“I can’t!” Vorik called back. “He’s in love with the wild dragon!”
Jhiton swore.
Wreylith emitted a clucking noise that Syla hadn’t heard before. Was that how dragons… laughed? She soundedsmug.
After flapping away from the battling males, Wreylith landed on the half-destroyed wheelhouse of the whaling ship. Two of the beleaguered cannon men started to aim toward her but,Captain Radmarik, his cane still in the side of his mouth, called them off.
“You don’t fire at the dragon the princess is riding, men.”
Since Syla was still hanging on to Wreylith’s tail, it was debatable if she wasridinganything, but, politely, nobody pointed out the dubiousness of her position. The weary crewmen slumped, relieved that Wreylith wasn’t attacking. Fel, face bloody but his mace still in his hand, looked toward the sky.
The black dragon was now chasing Agrevlari, heading out over the ocean and away from the ships. From his rapid wingbeats, the black was pissed. Vorik and his general remained astride their dragons, but neither appeared to be in control of their mounts. They were too far away for Syla to see well, but the general’s back was stiff. He was irked.
And Vorik?
He turned to look back at Syla and saluted before their dragons flew out of view.
The tail shifted, and Syla tightened her grip, but Wreylith was lowering her to the deck. Syla let go, thankful to have solid wood under her feet. She was about to thank the dragon for helping, but Wreylith opened her fang-filled maw and roared.
With their general departing, only a couple of the dragons with riders had remained in the area. Whatever that roar meant, it was enough to make them fly off. Only the wild dragons remained, appearing unconcerned about Wreylith’s commentary. One even plunged into the water for a swim.
A hand came to rest on Syla’s shoulder. Fel.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I think so.” Syla pulled out the dragon figurine and held it up to the sunlight, Wreylith’s great form behind it. It was amazing how similar they looked. “She may be starting to like me.”
Wreylith’s eyes locked onto the figurine. She roared again, then whipped her neck down so quickly that it startled Syla intodropping the little artifact. Before it could clatter to the deck, Wreylith caught it in her great maw, then sprang off the wheelhouse and flew away from the ship. The wild dragons took off after her, heading to Harvest Island, no doubt to hunt the elioks.
“Likemay be an optimistic word,” Syla said.
“She could have lit us all on fire before leaving,” Fel pointed out.
“True.”
Syla was sad that she was losing her link to Wreylith, but, once all the dragons had disappeared from the sky, and the whaling ship was on course for Castle Island, she admitted that things were looking up. Hopefully, Aunt Tibby was safely underway in her own ship, with none of the stormers aware that it carried the shielder.
Syla dreaded returning home to all the clean-up, funerals, and political maneuvering she would have to deal with, but if they could get the shielder working to protect her home… that would be something. She would endure the rest. There was no other choice.
EPILOGUE
“What is your bodyguard doing?”Aunt Tibby lowered her magical tool and frowned toward the doorway of the stone chamber under the castle.
Sergeant Fel had one leg stuck out behind him as he faced the wall and leaned his weight against it.
“Calf stretches, I think.” Syla was holding a scroll open for her aunt while she tinkered. Earlier, she’d had the distressing duty of directing the removal of her sister’s body, so this was an appealingly simple task.
Tibby had already replaced the broken shielder with the new one, which thrummed happily, silver light bathing their faces. Now, at Syla’s urging, she was trying to figure out if the other one could be repaired. It was even more damaged than when she’d last seen it. The stormer that Vorik hadpretendedto run through had probably bashed it a few more times before leaving. He and the enemy that Fel had killed were gone when Syla, Tibby, and Fel had arrived in the chamber.
At least a protective barrier was once again around Castle Island, keeping dragons and other winged predators away. Thepopulace could now rebuild and prepare refugee camps for those who came over from unprotected Harvest Island. Syla had already sent a ship with a message for Lord Ravoran, inviting him to direct people here until they could find a better solution. She’d promised to do her best to return a working shielder as soon as possible, but she didn’t know if that would be possible. And, if Wreylith’s enthusiasm for elioks was anything to go by, the island had to be swarming with dragons by now. Hopefully, they were too busy hunting in the forests to harass people.
“Well, they’re distracting,” Tibby said.
Ignoring her, though he could surely hear the words, Fel switched legs and continued his stretches.
Syla had offered to tend his fresh wounds and suggested daily servings of bone broth to help rebuild his ligaments and tendons, but he’d only given her a baleful look as he’d rubbed his hip andnotinvited her to heal anything.
“He’s not making any noise.” Syla held the scroll closer when Tibby waved her finger. “Are you distracted by his movement? Or is it his taut physique?”
