Chapter 18 #2
“Maybe you should have made that salve before summoning her.” Vorik, worried Wreylith wouldn’t give Syla time to explain herself, mounted Agrevlari. We’re going to have to protect the princess.
From Wreylith? Agrevlari sounded stunned at the idea.
I can’t seduce Syla or win her trust if she’s dead.
Agrevlari eyed Syla, who was, instead of wisely taking cover as the dragon approached, walking out to stand openly on the road with her arms spread. The general may have underestimated the magnitude of effort that would be required to achieve that goal.
Tell me about it. Vorik patted Agrevlari, urging him to take to the sky. It would be easier for the dragon to maneuver and fight once he was airborne.
Reluctance seeped from Agrevlari’s muscles, but he sprang into the air and started circling the area. Wreylith was approaching fast.
“Does the eral-pod venom salve work on dragons?” Fel asked as he came to stand by Syla with his mace in hand.
As if that would do anything against a powerful dragon.
“I have no idea,” Syla said.
Agrevlari remained close enough that Vorik could hear the conversation from above.
“But it shouldn’t hurt one,” Syla added.
“If dragons are like lizards,” the stableboy offered from the doorway of the machine shop, “they might like tangtor grass.”
Syla looked curiously at him.
“When snub-nose lizards lose their tails to predators,” the boy explained, “they’ve often been observed rubbing the bloody stump against macerated tangtor grass. It’s supposed to help with the regeneration.”
Syla’s gaze shifted to her aunt.
“Terrik has numerous books on lizards as well as a taxidermy collection of species from around the world. It’s one of his passions.” Tibby wavered on the road, not looking like she knew if she should stand beside her niece or run into the machine shop.
You dare intrude upon my thoughts again, human! Wreylith boomed into all of their minds, ending other conversations.
“I’m in need of a favor,” Syla said, her arms spread, “but it also occurred to me that you left before I could apply a healing salve to help your wound. I’m aware of numerous kinds that assist with venom.”
Wreylith flew over a canal and angled toward Syla. Agrevlari flapped his wings, as if he might intercept her, but her eyes flashed with power and irritation as she glanced at him, and he diverted.
Maybe Vorik should have stayed on the ground to face Wreylith without Agrevlari.
Put me down if you won’t fight her, he urged.
She’s irked. It would be suicidal for either of us to fight her.
Dragons have great regenerative powers, Wreylith boomed. We don’t need salves or other worthless human concoctions.
“I can make one specifically designed to help your kind with venom.” Syla’s glance toward the stableboy suggested she’d taken the lizard-tail-stump plant to mind. “If your foot aches at all, it would help.”
It does not ache! Such a feeble wound inconveniences a dragon not at all. Wreylith swooped low, talons stretching toward Syla.
To her credit, she didn’t flinch. Maybe she knew that showing fear to the dragon would be far worse than being bold.
But Vorik worried that boldness would get Syla killed. Though Agrevlari hadn’t put him down, as he’d wished, he jumped off, dropping twenty feet. He landed in a crouch with his sword in hand and sprinted toward Syla.
The dragon flew over Syla’s head, showing her close-up the foot that had been injured, the talons spread wide.
Fel leaped and took a swing at the dragon, and Vorik could have lashed out at the tail, but Wreylith swooped back upward, avoiding striking weapons.
She landed at the apex of the machine shop, talons scratching the roof.
Did she favor that injured leg as she landed? Maybe her foot did ache.
“It would not take long to make,” Syla said, as if the dragon hadn’t been six inches away from tearing her head off with those talons. “I noticed the ingredients in the garden.”
I do not need your human concoction. Wreylith glowered down at her.
“Give me a half hour in the kitchen,” Syla said and started walking up the road toward the farmhouse.
Vorik looked at Fel, wondering if his charge was always like this. The older man appeared as nonplussed as Vorik.
Wreylith sprang from the rooftop. Vorik whirled, raising his sword again, but the dragon soared past too far overhead for him to reach. Talons outstretched, Wreylith flew right at Syla.
Vorik charged after her, but Wreylith reached the princess first. Only when her shadow fell across Syla did she show fear, her arms jerking defensively upward.
Wreylith didn’t slay Syla, instead plucking her up and drawing a startled gasp from the princess. Syla flailed as the dragon carried her off, and her spectacles fell to the ground.
Vorik ran and picked them up, but, noticing the direction the dragon took off, had an inkling about what Wreylith intended, so he didn’t sprint after them. Fel did charge after Syla, but he was far too late to reach the princess. Wreylith swept her over fields on the way toward the farmhouse.
Reminded of when Wreylith had dropped Syla, not realizing that normal humans couldn’t fall from great heights without injury or death, Vorik realized the danger wasn’t yet over. He cut across the fields to run after them.
Wreylith did drop Syla when they reached the house ahead of him, but, this time, the dragon descended to five or six feet off the ground before opening her talons.
