ã€ŠLearning to Fallã€‹


 Chapter 1: We Will Go

    With every beat of massive crimson wings, the walls of the Luffin Keep receded into the distance. Crates and bags hung from a web of rope secured to the red dragon''s leather harness, but if the extra weight bothered him then it wasn''t apparent. The fourteen silvery-white dragonettes crawling around his back certainly weren''t a burden. They moved with a purpose, checking lines and adjusting cargo.

    All except for one.

    A single smaller dragonette sat to the rear, staring back the way they had come.

    It was far from the first time he had seen his keep from above. Dragonettes were as much at home in the sky as they were on the ground, after all. Nor was even the first time he had seen it from dragonback, although he could count those times on one taloned hand.

    Still, this time was different.

    His green, slitted eyes went unfocused, turning the keep into little more than a light orange blob atop a scrub-covered hill.

    Below, well-tended fields gave way to savannah, dotted by patches of trees and the occasional herd of indistinct animals grazing on the tough grass.

    It wasn''t a majestic view by any stretch of the imagination. There weren''t any towering mountains or groves of enormous heaven oaks. Those were for other islands further north.

    ''I guess I''ll be seeing those soon,'' he mused. ''But they won''t be home.''

    Voices picked up from the rest of the crew, but he ignored them. And when something blue and white streaked over them, he never saw it.

    That streak dove and twisted, changing direction and trading altitude for speed in one smooth maneuver. That put the dragonette flying just above and behind the much larger dragon. A few fast, powerful wing beats and she was directly above the oblivious passenger.

    "Hey!" She shouted above the whistling airstream. "Hey Tintin! Move over!"

    The small dragonette in the rear jerked and looked up to the flier, then twisted towards the dragon''s crew. One - a female with golden hoops through her ears - jerked her snout up in approval. Permission obtained, he shifted over and motioned for the newcomer to land.

    Her taloned feet dug into the Leather harness that criss-crossed the dragon''s back as she alighted with barely a wobble. Then she gave a grin that showed a mouthful of pointy teeth. "You thought you were going to escape without saying goodbye, didn''t you Tintin?"

    She had to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of the wind and the dragon''s wingbeats, but privacy was the least of her concerns. Quite the opposite, really, and her companion ground his pointed teeth together in embarrassment.

    "I told you to stop calling me that. Is Aytin so hard for you to remember?"

    "Sure... Tintin."

    He hissed in annoyance. "Fine. Next time I''m back at the keep I''ll make sure all the other huntresses know they can call you Linlin. How about that Linlin? It is your name, right?"

    Her eyeridges narrowed. "You wouldn''t."

    "I hear greenhorns get teased even worse than trainees. Oh, maybe I can tell them the story about the time you-"

    "Fine! You''re Aytin. Happy?"

    "Sure... Erdalin." At a raised fist, he held up both hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, Lin."

    "Good." She gave a firm nod. Then grabbed Aytin in a crushing embrace. "I''m going to miss you, bro." She said as she rubbed her snout against his.

    "Me¡­ too¡­ sis¡­" He gasped out in between breaths.

    Even nearly three years older, Aytin was half a head shorter and quite a bit lighter than his sister. Her rib-bruising hug only served to demonstrate that the weight difference was all muscle.

    But he took the punishment without complaint. And when it finally ended, he showed half his teeth in a crooked smile.

    "I''m sorry we couldn''t wait for you. Reed," he jerked his snout towards the female in charge, "said we had to leave as soon as Faelon was loaded. And you were out on patrol, and no one knew when you would be back, so..." He trailed off and raised one wing in a shrug.

    Instead of answering, Lin flicked his left horn, right where it twisted sideways at the end.

    "Hey, stop that!" He waved ineffectually. She ignored the protests, and just reached around with her other hand while he was distracted and flicked him again.

    "What''s that for?"

    "For not finding some way to slow them down. You''re either dumber than I thought, or you don''t really love me. Either way, I should just take your present and sell it to the next trader that comes through the keep."

    "What? Oh, you little brat!"

    "Not so little anymore," she said, her toothy grin on display once again.

    "Still a brat."

    She didn''t say anything in reply, only stared at him.

    "Look, you know how mom and dad paid a lot to hire Faelon and Reed and the crew."

    "Not enough, if you ask me," one of the dragonettes called out, just loudly enough to be heard. Aytin''s scathing look was met with laughter until Reed''s glare sent them back to work.

    "Anyway," Aytin continued a little more quietly, "they paid a lot so I could go help Uncle Cork in the capital. I didn''t want to ruin it. I couldn''t. Even for you."

    "Fiiiine," Lin hissed. She pulled a cloth wrapped bundle out of a bag on her belt and offered it over. "For you."

    Aytin took the gift and carefully unwrapped it, then gasped in surprise at what he found. "Where did you get this?"

    "Made it! With a little help from Suuie in the forge, but the rest was me. And it''s all from the island. Every bit, except for the tin in the bronze." When her brother stayed silent, her ears drooped slightly and she asked a bit hesitantly, "Do you like it?"

    "It''s beautiful." He withdrew the bronze dagger from its sheath and held it up to catch the sun.

    The blade was a monolithic design, the leather wrapped handle and razor sharp edge all hammered from the same piece of native metal. An oval of polished turquoise shone the same soft blue as a dragonette''s wings from its mounting on the base. The handle fit the young dragonette''s hand almost like it was made for it.

    Which by all accounts, it was.

    Aytin carefully slipped the knife back into its horn-lined leather sheath, then secured it to his own belt. For all of its beauty, the blade was obviously functional and it would be a crying shame not to use it. "I love it. Thank you, Lin."

    "Yeah, well, remember us when you use it. Don''t forget where you came from."

    "Or where you ought to be getting back to," one of the crew said, pointing downwards.

    Far below, the island ended in a sheer cliff. Mist and cloud obscured almost everything underneath in swirling gray.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    Through it all, Aytin thought he could just barely glimpse the world-spanning ocean far above which the islands floated. That brief look into hell was enough to send a shiver running from the ends of his wings to the tip of his tail.

    It wasn''t the prospect of falling that woke a primal fear in him. With wings, heights would never hold any danger to him. But to see the wet hell, even from perfect safety, was enough to set his heart beating just a little faster.

    "You might be right," Lin said, voice a little distant as she stared down as well. Then she rustled her wings and shook her head back and forth. "Take care, bro. Don''t forget us when you''re having fun drinking cider and eating honey bread in the capital."

    "And don''t forget me when they make you a gilded huntress and put you in charge of the whole damn keep." This time Aytin wrapped his sister up in a hug. "I love you, Lin."

    "Love you, too, Tin." She gave his snout a nuzzle and then he reluctantly let her go. With a final wave and a sad smile, Lin flared her wings and let the wind pull her off the dragon and back in the direction of home.

    Aytin watched for several minutes, until her speck disappeared into the distance.

    A hand fell onto his shoulder. "Come on, kid, cheer up." Aytin looked up to see the same dragonette who had spoken before. An older crewmember who he had yet to meet. "It will all still be there when you get back."

    "I guess. I''ve never been more than a few days flight away from the keep before." He turned around and had to crane his neck to look the other dragonette in the eye. She was on the tall side, even for a female.

    She grinned in response. "Very few ever get the chance to leave where they grew up. We''re the lucky ones. Now come on, there''s work to do." She turned and started forward.

    "But I''m a passenger," Aytin protested. He still followed.

    "Being a passenger is boring. Wouldn''t you rather be crew?"

    He thought for a moment. "Does that mean I get paid a share?"

    Every dragonette in earshot burst out laughing. Even Reed stopped what she was doing to call back, "Be careful Xantha, I think he''s angling for your spot. How are you at navigation, kid?"

    "He might be audacious enough, but you know perfectly well I''m irreplaceable," the dragonette next to Aytin - apparently named Xantha - said with a sniff and snout pointed haughtily in the air.

    "Hey! I''m good at plenty of things," Aytin protested.

    "Then help out, and I''ll buy you an ale at our next stop. Or you can stare out into the ocean until you go mad. It''s your choice."

    He didn''t have to think long. "What do you want me to do?"

    "First of all, how are you with knots?"

    "Uh, pretty good."

    "Show me." She held out a rope.

    As Aytin took it, he noticed a wide patch of scales on her left forearm were lighter than her right.

    She caught his stare and grimaced. "Old burn."

    Before he could think better of it, Aytin blurted out, "Does it hurt?"

    Her demeanor shifted, the lighthearted comradery draining away. Aytin was beginning to shift uncomfortably when she finally replied, "Only the memories."

    "Sorry," he mumbled, looking down at the rope in his hands.

    "Don''t mention it," she said. "Seriously, don''t. Anyway," the older dragonette continued, forcing the darkness out of her voice, "knots. That trunk needs another line securing it. Let''s see what you can do."

    The trunk in question was painted deep blue and heavy, no doubt full of supplies or trade goods for the weeks-long journey.

    Thankfully, Aytin hadn''t been lying about knowing his knotwork. He resolved to show Xantha exactly what he could do.

    After making a quick double twist, he threaded the line through a handle, and then back along the path of the twist. A hard tug assured him that the knot was snug. Then he repeated the process with the other end of the line, securing it to the netting that crisscrossed the dragon''s back.

    "You know the rewoven double-twist knot. Fancy," Xantha said, nodding in approval.

    Before he could reply, she put one foot on the chest and pushed it over the side. The line went taunt and Aytin held his breath, but the knots held.

    "Relax, I saw you tie them. You did fine. Now, I need you to get a couple more lines on that. It doesn''t need to be quite this strong." She kicked the recently tied knot securing the line to the cargo web. "Only enough to keep it from bouncing around and bruising Faelon''s tender hide. Then you can help me inventory some of this cargo."

    Hours later the sun was high in the sky and Aytin was still busy hunting down odds and ends that the manifest insisted should be there. There didn''t seem to be any rhyme or reason to where the various crates and bundles were tied up. A crate of metal ingots hung next to bundles of pelts and a set of forging tools was tied up to a cask filled with carefully packed medicines.

    But from all of the hints the crew had given him, the young dragonette had a feeling that the traders knew exactly where everything was hidden. He had talked to the entire crew at one point or another, trying to hunt down this or that. He had a feeling that had been the whole point of Xantha''s assignments. They weren''t just random faces anymore.

    And he wasn''t just a passenger.

    "Hey Tin, are you busy?"

    "Uh, just finishing, actually." Aytin finished checking the line around a barrel of ale. It thrummed slightly as he plucked it. "Did you need something, Bush?"

    "Yeah, it''s actually kind of important." The crew member leaned close, almost conspiratorially. "You know that Faelon got hurt on our way into your keep?"

    "What?"

    "Relax. Dragons heal fast, and we wouldn''t be flying if it wasn''t safe. But Faelon, he''s stubborn. He''ll push himself too hard if we don''t watch out for him. Reed would rather we land a little early if we need to instead of waiting an extra day if he sprains a wing."

    Aytin nodded. "That makes sense, I guess. But what does that have to do with me?"

    "If he''s actually hurting, his wings will get off-beat. Just a little. It''s hard to tell from watching, but one side will flap just a little faster than the other."

    "What? That doesn''t-"

    "Trust me. Have you ever worked with a dragon before?"

    "No..."

    "All you need to do is watch Faelon''s left wing and count the number of beats," Bush said, pointing. "I''ll do the same for the right and we''ll compare in a bit. Got it?"

    Aytin nodded hesitantly.

    "Good. Now, on the down beat... there!"

    ''One... two... three...''

    It was monotonous work. After the first hundred he had to struggle to keep his eyes on the dark red wings as they almost seemed to blur.

    ''Three-hundred and twenty-''

    "What are you doing, Tin?"

    Xantha''s sudden words startled the young dragonette. "Counting Faelon''s wing beats," he replied, and blinked as his concentration waivered. "Oh, shit, did I miss one?"

    "Why are you... oh" Her question trailed off into a snort of amusement as she noticed Bush watching from nearby. A handful of other crew members were casting looks their way, and fighting to keep their expressions straight and failing to do so.

    It only took a moment before Aytin realized what had happened, and his ears pinned back in embarrassment.

    "Oh, relax," Xantha said, giving him a pat on the back. "Bush is still upset that he spent a whole day looking for a jug of midnight oil. Aren''t you?" She added the last loud enough that the young crew member could hear over the wind.

    "You weren''t even here for that!" Bush shouted as the rest of the crew burst out laughing.

    "Still happened!"

    "Alright, enough of that," Reed called out. "Xana, how about you and your new assistant want to break out a snack for the rest of us?"

    "Sure thing, boss. Hey, Tin, go and grab the rations. I need to stow this first." She motioned to the small, leather case she was carrying. It was a little out of place on the back of a dragon, but traders accumulated some odd things in their travels.

    "They were in the blue trunk, right? The first one?" Aytin confirmed.

    "Yeah, that''s the one."

    "Okay, I''ll get it."

    The trunk was easy enough to find. It did feel even heavier than before when he dragged it up top. A morning moving around cargo had left his arms more than a little tired. But he managed it. The knot was a different story.

    He could hear Xantha saying something about the weather to Reed, but ignored the conversation. The complex twists of rope took all of his concentration. He was still working on untangling them when Xantha wandered over a minute later.

    "Having trouble?" she asked.

    Aytin didn''t notice the hint of amusement in her tone, clear even over the whistle of the wind. He was too busy trying to work the end of the knot free. The coils had bound together in twists too tight to even get a talon into.

    "It''s stuck!" he snarled in disgust.

    "Yeah, that happens when you hang things off of rewoven double-twists. It''s why dragon crews almost never use them," she said, just a little too casually.

    The young dragonette looked up slowly from his attempts and stared at Xantha''s carefully blank face. Then he looked at the rest of the cargo. Sure enough, the knots securing them were in a completely different style.

    "Why didn''t you tell me?" Aytin asked, sounding not a little betrayed.

    "Oh, you told me you were pretty good with knots. I thought you just enjoyed a challenge."

    He let loose a hiss of frustration. "I must have tied twenty of these today!"

    "And retying them will give you plenty of practice with the hitch knot and dragon line. But first..."

    She splashed the contents of a waterskin on the knot. Wind sent most of it spraying away, but enough stayed put to saturate the rope. She waited a few moments, and then dug a talon into the mess. It came apart without any trouble.

    "Food."

 Chapter 2: New Horizons

    A trader''s arrival was always a time of frantic excitement in an out of the way keep, and this was no exception. Dragonettes hurried back and forth with bundles and packages. Reed held court like some high noble, bartering for the bounty that they had brought.

    But not everyone was involved in the trade negotiations. A pair of younger dragonettes had staked out a corner of the greeting hall and were deep in conversation.

    "And so now I have no chance with your cousin! None! Not stuck all the way out in the capital."

    "Come on Aytin, you never had a chance with Nyssa, and you know it. Maybe if you visited more than once every few years, but noooo. A day on dragonback is too much for you."

    "I had more of a chance than you had with Zara. You were following her around like she was giving out honey last time you visited our keep."

    "Hey, that was two years ago. Back when I was small and scrawny like you." Korbin flexed an arm and Aytin had to admit there was some respectable muscle there. Between that and the late growth spurt that put him on the tall side for a male, he could definitely turn some heads.

    The pair didn''t get to see each other often. Their keeps might be on neighboring islands, but that was still far enough to prevent casual visits. Despite that, once Faelon landed they hadn''t wasted any time in getting reacquainted.

    "And you have to admit that your sister is pretty amazing." Korbin continued, grinning at his friend''s expression.

    Aytin wasn''t going to take the jab lying down. "You know what Zara said when you left?"

    "I bet she couldn''t stop talking about how great I was," he replied, a shit eating grin plastered across his face.

    "She said you were cute, and she wished she could have a little brother like you."

    "What?! And you didn''t say anything?"

    "Of course I did. I told her how much you loved your needlework and how you wanted to know what her favorite flower was so you could embroider it on a handkerchief for her."

    "One time. One fucking time I sew up your shirt for you, and that''s all you ever seem to remember. Not the time I caught two ducks on the wing. Or the time I flew through that canyon at full speed without a scratch. Or nailed that target with a spear from thirty paces. But you always go back to the sewing thing!"

    "Well," Aytin said, "I might have also mentioned how much you love cooking. I remember when you tried to show me how to make oat cakes."

    "Some friend you are," Korbin muttered in mock outrage. "I should have my parents kick you out of our keep."

    "Nah, I''m part of the crew now. Reed would stop you."

    "I''d stop Korbin from doing what, exactly?"

    Both young dragonettes turned to see the trader in question looking on, ears flicked up in curiosity and a small smile on her face. The trade negotiations appeared to be over, and the crowd around Faelon''s cargo was thinning.

    "That you wouldn''t let throw out a member of your crew just for pointing out that he''s useless with girls," Aytin said, quick to get his side of the story out first.

    Reed''s smile grew. "Most certainly not. Us traders have to stick together. But... sometimes accommodations can be made for a particularly lucrative customer. And the Alraks certainly qualify."

    "I''d accept him sleeping in the stables with the oxen, but nothing less," Korbin declared, with magnanimity.

    "I''m not sleeping with the livestock. Someone of my high noble birth has standards." His imperious declaration was spoiled by his friend''s mocking laugh.

    Reed smiled, but shook her head at their antics. "I actually had something else in mind. How would you like to earn a few silver, Tin?"

    "You have a job? For me?"

    "A bit of a day trip. I think I can talk young master Korbin here down from his blood feud if you''re out from underfoot for a few hours." She added the last with an ironic flick of the ears, before turning to business. "Anyway, you know about the Alraks'' new mine, right?"

    Aytin nodded. "They found silver ore veins in the edge of the island, right?"

    "And lead and quicksilver, too," Korbin interjected.

    "Yes. And it''s potentially very productive. So much so that Lady Alrak has hired us to carry a proposal to the mining guild. They want them to send representatives to evaluate it for investment."

    Aytin hadn''t heard about that. It could be a big deal. The Alrak Keep was reasonably sized for this part of the frontier with a little over thirty residents. It was nothing as big as the Luffins'' but some investment and a generation of growth could change that.

    "That''s great for them, but what does it have to do with me?"

    "Well, I''m sending Faelon out with Bush and a few guards to carry a load of mining tools out to the camp. I''d like you to accompany them. I''ve done this sort of job for guilds before, and they appreciate someone with first hand knowledge to answer questions. I figured that since your family owns a copper mine, you would be perfect for the job."

    Aytin hesitated. "It''s not exactly the same thing..." He didn''t want to go into how his family''s mine was different from the traditional shafts drilled into the sides of islands.

    "I understand. But you are still the closest thing to an expert I have. So what do you say to ten silver for the trip, and another five if you end up answering any questions for the guild?"

    The young dragonette didn''t even pause to consider. "Fifteen and seven."

    "Ha! Twelve and seven," Reed countered with a grin. "Final offer."

    "Deal."

    Soon enough, Aytin found himself on Faelon''s back along with an abbreviated crew. With only a pair of crates to weigh him down, the dragon was making excellent time. They would reach the mining camp and return well before dark.

    The island fell away into clouded mists off to their right. No one in the party had ever visited the newly constructed mining camp, so they were following the edge of the island to their destination.

    "We''re almost there!" Bush shouted over the airstream.

    Faelon''s snort sent everyone scrambling for hand holds.

    "That''s the third time you''ve said that!" Voxin yelled back. She was a tall, solidly built dragonette and the leader of both the trio of guards on this jaunt and the guard contingent as a whole.

    "That jutting cliff with the three dark bands on it. Lady Alrak told me to look for it."

    Aytin squinted ahead, picking out the landmark in question. "I count four stripes."

    "No, that''s just a shadow." Bush sounded utterly confident. "There are only three."

    "There are four." Faelon''s interjection took the wind out from under Bush''s wings. It took magic or a spyglass to match a dragon''s eyesight.

    Sure enough, beyond the point there was only more scrub brush and tall grass waving in the wind.

    After that, Bush retreated towards the rear of the dragon. He had a small bag secured there and he busied himself going through its contents.

    Voxin caught Aytin''s eye and gave him a look, before jerking her head towards the young crew member.

    Despite the hazing attempt, Bush wasn''t a bad guy. He''d even told Aytin that he looked forward to seeing how the younger dragonette got back at him.

    But Bush didn''t quite fit into a normal role among the crew. He filled a lot of the roles of an able hand aboard Faelon, but it was clear he was more of Reed''s apprentice than anything else. Maybe more than that if their similar features were anything to go on, but neither had volunteered anything on that front.

    He was also a lot closer to Aytin''s age than anyone else on the crew. Only a few years older in fact, although he had apparently spent most of those in the capital.

    Aytin caught the suggestion in Voxin''s pointed glance. With a shrug, he ventured over to sit down next to the apprentice trader.

    "What are those?" he asked, indicating the stoppered vials and tools in a leather bundle.

    Bush turned and blinked, not having noticed the other dragonette''s approach over the sound of the airstream.

    "It''s a test for metal purity," he replied after a moment. "We''re getting paid in some of the mine''s product and we can''t let them try to pass off a cheap alloy as the real thing."

    Aytin was vaguely familiar with the process. His family did something similar to the copper their mines produced. So did the traders who came to pick up the ingots.

    There were some dragonettes who could tell exactly what a thing was made out of with nothing but a touch, but that was an incredibly rare form of magic. Most relied on alchemical processes to test their metals.

    Nonetheless, it didn''t stop him from asking for details.

    "You scrape a little bit of metal on this stone," Bush explained, indicating a flat, black stone. "Then add a few drops of these alchemical solutions to it. If there''s anything left, it means whatever you''re testing for is there."

    The young crew member began to get more animated as he pulled out a vial marked with odd symbols. "Whatever color is left over also helps you figure out how pure it is. Between that and some tricks with a scale and a cup of water, you can at least keep from getting scammed."

    "Does that happen often?" Aytin asked.

    Bush shrugged. "According to my- according to Reed, it happens more often than you''d think. But usually not on purpose. Most of the time someone gets conned into buying a fake while visiting the city. Then times get tough and they try to sell it. But keeps are usually smart enough not to try and scam the people you depend on for supplies. I bet you already knew that though, huh?"

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    "It''s usually a bad idea, yeah," Aytin agreed. "So it sounds like you''re mostly trying to see how they''re doing here? Reed told me that you''re carrying back a message to the mining guild, so this is more information for them?"

    "Yup," Bush said, giving a small smile. "And she told me that''s what you''re here to do, too."

    Aytin nodded. "For whatever it''s worth. I''m not an expert and the mines here are a lot different than the one my family owns."

    "How''s that? I thought one mine was the same as another." The apprentice sounded genuinely interested, and Aytin had to think for a second to come up with an explanation.

    "Is a trade group on contract to ferry construction supplies to some frontier fort the same as one like yours who flies from island to island trading supplies?"

    "I guess not," Bush admitted.

    "It''s the same thing with mines. Most of them, you just cut into the side of an island because that''s where the ore is. But my family got lucky a few generations back when we were quarrying stone to expand the keep. They hit a huge vein of really pure copper in the hill.

    "But I never really did that much work down there. I just know what I picked up during dinner conversation and stuff. Plus it''s copper and this is silver, which has got to be different to refine. So I have no idea if I''m going to be any good here."

    Bush flicked his ears and gave a wry smile. "There''s plenty of that going around."

    Before either could go on, Voxin called back. "I think I see the camp!"

    The pair scrambled to look, and sure enough, a collection of tents and a few rough structures were coming into view. Further below, Aytin could just make out a cluster of openings in the cliffside. He had no doubt they were the entrances to mine itself.

    When Faelon landed, they were met by a half dozen dragonettes led by a female nearly as short as Aytin. But she had a barrel chest and arms like tree trunks. Her voice boomed as she introduced herself as Lunaire, the foreman of the operation.

    "We''re damn happy to finally see y''all out here," she said as the rest of her crew started tearing into the crates of tools with enthusiasm. "We were down to our last drill and most of what we''ve got wasn''t meant for mining. While Grendon''s a fine smith, there''s only so much he can do, and only so much steel for him to do it with."

    "Well, it was tough, but we managed to get everything on your list," Bush said. He sounded just like Reed did at the end of a successful sale.

    "Boy, this isn''t half of what we need. Not even a tenth! What I need right now are another twenty bodies, a pile of gear, and a dragon or two. Speaking of, it''s Faelon, right?" the mine foreman asked, turning to address the so far disinterested dragon.

    Faelon shifted his long neck to regard the much smaller dragonette. It was a rather intimidating display, but Lunaire didn''t so much as flick an ear.

    "How would you like to earn a nice chunk of silver for less than an hour''s work?" she asked with a smile to rival Reed''s best bargaining grin.

    Faelon considered her words before replying, "I''m listening."

    "Well..." Lunaire drawled, clearly enjoying herself. "You see, we do a lot of our mining with fire-setting. You know, build a fire, let it go until the rock''s good and hot, then quench it fast."

    She paused to make sure the dragon was following. When he remained silent, she pushed on with a shrug. "But the only fuel we have is a small vein of coal, and that''s a good fifteen minute flight away. You need a lot to get the rock hot enough to crack, too. So we were thinking that since the main shaft should be just big enough for you to-"

    "No."

    Lunaire''s face fell at the single word reply. She recovered quickly though. "Come on, I can promise you-"

    "I said no," the dragon cut her off once again. His tone was so sharp that everyone in earshot took an involuntary step back.

    "But, I mean, we could really use..." Lunaire''s flustered pleas tapered off when Faelon fixed her with a stare that could have drilled straight through the island.

    The only sound was the stiff breeze. Even the miners had stopped their unpacking to stare. Absolutely no one wanted to piss off a red dragon and Faelon seemed uninterested in elaborating.

    "Could- could you use flash powder?"

    Everyone turned to Aytin.

    For his part, the young dragonette wasn''t a stranger to attention. He was the son of a noble, after all. But he nearly shrank back from the collective gazes of traders, minders, and an annoyed red dragon.

    Still, he managed to keep himself together and continued. "Back at home, in Luffin Keep, we do the same sort of mining. And there aren''t many trees there, either. So we buy a lot of flash powder, and mix it with oil to heat tunnel walls. It sticks and burns and does a lot better job than a normal fire. I know we bought the makings of some from Faelon before he left, so..."

    Aytin trailed off, but Lunaire was nodding vigorously. "We could make that work. If you''re, uh, willing to sell us the main ingredient." She directed that last towards Faelon.

    Not only could red dragons breathe fire, they could produce a viscous liquid that dried into an extremely flammable powder. It wasn''t anywhere near as volatile as a blue dragon''s blitz gel, but many crews were still wary of transporting large quantities of the stuff.

    Faelon, though, could make his own.

    "Do you know how to handle it?" the red dragon asked.

    One of the miners nodded. "I''ve used flash powder before. Even made it myself. We''ll be careful."

    Lunaire sent someone off to fetch several small casks while she haggled over the cost. She quickly regained her cheerful demeanor, and they settled on a bar of bullion worth about twenty-five silver. In exchange, they would get as much spit as Faelon could provide and a few pointers on processing it. That turned out to be about a cask worth, split between six containers.

    The miners would have to carefully dry it in order to produce the flash powder, but by the looks of it they would have enough to last quite a while. Even longer if the new tools made as much a difference as they seemed to hope. It wouldn''t be quite as good as having a full grown dragon in the mines, but it was the next best thing.

    Aytin and Bush both accepted invitations to tour the facilities, accompanied by Voxin. She had the other two guards remain with Faelon while Lunaire showed them around their smelting setup and blacksmith''s forge.

    To Aytin''s eye, most of the smelting equipment looked repurposed or cobbled together from whatever was available. It certainly couldn''t hold a candle to the setup at the Luffin mines.

    But for all its rough appearance, it was definitely functional. He said as much, although he was careful to phrase it in much more diplomatic terms.

    "Yep," the foreman agreed. "It ain''t fancy. We''re really just scrambling to put something together and prove we can." She looked pointedly at Bush.

    The apprentice trader had only just returned from testing the silver that made up the bulk of their payment. He had managed to keep any expression off of his face when questioned, but he had been just a little too quick when he had pronounced the purity as "Acceptable."

    They continued the tour, taking a quick flight to a landing platform built into the cliff face. The tunnel it led to was wide, but when Lunaire had said it was big enough for Faelon, she was stretching the truth. It would have been uncomfortably cramped at the very least.

    The shaft was dim, even with the oil lanterns each of them carried. It seemed stable, though, and there were wooden braces spaced regularly throughout the tunnel.

    There were also narrow openings to one side every dozen paces or so. When Aytin squeezed through one to take a look beyond, he found a narrow, parallel shaft.

    Lunaire was happy to explain its purpose when he asked. "You noticed the breeze up top, right? It''s more or less constant, so we use it for ventilation. There''s a windscreen in front of the other shaft, so the breeze blows down this one, through the cross vents, and out the other. Feel the draft?" Aytin nodded, along with Bush and Voxin. "Well, if we''ve got a fire going, we''ll block all the vents but the one closest to the end. It helps stoke the fire and carries off the smoke."

    "We use vertical shafts for ventilation back home," Aytin said. "But I guess you can''t do that so far underground."

    Their guide''s shrug was almost invisible in the dark. "Eventually we might have to run more vents back to the edge. Especially if the vein curves and blocks the wind. But it works fine for now."

    By that point they had reached the end of the shaft and turned around. The tour had been short, but it was a small mine.

    "What''s that?" Bush asked as they emerged into the sunlight once again.

    "That''s our ore lift," Lunaire replied. "Flying with buckets full of rock got old, fast."

    "Huh," Bush said, eyeing the wooden platform full of rubble, and then letting his gaze follow the ropes up to the cliff top. "Does anyone ever ride it?"

    "From time to time," their guide said with a small smile. "Why? Your wings tired?"

    "As a matter of fact, they are."

    "That''s what happens when you spend all your time riding on dragonback and never bothering to fly yourself anywhere," Aytin quipped.

    Bush shot him a glare but then grinned. "That''s too much work. Come on, Tin, let''s ride in style." He hopped up on the pile of ore and motioned for Aytin to join him.

    The slight sway of the platform and the way it creaked slightly with every swing didn''t exactly inspire confidence, but it wasn''t like they were in any danger from falling. Aytin only hesitated for a moment before jumping on.

    "Anyone else? Voxin?"

    "Not a chance, Bush," the guard captain said, shaking her head. "Unlike you, I''m not afraid of a little exercise." With a running start, she unfurled her wings and took off into the sky.

    "Coward!" Bush called after her. She only made a rude gesture in response as she circled nearby.

    Lunaire took a moment to untie a pair of ropes securing the lift to the landing platform. The swaying immediately intensified.

    "Alright, boys, stay put down here and I''ll go release the brakes. Probably ought to sit yourselves down, too, since the ride can get pretty bumpy."

    Aytin was about to take her advice, but Bush only grabbed one of the ropes. Lunaire only shrugged as Aytin braced himself against the rocking.

    The pair shared the open mouthed grins of the young and invincible as she leapt into the sky.

    A thought occurred to Aytin and he released the rope, deliberately crossing both hands across his chest.

    Bush''s smile faltered slightly. But not to be outdone, he assumed a similar nonchalant posture.

    Before either one of them could do any more posturing the lift jolted upwards. The sudden acceleration sent them both stumbling.

    Aytin instinctively reached for the rope but checked himself at the last moment. Bush had actually grabbed it before realizing his mistake and snatching his hand back like he''d just touched a sizzling pan.

    They rose at a fair clip. Above them another wooden platform descended. This one was packed with tailings from the refining process to act as a counterweight.

    Perhaps a little too packed. The other lift passed in a blur. They might not be going as fast as a dragonette in level flight, but they were ascending faster than most could match on a long climb.

    Then whoever was up top applied the brakes and they both went weightless.

    As the lift seemed to bounce, the load of ore shifted under their feet. Aytin stumbled, only barely managing to keep his balance. But it proved too much for Bush.

    The cocky young apprentice trader fell backwards, arms windmilling and wings extended for balance. It wasn''t enough and Bush disappeared over the edge.

    Aytin scrambled to catch a glimpse of his fallen companion

    He needn''t have bothered. The stream of curses was audible well before he caught sight of the other dragonette.

    "I told ya to sit your asses down, didn''t I?" Lunaire shouted down from the cliffside.

    The target of Bush''s curses shifted from the elevator to a certain mine foreman and everyone in earshot shared a laugh.

    A hint of a smirk was visible on Aytin''s face as Bush landed. He never said a word, but Bush rolled his eyes at him. "It was bad luck, pure and simple."

    "Yep," Aytin agreed. His self-satisfied smile didn''t waiver.

    After a long glare, Bush''s expression shifted into a grin. "What the hells? It was still worth it."

    The two shared a laugh. Then they immediately started talking about doing it again.

    Time was short, though. They needed to get back to the Alrak Keep for dinner and the miners had to finish the day''s work.

    So with the sun still high in the sky, they bid their farewells and Faelon lifted off.

    "What did you think," Bush asked once they were airborne.

    Aytin gave it some thought, going over the mental notes he had made during their tour. "I think they have a good thing going."

    "Is that your professional opinion?" The apprentice trader had a wry grin on his face when he asked.

    "Yeah, actually," Aytin said, and he was surprised that he meant it. "I think I picked up more from the family business than I thought."

    "Well, they certainly paid well. The silver they gave us," he waved towards the heavy lockbox, "was at least a few percent more pure than we agreed. That''s pure profit right there. Although they may just be buttering us up to make sure we put in a good word for them with the guild."

    "So that''s your professional opinion?"

    Bush laughed at having his own words turned on him. "You know what, I think it is."

 Chapter 3: New Perspectives

    "Hey, Aytin, come over here."

    The young dragonette sat up. He had been planning on resting until dinner. Something about the beat of Faelon''s wings kept him from sleeping during the flight. Everyone had promised him that he''d learn, but after a week of travel he didn''t think that  napping on dragonback would ever get any easier.

    The early mornings didn''t help, either. Reed insisted on getting underway an hour after sunrise whenever they weren''t staying the night at a keep. Even with the warm climate, that was painfully early for the cold blooded dragonettes.

    All of which was why Aytin''s response was a less than thrilled, "On my way."

    He found Xantha near a pile of recently unloaded baggage. Faelon hadn''t moved far from his cargo. Something that sounded suspiciously like a snore came from where he was resting in the middle of the copse of trees.

    "How are you with a bow?" Xantha asked as he walked up.

    Aytin''s ears perked at the unexpected question. "Pretty good," he admitted.

    The female dragonette cocked her head. "What do you mean by pretty good? Pretty good like a gilded huntress is pretty good, or pretty good like a hatchling who can hit the side of a keep?"

    "Pretty good like I made it to the semifinals of male archery in last year''s keep games." He didn''t mention that it had only been by a scale''s breadth, and he''d been trounced handily in the next round.

    "That works. Here." She handed him a bow.

    Most of the caravan guards used crossbows. Those were easier to aim, and even a male could reload them with the help of a lever. But they had a few of the composite bows favored by huntresses, and more buried in the cargo for sale to keeps that lacked the ability to make their own.

    Aytin wasn''t exactly big, even for a male dragonette. He took the hunting bow and gave it an experimental tug. It was heavier than his bow back at the keep, and he struggled a little with the pull. He got it there, but he couldn''t hold it for long.

    Xantha hissed slightly at his trembling arm. "It''ll have to do." She passed over a quiver with a trio of arrows. "I hope you really are as good as you say, because we''re going hunting."

    "Hunting?"

    "Yeah. We could use some fresh meat, and there''s no one on this island who will complain if we take some game. Now come on." She turned and strode purposefully towards the treeline.

    Aytin stood there, waiting for the punchline to the joke but the older dragonette just kept walking. When it was clear that this wasn''t some practical joke he had to run to catch up.

    Only to nearly collide with an enormous red-scaled head blocking his path.

    "You''re going hunting?" Faelon asked. It might have been a polite question, but it was always hard to tell. The red dragon had mostly kept to himself for most of the trip. Even though he had been reasonable enough during the episode at the mine, red dragons were known for their tempers.

    "Y-yes?" the young dragonette stammered.

    Faelon bobbed his massive head in a nod. "I would appreciate it if you could bring enough back for me as well."

    "I, well, I mean, uh, yes. Yes, we''ll bring you whatever we can. Of course we will!"

    The red dragon''s lips curled back and Aytin''s heart was already hammering before he realized it was a smile. "Thank you. I will await your return."

    Taking that as a dismissal, Aytin scampered off.

    He found Xantha waiting for him, tapping one taloned foot in impatience.

    "Well? What took you?" she demanded.

    "Faelon. He wanted us to make sure we got enough meat for him, too."

    Xantha sighed. "Of course he did. The lazy wyrm can''t even be bothered to hunt for himself." She looked Aytin up and down and shook her head. "I sure hope we can find something close, because I''d rather not make two trips. Now come on, we''re burning daylight." She sprinted forward and leapt into the air, wings beating for altitude.

    With his smaller wingspan, Aytin needed a bit more ground to get airborne. He formed up alongside the other dragonette and together they began to cross the savannah that made up the majority of this island.

    "They have pronghorns back where you grew up, right?" Xantha shouted over the rushing airstream.

    "Antelope? Yeah, we have those. Are... are we hunting them?"

    "That''s the only animal around here we''ll get enough meat from to feed everyone and that big red pit. So shout out if you see a herd."

    "Okay, right. I''ll do that," Aytin called. He paused and then asked, "What do we do after that?"

    "After what?"

    "We see them!"

    "What do you mean? You... shit, you''ve never been hunting before, have you?" His silence was answer enough. "Gods damn it, I''ve been away from a keep for too long." She thought for a minute. "Okay, do you think you can dive down and hit one in the back from the wing? Preferably in the neck? While it''s dodging back and forth?"

    He thought about that for a moment. It wasn''t too much different from some of the exercises his older brother had put him through. "I can do that."

    "Then you''ll go in first. We''ll come in high and catch them by surprise. I''ll clean up."

    "I''ll do my best." He wasn''t sure he could handle more than one draw.

    "Say, you don''t have any magic that might help, do you?"

    It was a somewhat personal question. One he felt more than a little reluctant to talk about with a dragonette he had only known for a few days.

    Xantha noticed his discomfort. "It''s alright. Us crews are close. We know everything about each other. Like, I can feel the weather. Being on a moving dragon doesn''t help, but I can sense if something big is coming. It''s how I knew about the squall that we flew by the first day out of your keep."

    Aytin remembered that. Reed had ordered them to pull to the west just after they had eaten, and an hour later they had skirted a nasty little storm. And Xantha had definitely been talking to her about the weather just before they changed course.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    "But if you don''t want to share, that''s fine," Xantha continued. "No one will force you."

    "No, no, it''s alright," Aytin replied. "I actually don''t know what magic I have. If I have any."

    "Don''t worry about it! When I was your age I was worried that I''d be a blank. Everyone is. But I know you''ll come into yours soon. In the meantime, look." She pointed into the distance where a patch of dark spots marred the green grass.

    The pair altered course slightly, and started to bleed altitude. Xantha fell back a few wingbeats, letting the less experienced dragonette take the lead.

    For his part, Aytin was humming with nerves. He didn''t want to screw up in front of the senior crewmember, but he''d never loosed an arrow at anything alive before. Huntresses hunted. That was the way things worked in the keep. He had never considered it could be any different.

    They were nearly above the herd when their gentle descent turned into a vertical dive.

    A ripple went through the mass of pronghorns and they bolted as they finally noticed the pair of airborne threats.

    Aytin picked out a larger buck and arrowed after it. The beast was canny, jerking back and forth to dodge the coming strike, but Aytin was patient. He drew back the bow and even though his shoulder burned he forced himself to watch the pattern.

    Just as the strain was becoming too much to bear, he swung the bow to point just to the animal''s left, and let it fly with a twang.

    Nothing happened. The animal kept running for its life. The shot had clearly been a miss, and Aytin''s heart sank.

    Then the buck seemed to trip over its own legs. It tumbled end over end before sliding to a stop in the high grass. Other pronghorns bounded over the body like it was just another rise in the massive prairie that made up the bulk of the island.

    "Well done!" Xantha shouted. "You land over there. I''ll bring mine to you."

    Aytin did as he was told. The animal was dead by the time he reached it. His arrow jutted out from just below the left shoulder, half buried in the buck''s chest.

    He stood there, staring at it until Xantha strode up. She had a carcass slung over her shoulder and a grin on her snout.

    "That was a hell of a hit," she complimented, dumping her burden onto the ground nearby. "It looks like you got it right in the heart. And you told me you were only ''pretty good''. Ha!"

    "I got lucky," he said, scratching at the dirt with one foot.

    "I''ve done this a few hundred times before, and mine still needed two arrows. But now for the really important question." Xantha drew a knife, and her expression turned serious. "Please tell me that you know how to clean these? Because I''d rather not have to do all the work myself."

    Aytin drew the bronze knife Lin had given him in response. "That much I can do. The huntresses brought their kills back for us all the time." He examined the carcasses for a moment and then asked, "Quarter them?"

    "That''s what I was thinking." She eyed his smaller blade dubiously. "You dress them. I''ll handle the skinning and ligaments. Pity we don''t have the time to bleed them properly, but it is what it is."

    It only took minutes for Aytin to clean out the entrails and chest cavity of his kill. The guts and lungs went into a shallow hole while he stored the organs away in a clean leather bag that Xantha provided. It was bloody, messy work, but work he had done exactly the same thing many times in the past.

    "So if you didn''t hunt, what did you do back at the keep?"

    Aytin paused at the question, forearm deep in a pronghorn''s guts. He thought for a time and then shrugged. "A little of everything, I guess."

    "You guess? Your parents are the lord and lady of a keep, and a pretty damn successful one for that far out on the frontier. You aren''t telling me that they let you lounge around all day eating honey cakes?"

    "No, of course not," he said, then gave a grunt as he finally pulled out the liver. "But I never found anything I was really good at. Not like my brother and sisters."

    "Oh?" Xantha made an expectant noise from where she was sawing through some ligaments.

    "Well, Zara, my oldest sister, she''s going to inherit the keep. Everyone always knew that. But she''s great at that sort of thing. You know, making people like her and getting them to do what she wants."

    "Hey, you''re a perfectly likable sort for a runt, Tin."

    He rolled his eyes at the much larger dragonette. "Thank you so much. But she''s good at all the other leadership stuff, too. Organizing, figuring out problems, you know. She''s in charge of a shift in the copper mines right now, but everyone knows that''s just the first step.

    "Then Stonar, my older brother, he got all the height I didn''t."

    "He''s in the guard, right? I remember a dragonette that looked like a taller, muscled version of you."

    "Yeah, he''s in the guard." Aytin caught an odd gleam in her eyes, and then the tone registered. "No. Oh gods, no!"

    "Ha! You''re too easy!" Xantha laughed. "Relax, I didn''t do anything but look... this time."

    "I don''t care! Keep your claws off my brother. You''re like more than twice his age. And he has a girlfriend."

    "Oh? A pity. But I''m sure with enough time- Hey!" She barely dodged a chunk of bloody gut hurled her way. "Okay, okay. I don''t want to get these clothes any dirtier than I have to."

    Aytin wasn''t finished. "Swear you won''t mess with Stonar." To emphasize his point, he held another length of dripping entrails in one hand. The implication was clear.

    "Okay." Xantha dropped the mocking tone. "I swear I won''t mess with your brother. Happy?"

    The younger dragonette tossed the improvised projectile to the side in response. Then he went right back to work. The sun was only a bit more than a hand''s breadth over the horizon and neither wanted to be flying home in the dark.

    "So what about your other siblings?" Xantha asked, trying to restart the conversation.

    "Suuie is my other older sister. She''s apprenticed to the keep smith. He''s also about the only one in the keep that can stand her for more than a day."

    "That bad?"

    "She''s about as prickly as a needlefruit. I can''t believe Lin managed to tolerate her long enough to get her to agree to help with this, much less finish it," he said, holding up his gifted bronze blade. "The two of them get into some epic fights, and somehow I always end up being the go between. I wouldn''t be surprised if they have torn down the whole keep by now trying to get at each other."

    "Lin is the huntress, right?" Xantha asked with some interest.

    "Yeah, my little sister." He stopped cleaning out the chest cavity to stare off into the distance for a few moments. "I''m going to miss her."

    The other dragonette nodded. "From the little display she put on, she knows her way around the sky. And her kit looked good. Well cared for, with all the essentials and none of the fluff. Definitely solid huntress material."

    Aytin cocked his head. "You sound like you''re speaking from experience."

    She froze, back turned. After a half dozen heartbeats she resumed her butchering, but said nothing.

    When no response came, Aytin went back to his own task. They worked in silence for several minutes before Xantha finally spoke.

    "I was... a huntress once. Years ago. It didn''t work out."

    Aytin sensed there was more. He kept quiet, though. Years of being in the middle of family arguments had taught him when to poke and when to keep quiet.

    "The keep had the fucking god''s cursed luck," she eventually continued. "Two straight years of failed harvests. A plague brought in by a band of traveling mercenaries. Tax collectors that wouldn''t see reason. And when there was a screw up, did they back their own? Hells on!" Her eyes flashed and she cut through the last joint with a vicious chop that buried the knife into the hard packed dirt.

    That drew a wince from the kid, not only at the older dragonette''s anger but at the abuse of a fine blade.

    She ignored him, focusing on cleaning up the kill. A couple of quick knots and she had the haunches all hanging from a nearby tree.

    "You done? Good. We''re taking the choice cuts back to the crew. Faelon can bite me if he thinks I''m gonna hand feed him. So he can fly his fat ass over here for his share." She gestured towards the tree where the haunches hung like gristly ornaments.

    "Now, this bag is your responsibility," she ordered, pointing to the smaller of the two sacks. "Drop it and you''re explaining to the crew why they''re getting shank instead of steak. And to Faelon why he''s having to give up part of his share."

    Both possibilities were equally frightening.

 Chapter 4: Camping

    Out of everyone in the party, Voxin was the last one Aytin expected to be any good at cooking. She was the escort leader. That was literally who she was. Every morning she was first awake, lashing the rest of the guards into shape with tongue and talon. During the long flights she was either scanning the skies or else taking care of her gear.

    Standing over the fire wielding a long handled fork in one hand and armored in a leather apron just didn''t fit anywhere into that mental picture. It was like walking into the forge only to find his sister Suuie carefully arranging a bouquet of flowers instead of hammering some piece of metal into shape.

    But the aroma wafting off of the steaming chunk of meat she dropped onto Aytin''s plate insisted that no matter what he might think, Voxin was definitely a chef.

    His first bite of the antelope steak only confirmed it.

    "Where did you learn how to cook like this," he asked, words muffled by the mouthful of meat. It was a little tough and definitely on the gamy side. Without hanging, that really couldn''t be avoided. But the meat was perfectly cooked and oozing with flavor.

    The guard captain laughed. "If you spend enough time flying around the frontier, you either have to accept shit for rations or learn to make decent grub for yourself."

    "She also insisted that I buy her nearly half a gold worth of spices to cook with," Reed complained. But not all that angrily, considering the larger-than-average cut on her plate.

    "Only the stuff I can''t scrounge," Voxin said as she slid a steak onto Bush''s plate. "Half the herbs I used tonight came from around the camp. It''s amazing what you can find if you know where to look. It also helps to have good material to work with." She added the last to Xantha.

    The other dragonette paused from her meal to grin. "Any time I can stretch my wings and have a bit of fun instead of dealing with kitchen duty is a win for me. But don''t forget that Tin here did his share of the work."

    "Yeah, he did, didn''t he?" Voxin turned speculative for a moment. "A bit of a strange choice, that. It''s not like most males would have a whole lot of experience with hunting."

    "Reed told me to pick someone to go hunting with and I did that. Besides, Tin did fine. The kid''s a hell of a shot."

    "Sure, but so is Vin," the guard captain said, jerking a chin at one of her subordinates. "And no offense to our young passenger - sorry, crewmember - but Tin didn''t exactly look like he was having fun carrying his half of the kill back. In fact, he nearly ate dirt on the landing."

    Aytin shifted his wings self-consciously. It was true he had had trouble carrying even the smaller of the two bags back. He just didn''t have the wingspan of a female like Vin.

    The whole thing was getting uncomfortable. And some uncomfortable suspicions were bubbling in the back of his mind. Things he hadn''t considered before, but were starting to fit.

    Xantha didn''t seem to notice, though. And she had a response ready. "Vin was busy. Tin wasn''t. I figured I''d give him a chance to have his own fun, see how the huntresses do things."

    "You never took me out hunting and you know I''m decent with a bow," Bush added, before giving his plate a final lick.

    "That''s because you have plenty to do around camp. But if it makes you happy, I''ll bring you out next time."

    "And someone else, too," Reed added. "Two is an awfully small hunting party out here. I know you can take care of yourself, but not all of the crew has your experience."

    "There was never any danger. It''s not like we''re right next to the southern border or walking through a forest full of wolves. The plan was to bag a couple of antelope, dress ''em, and fly right back here. We did that. It was perfectly safe."

    "I still want at least three people on any hunting party. Especially if one of them is inexperienced."

    "I assume I''m excused from that order?" Faelon asked from the edge of the camp.

    As usual, the dragon hadn''t said much, although he had gone out of his way to thank both Aytin and Xantha after returning with his share of the kills.

    Once again, the young dragonette had been surprised at the dragon seeking him out. It certainly wasn''t something Faelon did often, even with the crew. Usually Reed or occasionally Bush sought him out when they needed him. Otherwise he was amazingly solitary despite the traders spending hours every day on his back.

    So his off the wall comment turned heads.

    "Obviously," Reed finally said after a moment. "It''s not like there''s much out here that could touch you."

    Aytin looked back to Xantha in time to see the older dragonette''s face return to a blank mask. He had been sure she was about to say something else to Reed. Something she might not be able to take back.

    Hells, he wanted to say something. If it wasn''t for Xantha, Aytin would still be some passenger sitting on the outside looking in. Her way of doing things was strange, sure, but he''d take it over the alternative.

    He was just about to speak up and say just that when a loud smack echoed across the campsite, accompanied by a yelp from Bush.

    "You keep your greedy claws off of my steak." Voxin''s voice cracked like a whip.

    Everyone shifted to watch the drama unfold as a wincing Bush backed away from the angry cook.

    "Hey, sorry, I thought it was an extra. You don''t need to break my wrist!"

    "An extra? Sure you did. Which is why you tried to sneak up from behind to take my steak."

    "I could have sworn you already had yours."

    Crewmembers started poking each other and grinning as Voxin''s expression turned dark.

    "Really? You thought I already ate? Well that''s fucking typical."

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    The guy at least knew enough to back off when he was beaten. He gave a shit eating grin and spread his arms wide. "Sorry. I just wanted more of your delicious cooking."

    For her part, Voxin narrowed her eyes. "Next time you want more of my cooking, fucking ask."

    "Sure thing," he said, then paused. "Say, could I have some more of your-."

    "No."

    The entire camp broke out in laughter. Even Voxin cracked a grin after a moment, but she kept a close eye on her food.

    And with that, the previous conversation had been completely forgotten.

    Between the steaks and the impromptu entertainment, a bit of a party atmosphere developed as twilight set in. While there wasn''t any ale to spare, two of the crew produced pipes that billowed with a fragrant smoke and passed them around.

    Aytin took one puff and nearly choked, much to everyone''s amusement. Pipes weren''t common back at Luffin Keep and the blend was extra potent. It left his head swimming long after he passed it on.

    A quartet broke off to play cards, something nearly impossible on dragonback. The rest of the group inched closer to the campfire. It wasn''t all that cold, but the warmth of the flames was certainly more comfortable than the slight chill of the early autumn air.

    Bush took the opportunity to slip off somewhere. He returned with a couple of small drums. At the sight of the instruments, Vin produced a flute from seemingly thin air and the pair huddled together for a moment. When the two rejoined the group, they both had smug expressions plastered on their faces.

    "Alright, so you''re all in for a treat. I''ve been working with Vin on this for a few weeks, and we''re finally ready," Bush explained as his partner worked her way through a few scales as a warm up.

    "Something you two came up with?" Reed asked, looking rather surprised, but her young apprentice shook his head.

    "No, I heard it in the capital. I was, uh, a little drunk at the time." There were laughs from the crowd and Bush''s ears flicked back in mock embarrassment. "Anyway, it''s taken a bit to piece it back together and teach it to Vin. But I guarantee you''ll all like it."

    Without further preamble he started beating his drums in a rhythm that bordered on frantic. Vin joined in a moment later with an upbeat tune and then Bush started singing.

    "I''m flying on sunbeams! Woah-oh! I''m flying on sunbeams! Woah-oh! And it feels so good!"

    The young dragonette had a great voice and belted out the lyrics with enthusiasm, all the while keeping the beat with his drums. Vin didn''t have quite the same musical talent, but she held on gamely. Pretty soon the entire camp was bobbing their heads in time with the music, and even joining in with the chorus.

    It was one of the oddest love songs Aytin had ever heard, but he had to admit that it worked. Although some of the lyrics made no sense. He couldn''t understand what a box full of armor had to do with anything, or a weak end for that matter. Bush''s drunken memory clearly wasn''t perfect.

    Not that he minded. It was all great fun and Aytin joined in the hooting and stomping as the pair wound down.

    The next tune was more traditional. It was a classic ditty about the bumbling adventures of a two-tailed green dragon named Twisty.

    As Bush launched into the verse where the clueless Twisty foiled a darkling infiltration by accidentally knocking over a tanning vat, Aytin quietly made his way over to where Xantha was sitting.

    "Hey," he said, just loud enough to get her attention.

    She flicked an ear in question, then scooted to one side. There was just enough room at the end of the fallen tree for Aytin to join her.

    "What''s on your mind, Tin?"

    The off-key chorus and stomping of the audience was loud enough that despite the crowd the two could speak without anyone else overhearing. Still, the young dragonette took a few moments to compose his thoughts before saying anything.

    "I just wanted to say thanks. For today, I mean. The hunting trip. It was- well, thank you." It came out in a bit of a jumble.

    "Ah. Don''t mention it."

    The curt reply didn''t invite a response, and she was already turning back to watch the music. Aytin almost left it there. Almost.

    But he had to know.

    "Why did you take me? Really?"

    This time she twisted to look him in the eyes and there was a hint of frost in her voice as she said, ''I told you not to mention it."

    But Aytin was committed, and he wasn''t backing down. "Did my mother pay you to take care of me? Because I really can''t think of any other reason for you doing all of this."

    "You''re mother is not paying me."

    "So why?!"

    A few of the other dragonettes were starting to glance their way, much to Xantha''s obvious discomfort. But after several seconds of warring emotion, she stood and motioned for Aytin to follow.

    They didn''t go far, just to the edge of the flickering light of the fire. It wasn''t wise to go wandering off into the dark on an uninhabited island.

    "Your mother didn''t put me up to anything," the older dragonette began without preamble. "No one did."

    "Then-"

    "Be quiet because I''m only going to explain this once. Understood?" Aytin nodded and Xantha gave a grunt of satisfaction.

    "I haven''t been a huntress in a long time, but we did things a certain way. We did them because they worked. Out in a frontier keep you want your biggest, your strongest, your fastest, your toughest, your best out there keeping everyone else alive. There aren''t many males that can measure up to that."

    It wasn''t anything Aytin didn''t know. He even agreed with it. Males tended to be short and stout. Not ideal for ranging around an island scouting and hunting for the pot.

    "Outside of a keep, things are different," she went on. "In other groups I''ve traveled with, males take up some of the duties of a huntress. Not all. Not usually. But some circumstances require... flexibility. Some backup is better than none. Half the meat is better than starving."

    Xantha paused, and her eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to her.

    "Have you ever been hungry?"

    The sudden change in subject left Aytin momentarily nonplussed, but she didn''t wait for an answer.

    "Not missed a meal or the pot was a little light hungry. I mean days with nothing more than a few scraps of dried meat and some roots you dug up. That sort of starving. Where you can''t think about anything other than the gnawing pain in your gut and the weakness in your limbs."

    Mutley, Aytin shook his head. He couldn''t remember a time where food had been short. Even if it had been, his family owned the keep.They would be the last to starve.

    Xantha smiled without humor. "I didn''t figure you had. But when things get that bad, I can tell you from experience that traditions go into the ocean. So does that tell you why I took you today?"

    "You... think the traditions are wrong?"

    "Fuck no. Were you even listening?" She let out a hiss of exasperation. "I said they''re there for a reason. And here I thought you were smart."

    The bite in her words touched a nerve. "Do I look like I have an inquisitorial token on my shirt?" Aytin demanded. "I''m not a mind reader, so just tell me or keep your damn secrets! Don''t string me along!"

    That seemed to bring Xantha up short. She gave him a long look, as if reevaluating the young dragonette. Eventually, she relented.

    "Everywhere is different. The capital is different from the keeps are different from all the little trading bands. If showing you how to tie some knots or sending you off to inspect some mines or taking you hunting helps you realize that, then maybe someday when you''ve made something of yourself, you and the people you love won''t ever have to experience real hunger.

    "So now," she asked, fixing him with an unwavering stare, "do you understand?"

    This time Aytin nodded.

 Chapter 5: Tall Tales

    "I''m telling you, all three keeps were overrun by darklings. They even slaughtered an entire dragon''s crew. But one of the keeps must have gotten some warning or something. Gods know, it must have been terrifying. But instead of letting themselves be turned, they managed to blow up the whole keep, right in the darklings'' teeth!"

    "How do you blow up a whole keep? Did they have a whole wing of dragons or something?"

    "I don''t know, I''m just telling you what I heard. Maybe they had a few barrels of flash powder in the basement or something."

    "No one is suicidal enough to sleep above that much flash powder."

    "Look, the dragonette at the bar also said they had something new. A hideous wingless monster that blew apart anything in its way with blasts of fire. He told me that he had seen it with his own eyes."

    "After you bought the next round for him?"

    Aytin sipped his ale as he watched Bush try to backtrack.

    The dragonette was only a few years older than Aytin was, but he had apparently spent at least a few of those years trolling capital bars listening to gossip. Now he was trying to impress the locals at this out of the way settlement.

    Except the residents of Lazon''s Rest were turning out to be a little less credulous than the young trader had expected.

    They were at an out of the way settlement. It wasn''t even a true keep. There wasn''t room for the trading party to all sleep inside of the central building''s rough stone walls. Most of them - Faelon included - were relegated to sleeping in tents.

    There was a wooden stockade to keep the animals out, at least. And a couple of guards to watch the skies.

    It had been like that for their last stop, too, although the one before that had been a proper keep with a great hall large enough for their entire party. The Luffin holdings were on the outward leg of Reed and Faelon''s route, so things were getting progressively more and more rural as they skirted the southeastern frontier on their way north.

    But according to the plan, this settlement marked their halfway point. In the morning they would start turning to the west, beginning their journey back to civilization. Just a few weeks after that, they''d arrive in the capital.

    For a dragonette who had never been further than a day''s flight away from where he was born, the experience had been enlightening.

    And exhausting.

    As a member of the "crew" Aytin had lost count of the number of boxes, crates, casks, bundles, and bags of trade goods he was required to load and unload at every stop. ''I wonder if I should ask Reed about getting paid, again. Or at least giving my family a discount.''

    It was a beautiful early autumn evening, and even if the Lazon''s Rest was small, the dragonettes at Lazon''s Rest had been extremely welcoming. They had built a bonfire in the stockade and the local huntresses had brought down a tirox, one of the massive oxen-like herbivores that called these islands home.

    In return for the warm welcome and as a celebration of reaching their halfway point, Reed had broached a keg of ale. It hadn''t exactly traveled well, but the drink might as well have been honeyed cider to dragonettes this far out on the frontier.

    Some movement caught Aytin''s eye. Faelon was settling back down to finish his enormous Tirox hanch. Something about the story had sparked the normally recalcitrant dragon''s interest enough to listen in.

    "Hey Tin!"

    Aytin nearly jumped. He had been busy studying the red dragon and hadn''t heard Voxin slide up to him. He turned to face the guard captain and did his best to act nonchalant. "Yeah?"

    "So you''ve been with us for a while now, right?"

    "It''s only been three weeks!" the young dragonette protested.

    "Practically forever!" There were snickers from around the table.

    To be fair, it had felt like a lot longer as the boredom set in. There just wasn''t much to do while flying on dragon back except stretch his wings, stare at the clouds, and practice knot tying. Xantha was certainly making sure he did plenty of the latter.

    But Aytin had gotten to know the rest of the crew fairly well. They were certainly happy to have a captive audience for all the stories that their fellows had heard a dozen times before. It was about all there was for entertainment when traveling on dragon back.

    "Anyway," Voxin continued, "I was just wondering what''s up with your horn?"

    Aytin reached up and touched the tip of his left horn on reflex. No two dragonettes there had exactly the same horn. Some were thicker, some were thinner. Some swept right back and others curled up.

    His own right horn was normal enough; thick at the base, with a slight backwards curl. But Aytin''s left left bent outwards for the last few talon-lengths. It wasn''t enough to catch on things as he passed by, but it was certainly distinctive.

    "Well, see, it''s my magic. I can wiggle my horns around."

    "What, really? Can we see?" Bush asked. His storytelling had tapered off and the young trader had been drawn to the new conversation along with his erstwhile audience.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    "Of course not. Because that would be stupid." Aytin enjoyed the laughs at Bush''s expense as he took another swig of the ale to wet his throat. "It''s actually been this way since I hatched. I got it from my father."

    "Lord Luffin''s horns don''t look anything like that."

    "That''s because you didn''t know the last lord of the keep," Reed interjected. "Bloodhorn was a tough one."

    "Bloodhorn?" someone in the group asked.

    "On account of the twist in his horn always ending up dripping with the blood of his enemies," the trader explained. "I didn''t believe it when I first heard he was killed."

    "It was a darkling raid," Aytin said, breaking in. Despite Reed being so much older and more experienced, he knew that he had to be the one to tell the story of his father''s final stand against the forces of corruption and evil.

    "They surprised the keep, attacking through an unbarred gate. The crossbar had broken a few days before and no one expected a week or so to replace it would make any difference. Things had been quiet that year, after all, and the guards were supposed to keep an eye on it.

    "But dad, he was on his way to check on my older brother. Stonar had been sick. Apparently he was a bit of a runt back then." Aytin allowed himself a small, private smile at the thought of his brother, the proverbial stone wall, ever being small.

    "Anyway, Stonar wasn''t sleeping well, and on the way to the creche my dad caught the darklings sneaking in. His battle cry woke the entire keep, and then he started to tear into them."

    He tried to take another gulp of ale but found his tankard empty. Wordlessly, Voxin handed him her own. The young dragonette took a long pull before continuing.

    "After the battle, they found his body surrounded by eight dead darklings. They were torn apart. Wings snapped. Bellies slashed open. Limbs broken. And all he started with was a single knife. A knife they found snapped off in one of the darklings'' eyes."

