Chapter 17 #2
Wreylith lifted another boulder but paused and cocked her head.
Her eyes flared golden as she tossed it out of the way, then peered to the south, toward the forested lands stretching away from the base of the volcano, the area where the dragons had been hunting eliok.
Was she looking even farther away than that?
Toward the distant shoreline and the sea beyond the island?
In the dark, it was hard to tell. When the lightning wasn’t flashing, her golden eyes were the only illumination.
Two dragons approach, Wreylith said.
Stormer dragons? Syla squinted into the night but couldn’t see anything but darkness. I was hoping we’d scared them all away.
Maybe scared wasn’t the right word. Even though she’d killed three dragons with the weapons platform, they’d seen the lightning strike it, which should have bolstered them.
The way they’d taken off made her think they might have been summoned.
To plot new attacks on the Kingdom? Syla hoped they’d only been called to that big tribal meeting Vorik had mentioned.
They are wild dragons, Wreylith said. Sisters that I have encountered before. I would not consider them allies.
Does that mean they’re enemies?
In the past, they have been rivals for males that were more attracted to me than to them.
Definitely enemies.
They are flying straight toward us.
I don’t suppose they could be convinced to help you dig.
Wreylith turned her golden eyes toward Syla. Would you assist one who was a rival for your mate’s attention?
I’d like to think I’m mature and gracious and would.
You are not a dragon.
Puny humans, a powerful female voice boomed into Syla’s mind.
“Is that us?” Teyla asked, hearing it too.
Puny humans, we have learned that you seek to replace the odious magical barrier that keeps dragons from hunting on this island, this island where the delicious and sumptuous elioks live.
Further, it is a restful spot for a dragon to relax upon during a flight across the Sea of Storms from one great land to another.
You shall not take it from us. We will not permit it.
Lightning flashed, slamming down near the top of the volcano. Boulders tumbled down the slope, and Syla grimaced, not reassured by Teyla’s belief that the strikes were random. Even if they were, randomness could get them killed as easily as divine intent.
“If the dragons don’t get us first,” she murmured.
I will attempt to deter the sisters. Wreylith sprang into the air.
“How’s she going to deter two dragons when there’s only one of her?” Teyla asked.
“She’s powerful and fearsome,” Syla said.
A branch of lightning streaked down from the clouds, passing just scant yards in front of Wreylith. She shrieked and banked hard. Fortunately, the lightning didn’t hit her and wasn’t like the continuous strike from earlier. Regardless, Wreylith roared her vexed defiance at the clouds.
Syla rocked back, realizing that if Teyla’s hypothesis was correct, and magic could draw the lightning, the earlier extended strike might have been a result of Tibby activating the shielder artifact.
Syla couldn’t sense its power now, but maybe Tibby had deactivated it when they’d been buried under rocks? Or…
Syla bent over and gripped her knees. What if the lightning had managed to destroy the shielder? And if Fel and Tibby had been nearby, it could have gotten them too…
No, Syla reminded herself. Wreylith had sensed that Tibby lived.
Roars and shrieks came from the trees to the south. Syla straightened, reminded of the immediate threat.
Lightning flashed, and she saw the combatants in the air, Wreylith already engaging with a blue dragon. A green was flying past the confrontation, continuing toward Teyla and Syla.
Swearing, Syla hurried toward the pit that Wreylith had thus far excavated.
“Take cover!” she called to Teyla.
If only there were more cover. While Wreylith had dug out many rocks, there wasn’t yet anything like a cave that they could hide in. Groping in the dark, Syla scrambled into the pit, but, even crouching low in it, she feared the dragon would easily spot her.
Teyla drew her sword, but she also ran, not foolish enough to believe she could best a dragon.
Shrieks of pain came from the aerial battle, but Syla dared not lift her head over the edge of the pit to check on Wreylith. It didn’t matter. The green dragon found them anyway.
Lightning flashed above it, but no branches streaked out to blast it. The storm god probably wanted one of his creations to stop Syla and her team.
As if the green dragon knew who she was and that she was in charge, it folded its wings in to dive at Syla.
“Look out.” She backed away from Teyla, not wanting her cousin to be injured too. At the same time, she fumbled for the buckle of her medical kit, wanting to pull out a scalpel. Such a tiny blade wouldn’t do much to a dragon, but it was all she had.
Syla didn’t have time to open the kit, not with her hands shaking and the dragon’s talons extending as it arrowed toward her. She flung herself to the side of the pit, hoping that she would be lucky enough to avoid being plucked up.
Teyla leaped in front of her, swinging the sword. The dragon jerked its leg out of the way, avoiding the slash. It still managed to snatch up Syla, and she gasped as strong talons wrapped around her, plucking her up. They tightened painfully around her torso but didn’t slay her outright.
I have one of the puny humans, the dragon boomed to all in the area.
As the female flapped her wings and flew out of Teyla’s reach, leaving her cursing and swinging her blade at only air, she added, I sense that she has a small amount of magical power.
That makes her important to her people, yes?
Could she be bartered to them for the destruction of the shielder artifact?
The Island of Eliok must remain free for all dragons!
Syla squirmed, trying to free herself, but as soon as the dragon flew higher, she stopped. The last thing she wanted was for her captor to release her so that she plummeted to the hard rocks below.
The strap of the medical kit slid off Syla’s shoulder. She slapped it to her side, not wanting to lose it, then remembered her thought to pull out a scalpel. Maybe if she managed to stab the small blade between the dragon’s toes, the spot would be vulnerable enough to convince it to release her.