Syla wasn’t the most athletic—it couldn’t help that her spectacles had fallen off—and didn’t manage to keep her feet when she landed, but she stood up right away.
With determined steps, she strode toward the garden.
Meanwhile, Wreylith alighted on a nearby silo and glowered defiantly at the surrounding farmland.
This is fascinating, Agrevlari observed.
I wasn’t that fascinated to learn that you wouldn’t help me attack a threatening dragon, Vorik replied as he continued toward the farmhouse, doubting Syla could make salves without her spectacles.
Only certain threatening dragons. As you well know, I’ve aided you in battle against many fearsome enemies.
Just not the sexy ones.
Correct. You are fortunate that I categorize so few dragons so.
Apparently.
Tibby rode on yet another wheeled magical machine, stopping to pick up the limping Fel along the way, and arrived at the farmhouse at the same time as Vorik.
The bodyguard jumped off, grimacing as he landed on the leg he favored, but strode over to stand beside Syla as she plucked plants from the garden.
Mace still in hand, he alternated between glowering at the red dragon and at Vorik—as if he had anything to do with this.
He also sent a few glares at his wayward charge.
Ignoring him, Vorik walked to the garden and handed the spectacles to Syla.
“Oh, thank you,” she said with such relief in her voice that it clued him in to how poor her eyesight had to be without the implements.
An unfortunate handicap, though he’d observed that gardeners were often afflicted with it. Myopia was rare among his people; stormers were more likely to lose one or both eyes in battle, leaving a vision deficiency that spectacles couldn’t help.
With hers secured over her ears again, Syla efficiently collected the ingredients she needed and turned for the house.
Before she headed that way, Vorik handed her his collection of blackberries.
He didn’t have much hope of her making that cobbler now, but if she was going to be in the kitchen anyway…
Her expression was bemused, but she accepted them, then headed toward the house. Vorik started after her, but Tibby had parked her machine and stepped out to intercept him. Maybe she’d seen the blackberry exchange and didn’t approve.
“You are not needed, rider,” Tibby said, “and we would appreciate it if you would leave our island. Your people have done enough damage here.”
“I’m not needed? Surely, you don’t think you’ve made an ally of that dragon.” Vorik waved toward Wreylith, noticing that Agrevlari had alighted on another silo.
Wreylith was ignoring him utterly. Poor fellow. He needed to stick to flirting with females who didn’t scoff at bonded dragons.
“I do not believe that, no.” Tibby eyed Wreylith warily. No, she was eyeing both dragons warily. “I would like to encourage them to leave as well. My plan is to find a ship for our journey.” Her gaze swung back to him, her eyes cool behind her glass lenses. “A journey on which you are not invited.”
“Princess Syla has found me useful. She may invite me.”
“If she wanted to go off with you, she wouldn’t be trying to woo a different dragon to help us.”
“I’m certain she’s simply attempting to arrange transportation for you and her bodyguard. She was most pleased to ride with me earlier. Agrevlari is a far more agreeable dragon than that one. Far less likely to slay those he allows to ride him.”
“I’m sure he slew plenty of kingdom subjects last night.”
Vorik hesitated. He couldn’t deny that. Those had been their orders. Never would he have guessed that his brother would come up with this plan.
“Last night, my status as an agent of the Freeborn Faction had not yet been discovered by the rest of my people,” Vorik said quietly, aware that Syla had shared his story with her aunt.
“I understand why you mistrust me, but I’ve been commanded to protect the princess, and, since you are moon-marked, I will protect you, as well, if you’ll let me. ”
“You wanted to take Syla and leave her bodyguard and me behind, not protect me.”
Vorik spread his arms. “I only said that my dragon can carry at most two riders.”
“We know which two he intended to ride on that dragon,” Fel grumbled.
Tibby nodded at him, and they locked similar suspicious glowers on Vorik. Maybe she’d decided to forgive the bodyguard for his transgressions against her machine.
Clinks and clunks came from the kitchen as Syla prepared whatever she needed to make the salve. She was either oblivious to the argument outside or doing her best to ignore all of them. Probably a wise choice.
Tibby said something about packing a bag and getting some books, then strode inside, leaving only Fel glowering at Vorik.
“I admit I didn’t expect her to call a second dragon.
Or stand fearlessly while she approached.
” Vorik flexed his fingers in the air to mimic talons, and he smiled, though he’d not often observed that men found the gesture as charismatic and appealing as women did.
Most women. The aunt hadn’t been noticeably affected by his smile.
“Considering she’s not a trained warrior, she has… nerve.”
The compliment only made the bodyguard’s glower deepen. Maybe he didn’t want an enemy rider admiring his charge’s nerve.
So be it. Vorik collected the fruit he’d picked earlier and waited to see if Syla would succeed in talking Wreylith into offering a ride.
If she did… Vorik would have to find another way to get rid of the bodyguard and aunt. He had no doubt that they were scheming to get rid of him.