    Aytin had heard the story a dozen times, but he''d never told it himself. It was harder than he thought and he took a few deep breaths before pushing on.

    "His body was just down the hall from the room where my older brother and a dozen other kids were sleeping. But he held them back. Held them until the guard rallied and swarmed the survivors. Less than half of them managed to flee back into the night."

    The entire tavern was silent. Every conversation had ceased as the locals and crew members alike stopped to listen.

    It was Vonix who broke the silence. "So your sister Lin...?" she asked, her question trailing off at the end.

    "Mother remarried. I''m the fourth of eight. Two sisters and a brother older than me. Three sisters and another brother, younger. And from the way my mother was talking, there could be more by the time I get back home."

    Aytin was now the center of a circle of dragonettes. Even Faelon seemed interested once more, watching from just outside. His unblinking gaze bored into Aytin, and he took another swig of ale to cover the discomfort.

    "Well?" Bush demanded.

    "Well what?"

    "What happened after that?"

    "There isn''t much else to tell," Aytin said, ruffling his wings in a shrug. "There hasn''t been a darkling raid on Luffin Keep since. Although," he continued, expression brightening a little, "if you want to hear more, I could tell you all about his last assignment as a lancer-"

    "A lancer!? You''re pulling my tail."

    "It''s true," Reed confirmed from where she was continuing to watch the story play out.

    "Anyway, there were reports of this rogue green dragon harassing convoys headed to a frontier outpost, and his wing was assigned to patrol the region. But there was this keep that wasn''t far from that area, and..."

    Many more stories and many mugs of ale passed before the group broke up for the night. Aytin was well past tipsy when he finally laid out his bedroll. Despite the ale buzzing through his head and solid ground beneath his chest, he found it hard to sleep.

    The night was unseasonably warm, perfect weather for sleeping outdoors. No one had bothered unpacking the tents. Snores were already sounding from nearby.

    But he had lived in a keep his entire life. It felt wrong not to have four walls and a roof over his head.

    He opened his eyes and craned his neck to look at the stars. His eyes were drawn to one in particular. It was fuzzier than the dots of light surrounding it, and pulsed with an irregular rhythm. A god''s gate.

    If any of them were watching, he imagined it would be Lotek, the god of travel and trade. Aytin''s ale and fatigue clouded mind couldn''t quite form a coherent prayer, but he did manage to send a wordless request for the god to bless his journey up towards that distant light.

    As he stared, the stars around the gate seemed to flicker as well. It was almost as if something had passed in front of them. He shook his head and the stars returned to their normal unwavering shine. ''I need to stop drinking so much that I can''t see straight.''

    He was still awake when he heard footsteps and soft words coming from the direction of the tavern. It was Reed and Xantha, discussing something in low tones.

    It was odd, Xana hadn''t been around for much of the party. She had said something about needing some time away from the rest of the crew. After weeks living under each other''s wings, Aytin could appreciate that. And the rest of the crew didn''t seem to find it odd, either.

    "-telling you, I can feel a big one," Xantha was saying.

    It would have been hard not to eavesdrop with the pair passing so close. Aytin didn''t even try not to. Weather prediction magic wasn''t unknown, but never met anyone who had the rather rare ability before Xantha. Hearing about how it worked firsthand wasn''t an opportunity he wanted to pass up.

    "I believe you," Reed replied. "It''s the right time of year for a front to blow in after all."

    "Which is why we need to push east and get around it."

    Reed stopped less than a wingspan away, and turned to face Xantha. "In all my years flying, I''ve never been able to just fly around one of these autumn storms."

    "They don''t stretch across the world. There''s an edge, and we''re lucky enough to be just a few hours flight away from it." When her boss didn''t answer, Xantha pressed on. "You didn''t believe me about the squall just out from Luffin Keep, either, but we changed course anyway. And a good thing we did, too."

    "You didn''t catch that wind shift out of Lopon, though. That cost us a full day fighting it, and Faelon needed most of the next to recover." Reed sighed, heavily. "Xantha, you were highly recommended as a navigator when I brought you onto the crew. And some warning is better than none at all. But I can''t afford unnecessary delays, and your magic isn''t perfect."

    "Look," Aytin heard Xantha say. "The worst case is we detour to the east for nothing and it costs us an extra half day''s flight. That wouldn''t be great, but if we can skirt around the storm then we''ll make all that up and more from not having to fight the wind and rain. And I''ll bet half my share that I''m right this time."

    There were a few heartbeats of silence and then, "I''ll think on it."

    "Thank you, boss. I''ll see you in the morning."

    Reed grumbled something in reply as she crunched off to find her sleeping mat, with Xantha right behind. And with the sound of steps fading in his ears, Aytin finally drifted off to sleep.

 Chapter 6: The Scream of Thunder

    "So I heard your father was the Bloodhorn," Xantha said, settling down next to Aytin.

    Her tone was bright and cheery. Possibly even a bit smug. Probably because rather than turning to the northwest, Reed had ordered Faelon to fly east on their way out of Lazon''s Rest.

    There had been grumbles among the crew. They were traders, not explorers. Nothing good existed beyond the kingdom''s borders.

    If they hadn''t trusted their leader''s judgment, there might have been trouble. But they did, and word that they were making the detour to avoid a storm did a lot to improve the mood. No one wanted to be stuck out in a storm.

    For his part, Aytin brightened at the mention of his father. "Yeah, that''s right. You''ve heard of him?"

    She nodded. "I even saw him once. That was, oh, at least thirty years ago. Or something like it. It couldn''t have been more than a year or two before he disappeared from the capital."

    "That wasn''t long before he met my mother and moved into the keep. I don''t think he ever really left after they married."

    "You know, there was a lot of speculation about what happened to him after he disappeared. A lot of disappointed women, too- Hey, I never said I was one of them!" she quickly added at his sharp look.

    "Anyway," Xantha went on after Aytin relaxed. "I was wondering if you ever thought about following in his slipstream? The royal guard is picky about their recruits, but for the son of someone like Bloodhorn..."

    She trailed off encouragingly, but Aytin just shook his head. "My brother Stonar, sure. He''s even talked about going to the capital someday to try and enlist. But it''s not for me."

    "What do you mean, it''s not for you? You were plenty good with the bow. You''ve obviously had some training."

    "Sure, but aside from that I was never much good. And I got a lucky shot. That bow was a lot heavier than I''m used to."

    "How can you know you''re no good?" the older dragonette pressed.

    "Because my brother spent two whole seasons trying to train me up a couple years ago. It was fun at first, but I just never seemed to get any better after the first few weeks." He lifted a wing in a half shrug.

    "I can stand guard with a spear as well as the next dragonette and if the draw is light enough I''m better than most with a bow. But okay isn''t really good enough when everyone keeps comparing you to your brother. And your dad."

    "Well, don''t sell yourself short, Tin," Xantha said, before snorting at the pun.

    "Very funny. I''ve never heard that one before."

    "Yeah, well, you''re not too old for a late growth spurt. And your magic hasn''t come in, either."

    He shrugged once more, not wanting to argue. Following in his father''s wingbeats was a hatchling''s dream. That had been clear for years now.

    Xantha got the message, but instead of letting the conversation get lost to the winds, she changed the subject.

    "So, when you finally get to the capital, what are you going to do?"

    He thought about the question for a few seconds, considering his options. The capital was the center of the kingdom, a city with a population of over a hundred thousand. It would be easier to list the things he couldn''t do there than the other way around.

    "You know, I think I''m going to need some new clothes."

    That got a barking laugh from Xantha. But when he didn''t join in she gave him a look. "Damn, you''re serious."

    "Well, yeah. I''m not going to be wearing this to meet with a guild representative." He motioned to his blue-dyed linen shirt and fur-lined coat. Both were serviceable on the wing, but travel worn and lacked any pretensions.

    "I have some nicer stuff packed away, but anything we get out on the frontier is way out of date. I want to have at least one fashionable outfit."

    "You might be surprised about the sort of things dragonettes wear to those sorts of meetings," Xantha remarked. "But I get your point. You just threw me for a loop was all. I was expecting you to talk about seeing a Tonselra match or something."

    He winced at the mention of the aerial acrobatics competition. "Oh, damn, I''ve never seen one of those. Can I change my answer?"

    "Nope," Xantha said with a grin. "You''re going to be stuck clothes shopping while the rest of us go watch the best fliers in the kingdom. And we''re gonna have front row seats with cider and fried meat sticks and-"

    "Okay, okay! You don''t have to rub it in."

    "But how else are you going to learn?"

    "I''ll manage," he said, drily, much to the older dragonette''s amusement. "Now, if I absolutely have to go to the tailor''s while you''re having fun, I want to at least make it a good one. Do you know of any of those?"

    Xantha hesitated. "It''s been a long-" She stopped abruptly before continuing. "I mean, I don''t think the shops I''ve been to are the sort you''ll be looking for. But..." She trailed off, thinking.

    "Citadel Needleworks." She finally said. "About eight blocks behind the palace spire. Or they were the last time I was there. But they''ll take good care of you."

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    "At least your advice is good when it comes to tailors," Reed said as he joined the pair. "Citadel is a fine store."

    An awkward silence followed, broken only by the rushing of the airstream as Faelon continued carrying them onwards. A glance ahead showed why. The horizon was a solid band of dark clouds, and the only path was through.

    Xantha stayed silent, only staring out towards the oncoming wall of clouds.

    After no response came, Reed shrugged. "Well then, it looks like we''re going to get wet after all. I''m about to have Faelon turn us back north. Hopefully we can make up some of the time we lost today."

    To Aytin''s surprise, Xantha nodded agreeably. "I think you''re right. I was actually about to suggest the same thing."

    Reed gave her a look, head cocked to one side and her subordinate gave a shrug. "I was wrong. I admit it. What else is there to do?"

    "Get wet, apparently," Reed muttered, although her words were almost lost in the wind. Then she huffed a breath and headed forward to speak with Faelon.

    The crew was even more unhappy as they turned north to face the storm.

    "We''re going into that?" Aytin asked, eyeing the oncoming cloud bank.

    "Faelon can handle it," Xantha assured him. "And if he can''t, well, at least we''re over land." She motioned downwards.

    Below them, the forested expanse of an island passed beneath them. They had been hugging the southern edge, but their turn was taking them deeper inland.

    "Why not just land? Maybe get under some cover?" Aytin thought he caught a glimpse of a smudge on a distant mesa. Maybe a keep? Some relic of an old attempt to expand the kingdom''s borders?

    It would sure be nice to weather the storm under a roof. Or even in a tent on the ground.

    But Xantha shook her head.

    "After all the time we wasted getting out here, I don''t think Reed is willing to spend the rest of the day on some unexplored island." At the younger dragonette''s doubtful look, she just laughed. "We''ll punch right through the storm and it''ll be smooth flying in no time. Trust me."

    "Xantha! Get your tail over here and help with this tarp!"

    She grimaced, but gave Aytin a pat on the back. "Sit tight. This won''t take long."

    The rest of the crew were all busy, but they didn''t seem to need his help. Aytin took the opportunity to make sure his coat was buttoned up, and then looked down towards the island below.

    Unlike his home, this island seemed more forest than grassland. Trees had been becoming more common on their journey, but it was vaguely unsettling to see so many in one place.

    The distant smudge from before had grown slightly. A small keep, although the lack of any nearby fields or outbuildings made it clear that the place was long abandoned.

    Trees surrounded the mesa, but one group stood out. It took a moment for the scale to register, but when it did, Aytin blinked in surprise.

    ''Heaven oaks! They must be!''

    None grew in the grasslands and deserts near Luffin Keep, but he knew of the sacred forest giants. Every dragonette had. And while he had already seen a number of groves on this journey, they were still a sight to behold.

    Yet, even if he knew that the heaven oaks were blessed by the gods, the idea of living among so many trees made Aytin vaguely uncomfortable. Forests were dark, shadowy places. An entire army of darklings could be camping out just below, and they would never know it until it was too late.

    As it turned out, the real danger was in the other direction.

    High above, unnoticed by anyone aboard Faelon, a patch of darker blue detached itself from the rest of the sky. It skimmed the edge of a cloud, staying out of sight of the dragonettes and red dragon below. They were all focused forward on the storm and never noticed the blue dragon begin its dive.

    A shout of surprise was the only warning Aytin had before the world exploded.

    The flash of lightning left him blinking away afterimages and all he could hear was a roar. But as he got his bearings, he realized that the roar was coming from Faelon, and it was a draconic scream of pain.

    At first it seemed like a terrible accident. That lightning from the oncoming storm had struck them. But then a streak of blue passed by, followed by yet another flash and boom. This time it was muted by the red dragon''s body, and Faelon lurched in midair.

    Nearly every dragonette stumbled from the sudden jerk. Only Reed and Xantha maintained their balance, both flaring their wings and digging talons into the webbing to remain standing.

    A dragonette Aytin had never seen before alighted on Faelon''s back. He was dressed in steel and leather armor, and held a short spear. He drove it into Voxin''s back as she tried to rise, and the tip dripped blue as he ripped it out again.

    More dragonettes landed, dressed in mismatched gear and with weapons drawn. They laid into the shocked crew without mercy.

    A few managed to fight back. Reed drew a small blade and rushed one of the better armed brigands. She caught his contemptuous slash on her left forearm and screamed as it sliced her to the bone, but then she was inside her foe''s guard.

    Reed drove her knife hilt deep into the brigand''s neck and was rewarded with a choking gurgle. Mortally wounded, the dragonette stumbled backwards and fell towards the island below.

    Against all odds, Bush had managed to draw Voxin''s sword. He was obviously unfamiliar with the weapon and still laying flat on his stomach where he had fallen, but he lashed out and was rewarded with a high pitched shriek.

    It wasn''t enough.

    The attackers had surprise on their side and the crew was completely unprepared. Their fate was a foregone conclusion.

    A taloned foot pinned Bush''s sword arm down. He thrashed against his attacker, but his struggles cut off when another drew a knife across his neck.

    Reed twisted towards the sound of the choked off scream, only for an arrow to slam into her breast. She stood there for a moment, wobbling, before another shaft buried itself in her stomach.

    It was too much. The merchant leader fell to her knees, before a sword came down on the back of her neck.

    Aytin was trying to rise, scrambling to draw his knife and knowing it would be futile when he was hit from the side. He had a fleeting glimpse of Xantha tackling him before he was tumbling through the air.

    Above, he could see Faelon struggling and failing to stay airborne. Something had torn a ragged hole in the dragon''s right wing, and that rent was widening by the second. Another patch of blackened scales marred his flank and a spray of blood trailed him like sapphire rain.

    Unable to go on, the great red dragon seemed to fold in on himself. Gravity took over and his dive turned into a fall as he disappeared into the billowing clouds below.

    Brigands leapt from the stricken dragon and took wing. Several spotted the pair of survivors, and they climbed towards them.

    In the clouds, he and Xantha might have a chance to evade their pursuers. From there, they could reach the forest below. The same trees that had seemed capable of concealing a darkling hoard might now be their salvation. If they could escape and make it to that keep he had spotted, they might-

    Aytin felt something prick his side. And then the world went black.

 Interlude 1: The Death of Bloodhorn

    Lynis, decorated lancer of the Royal Guard, Lord Luffin, and known throughout the kingdom as the Bloodhorn, stood, illuminated by the coals of a dying fire. He lifted his dripping knife in one hand as he used the other to hold his target in place. Deftly, he brought it down and smiled with satisfaction as it cut the flesh beneath to the bone.

    "I''ll never understand why you enjoy all of this so much."

    He turned and his smile grew, now tinged with genuine warmth. "You''ve never had to scrape and scrounge to make field rations edible."

    "And what if your legions of admirers could see you now, wearing an apron and covered in chicken blood?"

    Lynis looked down at himself and considered for a moment.

    "I''d invite them to dinner, and maybe have them join us upstairs tonight."

    He was nearly fast enough to dodge the wash towel aimed for his head. Nearly. But it caught on the little jog at the end of his left horn as he ducked. The damp cloth snagged and whipped around, wrapping itself across his snout. Blinded, he stumbled and only a nearby wall kept him from falling on his tail.

    The room''s other two occupants - both retainers on kitchen duty - laughed uproariously as the decorated hero scrambled to clear his vision. They were used to Lord Luffin''s antics, although he was careful to present an appropriate facade whenever not surrounded by those he trusted.

    Meanwhile, Norvinia - Lady Luffin - looked down at her mate with a haughty expression.

    "Are you ever going to learn proper respect?"

    "Nope," he cheerfully answered, and the laughter redoubled. Eventually, even Norvinia relented and cracked a smile.

    "Why do I put up with you, Lynis?"

    He actually seemed to take the question seriously, considering for several seconds as he picked himself up. "Well, short of the god Itova taking a liking to me, I really have no idea."

    "That makes both of us, then," she said with a shake of her head. "What are you making, anyway? I thought you''d be helping to wash up?"

    "Remember that book of recipes that Reed brought me last fall? I found one for slow cooked clay pot chicken. So I thought I''d throw it together for a midday snack tomorrow." Lynis pointed to the nearby cooking implements, chopped vegetables, meat, and spices. "And I still have some of the wine she brought, too."

    That last was accompanied by a suggestive raise of his eye ridges and flick of his ears.

    "Ohh, aren''t you sweet," she said, and there was just the barest hint of a purr in her voice. "But do you know what else you can do for me?"

    "Anything you want. Just say the word."

    "Well..." Norvinia let the word trail off and her mate leaned forward, only to be met with a tired sigh. "Actually, I need you to go and check on Stonar."

    Lynis''s face fell, but his earlier expression was quickly replaced with concern. "Is there something wrong?"

    "Something he ate, I think. He''s apparently been crying since dinner ended and no one can get him to stop."

    "Poor little guy." He winced in sympathy. "And the kid doesn''t eat enough as it is."

    "I know. I''d go down to the nursery myself, but we''re expecting the first spring trader any day now. The stack of winter reports is almost taller than I am, and I have to have them ready to send back to the capital."

    "No, I''ve got him," he told his mate. "You get to work, this should just take another few minutes and I''ll head straight down."

    "Thank you so much."

    Lynis''s grin returned, and he started to step forward. "You can thank me later."

    "No!" Her command stopped him in his tracks. "You are not getting chicken blood and dishwater all over this outfit!" She grabbed a clean towel from a rack and tossed it to him, more gently this time.

    Her mate snatched it from the air and wiped off his snout.

    "Better?"

    "Much better." And she closed the distance to give him an affectionate nuzzle.

    She didn''t have to lean far. They had sometimes joked about being a matched set, what with her being shorter than average for a female dragonette, the Bloodhorn''s stature brought him nearly eye to eye.

    "See you tonight?" he asked as they reluctantly separated.

    "I guess we''ll just have to see."

    Lady Luffin flicked an ear at him and then strode out of the kitchen, leaving her mate to finish his preparations. It mainly consisted of dumping all of the ingredients he had prepared into a big clay pot and adding a few spoonfuls of spices. In the morning, he''d put it in the coals and the chicken would be done by noon.

    It never got particularly cold during the day this far south - and thank the gods for that - but nights could be downright chilly. On an early spring night like this one the chicken would have no problem keeping overnight.

    He set the heavy clay lid on the pot and unbarred a window to slip the whole thing onto the cooling ledge. After that it was just a matter of cleaning up and he was ready to do his fatherly duty.

    The kitchen might be reasonably well lit, but this late in the evening the halls were a different matter. Lynis lit an oil lamp from a nearby candle and used it to light his way to the nursery.

    It was still hard for him to believe that after all those years, he would end up as the lord of a keep. Lynis, son of just another of the thousands of lower class workers who made up the capital''s workforce, first a royal guardsman and then a noble.

    ''At least mom lived to see the first. Even if she was worried sick about me being a lancer.''

    The lancers had been about the only ones willing to take him, given his background. Considering that any lancer called on to actually fight a dragon would be almost guaranteed to die in the attempt, they couldn''t afford to be as picky with recruits as the rest of the royal guard.

    While he had never been called on to perform the duty he had been trained for, lancers were often deployed throughout the kingdom. Usually to garrison vital locations or to support other units of the guard when hostile dragons could be involved. Over the years, those assignments had given him ample opportunity to distinguish himself.

    And to meet Norvinia.

    That thought never failed to make him smile, and he hummed contentedly as he walked up a flight of stairs.

    Luffin keep was large. It had been expanded several times over the years, sometimes in ways the original designers had never foreseen. That was why he had to climb up a level just to descend down into the nursery at the base of the keep. But after almost six years living there, the path was second nature.

    He had traveled that path for his firstborn daughter Zara. And for Suuie. And now for his son, Stonar.

    His eyes drifted to the hatchery door as he passed. The small room beyond contained all the eggs laid last fall. Including one that held his next child. It was still hard to believe that in just a few days or weeks, he would have one more reason to walk this path.

    Just down the hall from the hatchery was the nursery. Buried deep in the keep for protection, its location in this section of the keep gave the adults a modicum of privacy from the often manic children.

    The doors opened silently on well oiled hinges, revealing a dimly lit room covered in soft rugs. Toys overflowed from haphazardly filled chests and various bits of undersized furniture were scattered around. No one was inside, but he could see light and hear noises coming from one of the sleeping chambers.

    "Oh, thank the gods that you''re here," Jira whispered as Lynis entered. She was the minder tonight, and the woman was obviously worn ragged trying to settle the fussing hatchling. "See, Stoney, your daddy is here."

    "Daaaadddd!" the boy moaned and reached up towards his father.

    "Hey there, son." Lynis reached down and let Stonar grab his hand. The boy immediately pulled him closer, strong despite his small size.

    "Go ahead and get some rest," Lord Luffin told the watching Jira. "I''ll stay with him until he falls asleep."

    "Can''t sleep!" Stonar insisted. "Belly hurts!"

    The other dragonette wasted no time in extracting herself from the situation. With barely a nod of acknowledgement, she slipped out the door and shut it gently behind her. There were other children to check on, after all, and it was getting late.

    That left Lynis alone to take care of the sick four year old.

    "Well," he began, settling onto the bedside stool, "what do you think would make it feel better?"

    "Nothing!"

    "Nothing, huh? So you''ve tried everything, then? None of it worked?"

    The hatchling got this betrayed look on his face that almost sent Lynis into a fit of laughter. Years as a soldier and eventually a lord had given him the discipline to keep a straight face as his son shook his head.

    "Maybe we should try some things, huh? For me?"

    "...okay." The permission was given reluctantly, at best.

    There was a pitcher of water next to the bed and a cup nearby. Lynis filled it up and held it out to the boy. "How about you try drinking some of this. It will help." At the disbelieving look, he added, "I promise."

    Stonar took a few sips, which was something at least. But that was it.

    "Didn''t help!"

    "Give it a little while. Healing takes time. The wait is worth it."

    The boy scrunched up his face in denial. "Isn''t!"

    "It is. Waiting to heal is how I met your mommy. Did you know that?"

    "You had belly hurt?"

    "No," Lynis said. "I broke my wing fighting bad dragonettes. But some of them got away and my friends had to chase them, so they left me here to heal."

    "How long?" Stonar loved stories about his days as a lancer. With all the bad parts and most of his adventures while in garrison left out, of course.

    "Oh, weeks and weeks. Almost forever."

    He hadn''t actually broken his wing in battle. It had been a screw up on the way to an assignment. A poorly secured line that slipped and caught around the lancer''s wing when their dragon hit an unfortunate crosswind. The break had been bad enough that the commander of the expedition had ordered him left behind at their next stop.

    Lynis hadn''t been unfamiliar with keep life. Far from it. It wasn''t uncommon for lancers to get deployed to strategically important keeps. But in the past, he had always been with his wingmates. They had drilled and patrolled and generally kept busy throughout the assignments.

    After two decades spent either on duty or living out of a barracks in the big city, the prospect of leaping into the distant sea had almost seemed more appealing than a month or two healing in a frontier keep. At the time, at least.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    His son apparently agreed. "That''s a long time."

    "It was. And I couldn''t fight or fly for any of it. It was terrible! I had to work in the kitchens all day long!"

    "You still do that," Stonar pointed out.

    "Yeah, but I don''t do it all the time, now. And I do it now because I want to. I was stuck doing it back then."

    It always amazed Lynis how many of his fellow lancers thought he was crazy for learning how to cook. Not to mention that more than one visiting trader or noble had been shocked over the years to be served by the Bloodhorn himself. But it was something he always enjoyed, even before he joined the guard.

    He just didn''t like to be forced to cook, day after day, week after week. Well, not forced, exactly. No one was forcing him to do anything. But if there was one thing he hated more than monotony, it was standing by while someone else did work.

    Instead of explaining all of that to his son, Lynis had simplified things.

    "Now, your mom had only been Lady Luffin for a little while back then." Norvinia''s mother and father died in a tunnel collapse when touring the mines a few years before he arrived, leaving their eldest daughter to inherit much earlier than anyone expected. "So she was very busy with learning how to run the keep. But she made time to visit me while I worked."

    She had made time for more than that. As a lancer, he was used to having no shortage of willing women. A noblewoman was new, but he hadn''t complained at the time. It had been... fun.

    "We... well, the two of us had a lot of meals together." Also true. There had been a lot of private meals. "We liked each other a lot."

    And hadn''t that been a surprise? Both that she enjoyed his aggressive wisecracking, and he found himself more than willing to listen to her explain the intricacies of running a keep and the local politics that came with it. Norvinia was even willing to tolerate his tendency to flirt with anything that had two legs, two wings, and a pulse. As long as flirting was all he did.

    "So when my wing was healed and my friends returned, I told them that I''d be staying here, with your mom."

    They had tried to stop him, of course. But he had served his time and then some. And it helped his case that a certain noblewoman was more than happy to write up a petition for his discharge.

    He had also insisted that they stay long enough to witness the marriage ceremony, although he was pretty sure most of them enjoyed the feast that followed a whole lot more.

    "And I''ve been here ever since," Lynis finished. He had to take a deep breath. Leaving his old wing had been the only really hard part of the decision to quit the royal guard. A bunch of bastards, every one of them, but gods did he miss them. It still hurt, just a little, remembering the melancholy expressions on their faces as they left him behind on their way back to the capital.

    He forced himself to smile for Stonar''s benefit and asked, "So, how are you feeling now? Any better?"

    "A little," the boy replied. It seemed that the story had taken his mind off the pain long enough to settle down a little.

    "Tired?"

    He got a shaky nod in response. The drooping eyes were a dead giveaway.

    "Think that you can get to sleep now? I''ll stay with you until you do."

    "I''ll try."

    The hatchling curled up into a little ball and wiggled to get comfortable. Lynis pulled the blanket up to cover him, humming the melody from a song his mother used to sing to him. He didn''t dare to do more than that. His singing voice had started too many bar room brawls for him to have any illusions about his ability to carry a tune.

    Stonar''s breathing had just started to even out when a clatter from outside sent him jerking awake.

    "Daddy, what was that?"

    "Probably nothing. Go back to sleep, Stoney."

    But the boy shifted around, nervously. "I''m scared."

    "You want me to check on it?" He got a quick nod in response. "Alright, you stay here. I''ll be back in a minute."

    ''After I ream whoever''s out there a new one.''

    Grumbling silently to himself, Lynis made his way quietly out of the nursery and into the hallway beyond. There was definitely someone around the corner. He could hear shuffling and see the light from their lamp.

    Actually, there was a lot of light, and it was flickering far more than any lamp or candle ought to. Almost like they were carrying torches. But no one would risk a fire in the keep by doing that.

    He frowned as he turned the corner and came face to face with a corridor packed with black skinned darklings.

    He stood there, staring stupidly at the sight before him. But it only lasted for a bare moment before he hurled his clay lamp at the crowd and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "GUARDS! DARKLINGS IN THE KEEP!"

    The improvised incendiary shattered at the feet of the lead darkling. It hissed and leapt back, but there hadn''t been much oil in the reservoir to begin with. The flames did little more than singe its talons and the corrupted dragonette rushed forward.

    Lynis was wearing nothing but his tunic and a pair of pants. He had a small dagger at his belt, which he drew on reflex, but that was his only weapon. The monster charging him wore light armor and carried a warhammer. It should have been no contest.

    Except, these darklings were facing the Bloodhorn.

    He had fought darklings before. Many times in fact. And while the odds had never been quite this bad, he had other advantages over the unthinking servants of corruption.

    The first strike was aimed at his left shoulder and would have splintered the joint and driven its remains into his chest. Except Lynis wasn''t there. He had ducked and sidestepped, before darting forward well inside the guard of the overbalanced darkling.

    None of the invaders had a chance to react as the Bloodhorn immobilized his attacker''s arm with one hand while driving his dagger into the unprotected armpit with the other. He tried to grab the warhammer as it slipped from suddenly limp fingers, but a spasm sent it clattering against a wall.

    A spear came jabbing forward, faster than he should have been able to dodge. Lynis managed to just barely slip aside, batting the shaft away with a forearm. As it passed, he caught the weapon and yanked forward. The darkling holding it, already off balance from the lunge, tumbled forward to tangle among the legs of its fellows.

    It all happened in slow motion to the Bloodhorn. His magic allowed him to slow his perceptions, turning the frantic melee into a series of deliberate moves and countermoves. It was an ability that had served him well over the decades of combat.

    Only two darklings were on his side of the pile of squirming bodies. The first was a sword-armed former female judging by its height. Just behind her, his original attacker struggled to wield its recovered warhammer off-handed.

    Shouting a wordless warcry, Lynis darted forward to meet the pair. Once more, he called on his magic and slipped past a strike that should have put a gash in his side, twisting around the blade and stabbing into the darkling''s leg. The fountain of blue blood that followed told him that the strike had severed an artery. She fell, still trying to get at him, but unable to put weight on her wounded leg.

    Something slammed into his side. Lynis''s yell ended in an oof as the breath was driven out of him. The warhammer-armed darkling was trying to wind up for another swing. Luckily, the first strike had been off center and lacked the force of a proper strike. There would be a bruise, but nothing more.

    This time, the Bloodhorn went for the kill. Dodging the clumsy follow up strike, Lynis had no trouble coming around on the darkling''s injured side. A single slash from his dagger opened its neck wide open. Despite the mortal wound, it still tried to swing the hammer one more time. The Bloodhorn grabbed the shaft and wrenched it from weakening hands, getting a spurt of blue blood to his face for his trouble.

    Having gained a weapon and a little breathing room, Lynis took a moment to survey the situation. It... wasn''t good.

    There had to be dozens of them packed into the hallway.

    ''How did they...?''

    But the answer was obvious. A broken sally port. He had made sure there was a guard posted there while they waited for the blacksmith to finish new hinges. But no doubt her presence had served to highlight the weakness to a hidden watcher.

    Falling back was an option. There were more defensible points in the keep. The stairway, for one. He could easily hold that until the guards arrived. They should be scrambling his way with half the keep right behind them.

    "What''s going-"

    "Get back in and bar the door!" he roared to Jira, who had just poked her head around the corner.

    The minder obeyed immediately. The heavy nursery door slammed shut behind her.

    It also settled things. Whatever happened, he could not let the darklings take that door. Or the hatchery just beyond it.

    By this point, the mass of darklings was pushing forward once more. Not as an organized unit, thankfully. Had they formed a wall of shields and spears and advanced in lockstep, there wasn''t much Lynis could have done. Instead, they threw themselves at him as soon as they had a clear path to the lone defender.

    A hammer wasn''t his preferred weapon. That would be a lance or a spear. Something with a bit more reach than the arm length wooden haft. At least the back tapered into a nice, sharp point.

    ''If that darkling had hit me with that side, bad strike or not, I''d be bleeding instead of bruised right now.''

    He held the hammer in one hand, his dagger in the other, and met the oncoming darkling rush.

    They came two at a time, without anything in the way of tactics. Unfortunately, the front pair both had spears, as did one of the group immediately behind them. Even with magic, he couldn''t find an opening and was forced to give ground. First one step. Then another.

    The stone floor was slick with the lifeblood of the two dead or dying darklings. It was enough for one of the two frontline attackers to lose their footing. Just a minor stumble. A bare moment of vulnerability.

    With Lynis''s enhanced perception in play, the darkling might as well have fallen headlong to the floor.

    He exploited the momentary opening, rushing forward to bring the pointed spike of the warhammer down on the darkling''s helmeted head. The thin steel sheet did nothing to stop the impact and it instantly dropped in a boneless heap.

    Unfortunately, the hammer remained lodged in the helmet. It came free with a yank, tip smeared blue, but that delay almost proved fatal as the rearmost spearman thrust forward.

    Even magic had its limits. There was no way to dodge the incoming strike, but the Bloodhorn managed to turn just enough for the tip to graze his side rather than impale his gut.

    The pain sent him stumbling back, and the darklings took the opportunity to press forward. They were hampered by the bodies of their own dead and dying, but their corrupted souls held no loyalty save to their masters. The wounded were just obstacles to be avoided.

    An attacker with a hand-ax outpaced the others, probably due to its lack of armor. The ax was more of a tool than a weapon. Even reeling from his wound, Lynis caught its clumsy overhand swing with his hammer and stabbed into the darkling''s belly. Its scales resisted the thrust, but the hardened steel punched through. Once. Twice, Three times. A swift kick set the corpse-to-be stumbling back into its fellows and briefly hampered their advance.

    It couldn''t last.

    The one that took its place wore leather armor and carried a short sword. Probably a converted trader escort from the look of it. But together with the two remaining spearmen, they kept him at bay.

    Every time he got inside the spear points, the sword was there to drive him back. There didn''t seem to be any path to close the range. Not one that could avoid all of that sharpened steel.

    Lynis''s side was dripping blood as he dodged and parried. It wasn''t a mortal wound, but it was slowing him, and the blood loss would quickly mount. The fight had gone on for no more than a minute so far, and he was already panting for breath.

    They pushed him to the intersection. He stepped left, towards the nursery, in hopes that maybe the darklings would spread out through the other passages.

    They wouldn''t find much. Storerooms and crafting halls, mostly. The handful of bedchambers on this floor were behind him, past the nursery and near the stairs.

    But he had no such luck. Either the darklings had been ordered to kill anyone they saw or - more worryingly - they had a specific target in mind.

    It was no more than a handful of steps to the nursery. There were noises from above, now. Thumps and crashes from up the stairs. Help was coming, but how soon? He didn''t dare look back to check. Not when he was already devoting every bit of concentration towards blunting the darkling rush.

    And they still kept forcing him backwards.

    ''Too far... Can''t... I can''t... NO FURTHER!''

    He roared. The sudden noise failed to intimidate his foes but it filled him with determination. His hurled hammer whipped between the vanguard to smash point-first into the spear-wielder behind them. It was followed an instant later by the Bloodhorn, still screaming defiance.

    The charge took the attackers by surprise. He barreled into the front line. His dagger severed the tendons in the swordsman''s hand while his free hand flashed out to gouge the other''s face. An eye popped under his talons and he followed up by bringing his blade into the armored gap around its wings.

    Steel grated across ribs as he twisted and yanked. The darkling stumbled away, blood bubbling from the punctured lung.

    Lynis''s berserk scream took on a higher note as white hot pain shot through his left side. A darkling armed with a torch was winding up for another strike. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the converted guard raising its sword with its remaining hand. And more darklings were massing.

    Choosing the more dangerous of the two enemies, the Bloodhorn feinted for the torch-armed darkling before darting towards the other. His magic-fueled reactions let him raise his arm in time to deflect the thrust. Blood immediately welled in the shallow gash, and pain threatened to overwhelm him.

    But accepting the wound had allowed Lynis inside of the darkling''s guard. He brought a taloned foot up under the leather armor and hooked into the soft flesh of the darkling''s thigh. Wet blood soaked his foot as he drew back, taking a gasping breath.

    A torch flew past his head, followed by the clawing hands of its former owner. The Bloodhorn spun and slammed his head slightly. He once again earned his name as the sideways bend in his left horn scored a deep gash in the darkling''s neck. He followed up with a strike from the hilt of his dagger and was rewarded with the satisfying crunch of breaking vertebrae.

    Turning, he found himself face to face with his next opponent. This one wore a full helmet, only its coal black eyes and gray horns visible from behind soot-darkened steel. Chain link covered its arms and chest, and it held a battle ax in its blackened claws.

    Lynis barreled into the darkling and slammed it into the corridor wall. Too close to bring its weapon to bear, it tried to flail, but that did no good. The Bloodhorn drove his dagger straight through one of the eye slits and twisted.

    The strain was too much for the trusty blade. With a crack, the steel snapped. Lynis was left holding nothing but its leather wrapped hilt.

    Like an oncoming thundercloud, the darklings descended on the wounded and disarmed warrior. Spears and swords stabbed down. Taloned feet rent his flesh. He curled into a ball and the blows landed on his wings. The thin bones snapped like twigs and the agony drove away the last bit of conscious thought.

    Time passed. Seconds? Hours? Days? It was impossible to tell.

    Dimly, he could hear the sounds of battle. Clashing steel and slamming bodies. Cries of pain and triumph.

    ''Darklings... don''t yell...''

    His thoughts were muzzy as the world turned to a blue haze. He tried to move, but his limbs refused to answer. He... he couldn''t lift his neck. Even his eyelids were too heavy. Far too heavy.

    Something distant pounded away, louder and louder. Faster and faster. Fainter... and... fainter...

    High above, a distant star pulsed softly as the Bloodhorn exhaled a final, shuddering breath.

 Chapter 7: When Your Heroes Fall

    Aytin groaned.

    Somehow he had turned over in his sleep. Now his tail was kinked and his wings were complaining. He shifted slightly, and his shoulders joined into the rising chorus of aches and pains.

    Still, no one had come to wake him. He was so tired. He needed more sleep. But the pain just kept getting worse.

    Finally, he mustered the will to move. His arms fought him when he did. Somehow they had gotten tangled with his wings. His sleep fogged mind kept going back to all the knots Xantha had him tying and untying.

    "Need to get some water on them," he mumbled. Or tried to. His mouth was so dry that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and the whole thing came out garbled.

    It took more effort than it should have to pry his eyes open. They weren''t stuck. His eyelids just didn''t seem to want to respond.

    When he finally got them open, Aytin was greeted by the muted hues of a twilight sky. Whether it was dawn or dusk, he couldn''t say.

    The flickering light of a well-stoked campfire definitely implied the latter. And he certainly didn''t feel like he had slept through the night.

    Oddly, Aytin didn''t actually remember going to sleep. He had woken up in Lazon''s Rest, flown with Faelon for most of the morning, then there was the storm, and-

    Every bit of drowsiness left the young dragonette in a terror-fueled rush. He jerked and ropes around his arms and wings dug into flesh. Thrashing back and forth did nothing to loosen the bonds.

    He tried to get a talon into the knots, but whoever had tied them knew what they were doing. By bending a hand back until his wrist screamed in pain, he could just barely brush a talon against the knot.

    A silhouette blocked the light of the fire. Aytin looked up, trying to make out the figure in the dim light.

    "Well, well, look who''s finally awake."

    The voice was familiar, at least. "Xana?" Aytin croaked. "Thank the gods you''re-" He cut himself off as her appearance registered.

    She wore steel and leather armor, with the hilt of a saber glittering on her hip. A pair of dragonettes flanked her, but their relaxed demeanor made it clear that they were anything but guards.

    "I was worried about you," Xantha continued, ignoring the dawning horror on Aytin''s face. "Zan insisted that his concoction wouldn''t kill you. Then again, you are a scrawny runt of a dragonette, so it figures."

    Her voice dripped with scorn and the young dragonette flinched. It made no sense. She was Xantha. Affable. Patient. Good natured. Not... not this.

    She reached down and Aytin tried to jerk away from her grasp. Her mocking laughter rang in his ears as she hauled him upright, the rough stone scraping his back and wings.

    "He don''t look like much," the dragonette to the left commented. He was stocky, and practically had muscles on his muscles. "Sure he''s worth it?"

    "Of course he is. Aren''t you kid?" Xantha kicked him, and Aytin woofed in pain. "He''s not the son of the Lady in some crappy little frontier keep. No, you should see the place." She waved expansively at the crumbling walls around them. "Over a hundred strong, with plenty of fields and enough mines to practically mint their own coins. They''ll pay twice what we''ll get from whatever we find on that cowardly excuse for a red''s corpse."

    She leaned down close enough for Aytin to smell her breath. "They had better. Or else they''ll get back your tail, after we drop the rest of you over the side into hell."

    Aytin lunged, trying to latch onto her muzzle with his own razor teeth.

    She just dodged back with more mocking laughter. "Oh, you call that a fight? Pitiful. Gods damned pitiful."

    Another kick knocked Aytin sideways. This time it was accompanied by a line of fire as talons scored his flesh. "Son of Bloodhorn? He''d fucking disown you if he could see you like this. You know that, right?"

    Pain, terror, and rage warred in the young dragonette''s mind, along with the insidious suspicion that Xantha might be right.

    He had been useless back on Faelon. ''They all died, and I just stood there. I didn''t even draw my knife until Reed. Until she...''

    "I really did see the Bloodhorn once," Xantha went on, almost conversationally. "Even talked to him. He was quite the flirt, too. More than just a flirt if you caught his eye."

    She leered and Aytin ground his teeth together so hard he tasted blood.

    "I never did manage that, but one of my huntresses did. A pity she couldn''t have lured him out to the keep. He would have made an excellent guard captain."

    Aytin managed to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn''t stop a growl of raw fury.

    The other dragonettes just snickered. "Oh, come on, this is great news," Xantha said with mock cheer. "Think of all the brothers and sisters you never knew you had! You might even live to meet a few someday. Now hold still."

    He tried snapping at her once again, only to get a nasty backhand in response. "None of that! I need proof that we have you. Keep pissing me off and I''ll cut off that little stub of a horn you''re so proud of."

    She pulled him upright once more and there was the soft sound of a blade clearing its sheath. Aytin braced for pain, but none came. Xantha sliced through a corner of his shirt, and she rubbed the scrap roughly across his wounds. It was quickly stained blue with blood.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "There, that wasn''t so bad," she cooed like he was a hatchling with a scraped knee.

    "Any half trained mage should be able to tell that it came from you. Your family''s rich enough to afford one of those. And if they''re still not convinced, well, I do have your fancy little knife."

    She brought up her hand so that Aytin could get a good look at the blade in question. He instinctively reached for his belt, only for the ropes to bring him up short.

    "And once they''ve realized that their precious little boy really is in danger, I''m sure that they''ll be happy to pay a mere three hundred gold to see you back, healthy and whole. Speaking of which¡­"

    Xantha addressed her so far silent companion, a shorter female with mismatched armor criss-crossing her chest. "Nyx, get the kid some food."

    "Why the hell can''t you get it yourself?"

    Xantha turned slowly to face Nyx. "Because Del made me second in command of this outfit. When he let himself get killed by a fucking trader that left me in charge of you lot. So you''ll fucking well do what I tell you. Understood?"

    She glared back at Xantha, but the bigger dragonette didn''t blink. When Nyx moved a hand towards her sword, Xantha moved like only a trained fighter could.

    Nyx instinctively backed away from a wing flared towards her right side, but it was only a distraction. Xantha twisted inside of her subordinate''s guard. One hand found a wing root and gave it a savage yank, putting the other dragonette off balance.

    She caught herself, only to find a bronze knife at her throat. When she tried to pull away, Xantha twisted her other hand. A whimper of pain escaped Nyx''s lips as her wing twisted. It would only take a tiny bit more pressure to pop the limb out of its socket.

    "I asked you if you understood?" Xantha asked, mildly. She wasn''t even breathing hard.

    For her part, Nyx nearly broke her neck nodding. "Yes!" she gasped. "Yes, I understand!"

    "I understand, what?"

    Xantha twisted slightly, eliciting a keening groan from her victim. "Yes, boss!"

    "Good."

    Nyx fell to her knees, suddenly free of restraint. She quickly staggered to her feet, but kept her eyes down as she rubbed the abused muscles in her wing.

    "Well?" Xantha demanded. "Our young friend here is starving. Are you going to get him some food or not?"

    The dragonette nodded jerkily and then skulked off.

    "Now, as for you. Are you going to behave yourself?"

    It took Aytin a moment to realize she was talking to him, but even then he did his best not to give any indication that he had heard. Not that it mattered, because Xantha seemed to just want a chance to heap more scorn on him.

    "Let''s be clear. All you have to do is exactly what you''re told. No more, no less. Sit here, eat, sleep, count the clouds as they pass. It''ll be over in a few weeks and then this will all just be some bad memory you can lie to your hatchlings about.

    "But try and fuck me over... well, I''m sure your family would be happy to get you back reasonably intact."

    Her smile widened, and she twirled the knife slightly in her hand. She was daring him to try something.

    Aytin just continued to keep his mouth shut, staring off into the distance.

    A minute passed and then Xantha grinned. "Good talk, kid. You make sure to let Nyx know if you need anything, and I''ll see you in the morning." She waved a cheery goodbye as she walked off with her remaining companion.

    Slowly, Aytin let himself slide back down. His already abused back and wings screamed in protest, but he didn''t notice. He just sat, numb and unmoving.

    He didn''t even notice when Nyx slunk back over until she prodded him with her foot.

    "Here," she snapped, thrusting a handful of strips of dried meat at him.

    He looked up to the offered jerky and then at the bandit. "Do you expect me to eat out of your hand?" The words were utterly dead.

    Nyx wasn''t having any of it. "You can pick your dinner out of the dirt with your teeth if your lordship would prefer."

    Aytin thought about refusing. But he just couldn''t see a point. Snaking his neck forward, the young dragonette opened his mouth.

    "I feel teeth, you''re gonna feel a rock to the head," Nyx warned. She hefted a fist sized chunk of stone for emphasis, then extended a strip of meat.

    It was about the toughest, nastiest piece of jerky ever made. Rawhide toys for kids had more flavor and were easier to chew. Whoever prepared it had never bothered to trim the fat and gristle.

    Still, Aytin forced it down, along with the next piece and the one after that. Then he took a swig from the offered water skin. It was warm and brackish, but otherwise tasted clean enough. He drank greedily, his throat still parched from the sleeping drug.

    When he was done with his meal, his captor hauled him up and walked him behind a stone wall so he could relieve himself. With his arms tied behind his back, it was awkward and embarrassing, but he managed.

    It did give him a chance for a better look around his prison, or what little was visible in the fading light. They were in the shell of what once looked to have been a small keep or frontier outpost.

    That must have been a long time ago, however. A few scattered beams were all that remained of the interior timber framing. When that had given way, the floors they supported had followed. The ground was littered with the rotten remains of planking, and Aytin could see clear up to the emerging stars in most places.

    All that was left standing of the once proud keep were the four exterior stone walls, and time hadn''t exactly been kind to them. A big chunk of one was missing. Through the gap, the sky faded from purple to gray.

    Nyx left him staring across the rubble-strewn floor and towards that patch of sky while she went back to join her comrades by the fire.

    There were a number of them lounging there, males and females. A full crew, around twenty all told. They looked even rougher than the mercenary companies that occasionally visited Luffin Keep looking for work.

    A few cast glances his way. Some were curious. More were smug, or something darker. One or two actually had a note of pity.

    Aytin had thought that they were going to leave him alone for the night, but he had been mistaken. Nyx returned after just a few minutes, a bucket in hand and a malicious expression on her muzzle.

    "We can''t have you getting up to anything tonight, now can we?" That was his only warning before she doused him with water that felt cold enough to have come straight from the hellish ocean below.

    The effects of the soaking were immediate. As Nyx walked away laughing, Aytin could feel the chill seeping into him. His wet clothes and the bite of the early autumn night quickly conspired to sap the heat right out of him.

    Nearby, the fire crackled. Its sight and sound taunted him. The smell of woodsmoke reached Aytin, but none of the warmth.

    Dragonettes were cold blooded. Soon it would take a supreme effort of will just to stay conscious. Being unable to move just made that worse.

    He coughed, softly. The cough turned into a choked sob.

    Then the tears began.

 Chapter 8: All or Nothing

    For the first time in his life, Aytin was utterly alone.

    He''d been sent away by his family to travel with strangers. Strangers who actually seemed like they gave a damn about him. Now every single one of them was dead.

    Killed by the one who had never cared to begin with.

    He gritted his teeth against the sobs so hard that he tasted blood, and tried not to think of Xantha. Anything but her. Only, it turned out that the alternative was worse.

    His mother had sent him away. The family didn''t have a place for him at home. They didn''t want him. And if they didn''t want him, why would they pay a small fortune to get him back?

    It wasn''t like they could, even if they wanted to.

    Would he even be able to go back? To live in shame? His mere presence would be a stain on the Luffin name. A stain on his father''s name. The Son of Bloodhorn, captured and ransomed. He never fought back, never even so much as scratched his captors.

    What would his dad have done? Probably spotted the ambush and killed half the bandits single handedly, and then rammed a lance through their dragon''s heart. He would have recognized Xantha for the traitor she was, too.

    He''d never have been taken in by her lies.

    ''But he was, wasn''t he?'' an insidious voice whispered in Aytin''s mind. ''She spoke to him, maybe more than just spoke to him. And he never saw through her.''

    He growled and strained with all his might at his bonds. Pain burned along his forearms and wings as the rope scraped flesh raw, and his joints burned with effort. He collapsed back against the wall, gasping. None of the knots had so much as budged.

    The gasps turned to whimpers. They turned into snarls once more, anger at his own weakness driving him to try again. And again.

    All the bursts of rage and frustration fueled effort got him were bruises and rope burns.

    ''Lin will miss me,'' Aytin muzzily thought to himself.

    The cold was beginning to seep into him and sap his strength, but the warm stone at his back reminded him of the afternoons the pair had spent atop the keep.

    One would throw things. Sticks, shiny pebbles, fruit. Stonar''s guard belt on one particularly eventful day. The other would dive to catch them.

    It was a race against gravity. They''d pretend that they were Tonselra players, sometimes doing tricks or acrobatics before pulling up at the last moment. It was a miracle that neither ended up with more than the odd bruise.

    When they were exhausted, they would lay against the sun-baked stones, basking in the warmth. Eventually, someone always found them and sent them back to their lessons or their chores. But until then, they could just relax.

    Thinking back, Aytin suspected that their minders knew exactly what was going on. They thought they were so tricky, sneaking through the corridors, only flying on the far side of the tower, and extracting oaths of secrecy from any guard that happened across them. But despite their flights on full display for the world to see, somehow the top of the keep was always the last place searchers looked.

    Twilight had long since faded by the time Aytin''s eyes dried. A small smile was on his face as he remembered better days, the memory of the keep''s warm walls so vivid that he could actually feel it.

    The bandits had turned in for the night, save for a pair of guards close to the fire. They mostly kept their eyes on the ground level entrance and the holes in the roof and wall, but every once in a while they would glance back towards their prisoner.

    The odd thing was, Aytin wasn''t feeling the effects of the cold so strongly anymore. He was tired. More than tired. Absolutely exhausted. But all things considered, he wasn''t nearly as lethargic as he ought to be.

    Fatigue and the lingering effects of the poison made it take longer than it should have for him to realize the answer. It came to him in the end. He wasn''t just imagining the feeling of warmth against his wings! The stone wall he was propped up against was somehow warming him.

    Playing a hunch, he made sure the guards weren''t paying him any attention and then scooted a wingspan to his left. The wall cooled noticeably and he quickly shifted back.

    There was nothing at all to explain the pocket of heat. ''Could there be an artifact hidden in the walls?'' His hopes soared at the thought. Some enchanted weapon of legend was hidden here, and all he needed to do was find the loose stone that hid it!

    He shifted, trying to get a hand past his wings to touch the wall beyond. With the way both sets of limbs were bound, that was impossible. He tried anyway, but stopped when he realized that the struggles were sure to draw the guards'' attention.

    Aytin shot a furtive glance back towards the rest of the camp. The pair on watch were both looking out the hole in the wall, quietly talking to one another. They hadn''t heard a thing.

    The sight of the hole triggered a realization. It was the opening that had let the last rays of the sun into the ruins of the keep. Rays that, judging by the size of the gap, would have left a wide stretch of the dark stone comfortably warm for hours.

    Hopes dashed, Aytin slumped once more. He wasn''t saved. He hadn''t found some magical escape.

    But those hopes didn''t die completely.

    It was obvious that Xantha and her crew expected the cold to do most of their work for them. He should have been comatose not long after his soaking. Little more than a piece of furniture. But that wasn''t the case.

    There was plenty of rubble on the floor. It wasn''t hard to find an appropriately sized chunk by feel. Getting it positioned was painful, and Aytin had to freeze as a guard glanced his way. They turned away after a cursory look, and he grasped his prize.

    A chunk of broken masonry was hardly a knife. It didn''t help that the angle was awkward and leverage was nonexistent. Nonetheless, the rope was only woven plant fibers. Every motion of the stone frayed a few strands of the bindings.

    Aytin tried to keep track of time by counting his heartbeats. At four hundred and twenty his right hand cramped so hard that he nearly dropped his improvised knife.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Only by pushing back and painfully trapping the rock between his back and wings did he manage to keep it from clattering to the ground. It made a soft scraping of stone against stone and he shot a terrified glance at the guards.

    Neither had noticed. After a moment to be sure he was safe, Aytin switched hands and continued his task.

    At seven hundred and fifty-three beats, he lost count. He started over. And again when he hit a thousand beats.

    Was the wall starting to cool? It didn''t matter. Aytin kept working.

    The stone slipped and scraped painfully across his back. He clamped his mouth shut against the instinctive cry. His count had been four hundred and twenty-two. He started over.

    Another six hundred and fifty-five heartbeats passed before it finally happened. The final strand parted and his arm came free.

    The abused dragonette almost didn''t notice his newfound freedom. Only the pain of the rock scratching against raw rope burns snapped him out of his fugue state.

    Neither guard was paying attention, so he carefully freed his wings from their bindings. They weren''t nearly as tight as the ones that had held his arms together, just simple loops of rope around arms and wings that prevented him from extending his wings more than halfway.

    It was the matter of moments to slip his arms out and untie the loops. With all the practice he had gotten on the trip, he could identify the knots by touch alone.

    Fantasies passed through Aytin''s mind as the last bonds fell away. He saw himself picking up the rock once more and using it to bash in the skulls of the guards. Then he''d take their weapons and slit the throat of every one of the brigands. And then he would wake up Xantha just before he pinned her to the ground with a spear through her black, traitorous heart.

    But he couldn''t do it.

    Every fiber of his being screamed to be like his father. His brother Stonar would have fought every step of the way. Zara would have had a plan to bury the murderers in the keep as she brought it down on their heads. Suuie would have snapped the ropes binding her and torn Xantha in half with her bare hands.

    Aytin wasn''t like any of them.

    He wasn''t even like Lin. She was a huntress. Strong, fast, skilled, confident... brave.

    ''I''m not a coward!'' The thought rang so loud through his mind that he was suddenly terrified that a guard had managed to hear. But, no, they were both completely unaware that their prisoner was free.

    The doubts redoubled. A coward flinched at every noise. A coward ran at the first opportunity. In the face of impossible odds, the brave stood and fought and won.

    And Aytin?

    He knew, deep down, that he couldn''t win. He probably couldn''t even force them to kill him. They would just beat him senseless. Maybe cut off his horns like Xantha had threatened, and then tie him up so tight that he wouldn''t have another chance at freedom.

    ''I''ll bring back help. A wing of the Royal Guard!'' That was it! He would find soldiers. They patrolled the region, going between keeps and settlements to secure trade routes. That must have been why Xantha had lied about the storm, to get them far away from any potential rescue.

    He would find his way back. He knew enough about the sun and stars to find north. Then he would fly west to Lazon''s Rest. Someone there would know how to get in touch with the guard, and then he could lead them back to this island. He''d insist on being part of the expedition.

    Because he was no coward!

    Joints stiff from long immobility were beginning to loosen. Aytin shifted his wings experimentally. They ached, but not enough to keep him grounded.

    Winning any races would be out of the question. The guards would undoubtedly give chase as soon as they noticed he was gone. But if he could make it to the forest he could disappear before they caught up to him. Below their canopy, he''d be impossible to find.

    It was funny, the forest that had made him uncomfortable to fly over would be his salvation. He didn''t know quite what to think of that.

    A guard looked his way and he made certain his head was slumped and eyes lidded. Once he was certain no one was looking his way, Aytin moved.

    His first stop was a trail bag some brigand had left laying nearby. He crept over as fast as he dared and slung it over one shoulder. It had some heft to it, which was reassuring.

    Damp clothes and a rock alone wouldn''t get him far. He''d need food and tools.

    The brigands had made their latrine behind a pile of stones that had once been an interior wall. Aytin ignored the stench and the bucket it came from, instead focusing on the alcove''s more attractive feature: the window.

    When the keep was new, it was little more than a slit to let in light and air. But time and the elements had changed that. Now it resembled an oval hole more than anything.

    The gap was still small - smaller than most dragonettes could hope to fit through - but for once Aytin''s stature worked in his favor.

    His feet slipped on a layer of foul smelling slime as he edged into the gap. It was obvious how the group had gone about emptying their makeshift chamberpot. He tried his best not to think about it. That was difficult when he could feel the grime sticking to his wings as he squeezed them through the window. It wasn''t enough to slow him down for even a moment.

    As soon as he was out, Aytin started sprinting. His wings were still stiff, and didn''t quite want to catch the air properly.

    The mesa ended in a short cliff. Just enough to make for a painful fall. Maybe break a bone on a bad landing.

    For the first time, Aytin hesitated. Getting so far only to cripple himself would be the worst irony.

    ''Maybe I should go on foot.''

    He glanced backward. The keep was silent. No one had noticed his absence. There might be time.

    Movement caught his eye. His heart hammered, but a second glance showed nothing there. It was just shifting shadows from the fire.

    Still jumpy from the scare, Aytin didn''t hesitate any longer. He threw himself off the edge of the cliff and into open air.

    The fall carried him to within a scale''s breadth of the jagged ground below. The bag he had stolen and slung over one shoulder actually smacked into a protruding rock, but he ignored it. He also ignored the wing muscles screaming in pain. He just pushed on, towards the dark mass of the treeline in the distance.

    Altitude was usually a dragonette''s friend. Aytin skimmed just above the ground, only high enough to avoid the odd shrub in his path.

    Going higher would cost speed. Speed that was precious, because safety was further than he had hoped.

    Either the rise the keep was built on had never been heavily forested or its former owners had cleared it. Trees surrounded it a short flight away, but even a short flight was too long.

    There hadn''t been any shouts from the keep. Hopefully that meant no one had noticed his escape and not that the whistling wind was just drowning them out. ''It has to be too late, anyway. I''m halfway there. They couldn''t hope to catch me now.''

    The pain and stiffness were beginning to fade. Flying was easier with each wingbeat.

    Aytin continued to push himself harder. His heart hammered and despite the cold wind and damp clothes, he felt like he was sitting right in front of a roaring fire.

    Dragonettes could only keep up a sprint for so long before overheating, and Aytin had never had much in the way of stamina. But the trees were so close that he could almost reach out and touch them.

    He would make it.

    Once he reached the safety of the forest he could slow down. He supposed he would have to, if only to dodge the densely packed trunks. It wasn''t like he was a Tonselra competitor or anything. But as long as no one was on his tail he could take his time weaving between the trees until he was well past the point where anyone could hope to find him.

    Aytin craned his neck around to check for pursuers. The keep still sat silently in the distance.

    Something pulled his gaze upwards, above him. He was just in time to see a massive talloned foot descending to pluck him out of the air.

 Chapter 9: Broken Wing

    The blue dragon dropped Aytin unceremoniously at the foot of the derelict keep. He rolled to a stop, picking up half a dozen new bruises and scrapes in the process. Before the young dragonette could recover he found himself roughly dragged to his feat by a pair of snarling brigands.

    There was a thump as the dragon flared and landed not far away. He was massive compared to the dragonettes nearby, but a fair bit smaller than Faelon had been. Blues tended towards speed and agility more than other colors, and their builds reflected it..

    "Is he in one piece?" Xantha demanded, striding out of the crumbling entryway.

    "I was gentle," the dragon rumbled.

    "That''s not what I asked," she replied, mildly.

    The brigand leader grabbed Aytin''s head and yanked it upwards. He just hung limply in the guards'' grasp. After a moment''s examination she dropped him. "Looks intact. Good work Kalthor."

    The dragon - Kalthor, apparently - seemed unimpressed. "You owe me a deer."

    "So I do, so I do." Xantha nodded absently. "Didn''t I tell you that he would be stupid enough to try something on the first night? The first fucking night. Not that I expected him to even get past the walls." She shot a glare at the two dragonettes still restraining Aytin. "But it never hurts to be careful."

    "At least now I get to sleep," the blue dragon growled. "I want the deer over the fire by the time I wake up."

    "Late afternoon, then. Easy enough."

    With a grumble like grinding boulders, Kalthor stalked around the keep''s walls. The ground shook slightly as he dropped to the ground.

    "Now," Xantha said, with false cheer in her voice. "Let''s get out of the cold."

    They hauled him in front of the fire. Someone dumped an armful of wood onto it and the flames quickly rose, filling the space with light and heat.

    The commotion had woken up the rest of the band. Most stared at Aytin like a pack of hungry wolves would watch at a fawn that had wandered into their den.

    "You know, you shouldn''t have done that."

    Xantha''s tone was mild, like a master pointing out her apprentice''s minor error. It was the same one she had used throughout the trip as she explained the ins and outs of being a part of a trader''s crew.

    Aytin didn''t even blink. Not out of any courage or defiance. Utter defeat left him dead inside, staring off into the dark night.

    The traitor didn''t care. She just kept right on going.

    "I don''t just mean your timing was stupid. It was, but that''s not the point. What I mean, is that there will have to be consequences."

    She pulled a knife from her belt. The sight of it drew Aytin from his stupor, because once more she had drawn his knife. The one his sister Lin had given him.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Xantha smiled wickedly at his flicker of recognition. She waved the blade in front of his eyes like some sort of talisman. And then she tossed it into the fire.

    Aytin had been expecting to have his head wrenched down and feel the bite of his own blade against the base of his horn. That was what the brigand leader had promised after all.

    So when the knife fell into the flames, he didn''t quite register what had happened. Not at first. But when he did, he started screaming and struggling like someone had plunged the blade into his belly.

    The open handed slap whipped his head sideways. Then Xantha crushed his snout in an iron grip. "Shut up," she snarled, her face a hand''s breadth from his. He could smell her breath through his desperate snorts.

    The leather wrapped handle began to smolder as Aytin watched. A high pitched keen of pain grew from deep in his throat as it caught fire and the turquoise setting began to yellow. It immediately began to crackle like a handful of dry grass.

    "I supposed it''s too much to ask that you behave," she muttered. "Still, I guess that it''s better for you to get that out of your system now, while I''m still around."

