Chapter 36 #2
Agrevlari left the black dragon’s side and dove for the ships.
Vorik glanced down at Syla, but Agrevlari angled for one of the guard ships. Dare she believe he was choosing another target because he didn’t want to hurt her? To sink her ship?
I will inform the others that the abeyance may be brief, Wreylith said.
Do you know where to find elioks? Syla asked, inspiration finally coming to her.
Vorik raised his sword, and Agrevlari dodged cannonballs as he plummeted toward the crew.
I could tell you, Syla added. Thanks to my herbalism knowledge—and being aware that the foragers who sell to my vendors compete with the elioks—I know where they spend most of their time.
A dragon may find prey without a human! Wreylith boomed in indignation.
Are you sure? You’re not familiar with our islands, right? Elioks are never out in the open. Flying over their territory won’t allow you to see them.
Their appealing scent will guide me!
Or I could tell you where they live. Then you could swoop down and catch many before the barrier returns. Syla expected Wreylith to tell her that the plan to repair the shielder would come to naught and the islands would be laid bare to dragons for all eternity. It wasn’t a bad bet.
What Wreylith asked was, Is your death truly imminent? Must I make this decision immediately?
Through the figurine, Syla sensed that the red dragon had reached land and was flying past the volcano, joining a couple other dragons—the ones Syla had seen soaring overhead earlier—in the area.
Cries of alarm came from the guard ship as Agrevlari blasted it with fire.
Crew members jumped overboard to escape the inferno.
Vorik threw something that exploded when it struck one of the cannons—and a keg of powder near it.
Flames roared into the air, mingling with the dragon fire, and soon the ship was engulfed.
Agrevlari flew away, unscathed. Vorik’s face was grim and determined, giving no sign that he or his general would demand or accept surrender.
My death is very imminent. Syla tried not to sound desperate, but if she couldn’t make a deal with Wreylith soon, the stormers would not only sink all the ships, but they would learn about the decoy and soon find the other ship.
They would destroy the shielder, kill Aunt Tibby, and be one step closer to the utter destruction of the entire kingdom.
You saw when you brought me here that stormers and their dragons are determined to kill me.
Their pet dragons, Wreylith said with scorn. Sounding somewhat less insulted, she added, It is not honorable to kill a healer.
I agree wholeheartedly. Torturing one isn’t wonderful either. Syla doubted the dragon would be sympathetic, but she shared her memory of Lesva’s interrogation.
They target you because you have magic? The moon-mark?
Yes, Syla admitted, though she hated to remind any of the dragons that she had the power to activate the shielders that kept them away from their beloved prey.
And are descended from Queen Erasbella.
Yes, Syla replied promptly, though she hadn’t yet figured out why her great-great grandmother mattered to the dragon.
I may be one of the last of her living descendants.
If you could help me before our line is forever ended, I would be grateful.
And I wouldn’t call to you for assistance again.
I’ll even give you the figurine so you can cast it into the sea or do what you wish to ensure you’re not disturbed again.
The dragon snorted into her mind. You would not. A dragon is too powerful an ally. You cannot resist touching that figurine and calling to me.
You do have allure.
Certainly.
Another dragon dove toward the whaling ship, straight toward the decoy. Syla was surprised that none had yet bathed the vessel in flames. Maybe they believed the shielder would have some magical defense? Or that it would explode under dragon fire and harm not only the crew but nearby attackers?
Once more, Syla looked up at the black dragon. Agrevlari had joined it again, and the two dragons circled, their riders looking… not at the decoy but back toward land.
Syla’s heart lurched. Was it possible they’d realized this was a decoy? Could they have somehow sensed that the shielder was on another ship, one that might now be leaving that cove?
The elioks live in the forests of Edor along the rainy coast to the southwest, Syla told Wreylith, in part because she doubted, as she’d briefly hoped, that she would succeed in trading the information for help.
They love the tart redfall berries that grow as a ground cover beneath the great cedars, and they also adore the squat yellow merikland fungi that are used in healing tinctures.
Excellent. It would be difficult for a dragon to spot prey that hides under great cedars.
You’ll have to dive between the trees to reach them.
An appealing challenge.
On his black dragon, the general pointed downward, toward the whaling vessel.
Agrevlari and three other dragons obeyed what must have been an order to attack. This time, Vorik wouldn’t choose another target. Commanded by his brother, he couldn’t.