Lightning flashed again, revealing the ground below. The dragon hadn’t flown high into the air—instead she seemed to be heading toward the sea—and the drop was about fifteen feet. Syla might survive such a fall…
Slay all the humans, and get this red monster off me! the other dragon cried. If they are dead, they can’t— Shrieks split the night.
Busy with her battle, Wreylith wouldn’t be able to help Syla. Careful not to lose her medical kit, she delved into it, groping for the scalpel. But she brushed something that tingled with magic. The jar of burn ointment she’d been thinking about earlier.
She almost dismissed it—ointment couldn’t help in her predicament. But lightning flashed again, a branch striking a boulder below and splitting it. Again, she thought of Teyla’s words.
“Attracted by magic,” she whispered.
You are not valuable enough to barter? the dragon carrying her asked.
I’m the queen of these people. I’m very valuable. If you put me down, we can negotiate.
I must fly back to assist my ally. Wreylith is strong.
Yes, she is. Syla fished out the jar, closed her medical kit, and struggled to get her arms close enough together to reach and remove the lid. And she’s my friend. If you don’t let me go—er, lightly set me down—she’ll come and slay you.
I will slay you first. You presume to keep dragons out of lands which dragons wish to visit.
The gods gave these lands to humans. As a gust of wind spattered cold rain onto her cheeks and whipped at her clothing, Syla got the lid off the jar.
She slid her fingers in, then stretched them upward with the ointment.
All she could reach was the side of the dragon’s leg, but she managed to smear the goop on.
What is that?
Burn ointment. Syla realized it was probably pointless, that the magic couldn’t possibly be strong enough to attract lightning. If it were, one of the bolts would have struck her medical kit already.
The dragon shook her. Cease touching me with that. It is slimy.
If Syla hadn’t been in such a predicament, she would have laughed—maybe all dragons shared Wreylith’s disdain for unctuous substances.
Yes, it is. Syla smeared more onto the dragon’s leg as well as its foot and talons. Maybe, even if lightning didn’t strike, the ointment would cause the creature’s grip to slip.
But the talons tightened, and the dragon roared in irritation.
A pained shriek came from Wreylith’s battle. Lightning flashed on the south side of the volcano, and Syla glimpsed the blue dragon plummeting to the ground. With a great roar, Wreylith flew toward Syla.
The green dragon must have seen the threat too.
She’d already been heading toward the sea, but she flapped her wings harder.
Syla slipped in the creature’s grip. Even though she’d wanted that, it startled her and made her gasp in fear.
She glanced down, hoping she was over water, not land, but in the darkness that had returned, it was hard to tell.
Reaching up, Syla grasped the foot gripping her, rethinking her plan. It would be better to wait for Wreylith to catch up and help than try to be dropped.
But as she grabbed the ointment-covered foot, her hand sliding, her moon-mark flared silver.
Even though she didn’t try to draw upon her power, it flowed out of her and into the dragon, as if it was using the ointment as a conduit.
The dragon roared in irritation and surprised Syla by releasing her.
A split second later, the clouds roiled, and lightning flashed. As Syla fell, she witnessed it striking the dragon—right where she’d smeared the ointment. The creature shrieked in utter pain, but Syla could feel no triumph as she plummeted to certain death.
She had the wherewithal to smash her spectacles to her face so they wouldn’t fly off but was startled when, instead of slamming into the ground, she fell past the black cliffs and dropped into the sea.
Hitting the water knocked the air out of her and stung almost as much as she’d expected from hitting rock.
The icy cold sea enveloped her, invading her throat and nostrils.
Only the strap of her medical kit kept it from being torn away.
When she surfaced, gasping and coughing for air, something sharp brushed her, then fastened around her.
She almost screamed as more talons wrapped around her, but she recognized Wreylith’s aura and tried to relax as the dragon drew her out of the sea.
Dangling and coughing to get water out of her windpipe, she found relaxing difficult.
Cheers went up, confusing Syla. She adjusted her spectacles, but water droplets covered the lenses, and, in the night, she could barely see anything but bright yellow spots. Lanterns? Oh, the ships. The dragon had dropped her between the fleet and the cliffs.
Do you require medical attention? Wreylith asked as she gained altitude. I will take you to your vessel.
No. I’m fine. Syla coughed up water, somewhat belying the assertion but added, Can you take me back to Teyla? Wait, are those wild dragons still—
Dead.
Both of them?
I slew the one I intercepted, and then hurried to fly after the one that captured you.
Before I reached her, a tremendous branch of lightning came straight down from the clouds and slammed into her leg.
More, it split and wrapped all around her body.
You are fortunate that she dropped you first. Wreylith flew over land toward the buried shielder chamber.
I had almost convinced myself that the lightning, if these clouds were conjured by the storm god, would not strike a dragon.
I may have helped that along.
I sensed… something. A flare of magic.
That was me. I smeared some of my burn concoction on the dragon and then tried to enhance it, to either make it draw the lightning or to make her grip slip so she would drop me.
Neither might have been wise, given my position well above the ground—the sea—but it’s hard to think clearly when a dragon has you in her clutches.
So, your slimy goo led to the end of that dragon’s life.
It was a magical burn ointment.
I will attempt to remain hale in your presence so that I don’t need you to treat me again.
Under normal circumstances, the ointment would be soothing, healing, and restorative.
You will not put goo on my eggs when they are laid.
I wouldn’t dream of it.
Wreylith spread her wings, coming in to land next to Teyla, and brought Syla to the ground.
“What happened?” Teyla had climbed out of the pit and still held her sword.
As Wreylith returned to pulling out boulders, Syla said, “My dragon ally has forbidden me from using anything out of my medical kit on her eggs.”
“I meant over there.” Teyla pointed to where the other dragon had been struck by lightning.
“We may have proven your hypothesis true.”