    Without warning, she grabbed one of his wing roots and twisted. The bone creaked and his joint felt like it was about to pop. Aytin tried to gasp, but his mouth was still held tight in her other hand.

    "It really is a pity that I can''t just smash these and be done with it. There isn''t much money in returning a crippled goods. Although, personally, I''d do this for free." Her grin showed off the razor tips of her teeth.

    "Hate doesn''t fill your belly," Nyx called out from the crowd.

    Xantha''s grin only widened. "It doesn''t. But it''s nice when you can have both."

    She released Aytin''s snout. His whine had long since faded away. His gaze remained locked on his knife half buried in the coals.

    Everything but the bronze base metal was gone. Even the turquoise had cracked and crumbled away. Soon enough the heat would be too much and the metal itself would sag and melt into nothing more than a dull golden lump.

    "In another couple of days, I''m going on a little trip," Xantha said. "Someone has to go tell your mom and dad that their precious boy has fallen in with a bad crowd. Obviously not me personally. Unlike you." She flicked him on the nose. "I''m not stupid or naive enough to think they would hesitate to grab me or anyone here."

    She gave him a look that implied she thought he would be that stupid. "But I need to be there to coordinate.

    "And that brings us back to... consequences." She drew the word out, relishing it like a cup of hot tea on a cold morning.

    "This? This is all the consequence of your parents'' actions. Propping up an uncaring king and his vengeful court. Fucking egg thieving heartless traitors, the lot of them. Gods willing, they''ll get what''s coming to them someday."

    Had the circumstances been any different, Aytin might have laughed at the irony in the words. Cold, exhausted, and beaten, he didn''t even have the energy to recognize it.

    "You, though," Xantha growled, her eyes narrowing. "Your consequences are a bit more immediate."

    She still held him by the wing and she gave him a shake. Aytin flopped like a sack of grain, much to the amusement of the crowd.

    "You might look like a drowned hatchling right now, but I can''t trust that you''ve learned your lesson. That you should''ve just sat your ass down and accepted the way things are. And that means I have a problem."

    The sigh that followed was theatrical enough to be at home in any wandering minstrel''s performance.

    "See, I''m about to have to leave you here for weeks. And I can''t have you trying to run away every time one of the crew has to turn their back." She looked pointedly at several other dragonettes.

    "So, tell me, does a pampered brat like you know how they treat a gash to the wing?" Xantha meant the odd question to be rhetorical because she didn''t pause for an instant.

    "If you''re lucky, there''s a healer who can rejoin the membrane. Then it''s just a matter of a few days of rest and you''re back in the air.

    "Or if you''re one of the masses who can''t afford the gold a healer demands, some fine stitchwork and an apothecary''s salve will eventually heal you right up. It might take a bit longer, hurt a lot more, scar horribly, and never be quite as good as it was before. But." And at this, her tone turned sadistically gleeful. "That''s the price of not being one of the elite."

    Even through his exhaustion and despair, Aytin realized where she was going. He started writhing once again. Shouting, screaming his throat raw.

    Xantha just tightened her grip and moved to avoid his uncoordinated thrashing.

    "But suppose you don''t have any of that?" She continued, raising her voice to be heard over the desperate screams. "Suppose the wound were old and sealed. A healer can''t heal a scar, after all."

    Her arm twisted, and Aytin found himself toppling to all fours as the guards released him. Then someone kicked an arm out from under him and he fell flat on his face. A heavy weight descended to press against the small of his back, pinning him there.

    "In that case," Xantha went on, "you would have to have someone cut the edges. Reopen the wounds, so there''s enough raw flesh for magic or mundane healing to work with. It''s quite a painful process. But it''s the only way to ever fly again once a wing gash has healed."

    Aytin wasn''t screaming anymore. He was panting. Hyperventilating. A wordless frantic grunting as he pulled and kicked and lashed his tail. Spittle flew as he thrashed his neck back and forth.

    But at a gesture from their leader, two more dragonettes joined his captors. They were all females, and big ones at that. They held him tight and pulled his left wing to full extension.

    Instead of drawing the sword at her hip, Xantha strode to the fire. With no more ceremony than rolling up her tunic sleeve, she thrust her arm into the flames. Aytin''s eyes went wide as she withdrew the bronze blade from the coals.

    It should have seared her flesh to the bone. The edge of the blade glowed the faintest red against the darkness and smoke wafted gently from the charred surface. But she held it like it had only been sitting in the sun on a hot summer day.

    "I probably should have mentioned that I lied to you about my magic," Xantha said with a faint smirk, eyes glowing bright as she approached. "But even you should have figured that out by now."

    She raised the blade, now dark with soot, and brought it down on his exposed wing.

    There was a sizzle, the smell of burnt meat, and Aytin screamed.

 Chapter 10: Beyond Words

    Dawn brought with it a drizzling fog. Cold drops of water dripped through the nearly nonexistent roof. Those who were already awake shook their fellows. There were grumbles, but they shrugged into overcoats and moved their gear below tarps.

    Aytin''s place near the wall gave him some protection from the rain. It was a small mercy.

    The pain had receded. A little, at least. Enough that he had managed to nod off for a few hours.

    Nonetheless, the whites of his eyes were shot with streaks of blue. His ears drooped and all he could bring himself to do was stare out into the mists.

    They hadn''t even tied him up. They hadn''t needed to.

    Wind blew through the hole in the keep''s wall. It sent his half-extended wings fluttering and drew a hiss as the pain renewed. He wanted to furl them, but he knew from experience how badly it would hurt if he tried.

    Vertical gashes ran down each wing, ending just shy of their lower edges. Each wound was twice as long as his hand, and swollen with angry bruising around it. Instead of blood, a pale-blue fluid oozed and crusted the cauterized membrane.

    Aytin couldn''t fly like that.

    Even if the wing didn''t tear, even if he could stand the agony, he would never be able to get off the ground. There would be no flying away. No escape into the forest. He was tied to the ground more firmly than any chains could hope to manage.

    Talons clacked on stone as someone approached. It really didn''t matter who. Some of the guards had wandered over to gawk at their crippled prisoner. Aytin had done his best to ignore them.

    The figure stopped nearby. After a few moments of silence, he nudged Aytin in the side with his foot.

    "You just going to stare out there forever?"

    The question wasn''t worth answering, so Aytin just grunted. He heard a snort in reply.

    "Look, I don''t really care. But Xantha told me to make sure you eat. So you''re going to one way or another."

    A bowl was waved in front of him. The scent of stewed grains and a hint of fat wafted from it. No meat, and the portion was meager; barely enough to live on. Aytin gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the food, but his stomach chose that moment to let out a deep gurgle.

    "So, what''s it gonna be? Feed yourself? Or will I have to pry your mouth open and dump it down your throat?" When he didn''t get an answer the brigand gave him another nudge, this time a little more forcefully. "Well? I''d rather do this the easy way, but somehow I don''t think you''d put up much of a fight."

    For the first time, he turned to face his jailer. The stocky dragonette was vaguely recognizable as the male who had been at Xantha''s side when he first woke up in this hell. He certainly looked like someone capable of tying the younger dragonette into knots. The male reminded Aytin of a shorter, older, and even more muscular version of his brother Stonar.

    Outwardly, at least. ''Stonar would have died before joining these traitors.''

    Resisting would probably be futile. It could be satisfying, though. Knocking the bowl into the bastard''s face. A tiny bit of defiance, to prove at least to himself that he wasn''t a coward.

    In the end, though, hunger won out. He silently extended a hand, and the other dragonette deposited a bowl full of porridge into it.

    "The new boss says you''re gonna make us a lot of money," the so far unnamed brigand mentioned casually, as Aytin began to mechanically spoon gruel into his mouth.

    When no response came, he went on like they were just a couple of acquaintances discussing the weather. "Personally, I''m not sure you''re worth three hundred gold. We probably won''t be able to get anywhere near that for the dragon''s cargo once we find it. What do you think? How much are you worth to your family?"

    Aytin felt the spoon scrape the bottom of the bowl. Despite everything, the meal was good. It helped cut back the gnawing hunger he hadn''t even realized was building inside of him.

    "Well, I figure Xantha probably knows what she''s talking about, seeing as she used to be a noble and all."

    Despite everything, a flicker of curiosity rose in the young dragonette. He squashed it, instead offering up the empty bowl.

    His captor took it, seeming a little bemused. "You aren''t much of a talker, are you?"

    "You should have seen him yesterday, Tonin," Xantha said as she approached the pair. "He wouldn''t shut up."

    "Hells, I heard him last night. He might not be a talker, but he''s definitely a screamer." The brigand - Tonin apparently - laughed at his own joke.

    Xantha gave a small chuckle of her own. "Oh, that''s certainly true. But I take it from the lack of any screams this morning that he ate his breakfast all on his own."

    "Every last bite."

    "Good. He''ll need his strength." She took a step towards Aytin who couldn''t suppress the flinch. "Oh, gods, you really are a coward. Listen, since Tonin here says you ate all your vegetables-" The dragonette in question nodded affably. "-I know you''ve been behaving. And as long as you behave, there won''t be any consequences. Got it?"

    When Aytin didn''t answer, her eyes narrowed. "I asked if you understood?"

    At the dangerous glint in her eyes, he gave a small nod.

    "Good enough."

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    "You sure that we can''t just take him with us? He''ll probably behave better with you to keep him in line." Xantha raised an eye ridge at Tonin, and he shrugged. "Just seems like it might be easier to drag him along, you know?"

    "It''s going to be a two week flight if we don''t run into any trouble. Then at least a week of negotiation, if we''re lucky. Do you want to have to deal with him taking up space on Kalthor''s back that whole time? And even the most closed-mouthed settlements along the way will ask questions about him."

    Her subordinate seemed to accept the argument at face value. "Fair enough. As long as I get paid, it doesn''t mean much to me. And we''ve got to come back for that dragon''s corpse, anyway."

    Xantha scowled, and Aytin felt a tiny glow of satisfaction. Apparently they hadn''t managed to locate Faelon''s body or the cargo he had carried. Even having to go through the black market, the goods he had been carrying were worth enough for everyone in the band to live well for a year. Maybe more, if they had survived the crash in decent shape.

    The longer they sat exposed to the elements, the less that these brigands would be able to profit from their murders. That was worth something, at least.

    "They''ll find it while we''re gone. Then we drop him," Xantha nudged Aytin with a foot, "off at Lazon''s Rest."

    "Or into the ocean."

    "Or that." Xantha agreed. "We''ll drop him somewhere on the way to find an out of the way keep to pass the winter at."

    "Works for me, boss," Tonin said, not really sounding like he cared one way or another.

    "Now, Zan is about to get started working on Jenessium. Her wound needs cleaning out, and he''ll need help holding her down."

    The male stretched in response, coincidentally showing off his muscular form. "I guess I can help with that. Good talking to ya, kid." With an ironic salute, Tonin turned and walked back over to the fire, leaving Xantha alone with Aytin.

    She watched as he walked away before speaking. "Bush managed to cut her leg to the bone. Zan thinks he can save it, but we might have to drop her off at a settlement along the way. There are a couple with decent healers that won''t ask any questions. Not magical, sadly, but properly trained at least."

    The brigand leader actually sounded a little concerned for her subordinate. That was a big change from her sadistic mania of the day before. She almost sounded like her old self from the journey.

    ''Her fake self,'' Aytin reminded himself. ''Her mask.''

    "Zan''s good at what he does, though. Pity he can''t come along, but I need someone here I can trust."

    "Why?"

    It was the first word Aytin had spoken since they had recaptured him. Since Xantha had mutilated him. She raised an eyeridge in surprise.

    "Well, that should be pretty obvious, even for you. I can''t exactly go running off to the royal guard if someone screws me over."

    "No." Aytin shook his head slowly, then raised it to take in the surrounding camp.

    "You mean why did I join a trade crew, befriend them, then lead them into an ambush at the edge of the frontier?"

    The young dragonette just glared at her.

    "Well, it''s not exactly the first time we''ve pulled off this particular plan. Been a few years, but a dragon-load of cargo will last a long time. Especially when you know where all the good stuff is." She pulled a small key from a pouch at her belt. It looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn''t place where he had seen it before.

    "Reed kept all the good stuff locked away. But with this, I won''t need to find a mage to break the lockbox''s enchantments. Those bitches are always expensive."

    Now Aytin remembered where he had seen it. Back when he and Bush had gone to the silver mines all those weeks ago. The young trader had used the key to store away their payment for the equipment delivery.

    "Now, you did make things a bit more complicated, but it''ll all be worth it. Either we get paid twice, or..." She trailed off suggestively, and a bit of the sadistic glee from the night before returned.

    Aytin''s face must have betrayed the question he wanted to ask, because Xantha snorted. "Don''t tell me. You want to know ''Why?''"

    His mute nod was enough.

    "I''ll tell you why. You nobles are all the same. None of you ever did a gods damn thing to earn your place above all the rest of us.

    "I fought tooth and talon to get to where you were born to! I joined the guard, hunted down the well connected officers, sucked up to them until I got into the right circles. Found a young noble from House Carnot and got him to fall in love with me. I made it! Understand?!" She grabbed Aytin and shook him violently. "I made it!

    "And then the idiot snags his wing on a tree and breaks his back in the fall." Releasing her captive, she clinched her hands into fists and brought her lips back in a snarl.

    "His family wanted me gone, of course. They couldn''t tolerate someone like me invading their safe little space. But Kesti had hatched by then. Our daughter. They couldn''t throw her out as well.

    "So they sent us out to one of their keeps. Made me leader of a group of huntresses there and set me up to fail. They second guessed everything I did. Tried to mess with my girls. Sent my huntresses out to meet impossible goals and berated me when they couldn''t meet them. All out in the middle of fucking nowhere.

    "The only chance I get to see civilization again is arranging a shipment of supplies in the capital. And I get it done with gold to spare! But it was the fucking dry season, so of course there shouldn''t have been any storm! You wondered how I got this?" Xantha yanked up her sleeve to expose the burn scar he had seen the first day they met. It was a flowing patch of silvery hide that covered most of the underside of her left forearm.

    "The damn alchemist probably knew. Why else would he ask for so much frost powder? Enough that when it got wet, it froze half the cargo solid!

    "The fucking Carnot''s didn''t even have the decency to get a healer for me, even if I got injured trying to save their damn stuff. They just kicked me out. No warning. No consideration for years of work. Just handed me a couple of gold and told me to leave.

    "And then they stole my fucking daughter!"

    Aytin jerked back as spittle spattered his face. The entire camp went silent, staring their way.

    Finally realizing how far she had gone, Xantha twisted to glare at her subordinates. Under her withering gaze, most immediately turned to look at anything else. Once she was satisfied, she returned her attention to the young dragonette in front of her.

    "You wanted to know why?" she asked, quieter but with no less malice. "That''s why."

    "I''ve never even met a Carnot!" Aytin protested, finally finding his voice.

    In response, Xantha grabbed him by the horn and pulled his face close. "Do you think I give a single gods damn shit about that?!"

    He found himself thrown back hard and his skull cracked against the stone wall.

    "Carnot, Luffin, I got to know enough noble trash to know the truth. You''re all the same. Overconfident. Lazy. Worthless. Cowards."

    She stalked off, leaving Aytin shaking his head as stars danced across his vision.

 Chapter 11: Scars

    "Wake up you lazy pile of shit!"

    The shout was accompanied by a kick to the belly. Aytin whooped and jerked, instinctively curling into a ball.

    "I said get up! There''s work to do!"

    Aytin cracked his eyes and slowly forced cold numbed muscles to work. They had doused him again last night. Just like every night since Xantha had left. And they made sure to use enough that no simple heated stone would keep him from succumbing to the cold.

    There was no use lingering. They would just withhold his food. Or beat him. Usually both. He shoved himself to his knees as well as his bound hands would allow.

    They had started tying him up again, too. At least it was only at night, and only in front. After all, it wasn''t like he could fly anywhere. He rustled his wings on instinct and winced.

    The gashes in his wings itched and burned, vertical slashes of dark bruising. Both wept a blue tinged, sticky fluid. And they were both constant sources of pain as the young dragonette forced himself to his feet.

    "Hands," Nyx ordered, gruffly.

    Wordlessly, Aytin extended his arms. With a few deft motions, the brigand removed his bindings. Then she shoved a handful of jerky and some nuts into his hands.

    The dried venison might as well have been leather. Probably from the flank of the skinny deer that they had killed a few days before. The quartet of dragonnets who had remained to guard their prisoner hadn''t bothered to share any of the better cuts.

    He tried a nut. It wasn''t much better. There was a bitter edge to it. Definitely too early in the season. But with the stingy rations that his captors forced on him he ate every bite, and wished for more.

    Nyx had left the water buckets near the door. Empty, of course. If he wanted a drink, he would have to fill them himself. If he didn''t want a drink, that was too bad. His captors had made it clear it was his job to fill them, no matter what he wanted.

    The shell of the keep didn''t have a functional well. Either there had never had one or, more likely, it was buried under a pile of rubble. A cistern survived, but it was a leaky ruin with only a thin skim of brackish water.

    Aytin started walking.

    As a rule, keeps rarely had their main entrance at ground level. It was so much more convenient to build a platform midway up. Takeoffs were so much easier when there was a little altitude to work with.

    This keep''s landing platform had long since rotted away. In fact, it was almost certainly the source of the massive hole in the wall. Most of the dragonettes preferred to come and go through that hole, even if it was awkward to get a running start inside of the ruins.

    Aytin had to use the narrow postern gate. It was just one more reminder of his mutilation.

    He didn''t bother looking back as he left the keep. He knew Nyx would be watching from the ramparts. Probably with at least one more of her four fellows. They liked to operate in pairs, with two watching him and the others out foraging or looking for Faelon''s corpse.

    So far they hadn''t found the dragon''s body or the bounty of trade goods he had carried. The storm had made marking the exact crash sight impossible, so they had quite the area to search. But they were hopeful that they would find it soon.

    Aytin idly considered what he would do if they followed through on some of the plans he had overheard. Faelon was massive, and he had carried a staggering amount of supplies. Who was to say what had made it down intact and what had been ruined?

    Ratting them out to Xantha when she returned might be satisfying, but costing her any part of the trader''s cargo was equally appealing.

    The hilltop was fairly flat, with the remnants of a few outbuildings scattered around the keep. As Aytin approached the edge, it dropped off fast. More of a mesa than a hill, making it the ideal sort of location for dragonettes to build on.

    To a person without working wings, it seemed much less appealing.

    Aytin followed a narrow gully downslope. A loose rock slipped under his foot. He nearly stumbled and instinctively flared his wings for balance. That saved him from a tumble, but he let out a hiss of pain as the sudden motion pulled at the holes in his wings.

    Cursing, he pushed on.

    At least the sun had risen enough to peak above the crest of the hill. Aytin carefully extended his wings, just a little. It hurt, but the warmth felt good on his back. It helped to drive away the last of the night''s damp chill.

    The gashes pulsed with their own heat, in time to his heartbeat. It was the heat of a wound that was on the edge of festering. Angry blue swelling, edging towards black told the same story.

    So far it was contained. The rest of the wing membrane was still its normal sky blue. But if that ever changed no healer, regardless of their skill, would be able to save the wings.

    Aytin tried not to think about that as he trudged along.

    The gully joined with another. A gentle gurgling along with a trickle of water coming from the other path revealed the spring was close. No more than a dozen strides away, in fact. A steady stream poured out from a crack had cut its way through the side of the rocky slope.

    There was a place where the water spilled off the top of a small stone in a miniature waterfall. Aytin splashed through the pool below and stuck his head beneath it to suck down gulp after gulp of the cool, clear flow.

    It had a sharp, metallic taste to it, almost like licking a steel blade. And there was a hint of a musty smell to it. But it was wet and the ragged dragonette hadn''t had anything to drink since the night before.

    He thought about filling the buckets from the now cloudy pool. But he decided against it. Just as he had every other time before.

    ''They''d dump it over my head and make me go back to get more. Probably give me a few new bruises, too.''

    Filling the pair of buckets directly from the flow didn''t take long. Aytin made sure to secure their rough lids for the trek back. He had forgotten once and lost most of that load before he made it halfway.

    Going up the treacherous slope with two full buckets was hard work. He was panting when he reached the peak, and sucked down another gulp before leaving his burden just inside of the keep''s walls.

    Zan met him on his way out.

    "Show me your wings," he demanded. Although it wasn''t quite an order. More like a strong request.

    When Aytin gingerly extended both wings, the other dragonette bent to examine the angry gashes with a disapproving eye. As he reached out to gently touch one of the wounds, Aytin recoiled in pain.

    "Hold still." This time it was an order, and one backed by mithril.

    Aytin did his best to comply, gritting his teeth and only shuddering as he was poked and prodded.

    Soon enough, Zan straightened. "Wait here." He disappeared into the keep, and returned with a few jars along with a mortar and pestle.

    One container held a dark and viscous liquid. A few drops of that were first in the mortar. They were followed by some dried green berries, brown leaves, and what looked like plain old yellowed grass. Finally, a scoop of some chalky white powder and a splash of water completed the concoction.

    Zan grunted slightly as he worked to pulp the individual components into a smooth paste. Then he gathered a generous glob up with one hand and motioned for Aytin to extend a wing.

    His touch still hurt, but this time it left behind a cool numbness. Wherever it went, the hot throbbing receded. Aytin relaxed muscles he never knew were tensed.

    "Where did you learn this?"

    The question just sort of slipped out. Aytin had avoided any interaction with his captors beyond taking orders. But unlike the rest, Zan had seemed to treat his role as that of a jailer, not a torturer.

    "I used to work in an apothecary in the capital."

    The reply was matter of fact, not the stinging rebuke Aytin had expected. It gave him the courage to ask, "How did you end up out here?"

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    This time Zan didn''t answer right away. In fact, he gave his patient a piercing look. But eventually he did decide to respond.

    "Do you know how hard it is to make a profit as an apothecary in the city? When there are a hundred others like you, who have been around longer than you have, and have relationships with all the traders to get first crack at the best ingredients?"

    Zan never paused his treatment as he spoke. His hand continued to move, leaving numb relief in their wake. But he did look the younger dragonette in the eyes as he asked, "Do you know how much some people will pay you to ignore certain laws?"

    "I don''t understand."

    The former apothecary sighed. "Do you know what the difference between the paleweed I used here and a tasteless poison that would stop your heart in a few moments is?"

    With all of his questions, Zan sounded like some of the teachers from his childhood. But Aytin wasn''t even sure what paleweed was, so he shook his head.

    "A little oil, a little heat, and a little patience. And another thing," he continued as he moved on to the other wing. "Nobles hate each other. No." For the first time, he paused his ministrations. "No, hate is not strong enough. They absolutely fucking dispise each other. But they can''t show it, and they certainly can''t order a wing of their household guard to go off and assassinate one another. So they turn to people like me.

    "Only one stupid bitch got sloppy and when the guard caught her they managed to figure out I was the one who had sold her an extra strong sleeping draught."

    "Oh."

    "Yeah." He gave the western horizon a dark look, as if he could see the capital from here.

    "Only three things saved me." Zan had gone back to work, but ticked each one off on his free hand. "First, that bitch was so incompetent that she managed to get caught before pulling off the murder. Second, for all her failings, she at least kept her mouth shut. And third, it really was a sleeping draught. Just as long as you only used a spoonful at a time.

    "So when they couldn''t prove I had known what she would do with the stuff, they at least threw me into the mines instead of the ocean."

    Aytin didn''t know what to think about that. He just stood in silence until Zan finished smearing the goop over his wounds.

    "I''ll probably need to do this again at some point," the apothecary-turned-brigand commented as he gathered his supplies together. "Let me know when it starts to throb. This sort of burn tends to get infected, and Xantha made me swear to keep you in one piece. At least, as long as you behave."

    He said the last bit as he made his way into the keep to put away his gear. Iit was a not so subtle reminder that even if Zan wasn''t as nasty as the others, he wasn''t a friend, either.

    That thought was reinforced when Zan emerged from the keep with an ax over one shoulder and a crosscut saw held loosely in his other hand. "Time for cutting some firewood. You had better get walking." He pointed downslope, towards where a small copse of trees grew not far from the foot of the hill.

    It was a long way down, but for once being a prisoner worked to Aytin''s advantage. There was no way his captors would trust him unsupervised with anything resembling a weapon. So he made the trek unburdened.

    Zan touched down nearby as Aytin arrived at the trees. He''d been circling above, keeping an eye on the crippled dragonette. Not out of any sense of protectiveness, of course.

    Wordlessly, he set the saw against a trunk and then took off again. He alighted on top of a boulder that had come loose from the nearby hill uncounted years before. It was a perch that someone without wings would be hard pressed to climb.

    Aytin retrieved the saw along with the water skin next to it, and he got to work.

    He went to the tree he had been working on for the past few days. Judging by the char, lighting struck it a few years before, and sometime since then a windstorm had blown it over.

    The handsaw bit easily into the dry wood. If he worked hard, Aytin could have the day''s firewood cut before the sun traveled much past its peak.

    He wasn''t working hard.

    ''What''s the point? They don''t care how long it takes to finish as long as they don''t have to do their own scut work.''

    A pile of rounds began to build. When Aytin had four logs ready for splitting, Zan flew down. Setting up a dozen paces behind his charge, the former apothecary began to use his ax to reduce the first of the logs into more manageable sized chunks.

    A rustle of wings announced a new arrival.

    "I''m just so glad to see the two of you working so hard." Nyx''s voice positively dripped with sarcasm.

    Aytin had only added a single additional log to the pile since the splitting had begun. From the slow thunk of the ax, it was obvious that Zan hadn''t been particularly keen on his own work.

    "Go fuck off, Nyx. There isn''t shit to work on and you know it."

    "What do you call fixing up our home?" she snapped. "I''m the reason there''s a roof over the lookout post."

    "A roof protecting against what? Besides that big storm and the drizzle the next morning, it''s rained maybe twice in the last two months!"

    "Rainy season is coming. You''ll be glad of that roof when it hits."

    "By then we''ll be swimming in gold and out of this dump. Why should we care about fixing up a place we''re gonna leave?"

    "Because there is no guarantee that we''ll see a single bent copper from that crippled whelp. And what then?"

    "Xana will get us our money." Zan said it like it was a pronouncement delivered to him directly by a god.

    Aytin could almost hear the exasperated ear flick Nyx gave in response. "She''s full of herself from that trick with that artifact, whatever the watery hells it is."

    "The barometer."

    "Whatever. Just because she knows which way''s north and figured out how to convince some trader she can predict the weather doesn''t mean she''s fucking omniscient. I mean, look at him!" She snaked her head towards their prisoner. "He''s a scrawny fourth-born son. We''ll be lucky to get ten gold off of him."

    Aytin stiffened slightly at the comment. But he didn''t have any honor left to defend. And deep down, he figured that she was right.

    "She''ll get us our money," Zan repeated. "Maybe not as much as she hoped, but nobles are loaded. Especially ones that own a copper mine."

    "Just give me the damn ax." Nyx snatched the tool from her comrade''s outstretched hand and started at the next log with a will.

    Meanwhile Zan took his time gathering an armful of split firewood and took off towards the keep. Aytin was quietly grateful they didn''t make him carry it, but he doubted that he could move enough in a day to keep the fires lit.

    "Get back to work!"

    The young dragonette jumped at the snarl. He had paused to watch the argument. The bickering between his captors was the closest thing to entertainment he had. But unlike Zan, Nyx wouldn''t hesitate to beat him if she thought he wasn''t pulling his weight. He forced himself to resume his cutting.

    When Zan returned, he wordlessly swapped positions with Nyx while she took a much larger armful of firewood than the male had.

    "Who the fuck does she think she''s showing off for," Zan muttered to himself. But he did chop a little faster than he had before.

    The cycle repeated twice more. Aytin was starting to worry that he wouldn''t be able to keep up with Nyx''s pace. If she returned and found no logs ready to split, well...

    Thankfully, she only gave him and his half cut length a disgusted look. "You can pack it in. We''re done." To Zan she said, "Juniper and Opal are flying this way, so you won''t have to strain your precious wings with more trips."

    "Fuck off, Nyx. I pull my weight. I just don''t feel like wasting my time on stupid shit."

    The other two dragonettes in their little group chose that moment to land, forestalling the coming argument. Personally, Aytin was disappointed. Nyx hated the male almost as much as she hated her young captive. The difference was that Zan''s skills and position meant she couldn''t take it out on him physically.

    She had actually threatened to do just that during a shouting match on their first evening alone. The trained apothecary had gone quiet before asking if she knew what the antidote for green dragon poison was. That had shut her right up.

    But while the threat of physical violence was off the table, Aytin still took a measure of satisfaction at the sight of the two going at it.

    "Did you find anything?" Nyx asked the pair of newcomers.

    "A brace of rabbits," Opal replied, holding up the pair of dead animals.

    "And whoever lived here before must have planted some apple trees because I found a few on the western edge of the clearing," Juniper chimed in.

    "They''re still green, though. And they''re tiny."

    "They''ll be fine in a week. Two, tops."

    "It has to have been a hundred years since anyone lived here. Those trees have gone wild."

    "So what if they''re small. Apples are apples!"

    The pair were always like that. But despite the constant bickering, they were inseparable. And also nearly indistinguishable, save for Juniper having her earrings set with jade and Opal wearing a pair with iridescent white stones.

    Nyx cut off the debate before it could get any further. "What about finding where that damned dragon crashed? You two said you were going to search for it." There was an expectant note in her voice.

    "We couldn''t find a thing.¡±

    "Maybe he landed in a lake."

    "Yeah, but Kalthor says he saw him fall in the forest."

    "I didn''t see him fall."

    "Are you going to tell a dragon that he''s a liar?"

    Aytin uncapped the waterskin to take a drink as he watched the show. As he did, he idly scanned the forest in the distance.

    And as his eyes passed over a particularly dense clump of trees, he froze.

    He was still staring at a point on the treeline when Zan''s voice registered.

    "Are you deaf or something? Hand it over."

    Aytin looked dumbly at the other dragonette''s outstretched hand, then realized he was still holding the loaned waterskin. Wordlessly, he passed it over.

    Feeling the weight, Zan scowled. Then he noticed the puddle of water at the other dragonette''s feet. "Fucking inconsiderate shit," he snarled as he stopmed off.

    Aytin didn''t care. It might have been only for a few moments, but he knew what he saw. And it meant whatever punishment Zan or any of his other tormentors could think up meant about as much as a wingbeat in a storm.

    Something was watching them. And even if it was too far to make out details among the trees, Aytin didn''t need any to know what was out there. He could see its color clearly enough.

    Whatever was out there, it was the black of corruption.

 Chapter 12: Escaping the Beast

    ''Darklings. They''re here. Oh, gods, they''re here.''

    The words had been running through Aytin''s head the entire trek back to the keep. Now he sat in a corner while his four guards chatted, oblivious to their doom.

    ''We''re dead. They''re dead!'' The thought threatened to bring on a peal of hysterical laughter that he only barely managed to clamp down on. A choking gasp still slipped out, but his captors were distracted by some argument between Opal and Juniper.

    Of course, they might not be dead. It was probably worse than that. The darklings would come in the middle of the night, swooping out of the darkness to overwhelm them, and take them back to be corrupted by their masters.

    And then there were those rumors of some new way they had to corrupt their victims. Something that could turn a dragonette into a darkling without effort or powerful personal magic. If they had a way to do that, every one of them was utterly doomed.

    The thought of ending it all had crossed Aytin''s mind more than once over his days of captivity. There had been plenty of opportunities. A couple of the cliffs were more than tall enough. One final brief flight, and it would all be over. With luck, the darklings wouldn''t even find his remains.

    But he was too much a coward for that. Or maybe it was that tiny hope that if he lived, he might be able to repay Xantha for all that she had done to him.

    He hoped it was the latter but feared it was the former.

    Only now, the idea of being taken from a cold induced stupor, of being corrupted and turned into a dark puppet, without so much as being able to fight back? It was so much worse than captivity. Even his mutilation paled when compared to that fate.

    Laughter echoed throughout the shell of the keep. Zan had told some joke and the twins apparently thought it was hilarious. Even Nyx fought to keep a smile off her face.

    It was insane. Absolutely insane. When the sun set, that would be the end of it all. And they were laughing like a bunch of hatchlings with honey cakes.

    Then again, maybe he was insane.

    Aytin felt like he was balancing on a knife''s edge. He wanted to huddle in the corner. He wanted to scream at the oblivious assholes laughing away. He wanted to throw himself at his tormentors. He wanted to run for the cliff and fly again.

    And there was something buzzing at the back of his mind. It was important, he knew. Like a piece of a puzzle. If he could just reach it...

    Something wet and slimy slapped into his chest. Aytin looked up just in time for another wad of offal to smack into his snout.

    More laughter erupted from the quartet of guards. Juniper and Opal were grinning like a pair of idiots. Their hands were bloody from the rabbits they had just finished gutting.

    "Get off your useless tail and go bury that shit," Nyx called.

    Wordlessly, the young dragonette gathered the bloody guts and stood. He ignored the slimy smears they left on his frayed and stained clothes, just walking towards the exit in almost a daze.

    One of the twins - Opal from her earrings - stood as he passed. "Since your hands are full..." she said, as she wrapped one last length of gut around his neck. "Prefect!"

    There was more laughter, but it trailed off at the lack of any reaction.

    "I think you broke him, sis," Juniper commented as Aytin walked past, staring straight ahead.

    There were shrugs in response, but conversation picked up as he walked out. They weren''t concerned. Their prisoner had become more and more passive over the days. This hadn''t been all that unexpected.

    Ten steps out of the keep, Aytin bolted.

    His first instinct was to run for the cliff. But even after everything, he couldn''t.

    He just couldn''t.

    So he shifted his path slightly. There was a narrow ridge that ran from the hilltop to the clearing below. It was a straight path down the hill, but Aytin had never taken it. Every step was treacherous, with crumbling rocks and clumps of soil that collapsed at the slightest touch. Its sides were nearly sheer and a tumble would break bones at best.

    Aytin hit the ridgeline at a dead sprint.

    When the first chunk of rock gave way under his talons, it was like his body was expecting it. He shifted ever so slightly and never even stumbled.

    The root of a hardy little bush seemed to reach up to grab the dragonette''s shin. It should have sent him falling on his face. Instead, he just made a graceful little hop and kept going.

    Ground fell away beneath his feet. Brittle rock fragmented. A rain of dust and gravel tumbled down the hillside behind him.

    But Aytin kept his balance. He always kept his balance. On the knife''s edge, he never faltered.

    The slope gradually flattened into the strip of grassland separating the hill from the surrounding forest. Keeping up the breakneck pace was impossible. Aytin slowed, panting for breath.

    "Have... keep going..." he gasped.

    To where, he wasn''t sure. This time, there was no plan. He didn''t even have time to think about how he was still alive after a descent that ought to have left him a bloody blue smear on the rocks below.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Halfway to the forest, a shadow zipped overhead. Aytin threw himself to the ground, and something passed through the space where his head had been. It hit the ground with a splat, sending splatters of blood and worse across the dragonette''s face.

    "You dropped something!" a voice called from above.

    Another shadow passed and a handful of gravel stung his back. One piece hit the wound on his left wing and he hissed in pain before pushing himself to his feet.

    Four dragonettes circled above him.

    One of the twins dropped for a closer pass. "You''re pretty fast for a cripple!" she shouted as she swooped by, just out of reach.

    "Turn around, kid," Zan called from higher up. He didn''t sound particularly happy, but that was a whole lot nicer than Nyx looked.

    The leader of the group stared down with a cold hate that could have frozen a red dragon''s flames. It promised that no matter what happened, there would be retribution.

    "Can''t go back."

    The words slipped from Aytin''s lips without conscious thought. But he latched onto them, repeating them like a mantra.

    Without any other option, the young dragonette started running again. He hadn''t been paying attention to where he was going before. ''Maybe that was for the best,'' he thought as he shifted his direction slightly, turning towards a particular clump of trees.

    "You''re making a mistake," Zan shouted.

    Aytin didn''t listen.

    On the wing, the forest was little more than a minute away. By foot it was at least several times that. Short legs, poor diet, and exhaustion conspired to hamper Aytin''s pace.

    All the while, his tormentors circled like a pack of vultures.

    The twins were enjoying the spectacle. Several times they doubled back to snag clumps of dirt or tree branches to drop on him. All the while they mocked him.

    Zan was quiet, flying above the others. He seemed resigned to the spectacle more than anything else.

    And Nyx?

    Nyx was just as silent as Zan. But her silence was something malevolent. She was letting the twins do as they pleased. Letting them tire out her prey. To break him. And when they were done? It would be her turn.

    Hard packed ground gave way to loam under Aytin''s feet. The shade of the looming trees was a relief. He could tell he was close to passing out from the heat of his burning muscles.

    "You might as well pick some berries while you''re down there," Juniper called as she alighted on a pine tree''s wide branch. Her talons dug deep into the rough bark.

    "Or nuts!" Her sister''s yell was accompanied by a pine cone. It smacked painfully into Aytin''s neck as he panted for breath.

    In some part of his mind he had held out hope that the forest would be too dense for them to follow him, but no such luck. The trees were primarily widely spaced pines with a few clumps of other varieties mixed in. There was plenty of room for any competent flier to navigate. Nor would they have any trouble following him from above the widely spaced canopy.

    As he straightened, a sledgehammer struck him on his shoulder. It sent him spinning, but rather than sprawling to the ground Aytin continued with the motion and turned the stumble into something approaching a graceful pirouette.

    Nyx flared her wings, landing near the base of the tree where Juniper perched. She shook one hand as she turned to face her escaped prisoner, and there was murder in her eyes.

    "Nothing permanent."

    She whirled to face Zan. The former apothecary was just coming to a trotting stop on the soft ground. He held a woodcutting ax casually against his shoulder, just in case.

    "I''ll leave the fucking shit alive!" she snarled. "Then maybe you can do your job and put the pieces back together!"

    "And I want to get paid." Zan glanced at Juniper in her tree and then at Opal who had landed just behind him. The pair nodded at that. They might enjoy the perks of their lifestyle, but they were mercenaries at heart and everyone there knew it.

    Nyx bared her teeth at her ostensible subordinate, but even in her rage she could see reason. She shut her mouth with an audible clack and spun to face Aytin. "I won''t break any bones. Good enough?" she snarled through clenched teeth. Scorn dripped from every word.

    "Leave his eyes and tongue."

    "Fine. But I''m taking an ear. And that messed up fucking horn of his."

    Zan looked like he was going to argue at that, but thought better of it. "That works."

    "Like I needed your gods damned permission." She drew a dagger from her belt. "I''m gonna enjoy this."

    Before the enraged dragonette could take more than a few steps, a soft rustling drew their attention. Something was moving on the other side of a dense patch of scrub oak.

    "Go check it out, Juniper," Nyx commanded. "If it''s a deer, get us some dinner. I have a feeling some venison steaks will hit the spot after this."

    "Ooh, fuck yeah! I''ve got this!" The dragonette in question went off like a shot, motivated by the promise of something tastier than rabbit stew for dinner.

    "Now, where were-"

    Nyx was cut off by a bone chilling scream. A scream that ended in abrupt and total silence.

    No one moved. Not even to breathe. Everyone just stared at the bush where Juniper had disappeared, eyes wide and ears bolt upright.

    The tableau was broken by something flying over the brush to land at the brigand leader''s feet.

    It was Juniper. Pieces of her.

    Something had torn her in half, leaving her legs and tail to fall in one pile and the remains of her torso, head, and upper limbs in another. Her neck was twisted at an odd angle and her face was a frozen mask of surprise and terror.

    Opal let out a keening cry at the sight of her sister''s mangled corpse. Nyx dropped her knife like it was on fire, and she scrambled for the sword at her hip. Zan had his ax held in one hand while his other scrambled at his belt for the pouch of vials he kept there.

    And Aytin laughed.

    "You''re going to die!" he cried between hysterical half sobs. "I''m going to die! But so are you! You''re all gonna die!"

    They ignored him, backing away from the now wildly swaying trees. Little explosions cracked through the forest as saplings shattered, crushed by some immense force.

    Zan turned to flee, legs pushing deep into the needle strewn loam to try and get enough speed to take wing. Nyx froze, torn between cursing him and joining in.

    She never had a chance to decide.

    A massive form burst through the trees. It faced the trio of remaining brigands, and Aytin''s view was blocked by its massive blackened wing.

    In his worst fears, he had never expected to see a corrupted dragon. He hadn''t even known it was possible for a dragon to be corrupted. Not for sure.

    Aytin closed his eyes and waited for the end.

    There was a surge of heat like standing in front of Suuie''s forge. He could see it through his eyelids and the smell of charred meat invaded his nostrils.

    A quick death. It was the most he could have hoped for.

    But there was no pain.

    Cracking his eyes open, Aytin saw that where there had once been three dragonettes, nothing was left but chunks of charcoal and smoldering pine needles.

    Turning slightly, he found himself face to face with the dragon. And under the flaking mud covering him, an unmistakably red dragon. A red dragon he knew.

    "F-Faelon?"

 Interlude 2: Consequences

    "It''s a deal."

    The merchant smiled at the words, although Xantha caught a hint of relief in her expression.

    ''She''ll have to learn to control that. Still, her inexperience is my gain.''

    Suppliers in the capital came and went. The ones that lasted could charge a premium. Long standing reputations were worth the extra gold to anyone too lazy to hunt down alternatives.

    Xantha Carnot hadn''t earned her name by being lazy.

    She counted out a handful of shiny coins and passed them over. Again, there was a slight widening in the merchant''s eyes, and the tiniest tremble in her hands. It was no doubt more money than would pass through this tiny shop in a week.

    Normally, buying something as valuable as frost powder from a no-name supplier would raise questions. Xantha knew better.

    One of her old contacts had mentioned the former dragon crewmember turned merchant. She certainly had the connections to get quality products, and some discrete questions were enough to confirm that the shop was legitimate.

    It was just a swallow among dragons, with larger and more established interests dominating the market. That made the owner more willing to bargain.

    No doubt the Carnots'' usual supplier would be unhappy at the lost sale. ''Fuck ''em. They''ve gotten fat and lazy. Maybe they''ll not try to gouge us next time.''

    Assembling the purchase was just a matter of minutes. Twenty flasks of frost powder were neatly placed into a straw-filled crate. The proprietor even took the care to lay a line of pitch along the seam before nailing the top closed. So what if it had the emblem of a local brewery burned into the wood? It was still perfectly serviceable.

    "Come back again, anytime! And, uh, if anyone you know is looking for dragon products..."

    "I''ll be sure to give them your name," Xantha said with a smile, as she accepted her purchase.

    In truth, she couldn''t even remember what that name was. Not that it mattered. It wouldn''t be hard to find a new supplier if she ever needed one.

    "How did it go?" Lark asked as her boss emerged from the store.

    "Better than expected." Xantha held up the crate. "Drinks are on the Carnots tonight!"

    A muted cheer went up from the trio of assembled huntresses, and their leader allowed herself a small smile. ''They can''t even be mad because I''m still saving them money.''

    She dropped the crate in the back of the handcart with the rest of their purchases and pulled out a scrap of paper. Steel ingots. Ink. Salt. Fertilized goose eggs. Bolts of fabric. Bags of seed. A long list of the supplies a keep needed to function. Everything was either in the cart or back at their little rented plot in the staging yard.

    With a show of folding the note and tucking it into a pocket, Xantha declared, "And that is it."

    This time the reaction was decidedly less enthusiastic.

    "Are you sure that there''s nothing else?" Cleo practically begged, her hand brushing against the brand new gold hoops that graced her ears. "Something that will take another couple of days?"

    Lark perked up at that. "Oh, did you find out about another party?"

    "Maybe I did, maybe I didn''t. Depends if you''ll pay me back for last night''s drinks."

    There was a pause after that, where Lark seemed to be waiting for the other dragonette to crack a smile, but it never came. Eventually, she threw up her hands.

    "Come on! I bought your drinks night before last!"

    "One drink. One."

    "It was more than that!"

    "It wasn''t," the so far silent third member of their party chimed in. "And you still owe me four silver from our card game."

    "I paid that back, Vallie!"

    "You didn''t," Valleceti replied, coldly. "Remember, I know where you sleep."

    "That''s enough, Vallie," Xantha said, finally stepping in when things looked like they might get ugly. "Lark, pay the woman."

    "But-" Her response died when her boss narrowed her eyes dangerously. A few years in the royal guard had taught her how to deal with unruly subordinates.

    "Yeah, sure," the cowed huntress muttered before counting out the coins. Her partner accepted them without a word.

    "And you''re paying for Cleo''s first drink."

    "Hey, she owes me more than-"

    "For Cleo''s first drink," Xantha repeated before the dragonette in question could start protesting. "But," she continued, "I don''t think we''ll be leaving for a few more days, at least. Unless the trading guild has found someone going in that direction yet?"

    Shaking heads followed the question. Not that any of them knew more than she did, but asking made them feel more important. Smarter. Part of the group. Easier to manage.

    ''As for Cleo, maybe this will teach her not to loan Lark drinking money.''

    The staging yard would have only been a short flight away if it wasn''t for the cart. As it was, they had to navigate their way through narrow, twisty streets.

    This particular part of the capital was cramped with warehouses and low-rent workshops. Really, not the best part of the city, but none of the local toughs wanted to get involved with four huntresses.

    Several times, one of the group had to take to the skies to get their bearings. After the second dead end, Xantha just ordered Lark into the air. She braved the stiffening winds to guide them through the maze of streets until they emerged into the outskirts of the city.

    There was a guard at the entrance to the staging yard. He was eyeing the approaching cloud bank warily, and for good reason. His only shelter wasn''t much more than an awning, and the light summer uniform he wore wouldn''t be much proof against a storm.

    Nonetheless, he lowered his spear to block their path. "Pass?"

    Xantha handed over the token without a word. Surprisingly, he actually appeared to read it, a rare enough skill among the working class.

    It was genuine enough, as the guard quickly determined. Returning the slip of carved wood with a polite nod, he raised his spear and let them proceed.

    The yard itself wasn''t much. Just a flat square of bare dirt surrounded by walls. Cobbled paths led between numbered plots, about half of which were piled with various goods. In the center, a short guard tower watched over the whole affair.

    There were sections of covered warehouses available for travelers. In Xantha''s opinion, they weren''t worth the coin that they charged. Everything they were buying would be exposed to the elements during the journey home, so it wasn''t like sitting outside for a few days would matter.

    Their rented plot held a staked tarp. A tall mound in the middle testified to the week''s successful bargaining.

    "Cleo, Lark, get the tarp up. The sooner we get this unloaded, the sooner we can get out of the weather." Fat, cold drops were already beginning to spatter the ground as Xantha spoke.

    Lark obeyed, but Cleo balked. "Why bother? A little water isn''t gonna hurt anything."

    Xantha paused, considering the suggestion.

    The only thing in the day''s purchases that wasn''t waterproof was the frost powder. Getting that wet would activate it, ruining the whole batch. But the crate seemed well made, if a little worn. Worst case, it leaked and the flasks inside would still keep the powder dry.

    "Okay," she said, making her decision. "Change of plans. Make sure those stakes are secure, and then we''re headed for The Third Wing."

    That got a cheer from Cleo and smiles from the other two. Within a minute, they were airborne and racing the storm towards shelter. They made it to the tavern just before the clouds really opened up, pushing inside as rain began to sheet down behind them.

    The Third Wing wasn''t anything fancy. Dim, with rough bench seating and straw-covered floors, it catered to the sort of people who frequented this part of the city. Trade hands just in from long journeys. Mercenaries looking for contracts. Various workers in the nearby warehouses and shipping yards.

    Still, the ale was cheap and the roof was reasonably watertight. That was all that really mattered.

    It was also crowded. Most of the benches were occupied by both regulars and dragonettes who had been a little faster escaping the rain.

    Surprisingly, from out of the crowd, someone called out to them. "Cleo! Hey, Cleo, over here!"

    The shout was accompanied by a waving hand from a corner of the tavern. The rest of the huntresses looked at each other, but Cleo practically dislocated her shoulder waving back as she rushed over.

    "Are those royal guard uniforms?" Lark asked, just loud enough to be heard over the clamor.

    "Looks like it," Xantha replied, casting a critical eye over the small group scooting together to make room. "They seem a little off, though."

    Their uniforms lacked the polish of most units. They were rumpled, like they had spent the day flying in them. And then there was the little fact that they were wearing them at all.

    Xantha would have stuck any one of her soldiers on mid-watch for a week if she found them drinking in uniform, much less in an establishment like this one. Either their officer was criminally lax, or there was something else going on.

    ''Then again, it''s not my problem anymore.'' With a shrug, she motioned for the other two members of her little party to follow her over.

    The guards were already packed wing to wing, but somehow they made room for the newcomers to squeeze in.

    Cleo was already pressed up against what appeared to be their leader. Probably a little closer than the tightly packed crowd really required.

    "Hey, so this is Lynis!" She motioned towards her friend as the other huntresses sat down. "We met the other night at a party. He''s part of a wing of lancers here in the capital!"

    "Great to meet you ladies!" he said, with a confident smile. "You all look thirsty. I hope you''ll let me buy you some drinks."

    Xantha frowned slightly as she looked him up and down. Fit, of course. Older than the rest of the lancers, although not yet entering middle age. Somewhere around her own age, in fact. And tall, for a male. Maybe even taller than Lark. A few scars. Overall, good looking enough. But something about the name bugged her.

    It was only when he turned his head to wave at the overworked bartender that she noticed the kink at the end of his left horn and it all clicked.

    "You''re the Bloodhorn."

    There were snickers from the rest of the guards, but Lynis''s ears didn''t even twitch. He just gave a "what can you do?" smile and a shrug.

    "That would be me."

    Cleo''s eyes went wide and her ears stood straight up. "You never told me!"

    "I, uh, kind of thought you already knew," he said, a little bit sheepishly.

    "Of course I didn''t know!"

    There were more laughs, and Lynis even looked just a touch crestfallen. He recovered quickly, though. "Cleo mentioned she was here with her fellow huntresses. I take it you''re her leader?"

    "Xantha Carnot," she introduced herself. The Carnot part might only be a technicality at this point, but she would be damned if she''d let anyone take away the name she had earned. Besides, the name of one of the kingdom''s more powerful noble families opened doors, and the slight widening of the other dragonette''s eyes showed it clearly meant something to him.

    "You obviously know Cleo," she continued and her huntress gave the male''s arm a slight squeeze at the acknowledgement. "And these are Lark and Valleceti."

    The lancers greeted them all warmly, and then went around introducing themselves. Xantha didn''t bother remembering their names. Unlike their leader, they weren''t important.

    Incredibly, a server came by right then, and deposited four mugs of ale on the table. There was clearly some preferential treatment going on, but none of them were going to complain.

    "What are you doing out here," Xantha asked once they were all settled. "This doesn''t really strike me as the sort of establishment you see royal guard at."

    "Bolt''s older brother''s the bartender," Lynis replied, jerking his head to one of the lancers. "He always takes good care of us after an exercise."

    "If he doesn''t, mom will pick him up by the tail, and throw him into a lake," the lancer in question explained, quite a bit louder than he needed to.

    "Bro," the bartender called out, "you better not push it, or I''ll make sure your next drink is extra special."

    There were jeers from the crowd, and Bolt shot a rude gesture his brother''s way.

    "So," Lynis said as things quieted down. "Cleo here says you''re all from one of the keeps?"

    Xantha nodded, quickly. "I''m a gilded huntress leading a group out in one of the Carnots'' holdings. You probably wouldn''t have heard of it, but it''s not too far into the middle ring."

    "Pretty quiet, then? Better protected than the frontier for sure. And not as crowded as the inner ring."

    The truth was that it was far from quiet. At least, for the huntresses. Sure, they didn''t have problems with brigands or darklings or bugs. That would have been one thing. Better, in a way.

    No, instead they had quotas. Crushing quotas.

    Keeps - especially the more established ones - existed to supply the inner cities with food and materials. That meant there was a constant demand for more venison. More boar. More furs. More wild herbs. Rare timber for their fancy furniture. Goose feathers for their soft pillows. Berries to dye their carpets and flavor their wines.

    Worst of all, her superiors were always trying to sabotage her. It only made sense, after all. Lady Jeleen was part of a cadet branch of the Carnots, and the family had never been happy with her marriage to Tilvi.

    It was obvious that Jeleen had ordered Draka to sabotage her.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    The gilded huntress had been out to get her since the first day. It started with thinly veiled "suggestions" to make her look incompetent in front of her subordinates. Then she started assigning the other teams the closer hunting grounds, and half the time the bitch flew along to watch over her wingtips like she was some incompetent greenhorn instead of a blooded veteran of the royal guard.

    It didn''t help that half of the huntresses Xantha got were useless. They didn''t listen and constantly went over her head. Valleceti, at least, she had managed to recruit from her old guard unit. And both Lark and Cleo were useful enough, as long as you kept an eye on them.

    But she didn''t mention any of this. Xantha just gave a wide smile and a half shrug. "We have our own excitement, from time to time. Nothing we can''t handle, but it''s not all hunting deer and picking berries. Why? Are you interested in seeing it for yourself?"

    She added the last with the tiniest suggestive hint in her tone. ''He''s been a lancer for years now. Maybe he''s interested in retirement. Captain of the guard at a nice, secure keep would be perfect for him. And bringing him in would get Jeleen off my tail.''

    His response was a laugh and shake of the head. "Nah, I grew up in the capital. I see enough of the keeps when we get sent out on assignments."

    "Oh, it''s not that bad," Xantha pressed.

    "At least we''re big enough to have dragons coming through every few weeks," Cleo added. "That always livens things up."

    Lynis just raised an eyeridge and motioned outside, to the flat strip of land where a stream of dragons would be landing in better weather.

    Sudden laughter distracted them. Lark had apparently just finished telling a dirty joke and the pair of lancers she was chatting with were snorting on their drinks.

    A quick glance showed Valleceti paying more attention to her mug than the people around her. The rest of the unit seemed to have gone back to whatever game of dice they had been playing before the huntresses'' arrival.

    Returning her attention to the Bloodhorn, Xantha said, "I actually grew up around here, too. What part of the city are you from?"

    "Oh, a little tenement near the brickworks."

    "Really?" She tried to keep the incredulity off of her face, but the wry flick of his ears told her she hadn''t managed it.

    "Yeah, it was a dump," he admitted. "But it was all my mom and I could afford until I joined up."

    "I just... well, the royal guard isn''t just about raw skill. Recruits usually need some social standing." She had certainly needed references from several officers to join.

    Lynis just snorted, and several of his soldiers outright laughed. "Lancers are a bit different there. You have to be a bit desperate to join up to a unit that might send you out to die. So there''s a little bit of flexibility.

    "Doesn''t hurt that the pay''s good!" one of the listeners added.

    "That too. Once the money started coming, I did make sure to move my mom into a decent flat."

    Xantha had never served with lancers. The explanation made sense though, and she nodded. "Where is she now?"

    "Nowhere." His expression darkened. "She died over a decade ago."

    "Ohh, Lynis, I''m so sorry!" Cleo gushed.

    "It''s alright," he said with a tight smile. "Mom was tough... but life ground her away. At least she was comfortable in the end."

    "She must have been proud of you," Xantha said.

    "More like terrified, I think. Being a lancer isn''t exactly safe."

    "Every parent wants to see their hatchlings have a better life than they had. I''m sure she''d be happy to see how far you''ve come."

    He paused for a moment, then nodded slowly. "You sound like you have experience with that. You have kids?"

    "A daughter. Kesti." For the first time that afternoon, she really smiled. "Three years old, and drives her minders to tears."

    "Oh, tell him about the time she stole your saber!" Cleo exclaimed.

    "I''m sure he doesn''t-"

    But before she could finish, Lynis interrupted. "No, no, I want to hear this."

    For most of an hour, they swapped stories. Surprisingly, the Bloodhorn never mentioned any of the combat he had seen. He had plenty of stories about his time in the guard, but they were all about dodging officers or pulling pranks or bending the rules in training.

    It was clear that the lancers were very different from the unit of the royal guard that Xantha had been a part of. No less capable, but much lighter on the decorum.

    Throughout it all, she kept trying to plant the idea of moving to the keep. It was clear that it wasn''t sticking, though. Subtle hints that he and Cleo would make a good pair never took off, either. Xantha didn''t take long to realize that he was only interested in having a fun time.

    Eventually, the canvas sheets the tavern had in place of expensive glass windows began to brighten, and the background pounding of rain faded away. The crowd started to ease as dragonettes settled their tabs and headed out into the late-afternoon sun.

    As Xantha finished a story about a particularly tricky hunt, Lynis glanced through the swinging door and grimaced. "Alright everyone," he called out, and the lancers immediately quieted. "The captain''s lenient about this, but if we don''t show up eventually, she''ll nail our tails to her wall."

    There were groans all around, but no one lingered too long. Drinks were hastily drained and coins dropped on the table. Bolt scooped the latter up, and wandered over to the bar to settle up with his brother while the rest rose and started making their way to the door.

    Cleo grabbed Lynis''s arm before he could leave. "You know, there''s a party the night after next. Do you think...?"

    He shook his head, ruefully. "I''d love to, except we''re on duty. Buuut," he continued before her face could fall too far. "After we report in, I''ll be free until morning. I''m sure we could have our own fun."

    That perked Cleo up. "I''m always up for some fun! Same place as last time?"

    "I''ll be there a couple hours before sunset," Lynis promised. Then, seeing Bolt motioning towards him from the door, he gave Xantha and her huntresses a nod. "It was a pleasure meeting you all."

    "Likewise," Xantha said. "And thank you for the drinks."

    "Anytime." With a final wave, the Bloodhorn jogged off to rejoin his unit outside of the tavern.

    Xantha watched him go. Once he was out of earshot, she muttered, "He was... not what I expected."

    "I still can''t believe that Lynis is the Bloodhorn! Can you?" Cleo was ecstatic.

    "It is a little hard to believe," Xantha admitted. ''And hard to believe that you didn''t recognize him. A lancer named Lynis with a bent horn-tip? Really?''

    Lark scooted closer along the suddenly empty bench and scowled. "Some of us barely got a chance to say two words to him. You and the boss had him to yourself the whole afternoon."

    "It''s not my fault that we''re more interesting!"

    "What''s that supposed to mean?"

    "Alright, that''s enough." Xantha drained the last of her ale and wiped her mouth with a sleeve. "I''m sure everyone has things that they''d rather be doing than sitting in a dive bar, so let''s get the cargo unloaded and back to the rooms."

    Cleo''s eyes went wide and she practically jumped to her feet, no doubt planning how she''d prepare for her date. The others were a bit slower to rise, finishing their drinks and handing the empty mugs to an approaching server before making their way outside.

    The storm had cut the summer heat a bit, but that left things just a little more humid than was comfortable. The newly revealed sun wasn''t helping. By the time the four huntresses had returned to their storage area, it was practically steaming.

    "Come on, just for tonight!" Cleo begged as she pulled away the canvas tarp covering their supplies.

    Valleceti''s expression didn''t even flicker as she helped to roll it back. "No."

    "Why not?"

    "You have your own jewelry."

    "But you''re not using it tonight." When she only got silence in response, Cleo added, "Besides, you know that I''ll return it."

    "What''s that supposed to mean?" Lark demanded as she picked up a cask and set it in the pile.

    "Oh, nothing."

    "Bullshit! Why don''t you just come out with it instead of making snide comments?"

    Xantha sighed. It was sad that these three were the most competent huntresses that she had under her command. They might follow orders and know which end of a spear was the pointy one, but aside from Valleceti there wasn''t a disciplined scale on their hides.

    ''To the oceans with playing the peacekeeper. Maybe if they get it out of them now, they''ll settle down later.''

    She wasn''t holding out hope, but it was all that she could do. Instead of intervening, Xantha just picked up a crate from the cart and moved to set it with everything else.

    Out of all of the dragon-produced substances, frost powder was the easiest to handle. It wasn''t volatile like blitz gel or flammable like flash powder. Black dragon acid would eat its way out of almost anything, and no one wanted to be anywhere near green dragon venom. But frost powder was fairly innocuous.

    As long as it stayed dry.

    While it wasn''t nearly as dangerous as its cousins, anyone transporting frost powder took precautions. Often those included well padded glass vials packed inside of a waterproof cask or crate.

    To the shopkeeper''s credit, she had cushioned her products with plenty of straw. Her attention hadn''t extended to the packing job itself. Two of the powder-filled containers were rubbing up against one another, and the clay flasks weren''t quite as durable as proper glass vials.

    They had knocked against each other during the rough cart ride to the staging yard. In the end, one of them cracked, filling the straw with its snow white contents.

    Even then, a properly made crate might have prevented disaster. A few drops of water wouldn''t have caused any problems. That was all a good, pitch-sealed container would have let in, even in the worst rainstorm.

    No one cared if a bottle of beer got wet. The brewery that commissioned this particular crate certainly didn''t, and months of service to that enterprise hadn''t improved its integrity. The joints let water in like a sieve. As rain mixed with the frost powder inside, the result was a slurry colder than the heart of the fiercest blizzard.

    When Xantha picked up the crate full of frost powder, some of this dangerously cold mixture dribbled through the seams.

    "Oh, gods damn it!" she shrieked as a lance of pain shot through her arm. It felt like someone had plunged it into hot coals.

    She instinctively triggered her magic. Her magical tolerance to flame should have kept her safe from anything short of a blacksmith''s forge. Except the burning persisted.

    Xantha tossed the crate, hurling the source of the pain away from her. It tumbled on the nearby pile of supplies with a crash. Wood and ceramic chilled to extreme brittleness shattered on the impact.

    All of the huntresses were suddenly enveloped in a cloud of cold, white vapor as more frost powder mixed with water. Xantha could only look on in horror as the mass of liquid colder than a northern blizzard consumed their supplies.The office was spacious and well appointed. Wide, glass windows let in the late morning sun to spill across the carpeted floor.

    <hr>

    One wall was covered with soft tapestries and various mementoes. A finely wrought sword with an ivory handle and more gold gilding than steel hung next to its engraved scabbard. The tattered pennant bearing the Carnot crest looked odd among the treasures, but both held pride of place nonetheless.

    Across the room a bookcase packed with tomes stood against the far wall. More than anything else in the office, it showcased the wealth of its owner. There were more volumes held in those shelves than most could hope to see in their lives.

    From the overstuffed sofa to the end table bearing a cut crystal glass with matching decanter half full of dark red wine, comfortable luxury radiated from the small reading nook tucked into a corner. Its well used lamp spoke to long evenings spent studying the contents of the room''s library.

    A desk took pride of place in front of the window. It might well have been carved from a single piece of some sort of exotic, cherry-hued wood. The top was neat. Either side held a small stack of papers, weighed down by matching gold and silver draconic statuettes. The bottle of ink, pair of quill pens, and oil lamp that shared the space had all been moved to one side so as not to obstruct the view of the dragonette behind it, reading a report.

