Theirpetdragons,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.