“Stand your ground,” Captain Radmarik yelled and ran to man one of the harpoon launchers himself.
He dipped the projectile into a bucket of pitch, lit the end on fire, and blasted it at one of the dragons arrowing toward the ship, wings pressed to its side so that it gained speed.
Another dragon sped toward the decoy. And Agrevlari… Syla gulped. Was he heading straight toward her?
She didn’t want to retreat, but she had no way to defend herself against dragon talons. Tucking the figurine into her pocket, she backed into the wheelhouse. The wooden walls and ceiling would not protect her from a dragon determined to reach her.
She looked around for a weapon, anything she could use to defend herself. She spotted a stick with a metal hook on the end, the kind of thing one used to light lanterns from a distance. Almost laughing at the ludicrousness, she snatched it up.
Booms thundered outside. The deck pitched sideways as something—a dragon?—struck the hull, and the ship rocked as if it were in the greatest of storms.
Flames grew visible through the doorway of the wheelhouse. Syla spotted Fel leaping to swing his mace at the blue dragon. This time, it had landed on the decoy, talons curling into the canvas. Its maw turned toward him, fire roiling in his throat.
“Look out!” Syla cried and stepped in that direction.
Before she reached the doorway, a thump and crunch came from right above her. The memory of being in her room when a dragon—Wreylith—ripped the roof off came to her. Then, exactly that happened. Great fangs crunching through wood, a dragon tore the roof off the wheelhouse.
Agrevlari perched above her, shards of wood tumbling from his fangs.
Syla hefted the metal hook, though it would do nothing to harm the powerful dragon. Vorik leaned into view from his back and opened his mouth to speak, but his gaze jerked to something in the air instead.
Wreylith! Agrevlari cried.
The red dragon slammed into him like the wrath of the gods.
Screeches that almost shattered Syla’s eardrums erupted as the huge creatures tumbled away, Wreylith’s talons slashing, raking deep into Agrevlari’s scales.
The dragons disappeared from her view, a tremendous splash sounded, and the ship rocked in the waves.
Syla grabbed the wheel and hung on. Lesser splashes continued, and more screeches assailed her ears.
With smoke hazing the blue sky above the de-roofed wheelhouse, Syla couldn’t see if any more dragons were coming. Spatters also darkened the lenses of her spectacles. Water? No. Blood. Agrevlari’s?
As soon as the rocking lessened, Syla wiped off her lenses and rushed to the doorway, reminded that Fel had been in danger. The entire crew had been.
Outside, the smoke was so dense that it took her a moment to spot Fel. He was alive, still fighting with his back to the decoy. Talon holes had been torn into the tarp, but it remained in place, tied over the pile of crates. Thank the departed gods, no dragon had attempted to set it on fire yet.
The one who’d tried was… Syla peered about, attempting to locate the blue dragon and figure out what was happening. There. He was… swimming? No, he must have been knocked into the water. One of his wings appeared broken.
As she stepped farther out onto the deck, looking for Agrevlari, a great red dragon appeared over the railing, rising out of the water like a jumping whale. Wings flapping and spattering water droplets, Wreylith snaked her long neck toward Syla.
Fear froze her, fear and confusion. For a moment, Syla thought the dragon was angry and would end her life. But, as she had before, Wreylith wrapped her maw around Syla and flung her into the air.
Cursing in alarm, Syla flailed awkwardly while flattening one hand to her face to keep her spectacles on. The hook flew out of her other hand as she groped for something to grab. The dragon’s back. She had to land on the dragon’s back.
But Wreylith was already zipping after a nearby foe, and Syla saw only a streak of red—her tail. She reached out, catching it in a bear hug, and wrapped her legs around it. She smashed her face against the scales to keep her spectacles from flying away and hung on with every muscle. Terrified.
Fire danced in the air all around her. Someone attacking Wreylith? No, a gray dragon was spewing flames at a blue dragon with a rider. Was that the gray that Syla had seen flying overhead earlier?
Wreylith’s tail swished as she flew about, her jaws snapping at enemies and driving others away from the whaling ship.
As she was whipped left and right, Syla struggled to figure out what was going on.
It took her a moment to realize that Wreylith had not only come to help, but she’d brought allies.
The other wild dragons that Syla had seen—and even more?