    Odit Carnot was entering late middle age, but the silvery sheen beginning to creep into his hide lent him an air of dignity. The slight bulge of muscle under his elegantly tailored tunic made it clear that he still held more than just political power.

    That political power was undeniable. He might not lead the Carnot family, but rumor had it that he would be ascending to that lofty perch within the decade. Odit had a reputation for fixing problems, be they a keep not producing its quota, a rival family stirring up trouble, or a subordinate making a mess of things.

    Every single item in the office seemed specifically crafted to complement its owner, save for two things.

    The first was the chair.

    It was utilitarian, made of simple wood without any cushions. Heavy, blocky, roughly sanded. Something more at home in a commoner''s tenement than the seat of the Carnots'' power.

    Then there was Xantha.

    She sat in that chair. Her best clothes were dull compared to her surroundings, and she did her best not to shift side to side on the uncomfortable seat. It was too short for her, the back dug into her tail, and her knees ached.

    Her left arm itched and burned from the frost burn. The bandage covering it was already tinged blue. Still, she made no move to adjust her posture or touch the wound.

    The shadows had grown visibly shorter since she had been led into the room, but the huntress knew better than to speak up.

    Finally, Odit lifted his gaze from the paper he had been studying. His expression was neutral, ears held stiff, but his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her.

    "I''m curious." The senior dragonette leaned forward, tone mild. His polished horns sparkled in the sunlight as he asked, "Do you know just how badly you''ve messed up?"

    Xantha bristled at the words. "It was an accident-"

    "A mistake."

    The word was pronounced with exquisite care, like he was speaking to a particularly slow child. Xantha''s hands tightened and claws dug into the wooden chair, but she took a deep breath. "Fine. A mistake. They happen."

    ''I''m not going to let some old man who hasn''t done a day''s real work in his life bully me into taking the fall for something not even my fault.''

    "From what I understand, they happen quite a bit around you."

    "Says who?"

    "Lady Jeleen, for one. And huntress Draka."

    Her eyes narrowed. "They''ve had it out for me since I arrived!"

    "And I have a number of reports from your previous subordinates." Odit pressed on as if she hadn''t spoken. "Did I mention that I know Major Hashaw as well?"

    ''That bitch!'' But Xantha held her tongue even as the mention of her old guard commander sent her teeth grinding.

    "To be fair, not all of the mistakes were yours. Poor Tilvi made a mistake when he chose you as his mate."

    "Fuck you!" she snarled, composure breaking.

    Odit only raised one eyeridge and shook his head at the display. "And I suppose that I made a mistake assigning you as a huntress. You''re clearly not suited for the task."

    "Because I spilled some defective frost powder?"

    "Because you lack the judgment that the gods gave a hatchling." Xantha opened her mouth to argue but snapped it shut when the noble slammed a fist down on his desk with enough force to send a paperweight tumbling to land in the plush carpet.

    "That cut rate frost powder was only the last in a long line of mistakes." He practically spat the last word, as if it tasted like rancid meat. "You''re insubordinate. You can''t even meet the most basic quotas. You bring thieves and scum to Lady Jeleen''s keep and you drive away anyone with a shred of integrity. You do the bare minimum and often avoid even that!"

    Every charge hit Xantha like a slap to the face. Some part of her was still rational enough to think. Through it, she could see exactly what was going on.

    "You set me up!"

    For the first time, something other than cold anger crossed the older dragonette''s face. His brows knit slightly and the corners of his mouth turned down. "If you truly believe that, then it''s yet another mistake on your part."

    "And you can tell yourself that your hands are clean because you got your lackeys to fuck me over instead, but that''s your mistake!"

    "See, I admit to making one mistake. But unlike you, I plan on making it right."

    "Oh, and how''s that?" She already knew, but she was tired of this verbal fencing.

    "Xantha," he began, voice taking on a formal tone. "Your place among this family was extended first out of love, then out of courtesy. However, it is the determination of House Carnot that this courtesy was a mistake. As a consequence of your poor judgment and failure to bring honor to this house, it is being withdrawn."

    Odit withdrew a small purse from inside of his desk and tossed it to her. She caught it on instinct, and the contents jingled.

    "There is your share of the keep''s estimated production for the year." The heft was lighter than it should have been. "Of course, the damage to the shipment you caused will impact the profitability of the keep. Count yourself lucky that we are not requiring you to pay for what you destroyed."

    "Fine." The word came out harsh, through gritted teeth and bared lips. "When are you bringing me Kesti?"

    "Ah, yes, your daughter." Odit''s expression went blank once more. "Despite your mistakes, she is still one of us by blood. She bears none of the blame for your actions."

    Xantha had thought that things couldn''t get worse, but apparently this ocean didn''t have a bottom. She took a deep breath and shook her head. "It doesn''t matter. She''s my daughter."

    "She would have a much better life in the family than you could hope to provide her. She would grow up-"

    "Bring. Me. My. Daughter."

    He sighed. "Fine. However, given the financial burden you have been on the family, you will be required to pay for her transport. And the transport of a guardian, as it would be irresponsible to have a hatchling travel so far on her own. I''m afraid the cost will not be insignificant."

    His words didn''t register for a moment. They were so outrageous, so utterly insane that she could only gape in horrified astonishment.

    And then they clicked.

    "You egg sucking son of a bitch!" Xantha was out of her chair and lunging forward, arms extended to wring the worthless noble''s neck.

    Hands seized her before she could cross half the distance to the desk. A pair of guards had entered while she was distracted, and they wrestled her back.

    "That''s a no, then?" Odit Carnot asked, eyeridge lifted and the ghost of a smile on his face.

    "I''ll kill you! I''ll burn this house to the ground! I''ll burn this whole city to the ground and dance on the ashes and-"

    Her rant was cut off by a solid blow to the side of her head. Not enough to knock her out, but enough to send her reeling.

    Odit didn''t bat an eye at the display. He simply turned to one of the guards and said, "That sounded like a threat. You saw it, right?"

    "Yes, sir," the guard answered. "A very serious threat."

    Air hissed between the noble''s teeth as he shook his head and rose to step around his desk. "Then I think you should take her to the city guard. They''ll deal with her appropriately, I''m sure." He leaned down to eye level with the slumped former huntress and let out a completely unconvincing sigh. "Unfortunately, Xantha, actions have consequences. Be sure to remember that."

    She was still blinking in pain and confusion as the guards turned her around and roughly dragged her from the room.

 Chapter 13: Broken Survivors

    The forest shook as Faelon collapsed.

    "How? What-? Oh, fuck!" Aytin gasped. But he was already running towards the enormous red dragon.

    As bad as Aytin''s mutilations were, they paled in comparison to Faelon''s wounds. Cracked and scorched scales surrounded an angry gash on the dragon''s side as long as the dragonette was tall. It was heavily scabbed, but thin lines of blue ichor seeped out from cracks where it had reopened.

    Smaller wounds covered Faelon''s flanks underneath the layer of obscuring mud. They ranged from patches of missing scales to forearm length rents still stained blue with dried blood. One of his horns was missing the tip, and the outermost digit on his front left foreclaw was nothing but a stump.

    But by far the worst damage was to the dragon''s left wing.

    It could hardly be called a wing anymore. White bone showed through where it jutted through the membrane and muscle. That bone was shattered in at least four places, one of which was nearly at the shoulder. And a good quarter of the wing was completely missing, the final wing-finger and its membrane torn completely off.

    What was left of the once powerful limb hung limp and tattered.

    Faelon raised his head slightly and finally spoke. "More?"

    "More?" Aytin echoed, dumbly.

    "More... of them?" His chest heaved like he had flown for hours at a dead sprint.

    It still took long moments for Aytin to realize what he was talking about. "No. There were only the four of them. At least on the island."

    "Good."

    Faelon let his head slump forward once again.

    For a moment, Aytin was terrified that this had been the final effort of a dying dragon. There were legends of some pushing through mortal wounds to finish one final task.

    But, no. He could see the Faelon''s massive chest continuing to move.

    "Faelon?" He ventured, voice barely above a whisper.

    The dragon didn''t move, but he did open one enormous eye and fixed the dragonette with his gaze.

    "Are you-" Aytin cut himself off before asking a stupid question. No red dragon who looked like that could ever be alright.

    "How can I help?" he asked, instead. ''Do something. Gotta do something.''

    "Rest." The eye drooped, but before it closed completely he added, "And... food."

    With that, Faelon slumped. He didn''t even waste the effort of curling his tail or intact wing around himself. He simply passed out where he lay.

    Tough did not begin to describe the average dragon. They were mountains of armored muscle that could outfly any dragonette ever born and shrug off wounds that would be mortal to any smaller creature. And if something didn''t kill them outright, they could usually heal from it given time and just a little care.

    There was a reason that the best way to fight a rogue dragon was with another dragon. Numbers might overwhelm one, but when those weren''t available only lancers like Aytin''s father could hope to take one down.

    The young dragonette brushed a hand across his kinked horn at the thought of his dad. Only a tiny handful of them ever survived the suicidal charges they could be called on to perform. Dragon hides were thick, and a lancer had to drive their weapon in at top speed to reach anything vital. That tended to also shatter the bones of whoever was holding the weapon, and was also why most famous living lancers - the Bloodhorn included - made their reputations through other endeavors.

    But the reputation for draconic endurance made Faelon''s appearance far more shocking. Not just the injuries from the battle and his crash landing. Ribs were showing on his flanks and patches of scales were missing without any wounds to account for them. He looked... sick; something that was almost unheard of.

    Aytin spent long minutes watching the dragon''s sleeping form, wondering what sort of hellish ordeal he had been through. It certainly put his own captivity in perspective.

    ''At least I might be able to fly again.'' He looked from his own wounds to the shattered and torn remnants of Faelon''s left wing and shuddered.

    Before he could go too far down that path, Aytin forced himself to think about the problem at hand. Mainly, food.

    The pot of rabbit stew cooking in the keep would make a decent mouthful for a dragon. The rest of the preserved meat and rations at the ruined keep might make another. No more. And it wasn''t like the young dragonette had much fat on his bones, either.

    First, he had to find out what he had to work with. Then he would try to figure out a plan.

    There wasn''t much left of the three brigands that Faelon had burned. They were charred beyond recognition along with anything they might have carried.

    Aytin did manage to recover the ax that Zan had dropped. Its handle was singed, but it was otherwise intact. A quick swing into the trunk of a handy tree proved that with a satisfying thunk.

    He had mixed feelings about Zan. Out of all of his captors, the former apothecary had at least avoided being cruel. Glimmers of kindness even showed through at times. Aytin would have happily broken the wings of the rest of them, and kicked them over the island''s edge into the depths of hell below.

    For what he had helped do to Reed and Bush and Voxin and all the rest, Zan deserved to die. Aytin knew that. But a piece of him regretted that fact.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Juniper''s corpse was more useful than the rest, although the sight of her was a gruesome one. Not only was she torn in half, but just about every one of her bones was broken. Aytin was at a loss to figure out how she ended up this way until he noticed the blue stain at the tip of Faelon''s tail. Then he winced at the thought of being hit by that tree-trunk sized cord of muscle and bone.

    From her mangled corpse, Aytin managed to recover a quiver with five arrows, a well used steel knife, and some flint and tinder. There was also a pouch full of jerky - which he promptly ate - and another with a couple of silver worth of coins in it.

    Money wasn''t exactly useful in these circumstances. Still, he took it anyway. He grabbed her belt as well. It was a little big for him, but better than nothing which is what the brigands had left him.

    Juniper''s bow wasn''t with her body. Aytin had to search back along the path Faelon made in the brush before he found it.

    A test pull showed that, like the bow he had used hunting with Xantha weeks earlier, the draw weight on this one was manageable, even if it was stronger than he was used to.

    Armed and determined, Aytin began to plan.

    All sorts of animals called the island home. The brigands had brought back a deer and rabbits. They''d talked about signs of boar and even tirox. And Aytin himself had seen squirrels and all manner of wild birds.

    It was too bad he didn''t know the first thing about hunting any of them.

    ''Well, I know the first thing,'' he thought to himself. ''Come in from above.''

    That wasn''t happening. Not without a miracle. And the chance that a god would take pity on him and perform one were about on par with the king himself flying to the rescue at the front of a wing of the royal guard.

    Aytin made his way to the forest edge, anyway, holding out hope that a herd of deer or something had wandered out to graze.

    No such luck. It might be criss-crossed with game trails, but right then the area around the keep was deserted. Only a few birds flitted about. Certainly no herds of deer or packs of wild boar.

    He knew about traps. A little, at least. Mostly that huntresses sometimes put out snares for certain game.

    Aytin thought he might be able to come up with something based on his expanded knowledge of knots, but it would be a case of trial and error. One that would take days or more to play out.

    ''I wonder how many rabbits it would take to feed Faelon?'' he wondered, watching grass rustle where some small creature was passing. ''Twenty? Thirty? Fifty? Way more than I could catch in a day.''

    Ducks or geese might be a better option. Flocks of them were beginning to migrate south for the upcoming winter. If they could make a net and find a pond, they might be able to catch a dozen at a time. Plucking feathers was one of Aytin''s least favorite chores, but he would cheerfully clean a hundred of the bloody, stinking birds for just a few mouthfuls of that dark, juicy meat.

    ''Maybe Faelon can hit the water with a burst of fire. Boil them where they float.''

    He was only half joking. But the problem with dragon fire was it didn''t tend to leave much in the way of edible bits, and near misses would char the hides of animals, contaminating the meat with the stench of burnt hair. Aytin had heard somewhere that blues could use their lightning to stun prey, but most dragons preferred to swoop in with fang and claw.

    His gaze was drawn back to the crows flying around the clearing. There wasn''t any point going after them. They were all bone and gristle, and damn little at that.

    But then he noticed that the birds were all concentrated in one patch of sky. Specifically, they seemed to be circling above something maybe ten minutes'' walk away.

    Intrigued and without any better idea, Aytin started heading in that direction, leaving the wounded dragon to rest for now.

    The weather should have been dark and stormy after everything that had happened, but the gods had never gotten that message. Instead, it was one of those beautiful early fall days, without a cloud in sight and the sun high overhead warming the dragonette''s back.

    In the distance, to the north of the keep, one particular stand of trees dominated the horizon and towered over their fellows. The heaven oaks were massive, and these were on the small side. Young, probably planted there by the keep dwellers before they left.

    Aytin tried to keep his mind on the present during his walk. He didn''t want to think about what might come next. Not yet. But he didn''t want to reflect on his captivity, either.

    There was one safe thing that he could think about. The sudden realization hit him so hard that he froze in his tracks. ''I found my magic!''

    After everything that had happened, he hadn''t had time to consider that he should have been dead ten times over during his sprint down the side of the ridge. At the time, he had only known he could do it. Something had told him that much.

    He tried to focus on the feeling that had gone through him during the escape. Surprisingly, it came easily. An impossible to describe certainty that whatever happened, he would not fall.

    The trunk of a long dead tree lay on its side nearby. Determined to test his new magic, Aytin took a running start and then leapt onto the rotting log. A chunk gave way beneath his feet, but he instinctively shifted his weight to compensate.

    A few long strides took him to the far side where he spun in place. Without bothering to look, the dragonette ran back to where he started and jumped, landing balanced on a single foot.

    Despite it all, Aytin laughed. It was short and sharp and tinged with more than a little irony. Still, it was the only little sliver of real good that had come out of this whole mess.

    It wasn''t exactly the most useful power under the circumstances. Not like healing, or mage-craft, or strength, or improved senses might have been. But the first two required years of training to use, and the more he thought about it, the more Aytin realized his magic might be more useful than he thought.

    Transferring his ax to his left hand and drawing Juniper''s knife, he set the tip on one talon and let it stand free. This took some concentration, and he had to wobble his hand back and forth to keep it upright, but the blade stayed upright even as he walked.

    Stooping, he set the tip on a rock, carefully balanced it, and then let go.

    The knife fell to the dirt with a soft thump.

    ''Okay, so there are limits. Good to know.'' He guessed that his power could only affect his own body. That was common as far as magic went. Most abilities were internal and the few that weren''t worked best up close. It still opened up a few interesting possibilities.

    Aytin was so busy with his contemplations that only the raucous cawing of the crows reminded him that he had arrived at his destination.

    His eyes widened at what he found.

    The trees here were different. Their broad, green leaves marked them out from the surrounding pines and scrub. But more importantly, they were filled with birds gorging themselves on the small, reddish fruits hanging from their branches.

    Aytin dropped his ax and rushed to grab an apple from a branch hanging low from their weight, eliciting a squawking protest from the nearby crows. He ignored them, not even bothering to wipe the skin off before sinking his teeth into the fruit

    The first bite was indescribable.

    Part of him knew it was dry and sour, with thick skin and a musty aftertaste. But after being starved, abused, and worked to the bone for the past week, he didn''t care. It was still sweet and starchy. And he could eat all he wanted.

    Aytin had grabbed another even before he finished with the first. Not that it took him long. He was done in seconds, leaving only the stem and a sliver of core before moving on.

    A single gorging dragonette couldn''t hope to make a dent in the bounty. There were twenty or more apple trees, most of them fully mature.

    He was on his eighth fruit - or was it tenth? - when he paused, and his eyes opened wide as he remembered why he had come this way to begin with.

    Leaving the ax where it lay, Aytin turned and sprinted back for the forest and the sleeping red dragon he had left behind.

 Chapter 14: Taking Stock

    Running with a stomach full of apples turned out not to be one of Aytin''s best decisions. He was quickly forced to slow to a panting jog and then a fast walk, but he still made better time than his trip out.

    Faelon was exactly where Aytin had left him, still sprawled out on the forest floor. If it weren''t for the slow rise and fall of his massive chest, he might as well have been a small, crimson-splotched hill.

    Or dead.

    Rather than approach the sleeping dragon - a dubious prospect at the best of times - Aytin stood off a reasonable distance and called out, "Faelon!"

    The precaution proved to be warranted. Faelon jerked, tail whipping and head snapping up. It took him long seconds for his eyes to focus on Aytin. At the sight of the dragonette, he relaxed, settling back down from the half-crouch he had risen to.

    "What?"

    The single word didn''t come out unkindly, instead conveying a bone deep weariness.

    In response, Aytin held out an apple.

    Faelon raised one eye ridge. It might as well have been a single berry as far as he was concerned. From his perspective, it was probably more effort to swallow than it was worth.

    "I found an old orchard!" Aytin explained, excitedly. "Juniper and Opal said they found some apple trees, and it must be what they were talking about!"

    This got more of a reaction. Faelon rose slowly. "I assume there''s enough for me?"

    Aytin nodded, hurriedly. "The trees are full of them!"

    "Then lead on." He started forward slowly, each footstep cautious and accompanied by the occasional shuddering wince. "While meat would have been nice, I haven''t eaten in days. Much longer and I might have considered trying grass." He shuddered slightly at the thought.

    Normally, a dragon could easily outdistance a dragonette on the ground, but Faelon was taking things slowly. Between exhaustion, malnourishment, and injury, he was on his last legs. But the promise of nearby food kept him moving as Aytin led them at a fast walk.

    They left a small furrow behind them, dotted with little blue specks of blood. Faelon''s left wing dragged along the ground, broken and torn.

    Every time the wing snagged on a tree or rock, Aytin could see his companion flinch. It hurt to watch, and his own wings ached in sympathy.

    In an effort to distract Faelon from the pain, Aytin asked, "How did you survive? I saw... what happened." He trailed off, unsure of what else he could say.

    "Luck. If you can call it that," Faelon answered.

    "I caught the gust front from that storm just as I passed below the clouds. It gave me the lift to keep from smashing into the ground. I was able to smash into a tree, instead." He twitched the remains of his left wing, then snorted in pain. "It did more damage than that cowardly, ocean-spawned blue managed."

    Suddenly, his focus narrowed and he speared Aytin with a piercing stare. "Where is it? You said those four I killed were the only ones on the island, so where are the rest? Where is that dragon?"

    Faced with a dragon''s total attention, Aytin blanched. "Headed to Luffin Keep! With Xantha and the rest of her gang!"

    He realized it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left his mouth, and Faelon curled his lips back in a razor-fanged snarl.

    "They''re trying to ransom me!" The words tumbled out in a self-preservation fueled rush.

    That prompted a long, searching stare. But Aytin found that after the last week, he could meet the dragon''s eyes without backing down.

    Eventually, Faelon relented, apparently taking the explanation at face value. "Did any of the other crew survive?"

    At Aytin''s head shake, he sighed. It was a sigh that spoke volumes. "When I saw you, I had hope. But I did not expect otherwise."

    "They only cared about me," Aytin said in apology.

    They continued walking, Faelon deep in thought and Aytin letting him digest the news about his crew.

    "I don''t understand how they knew," Faelon muttered after several minutes. But a mutter from something as big as a dragon was clearly audible from a dozen paces. "This island is nowhere near a trade route. But they were waiting for me, and they knew about you. How?"

    The question was only half rhetorical and it was one the young dragonette had an answer to.

    "Xantha sold us out," Aytin spat. "She made up the shit about a way around the storm and got me out of the way when the attack started. Then drugged me before I could do anything."

    "Does she still live?"

    "Last I saw." Aytin didn''t need to hear the deep growl in the dragon''s chest to know the sort of emotions Faelon was dealing with. He''d already had time to come to terms with similar feelings, himself.

    "She''s their leader, now. I think Reed killed their old one in the attack. Del, they called him. So Xantha''s off with Kalthor - the blue dragon - and maybe fifteen or so others."

    "And they''ll be back soon?"

    "Four more weeks. Maybe five at the outside. That''s what I overheard, at least."

    "I could fly- could have flown there in a week."

    "They talked about having to lay low and skirt the main trade routes, so it''s at least double the normal flight time. Then I figure that it will take at least a week of passing messages back and forth with my family before they understand they really won''t pay for a fourth-born." Aytin said the last with a bitter grin.

    "You seem sure of that."

    "For Zara - my oldest sister - they might have scraped up a couple of hundred gold. But the family... we''re not as well off as we pretend to be."

    It was a revelation that would have gotten him exiled, at best, had he uttered it to an outsider in any other circumstance. But somehow, it didn''t feel like secrecy mattered on this forsaken island.

    Faelon was appropriately incredulous. "How has that come to be? I have known your mother since not long after she hatched, as well as the lady and lord before her. It is difficult to imagine them mismanaging things to such a degree.

    "And the lands surrounding your keep did not look reduced since my last visit. Quite the opposite, in fact. You must have doubled the size of the surrounding fields."

    Aytin nodded in assent. "But did you see what was growing in those fields? It wasn''t crops to feed the miners. We''ve planted smoking weed. Spices. Alchemical herbs. Nothing we''ve ever grown before."

    He turned so he could look the dragon in his eyes. "We''re not tilling those new fields out of prosperity. It''s because only a single copper vein is still producing."

    "Ah."

    "Yeah. My mother and father are scrambling to find new sources of income. A bunch of the people working the fields were in the mines last year, and they''ve expanded the huntresses.

    "My little sister Lin has been out scouting as much as hunting. Looking for any new resources to exploit. The island is pretty well surveyed, but it''s still the frontier and they''ve found a few surprises. But we have to do it quietly, and have a new source of income before the copper mines dry up."

    "Your family is worried that if they show weakness, others will sense your position and put pressure on you."

    With how reserved Faelon had always been before, Aytin had pegged Reed as the leader of their merchant endeavor. Which might be true, but it didn''t mean the dragon was stupid. He certainly had centuries of experience to draw on.

    "We''re especially worried about our presence in the capital," Aytin said. "Uncle Cork has spent a couple of decades investing our surplus into various ventures there. I was headed there to become his protegee. Or try, at least.

    "Anyway, the keep is safe out on the frontier, but I hear the nobles in the capital are another breed. They don''t like provincial types playing in their patch of sky." He rolled his eyes at the moniker. "If they got wind that our financial backing was drying up, they''d come after us like a flock of hungry vargulfs. At best, it would cost us hundreds of gold in investments and opportunities. At worst, we could lose everything the family has built over the centuries."

    He looked towards the nearby mesa and the ruined keep on top; at the indisputable proof of how far they might fall.

    "We haven''t had to start selling the family treasures yet, and gods willing we won''t have to," the young noble said, half to reassure himself.

    "There''s still enough copper stashed in our warehouses that we haven''t missed a shipment. When that runs out, we need a replacement ready. Something will pan out, but until then, money''s tight. Way too tight to waste on me." He said the last with a soft, humorless bark of a laugh.

    "Reed and I had wondered. We rarely get passengers on the outward leg, and we... we were hardly the only ones to visit the Luffin Keep."

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "She offered us a good rate," Aytin said with a shrug.

    "We were light on crew and he knew he could get some work out of you," Faelon explained. "The lord and lady agreed. They thought it would be a good experience for you."

    Aytin sighed. "Thanks for telling me mom," he said to himself. Louder, he asked, "So I guess that means Reed put Xana up to everything on the first day?"

    "She volunteered."

    "Oh." Considering it all, that made a lot of sense.

    Suddenly, Faelon seemed to come just a bit more alive. His pace picked up and his tail lifted so it was no longer cutting a furrow through the tall grass. He stretched his neck forward, towards the apple trees that were finally in sight.

    Aytin had to jog to keep up, but it took less than a minute to cover the distance.

    Faced with an oncoming adult dragon, the flock of crows erupted in a screeching cloud. They didn''t go far, though, quickly settling into the upper branches of the surrounding trees, where they perched eyeing the intruder and occasionally calling out to one another.

    Faelon settled down in the center of the old orchard, and extended his right wing. After a moment of hesitation, Aytin walked up the improvised ramp and onto the dragon''s back. Dried mud flaked off with every step, revealing more of the red scales and wing membrane with every step.

    It was much easier to reach the apples with the extra height. Aytin plucked a handful of the ripest looking ones, but then paused, looking back and forth between the dragon and comparatively tiny fruits.

    Sensing his smaller companion''s confusion, Faelon twisted his head around on his sinuous neck so he was facing the dragonette. "Just dump them in," he said, and opened his mouth wide.

    With a shrug, Aytin did as he was told, then went back for another armfull. And another. Only when there were over thirty apples in his maw did Faelon snap it shut, just barely missing his assistant''s hands in the process. Tipping his head up, he gulped down the mouthful of fruit before returning back to his starting point.

    "More?"

    In any other circumstance, Aytin might have laughed at the dragon''s pleading look. Instead, he just got back to shoveling fruit into his mouth.

    They continued like that for almost half an hour, rarely speaking and then only when necessary. As Aytin finished stripping the apples from one tree, he would direct Faelon to shift over to a new one. By the time he was finally satisfied, they had stripped a large chunk of the orchard bare.

    "When was the last time you ate?" Aytin asked in wonder. The dragon had managed to consume the weight of a large deer in apples.

    Faelon had settled down in the late afternoon sun, by all appearance dead to the world. But he had one eye open and focused on the nearby dragonette.

    "Five days? A week? I gorged on what food I was carrying before setting off for this keep." He made an incremental motion towards the ruins across the meadow. "I saw it on my way down. It would either provide a safe refuge or an opportunity to sink my talons into the ones who did this. When I spotted the searchers, I knew it would be the latter."

    Thoughts of food, clean clothes, equipment, and weapons flashed through Aytin''s mind. "What about the rest of the cargo?"

    "What''s left is hidden a few days'' hike from here." Faelon raised his head slightly to look west, and then up at the sky, longingly. "I couldn''t risk being bogged down."

    "Oh."

    Neither said anything for long minutes. A few of the braver crows tentatively returned to the far edge of the orchard, hunger overriding the fear of the massive predator. They let out raucous caws at the pair, as if proving to themselves that they were unafraid of the intruders.

    For the first time since the attack, Aytin felt himself relax. He stared across the field, not looking at anything in particular, just enjoying the lack of the specter of imminent death hanging above his head.

    It was Faelon who broke the silence. "I... I will need more than this."

    Hesitance was something odd to hear in a dragon. The young dragonette turned, a questioning look on his face.

    "More food," the dragon elaborated. "This will not last."

    After a moment, Aytin realized what he meant. They had stripped about a quarter of the orchard bare.

    "We''ll figure something out." He thought back to his earlier ideas for traps. "Say, think you could dig a real deep hole? Something big enough for a deer to fall into?"

    "Easily," Faelon said, brightening. Then he sagged once more. "But most animals fear a dragon''s scent. It would take days or weeks to fade."

    "We''ll figure something out," Aytin repeated.

    "If you think of anything, let me know." To himself, the dragon muttered, "I''d swim through hell for a mouthful of venison."

    Aytin tried. For the rest of the afternoon, they talked about the problem. But it was easier said than done.

    Neither of them had any practical experience with hunting from the ground. Faelon had actually seen a few snares, but couldn''t give much insight into how they worked. Nor would his breath weapon be all that useful, being too short ranged and liable to char whatever it hit. Driving a herd of animals into pits or past an ambush was one of their best ideas, but it assumed that they could find a herd and keep it bolting in the right direction.

    "If we can just get some deer to come near me, I know I could hit one. Maybe two. You could run down a wounded deer, right?"

    "Of course," was the dragon''s reply. When Aytin looked pointedly at the wounded wing that drug behind him with every step, he returned the look stoically. "It won''t be a problem."

    The dragonette shrugged. Hopefully, he could get a kill shot. He was confident in that, assuming he could get the deer within fifty paces or so.

    He looked up towards the sun, beginning its descent towards the horizon. "It''s getting late," he observed. "We should head for the keep."

    "I don''t suppose they have a hot shower or a sand pit there?" At the shake of Aytin''s head, Faelon sighed. "A pity. This mud is quite itchy." But he rose, slowly shaking his bulk.

    "There''s a spring nearby that feeds into a small pond at the bottom of the mesa. I can help you scrub off tomorrow."

    "Very well then. I will hold you to that."

    Grabbing a few apples for later and the ax he had left earlier, Aytin started back towards the keep, only to be stopped by Faelon blocking his way. The dragon extended his good wing as a ramp once more.

    "It will be faster this way," he explained. "And I am feeling much better."

    Shrugging, Aytin climbed on and together they set off for the keep.

    Even with his lamed wing dragging, Faelon was true to his word. His purposeful strides moved them along at the speed of a jogging dragonette.

    When they arrived at the keep''s ruins, it felt strange. The place had been Aytin''s prison, but now it belonged to him.

    ''Well, it belongs to me and Faelon,'' he reflected.

    It still didn''t seem quite real. Aytin kept expecting to hear Nyx yelling at him or one of the sisters to shove him out of the way. But it was quiet inside of the stone walls.

    The cookfire had died down to a pile of ashes. Above it sat a pot of lukewarm rabbit stew. A sip confirmed that it was well and truly overcooked. The meat was dry and the dried vegetables weren''t much more than mush.

    It was food, though. Aytin ladled out a large bowl for himself, then hauled the rest outside. The remaining contents of the pot weren''t much more than a mouthful for Faelon, but he accepted them without complaint before settling himself against the sun-warmed west wall.

    Returning inside the keep, Aytin stoked the fire up once more, and then took the time to take inventory. The contents of the brigands'' packs were an eclectic mix of the useful gear, odd nick-nacks, and uncomfortably personal possessions.

    Like the ornately carved box in Juniper''s gear full of various woodworking tools, stains, and polishes. A closer look at her bow revealed intricate stippling on the grip, framed by the twisting figures of flying dragons.

    Her sister''s interests seemed more conventional. Aytin dug a wooden box with cards and some dice out of Opal''s pack. Thinking back, he had seen her pestering the others into games of chance over the last week.

    They seemed normal enough, but the box that held them felt odd. A bit of jiggling revealed a hidden compartment containing another six sided die.

    Playing a hunch, he tossed it a few times. Three times out of five it came up six. ''So that''s how she managed to always come out ahead.''

    Zan''s pack held all of the expected ingredients and implements of an apothecary, but also writing supplies and a small book. A quick glance through the roughly bound volume revealed it to be a mixture of recipes and notes about daily happenings. It only took skimming a few of the passages to see that the brigand had a low opinion of most everyone in the group, save Xana and the previous leader Del.

    Aytin resolved to look through it more when he had a chance; both for any insights in the group''s plans and any useful recipes it might contain. A slight shiver in one wing reminded him of the slashes in the membrane and how Zan had said he would probably need more treatment in the coming days.

    The biggest surprise was hidden beneath Nxy''s sleeping mat. A lump turned out to be a small, well thumbed book.

    He nearly burst out laughing as he opened it to a random page, expecting a history or drama or maybe some sort of adventure, only to find the description of a rather steamy encounter between four dragonettes. Using a tail that way had never occurred to Aytin, and he knew anyone doing that in a hay loft would come out itchy and picking straw out from between their scales for hours. But like watching a stricken dragon falling out of the sky, he found he couldn''t stop reading until the scene was finished in every sense of the word.

    After going through the former belongings of the brigands, Aytin was left with a respectable pile of supplies and a vague sense of unease about stealing from the dead. Considering the circumstances, that discomfort was easily pushed aside.

    The good news was that between the preserved food, spare weapons, and gear Aytin was fairly sure he could feed himself for weeks, and maybe months. Long enough to maybe find another settlement on this island. If one keep had been built here, there were probably more.

    On the other wing, there was nothing to keep him safe from Xantha and Kalthor and the rest of the brigands when they returned. And all the food they had wouldn''t feed Faelon for a single day.

    By the time the inventory was complete, the sun had reached the horizon.

    Aytin stretched, wincing at the twinges from aching muscles his mutilated wings. Outside, he found Faelon still laying against the keep''s walls.

    The dragon opened one eye as Aytin approached.

    "It''s getting dark," the dragonette pointed out.

    Faelon didn''t move.

    "There''s room inside the keep. It''s a little cramped, but the walls keep the wind down." He didn''t add that he was looking forward to a night of actual sleep instead of a forced stupor.

    The narrow entrance that Aytin used wouldn''t fit a dragon, but Faelon would have no trouble climbing through the gap midway up the walls.

    But instead of rising, Faelon just said, "I''m fine out here."

    "Oh. You''re sure?" Aytin asked, surprise clear in his voice.

    "Yes." He didn''t elaborate.

    "Okay," Aytin said, then stood there awkwardly. "I''ll, uh, see you in the morning, then."

    The red dragon bobbed his head slightly, then settled back down while Aytin made his way back inside.

    Out of all of the bed rolls, Zan''s was the cleanest. Aytin appropriated it, and stuffed a pack with blankets to make a pillow.

    It had been an absolutely exhausting day. His early awakening, the slave labor, and the terror before his escape. Not to mention all the work finding and picking apples, then cataloging his supplies.

    But somehow, he couldn''t drift off. It should have been easy, just lay on his stomach, curl his wings around him, and close his eyes. But he kept jerking himself awake.

    The sun had long since set and the fire burned to embers when Aytin rose. It was chilly out, and he wrapped himself in a blanket as he dragged his bedroll and makeshift pillow through the keep''s exit more by feel than by sight.

    He had a brief moment of panic when he couldn''t see Faelon. But in the starlight, the dragon''s mud-flecked flanks almost disappeared into the walls of the keep. Aytin pulled his bedroll into the gap formed by his neck and those walls.

    Faelon stirred slightly, but never said a word as Aytin drifted off to sleep, one side resting against the dragon''s warm, comforting bulk.

 Chapter 15: How the Mighty Have Fallen

    It wasn''t particularly cold in the mid-morning sun. Summer wasn''t long passed and this island was still in the lower latitudes.

    Nonetheless, Aytin had to fight against cold-induced lethargy as he rode atop Faelon. He was having to focus on his magic just to keep from tumbling off at every step.

    "Can you... try not to shake so much?" he begged plaintively. "And maybe slow down until I''m dry?"

    Faelon, of course, wasn''t doing any better. Quite the opposite, in fact.

    "If I don''t keep moving, I''m going to pass out where I stand," he rumbled through gritted teeth. "That pond was cold!"

    "I told you to heat it up!"

    "And I told you I can only breathe so much fire at once!"

    Neither of them had been particularly happy with the bathing arrangements. The spring fed pond proved to be even colder than Aytin had feared. It didn''t help that a front had come through overnight, leaving the skies crystal clear and the air cool enough that Faelon''s breath briefly came out in billowing clouds before dawn warmed things up.

    Coming from a southern keep where the weather stayed relatively warm during the winter, it was quite the unpleasant experience for Aytin. One made worse by his promise to help scrub the mud off of Faelon''s hide.

    Thankfully, the dragon didn''t expect perfection. He just dunked himself in the water and then directed his much smaller companion towards the worst of the grime.

    At Faelon''s suggestion, Aytin made a makeshift brush out of a frayed branch. It worked well enough to scrape the muck out from between scales, but the process left him damp and filthy.

    Aytin shifted his wings slightly as the wind caught them and sent a jolt through their tears. The wounds burned, especially after being splashed with muddy water.

    He hoped they weren''t beginning to fester once again, but Zan''s comments about infection from... ''Was it really only yesterday?'' But the apothecary had said something about this particular wound needing lots of care.

    What had he said was in the potion? Palewort? He remembered some grass and powders, but there were a lot of jars of a lot of different things in the collection. And the comment about some things being poisons in the wrong dose wasn''t exactly comforting.

    I need to read his journal. Maybe he has instructions in there.

    Meanwhile, he pulled his wings in tighter and tried once again to get them under the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. But it was just a little too short and once again the wings slipped out.

    There were more blankets on Faelon''s back, and Aytin considered grabbing another, but he decided against it. He wasn''t quite ready to pit his balancing magic against a shivering dragon.

    Besides, they were nearly to the orchard.

    The apple trees were clearly visible from dragonback, and he was already looking forward to breakfast. There was preserved food back at the keep, but he''d decided not to dip into that. Jerky, salted meat, and hardtack would keep. Apples might not.

    An odd noise caught his attention. It was almost like the sound of two rusty metal bars rubbing together in the distance. And there was something like the gurgle of ale pouring out of a jug, only deeper.

    He was still trying to figure out exactly what it was he was hearing when Faelon topped over a small rise and they could finally see the bases of the apple trees over the tall grass.

    It took a few seconds to register exactly what was among the apple trees. At first they looked to Aytin''s cold-fogged mind like small brown and black bushes. But they moved. And as soon as they saw the red dragon, they moved very fast.

    Belatedly, Aytin reached for his bow, but any plan went out the window as Faelon charged. Bags, blankets, tunics, and every spare scrap of cloth the brigands had owned went flying. Even with his magic, Aytin had to grab onto scales and hold on for dear life to avoid getting thrown off.

    A wordless snarl ripped from between Faelon''s lips. The sound would have frozen Aytin in fear if he wasn''t already struggling to keep his hold. Riding a galloping dragon bareback was not an experience many dragonettes could claim, and it wasn''t an honor he had any intention of repeating.

    But it turned out to be all for nothing. By the time they reached the orchard, the pack of animals had already disappeared into the forest. Far faster than a land-bound dragon with his wing dragging behind him, the fading echoes of their squeals seemed to mock the far larger predator.

    Faelon looked like he might burn down the trees in a fit of rage. His chest expanded and his head pulled back. Aytin''s eyes went wide at the thought of their only source of food going up in smoke, but before he could say anything the dragon relaxed, although his eyes remained glued to where his prey had gone.

    "Damn," Faelon muttered. Then he looked back to see the trail of scattered supplies, and the dragonette only now relaxing his death grip on the dragon''s scales. "Damn," he repeated, with infinitely more weariness. His legs seemed to tremble from the strain of the sprint, nowhere near recovered from his week long trek across the island.

    "It''s... alright," Aytin panted, trying to get his panicked breathing under control. "I''ll pick it up. Just... could you let me down?"

    Wordlessly, Faelon extended his right wing and Aytin wobbled down it on unsteady legs.

    At least he wasn''t cold anymore.

    "What were those things?" Aytin asked as he picked up the first fallen blanket.

    "Wild boar," the dragon answered.

    "Huh." Now that he thought about it, they did look similar to the ones he remembered huntresses bringing home. Just furrier.

    He tried not to think about roast pork. He tried very hard not to think about roast pork.

    It didn''t work.

    Faelon hadn''t run far, and it was easy enough to gather all the fallen equipment. The last thing was Aytin''s bow, which had gone flying off along with everything else. Its wooden construction blended into the browning grass.

    Picking it up, he looked back towards the orchard and gauged the distance. ''Long for an arrow. And they were already starting to run. If everything had gone right, Aytin might have gotten a lucky hit. He doubted it, though. At half the distance, he felt confident in a hit, and maybe even two. Judging by the size of those pigs, it probably would have been enough to feed the pair of them for a couple of days.

    It wasn''t worth thinking about what might have been. Not when they never really had a chance to begin with.

    The soft loam in the orchard had been torn up by the pigs, but they couldn''t climb the trees. That was a relief because there wasn''t even a single gnawed core remaining on the ground.

    "I think this is the right idea," Aytin remarked after spreading a blanket on Faelon''s back, and then reaching for a cluster of apples. "If we leave these apples out much longer, animals will get them."

    He only got a grunt in reply.

    Their plan was to strip the orchard bare, and move the apples into the keep where they could protect them from the wildlife. Aytin had gathered anything that could be used to hold the fruits. Since they didn''t have baskets or barrels, they would make due mostly with makeshift cloth sacks.

    Aytin had only ever had fresh apples once before. A trader sold a cask of them to the keep for an exorbitant price. Every one of the fruits had been individually packed in dry straw to keep them from bruising.

    He tossed an apple into the growing pile. Their supply wouldn''t last long enough for bruising to be a problem. Speed was much more important.

    The next apple had holes in it.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Worms could be a problem. He''d seen them take over entire barrels of produce in days. It wasn''t worth risking their lives for a few extra bites of food.

    Regretfully, he tossed the tainted fruit into the orchard. Some animal would no doubt enjoy the snack

    Aytin paused at the thought.

    "Hey Faelon?"

    "Yes?" came the curt reply.

    "Pigs like apples, right?"

    The snort was answer enough.

    "Yes, I know, it''s a dumb question, but we''re about to have enough apples to keep us going for a few days, right?"

    Faelon wasn''t stupid. He perked up as he caught on. "I think I know where you are going with this. Bait for a trap?"

    "Or just pile up the rotten ones someplace where I can shoot a few."

    "Perhaps," the dragon mused.

    Aytin''s face fell. "But that''s not enough for you."

    "One would feed me for a day. Maybe two," Faelon agreed. "But the idea has merit."

    They continued with the harvest in silence for several minutes. Aytin had considered searching Zan''s notes for some sort of poison, but decided it would be too likely to contaminate the meat.

    He was just thinking about parceling the apples out in little batches so he could get one or two pigs with every one when Faelon spoke.

    "Pit traps."

    Aytin was confused. "I thought you said that they would smell anything you dug?"

    "They will. But if they are fleeing, they will not have time to catch the scent."

    "Okay..." The plan was starting to come together. "I think I see what you''re saying. We put a pile of apples on a game trail. You dig some pits on one side, I wait on the other. Then when the pigs come, I shoot a few and the rest run into the trap."

    Faelon surprised him with a rumbling chuckle. "Aytin, if the goal is to frighten the pigs, I can think of something much more terrifying than a few pointy sticks."

    "Wha- Oh. Ohhh."

    "Precisely." The dragon sounded a little smug. "I emerge from hiding, roar, scorch their flanks with bursts of fire, and the pigs will run right into the trap."

    Aytin was excited. "Where should we set it up? If we do it near the pond then that''s one direction they won''t be able to run. Or there''s that steep cliff on the side of the hill!"

    "Or focus on the job at hand. I would prefer not to hunt on an empty stomach. A assume you feel likewise?"

    "Oh." Aytin looked sheepishly at the tiny pile of apples he had collected so far. "You''re probably right."

    They went back to picking apples, but now all the rotten ones went into their own pile. There was also plenty of talk about how they would pull off their ambush. Mostly, it was Aytin voicing ideas as they came to him. Faelon generally contented himself to listen and occasionally make suggestions. Usually pointing out solutions to flaws the inexperienced dragonette hadn''t considered.

    "But if we put spikes on the bottom, you won''t have to dig the pits as deep!" Aytin explained while he tied the corners of a blanket together into a makeshift sack. It bulged with fruit and juices already stained the bottom.

    "I would rather dig a little more than have to deal with cleaning pig shit out of my dinner. And that is exactly what will happen when a branch as long and thick as one of my claws goes through their guts."

    "Sure, that will happen to a few of them. But we''ll catch more this way. That will make up for it."

    "And I suppose you will be cutting and sharpening enough stakes to fill all of these pits?"

    That was a detail he had forgotten about.

    "Maybe you can just dig the pits a little deeper after all."

    Aytin swore he could see the edge of a smile creeping onto Faelon''s face as he dragged the bag of rotting fruit up his wing and onto the dragon''s back. It was the last one. If there was an apple left in that orchard, it had taken lessons in camouflage from a changewing because they couldn''t find it.

    ''Those crows are going to be really disappointed.'' He looked for the birds in question and saw a group of them eyeing the pair from the forest.

    The pair had already gorged on the harvest. What remained would last a few days. At least three, and four or five if they rationed things. If they couldn''t hunt any meat tomorrow, the plan was to do exactly that.

    It was only a bit after noon by the time they got back to the keep to unload. Then Aytin grabbed his ax and a shovel to go with his knife and bow before they headed back down to the field below.

    From atop the rise, it had been easy to see where game trails cut through the grass below. Almost like flying, in fact. That thought had left Aytin in a somber mood as they planned their ambush.

    A number of those game trails converged near the pond. Unfortunately it didn''t look quite large enough to act as one side of their ambush, but the nearby mesa provided a steep enough rise to act as a barrier. With the bait in the right place, it would be easy to drive the herd into a line of pits. There was even a convenient depression formed by a seasonal creek nearby. It wasn''t quite big enough to hide a dragon, but a little bit of digging would change that easily enough.

    The streambed and mesa made a shape something like a wide V, with the pond at the point. Faelon didn''t waste any time beginning a series of trenches across the gap.

    He took care to avoid digging nearby any of the game trails. It wouldn''t do for the smell of a dragon to tip off their prey too soon. While that might let some of the pigs escape, Faelon was confident he could herd the bulk of them in the right direction.

    Aytin watched in amazement as Faelon finished the first trench. It was almost as deep as a dragonette was tall, and nearly as wide. After digging up a length at least as long as he was, Faelon shoved most of the dirt into piles at either end. The mounds would channel anything headed that way into the traps.

    ''I wish we had him in the mines,'' Aytin thought to himself. But considering the dragon''s reaction to the suggestion of helping in the Alrak mines back at the beginning of the journey, he couldn''t see that ever happening.

    It turned out that disguising the pits would take a lot longer than digging them. Not that they needed to be all that well hidden; just enough that a fleeing animal wouldn''t notice until it was too late. That still took dozens of branches, each covered with armloads of cut grass.

    Once again, Faelon proved how helpful a dragon could be by simply knocking down several small trees and snapping off finger-width branches with the flick of a hand. All that was left for Aytin to do was strip off any remaining leaves and position them over the holes.

    It was still exhausting work, often on treacherous ground. Twice, the edges of the pits gave way underneath his feet. It was only by channeling his magically enhanced sense of balance that he avoided falling in.

    Sunset was fast approaching by the time they finished. Neither dragon nor dragonette had the strength to lift their tails as they dragged behind them. And both were covered in dirt and grime.

    "Should we take a quick bath?" Aytin asked, not relishing another dip in the frigid water.

    Despite his best efforts to protect them, his wings were filthy. Gingerly touching one of the long tears in the membrane, he jerked back with a quiet hiss. It was definitely getting worse.

    "Yes. Although I hope the water is warmer," Faelon remarked as he strode towards the pond.

    Thankfully, the sun had warmed the shallow pool. A little, at least.

    Aytin only staggered a few times as he struggled out of the water and back to land where he dried himself using an old blanket. The rough wool still smelled of apples, but he''d rather smell like overripe fruit than be cold and wet.

    He winced as the rough fabric caught on one of his wing rips. They were already burning from their dip in the water, and with the dirt cleaned off it was clear that the dark-blue swelling was spreading again.

    Big drops of water suddenly spattered him, and he yelped in surprise.

    Faelon had just emerged from the water and was shaking his bulk back and forth to dry off. Water rained down like a sudden storm and Aytin scrambled for cover.

    "A little warning would have been nice!"

    "You didn''t need any this morning." The dragon sounded a little confused.

    "Because I was ready for it this morning!"

    "Why weren''t you... oh." Faelon took a few steps closer and leaned towards Aytin, examining his wings.

    The young dragonette fought the urge to pull them in tight. Instead, he let them extend slightly.

    "Those look bad," the dragon remarked. He pushed closer and took a long sniff. "They smell bad, too."

    "They''re nothing like as bad as yours."

    "I will heal." Faelon deliberately avoided looking at his broken and torn wing. They both knew that a dragon''s healing couldn''t regenerate what wasn''t there, and a good third of the limb was missing.

    It didn''t feel right complaining about some little cuts in the face of that. "I''ll be fine," Aytin said. "Zan had something he made that helped. I''ll find the recipe tomorrow. There will be plenty of time to read while we wait for our dinner to show up, right?"

    Faelon snorted in reply. "You need real medicine."

    "I don''t see a healer setting up shop around here. Do you?"

    "There was some in the cargo."

    That brought Aytin up short. "You had healing potions?"

    There was an enormous difference between an apothecary''s medicine and actual magic. Alchemically created potions were expensive, but well worth the cost. If a potion were powerful enough, or there were more than one, they might be able to fix Aytin''s wings entirely. It would take debriding the wounds, but being able to fly again would be well worth the pain.

    "Nothing so valuable. Our trade route was not that lucrative," Faelon replied, dashing the other''s hopes. "But I carried prepared salves for treating infection. They''re hidden with the rest of my cargo a few days'' walk away."

    "Oh." Aytin tried not to let the disappointment show in his voice. "We need more food before we can make that sort of hike, though. So I''ll read through the journal, anyway."

    His response was a draconic shrug. "I''ll admit that the trip would be easier with a belly full of pork. But it is late, and tomorrow we rise at dawn."

    "Don''t remind me," Aytin grumbled. But he climbed up the offered wing and together the pair made their way back to the crumbling ruins of the keep.

 Chapter 16: Hunter and Prey

    The sun was approaching its zenith and that was beginning to make Aytin nervous.

    He hadn''t seen anything larger than a rabbit the entire day. They knew prey was out here. Before they left the night before, Aytin had laid out a handful of apples. That bait was gone in the morning, but whatever ate it hadn''t bothered to show up for the main course.

    And it was getting uncomfortable up in the tree Aytin was sitting in. His magic meant that he was never in any danger of falling, but that didn''t make the narrow branches any nicer to sit on.

    Below, Faelon lay in the depression he had enlarged from a seasonal creek bed. By the look of things, the red dragon was enjoying a nap while his companion kept a lookout.

    Aytin couldn''t really begrudge the dragon his sleep. He had done the bulk of the work preparing their ambush the day before. More critically, until they had more food, anything he could do to conserve energy was a good thing.

    Idly, the young dragonette flipped through another page in Zan''s journal. It was proving to be difficult to decipher. Not because the recipes were complicated, but because the apothecary''s handwriting and spelling were so terrible. He spent most of his time puzzling out which splotches of ink on the page were letters and which were from forgetting to blot the paper after scrawling a note.

    What he had found so far was somewhat interesting, but not particularly useful. The rants, he mostly ignored after the first couple. And most of the rambling thoughts Zan had put to paper weren''t worth reading over. He mostly skipped those, save for the odd bit that caught his eye. Like the poem about Xantha.

    That had been so terrible and graphic that he had to read it out of morbid curiosity. It honestly explained a lot about Zan''s steadfast refusal to contemplate betraying her.

    ''I wonder if he ever showed it to her?'' Now that was a thought worth chuckling over.

    But between all the personal bits were the recipes Aytin had hoped for. At least, there were recipes written there. Some didn''t have any titles or were written in some sort of code. The rest ranged the gambit from situationally useful to frivolous garbage.

    A paste promised to leave scales shining for days, but the passage also mentioned that by swapping two ingredients it became an incredibly painful contact poison. Instructions for an energy draught had promise, but a couple of the ingredients were also listed as part of a concoction to remove fungus from around talons. He decided that risking it wouldn''t be the best idea.

    The rest ran a similar gauntlet, often also requiring ingredients he didn''t have. Frost powder from a white dragon, for example, or newly sprouted buds from a rose bush. And he didn''t even know what potash was.

    There wasn''t a single thing among any of it that looked like a way to stop the infection that was beginning to grow in his wings.

    And it was definitely growing. The tears were puffy and warm to the touch. Painful, too. More so than before. And the faint sickly sweet scent of a festering wound was beginning to grow stronger.

    He was paging past a rant about the nobility - a frequent target of Zan''s hate - when a line caught his eye. At first he thought it was the usual stream of consciousness notes about plans for revenge against everyone who had wronged him, but a name stood out.

    Killing them is easy. Poison. Water cistern protected, but not always the gutters. Do they check what''s past the first layers of soap? Contaminate utensils before a feast. But then they get smart. Get them to fight each other? Feuds? Ask Xana. She was one of them. She''ll know.

    That didn''t make sense. Not that most of Zan''s ramblings did, but it seemed like he was implying Xantha had some sort of inside knowledge about the nobility.

    Aytin couldn''t imagine a former huntress from the frontier would be aware of any noble intrigues. He himself only had the barest of understanding of how the prominent families felt towards his own family, which generally boiled down to apathy and disdain.

    ''But what was it she said when I first woke up? How one of her huntresses caught dad''s eye?'' He was still drugged and confused at the time, so he hadn''t realized the significance of Xantha''s words. ''Maybe she was exiled by her family. That would explain Zan''s comments and how much she hates nobility.''

    That was something to think about. Later. When he wasn''t searching for some way to keep alive the faint hope that he would fly again someday.

    His hope grew upon reading what was on the next page. It was enough to send him scampering down the tree to find his pack.

    Inside were dozens of little stoppered vials as well as a mortar and pestle and other implements of an apothecary. Aytin had packed them for just this opportunity.

    Only four were important to him at that moment. He mumbled to himself as he dug through the sack. "Two-talon fungus powder... there it is. Paleweed? Didn''t Zan mention that? White willow bark. Damn, not much left. But there''s plenty of frilled puckroot extract, at least."

    It was far from the same recipe that he remembered Zan using. But according to the barely legible notes, this one promised to improve healing speed and reduce scarring on wounds. More importantly, nothing in the next fifteen pages showed anything helpful. Everything else was blank. This was his best and only option.

    Nothing about the instructions were particularly complicated. He just had to grind the right proportions of white willow bark and paleweed, then add the two-talon fungus and finish with a few drops of the puckroot extract. Mix with an equal part water and apply directly to the wound.

    The problem was getting the proportions right. He didn''t have a scale and there wasn''t any way to compare a chunk of bark to a few strands of dried grass.

    Eventually, Aytin ground the two materials separately, then used a set of measuring spoons to get the right amounts. He winced when he realized the recipe had required nearly his entire supply of willow bark. But there wasn''t any helping it. He would just have to get it right the first time.

    Once all the grinding and mixing was done, Aytin was left with a paste that smelled like stale ale mixed with crushed grass and looked like thick, gray gruel. Hesitantly, he scooped up a glob with one finger.

    There had been a note that this stuff tended to cause discomfort upon application. The faint tingling where it touched his fingertip may or may not have been his imagination. Before he lost his nerve, Aytin touched the paste to the rip in his left wing.

    It stung horribly at first. Then the pain seemed to seep deeper and get worse. He had to wrap his hand around his own muzzle to keep from screaming while his tail thrashed back and forth as the agony peaked.

    Gradually, the pain subsided. Aytin gasped for air, panting as quietly as he could. Once he had control over his breathing again, he looked fearfully at his wing.

    From the pain, he had expected to see a patch of flesh seared away, like from a black dragon''s breath. Or even a spot of dark corruption. Instead, the bruising was noticeably reduced around the point where he had applied the concoction.

    With a trembling finger, he brushed the spot once again. It hurt, but not as much as he remembered. Maybe the nerves had been overloaded by the medicine, but Aytin hoped that it was actually a good sign.

    "Of course, I''m not done yet," he murmured, looking towards the remaining gray paste. That pain was a steep price to pay for keeping his wings.

    One that he was willing to pay.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    By the time it was over, Aytin was trembling like a leaf. Even the tips of his fingers were throbbed slightly. Whatever was in the medicine wasn''t friendly to unprotected flesh.

    But he thought the wings were looking better. A trickle of blue blood leaked from places, but the swelling might have gone down, just a little. And it might have just been that the treatment had burned away the nerves, but there wasn''t quite as much pain as before. However, it remained to be seen if it would be enough.

    Aytin looked up with a shuddering sigh and noticed that Faelon had his eyes open and was staring at him.

    "You found something?" he asked, surprisingly quietly for his size.

    In response, Aytin unfurled his wings to show the salve covered wounds.

    Faelon snaked his head forward and examined the gashes with a critical eye. When he sniffed them, he scrunched up his snout. It was such an incongruous look that Aytin had to choke back a laugh.

    That earned him a sharp look. But the dragon only said, "It seems no worse, at least."

    "Hopefully better than that with how much it hurt."

    "And is there any sign of our prey?"

    "Uhhhh..." The sun had moved noticeably since Aytin slid out of the tree and into the stream bed.

    He scampered out to the trunk of his chosen tree and up its trunk. Climbing wasn''t a skill creatures born with wings generally put much stock in, but sharp talons and a magically enhanced sense of balance did wonders to make up for lack of practice.

    Thankfully, it didn''t look like he had missed anything. The pile of apples was still undisturbed and there was nothing to be seen among the tall grass. It was almost disappointing.

    Except...

    It took a few seconds to realize what he was seeing. He had been looking for pigs; small, fast, and low to the ground. What he saw instead was none of these things. And when the scale registered, Aytin''s ears pricked straight up in surprise.

    The Luffin keep had a number of cows and oxen. What he was seeing now looked a bit like those farm animals. They had thick, dark pelts and a bovine shape at least.

    But they were three, maybe four times the size of the livestock from back home. Taller at the shoulder than almost any dragonette, and nearly as long as his wings were wide. And these had long, forward turned horns with wickedly sharp looking points.

    "Well?" Faelon hissed. He could see his companion''s surprise, but didn''t dare stick his head above the lip of the creek.

    "I... I''m not sure."

    The animals were in a line, moving slowly and deliberately up the game trail. The first paused and raised its head. For a moment, Aytin thought he had been spotted, but instead it just sniffed the air and let out a low bellow before resuming its plodding.

    Falon had no trouble hearing the noise. "What was that?"

    "Giant oxen?" Something jogged a memory. He recalled a story from one of the huntresses. "I think they''re tirox."

    There had only ever been a few on his home island, and he had never actually seen one. But the description fit.

    A shiver seemed to go through Faelon at the words, from the point of his snout to the tip of his tail. When it passed, the big dragon was as still as if he had been carved from a block of ruby.

    Aytin eased his way down from his perch and back into the depression, being careful to keep the trunk between himself and the herd.

    "Where are they?" the dragon demanded as soon as Aytin''s feet hit the ground.

    "Heading towards the bait. Eleven of them," he whispered once he was close. "But those things are so big that an arrow will just make them mad, and you dug the pits for something the size of a pig. I don''t-"

    "Tell me when they get there."

    "Alright," Aytin nodded, resignedly. "We''ll follow the plan. One of the smaller ones might get stuck and-"

    "No. The plan is changing." Faelon''s mouth cracked, exposing wicked fangs in a draconic smile. "Pigs are fast. Tirox aren''t. You tell me when they reach the bait, I will run one down."

    It made sense. The dragon outmassed the biggest of the herd by at least ten times. And they didn''t exactly look like they were made for speed.

    Aytin nodded and crept back up to his lookouts. Sure enough, the tirox were taking their sweet time, treading slowly up the path in single file.

    Minutes dragged by as they ambled along, occasionally stopping for a few mouthfuls of grass to chew but generally heading towards the ambush. From time to time the leader would raise its head to sniff the air, and then call out to the rest.

    It hadn''t been luck that kept the scent of a dragon out of the noses of those great beasts. The slopes of the depression muted the wind, and the mild breeze above didn''t so much as ruffle Faelon''s wings as he waited.

    When the path turned slightly, revealing the pile of apples in the middle of the trail, the lead tirox let out an excited bellow and picked up the pace.

    From this close, Aytin wasn''t sure one of his arrows'' iron points would even pierce the shaggy hides of these beasts. Maybe if he hit an eye or the neck, but he wasn''t that good of a shot.

    The front tirox reached the apples and started to dig in. It was quickly interrupted. Another butted it aside to get its own share of the bounty.

    The first was having none of it. He - at this point, its sex was very clear - squared up against the other male and let loose a titanic bellow. His opponent rose to the challenge with a bellow of his own, and then charged.

    Their wicked horns met with a crash as the pair fought for control over the prize.

    Aytin also figured that it would serve as a perfect distraction. He caught Faelon''s eyes and waved towards the herd.

    Originally, the plan had been to come out breathing fire and sending his prey running. But Faelon adapted quickly to the unexpected opportunity. Staying low and moving surprisingly quietly for such an enormous creature, the dragon stalked forward.

    Not that something that big could stay unnoticed for long. The grass only came up to Aytin''s chest and didn''t do anything to hide an adult dragon. But his approach bought Faelon a few seconds. It was enough to cover a third of the distance to the herd before the first tirox bellowed out an alarm.

    That was Faelon''s cue to start sprinting. Unfortunately, red dragons weren''t exactly built for speed.

    At least his crippled wing wasn''t dragging behind him. Between them, Aytin and Faelon had managed to rig up a makeshift sling of sorts. Really, it was just a few lengths of rope and scrap cloth; enough to secure the ruined limb to Faelon''s body while he moved.

    Regardless, he wasn''t exactly fast. And the tirox took advantage of that, forming together in a half circle to face the charging dragon.

    Faelon scrambled to backpedal as he was faced with what was for all intents and purposes a natural pike wall. There was no doubt that if he pressed the attack, the dragon would win the battle, but he would have to take his licks to do it.

    Having already lost the use of a wing, it was obvious Faelon wanted to avoid any serious injury. He darted in with his long neck, trying to reach above and behind the horns. No such luck. The tirox backpedaled and raised their heads, forcing Faelon to abort his attack once again or risk a facefull of horns.

    An arrow buried itself at the feet of the largest of the tirox. The beast didn''t even seem to notice as it shifted and crushed the shaft under a massive hoved foot.

    Aytin cursed as it disappeared into the tall grass. His arm ached from the effort of drawing the bow even halfway. It was a heavier weight then he was used to and his week in captivity had done him no favors. Worse, the miss had cost him one of his handful of arrows and didn''t have any way to make more.

