collapsed roof had fallen in a way that blocked it.
“Help me!” came one of the men’s muffled yells.
“Push!”
In the courtyard, the soldiers ran in the face of such a powerful opponent—and the deadly inferno that the dragon was spewing.
Some fumbled and dropped their weapons as they sprinted away.
Others retained their crossbows and were more controlled and thoughtful, running for cover, then turning to try to shoot again.
The dragon roared and sent another inferno into the courtyard, igniting what few flammable structures remained.
Surprisingly, her fire hadn’t yet engulfed any humans, and she soon turned back to Syla, her tail flicking in annoyance.
“I’m ready,” Syla called up to her.
When the fanged maw descended through the roof, smoke wafting from huge nostrils at the end of her snout, Syla decided she’d lied. Whatever she was, she was not ready.
But another groan from the rubble pile reminded her of the lives at stake.
She made herself step closer to the hole so the dragon could reach her without further destruction.
Even so, the size of the creature’s head knocked more of the ceiling down as her jaws parted.
Pointed fangs longer than swords reached for Syla, and she squinted and looked away, afraid the dragon had lied, that she didn’t want healing.
Maybe she’d decided to immediately kill Syla for her insolence.
For the second time that night, a great maw fastened around her body, covering her from knees to shoulders. Syla had meant to be brave, but she shrieked as those dagger-sharp fangs clasped her less gently than the other dragon had. They tightened, to crush and pierce her, she was certain.
Her feet lifted from the ground, her entire weight suspended between those jaws—those fangs. She shrieked again.
Rubble shifted, and the bedroom door shoved open a couple of inches with another cry of, “Push!”
The dragon lifted Syla toward the hole in the ceiling. The door opened farther, and a soldier squeezed in, his sword raised. Fel shoved his way in behind the man. His gaze darted immediately toward Syla, but their eyes only met briefly before the dragon lifted her out of view.
“It’s got the princess!” Fel yelled.
“Fire!” someone cried again from the courtyard wall.
Despite the fresh flames blazing all around the castle, more cannons boomed.
It didn’t matter. The dragon’s powerful legs shifted, and she leaped into the air.
Wind from her wings whipped at Syla’s dress as she flew higher.
No, she was carried higher. Like a hapless fish caught in an eagle’s talons.
Except a fang-filled maw was worse than talons.
If the dragon shifted her jaw in the slightest—if the dragon burped—Syla might be eviscerated.
As the creature rose higher, Syla’s heart hammering against her eardrums, the damaged castle grounds came into view.
The devastation was as bad as she’d feared.
Then they flew over the edge of the bluff, and she dangled over a drop of more than a hundred feet down to the harbor.
That was terrifying, but worse was the view of all the carnage, the destroyed and smoldering ships, docks and piers incinerated, and wreckage and bodies floating in the water.
A cannonball streaked toward Syla, and she almost cried out again. The dragon adjusted her grip as she tilted her wings to turn, to fly parallel to the coastline.
The cannonball sailed past inches below Syla’s dangling feet. More booms came from the castle walls.
The dragon’s wings flapped easily and steadily, and Syla had the impression that her captor was supremely unconcerned about being fired upon.
After a few moments, Syla got her fear under control.
The dragon hadn’t yet killed her, and they’d flown out of range of the cannons.
As she gazed grimly back at the smoldering city, she resolved again to find a way to help her people.
More than ever, she knew she had to restore the sky shield so that more predators couldn’t take advantage.
If she could get away from the dragon, maybe she could yet find her aunt.
“Just one problem,” she whispered, all too aware of the fangs wrapped around her, holding her tightly so that she wouldn’t fall. “Getting away.”
After a journey shorter than Syla had expected, the dragon tilted inland.
Syla had thought her captor would take her to some distant lair, but this… She twisted her neck, careful not to prong herself with unnecessary body movements, and peered in the direction they were going.
The lighthouse. She blinked. Captain Vorik had said he would be there, but why would this red dragon take Syla there?
This red dragon, she reminded herself, had been chatting with Vorik’s dragon.
“Oh.”
As they approached the lighthouse, the fire still burning in the top, sending a beacon out to sea, Syla could make out a huge dark form resting on the ground beside it. The green dragon.
Her vision wasn’t strong enough to see in the gloom if Vorik was also down there. In the tunnels, the soldiers had chased after him, so it was possible he hadn’t made his way out here yet. It was also possible he was dead.
Her captor flapped her wings and angled toward the top of the lighthouse. Before reaching it, the dragon flexed her neck and startled Syla by letting go.
Syla shrieked, arms flailing, as she plunged toward the ground. She was still twenty feet in the air!
She flapped her arms as if she might fly, but she plummeted like a rock. The dragon on the ground lifted its head but did nothing to intervene. Syla squinted her eyes shut, expecting to hit so hard that she broke her neck.
But a man darted from the dragon’s side. At the last second, he positioned himself underneath and caught her under her knees and shoulders. Even so, her weight and momentum almost carried her to the ground. But he compensated and kept her from injury.
With terror surging through her body, Syla gripped his shoulders, half afraid he would do as the dragon had and cast her away. The cliff above which the lighthouse perched wasn’t that far away…
“Your Highness,” Captain Vorik said in surprise. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”
Syla groaned.