Dragon Legends (Return of the Darkening Book 2) (16 page)

Kalax had caught us all, one in each claw, front and back. It was almost like when Kalax had chosen us as riders, picking us out of all the others in Torvald.

Like catching fish,
Kalax crowed. But I knew we were far from safe. We’d flown up out of the reach of the Wildmen’s arrows, but now we had black dragons swooping past Kalax. She roared at each one, warning them to keep a distance.

Reaching up, I hauled myself up onto Kalax’s back. She relaxed her grip enough on me for me to get back to where my saddle usually sat. Kalax tucked her front legs close to her chest, holding her human cargo next to dragon scales that were better than any armor.

The wind snatched at my shirt and leggings. I saw Thea’s hand come up from below—she was climbing up on Kalax’s neck, too—and I reached out to help her into her place right behind me. This time we were flying without saddles or harnesses. I’d done this before, but Thea hadn’t. And we didn’t even have bows or any other weapons.

Fly, Kalax, fly!

She responded with a powerful beat of her wings, tearing up into the night sky above the broken palace. Wrapping her arms around my middle, Thea rested her head on my shoulder. Her warmth felt comforting against my back, and I could have almost forgotten the danger we were in, were it not for black dragons whirling around us.

“How many?” Thea shouted.

I knew just how many—I could feel their wild fury. Wild dragons usually never left the north, but the Memory Stone could be used on them, too, to make them think they had to fight to defend themselves.

“Ten,” I called back. I had to cling to Kalax’s horns as she dove and turned—Thea and I weren’t gripped tightly in her claws.

The wild, black dragons were generally smaller than Kalax, but they were fast, able to turn like a bird, with short, powerful wings that made them look like crows. In the dark night, their black color gave them an advantage—they seemed to come out of nowhere, whirling past us. Glancing back, I saw one black dragon topple a tower at the palace with a strike of its tail. I feared with so many wild dragons loose, Torvald was doomed.

“Watch out!” Thea shouted, squeezing the breath out of me. A black dragon with the spikes on its head jutting out, roared as it fell from the night sky, its fore-claws stretched out to rake Kalax’s hide.

She turned and lashed out with her thicker tail—and with her spikes raised. The impact as Kalax hit the smaller dragon vibrated in my chest. Kalax roared at the other dragon as the black fell below us, catching and righting itself only at the last moment before it hit the ground.

There are too many,
I thought, throwing the thought to Kalax.

Kalax didn’t care about the numbers—she wanted to fight. I tried to show her the situation as I saw it—we had the king to think of, first. He must be safe—and we needed better weapons. With a frustrated war cry, Kalax beat her powerful wings rising up into the air. I could hear the beat of other dragon wings around us.

“Are we going to be able to outrun them?” Thea yelled. I felt her shift and knew she must be looking back at the flames behind us. The burning palace—and the flames from Torvald—lit the night sky now like dawn had come early. The wind smelled of smoke and destruction. I could hear the black dragons making screech-like, eerie calls to each other, and their wild fury beat at my mind, leaving me wanting to join Kalax in deciding to turn and fight back.

But I had taken an oath as a Dragon Rider—we had to protect the king.

And then I wanted to see to my family.

Pressing a hand on Kalax’s warm scales, I called out, “Kalax is the best flier in the skies.” It felt good to say that, and even better when Kalax sent me back approval for believing in her.

She puffed out a smoky breath, but suddenly pulled her wings tight. She started to plummet toward the ground. My heart banged against my ribs and wind tore tears from my eyes.

Were you hit?
I asked her.

She didn’t answer, but fell like a stone. The cries of two wild, black dragons followed us downward. At the last moment, Kalax twisted and turned, opening her wings, lifting her head and thumping the ground with her tail. She launched back up at the blacks. They tried to turn, but Kalax knocked into them, sending them twisting, and tumbling. Their wings tangled and they fell.