    The herd continued backing away slowly, bellowing their anger at the progressively more and more frustrated dragon. Faelon took a swipe with one of his clawed forearms, more as a probe than any serious attack. It sent a couple of the tirox scrambling out of the way, but he just didn''t have the reach for an effective strike and his follow up bite was once again turned away by horns.

    Reaching a decision, he started to turn to bring his tail to bear. One strike had literally torn Juniper in half, and it would certainly do a number even on something as enormous as a tirox.

    But halfway through the turn, one of the ropes securing Faelon''s wing to his side slipped. The makeshift arrangement had never been meant to hold up to this sort of abuse, and his wing flopped to the ground.

    Faelon let out a hiss of frustration as it got underfoot. To make matters worse, the length of rope tangled in his foreleg. It was a matter of moments to shrug out of the remnants of the sling and regain his footing, but those were moments when the dragon''s attention was split.

    Sensing an opportunity, the bull took it. He charged forward, slamming into Faelon''s wounded left side. The dragon roared in pain, loud enough that Aytin nearly had to cover his ears. It sent the tirox back a step as well. But seeing a predator in distress, the rest of the herd ignored their discomfort and began to close in.

    Faelon never let them. His roar turned into a whoosh as fire exploded from the red dragon''s maw. The tone of the tirox''s cries turned to panic as the sky above them turned to flames and the heat singed their coats. Most stumbled backwards, and out of range of mutual support.

    Quick as a flash, Faelon cut the flames and snaked his head around. He locked his jaws around the neck of the tirox that had tried to gore him and shook.

    The snap of bones could be heard throughout the clearing, sending the rest of the herd scattering as the tirox''s cries of terror ceased with an abrupt finality. Faelon gave the suddenly limp body one more shake just to be sure, and then dropped the carcass to loose a victorious roar towards the sky above.

 Chapter 17: What Comes After

    Once it became clear that the dragon would be satisfied with a single one of their number, the remainder of the tirox herd retreated, lowing out their anger as they made their way back along the game trail. Aytin waited until the last of the massive beasts were well on their way before jogging over to Faelon.

    The red dragon was laying next to his kill, watching the rest of the tirox lope away while the tip of his tail curled protectively around the carcass.

    "Damn," Aytin muttered. It was almost a prayer of thanks to whatever god had decided to bless them. And then something occurred to them. In all the confusion, the scale of the task ahead of him had never registered. Until now.

    "Oh, damn."

    This time it was definitely a curse.

    Faelon looked down at him, one eye ridge raised in question.

    "I don''t suppose you''re any good with a knife, are you?"

    He raised a massive hand and wiggled the talons. "Not particularly. You''re the one with thumbs."

    "Then unless you want to eat this raw, I''m going to need to skin and dress the whole thing myself!"

    "Ah." Faelon bobbed his head, and then rose slightly to allow access to the carcass. As he did, Aytin caught a glimpse of his left side and winced.

    The tirox''s horn had gouged a long rip through his already mangled left wing. It ended at the innermost wing bone, and from the look of it the impact had been enough to break it. Splinters of white were visible underneath the trickle of blue blood.

    "Are you going to be alright?" Aytin asked, pointing to the wound.

    Faelon seemed confused before he followed the dragonette''s pointing finger. "I will live," he pronounced after a brief inspection. "Truth be told, I cannot feel much below the joint any longer."

    That sounded bad. Aytin wanted to say something, but he couldn''t figure out the right way to broach the subject. And Faelon didn''t seem eager to talk about his injuries

    Instead, he approached the dead tirox.

    The more he looked, the more daunting a task it seemed. The body was more than twice as long as he was tall, and when it was standing, the tips of his horns wouldn''t have even reached its shoulders.

    This was a job for an entire team of dragonettes.

    It was just after noon if the sun''s position was any judge. The nights weren''t anything like cold enough to keep the meat from turning, so unless he wanted to waste most of Faelon''s kill, he would have to prepare it today.

    Aytin looked between the knife he''d taken from Juniper''s corpse and the body. There were a few extra blades and a whetstone at the keep. He figured that he''d need them.

    "I need to get some things. Watch the meat?"

    Faelon nodded, once more curling protectively around his kill.

    It was thankfully a short hike up to the keep, and now that he was getting enough to eat the slope wasn''t any trouble for Aytin. In fact, he nearly ran up the hill.

    He returned just a few minutes later with the spare hunting knife, a short sword, ax, whetstone, and water bucket. He wasn''t quite sure what he would do with all of it, but that was every blade they had.

    The skinning was actually a straightforward affair, if slow. Aytin cut a bed of grass for Faleon to move the tirox onto, and then he started in on it just like he was dressing an antelope back home. Only this animal was twenty or thirty times bigger than any antelope he had ever seen.

    Faelon proved to be essential, moving the body around so Aytin could do his work. The dragon seemed positively eager to follow every instruction, hovering over his smaller companion as he worked. A little too closely, as they both discovered when something warm and wet fell on the back of Aytin''s neck.

    At first, he thought that some blood had splattered on him. After all, his arms were covered in the stuff up to his elbows. But when he tried to wipe it off, his hands came away covered in a clear slime.

    Aytin turned to see the dragon looming over him. "Sorry," Faelon muttered. He shook his head to dislodge the rest of the line of drool.

    "Hungry?"

    The dragon nodded, looking chagrined. Aytin had to laugh at the expression. A dragon that would fill half of the great hall back home was hovering over him like a hatchling watching a pie in the oven.

    Faelon even managed a laugh of his own; a short, deep rumble of amusement.

    "I guess the apples are already getting old?"

    The dragon dipped his head in acknowledgement. "They are better than starving, but even when I''m bloated with them I crave something more substantial."

    "Well," Aytin said, glancing at his progress and then the slowly descending sun. "If we''re lucky, I''ll be done by sunset." He wasn''t even sure of that, but at least he was pretty sure he could get a haunch roasting by then if it came to that.

    ''Speaking of which...''

    "Can you drag some dead trees over for a fire? And a few green ones for spits. I''ll call if I need you."

    Faelon''s tail nearly cracked like a whip with how fast he spun. There was definitely a slight gust of wind as his passage, and Aytin didn''t even bother to hide his grin. But he also got back to work himself. There was no sense in disappointing a hungry dragon.

    The tirox skin ended up being enormous. Easily as much as the huntresses would bring in from eight or ten antelope, and worth a pretty silver, even with the inexpert way it had been prepared.

    It was a pity that the sum total of Aytin''s knowledge about tanning came down to how bad it smelled.

    But they were after the meat, first and foremost, and thankfully the tirox wasn''t much different than any of the other carcasses he had helped butcher. Just a whole lot bigger.

    That did prove to be a problem when it came to the joints. It was nearly impossible to get a good angle on the shoulder to separate it.

    "Shhhhhh!"

    The hiss ripped through gritted teeth as Aytin lost his grip on the slick meat. He stood there, covered in blood and viscera, staring at the dinner that was taunting him even in death.

    "Is something wrong?" Faelon asked, having finished dragging several trees worth of dead wood into a pile. His tone made it clear that it wasn''t an idle question.

    Taking a deep breath, Aytin got his frustration under control. "Just trying to get this shoulder off. Maybe we can cook it with the shoulder on?" He looked dubiously at the carcass. Even dressed, it was enough to break a spit.

    His thoughts were interrupted by the big dragon stepping forward and gently nudging him back with a single claw. "Allow me." And then he dug the claw between the shoulder blade and neck, and tore the entire joint right off.

    Aytin blinked, stupidly. It wasn''t a clean cut by any means, but neither of them were particularly picky at the moment. "Uh, thanks," he managed to stammer out. "Do you think you can do that again?"

    "Just show me where."

    With the dragon helping to separate the shoulders and hams, things went faster than Aytin had hoped. The sun was still a hand''s breadth above the horizon when they managed to get the last haunch free.

    That still left the bulk of the body; the backstrap, ribs, loins, flanks, and everything in between. Gutting it had been an ordeal that required more dexterity than brute force, but Aytin had tackled that early on and Faelon had obligingly buried the offal where it wouldn''t attract predators.

    "Do you think we can roast it whole?"

    Faelon lifted his good wing slightly in a draconic shrug. "My crews rarely did such a thing. Never with something this large. Not that hunting tirox is practical for a crew of traders."

    "I''ve seen whole pigs cooked at feasts. It just takes a while. I guess it''s probably the same thing."

    "How long is a while? Is there a way to cook it faster?"

    "Errr... they spit the pig in the morning and it''s ready for dinner. So at least that long."

    Faelon took the information as well as a house-sized carnivore subsisting on unripe fruit could. As funny as it was seeing a dragon visibly deflate, Aytin owed him too much to lead him along.

    "Don''t forget about the haunches. Once we get them over the fire, they should only take a few hours to-"

    Before Aytin could say another word, the dragon had snapped his head over to stare at the pile of firewood. A moment later, he was on his feet, nearly sprinting the short distance towards it.

    "Faelon, wait!"

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    It was too late. With a whoosh, the red dragon bathed the wood in flames. It was all good, dry timber and the pile instantly went up in a column of fire.

    The heat was so intense that Aytin had to keep Faelon between him and the bonfire. For his part, the red dragon seemed unbothered by the intense heat. He just sat there, looking expectantly towards his companion.

    Finally noticing the sour expression on Aytin''s face, he cocked his head in silent question.

    "It''s... a little too big. That fire will just char the meat," he explained.

    "Is that all?"

    With a nonchalant motion, Faelon swiped a taloned hand through the fire, knocking several burning logs aside. A few more bats and a much smaller, more manageable fire was crackling away nearby. Then he turned to look at Aytin once more.

    "That''s... better."

    But Aytin wasn''t thinking about the cookfire anymore. His mind was back to that first night on the island. When Xantha had reached into the fire to grab the glowing knife handle, before plunging it into his wings.

    He shivered, the motion going from his ears and crooked horn to the tip of his tail. That particular memory was one he would be happy to do without.

    The thump of Faelon''s tail tapping his impatience brought Aytin back to the present. Really, it was more slamming the ground than tapping, but with dragons everything was relative.

    "Yeah, that''s much better," he said, recovering. The heat was also getting more tolerable as the bonfire quickly consumed itself. "Come on, help me with the haunches. By the time we have them cooking, those coals should be perfect for the rest."

    Setting up spits for the smaller cuts was easy enough. The brigands had even had a small pot of salt. Aytin sprinkled most of it over the best of the haunches, and then dusted the others with what was left.

    Had there been more, he would have considered using it to preserve some of the meat, but at most there was enough to keep a meal or two from spoiling. Seasoning their first real meat in what felt like forever seemed like a much more appropriate use for it.

    Each haunch weighed more than an entire antelope. It took some serious effort, but the two managed to get them all on spits above the fire. After some consideration, Aytin had butterflied one of them, just so it would cook faster.

    That left the rather daunting task of preparing the remainder of the tirox.

    "Can''t you spit it like the rest?"

    Aytin ruffled his wings and dipped his ears in a shrug. "Sure. But if we shove a tree trunk through it - because that''s what it will take to hold it - then what?"

    He glanced towards the smaller of the cookfires, where the spits sat on roughly crossed branches that Faelon had driven deep into the ground. It would take more than that to support the rest of the kill.

    "We don''t have anything to support it. And we can''t just drop it on the coals," he continued.

    "What can we do, then?"

    "Huh?"

    Frankly, Aytin was exhausted. He''d been up since sunrise, and even if the morning had been uneventful, the afternoon had made up for it. His scales were covered in blood and other slowly drying fluids, and despite the fires the evening chill was starting to get to him.

    So it took him a few moments to process Faelon''s words.

    "We are not wasting the meat." The red dragon said it like a pronouncement from the gods. Which, for all intents and purposes, it was.

    "I wasn''t planning on it," Aytin said, mind still trying to catch up.

    "Then that is the only thing we cannot do," he explained slowly, although not unkindly. "Do not focus on the problems. Focus on how to solve them. What can we do?"

    Almost, Aytin wanted to shout at the dragon. It wasn''t like he was helping to figure out how to cook something bigger than an oxen without even an oven.

    But he took a breath. Faelon''s words echoed ones his mother had once said to him, years ago. "In a council, never be the one to say no."

    Of course, as a Lady, she had to say no regularly. She had to say it to those she ruled, to her peers, and even to more important nobles on occasion. But rarely did she do so without an alternative already on the tip of her tongue.

    So Aytin took a few moments to think. And to his surprise, he came up with something.

    "I guess we could eat it raw," he ventured.

    "I could." The dragon''s reluctance showed through in just those two words. "Could you?"

    "Maybe. Then again, I''d like to keep my guts where they belong."

    "It is also far from cold enough to preserve the meat raw."

    Aytin had never imagined living anywhere that would be possible. He had never even seen snow, although he had heard of the nasty white stuff. The idea of being able to simply leave meat outdoors was simply insane. So he kept thinking.

    "I''ve heard of dragonettes wrapping meat in leaves, putting it at the bottom of a pit, and burying it in coals."

    Faelon just nodded. He had to know wrapping the tirox would take well into the night, even if they had the sort of broad leaves they needed. Which they didn''t. But true to his advice, he never said a word against the idea, and Aytin continued.

    "We don''t have everything we need to do that, but you can dig a pit. And then we rest the ends of three or four spits on the edge of the pit. You can flip it when one side gets too hot."

    "A good plan," Faelon agreed. He rose and stretched slightly before padding towards the remains of the bonfire.

    All in all, it ended up working fairly well. While Aytin used the ax to put rough points on several thick branches, Faelon dug a long, shallow pit. He filled it with the coals, along with some fresh firewood. Then while the coals were settling, he spitted the tirox, shoving a pair of massive skewers through its length and three across.

    When he flipped the whole thing so it rested above the pit, the sound and smell of sizzling meat set them both drooling.

    "The fire might be a little hot," Aytin said, wiping his mouth with one hand. "You''ll need to flip it soon."

    "I can do that."

    Soon was still relative with that much meat. And the autumn chill was setting in as the last rays of sunshine started to fade.

    A convenient rock sat nearby the smaller cookfire. Aytin wandered over to it and sat down, with Faelon following behind.

    They sat there, not saying anything, just staring into the flames. Well, one of them was. Faelon''s tail tip flicked back and forth in time with the sound of drippings sizzling on the coals.

    Every once in a while, Aytin would stand and prod the roasting meat with a knife. Sometimes he would flip the piece over. Faelon had to help with that. But it didn''t require more than a few words, and then it was back to silence.

    Soon the sun was long gone, replaced by a half moon high in the sky. Only the heat from the fire kept Aytin awake. That, and the smell of the cooking meat.

    He held up a finger and surreptitiously licked the juices from it. He instantly regretted it. The salty, meaty flavor only made his stomach gurgle in protest. It had been hours since he last ate, and that had only been a few apples.

    From the distance, a wolf howled. It was quickly joined by the other members of the pack, raising their voices to the rising moon. They were distant, but it was an unfamiliar sound, and that made it all the more discomforting.

    They didn''t have wolves in the south. They had other predators to deal with. The odd bug that made its way north. Scavengers like coyotes. And he never wanted to meet a Glasmole in the scales.

    The six-legged, fire breathing beasts made their homes in the dryer, sandy parts of the island. If they caught a dragonette around their fused glass burrows or water pools, they wouldn''t hesitate to make a snack out of them.

    Wolves, though, were new to Aytin. He had heard stories about the beasts. How they came up to a dragonette''s chest and hunted in packs that moved silently through the night. Worse, there would be no escape for him. Not with his wings in the state that they were.

    A fresh round of howls sent a shiver down his neck. But the sound of Faelon shifting nearby kept it from going any further.

    ''Anything stupid enough to attack a dragon deserves what''s coming to it,'' he told himself.

    With that thought in mind, Aytin stood and checked on the butterflied haunch. Without sunlight, it was hard to tell how done the meat was. At this point, he decided that he didn''t care enough to be picky.

    "Will you give me a hand with this, Faelon? I think it''s ready."

    "Of course!" The dragon nearly jumped to help, actually breaking the spit in a rush to get the meat off from over the coals. He did, at least, wait for Aytin to pull out the remains of the wooden support and cut his own chunk before noisily digging in.

    It was far from the best thing Aytin had eaten. Even when flying with Reed, Voxin made sure their meat was well prepared. A little salt and woodsmoke didn''t compare to what she could put together. The charred exterior and slightly undercooked center didn''t help, nor was it a particularly tender cut. He had to work to chew the first bite before swallowing.

    None of that stopped him from going back for another bite. And another.

    This was meat. Fresh and hot and juicy. It wasn''t like dragonettes had the mouths of some grazing animal. They had a set of razor sharp teeth for a reason. And after almost a week and a half of subsisting on whatever scraps that Nyx and the rest of the brigands threw his way, the tough shank might as well have been an expertly prepared tenderloin as he ripped into it.

    And from the sounds Faelon was making, the dragon felt exactly the same way.

    Neither of them spared a moment for other thoughts as they packed away mouthful after mouthful of the meat. As it dwindled, Aytin began to wish he had taken a bigger share. It had looked like so much when he cut it off, but he was quickly running out of anything but gristle.

    A sudden snapping sound jerked his head up, only to find Faelon had finished stripping the bone of meat and proceeded to crack it in half. Noticing the dragonette''s gaze, he motioned slightly.

    Taking that for an invitation, Aytin retrieved a length of femur longer than his hand and glistening with golden marrow. It was rich with salty fat, and absolutely delicious. He scooped up every bit of the marrow and then licked the bone clean.

    Sated in a way he couldn''t remember being in a very long time, Aytin leaned back against a rock. As he enjoyed the heat from the fire and the feeling of a belly full of meat, he looked up at the stars.

    It was something he hadn''t done since the night before his capture. The gods had felt so far away after that. Now, though, with his immediate future secure and the comforting bulk of Faelon settling next to him, he didn''t feel quite so abandoned.

    `Thank you Naulk, for the gift of this food,'' he prayed to the god of the hunt, eyes drawn to one of the shining gates in the sky. ''I hope that- No. I know that we will make good use of it.''

    He thought about his family. It wouldn''t be long until they learned of his capture. Less than a week. His siblings would have it the worst. Zara had been involved with the decision to send him to the capital. That would eat her up. Stonar would blame himself for not training him more. He''d never been close to Suuie, but he knew she cared in her own way.

    And Lin.

    ''Itova, please be with Lin when she gets the news. Don''t let her come after me or fight Xantha or anything. Keep her safe.''

    Aytin had never been particularly devout. He never memorized every prayer or all the subdomains of the gods. But there were two more he knew for certain deserved his thanks.

    ''Tula, god of retribution. Norik, god of Justice. I imagine that the two of you had a hand in Faelon''s survival. So for that, I thank you both. And... I hope it''s not the end of your plans for Xantha''s band.

    ''They haven''t answered for what they did to him. To Reed and Bush. To Vin and Voxin and all the rest. And for what they are going to try and do to my family. For all of that, well, I pray for your help.''

    With his prayer complete, Aytin''s eyes slipped shut, and exhaustion finally claimed him as he drifted off to sleep.

 Interlude 3: The Message

    It was hard to beat early autumn weather in the south.

    Summer could get oppressively hot, even for the cold-blooded dragonettes. Sometimes it could get so bad that patrolling huntresses had to stop two or three times an hour to seek shade and douse themselves with water.

    It was better than living up north where winters got so cold that entire keeps had to hibernate or freeze to death. What the dragonettes who made their homes in more temperate climates didn''t seem to understand was that the heat of midsummer could be just as brutal in its own way as the deepest winter.

    But fall? Things were so nice in the fall. The warmth was energizing, not overwhelming. Erdalin - or Lin as she preferred - sighed contentedly as she spiraled up a thermal.

    That was another great thing about this time of year. Now that things weren''t so uniformly hot, there were thermals again. It was nice to be able to just extend her wings and relax as nature did most of the work for her.

    "You look like you''re having fun!"

    Her huntring partner, Tahni, descended until she was just far enough away that they didn''t interfere with each other''s air.

    "It''s a whole lot better now than last week. I''m sick and tired of all that wind."

    "I won''t argue about that. It does feel nice to be in the air again."

    The downside of the season was the occasional windstorm that blew through the region. Days and occasionally weeks passed where a dragonette taking to the skies would also be taking their life into their hands. Turbulent gusts were known to overwhelm even strong fliers, so most of the Luffin Keep''s residents stayed firmly grounded for as long as the storms lasted.

    "How long do you think until the next one?"

    "Hmmm..."

    Of the pair, Tahni was older by far. In fact, she was a gilded huntress. Lin was still a greenhorn, and she was on the young side for even that.

    Some people thought her advancement was due to being a member of the keep''s nobility. And there might be something to that. But none of those doubters were huntresses. No huntress in the Luffin Keep would have tolerated dead weight among their ranks, nobly born or otherwise.

    "I think," Tahni continued, after some consideration, "that we should have at least a week of good weather. And at least a few days of fair flying after that before it takes a turn for the worse."

    "And you''re sure that you can''t sense the weather?"

    That earned her a thin smile. "Very sure. I just know how to pay attention."

    In fact, Lin knew very well that the gilded huntress''s magical talent lay in other things. Specifically, the ability to feel things moving around her. From air currents to burrowing creatures, if it was within a few wingspans, Tahni could sense it. But that just made her knack for predicting the weather so much more impressive.

    The young dragonette''s thoughts took on a tinge of wistfulness. She hoped that her talent would be as useful as her partner''s. But whatever her magic was, it hadn''t yet made itself known.

    It wasn''t like she was late on that particular front. Not many dragonettes knew their power at her age. Her brother Stonar had been one of the few that could claim that honor. His enhanced physical strength and speed had manifested at fourteen, and she was only a year older than that.

    Hells, Tintin was two years older than she was, and he hadn''t managed to figure out his ability yet. Lin knew deep down that there was no way that he was a blank. He only needed time. Just like her.

    ''Who knows. Maybe he''s figured it out by now. He''s been gone for almost two months, after all.''

    "Do you see anything?"

    Lin winced. She had gotten lost in thought and almost forgotten what she was here for. Today, they were mainly looking to bring home meat for the kitchens. It took a lot to satisfy Luffin Keep''s large population, and after a week grounded by the winds they were starting to have to fall back on preserved stocks. There were always cattle, but they needed another month or two of fattening before the slaughter.

    A herd of antelope would be ideal. Or whitetail deer, if they could find them. And a flock of migrating birds wouldn''t be amiss, although it was very early in the season for them.

    Not that prey was the only thing to watch for.

    Huntresses were the keep''s first line of defense. They kept an eye out for signs of brigands, darklings, or other creatures of the dark in the surrounding area, although such incursions were rare near a long established keep like theirs.

    More recently, they had other duties as well. Mainly, searching for anything to help make up for their copper mine''s lagging production.

    The exact state of the mine wasn''t widely known. No doubt the mine workers had their suspicions, but they were mostly criminals working off their crimes. Careful juggling of schedules meant that none of the current laborers would be finishing their sentences until late the following year. The supervisors and engineers were all either born in the keep or had lived there long enough to be trusted with the secret.

    Of course, all of the new fields and expansion projects had residents curious, but they had been explained away as diversification. Something to fall back on if the mines ever ran out or the price of metals took a sharp downturn. There was plenty of copper in the warehouses, so miners were being temporarily redirected to the new projects while they shipped out the surpluses. That was how the entire project was being spun, anyway.

    It wasn''t even a lie. Lady Norvinia Luffin made certain to never lie. Not to her people, and especially not about something guaranteed to soon become public knowledge.

    The secrecy didn''t need to last long. Hopefully they had at least a year before the true state of the mines leaked out, and maybe another before it became widely known. But for now, only a select few knew the details: The Lord and Lady, their advisors, some of the more prominent residents, and the senior huntresses.

    As part of the keep''s ruling family, Lin was the only greenhorn huntress who knew the reason for the odd orders. Like why they were being ordered to deliver samples of rocks from across the island to the mining engineers or investigate every little stand of trees within a day''s flight.

    Those efforts had mostly wrapped up. She had heard of a few promising leads, but no details. And the farming projects were nearing harvest. A few of the crops appeared to grow well in the plains surrounding the isolated hill where Luffin Keep sat. There had been doubts that they could survive the long, dry summers without a massive irrigation project, but a handful of the hardiest crops appeared to relish the environment.

    Enough projects were bearing fruit that no one doubted that keep could transition to a new income source once the mines ran dry. Provided they had the time to get fully established.

    For now, Lin forced thoughts of the distant future out of her mind. Instead, she focused on searching for dinner.

    Unfortunately, it appeared the herds were elsewhere today.

    "I don''t see anything," Lin said after a good minute of scanning. "There''s the watering hole to the east. Maybe we should check there?"

    "Lead on, then."

    Lin gave the other dragonette a look, but only received a level gaze in return. She sighed, but turned slightly and angled for the watering hole.

    Tahni did this sort of thing from time to time, especially with newer huntresses. It hadn''t been that long ago when Lin found herself suddenly in charge of a hunt.

    She''d screwed up, of course. They''d returned to the keep hungry, tired, and sore. The ribbing that she had gotten from the other huntresses hadn''t been entirely good-natured, either.

    She had done better after that. It helped that all of the huntresses had gone through something similar, with most completely botching their first hunts. Some rather spectacularly. More than a few were willing to give advice once the first try was out of the way.

    The next time her turn had come around, Lin had been more prepared. It hadn''t exactly gone smoothly. They had flown further than they needed to and she had somehow forgotten the antlers from one of their kills. But they had made it back in the early afternoon with the meat from a pair of young antelope, so that qualified as a success.

    Things had continued to improve from there as the young huntress learned. She wasn''t particularly nervous today. She knew of two other good hunting grounds within a short flight, and a few marginal ones after that. If none of those worked out, well, she didn''t think Tahni would blame her for coming up empty handed.

    The watering hole certainly looked deserted as it came into view. That was a little unusual. It was fed by a small spring, which made it the only consistent source of water in the area. There was almost always at least something there.

    Lin frowned down at the empty bank from high above.''Maybe a predator just came through. That would clear things out.''

    Movement drew her attention. The form of an antelope emerged from the tall grass. Male, from the size of its horns. It warily looked left and right for threats. Herd animals rarely looked up, though, something that Lin was grateful for.

    She pointed it out to Tahni. Of course, the other huntress had already noticed the animal, but she nodded, and the pair banked to circle around it and wait.

    Nothing else emerged. The buck didn''t have the look of a herd leader, anyway. Young and not particularly large. Probably driven off once it grew to be an adult. It hadn''t yet managed to establish its own herd.

    Once again, Lin looked to the more senior huntress, but Tahni just returned her gaze.

    At least it wasn''t a hard decision to make. Lin unslung her bow, and selected an arrow as she began to descend. Once she was low enough, she angled into a dive.

    The antelope never knew what hit it. One moment it was drinking from the muddy pond, the next an iron tipped arrow punched into its back.

    It managed a reflexive leap so high that it only missed Lin by a wingspan. Then it landed and collapsed into a boneless heap.

    "Good work," Tahni complimented as they both landed and Lin checked to make sure her prey was dead. It was, or near enough. The shot had been perfect, slipping past the ribs and punching through a lung and into the heart.

    There were a few small trees scattered around. They were thorny and never grew large enough to be useful for anything except some rather smoky firewood.

    Lin selected one of these and threw a rope around the thickest branch she could find. Tying one end to her kill''s rear legs, the pair lifted it into the air. After making sure the antelope was secure, the young huntress made a quick incision with her knife and a stream of blood came spilling out of the wound. They weren''t in a rush, and bleeding now would help the meat''s flavor and make butchering that much cleaner.

    It also left them time for a short break. Lin eyed the murky pond water skeptically and decided that she wasn''t hot enough to need a dip.

    The two shrugged out of their packs and settled down on a patch of hard ground. Tahni hunted through her gear for a few moments before making a pleased sound as she withdrew a canteen. After taking a swig, she offered it to Lin.

    Expecting water, she was pleasantly surprised to taste ale. Not a particularly strong brew, but the flavor wasn''t one she recognized. Well, not exactly. There was something familiar about it.

    "It''s a recipe Tavot''s been working on," Tahni answered the unasked question. "He gives me samples of his brews."

    Lin took one more sip and then passed the container back with a contented sigh. "Well, you can tell him that this one is pretty good. What''s in it?"

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    "I''ll pass it along," she said with a small smile. "He mixed one of the new grains they''re harvesting with a touch of needlefruit syrup."

    "Really?" The young huntress couldn''t help but crack a tiny smile as the name and taste triggered an old memory. A time when a very young Lin had stolen a bottle of needlefruit syrup and shared it with Tintin. And when they had been discovered, her brother had covered for her.

    "His job in the carpentry shop keeps him busy, but Tav is getting really excited about this," Tahni continued, oblivious to her charge''s thoughts. "He says that if next year''s crop is any good, then he should be able to make enough for all of the major feasts. Maybe even sell some, if he can find a steady supply of wood for barrels."

    "Well, good for him," Lin said, and made a mental note to mention it to her mother. She probably already knew, but it wouldn''t hurt to make sure. None of the surrounding islands had much in the way of breweries so it was one more potential export to investigate.

    They sat there for a few minutes, passing the drink back and forth as they rested. A quick glance to the antelope showed blood still occasionally dripping from its neck. There wasn''t any rush, so Lin didn''t feel any need to get on with the butchering just yet.

    "Do you see that?"

    Lin blinked and looked to the other huntress, before following her pointing finger. She squinted, then grunted. "Smoke?" A moment later she blinked. "Lots of smoke."

    Tahni was already rising, grabbing her pack. "You remember what''s in that direction?"

    "Oh. Oh!" Lin scrambled up, reaching for her own gear.

    Their island didn''t have much in the way of usable timber. The winds and the hot, dry climate were hard on them. But there were a few groves, carefully tended and harvested sparingly.

    The smoke was coming from one of those.

    ''If it burns...'' Lin didn''t let the thought finish. She wouldn''t let that happen. They were close, and there wasn''t nearly enough smoke for the whole thing to have caught. Maybe a tree or two. Or some brush. If they were fast, they could save it.

    How a fire had started was a mystery. A wind-blown dragon crew was a possibility. Glassmoles didn''t usually leave the sandy stretch on the far side of the island, but it was vaguely possible that one of the sand drakes had gotten utterly lost and set a blaze with its fiery breath. She doubted it was anyone from the keep, but it was still a possibility.

    ''Fire first, questions later.''

    The good news was that for all the smoke, it wasn''t all that spread out. In fact, it seemed to be concentrated into a single dense column.

    When they arrived after just a few minutes of hard flying, they found that the grove was safe. The smoke was all coming from a large fire pit situated well away from the trees, and loaded with enough green wood and leaves that the smoke had to be visible from the keep itself.

    "I wonder who started it?" Lin asked rhetorically as they circled in for a landing. Without new fuel, the fire was already starting to die down. There wasn''t any danger to the trees or the grasslands beyond. Whoever had set it had cleared the ground for a couple of wingspans in all directions.

    A drag mark leading to a fresh stump made the source of the fuel clear. Given the scarcity of wood in the area, that was a serious crime on its own. One that someone would need to answer for.

    "I don''t know," Tahni replied. "But we need to find out."

    Someone had dug a long, shallow trench to the fire pit. It was easy to see from the air, and Lin landed beside it.

    The trench was full of gray ash. Gingerly, she prodded the far end, exposing a few embers. But for the most part, it was barely warm. The makeshift fuse had been set much earlier in the morning.

    A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Is this a trap?" Without waiting for a response, Lin unslung her bow and started scanning the trees, then the surrounding grass. It was tall enough in places for any number of unseen attackers to wait in ambush.

    Tahni didn''t bother with her own weapon. "I''d say that someone wanted us here, that''s for sure. But if they wanted us dead, they would have sprung an ambush as soon as we arrived. Besides," she pointed to the line of ash. "They wouldn''t have bothered with this if they were going to stick around."

    That made sense, and Lin nodded slowly as she lowered her bow. But it didn''t answer the biggest question.

    ''Why?''

    A distraction for an attack on the keep? The fire would have been visible from there. No doubt more huntresses would be arriving any minute. But such an obvious distraction would only put everyone who remained on alert.

    Little else made sense, though, which meant they were missing something.

    By unspoken agreement, the pair remained near one another as they examined the area. The whole setup was unnerving, and Lin couldn''t help but feel like someone was lining up an arrow on her back. Once she even spun around, sure that she was going to spot a shadowy figure. There was nothing but waving grass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see.

    Their examination turned up plenty of tracks. Several dragonettes, judging by the different sizes of prints. At least one dragon, too. Not an enormous one, but the massive four-toed depressions were unmistakable.

    A trader might have set a signal fire, if they were in trouble. Serious injuries or attacks weren''t unheard of, and the strong winds might have led to a hard landing. It still didn''t fit.

    Lin''s examinations brought her towards the trees, and something caught her eyes. A wooden box sat on top of the raw stump. As she approached, she saw that it was the size of a small book. It looked hastily made. The wooden slats were roughly cut and unpainted.

    "Don''t touch that," Tahni warned, and Lin flicked her ears in annoyance.

    "Do I look like a hatchling?"

    "Some days I wonder. Now step back."

    The senior huntress extended her bow in one hand and used the far end to flick the box off its resting place. She immediately jumped back, but her caution proved unnecessary. There were no explosions or curses. Not even any noise other than the dull thump of the wood hitting hard packed ground.

    "I think it''s a note," Tahni said after a moment''s consideration.

    "A note?"

    "Paper has a certain feel to my magic. Paper or maybe cloth," Tahni explained as she gingerly approached the box once more. A moment later, she smiled self-deprecatingly. "You can also see it now that the top has fallen off."

    She picked up the slip of paper and the scrap of torn cloth next to it.

    Wanting to feel useful, Lin examined the remains of the box. A quick glance confirmed its poor quality. The fitting was nonexistent and whoever made it had used some sort of glue to hold the pieces together, instead of pegs or joints. Some of her younger siblings could do better than this.

    "So, is this asshole''s handwriting better than her carpentry?" she joked.

    But Tahni didn''t answer. Her ears were pinned back and her entire body still as she read the note with wide eyes.

    "Hey, Tahni?" Lin asked, an ominous feeling beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach. "What¡­ What does it say?"

    When her partner didn''t answer, Lin reached over to touch her on the arm. The other dragonette jerked like she''d just been prodded with a red hot iron.

    For the first time in the young huntress''s memory, Tahni looked unsure. She kept flicking her gaze between Lin, the note, and back to Lin. "It... Your... I don''t think..."

    She stopped and took a deep breath. But a flutter of wings interrupted whatever she planned to do next.

    Four huntresses landed in quick succession, led by Nista. Not bothering with any greeting, she strode straight up to the silvered huntress leading the other group.

    "Tahni, we saw the smoke from the keep. Can you tell us what''s going on here?"

    "Get some altitude. Now." Tahni''s words were hard, but they had a rasp to them that took the newcomers aback. Like the scrape of rusty steel on stone. "Look for whoever did this. Stay in pairs."

    The other huntresses looked at each other, but Tahni was senior and the first one on the scene.

    "Can you give us some idea of what to look for? And where?" one of them asked.

    "Fly north and west, away from the keep," was the answer. "I don''t know who they are or how many, but... they have a dragon." She pointed to the tracks in the clearing.

    "If they have a dragon, they''re long gone. We didn''t see anyone coming in."

    "Search anyway!" Tahni shouted and the questioner actually took a step back, her ears flattened in shock.

    Without bothering to wait for a reply, the gilded huntress got a running start and leapt up into the sky. After only the briefest hesitation, Lin followed.

    ''She told us to stay in pairs, after all.''

    And something about how the other huntress had looked at her... the thought sent a shiver down her wings even as she beat them hard to gain altitude and turned back for the keep.

    Whatever was in that note couldn''t be good. Anyone willing to risk a wildfire to deliver it couldn''t have the keep''s best interests in mind. But then why had Tahni been so unwilling to discuss its contents?

    ''Blackmail. That has to be it. Someone figured out the mines are nearly exhausted. But...''

    But any huntress hearing about an attempt to threaten the keep would have been furious, even if she didn''t already know the truth. There had even been discussions on what to do in exactly this eventuality.

    So why had Tahni looked like her first born hatchling had been corrupted? And why had she given Lin that look?

    The gilded huntress never even bothered to look back, and her pace made any conversation impossible. Lin was gasping for breath less than halfway back to the keep, and beginning to wish that she had dumped her pack back at the fire.

    There was no point turning around, now. It would still be there when she went back. If she went back.

    It would have been a grueling pace for a fresh and well rested huntress. Tired as she was, Lin found herself falling further and further behind. She made a flight that should have taken her half an hour in a bare twenty minutes, and her partner had already disappeared inside of the keep by the time she landed at the main entrance.

    "Are you alright?"

    The young huntress couldn''t recognize the speaker through her darkening vision. But he brought a cup of cool water and Lin took a huge gulp. Rivulets escaped through the corners of her mouth, and she only added to the mess when she splashed the remainder over her head and wings.

    She had come a membrane''s breadth from overheating during the flight. Another minute or two at that pace would have seen her falling out of the sky.

    Having narrowly avoided passing out from heat exhaustion, Lin finally recognized the male. "Thanks, Tav," she panted. Then, in a tone that sounded far too plaintive for her liking, she asked, "Is there more?"

    He nodded. "Yeah, plenty. You look like you need it even more than Tahni did." He offered a bucket, and Lin accepted it gratefully.

    "Where did your mate go?" she asked between gulps.

    "Your mother''s study. Do..." He hesitated before pressing on. "Do you know what''s going on?"

    "No, but I''m going to find out."

    About two-thirds of the bucket''s contents remained. Lin dumped it over her head, before passing it back to Tavot. Her legs didn''t want to move, but she forced them anyway.

    Thankfully, there was only one flight of stairs between the main entrance and Lady Luffin''s study. Any more would have proved an insurmountable challenge for the exhausted dragonette. Even during the worst of her training, she had never felt this spent.

    The ornate wooden door to her mother''s study was closed. Normally, Lin wouldn''t dream of intruding. This time, she pushed straight through.

    Tahni was there, slumped in a padded chair. Her duty completed, the huntress had apparently collapsed.

    But the Lady Luffin...

    Lin''s mother always took a hands-on approach to running her keep. Her responsibilities left her busy day in and day out, but she never let that prevent her from spending what little free time she had with her children.

    Most of them, at least. Tintin had been an exception there. They never had the best of relationships, and his sister had her suspicions of why.

    Unlike her brother, Lin had seen her mother often growing up. She had seen her in moods ranging from depressed to ecstatic. Tired to manic. Confident to frustrated.

    But in all that time, she had never seen her... defeated.

    "Mom...?"

    Lady Luffin barely looked up from the note on her desk. Her ears drooped and she looked like she had aged decades since breakfast that morning. She was drained. Even the blue of her horns seemed dull.

    It was the pain, the pure undiluted anguish in her eyes that did it. And that, above all else, terrified Lin.

    "Erdalin..."

    The rasping croak that came out of her mother''s throat made Lin flinch. It was more like a noise she imagined a darkling would make than the sound of the first voice she could ever remember hearing.

    "Erdalin," Norvinia repeated. The effort she was putting into those words made Lin''s recent flight look like a leisurely glide. "Your... it''s your brother..."

    "Tin?" It was barely a whisper.

    Her mother nodded, and then pushed the note across the desk before turning away.

    Lin knew that she didn''t want to see what was on that piece of paper. Just like she knew she had to read it anyway.

    She could never remember crossing the space to her mother''s desk, nor how the note got into her hands. She did remember the words.

    ...killed Trader Reed and her crew...

    ...have Aytin, son of...

    ...blood as proof...

    ...ransom of three hundred gold...

    ...your reply in three days...

    "We can''t pay it."

    After finishing the note, Lin felt numb. Nothing had sunk in yet. It was like she was coasting on the winds just ahead of an enormous thunderstorm. One strong enough to scour the land free from grass and trees and whatever insignificant buildings dragonettes had foolishly erected in its path.

    "I''ll... we..." Norvinia was trying desperately to hold back tears. She had already been swept away by the grief. "We have... reserves..."

    Not enough. Everyone knew that. The demand was insane. No one save for the richest of the capital''s noble families had that sort of money laying around.

    "They might accept less," Lin offered. She could feel the emotions welling within her now. Threatening to break through the wall she had built. "Or set a trap. Send the guard after them."

    But they would be lucky to scrape together a fifth of the demand. And the note said that Tintin was days away, hidden.

    One look at her mother told her that she knew the truth. That short of the gods themselves stepping in, her brother Aytin was well and truly dead.

    The storm hit. And Lin''s world went black.

 Chapter 18: Anything For A Friend

    Aytin awoke to the sun already high in the sky.

    It was late morning, still slightly on the cool side. The temperature probably contributed to how long he had slept.

    The young dragonette stretched, extending his arms and wings to work the kinks out. Grass and rocks didn''t exactly make for the most comfortable sleeping arrangements.

    But he was delighted to find that however painful the medicine had been, it seemed to have worked. The swelling around both gashes had reduced significantly, and the pain had lessened. Hopefully, that meant the healing could finally begin in earnest.

    Faelon''s deep, regular breathing revealed the dragon was still asleep. He had curled up nose to tail, with his right wing spread over him like a massive blanket. Every so often, one of his ear tips twitched slightly in response to some distant noise.

    Up above, clouds drifted overhead. Big puffy ones. Aytin was tempted to just lean back and watch them. The previous night had left him sated in a way he couldn''t remember feeling. And there wasn''t anyone to order him around. No threats of violence if he refused to carry out some menial chore.

    It was the sight of a number of circling birds that eventually got him moving. Vultures.

    "Oh, shit."

    The cookfires had long since burned to ash. But the meat hanging above them had been left unattended for hours.

    ''If it''s ruined, Faelon will throw me off the side of the island.''

    Thankfully, the tirox wasn''t ruined. Slightly charred on one side and far from delicious, but the strip Aytin cut off one of the haunches was edible, at least. It was a bit dry and very chewy, almost like a soft jerky. And the smoky flavor wasn''t bad. At the very least, it would keep for a while. That was definitely something going for it.

    But if the scavengers orbiting above were any indication, they would need to get it under cover, and soon.

    "Hey, Faelon! Good morning!"

    The dragon woke with a jerk, eyes snapping open. They seemed unfocused for a few moments, but then they landed on Aytin, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

    "It certainly is." Faelon sounded almost happy. Certainly content. A full meal had done wonders for the dragon.

    "Are you up for a little work? I think we need to get our food into the keep and under cover before something gets any ideas."

    "That is a fair point," Faelon agreed. He, too, could see the circling vultures. "But first, I will break my fast. I''d rather carry it up the hill in my belly than on my back."

    Aytin could still feel his comparatively tiny meal sitting in his gut. "You''re still hungry after last night?"

    "Yessss..." Faelon replied with a long hiss.

    Aytin shrugged. There was a big difference between a week of short rations and nothing at all. Some of Faelon''s ribs were even now still visible. "How much do you want?"

    "Half of one of those haunches should do nicely."

    The haunch in question weighed nearly as much as Aytin. It took Falon''s help to get it off the spit and onto some clean grass.

    Right about then, a carving knife would have been nice. They had a couple hunting knives, an ax, and a short sword. With nothing else better to use, Aytin started hacking away at the meat with the sword, carving off head sized chunks.

    "Toss it," Faelon said.

    "This?" Aytin held up the newly cut piece of meat. At a nod, he shrugged, and threw the hunk of meat into the air. It wasn''t a great toss, but the dragon snaked his head out and snapped it up in his jaws before gulping it down.

    With a slight grin on his muzzle, Aytin thumped his tail repeatedly to the ground in mock appreciation of the feat. Faelon just eyed the much smaller dragonette and cocked his head slightly to the left, obviously waiting for the next bite.

    It followed soon enough. And another. And another.

    "We''ll need to start a tirox ranch to keep up with your appetite," Aytin joked.

    "It ought to last long enough." A glance to the main carcass still suspended over the coals made it clear that the pair had barely dented their food supply.

    "It should at least give us long enough to figure out how to hunt some deer or pigs," Aytin agreed. He had vague plans. Mostly ideas for traps and such. But with the specter of starvation no longer looming behind them, there would be time to experiment.

    "No need. There is enough here for three, possibly four weeks at a stretch. It will be enough."

    The young dragonette gave his companion a funny look. "I''m not all that familiar with the weather up here, but won''t it be at least a couple of months before it''s cold enough to hibernate?"

    "About that, yes," Faelon agreed, before snapping up another piece of meat.

    "Sooo...?"

    Faelon fixed Aytin with a flat gaze. "So by the time winter arrives, I don''t expect to be here anymore."

    "Is... someone going to be looking for us?"

    The snort might have been a laugh, except there was absolutely no humor in it. "Do I need to spell it out to you?" Faelon asked, tone biting for the first time since Aytin had known the dragon.

    Without waiting for an answer, the dragon pressed on. "The first snow will cover my bones."

    That brought Aytin up short. He stood there, blooding sword in hand, gawking at the dragon. "But... but why?"

    "Have you honestly not thought further ahead than your next meal?"

    "Of course!" Aytin snapped, indignantly. "There''s a keep here. That means somewhere there are bound to be people on this island. We just need to find them. And if we can''t find them right away, we hole up in a cave somewhere to sleep through the winter. Then we find them in the spring."

    "And you might even survive. But what about me?"

    "What about you? Do you think I''m going to leave you here so that Xantha can have Kalthor blast you with lightning from above?"

    The dragon huffed. "My life ended when that cowardly ocean-spawned blue blew me out of the sky. You might fly again. Me?" He tried to lift the remains of his left wing, only for it to flop around awkwardly. "I''m never leaving this island. Do you understand that? Never.

    "They killed my crew, shattered my wing, and stranded me here on the edge of nowhere. But," and now the dragon''s words turned bloodthirsty, "if I breathe my last breath with my fangs around that traitor''s throat, I''ll die content."

    Aytin could only stare. In response, Faelon just lifted an eye ridge and looked pointedly at the meat laying untouched at his feet.

    Taking the hint, Aytin stooped down and started cutting again.

    But he couldn''t stop thinking about the dragon''s words. He knew their chances of survival were long, but it was worth making the attempt. Was he being a coward for wanting to live instead of throwing his life away against impossible odds? A crippled dragon and flightless dragonette against nearly thirty experienced brigands and an adult blue was the definition of futile.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    He thought about his prayer the previous night, and the vengeance he had asked for. And if the opportunity came to shove a spear into Xantha''s black heart, he knew that he would take it. But unless one of the gods personally came down and informed him otherwise, he didn''t see any way to so much as scuff her armor. Not in the state they were in.

    But that left another problem.

    "You know, I won''t make it on my own."

    Faelon didn''t have a response to that. In fact, when Aytin tried to meet his eyes, he turned his head away.

    After a few seconds of waiting, Aytin sighed and returned to carving the meat.

    He tossed another chunk of meat to the waiting dragon. It didn''t fly quite as high as the previous ones, and Faelon had to lunge slightly to keep it from splattering on the ground. But neither said anything.

    They repeated the whole thing a few times before Faelon said, "No more."

    Shrugging, Aytin wiped the sword off and returned it to its sheath. Then the two began the task of getting the bounty of meat onto the dragon''s back.

    They worked in relative silence, with only a few words spoken here and there. Nonetheless, the pair managed to get everything loaded without much trouble. Faelon was obviously experienced with the process from the years he spent transporting cargo. Aytin was mostly relegated to lashing things down, under the dragon''s terse direction.

    When it came time to move the spitted torso section, Faelon simply picked the whole thing up with his mouth and gently set it on his back.

    The two walked up the hill to the keep''s ruins without saying a thing. Every once in a while, Aytin would glance up at the plodding dragon, but he was always focused on something far ahead of them.

    Hauling the meat into the keep itself proved to be a challenge.

    "I can''t drag that in there," Aytin stated, indicating the narrow passageway into the ruins. "And I''d prefer not to spend the rest of the day cutting it into little pieces."

    When Faelon remained silent, the young dragonette pushed on. "I''m not trying to be negative here. I''m trying to think of something else we could do, but..." he trailed off with a shrug.

    Faelon looked the keep up and down. After some consideration, he gave a small nod. "Untie the ropes, and roll off the small bits," he ordered.

    Trusting that the dragon knew what he was doing, Aytin did as he was told. He had to grin in dark amusement at how easily the knots came loose, considering who he had learned them from. But he didn''t spend too much time reminiscing. It only took a few minutes before he was dragging the last of the haunches down the impromptu ramp formed by Faelon''s right wing.

    Carefully gripping the bulk of the tirox in his massive jaws, the dragon lifted it. He set his two front legs on the side of the keep and began to climb. Or more accurately, he used the stone wall as a support as he extended himself to stand on just his hind legs so that he could reach the large gap in the side of the building.

    There was the clattering of loose stones as the dragon dipped his head through the hole and put even more weight against the neglected wall. But it held for the most part, and when Faelon reemerged his jaws were empty.

    "Thanks," Aytin said as the dragon eased himself down the wall. A little more masonry came with him, but whoever had built the keep had known their stuff.

    The brigands had a few rough planks in the keep. A couple of them lashed together served as a makeshift sled. Aytin used it to haul the remainder of the meat inside, and piled it against the section Faelon had deposited in one corner. He wished he had a blanket or something to cover it with, but one that large could make enough bedding for half a keep. ''Hopefully the smell of a nearby dragon will keep the rats away.''

    When he emerged, Faelon was stretched out on the ground, relaxing in the midday sun. Although on closer inspection, the dragon wasn''t at all relaxed. His muscles were tense, like he was ready to spring. And he was staring off into the distance towards the place where he had ambushed Nyx and the rest of the brigands.

    "As crazy as it sounds, I forgot how big you are," Aytin said by way of greeting. He sat down on a chunk of fallen stone, and glanced off into the distance. There wasn''t anything in particular to look at, though.

    When Faelon didn''t say anything, he picked up a stone and started idly flipping it around. A thought occurred, and Aytin drew on his magic until he managed to balance it on the tip of one talon. It took a few tries, but soon he had it sticking like glue. Scooping to grab a handful of rocks, he started balancing them on top of one another.

    He was starting on his third when Faelon spoke.

    "We should recover the cache."

    Concentration interrupted, the stones clattered to the ground. Aytin looked up at the dragon, confusion written on his face.

    "All of the things I was carrying that survived the crash," he said, in answer to the unasked question. "I hid them a few days'' hike away."

    "Okay, yeah, those would be really useful."

    "There are tools, a little preserved food, medicines," he looked pointedly at the dragonette''s wings. They were much improved, but still held a hint of dark blue swelling in places. "It should be enough to give you a chance to survive the winter."

    "I... It could still help both of us. Together we-"

    "No." The word held a ring of finality that brooked no argument.

    Right then, Aytin felt like a coward. He was sure that if his dad was there, he would be ashamed of his son. But he wasn''t his dad. He couldn''t go up against a small army. Not even with his wings intact and a set of enchanted armor.

    There was nothing else that he could do. Absolutely nothing at all.

    "Okay," he said, instead. "And... thank you."

    Faelon dipped his head in acknowledgement. "We will leave the morning after tomorrow. I will need that long to recover."

    "Recover?" The dragon still looked like he had swum through hell, but that was a huge improvement since they had been reunited. He was moving as well as a ground-bound dragon could be expected to.

    "I need you to cut off my wing."

    At first, Aytin thought he had misheard. Except when the dragon turned to face him, his expression registered.

    Ears sagged and his muscles were slack with regret. His tail was limp behind him and Faelon looked as defeated as Aytin had ever seen him. But in his eyes there was a mithril-hard core of resignation.

    "Faelon, I..."

    "Not even a unicorn could save this." He twitched the remains of his left wing, then snorted slightly in pain. "Bones can knit. Tears in membrane and muscle can close. But nothing can heal what''s not there.

    "And it''s long since time I accepted that."

    "You''re sure about this." It wasn''t really a question, but Faelon bobbed his head. "Okay, when?"

    "Now," came the instant reply. "Make it quick."

    Aytin gaped for a moment, but when the dragon didn''t say anything he rushed off to find the ax.

    It was just inside of the door to the keep, right where he had left it. A minute with the whetstone and its edge was as sharp as he could make it.

    He paused for a moment on the threshold, looking at all the supplies laid out around him. ''What else? Is there anything else? Oh!'' His eyes landed on a coil of rope, which he grabbed. And a stout piece of firewood.  All the while, he tried to ignore what he was about to do with them.

    When he returned, Faelon silently extended his right wing. Aytin walked up it like he was the dragon''s executioner.

    "You''re absolutely sure about this?" he asked one final time.

    "It has been nothing but a hindrance since I was crippled," Faelon answered. "I thought... I hoped..." He struggled for words for a few seconds, and Aytin waited patiently. Finally, the dragon continued. "It is part of me. Even broken as it is. But... it is a part of me I cannot keep.

    "Yesterday, when that tirox..." he trailed off again, collecting his thoughts. "If a mere animal can take advantage of my weakness, that blue would no doubt do the same. I cannot afford to let sentiment get in the way of my revenge.

    "And," he added, with the barest hint of a smile at the edge of his lips, "it is most uncomfortable."

    "I-I can imagine," Aytin said, choking a little on the words.

    He made his way up to the broken wing. Its base was shattered, and the red scales around it were puffed out, purplish-blue swelling visible in patches around the bases.

    The best spot for the amputation was obvious: the compound break near the root. It would take a saw to cut through the bone, and every second of the process would be excruciating agony. But even with just the skin and tendons to cut through, the limb was still wider than a dragonette''s torso. There would be no getting around the pain.

    Aytin realized that he was hyperventilating. He forced himself to stop, and then take a single deep breath.

    "Are you ready?"

    "Yes," Faelon replied, turning his head to face forward.

    "Do you want me to warn you?"

    "No."

    Aytin nodded to himself. He tied the rope around the base of the wing using the strongest knot he knew. Faelon hissed in pain as the improvised tourniquet tightened. It got worse as Aytin started twisting the length of wood stuck inside of the loop, cinching it down as far as it would go.

    He thought about waiting for the lack of blood flow to put the limb to sleep. ''But didn''t he mention he could barely feel it, anyway?'' Aytin hoped that was the case. And he could see Faelon''s claws digging furrows into the ground. ''That settles it. The anticipation has to be killing him.''

    The ax was heavy in Aytin''s hands as he lifted it. A week of daily woodcutting had honed his technique. ''Just wood. It''s just like cutting wood.'' He channeled a little magic, and the ax suddenly felt steadier in his hands as its balance shifted.

    "Just wood," he muttered.

    The ax flashed in the light.

    And a second sun erupted as a red dragon screamed in pure agony.

 Chapter 19: Legends of the Past

    Aytin sat atop Faelon as the pair made their way through the forest. A slight breeze carried with it the pungent odor of burnt bone, sinew, and scales; he wrinkled his snout in disgust. The smell persisted even now.

    After the amputation, Faelon had managed to stay upright just long enough to dip the stump of his wing into the pool of glowing lava that was all that remained of a patch of ground in front of the keep. It effectively cauterized the wound, stopping the blood that was leaking past the makeshift tourniquet and evening out the ragged ax cuts.

    As soon as his wound was sealed, the dragon had collapsed. Faint shutters ran along his flanks and he took deep, gasping breaths until sleep overtook him.

    That had been nearly two days ago.

    Aytin adjusted where he sat. He was just behind Faelon''s neck, a good enough place to keep an eye on their surroundings. He had his bow gripped in one hand and an arrow in the other, on the off chance their passing would flush out some game. So far, they hadn''t had any luck on that front.

    The remaining meat and sacks of apples were lashed to Faelon''s back. There was substantially less of both than there had been the morning before. When the dragon had awoken the morning after his amputation, he had gorged himself until he could barely move.

    "It is more efficient this way," he had said. "Before a long flight, I will sometimes eat half an oxen."

    The dragon had eaten substantially more than half an oxen worth of meat. Enough to actually make a dent in their supplies. And Aytin had joined him, stuffing himself until he couldn''t eat another bite.

    That was why he was once more looking to hunt for the table. Not with any great urgency, but a pig or a deer would certainly be a welcome addition to their stores.

    But the forest was quiet.

    That probably had something to do with a massive red dragon plodding through it and making enough noise to warn anything with more brains than a field mouse to be somewhere else.

    Every so often, they would pass a tree with a wide slash in its trunk. Trail blazes that Faelon had made on his way to the keep. They were somewhat redundant, because a crippled dragon left a trail that even a half-blind city dweller could follow.

    "I can''t believe they never found your trail," Aytin commented as they passed a long furrow dug through the loam.

    "They probably were looking elsewhere. I was more careful closer to where I fell."

    "Oh?" Aytin prompted. He had been trying to strike up a conversation all day without much luck. That wasn''t unusual with the normally stoic dragon, but after a long morning with nothing to do but stare at trees, he was getting bored.

    "I spent most of the first day following a stream bed," Faelon replied, surprising his rider with an answer. "It is difficult to see tracks through water and on rocky banks. Especially from the air."

    "And they were looking for your body, not a trail."

    "That, too, yes." A few steps passed in silence, and then, "Tell me about them."

    "About the brigands?" At the dragon''s nod, he said, "Uh, sure. What do you want to know?"

    "Whatever you can tell me. Anything might help. Especially about the blue."

    "Uhh..." Aytin had to think. He hadn''t had much direct contact with the other dragon. But he had managed to pick up a few things. "Kalthor - that''s his name - he was a mercenary, I think. Before they sent him to the mines for something."

    "How good of a mercenary?"

    "I have no idea. It didn''t exactly come up. But from some of the things I read in Zan''s journal, it sounds like he hadn''t been out of the mines for long." He considered for a few heartbeats, and then added, "I think a lot of the crew were in the mines until the last few years."

    "Well, he let himself be captured. That says something."

    "He''s a lot smaller than you, too. Maybe a little more than half your size."

    Faelon bobbed his head, slightly. "Blues generally are. But they make up for it with speed and the range of their damned breath weapon."

    The memory of those lightning flashes sent a shudder along Aytin''s back and down his tail. He could still hear the crack and see the afterimage seared into his eyes.

    "What are you going to do?"

    The dragon thought about the question for a few moments. "Truthfully, I do not know. If I can get him on the ground, he won''t escape. Blues break rather easily." He snapped his jaws together with a loud clack. "And they are not fireproof."

    "There were close to thirty dragonettes in the band," Aytin reminded him. "More like twenty-five now, but do you have a plan for them?"

    "Do any of them strike you as lancer material?"

    "No." Somehow, it was hard to see any of the brigands willingly slamming a lance into a dragon at a flying sprint. Something guaranteed to shatter bones, at best. They were mostly held together by greed and Xantha''s force of personality. Not qualities that would lead to self-sacrifice.

    "They''re not going to let you go, though." Aytin added.

    "No, they won''t. But I will make it hard on them."

    A thought occurred to Aytin. "If you kill Xantha, they actually might. Reed managed to kill their old leader, Del. And Nyx was the closest thing there was to Xana''s rival. She seemed to think that was why she got left here watching me, so that her boss could cement her place on top without her undermining the whole thing."

    "I still find it difficult to believe Xantha was a traitor," Faelon said, almost to himself.

    "She was!"

    "Peace. I was not saying otherwise. But she had a huntress''s skills and a letter of recommendation from one of Reed''s cousins."

    "Probably forged."

    "Certainly forged," Faelon agreed. "I know Thistle. I cannot imagine she would have been involved in anything that would have led to Reed''s death."

    He went quiet after that. And Aytin didn''t try to interrupt this silence. Not until Faelon''s steps slowly veered to the right, until they were turned nearly perpendicular to their original path.

    "Faelon!"

    "What? Oh." He turned back to face the proper direction. "Thank you."

    "It''s fine." Without his left wing''s weight to balance the other, the dragon now had a tendency to drift to the right when he wasn''t paying attention.

    "Forging letters of recommendation is simply not a thing that is done," Faelon said, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened. "Traders talk, and the deception would last no longer than a single journey. The forger would be blacklisted, at best. Although, I suppose one trip is all that she needed."

    "Yeah," Aytin agreed. "She bragged about killing you being the plan from the beginning. I was just a lucky break as far as she was concerned."

    "She was an excellent hand. Trader material, in fact. A capable guard, huntress, navigator, and she could predict the weather as well."

    "She couldn''t actually," Aytin interrupted. "Or she had some sort of relic that she could read. Her real magic makes her immune to fire."

    "Really?" Faelon sounded interested. "How do you know?"

    "She did this," Aytin motioned to his mutilated wings, "while holding a red hot knife."

    His sister''s knife.

    "Interesting," the dragon rumbled. "She had a burn scar on one arm if I recall."

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Aytin remembered asking about it on the first day they had met. She had been rather touchy about it.

    "It does not matter," Faelon continued. "A simple campfire might not burn her, but dragon fire is a different story. Not even another red could survive my breath for long."

    The thought seemed to amuse Faelon. Or at least, the corners of his wide mouth twisted upwards.

    He seemed content with his thoughts.

    The forest around them had changed during the conversation. They were skirting around a section of dense growth. Most of the trees seemed shorter than the rest of the forest, with bushes and scrub packed between them.

    It was too dense for even a dragon to push through, so they were skirting around it.

    A little movement caught Aytin''s eye and he lifted his bow. But whatever it was ducked back among the closely packed branches.

    ''Probably a rabbit. Or maybe a squirrel.''

    If he had a clear shot, he might have taken it. The novelty of tirox had quickly worn off. Something about dry, unseasoned meat didn''t lend itself to an enjoyable meal. Something hot and fresh would definitely hit the spot.

    Hopefully, some of the spices had survived the crash. Or at least one of the barrels of salt. Something to make the unseasoned meat just a little more palatable.

    There would be some time between when they found they reached the cache and when the pair would have to part ways. A week or two, at least. ''Plenty of time to hunt a boar. Slow cook it in one of those big iron pots, with plenty of salt and a few of those apples. One last good meal for Faelon.''

    Aytin''s thoughts turned dark at that.

    ''I can''t believe he''s so calm about it.'' Aytin had known he would probably die when Xantha returned. He had thought he would die when he made his escape. But he had never had a choice about it. Faelon did.

    The dragon could walk out into the woods at any time. An island was a huge place. With the two of them together, they had a decent chance of outlasting any search. Maybe even bringing Xantha''s band to justice if they were able to find a frontier settlement and get help.

    He couldn''t help but wonder what his father would do in this situation. After all, the Bloodhorn had been a lancer. They chose to fly out to face certain death. Somehow, they had to come to terms with it. Maybe it was the same sort of thing.

    "Hey, Faelon," Aytin asked, a sudden thought coming to him.

    "Yes?"

    "You knew my dad, right?"

