Chapter 19 #3
Oyenar scowled and drew his sword.
“Your Majesty,” the enforcer blurted.
“Is he perhaps in the castle?” Oyenar asked. “Where a pompous lord would normally reside after attempting to usurp the crown?”
“He hasn’t been living in the castle. We don’t know where he is today.”
“What about General Dolok?” Oyenar asked.
“He’s not in town. He and Colonel Mosworth went to the lighthouse to use the telescope to look at Harvest Island. People are saying there’s a chaotic vortex of evil that spawned from the volcano.”
Syla wished she could refute that, but all she could say was, “It’s more like roiling clouds than a vortex.”
“Who is in the castle and claiming to rule the Kingdom today?” Oyenar sounded disgusted.
Syla imagined storming up there with her allies only to find the throne room, the royal suite, and all the offices empty save for signs that read out to lunch. Or maybe out to see the chaotic vortex.
“Lord Relvin was there two days ago,” one of the enforcers in the back offered.
“That little twerp can’t be in charge of anything,” Oyenar said.
“I didn’t know your family had visited Oyenar on Bogberry Island before,” Syla murmured to Teyla.
“We’ve been and stayed in the palace there, but it wasn’t recent,” she said. “Relvin may have gone on a personal recruiting mission at some point during these past weeks.”
Remembering the lords he’d gathered for his dice game, Syla could envision that.
Your method of storming into your city and reclaiming your throne is far too filled with nattering chitchat, Wreylith observed from the wheelhouse.
Humans like to talk. We’re a garrulous species.
It’s a flaw. And boring to observe.
If a fight breaks out, will that be more interesting? Syla hoped that one wouldn’t. So far, the enforcers hadn’t tried to get past Fel and Oyenar. They kept eyeing the lord’s uniform—that was a general’s rank insignia on his collar—and giving each other significant looks.
Probably not. Aside from the dragon riders, who are somewhat more capable due to the magic they receive from their bonds to my kind, witnessing humans fight is like watching ants scrabble over discarded pieces of meat.
You’re in a persnickety mood today. We’re forced to act politically and diplomatically since we’re dealing with our own people.
I can’t order my troops to slay these enforcers to move things along more quickly.
Given how many crewmen were observing, both from the decks of the warships that had been in the harbor all along and those that had accompanied her to Harvest Island, Syla especially felt that was true.
She couldn’t risk killing Kingdom enforcers.
“We’ll see General Dolok first,” Oyenar decided, then looked over his shoulder at Syla to add quietly, “I’ll have the most sway with him.”
“Oh?” She looked hopefully at Oyenar. Since Dolok commanded all the armed forces, he’d been one of her largest obstacles, even when he hadn’t outright opposed her. “Did you serve together?”
Oyenar smiled tightly. “He served under me.” He faced the enforcers again. “Step aside. We’re going to see General Dolok.”
“I’m… afraid we can’t do that, my lord. We need to arrest… anyone with a moon-mark.”
“You’re not arresting the queen,” Fel growled.
Syla sensed Wreylith on the move a moment before a shadow flew over them.
The enforcers gaped skyward and started to skitter back, but they weren’t quick enough.
Wreylith landed on the dock in the middle of them and roared while spreading her wings.
She bodily knocked some of them into the water.
The others leaped off to avoid her. Soon, other than the large red dragon standing on the dock, talons curled over the edges, the way was clear.
Dragons care neither to be diplomatic nor political, Wreylith said.
Grab your assistant, and climb onto my back.
I will take you to your lighthouse so that you may confront one of the ignorant fools presuming to plot against you while you are in the midst of defending the very kingdom that they live in.
“Are we… safe?” Oyenar asked, eyeing Wreylith.
“Yes,” Syla said, “she’s offering us a ride to the lighthouse.”
“Us?” Oyenar asked.
Fel lifted a hand, as if he might try to claim the other spot on Wreylith’s back, but he lowered it. “Yes, you should go with the queen to speak with Dolok, my lord. I can take Tibby, Teyla, and the others to the castle. If there are any twerps there, we can deal with them.”
“As I recall from previous visits, there are many twerps in that castle,” Oyenar muttered.
“I’ll go along too,” Captain Vonla said, lifting an envelope as she joined Fel. “Major Hixun gave me a report to take to his commander in the castle.”
Syla wondered if that was the officer who’d originally ordered Hixun to step aside if assassins attacked her.
A lot had happened since then, and Hixun seemed loyal to her now, but she almost objected to that report being delivered.
But maybe if the military officers here learned what she’d accomplished, they, like Hixun, would be less inclined to go along with future assassination attempts.
Less speaking, more climbing, Wreylith boomed.
Using her magic for assistance, Syla hurried to pull herself onto her back.
Oyenar sheathed his sword but didn’t look like he knew how to mount a dragon.
Wreylith solved the problem by grasping him around the torso with her maw.
