When their gazes met, Vorik lifted his bow in the air, a salute and also a signal to indicate success, though he suspected the general had heard all the details. For the beginning of the battle, Jhiton had been there, leading the attack on the castle, the need for vengeance burning in his green eyes. Later, he’d leaped off his dragon and into the courtyard, chasing down specific enemies with his swords, relentless in his desire to slay every moon-marked scion of the royal line.
When Agrevlari alighted atop the jagged rock formation, Vorik hopped down, finding a flat spot on which to land. As always, he gave a wide berth to his brother’s surly black dragon, Ozlemar, who tended to snap at anyone who strayed too close.
“Mission accomplished, eh, General?” Vorik asked, addressing his brother formally, as Jhiton preferred.
“This stage, yes. The battle was glorious, Captain.” Jhiton’s gaze locked with satisfaction on the smoldering castle.
“I’m looking forward to getting my hands on the crops. All those juicy and delicious fruits and vegetables that grow all over the islands, half of them wild and untended, justtherefor people to feast on, to eat without having to chew a thousand times. Jhiton, it’s beenyearssince I had a strawberry. Remember that battle? When we were lucky enough to find that merchant ship meandering out from under the shield with that most wondrous of bounties in its hold? Oh, and we can hunt with the dragons on Castle Island now.Easyhunting of fat and sumptuous prey. Have you seen the ungulates that wander the grassy hills of the pastures with barely any means to defend themselves? Cows and sheep and balsinor. Their meat issosucculent. I can’t wait. Do you think strawberries are in season now? Do you think one could smother a balsinor tenderloin in berries, and it would be good? I’ve heard of sauces one can make from them. Andjams.”
Jhiton gave him a sidelong look. “Only you would go to war forfruit.”
“Well, that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Access to resources that the entitled gardeners have kept from our people for centuries?”
“Resources like strawberries.”
“Apples are good too. I wonder if they’re in season yet. Summer is a ways from over.”
“You know what I want. What we all want.” Jhiton pointed at his chest and at Vorik’s but didn’t indicate the dragons, though they had expressed longing for the delicious ungulates that the shields denied them. But other things motivated dragons, and humans didn’t presume to know all that mattered to them. With their great power, they could compete with their fellow predatorsand hunt the dangerous prey found in the seas and on the desert and rainforest continents. Unlike the humans living outside of the gods’ protection, dragonsdidn’t need to worry about losing family members to ferocious predators every time they left their caves. “A better life for our people,” Jhiton added.
Despite their victory, a familiar haunted expression lurked in the general’s eyes.
As always, Vorik was sympathetic—he missed his little nephew and couldn’t imagine what it had been like for his brother to lose his only son—but he also flirted with the idea of pointing out that war wouldn’t bring Jebrosh back. Since Jhiton was, in addition to everything else, his superior officer, Vorik didn’t do that. He merely nodded.
“I have a mission for you.” Jhiton pointed to a blue dragon flying toward them, a female rider on its back.
Captain Lesva from the Moonhunt Tribe.
Vorik straightened, bracing himself for whatever sarcastic comments his rival and former lover would have for him. Despite a few feminine attributes bound tightly by riding leathers, Lesva didn’t have many soft aspects about her. Maybe the general’s presence would inhibit her snark.
Wishful thinking,Agrevlari’s telepathic voice rose up from below, the words for Vorik alone.Her tongue is sharper than her dragon’s talons.
Is her tongue sharper thanyourtalons?Vorik replied silently.
Few humans had the gift of telepathy, so they couldn’t broadcast their thoughts, but dragons never seemed to have trouble reading Vorik’s mind and catching all his words. For dragons bonded to their riders, such communication was particularly easy.
Of course not. My talons are sharper than the lost swords of the gods. I tend them exquisitely to ensure their deadly edge.
Vorik had lost sight of Agrevlari and peered over the side of their perch. Fifty feet below, the magnificent green dragon floatedon his back in a pool formed by the curvature of the rock formation and protected from the surging waves, though a few splashes made their way to his belly and agitated the water around him. His eyes were closed, and he looked as content as a mountain lion sprawled on a sunny outcropping.
Is that what you’re doing now?Vorik asked.
Now, I’m letting the surf massage my muscles, which were taxed somewhat by all the twisting and diving I had to do to avoid cannonballs and harpoons, a task that I handled with great aplomb.
Yes, I recall. You flipped upside-down three times despite our previous agreement that you wouldn’t do that when I’m on your back, not unless you let me put a saddle on you.
Though Agrevlari didn’t roll over or otherwise move from his comfortable floating position, he did open one eye to gaze balefully up at Vorik.Only sycophantic lesser dragons allow such undignified contraptions to be buckled around them like chains. As a rider, it behooves you to have strong leg muscles with which to clamp on.
My leg muscles are exquisitely honed. However… I don’t know if you’ve checked yourself out in a mirror lately, but you’re a lot of dragon to clamp onto.
Like all riders, Vorik had to find the minuscule gaps between the scales of his mount to help hang on when a dragon’s flight grew erratic and involved barrel rolls, dives, and exuberant undulations. It was hisfingermuscles that were exquisite. When he was hanging on that way, he couldn’t fire his bow. Not that he was truly complaining. To be permitted to not only ride but bond with a dragon, and receive some of his power through their magical link, was the most wondrous honor there was.
I am a lot of dragon.Agrevlari sounded smug.
Captain Lesva’s blue dragon, Verikloth, landed on the far edge of the rock formation from the surly black, wings spread to come down lightly. Prematurely silver hair pulled back in a tight braidthat accented her prominent cheekbones and jaw, Lesva eyed Vorik before hopping down and saluting General Jhiton.
“I have the information from our spy, sir.” She reported to Jhiton, but she gave Vorik a sidelong look. “I stayed to obtain it, even after I slew two of the Moonmark Clan and helped Verikloth defeat the castle defenders and take down one of its towers.”
The brag was directed at Vorik; he had no doubt.