    "The previous Lord Luffin? I met him. That is not the same as knowing him."

    Despite the unenthusiastic response, Aytin wasn''t going to let the subject drop. "What was he like? People always tell stories about him, but they''re always about the things he did." When Faelon didn''t answer, he muttered, "Xantha told me more about him than my own mom."

    "She likely lied."

    Aytin disagreed. "Yeah, here''s the thing, I don''t think she did. It was too natural. Here I was, thinking he was like my brother Stonar. He''s like what they always say the royal guard is. Big, strong, brave, and stoic."

    Faelon grunted. "You have never met a member of the royal guard."

    "What do you mean?" A few patrols had passed through the keep over the years. He had watched them from a distance as the officers met with his parents, but only his older siblings had ever been introduced.

    "They are as... colorful as any soldiers I have met. They simply have fancier gear and better training."

    "And lancers?"

    "Even more so, by and large. The colorful part," he clarified. "It is a profession that attracts the desperate and the suicidally brave."

    Aytin took a deep breath and said, "Xantha told me that I probably have half-siblings. From my dad."

    "Then she likely was telling the truth." Faelon did not even try to avoid the point. "Lancers are known for their stamina, carousing, and lack of attachments. Your father did not strike me as any exception to the first two."

    "And the last?"

    "He was utterly devoted to your mother, your siblings, and your keep."

    "Oh." That was something, at least. "What else was he like?"

    "Proud. I may go so far as to say arrogant, save that he never boasted of something he could not do. And I never once saw him melancholy. He was perpetually full of energy. Always training with the guard or working on the keep or hosting us in the great hall. A superior cook, by all accounts, as well."

    "Huh." It was a side of his dad that he had never heard before. His mom went out of her way not to talk about her former mate, and his older siblings had been little more than hatchlings when he was killed. They knew the stories, but not the dragonette.

    "I did meet him once before he became a lord. Briefly, years ago, far to the east of the capital."

    "Was he any different back then?"

    "As I said, it was brief. I only found out who he was years later."

    "So what happened?"

    "Money was tight, and we were hired to deliver a cargo and ask no questions. The keep wasn''t far off of our usual route, so we took the contract."

    "That sounds dangerous."

    "It can be. But such contracts are far from unheard of. There are lots of groups that would rather their purchases avoid the attention of the crown. Untaxed goods, artifacts, and supplies for groups that simply wish to live unnoticed. All pay well for discretion.

    "And this cargo paid quite well. We were willing to overlook any irregularities in what appeared to be a simple shipment of food and tools. There were no surprise inspections by the guard, and no suspicious groups tailing us as we approached our destination. The job seemed to be going well up until we arrived.

    "We weren''t invited inside of the keep. That was unusual, but not unheard of. It was spring, and most of the inhabitants were busy with planting. We unloaded, collected our pay, and were on our way within the hour."

    "Did you ever smuggle anything to my keep?" Aytin interrupted.

    The edges of the dragon''s mouth twisted upwards. "Not that you need to know."

    His smile quickly disappeared as he continued his tale. "We did not know what it was we brought to this keep. Not until a single haggard dragonette carrying a hatchling flew up to meet us as we passed through the outskirts of the keep''s territory.

    "Her name was Sexta and she begged us to take her and her child with us, rather than return her. And we could see a party beginning to fly out after us.

    "Reed''s mother, Ivy, was in charge then. And she gave the order to keep flying and pretend not to see the group until we could hear Sexta out.

    "She told us that she had been on the wing since the previous winter. That she had hidden in a nearby cave to hibernate, along with her clutch of eggs. And as a huntress, she was able to survive on her own, for a time. Until the first traders of the season arrived. And she warned us exactly what it was that they were hiding.

    Faelon turned slightly, so he could watch Aytin with one of his eyes. "These were not tax evaders or some independent minded keep. They were eating their own eggs."

    Aytin felt his gorge rising. The idea was sickening. Like eating Faelon''s amputated wing, only somehow worse.

    There were the occasional rumors of some degenerate or desperate settlement reduced to such an act. But they were only stories, told by visitors after too much ale. Or so he thought.

    "That''s... that''s..."

    "Absolutely disgusting, yes. And it was worse than that."

    He had a sinking feeling, but asked, "How?"

    "The food and tools we brought them? They were merely a cover. Somehow, this group had found a supplier in the city. Someone that paid the destitute among them for their unwanted eggs."

    "Oh, gods."

    "Exactly. Needless to say, I did not let the party from the keep catch us. And I happily changed course when Ivy ordered us to report this to the nearest guard outpost."

    "And my dad was there?"

    The dragon shook his head. "No, he was not a lancer at the time. And we crossed paths before we even reached the outpost."

    "Before...?"

    "He was Sexta''s hatchling."

    Aytin''s jaw dropped open in sheer shock. "But... what... how?"

    "We left them with the guard, so I do not know what happened to them afterwards. It was only years later I recognized him, after he had become the Lord Luffin."

    "You recognized him? All those years later?"

    "Your horns are rather distinctive, after all. Sexta had them as well, and he favored his mother."

    Aytin instinctively reached up to brush his left horn where it jogged to the side. "That''s... not a story anyone ever told about him."

    "I expect not. The Inquisition frowns on telling such tales. I believe that they were involved in purging the cult, in the end."

    That made sense. Aytin never knew anything about his paternal grandparents. Or much about his dad''s origin, other than he was supposed to have been from the capital. That was where he had trained to be a lancer, anyway.

    "Damn," he muttered.

    "I am surprised your mother never told you about this. She, at least, should have known."

    "She doesn''t talk about him," Aytin said, in a flat voice. "Not like she ever talked much to me, anyway. Always ''busy''." He snorted a little. "I don''t think I saw her for more than a few minutes a day when I was little."

    "Why do you think that is?"

    Aytin thought about that question for a minute. "I don''t know. Maybe I remind her of dad? But she''s fine with Stonar. Zara and Suuie, too." He let out a hiss of frustration. "And now I''ll probably never know. Not for sure.

    "I''ll never see her. I''ll never see my brothers and sister. Lin..." He had to start taking deep breaths to keep from breaking down completely.

    "You will see them again." Faelon didn''t turn his head from the path as he said it. He just kept plodding forward.

    "I don''t know how," Aytin said, voice thick with suppressed emotion. "I''m going to spend the rest of my life on this fucking island. I might even make it to the far side if I''m lucky." He sniffed a little, and blinked to clear his suddenly cloudy eyes.

    This time Faelon stopped, and twisted to fully face the young dragonette. "You will see them again," he said. "Remember that. Always remember that."

    Then he turned back to the path ahead. Aytin remained silent, alone with his thoughts as they walked through the lengthening afternoon shadows.

 Chapter 20: Fever Dreams

    Aytin was walking through the forest, enjoying the weather. The sun shone through the widely spaced branches, warming his wings as he stretched them out.

    He didn''t have anywhere in particular he needed to be. It was nice just to be wandering. Wandering and watching the shifting trees.

    Although, all the trees seemed to blend together. One was just like another, and they went on and on and on. There were no birds, though. Or animals. Just the trees.

    He needed to get some water. He had a bucket in one hand, and there was a stream in this direction. He knew that like he knew the sky was endless.

    "Tintin! There you are!"

    To the left, a dragonette emerged. Aytin instantly recognized her. "Lin!" he shouted, and scrambled to embrace his younger sister. She was wearing her full huntress armor with its pure white enameled breastplate and polished steel edging.

    The bucket put Aytin off balance, and he nearly tripped. He couldn''t put it down, though. He''d lose it.

    Lin just laughed at him. He laughed, too. It was funny, after all. And good to see her again.

    "I''ve been looking everywhere for you," she said.

    "What about here?"

    "Here, too. Four times. It was where you were supposed to be."

    Aytin instantly felt ashamed. He knew he was supposed to be here, but he had needed to get the bucket first. That had slowed him down.

    "Sorry."

    "You had a good hiding spot. I think you win this game," she said, seriously. "I''ll beat you next time, though. So let''s get back to the starting spot."

    "Right. The great hall?"

    "That''s fine. It''s only a few minutes away." Lin frowned for a moment. "Where''s your knife?"

    Aytin patted himself down. He wasn''t actually wearing anything, but that was alright. There wasn''t anyone here but Lin, and he could put on clothes before getting home. The knife was a problem, though.

    "I don''t know. I was going to find it at the stream." That was what the bucket was for, after all. To drain the stream.

    "Well, let''s get going." She turned and walked down the path at a fast pace.

    It was hard to keep up. The ground was muddy. Aytin''s feet kept getting stuck and dragging him back.

    "Wait!" he called.

    But Lin was too far ahead to hear him.

    "Wait!"

    The forest was getting dark.

    "Wait!"

    Aytin couldn''t see his sister anymore.

    "WAIT!!!"

    The world disappeared in an explosion of fire.

    Aytin''s eyes snapped open as the pre-dawn glow gave way to a curtain of flames. He leapt to his feet, heart beating like a drum even as his mind tried to come to terms with what was happening. ''An attack?!'' And then, ''Where''s Lin? But... what...?''

    He was shaking his head back and forth, trying to drive away the cobwebs of sleep, as the flames began to fade. He knew Faelon had things under control. He was already awake, staring into the long line of burning trees in front of him.

    "Faelon!" Aytin shouted. The dragon snapped his head around to focus on the dragonette. "Faelon, what was out there?"

    "I..." The dragon seemed uncharacteristically unsure. "There was nothing," he finally answered.

    "Nothing?" Aytin looked back and forth between the growing fire and the uncomfortable looking dragon. "That doesn''t look like nothing." He had never heard of a dragon using their breath weapon accidentally.

    "A memory," he elaborated. "I have never... It... It was worse than it has been in a long time. Far worse."

    It was hard to believe a memory could have caused something like that. But Faelon didn''t volunteer anything further. And the fires kept growing.

    "Uh, Faelon?" Aytin motioned towards what was starting to turn into a respectable blaze. The mat of fallen leaves and needles were burning merrily along with chunks of deadwood. Even the trunks of some of the standing trees were beginning to smolder.

    The red dragon blinked a few times, and then nodded once. He strode into the flames, their heat not seeming to bother him in the slightest. Everywhere the fire had taken hold, he stomped it into the ground.

    One forest giant was fully ablaze by the time Faelon got to it. He simply strode up to the burning trunk and pushed his bulk up against it. There was a brief crackling as wood splintered followed by a tremendous crash as it toppled to the ground. Faelon stomped on the remains until they were embedded into the soft ground.

    Aytin let himself relax as silence returned to the camp. Absolute silence, without any of the chirping of birds or faint rustle of small animals in the brush. Anything that could flee had, and anything that couldn''t was either hiding or burned to a crisp.

    It was eerie, with only the faint breeze as background. The lack of noise was disquieting, even for someone without much experience in the woods. Between that and the earlier excitement, Aytin knew that he wasn''t going to get back to sleep.

    "At least it''s warm now," he muttered to himself as he made his way over to the pile of supplies. It was positively balmy, in fact. A silver lining to nearly burning down the forest.

    Retrieving a slightly bruised apple and a small chunk of meat from the provisions, Aytin frowned at their burned out campfire. It was ironic, really. But a patch of pine needles and sticks were still smoldering nearby. He added a few more branches to the pile, and then stoked it into a respectable campfire.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Faelon joined him shortly thereafter. He had done a good job ensuring that the forest would not burn around them. Only a handful of embers still glowed in the twilight, and they were winking out one by one.

    Whether he was still full from gorging the morning before or he was still coming down from the morning''s excitement, Aytin wasn''t particularly hungry. He only nibbled at his breakfast. It didn''t help that the meal wasn''t particularly appetizing.

    Eventually, he gave up on breakfast, and looked up towards Faelon. "You were... reliving a memory?"

    The dragon considered for a moment, and then nodded.

    "Do you want to tell me about it?"

    "I would not." The answer was unequivocal.

    "Is..." Aytin stopped and considered his words before pushing on. "Is it the same one you see most nights?" At Faelon''s sharp look, he just shrugged. "You jerk in your sleep. Mumble sometimes, too." He had been woken up enough times over the last few days to know. Not that he was complaining.

    It took a bit, but Faelon finally nodded. "It is the same memory. Just... this time it was so vivid."

    Aytin took another bite of meat. It was slightly more palatable. Still chewy and unseasoned, but he could stomach it. A gulp from a waterskin helped to wash it down.

    ''I''ll need to refill that, soon.'' The thought sparked a memory of his own. Of the night before.

    Dragonettes went to sleep, and then they woke up. There was never anything in between. Or almost never. Sometimes, they relived memories. That appeared to be Faelon''s curse. But even more rarely, something else could intrude on a dragonette''s sleep.

    "I had... a vision," he said into the quiet. "I think it was a vision, at least. I''ve never had one before." Aytin paused, trying to remember exactly what he had seen as he slept. Even now, the bits and pieces of the memory seemed to fall away like sand trickling through his fingers. "But... it''s not clear. I thought visions were supposed to be clear?"

    "Usually, yes." He had Faelon''s full attention now. "What did you see?"

    It was a struggle to make sense of the vision. "I was... walking? Going to a stream. And my sister Lin, she appeared and she was going to take me home. But I had to find my knife, first. The one she gave me and Xantha stole."

    "That sounds straightforward, if a bit odd."

    "No. No it was more than just odd. I''m not explaining it well." Frustrated, Aytin wracked his brain, trying to nail down exactly how to describe the experience.

    "It was like I was drunk," he finally said. "Everything made perfect sense at the time, but not now. Like, Xantha has the knife, but I was going to find it in the stream. And use the bucket to drain the stream. But I only realized I was going to do that after Lin told me to find the knife."

    Something else occurred to him, then. "Maybe I really was drunk. I was stumbling around. But with my magic, that should be almost impossible."

    "I have never heard of someone having a drunken vision." Faelon pondered the description. "Perhaps the food is beginning to turn. There are sometimes subtle poisons produced as foods begin to rot. They can produce hallucinations." He twisted to give their food supply a long sniff. "But I do not smell any significant rot."

    "And we didn''t really eat much yesterday," Aytin added.

    "That we did not."

    The sun was slowly beginning to rise to treetop level. Both dragon and dragonette watched its accent. Both considered all that had happened throughout the night.

    Eventually, by some unspoken agreement, they each stood and began to break camp. Aytin made sure all the supplies were bundled together, while Faelon lifted everything to his back. Then, the dragonette lashed it down. He wasn''t particularly fast or skilled, but Faelon was an expert in how to attach odd loads to himself. Aytin only had to tie the knots where he was told to do so, and soon enough they were ready to continue once more.

    "I have been thinking," Faelon said, out of nowhere. "Thinking about your vision. And my memory."

    "And?" Frankly, Aytin was clueless about the whole thing.

    "I do not know," was his reply. "But... I feel there is something I should know. Something about this all seems... familiar."

    He didn''t elaborate, just extended his wing for Aytin to climb. But the dragonette shook his head.

    "I think I''ll walk a bit this morning."

    "Suit yourself." Faelon took a moment to get his bearings and then motioned with his head. "This way."

    Aytin led, bow held loosely, still keeping an eye out for any game. There wasn''t any, but there were a few fresh tracks in the loam.

    The tracks didn''t look like they were left by any hooved animals. Not deer or pigs, and they certainly weren''t big enough for tirox. That was about where Aytin''s knowledge of tracking ended, so he asked Faelon.

    "Likely a wolf or some scavenger attracted by the smell of meat," he answered.

    That made sense. "Good thing you were there. He probably got one look at a dragon and ran all the way to the other side of the island."

    The dragon made a small grunt of accent.

    "Have you ever fought wolves?"

    "Once."

    "Oh?" There could be some useful information there. "How did you do it?"

    "I burned the pack from the air."

    Aytin figured that he should have seen that coming. But it still left a question he needed answered.

    "Do you have any idea what I should do? If I run into them on the ground?"

    Faelon thought about that for a few steps. "Do not be on the ground."

    "Ha. Ha." Aytin flicked his ears in annoyance.

    But Faelon pressed on. "I was serious," he said. "Wolves cannot climb. Sleep in trees. Keep your food out of reach. Fill them with arrows from a distance. Can you use a sling?"

    "No." Slings weren''t exactly common weapons. They were nearly impossible to use while airborne.

    "A pity. They are an excellent deterrence against wildlife, and ammunition is abundant. You might consider trying to learn."

    Aytin nodded. "I''ll look into it."

    "If you must be on the ground," Faelon continued, "wall yourself in. Small canyons or... caves." After a moment, he added, "Be sure a cave is unoccupied before you use it."

    "Got it." A thought occurred to him. "What if I run into a glasmole?"

    "What?" Faelon sounded confused.

    "You know, glasmole. Big and scaly, breath fire like you. They melt caves and use them as traps. What if one of them is using the cave?"

    "There are no glasmoles here," Faelon said.

    That... wasn''t right. "Are you sure?"

    "Very much so. They live only in deserts."

    Aytin blinked, then considered the dragon''s words. They seemed to rattle around in his head for a few steps. "You''re... you''re right. Wow, that was a stupid question." He knew very well that glasmoles liked the sand and the heat. Nothing like this place. "Sorry, I guess I''m more tired than I thought."

    "Are you sure you do not want to ride?"

    "No," Aytin said, firmly. "Besides, you''re not all that steady on your feet right now."

    Faelon had once again drifted off to the right. He corrected himself, but looked critically at Aytin.

    "I''m fine," the dragonette insisted. "I have plenty of energy." He jogged a few steps to demonstrate.

    "And how are your wings?"

    "Uhh..." In all honesty, he hadn''t thought about them much over the last day. When he extended them, the left was tender, but moved without issue. The right, though, brought a small hiss of pain as it reached full extension.

    "The infection is returning," Faelon noted.

    Aytin cast an eye over the wound. "It''s not as bad as it was before," he said.

    "But it is worsening."

    "Yeah," Aytin agreed. "How long until we get to the cache? You said there was some medicine there?"

    "We will arrive late tomorrow, if we move quickly," Faelon said. "Perhaps the day after if we are delayed."

    "Then we''ll move quickly." There was a gash in a tree ahead. Another trailblaze. Aytin set off towards it at a fast walk, Faelon''s slow heavy footfalls following from behind.

 Chapter 21: Shadows in the Rain

    "Ugh..."

    Mid-morning sun burned Aytin''s eyes as he stirred.

    "Oh... damn..." The plan had been to get up at dawn. The nights were getting long enough that there should have been no risk of oversleeping.

    ''It''s not like we can''t afford the delay. But even so... we didn''t exactly make great time yesterday.''

    He kicked himself for not accepting the offer of a ride right away. His stubbornness had probably cost them a league of progress before he had given into the inevitable.

    Although, even then it was slow going. Faelon seemed to struggle at times, even stopping entirely to rest at points. He blamed it on a lack of sleep, which seemed fair enough. It had been a long day and a short night.

    "Wake up, Faelon!" Aytin half shouted, half grunted. He had to pull himself to his feet by grabbing onto the dragon''s scaly hide.

    The worst part of it all was even with the extra sleep, he didn''t feel all that rested. Although the reason was obvious. It seemed that visions weren''t all that restful.

    Faelon wasn''t moving, so Aytin shuffled over to the front of the dragon. He had his remaining wing spread over his head like a blanket. Poking his head underneath it, Aytin saw the dragon was still asleep.

    With the eruption of the previous day still fresh in his mind, the dragonette took a few steps back and to the side before repeating his morning greeting a little louder.

    "Good morning!"

    Faelon''s wing shifted slowly and his eyes fluttered open. He looked like he didn''t quite know where he was or what was going on. "Good... morning?"

    "Yeah. Barely."

    With a deep groan, Faelon pushed himself to his feet. He seemed almost wobbly as he took a few steps towards their pile of supplies.

    "Is there food?"

    Aytin shook his head. "I just woke up. But I''ll get you something."

    There was still plenty of meat left and the thick, dry outer layer was keeping the rest safe to eat. Aytin''s best cutting implement for the massive carcass was still the short sword. He used it to saw several long strips from the tirox''s flank.

    Faelon snapped them up, one at a time.

    "I had another vision last night."

    Faelon stopped mid-bite and focused on the dragonette. "Was it any clearer than before?"

    "No."

    "Were you able to recognize any more details?"

    "I couldn''t. This was a completely new one."

    Visions sometimes repeated. New ones, one night after another, were unheard of.

    "I was flying. There was a herd of tirox and I knew we could use more food. So I flew down and wrestled one."

    "Wrestled?"

    Aytin nodded in response.

    "Were you perhaps wearing enchanted armor?" Faelon sounded doubtful.

    "I, uh... I wasn''t wearing anything..." He trailed off, embarrassed. "I don''t think I was wearing anything in my first vision, either."

    "That is... difficult to believe."

    Aytin''s ears were cocked back and his tail was straight as a board as he muttered, "I wasn''t thinking about it at the time."

    "I understand. It is unimportant. What happened afterwards? Did you survive?"

    "Yeah, I... I think I broke its neck."

    Faelon just stared, incredulous.

    "Look, that''s not even the craziest part!"

    Somehow, the dragon''s eyes got wider.

    "I had to run back to the keep to get a knife to skin it. Actually run, because it never occurred to me that I was flying before. But before I got halfway there, a bunch of crows came down and started carrying the entire tirox away."

    "Impossible."

    "Don''t you think I know that?!" Aytin snapped.

    Faelon pulled back slightly. "I apologize. But I cannot see how such a thing could ever happen."

    "Well, it seemed possible enough at the time. I tried to fly after them - I remembered I could right about then - but it was like I was in a storm even though the sky was clear. It tossed me left and right until I slammed into the ground. That was when I woke up." He looked up, a wry grin on his face. "I hope that I can change the future because that was a really dumb way to die."

    The big dragon blinked before slowly shaking his head back and forth. "These cannot be visions."

    "What else can they be?"

    "I do not know. But I believe I should..."

    "You said something about that yesterday. Any luck remembering?"

    For a moment, the dragon looked confused, That as much as anything sent a chill running down Aytin''s spine. But the moment passed, and Faelon nodded. "I suppose I did. Sadly, no, my memory is no better today than it was before."

    The dragonette didn''t comment on his companion''s brief lapse. Instead, Aytin said, "Maybe it''s something we ate? Some sicknesses can cause hallucinations. But I ate the meat, same as you. It smelled fine, and I even warmed it over the fire first." He shrugged, his furled wings fluttering in frustration. "And I washed out the waterskin before I filled it at that last stream. The water was moving, too, not stagnant. I''m not that dumb."

    "And how is your wing?"

    Aytin spread his right wing, suppressing a shudder at the flash of pain. "About the same as yesterday." The purple inflamed area had spread a little, but not much. "I don''t feel sick."

    When Faelon just stared at him, he sighed. "There isn''t anything we could do about it, even if it was my wing. Tomorrow, we''ll get to the cache. There''s medicine there. I''ll use it and hopefully there will be some preserved food there I can eat. If I''m still seeing weird visions after that, we''ll figure something out."

    The dragon didn''t exactly look happy, but he nodded. "You will ride today."

    "You bet," Aytin agreed. "I don''t think those visions make for good sleep. I''m going to catch a nap."

    "If only I were so lucky as to have someone to carry me while I slept," Faelon complained, although there was an edge of humor in his tone.

    "Part of the perks of being a noble''s kid." Aytin plucked a handful of moss from a nearby rock and used it to polish a talon while adopting a haughty bearing. "Now, does my mount require more sustenance? I only provide the finest for my servants!"

    "This mount believes the ''sustenance'' leaves something to be desired."

    Aytin gasped in mock outrage. "What impertinence! I will have you know that I prepared your meal with my own hands! You dare insult my mastery of the culinary arts?"

    "It tastes like you boiled it in a tanner''s vat and has a texture like the bottom of my foot."

    "If that is all you can say for yourself, then I''m afraid I will have to part with your services. After a suitable replacement can be located, of course."

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    "Of course," Faelon agreed. The corners of his mouth twitched in a grin. He still managed to keep his voice completely serious as he added, "But for now, as I am soon to be jobless and destitute, I will take you up on your offer of more boiled leather. I mean ''sustenance''."

    "I suppose it is only propper." With an exaggerated sigh, Aytin went back to cutting more strips of meat.

    They ate quickly, and then went about the task of breaking camp. Soon enough, they were back on the move.

    "We should reach a large stream late this evening," Faelon said after they had been on the trail for a time. "A half a day''s walk upstream will be the cache."

    "Are you sure?"

    The dragon''s pace had been far from the steady stride he had maintained on their first day out of the keep. At times, he even seemed to struggle to put one foot in front of the other, although those spells had become few and far between as the morning turned to afternoon.

    Faelon didn''t hesitate in his answer, though. "Yes. I am sure. We will be there before the sun sets tomorrow evening." He did pick up the pace slightly.

    Sitting there, doing nothing but watching, Aytin felt guilty. He could feel the muscles straining beneath him, and hear the ragged edge to the dragon''s breathing.

    "You hid the cargo well," he said, trying to distract his companion from the exertion. "You know they searched most of a week for that gear, right?"

    "It is... quite invisible from the air. In a box canyon... the cache is hidden in an overhang... formed by a small cliff." Faelon had to pause during his response, a testament to just how worn out he was. And they hadn''t even been traveling for more than a couple of hours.

    A thought occurred, and Aytin laughed softly. "You know, it might actually have been better if they had found the stuff and brought it back to the keep for us. That would have saved us all of this time and effort."

    Faelon took a few strides to catch his breath. "While... While I enjoy my enemies doing my work for me... I fear that finding my gear without me would have warned them that I still lived. Had they been on their guard, I never could have gotten them all."

    "I suppose not."

    The conversation dropped off at that point. It was obvious that replying was hard for the dragon.

    ''He probably hasn''t recovered from his amputation. Or the fight.'' The outlines of ribs were still visible on Faelon''s flanks. He still had some time to go before he had regained his strength completely.

    Aytin turned his attention outward. Once again, he kept watch for any prey. Once again, the forest was empty.

    There were signs, of course. Some obvious animal paths, chunks of bark rubbed off of trees, droppings, things like that. There were even a few squirrels and squawking birds. But evidently a dragon was a poor hunting partner.

    They went on for hours, sometimes talking but mostly not. Neither had much to say and both of them were tired.

    "You should take a break," Aytin said after the fifth or sixth time the dragon drifted into a tree. "I''m tired of dodging falling branches."

    He got a grunt in response. But a few steps later, Faelon slowed to a stop. "I had hoped to push on until the stream. There is bound to be a good camping site on its banks."

    "We can still make it. There''s a few hours of daylight left," Aytin pointed out. "You''ll be faster after a rest."

    After a moment, he nodded. "Keep watch. Do not let me sleep for too long."

    Curling up with cargo still tied to his back couldn''t have been the most comfortable position, but Faelon didn''t let it stop him from doing just that. Within a minute, his steady breathing made it clear that he was asleep.

    Aytin didn''t feel any particular need to dismount. His position afforded him an excellent view of the surrounding forest. He did make note of the sun''s position: midway between its zenith and the western horizon. When it moved a little over a hand''s breadth, he would wake Faelon.

    And, so, he settled back to watch and wait.

    Not that there was much to keep watch over. Even the birds were silent. So Aytin amused himself with his rock balancing trick. He was up to five, now, and working on a sixth. But it had been a rough night. Concentrating was difficult, and becoming more so by the heartbeat. Soon he was only getting three or four stones balanced before the whole pile came crashing down.

    He sighed and laid back. The dragon''s scaly hide was surprisingly comfortable. During the flight out, Aytin had never been able to get used to all the movement and noise. When they flew through the night, he had never managed to get a wink of sleep. But on the ground, it was relaxing knowing Faelon was right there. Nothing would dare to bother them, and if something was stupid enough to do so, then it would end up as dinner.

    Some of the rolled up bedding would make a perfect pillow. A quick nap would be nice. He did his best to ignore the desire.

    ''I would rather not go through more hallucinations. That, and I really should be keeping watch.''

    Aytin stretched his neck out to gaze over the forest. Nothing had changed. It looked about the same as any stretch they had passed the day before. And the day before that. Lots of trees and bushes and some grass and not much else.

    There was no great darkling army beneath the canopies. At least none that he had seen. After spending weeks on the island, the idea seemed almost funny now.

    ''Anyway, it''s way too bright for darklings.'' Plenty of sun was passing through the sparse canopy. Their black skin would burn in the light.

    Caves might be a problem. There were some mountains further inland. And they were common on the sides of an island. The forces of corruption loved to hide in caves.

    But forests were safe from corruption.

    It was starting to cloud up, though. That could be a problem. Darklings could escape their caves and come after them if there wasn''t any sun. Aytin kept a close eye on the sky, watching for the telltale black shapes descending from above.

    There were figures in the clouds. Big white dragons swirled around smaller formations of dragonettes while eight-legged lizards watched from the back of a wagon. Together, they kept the swarms of darklings at bay.

    Aytin watched the airborne giants construct an enormous wall. It spanned from horizon to horizon, pure and white and untouchable. The forces of corruption couldn''t hope to break through. Nothing could.

    But the darklings were cunning. If they couldn''t break the wall, they would move it. Nothing that enormous should be able to move, but there were so many of them. There was no holding them back.

    "F-F-aeee-ee-lon?"

    The name seemed to catch in his throat. It didn''t want to come out. Of course, Faelon was tired. He needed a nap. Aytin would have to handle this alone.

    More darklings had joined their brethren and the wall was fast approaching. Darkness seethed, and it slowly began to corrupt the barrier. The edges turned dark. Evil.

    Aytin picked up the bow. He had to protect Faelon until the dragon finished his nap. He could, too. He knew it. Aytin was the son of the Bloodhorn and that meant he could kill darklings if he could only figure out their names. It would be easy. And then he would have a story to tell when he got back home.

    Slipping down to the forest floor, Aytin ran towards the oncoming army. The battle above was fierce and the wailing screams of the fighting and dying only drove him on. A blue dragon used its breath weapon to burn a thousand darklings out of the sky. Their blood dripped down on him, cold and uncomfortable. He did his best to ignore it.

    "Just like dad," he panted as he skidded to a stop and nocked an arrow.

    There were darklings everywhere, but some of them were brown. Brown darklings only corrupted water demons. Those weren''t a threat.

    Something moved and Aytin drew and loosed an arrow. After a few days to recover and some practice with the bow''s heavy draw, his aim was much improved. Even if he couldn''t manage to pull the string all the way back, it was enough to send the arrow right through the darkling. It instantly shattered into a thousand glittering pieces.

    More of them emerged from the forest. "Where were you born!?" Aytin shouted. They would have to tell the truth. He could use that to figure out their names.

    These darklings were sneaky, though. They just hissed and spat in their own language. Dragonettes couldn''t speak darkling. That took two tongues.

    ''I''ll steal one of their belts. If I do that, I''ll be just darkling enough to understand them.''

    One of them had a very fancy belt, but Aytin''s next arrow passed had no effect. And it was obvious why. He had blinked!

    Taking advantage of his mistake, the darkling charged him, sword raised.

    He blinked again as the corrupted dragonette slashed at his neck. The steel couldn''t hurt him when his eyes were closed. But the darkling didn''t know that. It thought the sword was broken, and threw the blade into the air. Only without a weapon, it crumbled into ash.

    Aytin had to dodge to keep from getting the black gunk on him. It might turn him into a darkling and then he would have to fight himself. He could probably win, but it would take all week and he wanted to sleep tonight.

    The darklings grumbled. They wanted to see him fight himself. It wasn''t fair.

    One of them was trying to sneak away behind a tree. Aytin pulled out another arrow, and remembered not to blink this time. Sadly, all of the screaming above distracted the shaft, so it only grazed the darkling''s blackened hide as it slipped into cover.

    An animalistic screech exploded from behind the tree. The shear force of it sent Aytin stumbling backwards.

    He blinked. Then blinked again. There... were darklings? Weren''t there? But he didn''t see any.

    The forest was full of shadows. Rain was pouring down. Cold rain, in great big sheets. It was already sapping his strength.

    Something squat and dark flashed at the corner of his vision. He only caught a glimpse of an animal about the size of a boar disappearing into the woods. Not a boar, though. It was too fast, and covered in dark fur that glistened wetly in the flash of lightning.

    Something was very, very wrong.

    "Faelon!"

    There was no answer to the shout.

    He tried retracing his steps, but the rain was quickly turning the forest floor into a swamp. It was hard to see anything in the mess. And it was getting darker.

    "Faelon! Faelon, where are you?!"

    The wind tore his voice away and drowned it in the rain. But he thought he heard something, faintly off to his left.

    Aytin turned that way. A dozen steps later he cupped his hands to his snout shouted again. "FAELOOOON!"

    In answer, a column of brilliant flame erupted. It lit the entire forest, even from over fifty paces away, shining like a beacon through the pouring rain. Aytin ran for it.

    "Faelon!"

    The dragon''s head whipped around at the call, just in time to see the soaking dragonette emerge from the downpour.

    Aytin threw himself against the comforting bulk of the dragon. He was crying, choking down air, and he had a death grip on Faelon''s scaly hide.

    Faelon raised his right wing, angling it to cover both of them as best he could. "Aytin, what happened? You were not here, and I saw... I..." He trailed off, at a loss for words.

    "Oh, gods, Faelon!" Aytin trembled from cold and fatigue and terror. "Faelon, what is going on?!"

 Chapter 22: Lucid Times

    "Delerion."

    "Wa-what''s a delerion?"

    One perk of traveling with a red dragon was that no matter how wet it was, lighting a fire was never a problem. Aytin was sitting next to a blazing campfire while Faelon angled his wing to shield them from the tail end of the passing storm as best as he could.

    It was colder after the front''s passage, with a strong north wind whistling through the trees. Aytin huddled close to the fire as the sky dimmed with evening''s approach.

    "It is something I should have remembered sooner," Faelon answered. He was resting his head on the ground less than a wingspan away, doing his best to keep it under his upraised wing.

    "A delerion is a dark creature. Four legged and black furred, with a tail and pair of protrusions extending from their foreheads."

    Aytin thought back to the glimpse of dark fur and the animalistic scream of pain, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, that''s what I saw. I think." He held a hand up to a little above waist height. "About this tall?"

    "That would fit the stories. And you saw things that were not there? Hallucinations?"

    "An army of darklings," Aytin confirmed. "And I thought I could fight them!"

    Faelon shifted slightly, and a waterfall of rain slid off of his wing. "It is part of their magic. They force their victim into a state of delirium as they feed off of them."

    "And what do they feed on?" Aytin surreptitiously checked himself for spots of black corruption. It was hard to tell in the cloudy twilight and flickering flames, but he didn''t see anything but blue scales and white skin.

    "Magic. And through it, life essence. They sense it, and are drawn to it. Given enough time, they will devour it."

    Aytin gulped. "If that had gone on much longer..."

    "You may yet have lived. They are rumored to have a cunning sort of intelligence. This one must have been stalking us for days, feeding on us until it was sated."

    "Okay. That would explain a lot." The young dragonette nodded to himself as pieces fell into place. "So how do we kill it?"

    "Hopefully, that will be unnecessary. Delerions are cowardly. A wound may be enough to drive it away permanently. If not..." Faelon considered. "They are physically weak. Burn them, crush them, stab them, fill them full of arrows."

    "I only have one arrow left." Aytin fingered the last shaft nervously. The short sword and knives just didn''t seem like enough.

    ''Maybe a spear? There''s plenty of branches around here.''

    Faelon interrupted his thoughts. "Killing it from range would be the safest option. These creatures are rare and tend to avoid populated areas, but when they are found their location elimination usually falls to huntresses.

    "If they are present, dragons often aid in the final extermination. For while we are not immune to the effects..." He trailed off.

    "The memories?"

    Faelon grunted something unintelligible in response, but continued the explanation. "We are not immune to the effects of a delerion," he repeated. "But we are more resilient."

    Looking at the enormous red dragon, it was hard to imagine anything so comparatively small being able to hurt him. But size wasn''t everything.

    The rain had finally passed. Water still dripped from leaves and needles, but the stiff wind was quickly scouring them dry.

    Aytin stood and hunted around the campsite. In the dim light of the setting sun, he found what he was looking for: a sapling about half as thick as his wrist at the base and a little longer than he was tall. His ax made short work of it.

    "What are you doing with that?" Faelon hadn''t said a word up until then, watching silently as the dragonette worked.

    "Making a spear," he said as he started stripping the bark and branches with a knife. "I''ll take first watch. You get some sleep."

    Faelon raised one eye-ridge. "I did say it would be unlikely to return."

    "Yes, you did," Aytin said. ''But a sleeping dragon isn''t as reassuring as it once was,'' he added, silently.

    When his companion didn''t elaborate, Faelon asked, "Do you know how to use a spear?"

    "My brother taught me." He grimaced at the resin sticking to his hands, then held the shaft over the fire for a few moments. That burned the worst of it off.

    "I wasn''t great," Aytin added. "But I know the basics. And..."

    Taking the rough length in a two handed grip, he used it to lever himself to his feet and let his magic flow. He instinctively felt that his grip was wrong, and shifted it slightly. ''Perfect.''

    He stood there for a handful of heartbeats, then lashed out. The unsharpened point hit only air, but that didn''t seem to bother the dragonette. He stabbed twice more, and then swept the shaft around in some sort of block. The moves weren''t lightning fast and some of them were jerky, but the length of green wood felt better in his hand than a master crafted spear ever had.

    Spinning, Aytin grounded the butt, bracing it against the ground and angling it to impale a phantom attacker''s charge. A heartbeat later and he was standing straight with the handmade spear held vertically at his right side.

    His chest heaved and his heart pounded, but there was a smile at the edges of his lips. "It''s been a while since I did that drill."

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    "It was well done."

    Aytin shrugged. "Stonar could have done better. But like I said, I know the basics." He settled back next to the fire, and went to work on the point.

    He heard shuffling as Faelon laid down nearby, but ignored his companion''s movements. The sounds disappeared soon enough as the dragon settled in for the night.

    When the spear point was as sharp as he could get it, Aytin held it in the fire and turned it like meat cooking on a spit. It didn''t take long before the end was a uniform golden brown. With the moisture baked off, the tip was more rigid than before. Perfect for pinning a delerion to the ground.

    There were some scraps of leather packed away with the gear he had salvaged from the brigands. Which was still tied up with all the rest of their supplies on Faelon''s back.

    Aytin winced. He hadn''t even thought to unload the dragon, and all of those ropes had to be swollen horribly from the rain.

    His enormous wing was pulled over his head, but something about Faelon''s breathing told Aytin that the dragon was still awake.

    "Faelon?"

    He didn''t answer, but his wing shifted enough to reveal one of his enormous eyes.

    "Do you want me to untie the supplies?"

    After a moment, Faelon replied, "If you could loosen this knot, that would be enough." He extended his rear right leg slightly, indicating the rope looped around it.

    The dragonette scrambled to do exactly that. Night had turned the forest black as pitch, but after so much practice he didn''t need to see the knot to untie it. His fingers were guided by touch and instinct, and quickly had the line undone.

    Something heavy slid off of the dragon''s back and hit the ground with a thud.

    "Anything else?"

    Faelon sighed and shifted slightly. "That will do."

    Aytin nodded, although his companion had no way to see him. He did take a moment to fetch his bag - and the materials inside - before returning to the fire.

    It was a matter of minutes to add a rough leather hand-wrap to the shaft and pin the ends in place. He would have preferred glue, but he didn''t have any, and this would work well enough.

    Something subtle had changed in the sounds of the forest. Aytin''s grip around the spear tightened, and he tried to peer into the darkness. Beyond the light of the fire, the night was impenetrable.

    When he couldn''t see beyond a few wingspans he tried his other senses. A few moments later, he relaxed. Faelon''s breaths had evened out, and a slight whistle revealed the dragon had finally fallen asleep.

    It was hard to tell time without the sun. There were glimpses of the moon from behind fast moving clouds, but they were few and far between. Aytin had planned to stay up until a bit past midnight, but he couldn''t tell how long that would be.

    ''How long has it been? It can''t have been that long.''

    But the day had been a hard one.

    With nothing to focus on, he could feel his eyes drooping. A shake of his head did little to clear the need for sleep.

    Hoping the movement would help him stay awake, Aytin stood and stretched. As quietly as he could, he walked the perimeter of the camp, at the very edge of the dim circle of firelight. There wasn''t much to see, and the smells of the forest were overwhelmed by the scent of woodsmoke and newly fallen rain.

    A few sounds just managed to reach him in the brief calm between gusts of wind. The rustling of small animals in the brush. Insects buzzing. Birds calling softly to one another. Nothing out of the ordinary.

    Even under the cover of the trees, the cold and wind sapped his strength. He had to retreat back to the fire, and huddle close. Damp clothes didn''t help, and the thought brought memories of his nights in captivity back to the forefront.

    At least this time he had a fire. And a friend.

    Aytin looked back to where Faelon lay, just a few steps away. Even asleep, he exuded an aura of safety.

    Carefully, he eased back until he was resting against the dragon''s comforting bulk. Faelon didn''t so much as stir.

    ''Hopefully that means he''s not seeing any memories. And that the delerion really is gone.''

    The more he thought about it, the less sure Aytin was that he could actually do anything if the beast returned. It had been a miracle that he managed to wound that one. There was no way he could rely on miracles.

    But the false visions had seemed so normal at the time. And there were the handful of odd thoughts and comments he had made on the journey. They had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, but made no sense in hindsight.

    He tried thinking about the things he saw. His new spear looked exactly like he remembered it. Its roughly pealed shaft glistened slightly in the firelight. ''If I were imagining things, I hope I would have at least imagined a proper steel speartip.''

    The rest of the camp was more of the same. Nothing seemed out of place. But it wouldn''t, now would it?

    Aytin closed his eyes and rubbed a hand along the base of his horns. There didn''t seem to be any way to distinguish the real from the hallucinations. If he could just talk to Faelon, the dragon might be able to pick up on odd thoughts. Like when he had talked about glasmoles on the island.

    But they both needed sleep. Aytin was pretty sure it wasn''t just the cold that was making it hard to keep his eyes open. Two nights of false visions in a row. Having his magic, his life force fed on. And he hadn''t been walking for days straight.

    There was a blanket in his pack. Aytin retrieved it and wrapped it around himself. That and Faelon''s natural warmth would keep the worst of the chill away.

    The moon peaked out briefly from behind clouds and trees. Its crescent was lower than earlier glimpses. If it wasn''t midnight, it would be soon.

    ''I''ll give Faelon a little longer. An hour. Maybe two. It''s not like I have to walk tomorrow.''

    His thoughts turned to the future. Faelon hadn''t been able to tell what had survived the crash. But he had been fairly certain the majority of the cargo had made it intact. More than enough to keep a dragonette alive throughout the winter.

    A long, lonely winter.

    Aytin shivered, feeling Faelon''s thick scales slide across his back. ''I don''t want to die, but... I don''t want to be alone. Not for months or years or the rest of my life.''

    He was starting to wonder if the life of a wandering hermit would be any life at all.

    There had been weapons in the cargo. The guards'' weapons that they hadn''t been able to reach in the confusion of the ambush. And some for sale as well. The guards'' crossbows. Arrowheads, steel spear points, knives, and a sword or two. All sorts of weapons destined for keeps without a skilled smith.

    Maybe he could use them, somehow. If he could think of some way to fight twenty or twenty-five brigands, he would. Them and their dragon.

    It didn''t seem likely, but he wracked his brain for a solution. Sniping Xantha before she knew what had happened. Filling the keep with Faelon''s saliva mixed with oil and lighting it off when the brigands returned. Hiding and sneaking in to poison their food. Knocking the keep''s walls down with the brigands inside.

    Nothing seemed likely to work. But if he could only think of something, anything, he would do it. He would do anything to keep Faelon from throwing his life away.

    Aytin never even realized he had closed his eyes before the oblivion of sleep overtook him.

 Chapter 23: Broken Illusion

    "Good morning."

    Aytin opened his eyes, and immediately blinked against the bright sunlight. When he could finally pry them open, he was greeted by the sight of a red dragon peering down at him.

    "Good... morning?"

    The corners of Faelon''s mouth edged up in a razor-toothed grin and Aytin''s eyes widened.

    "Oh, gods, Faelon, I''m sorry! I was going to- I mean, it was-"

    Faelon interrupted, "Did you sleep well?"

    "Really, I''m sorry, I-"

    "I asked if you slept well?" There wasn''t any anger in the dragon''s words. In fact, if anything, there was a touch of amusement behind them.

    Aytin took a deep breath and thought for a few seconds. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess I did."

    If anything, he felt more refreshed than he had in days. Still tired. He needed about a week of sleep before he would feel well rested again. But better, save for his stomach clamoring for a meal.

    Faelon''s smile widened. "As did I. No memories. No visions. A very good night''s sleep."

    The sun hadn''t been up too long. It couldn''t have been more than half an hour after dawn, and the clouds had been swept away by the stiff breeze. The night''s chill was lingering, though. No doubt it would warm up during the morning, but Aytin''s lethargic muscles protested as he pushed his way to his feet.

    "Look, even if nothing happened, I still fell asleep on watch." It was embarrassing. Guards who were caught napping inevitably ended up on punishment detail, cleaning chamber pots and mucking out animal stalls.

    "It is no matter. I am impressed that you managed to remain awake long enough to finish that." He motioned towards the spear laying nearby.

    "But, still, I said-"

    "You were dead on your feet, and I was no better. If nothing else, you need to learn your limits," Faelon said, gently. "If you truly wish to apologize, you can make us breakfast."

    Aytin immediately got to work cutting off hunks of meat. It turned out that Faelon was just as hungry as he was, and they ate in silence save for the sound of chewing. Somehow, it didn''t even taste quite as bad as before.

    After cleaning up the camp and reloading their belongings, Aytin made one final circuit around the dragon, checking the lines securing the cargo. As he walked, he asked, "Do you think we''ll reach the cache today?"

    "I certainly think it likely. We should reach the stream before late morning, and then the cache well before sunset. Assuming my pace is better than before." He extended his remaining wing in a stretch. "That should not be a problem."

    "Yeah. It''s amazing what a full night''s sleep can do." Aytin extended his own wings, but grimaced a little.

    Faelon noticed the expression. "Your wing?"

    An angry purple was beginning to spread from the wound. "It''s still not as bad as it was before. If I can get some salve on it in the next few days, I think it will be fine."

    That was the hope, anyway. All there was to go on was his experience with Zan''s concoctions and the promise that the cache held something even more potent.

    As promised, they made excellent time. Faelon dealt with the cooler weather by pushing himself. They were traveling faster than a dragonette could jog, only slowing every so often to hunt for a trailblaze among the trees.

    Aytin didn''t have the luxury of much movement. He had to wrap himself in a blanket to keep his strength from being sapped away by the cold wind. If he closed his eyes, it was almost like flying again.

    "It will not be long. We can break at the stream," Faelon remarked sometime midmorning.

    "Hungry already? We just ate," Aytin teased.

    He got a snort in reply. "You try running through the forest for hours and tell me how you feel."

    "No, no, I''m happy letting you have all the fun."

    It was like a cloud had been lifted. There was the same sort of feeling as when Faelon had killed the tirox and solved their food problem. Nothing was exactly good, but their needs were sated and there weren''t any immediate threats to life and limb.

    The trees were beginning to change. There were fewer needle-covered pines and more of the broad leaf varieties, many of which were starting to turn vivid colors at autumn''s approach.

    ''I wonder if any are edible?'' Frankly, Aytin had no idea. The trees back home tended to be little more than scrub, with very occasional patches of thicker growth. He knew some trees had nuts or fruit, but not much more than that. It was frustrating to be so close to all of that potential food and not be able to tell what was edible from the poisonous.

    There were all sorts of things to eat in forests, apparently. Nyx, Opal, and Juniper had brought back nuts, roots, and leafy greens along with a regular supply of meat. It was certainly out there, if one knew where to look. The problem was, he didn''t.

    If only Voxin had survived. She had known her way around a foraging party. And as long as he was wishing for things, he might as well wish for a troop of huntresses.

    Maybe Lin, too.

    She''d be out of her comfort zone, sure. But, she was smart. She could adapt. Certainly find them something to eat, and cook it a lot better than he could. And it would be damn good to see her again.

    He could almost imagine her flying to meet them, landing with that cocky smile she had the last time she was flying on Faelon''s back. Because of course, if there was a rescue party, she would be the one to find him.

    It was a happy thought. And after how well the morning was going, Aytin was feeling just optimistic enough to maybe even believe in it. He looked down at the distant forest and smiled.

    That smile turned to a slight frown as a thought itched at the back of his mind.

    "Something''s not right..." he muttered.

    Of course, Faelon couldn''t hear him over the wind. Even flying slowly, circling to catch the thermal updrafts, it was still too loud for whispers to carry far.

    The niggling thought persisted.

    It didn''t make sense. All around them, the sky was clear. They were over the forest, heading for the cache. And that was somehow wrong.

    Aytin blinked and shook his head. Off to the left, something shifted. Faelon''s wing was there. And it wasn''t there. And it couldn''t be there. And there was an echoed scream and the heat of flames and the feel of an ax as it bit into flesh!

    "FAELON!"

    The scream shattered the hallucination. Suddenly, they were back on the ground and he was face to face with a very confused looking dragon.

    "Faelon! It''s back!"

    He got a long, slow blink in response. Then a faster one, followed by comprehension dawning.

    "Down!"

    Aytin obeyed, throwing himself flat on the dragon''s back. An instant later, a wide arc of the forest was suddenly wreathed in flame.

    It was a quick, wide burst of dragon fire that left tree trunks smoking as piles of fallen leaves quickly consumed themselves. Aytin could feel the heat of it against his head and back, even flat on his stomach with most of Faelon''s body in the way.

    He peaked up at the smoldering scene ahead, and coughed as the wave of smoke hit him. It didn''t look like there was much risk of a wildfire. Not with the forest still damp from the previous night''s storm. But isolated patches were putting out great clouds of thick, gray smoke while flames licked hungrily at the trees that caught the worst of the blast.

    The ground shifted. Or more accurately, Faelon did, scanning all around. The heat and smoke didn''t appear to bother him in the least. "What do you see?" he demanded.

    "Umm, it looks like if you didn''t get it, you at least gave him a good scare."

    "No, what do you see, exactly?"

    "Wha- oh. Oh." Aytin spent a moment taking the entire scene in. "You burned everything in front of us for maybe sixty paces. There are a few fires, and lots of smoke." He looked behind them. "I... I think you''ve been walking in circles. There''s a pretty clear path behind us."

    Faelon snaked his head around and his eyes narrowed at the curved path of muddy footprints and broken vegetation to their rear. It looked like a small flock of dragons had walked this way.

    "There was a stream, just ahead," Faelon muttered. "I could see it through the trees..."

    "You were flying. At least, that''s what I saw."

    The dragon gave him a penetrating look. "That is a sick joke."

    "I''m just telling you what I saw!"

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    "I know, but..." Faelon snorted, then turned to angle back towards their original path. He set off at a pace even faster than before.

    "Do you think you got it?" Aytin asked, hopefully.

    "Did you see a body?"

    "No." There hadn''t been anything like one among the ashes.

    "Neither did I. At best, I drove it off. Or it could simply be following, biding its time."

    Aytin instinctively looked back. There wasn''t anything there. Not that he could see. Some movement caught his eyes, but with the shifting light and shadow it was impossible to tell if it was a trick of the eye or a watching delerion.

    Or a hallucination.

    "What do we do?"

    "Find out if it is following us. Kill it if it is."

    "Okay, but how do we do that?" Aytin had his bow out, with his last arrow gripped tightly in one hand.

    "If you think of anything, let me know." Faelon''s reply held a note of dark humor.

    Aytin tried. As the dragon strained beneath him, he split his attention between keeping watch and trying to figure out some way to fight this delerion.

    That was easier said than done. It could attack from hiding, without ever exposing itself. And it was fast. The more he thought about it, the more Aytin knew that even catching a glimpse of the delerion the night before had been sheer luck.

    Thoughts chased each other as the trees rushed by. But they always came down to the same problem: They couldn''t hurt what they couldn''t see. Or at least, Aytin couldn''t. Dragon fire turned concealment into an inferno. But Faelon couldn''t immolate random patches of forest forever, even if that was their best defense for now.

    He still didn''t know how to make a trap worth a damn. There hadn''t been time to figure it out. And the delerion seemed smart enough that it wouldn''t just walk into a random pit. Not without some very, very appealing bait.

    ''Hmmm...''

    "Faelon?"

    "Yes?" After pushing himself so long, the dragon''s voice sounded ragged.

    "Can you think of anywhere on your path where the delerion would have to pass to follow us?"

    "I do not know... what you mean?"

    "Like, back home, the Luffin Keep has a few rooms any invader would have to fight through. They all have murder holes and long hallways leading out that we could shoot arrows from."

    "Chokepoints."

    "Yeah. I... I don''t suppose there are any of those." The idea was starting to sound a little silly. A forest and a keep were completely different.

    But to his surprise, Faelon answered, "Yes." It took a few more steps for the dragon to get the breath to elaborate. "The canyon... with the cache. It''s narrow. Only about... twice... my wingspan. My old wingspan." The last was added with enough bite to carry through the panting.

    "Then we get there, wait to start hallucinating, and then you burn it all to the ground!"

    "It could work," Faelon agreed. "I have... nothing better."

    "Then we just need to get there."

    "What do you... mean we?"

    Aytin had to laugh. It felt good.

    "Okay, you get us there. And then kill the delerion while I sunbathe and eat dried meat."

    "You... do that."

    Without warning, Faelon increased the pace to nearly a galop. The reason became clear soon enough. The trees thinned to their front and beyond them a small river flowed.

    Its banks were swollen with recent rainfall, and the sound of rushing water carried over the dragon''s pounding lope.

    Faelon skidded to a stop, leaving deep furrows in the soft, muddy ground. It was almost enough to throw Aytin off, and even with his magic he found himself grabbing onto spines to keep his balance.

    The water was cool with only a hint of sediment, and Faelon dipped his head down to take bucket-sized gulps of it. He alternated between slurping and gasping for nearly a minute as Aytin hopped down to get his own drink and refill the waterskins.

    "I will have to slow down."

    "I kind of figured," Aytin said. The dragon had finished drinking his fill and was looking down at him. "You were pushing yourself for almost an hour. That can''t have been easy."

    "It was not. Now, get back on." He extended his wing. "We must keep moving."

    "I thought you were hungry?"

    "Starving. But I can eat on the move."

    As soon as Aytin was on the dragon''s back once more, he started walking upstream. It was a slower pace than before, made even worse by the need to turn and accept hunks of meat as they were offered. Still, they were moving.

    "Tell me what you see," Faelon ordered, once he was finished eating.

    "Trees, water, some hills not too far off. You''re still following the river bank. No flying tirox or rogue islands." Aytin shrugged. "I know what you''re doing, but it''s going to get very boring, very fast if you keep asking me every few minutes."

    "Our hallucinations are our own. If you and I are seeing different things then-"

    "Then the delerion is near. Yeah, I know. But when that thing was getting to me, I wasn''t just seeing things. I was drunk or something. Not making sense. So, really, we just have to be talking."

    Faelon''s back rolled as he bobbed his head back and forth in a shrug. "Very well. What do you want to talk about?"

    "Uhh..." Aytin had to think about the question for a moment. In the end, he went with the obvious. "Do you have any better plans to deal with the delerion?"

    "No. I will tell you if I think of anything. But I believe your plan is a good one. Simple and straightforward as most good ones are. So when something goes wrong, there is less to fix."

    "You think something is going to go wrong?"

    "Think back to other plans. Have they ever gone completely right?"

    He had a point. Of course, Faelon was probably talking about the tirox showing up when they were hoping for boar. Or even this whole trip. But his escape attempts from Xantha and the brigands also came to mind as well.

    "No. I can''t say they usually work out the exact way they''re supposed to." Aytin gave a short bark of laughter as an old memory resurfaced. "Say, do you remember the first time we ever met? I think I was maybe eight or ten years old."

    "I vaguely recall you being presented by the Lady Luffin around that time. Why?"

    Aytin had a wry grin on his face. "Do you remember I probably looked a little unhappy?"

    "No. I am sorry to say that I was not paying particularly close attention."

    "Well, I remember it, and I can tell you that I was pretty upset at the time. They''d just told me that if you got mad then I was going to be your dinner."

    "What?!"

    "They weren''t being serious. At least, now I realize they weren''t. But I was absolutely terrified at the time." Aytin laughed again. "Although, mother probably considered it at least once. I kind of deserved it."

    Faelon made an inquisitive sort of noise and the young dragonette continued the story. "There''s this plant that grows in the drier parts of the island. It has thick, waxy leaves and long needles. That''s where it gets its name: The needlefruit bush.

    "Those fruits, it takes years for them to ripen and they''re a pain to harvest. But if you get enough of them you can boil their juice into a kind of syrup. It''s not as sweet as honey and goes bad in a couple of months, but it''s still pretty tasty.

    "Now, my sister Lin and I were poking around the pantry. Well, mostly me, with her kind of tottering behind. She was really small at the time.

    "Anyway, I managed to drag over this ladder to check out the top shelf, and found this fancy looking bottle up there."

    "Oh, no." There was a hint of amusement in the dragon''s tone.

    "Oh, yes," Aytin said with a smile. "We poured it all over our morning porridge. Still the best porridge I''ve ever had in my life.

    "But a few days later, you showed up. And when the cooks started looking for the needlefruit syrup to make a welcome cake with, they found an empty bottle. Our sweetened breakfast probably cost enough to feed a troop of huntresses for days."

    "How did they find out?"

    "Oh, I don''t think it was that hard to figure out. Lin and I were literally bouncing off the walls that morning. And I confessed when mother confronted me. Which is probably the reason I got off so lightly."

    "I recall that Reed did something remarkably similar when she was young. Only, she found a jar of honey."

    "Oooohhh..." Aytin winced. He had only tasted honey a handful of times before. Gathering it from under the stingers of warrior bees half the length of Aytin''s tail was an often deadly task. It explained the exorbitant price charged for the sweet treat.

    "Yes. They put her to work in a warehouse for two weeks. Her mother Ivy was friends with the owner, and he had her running messages and sorting boxes from dawn to dusk."

    "Wow, I really did get off easy. I only had to clean the kitchens for a few days."

    "She was older than you were at the time. She should have known better."

    That was an image. Reed: Veteran trader. Captain of a dragon crew. And reformed honey thief.

    And thanks to Xantha''s betrayal, dead.

    Aytin''s smile died. That thought soured his mood significantly. And he sensed Faelon was feeling the same.

    "What... What happened to Reed''s mother?" Aytin struggled to keep the conversation going, if only because the delerion was still out there.

    "Ivy? She retired to the capital some years ago. I saw her the last time we were there."

    Aytin tried to steer things in a less depressing direction. "Did you know her since she was a hatchling, too?"

    "No, I met her... well, she was a crewmember who had saved, scraped, borrowed, and begged enough gold for a cargo and crew of her own. And I needed to eat."

    "Did they not have clouds to eat back then?"

    Faelon slowed just enough that he wouldn''t sink into the mud surrounding them. "Are you making some sort of joke?"

    "No, I... oh, shit!"

    Realization hit him just as Faelon twisted and sent a burst of fire back downstream. He followed it up with a roar that left the much smaller dragonette''s ears ringing. Then he barreled forward, sprinting at nearly the speed of a flying dragonette away from the presumed delerion.

    The bucking gallop nearly threw Aytin off. He held on tight and burned magic to keep from tumbling into the nearby river. There were no pits of mud. That had been another hallucination. The very beginnings of one.

    Soon enough, Faelon slowed his breakneck pace. He was panting, having covered half an hour''s journey in just under ten minutes. Without a word, the dragon plunged his head into the river and took huge, greedy gulps.

    Waves of heat rolled off of him. It felt more like midsummer than early autumn on the dragon''s back.

    "Are you alright?"

    Faelon finished another gulp. "Fine." He took several gasping breaths.

    Aytin anticipated the dragon''s next question. "The trees are starting to thicken. There''s a rise up ahead on the left bank of the river. I don''t see anything behind us except your tracks."

    "Good." And then, "We are nearly there."

    "How far?"

    "That rise you saw... it is a plateau. The canyon cuts through it."

    At their earlier pace, it would take them a little over half an hour to get there. At the one Faelon set, it would be quite a bit less than that.

    Aytin was too keyed up for conversation. He scanned the forest around them, dutifully reporting what he saw. Faelon didn''t reply, simply grunting at the descriptions. Trees, bushes, small creeks flowing to join the larger stream.

    A few fallen boulders started to dot the landscape as they approached their destination. The hill to their left sharpened as they passed its forward edge, becoming a rough sided cliff slowly rising above them. Its sides were no doubt the source of the occasional rock slide.

    The cliffside grew as they continued. When it was a little taller than Faelon was long, a break appeared in the rock. A small creek flowed out from the middle of a miniature valley. From edge to edge it was maybe two or three hundred paces, bordered by sheer rock that was high enough to leave the canyon in shadow for most of the day.

    They had finally arrived.

 Chapter 24: Recall the Real

    Their ambush site wasn''t at the mouth of the canyon. It was a few hundred paces further up, just past a bend in the canyon''s path.

    Faelon was nestled up against the cliffside, staying as out of sight as a mature red dragon could hope to. As it turned out, he was quite difficult to see. The trees and the rock wall did wonders at concealing his bulk.

    As soon as they felt the delerion''s influence, he would spring out and turn the choke point into an inferno, then push forward to make absolutely sure the beast was dead. Meanwhile, Aytin''s job was similar to that of a small bird in a mineshaft. As soon as he started babbling about flying through the oceans or cities made of gold or some other nonsense, Faelon would know that their prey was near. Then Aytin could stand back and let the dragon do his job.

    Now, if only they could get it over with.

    "We should have raided the cache first."

    "We did not know if there would be time. And there is nothing there to help us."

    "Yeah," Aytin admitted. "But it would be nice to maybe have a few more arrows, at least."

    He idly fingered the single shaft he had left in his belt quiver. His spear was also nearby, leaning against a rock, but if he was close enough to use it, the delerion had better be dead.

    Almost seeming to mimic Aytin''s thoughts, Faelon said, "If you need to use your bow, things have gone terribly wrong."

    "But didn''t you tell me earlier that plans always go wrong?"

    "I believe I did." There was a hint of a smile on the dragon''s face.

    Neither of them stopped scanning the trees as they talked. Every once in a while, Faelon''s nostrils would flare as he took a deep sniff. Aytin tried as well, but he didn''t have the experience to pick anything out from the smells of the forest.

    It was early afternoon, but the steep canyon walls meant they were hidden by shadow. Which was all well and good for the ambush, but the cool weather and lack of sun were hell on the cold blooded dragonette.

    "A fire would be nice."

    "And the smoke would give us away."