An almighty crash rose up behind us as the two black dragons smashed into the trees. I doubted that would be enough to kill any dragon—and I could already feel their groggy thoughts—but it might be enough to shake them out of their killing frenzy. They’d leave for the wilds again. Two down—how many more to go?

Kalax crowed at us as she skimmed over the treetops and headed for Dragon Mountain, and she thought at me,
Dragons defend now.

She was right.

Thea released one hand from my waist to point ahead at the walls and landing platforms of the academy. Signal flags were up—but I could also see that the top of one tower had been tumbled, and the map tower seemed nothing but a pillar of flames. My throat tightened. I hoped Merik hadn’t been up there like he usually was—and I thought of the loss of our maps. Merik would hate that.

“That’s why help hasn’t come to the palace,” Thea yelled.

With the squadrons gone, the only real defense for Torvald was the handful of riders and their dragons—but this second attack had kept them busy just trying to stay alive.

There weren’t just Wildmen at the front gates of the academy, but mercenaries from the Southern Realm like those we’d arrested as bandits. A dozen or more were pounding at the thick wood with axes. Thankfully, the gates held strong. But another group of twenty or more were dragging a log they’d cut down to use as a battering ram. Overhead, more black dragons screeched, their wings fanning the flames as they circled overhead.

Why aren’t the blacks attacking?
I thought, watching the wild dragons blot out the stars.

The Dragon Horns blew a deep, growling call and the clatter of a huge ratchet answered.

“The trebuchets,” Thea said. She breathed out the word, her mouth close to my ear. I had never seen these massive war machines in use—not even for practice. They had sat between the landing platforms, carved logs and metal that had seemed more like decorations that weapons. I remembered Commander Hegarty saying the trebuchets would only ever be used as a last resort for an aerial defense. And that was now – the time of last resort had come.

Someone had manned the machines, which cranked so loudly they could be heard over all other sounds. The trebuchets looked almost like vast angular mousetraps with an extending arm that swung out and up, flinging the contents of a sling on the far end. The first one made an odd whistling noise as it flew forward. A collection of stone blocks from the ruined towers flew into the air, out of the sling, and fell onto the mercenaries at the front gates. The wild, black dragons rose up, ducking out of the way of the flying blocks—now I knew why they didn’t want to attack the academy.

As the first trebuchet started to be drawn back, the second launched, throwing more debris into the air and over the walls. The mercenaries—those still on their feet—pulled back, but I there were still far too many enemies all about us.

“Seb—it’s Instructor Mordecai!”

I looked to where Thea was pointing and saw Instructor Mordecai limping between the trebuchets and the landing platforms. The firelight from the burning towers lit his bent form. I glimpsed Varla and Wil with him, their uniforms a flash of color in the smoky night. I had no idea where Merik, Jensen and the others were. With his cane, Mordecai batted away stray arrows shot up at him from below as if they were an annoying insect. For an instant, I feared he was trying to disable the trebuchets—that he had turned traitor. But no, he bent to help Varla ready the next trebuchet for launch.

“We were wrong about him,” Thea said, her voice soft in my ear.

“It doesn’t matter now,” I shouted. I urged Kalax to fly high, and then dive down to land in the practice yard. We couldn’t risk the king up on the landing platforms.

Merik, wearing a battered helmet, his metal armor and riding boots and pants, headed toward us. “Seb? Thea!” He sounded relieved, angry and scared at all once. “We thought you were trapped at the palace. They came at us before we could call the dragons.”

I slid from Kalax and put a hand on the side of her head.
Just a little longer, and then we fight.

She approved that idea.

Sitting up a little, Kalax opened her front claws and gently settled the king and Lady Flamma onto the ground. Merik’s eyes budged. The king lay still and I wondered if he had fainted, but Lady Flamma gasped, stood and immediately stumbled over to the king. “No…no, it cannot be. The king is wounded.”

I shook my head. “Kalax would never let that happen.”

Thea knelt next to the king’s side. She glanced up at me, her face pale. Smoke streaked her legs under her tattered dress. She looked a lot more like a peasant than a noble right now.