When her fangs reached for him, Oyenar almost dove off the dock to avoid that fate, but he wasn’t fast enough, and she tossed him into the air.
He remained athletic enough to twist and land on her back behind Syla, though his face had turned ashen in the brief time that had taken.
Not apologizing or even waiting for them to settle, Wreylith sprang into the air.
Are you feeling all right? Syla asked. You seem more impatient than usual.
I ache to find a suitable cave so that I might settle myself for the coming month.
For the delivery of your eggs? Syla didn’t know if that was the right term.
Dragon gestation does not take as long as human gestation. Of course, our hatchlings must finish developing in their eggs, which requires an attentive mother with few distractions.
In other words, you’d like to get the business your claimed human is involved with settled as soon as possible so you can focus on maternal things.
I’d like to find my cave.
I see where your priorities are.
Quite. Instead of heading straight to the lighthouse, Wreylith flew above the capital. The eyes of all below tracked her, and when she roared as she glided over the city streets, it reminded Syla of when she’d first arrived with Wreylith.
The human queen has returned to her land, the dragon boomed.
With the assistance of the gods, she has slain many stormers and their dragons in order to protect you.
She has restored a shielder to your Harvest Island, and she has fought off attempts by your enemies to claim another of your islands.
Meanwhile, a puny and conniving usurper has sneaked onto her throne like a rat skulking out of a hole in the middle of the night.
This pathetic being has ordered those with moon-marks, blessings bestowed by the gods, captured so that he may slay them.
He will be vanquished forthright. The queen has returned to protect her people and to ensure a bounteous future for all who walk in her shadow and swear their allegiance to her and her kingdom.
As Wreylith spoke, the telepathic words carrying far, more and more people came out into the streets.
When their faces turned toward her, Syla lifted a hand.
As she’d done before, Wreylith circled the city and delivered the message more than once.
At first, people gawked in stunned silence, but then cheers went up.
“I should warn you that the last time Wreylith did this,” Syla said over her shoulder, “a sniper fired at me. You may want to be ready to duck.”
Oyenar was gaping. Syla didn’t know if it was because it was his first time flying and everything was amazing—she understood that emotion well—or because he was surprised Wreylith was addressing the entire city.
“She tends to be direct,” Syla said.
“I… yes. I see. Are you instructing her to say those things?”
“Wreylith is nobody’s puppet.” Syla laughed at the idea.
Wreylith roared, and did it have an indignant tinge?
“I’ll admit,” Syla said, “I hadn’t realized she was monitoring my situation that closely. She’s been a little preoccupied of late, and, as she reminds me often, humans are puny and barely worth paying attention to.”
“She must pay attention to you somewhat.”
“I promised her a horn-hog farm.”
Another reason to end the shenanigans of your would-be usurpers, Wreylith said, the words only for Syla. It is likely difficult to raise livestock while one is battling enemies.
I’ve heard farmers say that, yes.
As Wreylith circled the city one more time, more cheers going up, Syla eyed the rooftops and streets for snipers. They didn’t appear. She did spot Teyla, Tibby, Fel, and the others leaving the waterfront to head toward the bluff and castle.
“We’d better go to the lighthouse now.” Syla patted Wreylith, wanting to deal with Dolok quickly in case her allies ran into trouble.
Relvin might be a twerp, but he’d had a lot of time without supervision, and who knew what he was up to?
And where under the eyes of the moon was Fograth?
She hadn’t had a conversation with the man in years and had no idea if he was a figurehead or a mastermind.
“Riding on a dragon is exhilarating and terrifying,” Oyenar said. “There isn’t any kind of harness. I don’t think my wife would approve of this.”
“She doesn’t like for you to go into danger anymore?”
“She does not. She keeps trying to get me to retire since island lords can be targets for political malcontents. And, apparently, dragon riders trying to invade one’s island.”
“I can’t argue about either.” Syla had no idea if a political malcontent had slain Lord Ravoran, but she would hate for the same fate to befall Oyenar.
Wreylith banked and flapped her wings to climb in altitude. As they flew over the castle and toward the lighthouse on the point beyond it, Syla started to look down to see if Relvin might be on the courtyard wall, watching them, but her gaze snagged on the southern horizon.
From this height, Harvest Island and the spreading black clouds were visible.
In the short time since she’d last looked, those clouds had descended, half-swallowing the visible landmass.
Lightning streaked about in the writhing gloom, branches striking the ground and also shooting out toward the sea.
Syla hoped the barrier was still up. Even if it was, it wasn’t stopping those lightning bolts from streaking out.
And was something forming in the clouds above the volcano?
It reminded her uncomfortably of the ugly face-like thing that had been visible in the small cloud in the storm god’s laboratory.
“That’s hideous,” Oyenar said, following her gaze. “And scary. It keeps spreading. I’m worried Bogberry Island will be at risk.”
“I’m worried all of our islands are at risk.”
Oyenar looked sharply at her. “Do you know what it is?”
She had an inkling, but all she said was, “Nothing good.”