    "It''s not like it can''t hear us, anyway. Wouldn''t a fire make us less suspicious?"

    Faelon huffed. "It is a beast, not a brigand." After a moment, he added, "Is it that cold?"

    "I''ll be alright. I''m just not used to this, you know? It feels like winter." Bundled in salvaged clothes as he was, Aytin could function. But his muscles were starting to feel just a little bit sluggish.

    "Come here." The red dragon shifted his wing slightly. The motion swept a patch of ground at his side clear of dead leaves and branches.

    Aytin moved and gratefully settled down against the dragon. The fire in his belly radiated warmth that drove the lethargy away.

    "Be prepared to move when I tell you."

    "I will." Aytin didn''t want to get in the way of a dragon''s charge.

    His new position did make it harder to see, but that wasn''t why he was there. Aytin was the trap''s bait, not its teeth.

    Although, it wasn''t quite that bad. After so much exposure, he was getting better at recognizing the delerion''s influence. He thought so, at least. But he still kept talking, just to be sure.

    "You said you met Reed''s mother Ivy when she was just starting off on her own. Did you have another crew before that?"

    "She was my first trading partner."

    "Oh, what did you do before that?"

    Faelon wasn''t one of the ancient red behemoths by any stretch, but judging by his size he was at least over the two century mark. Possibly even older. Even if Ivy had started her career exceptionally young, that still left the dragon with decades of adulthood before he met her.

    But the dragon didn''t answer right away. In fact, Aytin could feel the great muscles tensing slightly beneath him.

    "I was in the royal guard," he finally admitted.

    That was a prestigious post. One that paid well and had many opportunities for dragon and dragonette alike. Aytin knew it wasn''t unusual for dragons to serve for decades or even a century or two before retiring to other pursuits.

    "So what made you decide to become a trader? I thought a lot of reds spent their entire lives in the guard."

    "Some do."

    "But- oh." Faelon''s tone finally registered and Aytin shut his mouth with an audible clack.

    He hunted for some change of subject, but nothing seemed to present itself. Meanwhile, he could feel muscles clenching and relaxing beneath him, like the dragon was getting ready to pounce.

    To his surprise, it was Faelon who broke the silence.

    "I lost my crew."

    "I''m... I''m sorry." Aytin could feel the massive heart pounding against him. When Faelon didn''t say anything, he ventured, "What happened?"

    "I killed them."

    "You..." Aytin''s eyes went wide as he stared up at the dragon.

    Faelon refused to meet his gaze, instead keeping his head turned out towards the canyon entrance.

    "It was all I could do," he said, his deep voice barely a whisper. Aytin felt the words more than heard them.

    "They were green, most of them. But Lieutenant Taelor and Sergeant Zeph were experienced. We had been together for more than a decade. Patrols and escort duty. Three years in a mid-sized keep a week''s flight northeast of the capital. More years as part of the capital garrison. They were... they were very good years." A hitch forced Faelon to clear his throat, but he pressed on.

    "We had just been assigned as part of a small wing of scouts. Banditry had been reported along a section of the frontier, and we were ordered to stamp it out.

    "We flew from settlement to settlement for weeks. Traders continued to go missing while we found no sign of their ambushers. So we made the decision to split our wing up. After all, what could some brigands do against trained members of the royal guard?

    "Apparently I never learned that lesson," Faelon added, his tone becoming even darker. There was a grinding noise as he clenched his talons, leaving deep lines in rock and soil alike.

    "It''s alright, Faelon," Aytin said. He awkwardly patted the dragon''s flank, not really knowing what else to do. "You don''t have to do this."

    "Yes, I do. After what we have been through, you deserve to know. And... I need to tell someone. A handful of others remember the stories. But few truly know what happened on that day."

    Aytin nodded slowly. "I think I understand."

    "I believe you do. Or you will."

    Faelon took a deep breath and continued. "I spotted a group of dragonettes approaching where there should be none. They wore armor and carried weapons. It was a small group, not even a match for my normal crew much less the reinforced complement I carried. Lieutenant Taelor agreed we should investigate.

    "They turned away the instant they saw our approach, but shifted course towards the edge of the island minutes later. Even in armor, I was faster, and they had no dragon of their own. Lieutenant Taelor believed that they had been fleeing towards their comrades and were seeking shelter in caves beneath the island when it became apparent that escape was impossible. And sure enough, the last of them disappeared into an ancient mineshaft just as I crossed the island''s edge."

    Throughout the tale, the stump of Faelon''s left wing had been flexing involuntarily. Now it angled backwards, as if in a diving pursuit of the fleeing memories. He didn''t seem to notice as he went on.

    "Rather than wait for the group to disappear into the warren of tunnels some of these ancient mines host, Lieutenant Taelor decided we should follow on their tails. He wanted to capture one and force them to reveal the location of the main group. Sergeant Zeph disagreed. He said we should send for support. But he was overruled. I landed in the wide tunnel mouth, and immediately pushed into the depths."

    When Faelon didn''t continue, Aytin asked softly, "It was a trap?"

    "Yes."

    "But why? Why would a bunch of brigands-"

    "They were not brigands. It was a band of darklings."

    Aytin''s eyes widened and his ears flicked back in involuntary shock.

    "They covered themselves in chalk so we would not realize what they were until it was too late," Faelon explained. "We had reached a cross-tunnel and the crew had moved forward to scout when the roof of the tunnel collapsed. Whatever method they used, they timed it perfectly to trap me in the rubble. A few of the crew were buried as well. The rest were swarmed by darklings emerging from disguised alcoves.

    "It was not even a fight. Focused to the front with weapons and shields angled ahead, they scarcely had time to realize they were under attack before the enemy was among them. I do not believe even Zeph managed to spill a drop of blood before he was beaten into submission."

    It was obvious what was going to come next. "Oh, gods, no."

    "They were most certainly not there that day." Faelon''s words went beyond bitter. "I was forced to watch, struggling against an island''s weight on my back as the crew was dragged up the tunnel.

    "It was confusing. Many of the attackers were still disguised and it was dark. I thought these were rebels who wanted royal guards as prisoners to compel some sort of demand or ransom. I only realized the truth when I caught a glimpse of their leader''s glowing red eyes staring back from a distant tunnel. Before I could burn the witch to ash, it had disappeared.

    "I tried anyway. The flames splashed harmlessly against the bend. I tried until the air was stale and I was gasping for breath. I struggled until my hide was torn and bloody and my talons broke, but it was too much.

    "And the whole time I could hear its insane laugh echoing back to me. It laughed loud enough to be heard over the screams of the crew. As they were silenced, one after another.

    "They saved Lieutenant Taelor for last. I could hear the offer it made him. I believe I was meant to. It told him that he could keep his mind and continue to lead his crew if he donned a set of cursed armor and took up the mantle of a dark knight.

    "He told them to drown in hell. His screams..." Faelon''s voice caught, and he had to try again. "His screams were louder and longer than any of the others''.

    "And then it spoke to me."

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    A shudder went through the dragon. His breaths were coming faster now.

    "It used magic to speak to me. It offered me power and rewards if I joined willingly. And it told me that I would serve one way or another."

    His jaws ground together hard enough to crush boulders.

    Aytin couldn''t imagine what it must have been like. ''That could have been my family''s fate. Captured and corrupted. And what could darklings do with unhatched eggs?'' He shuddered at the thought.

    Faelon had paused once more. When it became obvious the dragon was lost in his dark memory, Aytin asked, "How did you make it out?"

    He got a sigh in return. "Luck. In my struggles, I must have shifted the rockslide. When the witch delivered its offer, I redoubled my efforts. Only rather than pushing to reach my crew, I was scrambling to escape. The rocks slid away and I could move.

    "The witch must have used a hidden side passage to get behind me. It was there, painting some sort of dark symbols on the tunnel floor and surrounded by a crowd of darklings. I recognized the armor on many of them. The weapons that they carried. Sergeant Zeph''s broken horn.

    "And I burned them all."

    There was silence between them, broken only by the whistle of wind through the canyon. Faelon looked like he had been carved out of some enormous block of red stone. He was staring out at the forest, not moving and clearly not seeing anything.

    Aytin stood and walked around the dragon until he was standing directly in front of his massive breast. Faelon did not move a muscle, save his chest. It rose and fell in irregular spasms.

    "Faelon," he said, reaching up with one hand. The dragon jerked when it came to rest on his neck. He looked down at the dragonette, nostrils flared and jaw clamped shut. "Faelon," Aytin repeated. "I... I can''t imagine what you''re feeling. But I think I know what it took for you to trust me with that memory. Thank you."

    He gave Faelon''s bulk a gentle shake; no more than a mouse might give a dragonette.

    But the dragon dipped his head in a silent nod. He opened his maw and took an enormous breath. The breeze when he exhaled set the grass waving like a windstorm. Then he returned to his vigil, and Aytin returned to his.

    It felt like saying anything would ruin the somber moment, but Aytin knew they had to keep talking. And so he asked, "Will you be alright?"

    "I have relived that day in my sleep countless times over the decades. I will be fine."

    "But how many times have you shared it?"

    "Three," he replied. "Once to Colonel Lidel and her staff. Once to Ivy and then to Reed. You are the fourth."

    "I... see. Thank you. I''ll keep your secret."

    Faelon turned to regard him. "It is no secret. It never was and it certainly is not now."

    "Then why-"

    "The more people who knew, the more questions they asked. That will not be a problem anymore."

    Once again, the frank way that Faelon referenced his death made Aytin wince. He wanted to try and talk the dragon out of it. Needed to. There had to be some argument to convince him to abandon revenge and slip off into the woods.

    They could survive for years together. And once Xantha and the brigands were gone, they could try to signal help. Nightly bonfires, stones arranged into messages big enough to be spotted from the air.

    Who knew? Maybe with enough study he could find something in Zan''s journal to heal his wing. Then he could fly for help. The last island they had been to was only a few hours away on dragonback. With some preparation, he could make that flight.

    "I think..." he began, but trailed off. The ideas that made so much sense in his mind didn''t want to become words. "I think if you just..."

    Aytin paused once more. ''Just what?'' What had he been about to say? ''Something about... flying?!''

    "Faelon, I think it''s here."

    He could recognize the presence, now that he knew what to look for. And it was getting stronger.

    "I feel it too," the dragon replied. "A... buzzing. In my mind."

    The forest took on a weird double vision effect. It was still there, but at the same time the shadows below began to twist and ripple, becoming a maze of caves with red eyes shining from within.

    Faelon rose slowly, carefully, into a half crouch while Aytin backed away. He was careful to stay clear of the massive red tail that twitched back and forth. The cliff was at his back as he retreated, and the feel of it alternated between the rough crumbling surface he remembered and the slimy gullet of some massive corrupted beast.

    It was getting harder to distinguish between the real and hallucinations. The darkness was growing, pushing against the world Aytin''s eyes showed him. Foreign thoughts bubbled through his head like it was a tankard of ale.

    Words were becoming difficult. Twice, he opened his mouth only for nothing to come out, before finally managing, "It cloak- close. It''s... close."

    That was all Faelon needed.

    The shadows boiled away under scorching dragonfire. Where moments before there had been a chill in the air, now even shielded as Aytin was, it felt like he was standing under a midsummer sun.

    Instantly, Aytin''s mind cleared. He could clearly see Faelon finish turning the narrow canyon into a furnace. The slight breeze redoubled, now a whistling draft that fed the flames, driving them towards the river.

    Faelon pushed forward along the empty creek bed that ran through the center of the canyon.

    Red dragons could handle fire and heat, but enough could overwhelm their resistance. The blaze he had started might be too much even for him. And he needed to breathe, just like everything else.

    So Faelon kept to the cleared areas as much as possible as he stalked forward. Every once in a while, he let loose with a jet of fire. The breath weapon, so much hotter and more concentrated than ordinary flames, would reduce the target to cinders.

    Something moved within the flames. A great winged beast exploded outwards and upwards, flying straight towards the heavens.

    "Faelon!"

    The shout was involuntary. There was no way the dragon could have missed it. And, yet, he didn''t seem to notice. Instead, he kept pushing forward, deeper into the flames.

    "Faelon!" he yelled, louder this time. But there was no response.

    Which was... wrong...

    Aytin''s heart dropped into his stomach. ''It''s still here!''

    There was no way. Absolutely no way it could have survived the flames. Was it behind them, closer to the river? ''No, if it could reach that far, I''d never have even caught a glimpse of it last night.''

    He tightened his grip on his bow and scanned the area. Nothing could have hidden between him and the flames. Unless it was an illusion? But Aytin found that he could easily differentiate between reality and the flashes of hallucination. Almost as if they were weaker than before, their source further away.

    Something caught his eye on the edge of the far cliffside. It was difficult to see, but a dark silhouette moved against the smoke-clouded sky.

    ''That... I think that''s real!'' Aytin was sure of it. And the black, quadrupedal figure matched his memories from the previous night.

    Cunning, Faelon had called it. Cunning enough to anticipate their trap, and set its own. Even now it was pacing the dragon as he pushed deeper into the flames. Perhaps far enough to be dangerous.

    There wasn''t time to plan. Aytin ran for the far side of the canyon, slinging his bow around his shoulder as he went. Whether from panic or the influence of the delerion, the dragonette leaped the final distance, extending his wings and beating hard.

    Instantly, searing pain shot through both membranes. For a split second, he was back there, Xantha standing over him, glowing knife in hand. Then reality reasserted itself as he slammed into the rock wall and scrambled for purchase.

    Showers of scree fell as he dug talons into soft, crumbling rock. One hand came loose as the root he latched onto tore free, but the rest held. With a grimace, he reached up with his free hand and began to climb.

    Without a magical sense of balance, Aytin would have ended up broken and bleeding at the cliff-bottom any of half a dozen times. More chunks of rock gave way. In one place, there were no hand holds and he was forced to edge along until he found a new route. He even found himself reaching for a knotted rope, only to realize at the last instant that there was nothing there.

    Despite it all, he fairly flew up the cliff. It was a matter of seconds before he pulled himself over one final ledge and onto the plateau above.

    His lungs burned and heart hammered, but Aytin forced himself to his knees and then his feet.

    The delerion was there, a short, blackened shape staring down into the canyon below. Beyond it, clouds of smoke tried to shift into monsters and demons.

    Aytin ignored the hallucinations. He pulled his single arrow from where it was stuffed in his belt and nocked it.

    The range was long. Not beyond that of a skilled archer, but well past the point he could guarantee a hit. Especially in the state he was in.

    It hadn''t noticed him yet, apparently still intent on Faelon. He could close the distance, unobserved.

    Aytin crept forward, balancing speed and stealth. And as he moved, reality began to twist around him.

    It was easy to ignore at first. A direwolf prowled out of a rock to snarl at him. A sudden wave of sweet smelling cider splashed across the cliff to wash it away. Thoughts suggested themselves to him. That he should fly back to the keep to get his missing knife. Or if he only called out, a squadron of royal guard would be there in moments.

    Aytin managed to unravel the real from the hallucinations. It took effort, but at this point he had practice. He could tell the subtle differences between what he saw and what the magic was telling his mind.

    But as he closed the distance, that was getting harder.

    His vision swam. Suddenly, where the delerion had stood a moment before, there was a tall, white armored dragonette with a copper band around one horn. A huntress.

    It was Lin. Lin was standing there on the cliff edge. She turned and smiled at him, like she was overjoyed to see him there, aiming an arrow at her stomach. And... and Aytin couldn''t remember why that was wrong.

    "Tintin!" she exclaimed, and held her arms out for him.

    Aytin relaxed his grip and let the bow point to the ground. He felt his own grin mirror his sister''s as he got ready to meet her embrace.

    The world faded for a moment. Superimposed with his sister was a four-legged black beast, turning to regard him with hate-filled eyes. An angry line of red marred its flank, a token from their last meeting.

    Rage ignited inside of Aytin''s chest, with the burning intensity of one of Faelon''s breaths. His bow snapped up of its own volition, pointed right at the delerion''s chest as he snarled, "Fuck... you..."

    He loosed the arrow. And this time, it flew true.

    Lin''s visage popped like a soap bubble. One instant she was there, the next, it was gone. In its place, the delerion let out an otherworldly spitting howl of rage and pain. The scream quickly died in a wet, choking cough as blood flooded its lungs.

    Teeth bared, ears pegged back, Aytin sprinted forward. His hand fell to his hunting knife and he drew it just in time to plunge the blade into the delerion''s still heaving chest.

    Red, mammalian blood gushed from the wound, and Aytin stabbed it again. And again. It screeched once more, in animalistic pain. The scream ended when the knife found its throat. A gush of ruby blood soaked the dragonette before diminishing to a trickle as its heart ceased to beat.

    Aytin stood, panting and looking down at the corpse. His hands shook as he wiped his blade on his filthy shirt.

    It was over.

    "Not yet."

    The dark voice of corruption whispered through Aytin''s mind. He jumped, whirling, hunting frantically for its source. There was nothing on the wind swept wasteland of icy rock and snow. Below him, the delerion melted into a black tar that covered his talons. The darkness began to spread, climbing his legs and leaving the ashen scales of a darkling in its wake.

    "Noooo..." Aytin whimpered.

    It... wasn''t... real...

    He pushed back against the fake vision. As if from a great distance, he could faintly hear Faelon calling for him. Things swam in and out of focus, replaced from one moment to the next. But through it all, he managed to pick out one thing. On the far side of the canyon, staring at him across the gap, was a second delerion.

    Aytin tried to speak. He tried to call for Faelon. But under the full psychic assault of the beast, it was no use.

    And it would be so easy to slip into the insane illogic of it all. An insidious voice whispered to him that he should just give in. It would be easier. Everything would make sense again.

    "No. No! Gods, help me, no!"

    For a brief moment, he pushed through the hallucinations. He could see the other delerion. It seemed close enough he could have hit it with a rock, much less an arrow. An arrow...

    The other body was still there. It still had an arrow stuck in its side. Aytin''s hands scrambled for the blood slicked shaft. It emerged with a sickening squelch, and black bugs flooded out from the wound to cover his arms. They... they weren''t real.

    But it didn''t matter.

    The shaft had hit bone. It was snapped, the iron point held on only by a few splinters of wood. Broken. Useless.

    If an animal could feel joy, this one certainly did. Hallucination or reality, Aytin couldn''t tell. He just knew that the beast seemed to smile malevolently at him, its two dark antennae waving in pleasure at the sight of its prey''s futile struggle.

    It was hard to tell which of them were more shocked when an arrow sprouted from its back.

    The beast spun, illusions shattering as it prepared to fight or flee. Before it could take a single step, a blue and white blur flashed by.

    When it passed, it left behind a short spear, buried deep into the delerion''s flank. It took a stumbling step forward, then another. For a moment, the pressure returned to Aytin''s mind and its eyes seemed to glow red.

    But all at once, the light left the delerion''s eyes. It collapsed, and its body tumbled from the cliff edge. The corpse had time to spin twice before it slammed into the ground with a crunch like wet fruit hitting firewood.

    Aytin took an involuntary step back as the flying figure circled around and turned directly towards him. But at the last moment, the dragonette flared her wings. She came to a running stop less than an arm''s length away from the frozen Aytin.

    And there his savior stood, staring.

 Interlude 4: A Simple Patrol

    All in all, it was a beautiful day to be flying. The late spring sun chased away any lingering chill, and what little wind there was came from behind. A handful of puffy white clouds were scattered across the skies, promising brief moments of shade but not a hint of storms.

    Faelon beat his wings in a slow, steady cadence. Several members of his crew were flying nearby, and he didn''t want to leave them behind. Nor was there anywhere he needed to be in a hurry. This was just a patrol.

    ''A very long patrol.''

    One of the nearby dragonettes banked until he was just above and ahead of the young red. He wore light plate armor of the royal guard and the insignia of an officer.

    "How are you doing there, Faelon? Do you see anything?"

    "I see quite a few things, Lieutenant Taelor. I see trees. I see cliffs. And if I look down, I can even see the ocean."

    They were flying just off the edge of a small island, land to their left and empty sky to the right. Small was, of course, relative when it came to islands. This one was still wide enough that Faelon couldn''t see the far edge, and his eyes were sharper than any of his crew''s. Which was at least partly why the lieutenant had asked the question.

    "Good. Good. I have to make a note of that in my report. The major wants to know every detail." Taelor delivered the line with a straight face, but there were laughs from the nearby crew.

    Faelon wasn''t done yet, though. "Lieutenant, over the course of this deployment, the most exciting thing we have seen was that wind-blown trader over a week ago. There is no sign of brigands. Not even an old fire pit."

    "You''ve been part of the royal guard long enough to know it''s not all pitched battles and victory feasts."

    "Except this is just a waste." The young red dragon flexed his enormous claws, like he was preparing to dig them into an invisible enemy. "If they have managed to avoid four dragons for over two weeks, they have moved on."

    "And maybe when we check in tonight, one of the other groups will have found them." The lieutenant glanced back in the direction of camp. Their half of the wing was operating out of a nearby island, returning every night to check in.

    Technically, the pair was supposed to be flying together, but day after day of coming up empty had changed that. Lieutenant Raleigh had certainly been happy enough to take Noya and the rest of her crew on their own patrol. The blue dragon seemed to resent being partnered with a lumbering red, anyway.

    "Besides," he continued. "Traders are going missing. Would you rather fly escort through this region for the next decade? Or maybe you want to carry the cargo yourself?"

    Faelon snorted. "I would sooner be caught dead than in a trader''s harness."

    "Then maybe spend more time paying attention to the skies and less time grumbling about your job."

    "Grumbling? Is that what you think is grumbling?" Two dragonettes taking a nap on the dragon''s back suddenly jerked awake as their ride trembled in a deep, bone rattling rumble. "Now," he said as the noise receded, "that was grumbling."

    The dragonettes in their oversized crew laughed, and Lieutenant Taelor smiled and shook his head. "I stand corrected. My mistake."

    "How long do we stay out here, then?"

    That question came from one of the newer members of his crew. A woman by the name of Naz. From anyone else, it might have sounded like a complaint. Except, her tone didn''t sound like she was concerned about the time spent out here on the tail end of beyond.

    Faelon recalled hearing her tell stories about her posting to one of the northern fortresses. About the relentless cold that seeped through even the thickest stone and past the fiercest fires. Not being able to fly for months without heat leaking out of wings like blood from a severed limb. And despite protective gear and every precaution, losing a toe to frostbite during her time in the frozen hellscape.

    Even on this warm day, she still wore a faded blue woolen scarf. The embroidered birds and deer and dragons were apparently her own work, and she didn''t want to give up her favorite accessory just because the weather had taken a turn for the better.

    ''I can see how she would prefer this, even if it is dull.''

    "We stay as long as the lieutenant and the major say we stay," Sergeant Grange called out. "So if you want to sleep in a bed with a roof over it, keep your eyes open!"

    "I just want to get away from Faelon''s snoring!" another soldier - Jinzin by the sound of it - shouted.

    "You are welcome to pitch your tent on the far side of camp."

    "I''d have to pitch it on the far side of the island," the private shot back.

    More laughter followed and Faelon looked just a little bit dejected. "I do not snore that badly. Do I?"

    Lieutenant Taelor came to his rescue. "I think that Jinzin just isn''t tired enough to sleep properly. How about an extra watch or two, private?"

    "I think I''ll be fine, sir!"

    "There, see? Not that bad after all."

    Faelon snorted, but his eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon. Then he shifted slightly, angling just a little further to the left. His next wing beat was deeper than the last, propelling him forward and forcing the cloud of dragonettes to struggle to match the new pace.

    "What''s happening?" the lieutenant demanded. "Do you see something?"

    "I think..." Faelon was silent for a moment, intent on some point in the distance. Suddenly his lips pulled back, exposing sharp, ivory fangs in a draconic grin. "There are dragonettes out there."

    Taelor didn''t waste time. "Everyone, get on. Now!" Putting actions to words, he alighted onto the dragon''s harness and started hunting through bags.

    Had this been a patrol out of some settlement or going into battle against a known foe, Faelon might have worn his armor. The steel plate and mail was horrendously expensive and only protected his vitals, but it could turn a lancer''s spear and would even give a few moments of protection against some breath weapons.

    It was also heavy, and would slow him to a relative crawl. Reds were already the largest and slowest of the dragons, and he would have been hard pressed to maintain a useful pace for long weighted down like that.

    So Faelon wore little more than a leather harness. Just enough to secure the crew¡¯s gear. Tents, rations, cookware, medical supplies, spare weapons, and armor. Everything his oversized crew needed for this mission.

    Lieutenant Taelor finally found what he was looking for, withdrawing a stubby cylinder from a padded wooden tube. Lacking any dragonettes with magically enhanced vision, they had been issued a single spyglass. It was far too precious to be used in situations where it might be lost or damaged, but the lieutenant put it to good use then, pointing it along Faelon''s neck and towards the distant cliff.

    "Where do you see them?" he asked, scanning carefully for anything out of place.

    "Do you see the bare point of white rock?"

    A moment passed, and then, "I see it."

    "Look a scale''s breadth further past that. Four dragonettes, flying towards us just above the trees. They are not far from the edge and-"

    "I see them," Taelor declared. "Very good eyes."

    "Traders, maybe?" Sergeant Grange asked. "Or wildlings?"

    "Could be traders, but I think I see a glimmer of armor."

    "They are definitely armored," Faelon confirmed. With the crew fully embarked, he was increasing his speed. Reds might not be fast, but there wasn''t a dragonette alive who could hope to match one in a long, level flight.

    "Circle wide and get some altitude," Lieutenant Taelor ordered. "The edge of this island is pretty jagged. I don''t want them ducking out of sight around some cliff."

    Without a word, Faelon obeyed, banking to the right and angling upwards. At this distance, even a dragon would be difficult to spot, although his crimson hide stood out against the white clouds and blue sky like a ruby among lapis. Thankfully the distant dragonettes appeared to be focusing straight ahead because it was several minutes before they changed course.

    "Shit, they''re turning around," Taelor muttered. Then, louder, he added, "I think they''ve seen us."

    "I am certain that they have," Faelon added a heartbeat later. "They are flying faster than before."

    He was already turning inwards, angling to intercept them. With his massive wingspan and respectable altitude advantage, there would be no escape.

    "Even fleeing, they could still be traders thinking we''re the brigands," Grange noted. His commander raised an eyeridge and the sergeant shook his head. "I don''t think it''s likely, but it''s possible."

    "You have a point. Let''s unfurl the pennant."

    Moments later, the insignia of the royal guard was streaming out from behind Faelon on a weighted line. It, too, might be faked, but a lost trader might be just a little less wary of someone flying the flag of the kingdom''s premiere armed forces.

    "No change," Grange noted a few minutes later. They were close enough for the dragonettes of the crew to easily pick the distant fliers out against the edge of the island. "And they''re being stupid. If they had ducked into those trees when they first saw us, they might''ve gotten away."

    "Probably panicked," Taelor said. "Or running for reinforcements. They have to have a dragon of their own. So keep your eyes open and watch for anything!" The last was addressed to the rest of the crew, who had finished preparing for combat and had weapons at the ready. Those whose eyes had been glued to their fleeing prey quickly turned to scan the skies for signs of ambush, eyeing any cloud or cliff that might hide an attacker.

    But as they closed, it became apparent that nothing was waiting for them. No dragons came swooping in as they closed. There wasn''t a swarm of lancers ready to throw themselves into the fray. Not even a squad of archers flew to meet them.

    "Must be scouts," Grange commented as they closed in from behind.

    Faelon had slightly misjudged their speed so it wasn''t a clean intercept. Not that it would matter. The distance between the two groups was shrinking with every heartbeat.

    "Don''t think they''re traders anymore?" Lieutenant Taelor asked.

    He got a head shake in response. "Not a chance. I think they actually sped up when they saw our flag."

    "You said earlier that they were stupid. Stupid enough to lead us back to their hideout, you think?"

    Grange rubbed the brass cap that covered the stump of his right horn. "Might be they are. Or they''re loyal as well as stupid, and they''ve been leading us away from their pals the whole time."

    "Well, we''ll just have to ask them when we catch up. So don''t burn them out of the sky, please?"

    "I will... do my best," Faelon said between breaths. ''I am glad this is nearly over. I do not think that I could burn them. Not right now.''

    They weren''t far outside of the range of a good bowshot when, as one, the quartet of fleeing dragonettes dove straight down. In an instant, they disappeared, blocked from view by a jutting cliff.

    It was only a few heartbeats before Faelon overflew the cliff, but by then the sky was empty. Without waiting for orders, he pivoted right into a dive. Air rushed by and the soldiers held on tight as they went momentarily weightless.

    Jagged cliff walls flashed by, studded with the odd bush or mineral vein. Everyone hunted for a hint of blue and white hiding in some sheltered alcove. They saw nothing as the cliff fell away to reveal the shadowed underbelly of the island.

    "Everyone, off!" Lieutenant Taelor ordered, and the entire crew spread into the sky. "Search this cliff from bottom to top! They''re here somewhere."

    "And stay with your wingmates!" Sergeant Grange barked. "Find anything, you back off and call for help!"

    Everyone angled upwards and outwards, making close passes by the cliff edge, hunting for hidden fissures or shaded alcoves.

    Faelon circled, watching the teams and scanning the cliff for any sign of recent disturbance. The whole group ascended slowly. Occasionally there was a shout of triumph, but always quickly accompanied by disappointed cursing as whatever had been found turned out to be a false alarm.

    They were halfway to the top when Faelon noticed something. "Those bushes," he called, jerking his head towards a wide clump of browning vegetation growing on a flat outcropping. Changing course, he circled back while ordering, "Someone check over there."

    Naz and her partner were nearest. They alighted on the ledge and a moment later she shouted, "There''s a cave back here! A big one!"

    In the span of moments, the entire unit converged on the spot. The wilted brush was dragged away. Behind that, the patch of cliff face was far too flat. A poke revealed it to be some sort of mud daubed cloth that hid the opening from casual notice.

    "Alright everyone, close order drill. Shields and spears. Get the oil lamps set on Faelon. Me, Sergeant Grange, and Corporal Neel will carry torches. We''re going to hit these people and we''re going to hit them now."

    The soldiers scrambled to obey, stripping gear off of Faelon''s bulk and preparing for fighting in the dark cave. There were fourteen of them, not including their dragon, and while few were combat veterans they were well drilled.

    "Got a moment, sir?" Sergeant Grange asked as the others prepared.

    "Of course. If you''ll step into my office?" The lieutenant''s wry grin faded as his second failed to laugh at the joke. Recovering, he motioned off to one side, out of the way of the troops but close enough to Faelon to include the dragon in the conversation.

    "I think we should wait for reinforcements." Grange said without preamble. " Either send Faelon back to meet Lieutenant Raligh or wait for her to come and find us. We don''t know what they have waiting in there for us."

    "That''s exactly why we''re not going to wait. We''re going to smash them here and now!" The officer slammed fist into palm for emphasis. "If we give them time, let them get fortified, the wing will have to pay in blood to dig them out."

    The sergeant kept at it. "We will be paying in blood if we go in alone."

    "Probably," Taelor acknowledged and his cheerful enthusiasm dimmed. "If it looks bad, we have Faelon. In a tunnel, his fire would stop anything short of another red."

    "Even a red," the dragon added, quietly. "We may resist fire, but we still have to breathe."

    "Which would give us long enough for us to retreat if we had to."

    "Yes, sir. I just don''t think it''s worth the risk when we already have them bottled up."

    Lieutenant Taelor raised one eye ridge. "Who says we have them bottled up? For all we know, this cliff could be riddled with exits, and they''ll just fly out of one while we sit here. In fact, I''d leave a few scouts to watch for just that if we had the people for it."

    Sergeant Grange gave a grudging nod, but he didn''t look happy. His commander clapped him on the back and gave a tight smile. "I''m not going to throw all our lives away for the glory of killing a few brigands, and I''m not above turning tail if things look bad. But this is a risk we have to take, before those scouts report and they get organized."

    By then, the preparations were long completed. Troops were starting to eye their leaders nervously, shifting wings and feet as they waited for orders.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    With time running out and his superior refusing to budge, there wasn''t anything for Grange to do but salute and give the unit a final inspection.

    Privately, Faelon agreed with the lieutenant. The tunnel was only just wide enough for him to move through it comfortably. A bigger dragon would be handicapped by its size, and he was willing to go tooth to claw against any dragon that could fit inside of that cave.

    ''I wouldn''t want to face a green or black down there, though. Poison and acid in close quarters...'' He had to suppress a shudder at the thought. ''But Lieutenant Taelor is right. If they have time to prepare, it will be worse. Much worse.''

    Faelon extended his neck into the cavern and flared his nostrils. He could smell the odor of rock dust and the faint trace of dragonettes. No other dragons.

    It was far from definitive. There was almost certainly at least one of his kind involved in any attack that could waylay traders. With a constant breeze and nothing for the scent to stick to, it wouldn''t take long to fade, either.

    The lack of any immediate threat was still a weight off of Faelon''s back as he led the way into the darkness, path lit by the five oil lanterns fixed to his harness.

    Enchanted lights would have been better. They were also expensive. Oil lamps dispelled the worst of the gloom, and if they spilled, well, it was only oil. The worst that it could do to him was leave a patch of strong smelling soot.

    Once inside, the cave widened further. There was enough room for two dragonettes to walk abreast next to the dragon. A squad of four did just that, moving two by two with Sergeant Grange backing them up.

    They advanced quickly, but carefully. Silence was impossible and surprise was a forgone conclusion, but they still did their best to step quietly, straining to catch the clink of weapons or whispered orders that might betray an upcoming ambush. Even Faelon made little noise. Despite his size, he could move with surprising grace when he needed to, talons barely clicking against the rough stone floor.

    It was quickly clear that this passage wasn''t natural. Or if it was, someone had spent a lot of effort enlarging it. Regular slots of an unknown purpose dotted the walls. The central path was relatively flat, too regular to be natural. Tool marks marred the stone everywhere they looked.

    Ancient mines dotted the islands, and this was probably one of them. Which meant that the lieutenant had been right, and they needed to move fast, because there were doubtless places in this warren that could be turned into death traps.

    While none of the dragonettes had magically enhanced vision, Sergeant Grange could hear a whispered conversation from the far end of a barracks, much to the dismay of many a scheming private. The column stopped briefly at regular intervals, with everyone else staring off into darkness while he tried to pick out sounds over the clink of shifting armor and ragged breathing of nervous soldiers.

    The tunnel curved slightly, and the distant glimmer of daylight disappeared. Their group became an island of light in the pitch darkness.

    When a stone clattered in the distance, every single guardsman froze. Even Faelon briefly imitated a ruby statue, one foreleg raised as Grange strained to catch the barest hint of what was ahead. Hands tightened around weapons at the prospect of an ambush.

    Eventually he shook his head and tapped the shoulder of the next dragonette in line. The cautious advance resumed.

    As they pushed into the bowels of the island, the endless void split. A pair of side tunnels branched off from the central passage. They were smaller than their original path, but just large enough that Faelon could still fit through.

    "Hold here."

    The softly hissed order came from behind. In the near silence of the mines, it might as well have been a shout.

    Faelon shifted forward, moving to a point where he could look down any of the three branches. At the first sign of any trouble, he could turn any one of them into a furnace as hot as a blacksmith''s forge.

    From behind, he could just make out the whispered conversation between the lieutenant and sergeant.

    Grange didn''t wait for his superior to speak. "We need more troops to clear this place."

    "We have to be close. As soon as this cavern opens up, that''s where they''ll have camped."

    "And if that were nearby, I''d hear them. Probably not the only one, either." He shot a pointed glance towards their dragon, who blinked back at them.

    Both were silent for a moment, and then Lieutenant Taelor asked, "What would you do?"

    "Back off and bottle them up," the other responded, instantly. "Faelon can burn anything coming out of the tunnel. Then we send out patrols to keep an eye out for anyone sneaking away. There might be other exits, but they can''t be far off. We''ll spot them."

    For his part, Lieutenant Taelor didn''t hesitate. "Okay, you were right. This is too big for just us. But I''m not leaving without getting something for the major. Can we figure out which of those tunnels they''ve been using?"

    "Maybe," Grange replied, a little bit of tension leaving his voice. After a moment, he ordered, "Naz, come with me."

    The pair passed by Faelon, shortly followed by the lieutenant and about half of the guardsmen. The latter spread out behind the two scouts as they examined the tunnels.

    Naz had spent her early years training to be a huntress. It hadn''t worked out, but she was still the closest thing they had to a tracker. She crouched down, just inside of the rightmost tunnel and examined the floor as the sergeant held out his torch for light.

    "Someone has been here," she said, almost instantly.

    "Footprints?" Lieutenant Taelor asked, looking over her shoulder much to Grange''s obvious annoyance.

    But she shook her head. "No, and that''s the strange part. There should be, but there''s no dust. The tunnel''s full of it." The scout waved a hand back where they came. "There''s scrapes here, though. New ones. Drag marks and... something else."

    Now that he knew what to look for, Faelon could see what she was talking about. There were long lines etched into the floor, and discolored spots slightly higher. Places where stone might have chipped away, newer than the marks that the ancient miners had left. In the flickering light, he could pick out similar signs in both of the other passages.

    Sergeant Grange suddenly stiffened, ears pricking straight up. A moment later he spun, eyes wide. "Lieutenant, we have to-"

    Before he could finish, a crimson light flashed along the roof of the tunnel. It followed one particular line, and moved almost faster than the eye could follow. As it passed above the group, a wave of power washed over them, invisible but felt almost as a blast of frigid air pressing them to the floor.

    Then, with an explosive crack, the ceiling collapsed.

    The magical pressure was replaced by the crushing weight of an entire island collapsing onto Faelon''s back. He screamed in surprise and pain as the rock drove him down, burying his chest and hindquarters in rubble.

    Most of the lanterns were smashed. One shattered, spilling oil across Faelon''s hide and briefly illuminating the scene through billowing clouds of choking dust.

    Shapes and figures slowly resolved themselves out of the chaos. Lots of figures. More than there should have been.

    A cry of pain went up. Fresh pain. Followed by shouts and screams and the impact of metal on metal.

    Something moved in the left tunnel. Faelon didn''t hesitate before loosing a burst of dragonfire down the passage. The crushing pressure on his back reduced it to a fraction of what it could have been. But a fraction of an inferno was still enough to immolate those attackers.

    It wasn''t enough to stop the rest.

    The burst of fire had drawn a draft from somewhere and cleared dust from the air. Dozens fought in the flickering light. Most of those visible weren''t wearing the uniform of the royal guard. They wore everything from a trader escort''s light armor to ragged clothes fit for a frontier dweller.

    A section of wall crumbled, edges gleaming wetly in the flickering flames. More attackers emerged, covered in dust and stumbling slightly as they took in the scene.

    ''They must have cut alcoves into the walls and had their fellows seal them inside,'' a part of Faelon''s mind realized.

    This group came out behind the melee and training took over. Faelon darted his head forward to lock crushing jaws around one of the trio and then whipped his head violently. The neck of his victim snapped as he was slammed into his fellows. They went flying, landing in crumpled heaps to either side.

    He spat out the corpse and searched for more, but the fighting had moved beyond his reach. What little fighting was left.

    A handful of bodies lay on the ground, all in the mismatched garb of the unknown attackers. The rest were retreating up the tunnels, forms of guardsmen both struggling and not dragged along with them.

    It made no sense. Not for brigands attacking traders. Literally burying their fellows in the rock for an ambush. And a magical ambush! No group of common criminals would have those resources or take those risks.

    ''At least, we thought that they were criminals. What if...''

    Terror filled the dragon and his frantic gaze locked on the closest body. In the dying light of the puddles of dragonfire and a single flickering lantern, he could just make out the body of a young male, covered with gray rock dust and leaking blue blood around a spear still buried in his gut.

    Only, it wasn''t rock dust that covered him. It only looked that way in the dim light. But the dusting was too even, from taloned feet to darkened wing membranes to the tips of his horns. It wasn''t dust.

    The darkness of corruption. Of a darkling.

    Faelon jerked up, head whipping back and forth. There was nothing. No one. He was alone, save for the fading echoes of moans and clatter of armor on stone.

    It couldn''t be. Those dragonettes they had chased weren''t darklings! A leather clad body seemed to confirm that, pure white hide and blue scales from nose to tail.

    Except, up close, the white and blue seemed to blend together unnaturally. Patches of white dotted the underside of the wings and the blue bled out from its chest scales. Almost like... paint.

    "No..." he whimpered, searching desperately for any sign of his crew. A survivor, hidden by bodies or rubble.

    There was none.

    "No. No. No no no no no no no NONONO!"

    The light of the fires faded. Only a single oil lamp strapped to the base of Faelon''s neck remained, struggling to push back the darkness. And in the distance, a pair of red embers emerged from the inky black void.

    Faint, he almost missed them in his panic. A trick of the light, odd reflections, an afterimage. Except there they remained, bobbing slightly among the nothingness and occasionally flickering, but never fading away.

    They were the glowing red eyes of one not simply a victim of corruption, but who had embraced it. A dark knight... or a witch.

    Terror turned to rage. Faelon''s maw opened wide and a blast of fire emerged. When his lungs were empty, he took as deep a breath as he could manage and let loose another burst of dragonfire.

    This one was weaker than before. The one that followed burned with no more intensity than a good sized bonfire. He tried for a fourth. Only, as he gasped for breath, a desperate instinct screamed for more. The air around stank from smoke and couldn''t quench the burning in his lungs.

    Faelon felt his muscles trembling. He tried to hold his head up.

    It was no use. He slumped, snorting great gasps of air that did nothing to fight the blackness creeping into the edges of his vision.

    The sound of distant laughter followed him as the world faded away.

    Time passed. How long was impossible to say. Faelon never slipped into unconsciousness. Not completely. He just existed in an air-starved daze, mind filled with fog, panting as the final lantern dimmed, sputtered, and died away.

    It was the screaming that finally brought him back to reality. Screaming and a high, piercing laugh.

    Faelon thrashed, fighting against the pounding in his head and the rocks still piled on top of him. It did little good. His tail was free, and his rear legs could move. They were splayed, though, unable to support him.

    Rocks shifted, clattering down the pile. Faelon twisted, finding that despite the extinguished lanterns, he could faintly see. Lines of dim illumination ran along the ceiling. ''Residual magic? Some mineral?'' He didn''t know, nor did he care.

    The cave-in had left a gap in the roof. It wasn''t the whole island''s weight on his back. It only felt like it. And if he could only work himself free...

    Another scream shattered the silence. It sounded broken. Animalistic. A cry of terror and pain beyond anything Faelon had ever heard before.

    The sound seemed to surround him. It didn''t echo. It was simply in his ears. In his mind. And then it chopped off, with terrible finality. Moments later it was replaced by more laughter, this time a darkly satisfied chuckle.

    Then silence, once again.

    It was enough to drive any vestige of reason out of Faelon''s mind. Legs larger than tree trunks scrambled and strained. His body shook, trying to worm out of the pile, to push forward into the tunnel beyond.

    More screams invaded his mind. Two distinct voices, this time. Male and female. Wordless cries of soul-rending agony. And accompanied by a purr of deepest pleasure.

    "Gods help me!" Faelon prayed. "Kalador! Tula! Give me strength! Help me fight these servants of darkness!"

    "The gods won''t come for you." The words oozed into his mind like rancid oil. "Your friends begged for their help. None came. Among the darkness, light is weak."

    Faelon couldn''t accept that. Wouldn''t accept that. He pushed and shook and strained. Screams and laughter were his only reward. They went on and on, sometimes disappearing for what could have been minutes or hours before returning to that terrible silence.

    All the while, Faelon struggled. Thrashing and pushing and twisting. But even a dragon has his limits, and those struggles slowly began to weaken, until finally they ceased altogether.

    That was when the voice spoke once more.

    "They can still be yours."

    Exhausted and panting, Faelon still managed to gather enough energy to roar, "Cease your magic and come where I can see you, witch!"

    There was no sign that the agent of corruption heard him. It continued, apparently oblivious. "You led them before. You can again. It is easy. Rewarding. I have the lichplate right here."

    Now it was clear who the witch was talking to. "Lieutenant! Lieutenant Taelor!" Faelon''s shout echoed up and down the tunnels in a deafening cacophony. It did nothing to drown out the magical speech invading his mind.

    "You would keep your mind. Your soul. And the enchantments on this armor are powerful. Maybe powerful enough that you could challenge me. How does that sound?"

    Another pause, and Faelon ground his teeth and gritted his eyes as he strained forward one more time.

    "A pity."

    The screams were louder this time. They filled his mind and replaced any rational thought. Faelon could feel himself burning. Charring. Down to his very soul.

    Then it was over. Silence returned. Silence quickly broken by the cruel voice as it addressed the dragon once more.

    "You are a fine specimen, yes? Young. Full of potential."

    Faelon grunted and struggled. Something shifted and he felt a flash of hope, only for a jagged rock to dig into his shoulder. A moment later, wobbling forelegs gave way and the dragon collapsed onto the hard stone.

    "We could use that potential. You would make for an excellent shadowdrake. A pity about your pretty scales. Crimson is such a wonderful color. Still, the sacrifice is nothing compared to the rewards."

    "Nooooo..." He meant for it to be a growl of defiance, but it tapered off into an exhausted whine.

    "Are you suuuure?" The magic burrowed that word into Faelon''s mind. "You''ll serve one way or another. The only question is how tight your bonds will be? A mere harness of silken enchantments? Or must they be fetters of cursed adamantine?"

    The dragon shut his eyes tight, body shuddering, breaths coming in shallow pants.

    "You doubt my word? Don''t. It''s a pity I couldn''t make this offer to the dragons that came before you, but a camp at night is hardly the best place for such a talk. This is so much more fitting, wouldn''t you say?"

    He said nothing. The rubble pressed down on him. Imprisoning him for a fate worse than death.

    ''The air... I could burn the air...''

    The tunnels were wide. As before, air would flow to replace what his fire consumed. He would have to let loose a massive gout, right at his feet. Hot enough to burn even him, and starve him of air until his body gave out.

    ''Better this way.''

    Only when he drew in a deep breath in preparation, he found he couldn''t. Rocks had shifted. His massive chest could barely move. Instead of a great burst of flames, only a dribble of liquid fire spattered the rock in front of him.

    The witch went on, seemingly oblivious.

    "They were kind enough to lend me their blood. Delightful stuff, dragon''s blood. The perfect conduit for magic. Enough to bind even you."

    Faelon tried to shift the rocks. Tried to make enough of a gap for one single breath. ''Gods, please, just one breath! Just one.''

    It wasn''t working. It was getting tighter. The rubble was pressing closer. Crushing him. Holding him.

    "So which will it be? Power? Wealth? The chance to live a life of service rather than slavery? Or must I chain your will until you''re nothing more than a puppet dancing on my strings?"

    He couldn''t answer. He wanted to reject the offer. Wanted to break free. Wanted to die. Wanted to live!

    In the end, the great red dragon could only whimper and shake.

    It went on for some time as the witch waited. Eventually, a sigh of satisfaction flowed through the magical link. "Broken already? I can work with that. Yes, I can work with that. Now, don''t you go anywhere. This won''t take long. Once the ritual is done, I''ll get you out of there, don''t you worry!"

    The witch''s voice ceased. The faint light faded. Faelon never realized it. He had his eyes clamped shut, trembling.

    Did something brush across his tail? He jerked away, expecting the burn of corruption at any moment. He was rewarded with a small avalanche of rocks burying his neck and shoulders.

    There was a sound in the darkness, audible over the hammering of Faelon''s heart. Scraping. Rustling. Muted words.

    His eyes snapped open and he whipped his head left and right. Something solid slammed against it. A dislodged boulder, invisible in the impenetrable blackness.

    ''They are out there! They are coming!''

    One more burst of terror shot through the dragon. Before, he had channeled that terror into anger. It had driven him forward. To feel the witch''s bones snap between his jaws.

    Now, though, his great legs scrambled to push him back. Away from the oncoming horror.

    More rocks tumbled, smashing against his neck and cracking off of his horns. The pain didn''t register. Not through the haze of fear.

    One of Faelon''s kicking rear feet suddenly caught. Just a toe, at first. Then another. Then the whole foot was flat against the ground.

    The pile of rocks continued to shift, faster now that the dragon had leverage. That leverage grew as he got his last foot underneath and pushed.

    With a thundering crash like some enormous waterfall, debris cascaded up and down the tunnel.

    He could move! He was free!

    Faelon spun and was nearly blinded by light. He blinked, eyes adjusting from the pitch blackness as the scene before him finally registered.

    Illuminated by the unwavering glow of enchanted lights, frozen figures filled the passage. They stared at him with empty, coal black eyes among a sea of ashen gray bodies.

    There was more uniformity in this mass of darklings than the ambushers. Fully half of them wore the armor of the royal guard. Scraped and damaged and spattered with blue stains, but recognizable all the same.

    And so were the wearers.

    A broken horn capped in brass. An embroidered blue scarf. The insignia of a lieutenant.

    Scars and weapons and jewelry and faces that he had seen hundreds of times. Every detail burned into his memory like a white hot brand.

    And behind them all, one figure stood with faintly glowing red eyes and a slender band of gold and mithril atop its head. The only one moving among dozens, backing towards a newly revealed hole in the tunnel wall, fear clear on her face against the flicker of dragon flame.

    Faelon didn''t hesitate. He drew in a great breath and opened his maw and unleashed a torrent of dragonfire.

    And everything turned to flame.

 Chapter 25: Winds of Change

    Aytin couldn''t help it. After all of the false visions, reality and delusion were too hard to separate.

    He stretched a hand out to touch the dragonette in front of him.

    Before he could reach her roughly tanned leather jacket, she knocked his hand aside. The swat was accompanied by what he could only assume was a hissed curse followed by a stream of incomprehensible gibberish.

    "What?"

    Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at him. She towered over him, just like most dragonettes. His horns only came up to a little above her chin.

    She said something, more slowly this time. The words... they sounded wrong. He thought he could recognize a few sounds. Little bits, here and there. But they were sharper than he was used to, punctuated by the odd clack as she snapped her jaws.

    "I... I don''t understand?"

    Her glare made it clear that she thought he was some kind of idiot. One hand shot out and grabbed Aytin''s wrist in an iron grip and she dragged him towards the edge of the cliff.

    For a terrifying moment, Aytin thought that she was going to hurl him off the edge. The way his life had gone, it wouldn''t have surprised him for an instant.

    But she stopped just short and gestured at the burning forest below. He might not have been able to understand the words that followed, but the flat stare that came after made the question clear.

    "Um... yeah. That was me," he admitted, sheepishly. "Well, me and Faelon. Mostly Faelon. He''s a dragon."

    Aytin realized he probably wasn''t making sense to the other dragonette. But to his surprise, her expression changed. Her eye ridges furrowed and ears flicked as she said something that was very close to, "Dragon?"

    "Yeah. He''s-"

    At that moment, a roar echoed through the canyon.

    Faelon erupted from the smoke and flames. His sides were heaving and his red scales were stained dark with smoke. Nonetheless, he struck a formidable sight as he roared, "AYTIN!!!"

    "Up here!"

    The dragon snapped his head up to see Aytin waving from high above.

    "You are alive!" His response sounded a touch incredulous, like he couldn''t quite believe the young dragonette had survived.

    Aytin chose to ignore that as he yelled back, "There were two of them! On the cliffs! But I got one, and..." he trailed off.

    The newcomer had backed off, out of sight of the dragon in the canyon below. He was about to pull her forward when Faelon shouted a warning.

    "Aytin, look out!"

    He had ducked and rolled to the side, just as a pair of shadows swooped overhead. They belonged to two more dragonettes, who landed alongside the first amidst unintelligible shouted words.

    When he saw that they weren''t threatening him, Aytin relaxed. "It''s fine! They''re... friendly? I think?"

    On closer inspection, the trio in question weren''t quite cowering, but they didn''t seem very interested in approaching the cliff edge. Even when he motioned for them to come closer, they remained where they were.

    All three were wearing roughly tanned hides, although they seemed to be well made. Soft fur peaked out from the necklines and sleeves. It looked a lot warmer than the ill-fitting coat he wore.

    The one who had saved him was hissing frantically to the other two, gesturing at Aytin, the delerion corpses, and finally down towards Faelon in the valley below. She was taller than her companions, although not by much.

    Or maybe she was. Her horns curved back quickly compared to most, masking her true height. Both had simple copper bands encircling their bases, something that reminded Aytin of how his sister Lin wore her huntress rank.

    Of the other two, one seemed to be older, maybe in her forties or fifties. Her left ear was notched just above where a large gold ring hung, and she looked to have been through her share of fights. The worst of her damage was the wide, pale scar in the membrane of her left wing.

    Nonetheless, she looked healthy enough, and when she interrupted the first dragonette, the tone of command was obvious even through the language barrier.

    The youngest and presumably most junior gestured with her flint tipped spear. Her lack of adornments may have been another sign of her rank. Or maybe her family just wasn''t as wealthy as the others''. She was smaller, too, the closest of the three to Aytin''s height and with a slightly stocky, almost masculine build.

    They all carried bows and quivers of arrows. Although their bows looked strange on closer inspection. They were simple wooden shortbows. Hatchlings'' toys, really, with far less power than his own laminated composite bow.

    ''It''s no wonder her first hit didn''t seem to do much more than piss the delerion off. My arrow crippled the first one, and I couldn''t even draw it all the way back. It''s not like my bow is much bigger than hers.''

    But if they swapped out their weapons for less archaic types and replaced their leather armor with enameled plates, they would be indistinguishable from a group of huntresses. Aytin figured that was probably exactly what they were.

    "What is happening up there?!"

    Faelon''s shouted question made all three huntresses flinch. Aytin just poked his head over the edge and called back, "I''m trying to figure that out! Give me a moment!"

    Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself straight and walked deliberately towards the trio of dragonettes. Deciding to address the first one to arrive, he said, "Thank you for saving me." Knowing she probably wouldn''t understand a word he was saying, he pointed back and forth from the distant delerion''s corpse to her, then back to himself and bobbed his head repeatedly.

    After a moment of confusion, she nodded and smiled, hesitantly. A part of Aytin noted that one of her front teeth appeared to be missing, but he made himself focus on her words. They were brief, and had the feel of a "You''re welcome", so he made a mental note of them. Then she pointed to herself and said, slowly and clearly, "Rina."

    "Rina," Aytin repeated, pointing to her. She nodded, and her smile widened. He felt his own growing to match as he pointed to himself. "Aytin."

    "Ah-tin."

    "No, Aey-tin," he said, emphasizing the first syllable.

    "Aytin." At his nod, she pointed to the other two dragonettes. The leader was apparently Attalee while the junior member of the group went by Ness. Then she pointed down towards the canyon. "Dragon?"

    "Yes, Faelon is a dragon. Faelon. Dragon."

    That prompted a quick round of muttering between the three, before Attalee spoke up. "Dragon Faelon," followed by more words that he couldn''t understand.

    "Yeah, he''s kind of intimidating, but Faelon is really great when you get to know him."

    "I am also still waiting," came the call from down below.

    "Right, uh..." There really was no reason they had to have this conversation up here. Aytin gestured at the three huntresses and then down at the canyon floor as he said, "I''m going down there. You meet me."

    Putting action to words, he started climbing down the cliff. Without a need to hurry, he took his time, carefully choosing each hand and foothold. It wouldn''t do to survive everything else, only to crack his head open at the bottom of a cliff.

    ''Not to mention how embarrassing it would be. Aytin Luffin: Escaped from brigands, killed a delerion, and died of a fall.''

    Up above, the three dragonettes were looking between Aytin and Faelon and then each other, chattering in low voices. They finally cut off when he was halfway down. But instead of flying, Rina got down and gingerly began to climb.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "No!" Aytin shouted. He had no idea she was climbing when he knew for a fact that her wings were fully functional.

    Rina stopped, looking uncertain. The meaning of the word had apparently come across. "No?" It had an odd accent, but was definitely recognizable. As was her sharp gesture at him, then herself.

    "Just fly down."

    Of course, that didn''t mean anything to her. She just flicked her ears and furrowed her eye ridges.

    In frustration, Aytin extended his own wings, the long gashes clear for her to see. "I can''t fly," he said. "I." He took a hand off the wall long enough to point to himself. "Fly." He gave his wings a flap that sent a jolt of pain through the wounds. "No." He shook his head.

    When she still didn''t move, he pointed to her and said, "You fly."

    Finally, the message seemed to get through. Hesitantly, she spread her wings. When Aytin nodded vigorously, she pushed off the cliff to glide gracefully towards the ground below. After a few moments, the other two followed her lead.

    They were waiting for him when he finally reached the canyon floor. Aytin motioned for them to follow him towards where Faelon waited. They did, although they stopped well short of the dragon, apparently reluctant to get any closer.

    That wasn''t Aytin''s first concern. He was consumed with concern at how bad his friend looked.

    Reds were resistant to fire. But Faelon had charged into the depths of an inferno. He was singed all over. Where patches of scales were missing from earlier wounds, blue-tinged ichor dribbled out of burn blisters. And the edge of his remaining wing had patches of membrane that were shriveled and discolored.

    "How are you doing?" Aytin asked. He sniffed and wrinkled his snout as he sat on a nearby rock. The dragon reeked of woodsmoke.

    "I will live. It was... bad." He shivered slightly, a tremor traveling from nose to tail-tip. "But it could have been far worse."

    "Not much. There were two of them. I think they were both focused on you."

    That elicited a slow nod from the dragon. "Likely a mated pair. And you killed them?"

    Aytin shrugged slightly. "One of them. Rina got the other."

    He motioned towards the dragonette in question. She was with her companions, well back from the dragon and watching with rapt attention.

    When Faelon turned his gaze their way, they all seemed to shrink back a bit. Not in a cower, but the dragon''s attention definitely made them uncomfortable in some way. Even when he gave a deep nod, they stayed silent and still until he returned to his conversation with Aytin.

    "I might have guessed there would be wildlings this far out on the frontier. How did you find them?"

    Aytin just gestured at the forest fire, still burning behind them. It was wet enough that the blaze wasn''t spreading much, but the cloud of dense smoke would be visible for most of an hour''s flight to anyone who was bothering to look.

    "I see. Do you know where they came from?"

    The dragonette shook his head. "We don''t even speak the same language."

    "Unfortunate. It means they likely do not have contact with a civilized group. They would have picked up a few words, at least, had that been the case."

    Aytin hadn''t even considered that. To be fair, he had just been happy to find somebody else - anybody else - on this gods forsaken island.

    Wildlings might not have been his first choice for neighbors, but they were far better than brigands.

    The uncivilized dragonettes beyond the frontiers of the kingdom''s control weren''t exactly legends, but they tended to keep to themselves. Aytin knew that traders and explorers occasionally interacted with them, along with keeps on the very edges of the frontier.

    "I don''t suppose you can speak their language?" Aytin ventured.

    "No," Faelon replied. "We encountered them a handful of times, but gestures and pointing were enough to trade. Even so, I doubt these speak the same language as the others I met."

    It was hard to imagine what a bunch of wildlings could have to interest a group like Faelon''s, so Aytin asked, "What did you trade?"

    "Mostly furs and meat for iron tools. One group had rough gold jewelry. For that, we traded steel knives. But it would not have been worthwhile, save for how highly they valued our metals."

    Aytin gave the trio a once over. Sure enough, their weapons all appeared to be wood and stone. And aside from Attalee''s gold earring and the copper band around the base of Rina''s horns, they didn''t have any visible metal on them.

    "Do you think we could get one of them to fly to another island and get help? We have plenty in the cache to trade."

    Faelon looked doubtful. "Perhaps they could carry a message. And perhaps they might even be able to find a settlement. What then? There are no soldiers this far out. And odds are good that it will be spring before another trader arrives. By then, Xantha and the rest will have come and gone."

    "But-" Aytin stopped himself before he could mention ''rescue''. ''He isn''t getting off this island.''

    He coughed slightly to cover the slip, and hunted for something else to say. "But... we should still go get to the cache. It''s not far, right?"

    "Not far at all." Faelon craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the sun as it dipped below the cliff edge. "I admit that I do not recall exactly how far it is, but I cannot see us arriving after dusk."

    "Then let''s go."

    Aytin tried to lever himself to his feet, but nearly stumbled. His magic wasn''t enough to compensate for the sudden weakness in his legs.

    "Are you alright?" Faelon looked the dragonette over with some concern.

    His spear was over where he had left it by the canyon wall. Aytin''s steps became more sure as he approached it, but he still heaved a sigh of relief as he picked it up and leaned against it.

    "I think the last few days are catching up to me. Just tired. And hungry," he added as his stomach rumbled.

    They both glanced to where the bundles of food and other supplies sat, a bit further up the canyon. Several hard days of cross country hiking had depleted them somewhat, but there was still plenty.

    "We eat first," Faelon declared. After a pause, he added, "And invite our new friends to join as well."

    As the dragon rose and made his way to the food, Aytin strode gingerly over to the group of wildling huntresses. The spear helped a lot, but his legs felt like all the muscles had been replaced with waterlogged rope.

    They eyed him with odd expressions as he approached. This time it was Attalee who stepped out to meet him. She said something in her language, pointing between him and Faelon, then gesturing to the sky and her wings.

    "No, we can''t fly," Aytin confirmed. Or at least, he thought he was answering the question. He flapped his wings a little, and shook his head vigorously while using the wildling word for no.

    Attalee frowned slightly, but seemed to get the message. Aytin took that as a good sign as he motioned for the three to follow. "We''re about to eat. Food." He mimed putting something into his mouth and chewing. "Thank you," he added, looking pointedly at Rina.

    Sure enough, she seemed to remember the phrase. "Thank you," she echoed in an understandable if thick accent. Then added something in her own language.

    Aytin thought for a moment, and repeated the phrase. That earned him a smile and what he remembered as, "You''re welcome," in the wildling tongue.

    ''Yes, no, thank you, you''re welcome. I''m making progress!''

    They followed him to the remainder of their supplies, although they were still reluctant to approach Faelon. He was rather intimidating, even burned and missing a wing. Aytin figured that they would get used to him in time.

    The trio didn''t exactly look pleased with the chunks of meat that Aytin handed them. At least in the process, he managed to pick up the words for "meat", "food", and "water".

    He certainly did not learn the one for "tasty".

    Rina, in particular, looked disgusted with the piece of tough, unseasoned tirox she had been handed. Attalee noticed her expression and said something that sounded like a rebuke. That got the junior huntress to at least take a bite. She didn''t exactly seem to be enjoying it.

    There were still plenty of apples. They had even sweetened slightly since their harvest. Aytin rummaged through the bags until he found some, and presented them to the huntresses.

    It got a reaction, but not the one he had been expecting.

    Rina laid into him with such vehemence that Aytin took an involuntary step back. He didn''t have to understand a word she was saying to know she was furious at him specifically, although he had no idea why. His only clue was one often repeated word that sounded suspiciously like "Apple".