Kalax sent me a thought.
Hurt before caught.

I stepped closer. For a moment, I could see nothing, but then I notice the blood on the king’s upper thigh. Thea pulled back his robes. The broken stub of one of the Wildman’s arrows jutted out from the King Durance’s upper thigh.

“Just before Kalax caught the king he screamed. One of the Wildmen must have shot him,” I said.

“What do we do?” Merik said.

Ripping off her sleeves, Lady Flamma used them to tie the arrow in place. “He’ll bleed to death if we pull this out.”

“Instructor Mordecai,” I muttered. Turning to Merik, I said, “Get Mordecai and do it now.” Turning to Thea, I told her, “We need to take the king to Mordecai’s study. He knows how to heal—and let’s just hope the Healing Stone is still here.”

Thea nodded. She took the king’s legs, and I lifted his shoulders. The short cape the king had on kept getting in the way, so I yanked it off and tried again. With Lady Flamma’s help, we got the king up and into the keep.

We moved as fast as we dared. The king groaned with every step and every shift of weight, but he didn’t seem aware of what was happening around him. Inside the keep, the noise of battle lessened, but the air was thick with the smoke. I started to cough. At last, we reached Mordecai’s study. The door stood open and the smell of spices seemed a relief from everything else.

Lady Flamma at once cleared a low couch and we eased the king onto it. Blood had soaked his leggings and part of his shirt. His face seemed far too pale, but his eyelids were fluttering as if he wanted to open his eyes, and he wet his lips with his tongue and asked for water.

Lady Flamma at once moved to seek out a flagon for the king.

I edged closer to Thea. “Go. Change. You’re going to need battle-dress.”

“And you’re not?” she said. But she gave a last glance at her mother’s pale face and left. She came back faster than I would have thought she could, looking ready to ride in leathers and armor. She also had an armful of my gear, and swords for both of us. “Dress,” she said.

I nodded and stepped back into the shadows to pull on my leathers over the serving clothes I’d borrowed from the palace kitchens. In a party, no one minds two extra hands. Now I wished we had a dozen more hands here to help us.

As I buckled my sword belt on, Thea and her mother were left to deal with the king, who seemed to be restless now and wanting to sit up. Thea had dragged her hair back from her face—she looked a Dragon Rider again. I had nothing better to do than fold my arms and wish that Merik and Mordecai would hurry.

Kalax thought at me that it we, too, needed to be in the air. I asked her to wait for just a few more moments.

Mordecai—smelling of smoke and sweat—burst into the room, a staff in one hand and a sword in the other. He seemed changed. His eyes glittered bright as the fires from the map tower, but he moved like a young man now, hardly limping and his back straighter than ever I’d seen.

“Give me room,” he barked at us.

I glanced behind him, but didn’t see Merik, so Mordecai must have left Merik to help with the trebuchets.

Hearing that harsh tones of the instructors was almost a relief—if Mordecai could order us about, at least a few things were still right in this world.

Putting down his sword and staff, Mordecai glanced around the room once then pushed up his sleeves. “Clean bandages—third shelf on the right, Flamma. No, your mother, not you. And hot water from down the hall, Smith. You, Flamma—no, now I want the younger one—find the valerian, woundwort, turmeric, comfrey and sage. Roots of the hellebore, tincture of poppy. Move!”

No one argued. Lady Flamma hurried from where she had been soothing the king’s face with a perfumed handkerchief to fetch the bandages. Thea turned to the racks of spices and herbs and began to pile them in her arms. I grabbed a bucket and went for water—if the kitchens still stood.

It was a relief to run out of a room that had begun to smell of blood—I feared for the king. My hands were shaking and so was my stomach as I hurried to the kitchens. A copper pot was always left on the first—it was no different today. But the rest of the kitchen looked a shambles, and I hoped Margaret had fled to safety. Worry for her tightened my chest, but I had to get back to the king.