    There was a noise from behind and Rina cut off mid-word. Aytin turned to see Faelon looming over him and looking down at the angry wildling.

    Attalee practically leapt to her feet and grabbed her subordinate by the shoulders. She hissed something into the other dragonette''s ear before bowing to Faelon. "Dragon Faelon" and "Rina" were the only words Aytin caught, but it was clearly an apology of some sort. A moment later, Rina meekly bowed her head and muttered something that sounded contrite.

    "That seems a little excessive," Aytin commented. "It''s not like dragons eat people."

    Faelon snorted slightly. "I do not expect any dragons make their home here. Recall what you thought when you met me as a youngling."

    "Ah. Good point." At least he had known that dragons didn''t usually go around using their breath weapons on people who didn''t deserve it. "Maybe you can, ummm..."

    The dragon fixed the wildlings with a stare and nodded gravely, then went back to his food. For their part, the trio seemed to take that as an apology accepted. Once Faelon''s attention was no longer on them, they returned to nibbling at their food, although they were much more subdued about the complaints.

    "I think we might have stolen their apples," Aytin whispered as he went to cut more meat for Faelon. A quick glance showed the huntresses all casting surreptitious looks at him and muttering among themselves.

    "Indeed," Faelon replied around a mouthful of tirox.

    "That keep must have been abandoned for decades. I bet the wildlings raided it when they left. And kept up the orchard afterwards."

    "Or they may be the reason that the original keep dwellers left."

    Aytin blinked and checked his instinctive reaction to glance back at the wildlings. "Do you really think so?"

    A draconic shrug was his response. "Who can say? But remain on your guard. They helped us, yes, but their motivations are their own. Always keep that in mind."

    The two lapsed into silence after that. And Aytin recalled the last time that someone had hidden their true intentions.

    Believing Xantha was a mistake that he resolved to never repeat again.

 Chapter 26: Hope

    No matter what Faelon said, it was clear he was hurting badly. While Aytin had gotten off with nothing more than scratches and bruises, the dragon was favoring his right foreleg. Blue-tinged fluid seeped around blackened scales all around the foot. Thankfully, it wasn''t a fatal wound, and draconic healing meant that any wound that failed to kill him would quickly heal.

    But in light of his wounds and because neither of them wanted to spend the time and effort to load it all onto the dragon''s back, they were leaving the rest of the tirox meat behind.

    "We can get it on our way back," Aytin said, eyeing the pile as they made their way up the canyon. "Or maybe trade for some fresh meat."

    "A deer would be nice. One roasted rather than burned."

    Aytin flicked his ears in exasperation at the teasing tone in his friend''s words. "I did my best with that tirox. And I had to eat it, too."

    "I know," Faelon acknowledged, serious once more. "It was... a difficult situation. For us both."

    Neither spoke for a few moments as they relived the whiplash of emotions. The relief, and the chagrin that came after when they realized their windfall turned out not to be all that they had hoped.

    Eventually, Aytin spoke up. "I''m going to try and talk to them. Learn the language," he said, motioning towards the wildling huntresses. "Whatever they really want, they haven''t tried to kill us and they haven''t flown away."

    "A worthwhile plan. I shall listen as you do."

    "You don''t want to help?" It wasn''t exactly surprising. Faelon had always been less than approachable, for reasons Aytin was only now beginning to understand. But he thought the dragon would at least want to be able to speak to the newcomers.

    "What do you believe would happen if I attempted to speak to them now?"

    Aytin glanced towards the wildlings. They were keeping pace with the two of them, but still maintaining a healthy separation from Faelon. Either they didn''t have much experience with dragons or else those experiences hadn''t been particularly pleasant ones.

    "Good point. I''ll try and work on that with them. Hopefully they will realize that you''re not actually going to eat them." He added that last with a smile, but it faded when the dragon didn''t immediately agree.

    "Perhaps..." Faelon said, slowly. "Perhaps it would be wise not to do so."

    "What? Why?"

    "Think about it."

    Aytin did. And he recalled their earlier conversation on intentions.

    "Okay, that''s a good point. I''ll focus on getting us a good meal, you be big and intimidating. But at some point, they are going to realize that you''re not some monster."

    "And by that time, we will know more about them."

    "You really are paranoid, aren''t you?" When Faelon didn''t comment, Aytin shrugged. "Fine, I don''t think it will hurt anything to do it your way. In the meantime, any other words of wisdom before I get started?"

    The dragon considered for a moment. "No, I trust you with this."

    Aytin was surprised by the sincerity in his partner''s words. "Thanks. And I''ll try to get a deer or two out of them for you."

    "Do that, and I will be eternally grateful."

    So the young dragonette dropped back to join the trailing wildlings and let Faelon lead. Not that it would have been possible to get lost hiking up the canyon.

    As they walked, there were signs of the dragon''s last passage in this direction. Mostly in the form of snapped trees and gouges in the rocky ground. A long, intermittent line marked where his broken wing had dragged. It didn''t take a tracker to follow a trail this obvious, and only luck and the tall, sheltering walls had kept the brigands'' search from finding him.

    Aytin spent the rest of the trek pointing at various things and getting the words for them. Rina actually seemed enthusiastic about the whole process, and Ness joined in shortly.

    The youngest of the three wildlings hadn''t said much before. She was obviously new to her role, Aytin''s age or maybe even a little younger. But once she felt comfortable, she practically emptied her belt pouches showing off her possessions and rattling off names.

    When those were finished, she started improvising, gesturing wildly in more and more complex pantomimes. Aytin found himself smiling and laughing at Ness''s antics more than he had at any time since the brigand ambush. It felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

    Together, they managed to hash out the words for a number of things. Tree, rock, sky, bird, sun, knife, bow, things of that nature. Actions like walking, running, throwing, and fighting were easy enough to figure out. Concepts like hunting or cooking took some time to get across because they couldn''t immediately demonstrate them, but between Ness''s enthusiasm and Aytin''s determination, they managed.

    Oddly, their word for dragonette had taken some work to get across. Ness and Rina argued back and forth for a while as Aytin repeatedly pointed between them.

    Throughout the process, he managed to pick up a handful of other useful words. Things like pronouns and a handful of descriptive words. Good and bad were easy enough. Hot and cold came from comparing a sun baked rock and a shaded one. Big and small were especially useful. He could chain them with other words for emphasis.

    Aytin was surprised that he could remember the flood of words. Most of them, at least. He wasn''t perfect and, judging by Ness''s giggles, his accent was terrible. But by and large, he managed to make a good bit of progress.

    It helped that many of the words sounded similar. Especially simple things. ''I wonder if we shared the same language a long time ago.''

    Throughout the hike, Attalee remained aloof. She stayed further back, only commenting when Rina eventually spoke to her directly.

    Aytin couldn''t catch what was said. He might know a few words and be able to guess the meanings of others, but he probably sounded like a recent hatchling to them.

    Still, her tone seemed distracted. Or maybe annoyed. It was hard to tell.

    The other two were perfectly happy to keep up the exchange.

    Without thinking, Aytin pulled the short sword from its sheath and held it up questioningly.

    There was instant silence as the wildlings'' eyes went wide.

    ''Oh, shit.'' He had an instant to realize his mistake before they crowded around him. Even Attalee overcame her hesitance to get a closer look at the steel blade.

    The sword wasn''t anything particularly special. About forearm length with a basic crossguard and leather wrapped handle. It was the sort of thing that a junior guard might carry as a backup for a bow or polearm. But the wildlings were treating it like it was made of enchanted mithril.

    Rina reached out and tapped the steel with one taloned finger. It made a dull tink. She whispered something almost reverently. It might have been the word for steel or metal. Aytin had no way to be sure.

    There was the hiss of metal leaving a sheath and he twisted to see Attalee had drawn a knife. Aytin flinched away, but the other dragonette raised one hand in a placating gesture. Slowly, she held her own blade against his.

    On closer examination, the wildling''s knife looked less like a weapon and more like a piece of cutlery. ''Maybe an old kitchen knife?'' Aytin wondered where the wildlings had gotten it. Some wind-blown trader? Or looted from the ruins of the keep? It was definitely old enough to be the latter, pitted and stained with age and sharpened so many times that its profile was noticeably stubby.

    But when she tapped it against Aytin''s sword, both blades rang with clear metallic notes.

    That set off a round of muttering, mostly between Rina and Attalee. One that included Aytin''s name and a lot of gestures his way. This went on for some time, with mutters turning to hisses and even a barked exclamation from Ness.

    Eventually, Aytin had enough.

    "Hey!"

    His shout had them all looking his way. When she saw the annoyed expression on his face, Rina at least had the decency to look apologetic. She said something, probably an apology, to which Aytin replied with a nod.

    "I good?" he asked, making the most of his limited vocabulary.

    "You good." She said it with a firm nod and a smile. Then she pointed to the sword now sheathed at his hip. "Knife big... steel?"

    He didn''t catch the whole sentence, but the last word was the same as the one she had used before, so he pegged it as definitely referring to the metal.

    "Yes, the sword is made of steel." In wildling, he said, "Knife big steel." After a moment''s consideration, he added, "No knife, sword." That last was in his language, since he doubted the wildlings had a word for it.

    "Sword," Rina said, as if tasting the word. "Sword good. You..." she added something he couldn''t understand.

    At Aytin''s confused look, she drew her own knife. It was a short blade, made of knapped flint. Treating it like a much longer weapon, the huntress made stabbing and cutting motions. Then she bared her teeth and held her fingers up to her forehead in what was clearly an imitation of a delerion''s antennae before closing her eyes and lolling her tongue out.

    The pantomime drew a snort of laughter. Aytin had to grin as he nodded, catching the gist of her question. "Yes, I stabbed delerion." That was what he thought he was saying, at least.

    ''I won''t mention I used my knife, not the sword. No need to show them exactly how much metal I have just yet.''

    She asked something else. This time, the question seemed to involve both him and his weapons. She indicated the bow, spear, and sword in turn. But he could only shake his head in confusion.

    When she repeated herself to no avail, Rina scrunched her snout in frustration. Slowly, like speaking to a hatchling, she pointed at Aytin and started going through words, something they had found occasionally bore fruit. He still couldn''t make sense of it until...

    "Stop!" That last word had sounded almost like... "Warrior?" To emphasize, he held his spear up like he was defending against some unseen attacker.

    "Yes! You warrior?"

    Something about the sheer absurdity of the question started Aytin chuckling. And he found that he couldn''t stop. Soon he was laughing almost hysterically at the very idea of himself as a trained fighter.

    Rina was frowning deeply when he finally managed to get himself under control. "No," he nearly gasped. "I no warrior. You warrior more more I."

    "No, I huntress." That was what she had to be saying, at least.

    To confirm, Aytin pointed to Attalee and Ness. "Huntress?"

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    "Yes. We huntresses. You?" The last was added questioningly.

    ''That''s a good question. What am I, exactly?''

    That had been the question when he was sent off to the capital. He wasn''t a warrior. He wasn''t a leader or administrator. Not a miner nor a farmer nor a smith. Certainly not a huntress, and that brought another smile to the corners of his lips. The idea of a male huntress was absurd.

    Rina was still waiting, and she was starting to look impatient. All he really had for an answer was a shrug. "I, Faelon, we..." He trailed off and shrugged once more. He wanted to tell her that they were friends. That he was going where the dragon went. But those words were beyond him.

    Somehow. Rina seemed to understand. She nodded deeply, and in almost a whisper said, "You Faelon companion."

    ''Or she could be saying I''m his dinner.'' But the word sounded close enough to companion, and from the way she had said the word, that seemed most likely. In fact from her tone, Aytin had the feeling it meant quite a bit more.

    He was about to press further, when Faelon interrupted.

    "We are here."

    Aytin had been so engrossed in the conversation that he hadn''t noticed as the canyon narrowed and the cliff walls shortened. At this point, Faelon could probably peak his head over the top without even stretching.

    Just past the dragon, the canyon ended. Water trickled out of a small pool, but the smooth walls and deep basin warned that it could become a raging torrent in the right season.

    There was a hollow behind the dormant waterfall. Something had clearly expanded it in recent days. There were deep gouges in the rock and sections appeared discolored, as if they hadn''t been exposed to the same weathering as the rest of the cliff face.

    All told, it was just large enough for an adult red dragon to squeeze into. And in the very back, piled where they were concealed by deep shadows, were the surviving contents of Faelon''s cargo.

    "Thank the gods," Aytin muttered. A new burst of energy filled him as he pushed himself towards the cache. "I was beginning to think that we would never get here."

    "I will admit that the feeling is mutual."

    Faelon remained where he was as Aytin scrambled up the short rocky lip. His positioning presented a bit of a problem for the wildlings.

    They were still unwilling to approach the dragon. And the canyon was narrow enough that they would need to pass within a few dragonette wingspans of him in order to follow Aytin. There was no reason that they couldn''t take to the skies, but something seemed to stop them from doing even that. So they waited and watched from a distance as the young dragonette began to dig into the treasure trove.

    His heart fell when he saw the condition of the supplies. Underneath a layer of wind-blown leaves, many of the wooden crates and casks showed signs of damage. Much of it was certainly from the crash, but it was clear that Faelon hadn''t been particularly careful as he had haphazardly shoved everything into place.

    ''I can''t really blame him for that. Injured, and with no hands? It''s a miracle he was able to do this much.''

    Even more worrying was the smell. Aytin wrinkled his nose at the sour, almost rotten scent that pervaded the alcove.

    But digging into the crates, he found that most of the damage was superficial. Cargo was packed to handle jostling and the occasional rough landing. Tightly packed straw had cushioned most of the impacts.

    The furs and tanned hides would be useful. Same with the smith''s tools. But they weren''t what he was looking for. He dug out several sacks of seed that had gotten wet and were beginning to mildew. And a padded box filled with fertilized eggs gone bad.

    But below that was something that nearly had the dragonette crying tears of joy.

    An entire barrel of salt, weighing nearly as much as he did! With its seals still intact!

    And there were more treasures to be found.

    Faelon had managed to miss at least one large container of potted meat. And there were ingots of various metals that would be worth a fair pile of gold to a settlement with a good smith.

    The reason for the weird smell became apparent as a dark, thin liquid spilled from between the cracked staves in a small cask. Most of the ale it once held had leaked out, soaking into the ground and surrounding packages.

    That was disappointing, and Aytin looked longingly at the dribble of stale beer. ''After all of this, a drink would have been nice.''

    But there was so much more that was intact. Like the small bundle of bow staves and braided strings. Or the wood saw and carpentry tools to go with it.

    Something familiar caught the young dragonette''s eye. A battered trunk, something that looked like it would have been more at home in a keep than on dragonback. One with the symbol of the Luffin family carved into the top.

    "Oh, gods." Almost reverently, Aytin flipped the latches and opened the lid.

    A little moisture had managed to seep in over the weeks. The contents had a musty smell, but otherwise everything was there.

    Not that there was much, nor anything particularly fragile. A few extra sets of underclothes, his spare coat. Soap and brushes and polish for his horns and talons. He smiled slightly at the set of formal clothing: A snow white vest with blue trimming, shiny brass buttons, and matching pants.

    His face fell as he pulled out the wax-sealed linen envelope at the bottom. It bulged with missives for his uncle Cork. Aytin knew what most of them said. His mother had spent several evenings going over them with him before he left. The details of their mine''s declining production, dwindling copper stockpiles, and the various alternatives they were exploring. Everything was laid out in those pages.

    It had been the most time he had spent with his mother in... honestly, he couldn''t remember.

    Aytin stuffed the envelope back into the trunk, next to the small pouch of coins. There was enough money there to live comfortably in the capital for months. Now they weren''t any more useful than a handful of shiny rocks.

    Other personal trunks and bags laid scattered throughout the pile. All possessions of Faelon''s former crew. They no doubt held all sorts of useful gear. He would have to search them at some point. But Aytin couldn''t bring himself to do that.

    Not yet.

    It wasn''t like he was short on things to go through. There was frankly too much to handle all at once, especially with the sun beginning to dip towards the horizon. He had to prioritize.

    "Do you know where the medicines are?" Aytin called down to Faelon.

    "One of the smaller boxes. I believe it had a white stripe painted across its side."

    Aytin could vaguely recall which one the dragon was talking about from his time working as a hand on the crew. With that in mind, he rooted through the pile to find the item in question. Prying open the lid revealed a number of clay jars packed tightly in straw.

    Miracle of miracles, they were not only intact, but labeled as well. Not just with their contents, but the afflictions they were meant to treat. The first one appeared to be for reducing pain, while the second claimed to be for gut cramps. He set both of those aside before pulling out a third. The label proclaimed it a "wound salve" which was good enough for him.

    The wax seal broke, and a harsh smell wafted up from the dark paste inside the ceramic jar. It was a bit like a strong drink that had turned sour, mixed with something more herbal.

    His wing tingled as he spread the paste across the inflamed gash. No more than that, though. Certainly nothing like the burning pain of his amateur concoction. A slight chill seemed to follow, and with it came a dulling of the pain that had been slowly building over the last few days.

    Just to be safe, he started applying the same medicine to his other wing. The wound there was healing nicely, but it wouldn''t hurt to help it along.

    Rocks clattered nearby. It was Rina, picking her way up the short rise to the cache. Apparently, her curiosity had overcome her reluctance to approach Faelon.

    She indicated the pile of supplies and asked something in a questioning tone.

    "I don''t think it''s worth hiding this, do you Faelon?" Aytin directed the question to the dragon, who bobbed his head back and forth in indifference.

    "They will find out soon enough."

    Casting about, Aytin quickly found what he was looking for. The wildling obviously recognized the bow stave, and accepted the string he passed her. But when she tried to string it, her eyes went wide.

    "That''s probably a much heavier pull that you''re used to," Aytin told her, although he knew she wouldn''t understand a word he said. Her bow was nearby, where she had set it down. "More good," he added, making it clear he meant that bow.

    "More good," Rina echoed. "More..." He thought the word that followed was heavy, although she might have said strong.

    Aytin took the bow back, and showed her how to loop the string around a notch at the base. Then, holding it close, he bent the top limb backwards. Or tried to, anyway. Even with leverage, it was too much for him.

    Demonstrating the technique was enough, though. When Rina attempted the same, she was easily able to bend the limb back until the string slipped into place.

    The huntress stared at the assembled bow almost reverently. An experimental tug had her wide eyed, ears pricked in astonishment.

    "Try it."

    They didn''t need to speak the same language for her to get the point. There were a number of fletched shafts stored nearby. Aytin handed her one of those. As a huntress, she was obviously familiar with a bow, even if this one was much more powerful than what she was used to.

    A tree leaned precariously over one edge of the canyon, protruding well out over the dry streambed below. From the displaced dirt around its base, it looked like the lean was a recent development, perhaps caused by a certain dragon''s passage. About as thick around as a dragonette''s chest and fifty paces away, it made an excellent target.

    The wildling sighted on. When she drew, she hesitated halfway, no doubt worried at the force she was having to use. But Aytin motioned for her to keep going. Rina reset, took a deep breath, and pulled the bow to its full extension before loosing. The arrow zipped through the intervening distance to shatter into splinters on impact with the trunk.

    Aytin winced as the shaft disintegrated. He had gone for a long time with only a bare handful of arrows. It would take some time to adjust to having a dozens and the materials to make more. Rina, on the other hand, was staring at the bow in her hands with something like awe.

    When she didn''t move for several seconds, Aytin gave her a poke. "Good?"

    Her response sounded quite a bit stronger than simply "Good". "Amazing" was probably more like it.

    Rina tried to hand the bow back to him, but Aytin shook his head and pushed it back at her. "You bow. Thank you. Hunting delerion."

    The look on her face was priceless. Like he had just gifted her a set of enchanted armor instead of a simple bow.

    "You are quick to give away my cargo."

    Aytin''s eyes went wide with embarrassment as he spun to face the dragon. "Oh, damn, I''m sorry Faelon! I wasn''t thinking! I just-"

    "It is fine," he replied, with a dismissive shake of his head. "A little goodwill is worth the price of a few trinkets that I have little use for, anyway. Just be sure to get a good value for anything that you trade."

    "I, uh, I will," Aytin promised, although he didn''t have the faintest clue how to do that. ''What do they have to trade? Ten deer for a bow? Twenty?'' By Rina''s reaction, even that number might be low.

    The other two huntresses approached. Apparently the gift had been enough to convince them that they were welcome.

    Rina didn''t waste any time showing off her new toy.

    Soon, Ness was making appreciative noises as she plucked the bowstring while Attalee looked on and tried to remain impassive. From the intensity of her stare and how her hand twitched as they passed the bow back and forth, she clearly wanted to join in.

    ''If this is how they react to a bow and my little sword, I can''t imagine what they will do when they find out what else is in there.''

    Besides the bows, there were arrowheads, both iron hunting tips and steel bodkin points for punching through armor. More swords and knives and spear points. Ax heads and hammers and awls and all manner of tools. Not to mention most of the guards'' armor and equipment had to be here, somewhere.

    ''They would kill for it,'' Aytin realized with an involuntary gulp. Then a thought occurred to him. ''They would kill for it...''

    While the trio were distracted, he made his way over to where Faelon had settled down. Not that the dragon was resting. He was very clearly keeping an attentive watch on the wildlings.

    "We should ask them to gather wood for a fire," Faelon said as Aytin approached. "Perhaps hunt something for breakfast." He extended his neck to peak at the sun''s position above the canyon rim. Dusk couldn''t be more than a couple of hours away.

    "I''ll try to ask them. I think I have enough of their language. But..."

    He hesitated, and Faelon gave him a questioning look. "Is there something else?"

    "Yeah... Faelon, you''re still set on fighting- on killing Xantha when she returns?"

    "That has not changed. You will be safe, and finding the wildlings may be quite the boon. That is assuming they do not rob you blind once I am gone."

    The way he said that made it clear that it wasn''t a joke.

    "I''m sure we could come to some sort of arrangement, but... Faelon, you know that these three can''t be all of them, right?"

    "Yes. I expect an entire tribe. A hundred, easily, and possibly more. Why?"

    "Because I''m not going to leave you, Faelon."

    The dragon snorted in exasperation. "There is no need for you to-"

    "I''m not!" Aytin nearly shouted and Faelon jerked back from the intensity of the words. "You want her dead because she''s a traitor. Well, that bitch betrayed me, too! And don''t forget what else she did!" He flared his wings, showing the prominent gashes through the membranes.

    "And gods damn it, after all we''ve been through, I''m not going to let you go off to die alone like that!"

    Tears burned at the corners of Aytin''s eyes as he fought not to break down into sobs. He forced himself to grit his teeth and take deep breaths.

    When he finally got himself under control, the young dragonette looked up into Faelon''s enormous eyes. Eyes that were full of concern.

    "But there''s one more thing," Aytin said, now with a tight smile and a hint of hope in his voice.

    "What is that?" Faelon asked, deep voice lowered to nearly nothing.

    "I don''t think we have to fight alone."

 Halloween Special: Awake

    Outside of Nair Keep, howling winds drove sheets of chill rain through skies dark with billowing clouds. Gusts from the south kept it from turning to snow, but only just barely. It was still wet and miserable.

    Inside, the halls were silent. Nair Keep was fairly typical for the outer ring. It was normally a bustle of activity as its thirty-odd residents worked to eke out a living on the edge of the kingdom.

    But the fireplace in the great hall held nothing but cold ash, while the long benches were bare. The forge was dark, and crafters'' workshops silent. Beds were stripped and empty. Only a draft moved through corridors normally filled with the clatter of talons on stone.

    The sole sign of life in the keep was a single ribbon of smoke that drifted from one of its chimneys before being shredded by the wind and rain. Down the flue, in the very heart of the keep, a fire crackled. By its light, a pair of dragonettes sat at a wooden table, surrounded by pots and pans and knives and plates and all manner of cooking implements. An iron cookpot sat over the flames, slowly simmering away.

    Neither was really paying attention to the food. It was just a simple stew of jerky, dried vegetables, and a handful of grain. Nourishing, but not particularly tasty.

    No, their focus was on the pair of dice that the shorter of the two had just thrown. As they came to a rest, her perked ears drooped in disappointment. "Oh, come on! Fours?! Again?!" She moved a small marker on her circular board, and it missed the blue patch by a single space.

    "You might be right about being cursed," her fellow joked as she picked up the dice. Holding them up and shaking them against each tip of her forward curving horns, she tossed them onto the table. A six and a three.

    After a bit of consideration, she moved her own marker three spaces, placing it directly between the blue and a black.

    When her companion didn''t move to pick up the dice, she frowned. "Oh, come on Sanara, I was joking."

    "Yeah, well, I don''t really think it is a joke," she grumbled. "Maybe I offended Lotek or something when I told that trader her wine was watered down."

    "It was watered down," her companion - Cassionie - argued. "You just could have been a little more, uh, polite about the whole thing."

    "She deserved it."

    "You threw a cup of it at her while calling her a cheat!"

    "And I might have been a little drunk at the time. But come on, wine that weak might as well be wash-water!" Sanara sighed and picked up the dice. Without any fanfare she tossed them. A two and a three, this time. That moved her to the other side of the blue finish line.

    "That''s when it all started, anyway," she went on as Cassi picked up the dice. "I bet it''s why my name came up in the drawing."

    "And I still say being awake isn''t a bad thing!"

    "Give it a few weeks. You''ll change your mind."

    But Cassi wasn''t having any of it. "A whole extra share and all I have to do is feed the animals and watch the keep while everyone else is asleep? Not a chance!"

    Sanara wrinkled her snout in an ironic smile. "Just wait for the cold to really set in. Then the snow will come and you''ll get tired of stewed jerky-"

    "I''ll admit, I am already tired of stewed jerky," Cassi interrupted as she tossed the dice. "Damn, no twos." The three did put her just one space away from her goal, though.

    "You only think you''re tired of it. I did this two winters back. I know what it''s like."

    "Only a month and a half to midwinter. Then it''s the next shift''s turn. I can make it until then." She nudged the dice towards her unlucky friend with an outstretched talon.

    Her comment got her a head shake in response. "Trust me, you''ll be begging for a dose of heaven oak tea so you can join the rest of the keep before too long."

    "I''ll manage. Plenty of time to plan what I''m going to get with my gold. I''m thinking a new pair of earrings. But should they be in silver with some nice emeralds? Or maybe diamond studded gold hoops?" She waggled her ears, which currently lacked any adornments.

    "You''ll be lucky to afford copper."

    Cassi flicked her tongue out. "And what are you going to get?"

    "A nice barrel of strong ale to drink for when I get this duty next year," she muttered as she finally picked up the dice and tossed them. Two small dots stared up at her and she finally let a real smile show through as she moved her marker into the blue. "Or maybe not."

    Her companion laughed and pointed one long finger at the dice. "See, told you you''re not cursed!"

    "Can''t lose them all, I guess," Sanara muttered. "So, best three out of five?"

    Cassionie sighed as she trudged towards the barn. Bundled as she was, with hot water bottles packed beneath a thick, waterproof coat, she was warm enough. But even wrapping her legs in strips of cloth couldn''t keep them warm in the thick, freezing mud.

    She longed to spread her wings and fly down the rise to the barn and small paddock. Except in this cold, even a short flight could be dangerous. There were countless stories of dragonettes flying during the winter only to crash as their wing muscles seized in the cold. Better to walk than risk a crash.

    At least the rain had receded into a soft drizzle overnight. That was still a poor consolation as she trudged towards the soft cries of the animals.

    Something must have tipped the animals off to her approach because a small flock of mixed goats and sheep emerged from the barn and charged towards the fence, bleating up a storm.

    "I don''t know how you all do it," Cassi muttered as she pushed through the gate. "An hour out here and I''d be stiff as a board. And you all spend every night out here." One of the ewes pushed up against her and she laughed and stroked a hand through the thick, rough wool.

    The press of warm bodies and steaming breath helped a bit with the cold, and the dragonette moved a bit more briskly to the hay shed, pressed along by the eager flock. They set on the armfulls of dried grass and brush with happy bleats.

    Once the flock was distracted by food, Cassi went about checking the paddock. Thankfully, nothing had fallen on the fence during the storm. Digging new posts in this weather would have been torturous.

    She was also pleased that the barn''s new shingle roof had held up. That job had taken her most of a month towards the end of summer, removing the old roofing and rotted rafters, splitting new shingles, and hauling them up. Most of the work had been on her own. The title of assistant carpenter didn''t lend her much authority, and most would-be workers were already busy.

    A quick check showed the trough was full of fresh rainwater, and the stalls wouldn''t need mucking out for a few days at least. It almost seemed like a waste to get all dressed up just to throw out some feed, but she wasn''t going to complain.

    The hot water bottles ringing her chest were starting to cool when Cassi finally unbarred the gate and started to trudge back up the hill to the keep. Off to her right, fields lay fallow for the season. They were an ugly gash on the landscape, with only a few browned stalks still poking out of the muddy soil.

    But something moved among the empty furrows. A small herd of deer had crept in from the forest, nosing at the remains of last season''s crops.

    Cassi froze, staring down the slope. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered at the sight as thoughts of fresh venison steaks played in her head. It was even cold enough that a carcass would keep fresh if they strung it up outside where animals couldn''t get at it.

    Ducking low, she scrambled up the muddy slope. The cold seemed a little more distant now. Memories of the taste of fresh meat did wonders at pushing it away.

    The keep''s side entrance creaked on rusty iron hinges, revealing a dark room beyond. "Sanara!" Cassi hissed, keeping her voice low as she hunted for a lamp in the dim light. There wasn''t any flint, but she didn''t need one. Concentrating and holding the wick between two fingers, there was a faint pop and then it burst into flame.

    It wasn''t the flashiest magic, but it had its uses. She smiled to herself, then pushed towards the heart of the keep.

    "Sanara!" Her voice remained muted, as if the deer might hear it through the thick stone walls. There was no response.

    ''Probably by the kitchen fire,'' Cassi thought to herself. She was about to turn in that direction when a thought occurred to her. With a sly smile, she turned the other way and pushed through the door to the room that held the keep''s small armory.

    No one was exempt from weapons training. Not so far out on the frontier, where brigands, darklings, and inter-keep fighting were facts of life. As a carpenter, Cassi was more familiar than most with the crossbow she picked up. She had made the stock, after all. There was a cocking claw nearby, which she used to lever the string into place before seating a bolt in its groove.

    Every dragonette born on the frontier thought of becoming a huntress at one time or another. The girls, at least. Born in an inner keep, she had played at hunting with other hatchlings. And even though that fantasy had faded, it had still been a bit of a disappointment when Sanara had been recruited from the city of Bartelion and straight into the ranks of the huntresses a few years past.

    Bagging a deer in the middle of an open field might not be much of a feat, but tweaking the huntress''s tail over it might pass a few boring afternoons.

    Crossbow in hand, she rushed back through the halls and out the door, not even taking the time to close it behind her. Mud squelched beneath her feet. She could only hope that the wind would be enough to muffle the sound.

    In a few moments, the fields came into view. They were empty.

    "Shit!" Cassi cursed. "Where in the gods'' names did they go?!"

    Throwing caution to the winds and racing down the hill, she quickly came to the spot where the herd had been. There were prints everywhere in the thick mud. Huntresses occasionally talked about following animal sign. It couldn''t be that hard, could it?

    Scouring the edges of the field proved little help. There were tracks, for certain. Even ones that were clearly from deer. Only they seemed to be going every which way.

    Now caked in mud up to the top of her ankles, one arm dripping from a near fall, Cassi was about ready to cry in frustration. Worse, there was no way she''d be able to hide this from her Sanara. Not without a bath, and there wouldn''t be any of those until spring.

    "It was a fall. A deep puddle. Just need to hide the crossbow before she sees it."

    As far as stories went, it was a poor one. But with luck, it would be enough to avoid ridicule.

    She was just about to turn back to the keep empty handed when a rustle from behind one of the low trees that bordered the fields made her pause. Nothing, and then... there! The soft sound of evergreen needles shifting as something passed through.

    Those same needles blocked the view of anything deeper into the woods. Cassi edged to one side, sighting down her crossbow and hunting for the returning deer.

    The noises were getting louder, punctuated by the occasional snort. It sounded like an entire herd of them. One finger tightened on the trigger, waiting for just the right moment.

    Something brown moved in the trees and Cassi jerked the trigger. Just as she cursed her impatience, there was the thwack of the bolt hitting flesh.

    "Oh, thank Naulk!" It could only be the god of the hunt that had blessed her shot. Pushing through the trees, she was pleased to find the brown bulk of a good sized buck collapsed in a pile of pine needles.

    And then all that excitement turned to horror. Because rather than felling the buck, Cassionie''s bolt had buried itself in the dragonette carrying it.

    "Sanara!" Terror gripped her heart as she rushed to the form of the weakly struggling dragonette, dropping her crossbow to the ground. "Oh, gods, oh gods, I''m sorry! I''m sorry I''m sorry I''m sorry!"

    Blue blood was everywhere as she hauled the deer''s body off of the collapsed huntress. Any hope of a minor graze died as the wound registered. Sanara had one hand gripping the bolt by its shaft, buried up to its torn fletchings in her long neck. She gurgled something as her eyes locked onto her shooter.

    "Oh, shit. I- I- Don''t worry, I''ll get it out!" With a frantic burst of strength, she yanked the bolt from her fellow''s neck.

    It was a mistake. As soon as the shaft was free, an arterial spray of blood splattered across Cassi from arm to horns. She stumbled backwards just as another weaker spurt erupted from the wound.

    "Noooooo! Nononono!" She looked back and forth between the bolt in her hands and the slowing flood coming out of Sanara''s neck. Then her horrified gaze shifted. They caught the dying dragonette''s green eyes. Saw the pain in them. The shock. The pleading. Pleading for someone to save her from the inevitable.

    Cassionie turned and ran.

    "They''re not going to kill me. They can''t kill me. They need me."

    Cassi sat by a roaring fire. She felt cold to her very bones. To her heart. A deep and terrible ache that the flames couldn''t hope to touch.

    Sitting on a stool, staring into the flickering light, she rocked back and forth. The fire held neither answers, nor clarity. It just crackled with inappropriate cheer, oblivious to the situation that its master was in.

    "It was an accident. Accidents happen."

    The words rang hollow. Accidents might happen, but a carpenter trying her hand at being a huntress was no accident. There would be consequences.

    Sanara had no family at the keep. No one to insist on a harsh punishment for her murderer. No one to demand blood for blood. Then again, Cassi didn''t have anyone who would stand up for her. Friends, yes. But they were Sanara''s friends, too.

    Nothing like this had ever happened out here in Nair Keep. It was quiet. An occasional word from Lady Nair was more than enough to settle any disputes.

    Back home, though, back in the inner keeps, they had their crimes. They were more small towns than the extended families of the outer frontier communities. Thievery wasn''t unheard of. If they were caught, those criminals got sent to the mines in chains.

    That was all well and good in a place with more dragonettes than jobs. Where a mining guild representative was less than a day''s flight away, and always ready to take charge of another prisoner. Out here, on the frontier, they didn''t have that luxury.

    And murder was a damn sight worse than stealing a few gold.

    "They still need me. They won''t break my wings and throw me into the ocean." That sort of punishment was reserved for traitors. She wasn''t a traitor. And the keep was already down a huntress. They couldn''t afford to lose a skilled carpenter.

    But did a carpenter really need her wings? Her horns? Two working legs?

    Lady Nair held final judgment over everyone in the keep. As long as it didn''t go against the wishes of the crown, her word was law.

    She might get by with an indenture. But how long? Five years? Ten? A life for a life in service to the keep?

    Maybe the worst of it was that now she was alone. Or as good as, anyway. The rest of the keep were all in magical comas, most with enough heaven oak bark in them to last until spring. A pair would be waking in another month and a half to replace her. There was no way to awaken them sooner, and her judgment would hang above her until that day.

    "But... what if they don''t know?"

    The sudden thought made a great deal of sense. She was the only one awake. The only one who knew what had actually happened. Who else was to say that Sanara hadn''t gone out one day and never come back? Eaten by dire wolves or frozen to death or crashed after an ill advised flight.

    For the first time in hours, Cassi felt a spark of hope in her frozen chest. It drove her to her feet and out the kitchen door. There was no need to get dressed. She still wore her winter gear. It was enough for what she had planned.

    "First, the body. No one can find the body."

    Finding the corpse with a bolt and crossbow nearby would tear the wings out from under any story she told. Cassi cursed herself for leaving the weapon out there. She''d have to retrieve it along with the body.

    It would be better to have her just disappear. Strip the body, drag it out a ways, and leave it for the wild animals. Then burn her belongings so no one would ever find them.

    Then she would just say that Sanara just went out one day and never came back. Some people might be suspicious, sure. They wouldn''t be able to prove anything. And in the meantime, Cassi would keep up their duties.

    For the third time that day, she trudged down the path from the keep, veering off towards the forest. The spot would forever be seared into her memory. She knew that she would be able to find it until the day she died. The exact spot she stood when the string released. The tree looming over the spot the body fell. The patch of ground compressed by the weight of the dying dragonette.

    Only, when she arrived, the body was gone.

    There was no question that it was the right place. The deer carcass lay right where she had left it. Blood tinged the mud a light blue where it pooled. There was even a depression in the soggy needles where Sanara had bled out.

    But nothing remained of the dragonette. Not so much as a scrap of cloth or sliver of flesh. Just the blood soaking into the ground.

    For a brief moment, Cassi thought that the other dragonette had survived. Maybe she had some latent healing magic or a potion stashed away somewhere.

    That was impossible, though. She knew for sure that Sanara''s gift was something to do with the winds. She could bend and twist them around her, which made the huntress almost untouchable on the wing. There was no room in her personality for a split power.

    And all that blood... No, she was dead. Had to be dead.

    "A wolf got her," Cassi decided. "Dragged her off and ate her. That''s good. That will work."

    Except that the wolf had left the deer behind.

    Maybe it was just the one beast. Maybe the dragonette just smelled better. It didn''t matter. The body was gone.

    So was the bolt. Cassi looked high and low for it as the shadows lengthened. Probably buried somewhere when she tossed it away, or maybe snagged on the body. Again, not a problem. If anyone found it, well, crossbow bolts got lost all the time.

    The thought of fresh venison was no longer as tempting as it had been. Looking at the carcass only brought a sense of nausea and revulsion. She left it there. No doubt that wolf would come back for it, or else some coyote or other forest dwellers would eat well tonight.

    With the sun setting and a north wind beginning to blow, Cassi made her way back up to the keep.

    A frozen hellscape surrounded Nair Keep. Winds roared like tormented dragons, driving great drifts of snow against the stone walls.

    The entire experience was new to Cassi, having slept every previous winter away under the influence of heaven oak bark. Stories of blizzards were one thing, but living through one...

    She shivered despite the warm fire and thick quilt. One trip outside to feed the animals had been enough. Just reaching the chicken run set up against the keep''s wall had left the tips of her fingers stiff and her feet practically frozen. Without fresh hot water bottles and another layer of clothes, the trip to the paddock might have killed her.

    At least keeping things up alone hadn''t been difficult before the storm. Really, there wasn''t enough work for one person, let alone two. Feed the animals, throw some jerky and dried roots into the stewpot, drag in firewood, occasionally check the hatchery and the rows of comatose dragonettes sharing space with clutches of eggs.

    All there was left to do was to work on the keep''s pile of tools. Blades needed sharpening, cracked handles replacing, and rust polishing away. It was slow, boring work, but passed the time.

    First, though, she had tended to the crossbow. A day lying in the mud hadn''t done it any favors. Cassi had taken every piece apart, cleaned and oiled them, and put them back together again before she was satisfied.

    It should have gone back into the armory after that. There wasn''t any reason to keep it in arm''s reach.

    And, yet, there was this feeling. A prickling sensation along her back and down her tail. Like something was watching her.

    "It''s just the guilt," she told herself for at least the hundredth time, and fought to keep her breathing under control.

    This time, she managed to keep it together. That wasn''t always the case. More than a few nights in the last week had seen Cassi waking in the dark with tears in her eyes and a wail on her lips. Sometimes the panic attacks would come on during the day, too. One moment she would be fine. The next, she would be leaning against a wall, crying her eyes out.

    Thankfully, those had gotten less frequent as the days went on and she accepted the fact that Sanara''s death had just been a terrible accident. Not her fault. Not something that she would need to pay for.

    "It was only an accident."

    Repeating the phrase like a mantra, she scooted her chair closer to the fire and snuggled further under the quilt. It wasn''t like day and night had much meaning in this weather. The animals had more than enough feed to last them until dawn and there weren''t any chores that couldn''t wait. There was no reason that she couldn''t just hunker down and wait for the storm to blow over.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    A dull bang jerked Cassi from her stupor.

    "What the fuck?"

    She jerked off the blanket and instinctively grabbed for the crossbow. It was already loaded and cocked, and she swung it towards the hallway.

    Nothing.

    A nervous chuckle escaped Cassi''s lips. She was almost ready to chalk the noise up to her imagination when she noticed the pitch of the wind had shifted. It was louder, with a whistling quality. And the strange sound was coming from above her. Definitely something that needed investigating.

    With a grumble, the dragonette pulled on her jacket and a pair of gloves. The keep might protect against the elements, but heating it all for one person would be a waste. Outside of the kitchen, the hearths were dark and empty.

    The hallway beyond was dark, lit only by the light of the lamp Cassi carried in her left hand. Her right held the crossbow.

    A cocked ear revealed the whistling was coming from the stairs. It was louder on the next level, and louder still above that. The air was also getting colder, and the chill was starting to bite through the leather jacket when she reached the bedchambers.

    Something clunked from up the hall and Cassi froze, trying to peer into the gloom. A line of pale light waxed and waned as another gentle thump sounded.

    Stepping forward, crossbow aimed into the darkness, she approached. Ready for anything, the lone dragonette lept around the corner and shouted, "Who''s there?!"

    Her question was left unanswered. And when the source of the noises revealed itself, it drew a nervous chuckle as the tension broke.

    One of the keep''s shutters had torn away in the wind. Gusts heavy with white snow pushed through the window and had set the door wobbling on its hinges.

    It wouldn''t be hard to fix. Once the storm abated and the weather warmed, at least. For now, Cassi grabbed a folded blanket from the bed and went to hang it across the narrow window. That would block the worst of it.

    Quite a bit of snow had already filled the room. It was just warm enough in the keep for those flakes to begin to melt, soaking the blanket. Already, the cold meltwater was seeping through the seams in her thick, leather gloves.

    Only, something seemed wrong. A pungent aroma wafted off of the bedding. Sharp. Metallic.

    She stepped back and the light from her lamp illuminated the scene. Lines of blue covered the blanket, and leaked out onto her gloves. Hesitatingly, she raised one and sniffed.

    Cassi''s nostrils flared at the unmistakable scent of dragonette blood.

    Shock hit her like an out of control dragon. And then it registered exactly where she was.

    This was Sanara''s room.

    A terrible scream howled through the night. Whether it was the storm or something hiding in it didn''t matter. Cassi snatched the crossbow from a table and aimed it out the window. But there was nothing to see in the perpetual twilight of the swirling snow.

    Something dripped onto the dragonette''s bare feet. Then again. A glance showed spots of blue speckling the white hide. Looking up to her crossbow, Cassi screamed and yanked the trigger. The bolt zipped into the storm, tumbling as it quickly disappeared from sight.

    She didn''t stay to watch. The lone dragonette was already running for the hallway beyond. Slamming the door, lamp forgotten, she sprinted for the stairs, navigating by touch and memory. Down one flight, then two, and all the way to the kitchens.

    The cookfire still burned brightly. Sparks erupted as Cassi threw the bloody crossbow into the flames. Her gloves followed. Fire licked at them hungrily, devouring the offering.

    Cassi watched, panting.

    What she had seen was impossible. It had to be. The blanket was one thing. It could be explained away as bad dye, running in the snowmelt.

    But there had been no mistaking what else she saw. The bloody bolt loaded in the crossbow. The torn fletching. The scrapes and nicks on the shaft. That wasn''t the one she had loaded.

    No, that had been the lost bolt that had taken Sanara''s life.

    The weeks had not been kind to Cassionie. It was clear from her hooded eyes, stained blue by lack of sleep. From the droop of her tail as she walked down the hill. From her shuffling steps that kicked rocks and clods of wet dirt from the path.

    It wasn''t even all that cold. Uncomfortable rather than deadly. Patches of snow sat in the shadows of trees and rocks, but otherwise the ground was clear.

    Cassi just kept her eyes forward, focused on the barn at the bottom of the hill. The animals were already out, sheep bleating to the heavens while the goats wove between them. That was her fault. She had forgotten to feed them the day before. Not for the first time, either.

    Sleep rarely came at night. She could only stare into the fire and try not to think. Whenever she started to drift off, something would jerk her back awake. Sometimes it was the whistle of wind or the distant howl of a wolf. Things she could explain. Then there were the other noises. Footsteps. Half-heard voices. Thumps and bangs.

    She investigated them at first. Armed with a kitchen knife, she had snuck through the halls of her own keep like a thief. There had never been so much as a door ajar. Not after that first night. Not after Sanara''s room.

    When she finally gathered the courage to return to that cursed place, the blanket had been sitting in a puddle of slowly melting snow. There wasn''t so much as a drop of blood on it. It might as well have been some twisted prophetic dream, except for the broken remains of the crossbow in the ashes of the cookfire.

    Eventually, Cassi had given up on chasing the noises. First, she tried ignoring them. That lasted only days before the sound of a child''s sobs had broken her.

    She had started yelling after that. Curses, mostly, mixed with the occasional plea. There was never any response.

    Livestock pressed into her as she entered the paddock. One goat reared up, pushing its forelegs against her side. She whirled, snarling at the animal. It flinched back, but not before catching a smack to the side of its head. The goat went sprawling, half of its scraggly coat covered in mud.

    Cassi ignored it, moving mechanically towards the hay shed. Likewise, she ignored the growing stench coming from the barn''s open door. It needed mucking out, but she just couldn''t muster the energy.

    There was a wooden-tined pitchfork in the shed. She grabbed it in ill-fitting gloves, and used it to hurl a pile of hay out onto the muddy ground. The flock immediately descended on it, devouring the food.

    Raising the tool up to get another load, she heard a noise from the barn and instinctively glanced in that direction. And froze.

    It was dark beyond the threshold, but Cassi could still see the stooped silhouette of a dragonette. One with a crossbow bolt sticking out of its neck.

    "You''re dead!" she screamed at the ghost. The pitchfork shook in her hands as she held it more like a talisman than a weapon. "Dead! Go away! Get the fuck out of here!"

    The shadow shifted, then moved, bolting out of the barn.

    "The fuck?" Cassi jerked away from the dirty-white streak. It left behind a piece of hay floating in the wind, dislodged from where it had rested on the sheep''s back.

    But the sight of the animal just enraged the dragonette.

    "No!" she screamed, terror flashing to raw fury. "No! That was not some dumb animal! I gods damn know what I fucking saw!"

    Cassi whirled and the sheep scattered, bleating in fear. "I know it''s you, Sanara! Just leave me alone! Leave me!"

    Not even a distant echo answered her. She hurled the pitchfork away so hard that it snapped in half as she roared, "Why?! Why?!"

    The screams left her panting. A pant caught, and it came out as a choked sob. Then the tears came.

    "I''m sorry! You know that, right? It was an accident and I''m sorry! But it wasn''t my fault! I didn''t... I didn''t... ARRRGGGGGHHHH!"

    Her only answer was the soft whisper of a cold breeze. Even the animals were silent, huddled against the far fence.

    "Damn it all!"

    Still breathing hard, Cassi grabbed a great armload of hay and threw it out of the shed. Two more followed before she slammed the door shut. The pieces of the pitchfork remained where they had fallen, untouched.

    "I''m not going to give up," the dragonette muttered as she hiked back up the hill. "I know what you''re doing. It won''t work. You''re dead. You died in an accident."

    As before, there was no reply.

    "You know why this won''t work? You know how I know? Because if you could have done anything, really done anything, you would have already. But you didn''t! So you can''t! You''re trying to break me, but it. Won''t. Work! You hear me? IT WON''T WORK!"

    The last was shouted so loud that a few birds exploded from their roosts in the distant treeline.

    Cassi snorted, and continued her trudge with a little more energy to her step. The woodshed caught her eye, and she changed course. All the screaming had warmed her up, and she was beginning to run low on firewood.

    Retrieving an ax and a few logs, she set one up and took a swing. The well seasoned wood split on the first hit. So did the next, and the one after that. Pretty soon, there was a good size pile of firewood sitting nearby.

    "It''s not even all that different than when you were here," Cassi said to herself as she set up another log. "All you did was bitch and complain while I did the chores. Maybe if you had been helping instead of off hunting then you wouldn''t be dead!"

    Another swing, and this time the ax head twisted at the last moment and skittered off the top of the log. It only barely missed taking a chunk out of its wielder''s leg on the way.

    A single dark laugh echoed off of the keep''s wall.

    The haft fell from suddenly numb fingers. Frantically, Cassi spun, searching for the source of the noise. She found nothing.

    "Who''s out there?! Where are you?!" she demanded.

    No response. Nothing, save for movement in a patch of snow, kept shadowed by the keep''s walls. In the center of that patch jutted the unmistakable shaft and torn fletchings of a crossbow bolt.

    Without another word, Cassi sprinted inside and barred the door behind her.

    The noises were back. Taloned footsteps thumped from the great hall, above the kitchen where Cassi sheltered.

    Even the thick quilt over her head did nothing to muffle the noises. It never did. They made it through woolen plugs and desperate fingers. Like they were in her head, not the keep around her.

    "You can''t do anything..."

    Even as she muttered the words that had become a mantra, she knew it was a lie. If nothing else, the weeks of torment had left the dragonette a wreck. Exhausted, grimy, wearing filthy clothes, and only venturing out for firewood. She barely ate, choking down a few strips of jerky and sips of water on the occasions she remembered.

    She stared longingly at the small keg of ale nearby. It had been meant for the spring awakening, but she had needed it more. It had given her three nights, three blessed nights of sleep. Then the miraculous liquid had run dry.

    At least the sheep and goats had finally ceased their incessant bleating. Those had been annoying. More than the chickens, which had given up right around the time she had broached the keg of ale.

    Without warning, Cassi tossed her blanket to the side and stood. Her eyes were lidded and her tail dragged across the floor, but she nonetheless grabbed the lamp.

    It didn''t want to light. Her magic was sluggish. A few sparks flew from her fingers with no heat behind them.

    "Light, damn you!" The sudden bolt of anger did the trick. A tongue of flame flared, hot enough to nearly burn her fingers.

    The thumping from above had ceased. It wouldn''t have mattered, anyway. There was never anything there. Occasionally there would be an open door that had been closed before. Or furniture that had been moved. Tapestries fallen and rugs dragged away.

    Maybe.

    It was hard to tell. Exhaustion turned memories hazy. And whatever was moving it was long gone by the time she could investigate.

    So Cassi didn''t go to the great hall. She walked almost aimlessly, peaking into pantries and closets as she passed. In the back of her mind was the vague hope of finding some forgotten keg of ale or dusty bottle of wine.

    There weren''t any. She had already checked, only stopping when she reached Lady Nair''s personal quarters. Her search had come up empty. Still, there was nothing else to do, and who knew? She might have missed something.

    Eyes that didn''t really see glanced over the shelves and peered into darkened rooms. Nothing new had magically appeared.

    Eventually, Cassi''s wandering brought her to the hatchery. The slight warmth washed over her as she stepped inside, although she hardly noticed.

    One wall of the room held the autumn''s clutches, arranged in their wool nests. Only four in total, clustered next to the brazier.

    A wood fired stove might have been cheaper, but the Lady had acquired this replacement a few years before. It used a number of enchantments and a reservoir full of flash gel to keep a small room heated for months. That was enough to keep the eggs safe.

    The other occupants of the room didn''t necessarily need the heat, but this was the most secure room in the keep. Dragonettes covered the floor, laid out on thin blankets. They packed the room, save for a single narrow path through their ranks.

    Cassi followed that path, slowly crossing through the mass of comatose keep dwellers. A small container sat next to the eggs. Innocuous enough on the outside, the clay jar held a supply of powdered heaven oak bark.

    She removed the lid and stared at contents like an addict would stare at her next fix.

    "It wouldn''t take much..." Just a pinch, and the nightmare would be over. She would sleep for weeks. Months. Wake up in the spring. Come up with a story then. After she was free of this curse.

    "Are you suuuure?"

    It might have been a voice. It might have been her own thoughts betraying her. At this point, it was impossible to tell.

    She replaced the lid and turned to leave.

    MURDERER.

    The word was scrawled across the heavy wooden door, blue blood so fresh that lines of it still oozed along the grains.

    Cassi shrieked fit to wake the dead. No one so much as twitched as she ran for the door, even after stepping on outstretched arms and wings.

    She tried to wipe the letters away. Scrape them off with her bare hands. The blood had already stained the wood. It smudged, but the core remained clear for all to see.

    "GO DIVE INTO THE OCEAN YOU BITCH!"

    Silence was the only response as Cassi scrambled out of the room and up the hall to the kitchen. She grabbed her drinking bucket and a rag before sprinting back to the hatchery. Half of the water spilled as she ran, but enough remained to soak the rag into before using it to scrub at the door.

    The rag came away blue with blood, and she dunked it in the water once more. Again and again she attacked the word. But it was like the door itself was bleeding. The letters never seemed to fade, and the water in the bucket only turned a darker shade of blue.

    "Why won''t you come off?!"

    The scream wasn''t directed at anyone. It was a scream at the world. At the heavens and the gods above. She didn''t expect an answer.

    "How can you hope to wash away this blood when your hands are still stained with it?"

    Cassi froze her desperate scrubbing, eyes wide and horrified. She couldn''t help but stare at her hands. The white hide was coated in a vivid blue, easily visible even by the dim lamp light.

    "They''ll find out. One way or another, they''ll know it was you."

    Something snapped inside of the terrified dragonette. "Shut up!" she screamed. "You''re dead! Dead!"

    A dark chuckle answered her. "So I am. What of it?"

    The voice came from all around. It oozed through her ears and lodged inside Cassi''s very mind. But unlike before, this time she had no doubt it was real.

    Frantically, she tried scrubbing her hands. Wiping them with a rag, then the dirty hem of her jacket. It only spread the stain further.

    "You left me out there to rot. Couldn''t even look me in the eye as I died. And now you''re trying to escape your due?"

    "It was an accident!" The scream was shrill and panicked, like the cries of a trapped animal.

    "Oh, an accident. Yes, I can see that now. The way you tried to hide it. The stories you concocted. The stench of guilt that hangs on your soul. Nothing but an accident."

    Contempt dripped from every whispered word. It hit Cassi like a physical blow, and she whimpered in response.

    "I''ve watched you try to escape your fate. But you won''t. I made a deal and I won''t let you."

    "If you could hurt me, you would have already!" The words rang hollow in front of the clear manifestation of the ghost''s power. But she pressed on. "You can''t touch me!"

    "Oh, I''ve already hurt you far more than a simple blade could hope to. But why would I need to so much as scratch one of your scales when they can do it for me?"

    Cassi was suddenly aware of the sleeping dragonettes around her. Who had been friends and comrades. That would change as soon as they awoke and discovered what had happened.

    "I won''t let you! I''ll stop you!" Her blue flecked eyes were wide as they darted across the room, hunting for any sign of her tormentor.

    More words oozed into her mind. They sounded faintly amused as they asked, "And how will you do that?"

    She would... She would...

    She didn''t know.

    Except...

    ''They can''t punish you if they''re dead.''

    The thought flitted through Cassi''s exhausted mind. The door had a heavy wooden bar on it. More than enough for a club.

    She couldn''t tell if it was her own idea or a horrible suggestion from the dark spirit haunting her. It didn''t matter. She couldn''t. She wouldn''t.

    ''Even if it does make sense... NO!'' A hard shake of the head banished the thought. She would figure something else out. She had to figure something else out.

    "How long until they wake?" the voice whispered. "Days? Weeks? Do you even know? I do. And until then, I''ll be watching."

    There was a flash, not of light, but of darkness. The room suddenly felt different. Emptier.

    Cassi turned around, slowly. Everything was as it should be. The rest of the keep still slumbered at her feet. The door was clean, save for a few rivulets of water. She looked down at her hands and they were the purest white.

    Her breath came in great, hiccuping pants. The world around her narrowed and her stomach suddenly constricted. The bucket was right there, and she grabbed it just before emptying the meager contents of her belly into it.

    Then she stared down, terror written in her pinned back ears and stiffened tail. Because the dirty water she held was unmistakably stained a dark, dark blue.

    A deep, bass drum beat inside of Cassi''s head.

    It had been there... she didn''t know how long it had been there. There had been a sunrise. Maybe more. Maybe it had been her imagination.

    Battles raged. Dragons roaring and the clash of swords and lances. Screaming. She could even smell the blood.

    The beat of the drum continued, and her vision pulsed blue in time with the thrum.

    Her mother had visited. Held her. Sung to her. Then she had played out in the sun with her friends. They had gotten all muddy, but it didn''t matter. And when she fell and scraped her knees, her mother had been there to wipe away the blood and kiss it better.

    Boom. Boom. Boom.

    Wolves howled among the embers as Cassi stared into the dying fire. Someone had stolen her firewood. Now the pile was empty. That was fine, though. She wasn''t cold. She just wanted to lay back and sleep.

    Her eyes drifted shut. Her breathing slowed. Consciousness retreated.

    Just before she passed beyond the veil, a ragged scream tore from her throat. She jerked up, panting, instinctively hunting for the source of her terror.

    Nothing.

    The same as every time before. Every time she closed her eyes. Every time she sought to escape this personal hell, something yanked her back.

    "Please..."

    Half whimper, half sob, it was the sound of a feral animal.

    A weight settled on her shoulder. A face entered her vision. Blurry and indistinct. She squinted and the features seemed to shift, like the play of shadow and light at the bottom of a rushing stream.

    "Well, look at you," the apparition mocked. "Half frozen. Half starved. You might as well be me. Except for, well..." It moved slightly, bringing the hole in its neck into view.

    Cassi didn''t have the energy to struggle. She just sat there, numb. But no matter how hard she tried to look past it and out into the distance, the vision was there.

    "The days are short. Nearly gone. Won''t be long, now. Midwinter, when the others will wake and learn of your crimes."

    Something was tossed into the fire. It flared, the seasoned wood of the crossbow stock catching easily among the embers.

    "I found it, drifting among the clouds," Sanara''s ghost answered the unasked question. "You need to keep your strength up. For when they wake."

    The shadowy face expanded to fill Cassi''s view. "Tell me, how will you defend yourself?"

    The dragonette struggled, weakly. Nothing held her but her own exhaustion. It still proved to be too much. After a moment, she slumped back.

    "Go away... you''re not real."

    "Oh? Does that matter?"

    The question reverberated in Cassi''s sleep-deprived mind. After a brief hesitation, she said, "Can''t tell them. You can''t tell them if you''re not real."

    "Hmmm..." Back and forth the spectral head rocked, considering the words even as the hum sent Cassi''s ears twitching. "You may be right. Are you sure, though?"

    Another question that should have an easy answer, but didn''t. "I... yessss... But... I don''t... I... I..."

    Her thoughts could barely move. They were packed inside an endless fog that floated with the consistency of thick cobwebs. Pushing any one way only led to getting lost and tangled.

    Eyes closed. Thoughts fell away. And then...

    This time she saw it. The source of her terror. An ocean of blood inside of her mind. She was drowning in it. Blue and endless and cold as ice.

    Her eyes snapped open and she choked on a gasp before it could become more.

    It couldn''t go on. She couldn''t go on.

    "If..." Cassi began, voice tiny and cracking. "If I tell them... Will you leave?"

    Teeth appeared in the apparition''s mouth, white and glistening in a malevolent grin.

    "Oh, Cassionie. I''m going to be with you until the day you die."

    The ember of hope was smashed flat. But a tiny spark caught on one final shred of resistance. It burst into a defiant inferno.

    Cassi lashed out with taloned fingers, trying to strike the figure in front of her. It was gone in an eyeblink. Laughter echoed from the hall beyond.

    A flood of strength she hadn''t known she possessed welled up in the tortured dragonette. There was an iron poker next to the fire. She grabbed it as she levered herself out of the chair and stumbled towards the door.

    The ghost stood there, sharp-toothed grin and bloody wound the only distinct features in the roiling shadow. Cassi lunged for it, but the figure dodged around the corner. The iron poker made a dull clang as it collided with the stone wall. It was drowned out by more of that mocking laughter.

    Another swing. Another miss, the ghost retreating just beyond the arc of the makeshift weapon, then further up the hallway.

    It continued deeper into the keep. Through empty rooms and darkened halls. Sometimes Cassi would blink and the ghost would disappear. But she just needed to follow that horrible laugh. Past doors and into the dark beyond.

    She didn''t need to see. She could hear. She would hear when the hard iron met soft flesh. She would smell the blood. Feel the shock up the handle. Taste the sweetness of victory.

    And there was the ghost. It seemed to suck in the darkness. A void within the void, just standing there.

    Bones crunched beneath Cassi''s feet as she advanced. A field of the dead. The tip of her makeshift sword scraped through the remains as she advanced.

    She was close. So close. A battle cry that was little more than a withered hiss tore from her lips as she charged.

    Nothing.

    No resistance as she struck. The iron whistled through empty air. She overbalanced, falling to her knees. The scattered bones tore at her, burned her.

    She tried to rise, tried to use the poker for support, but once more a hand settled on her shoulder.

    "I''m a part of you now," that horrible voice whispered. "You can''t get rid of me. Not like that. We''re... together."

    It couldn''t be true. It wouldn''t be true. She wouldn''t let it be true!

    With an explosive effort, Cassi drove the point of her weapon backwards. There was a shock of pain as it slammed through her own wing membrane. Then a grunt as it punched into something behind.

    A weight settled on her back. Heavy. Too heavy. She tumbled forward, and landed flat on the carpet of bones.

    There was a body on top of her. Unmoving. Dead weight.

    Light slowly returned. Blinding sunlight. Harsh and painful.

    Cassi forced her eyes open. Forced her head to turn and look at the thing on top of her.

    Sanara''s dead, cloudy eyes stared back at her.

    "I did it..." Her voice was barely a whisper, her laugh a wheezing cough. "I did it..."

    Slowly, the bones she lay on faded. They were replaced by white drifts of snow.

    "You''re gone... I did it... You didn''t break me..."

    She was still staring at the corpse''s face when the edges of its lips pulled back in a dark smile.

    Cold suddenly rushed in like an unstoppable army. Bone chilling, eye watering, muscle seizing cold. She wore no jacket. Brought no warmth. Her limbs were bare and her wings spread wide and bleeding slowly into the snow.

    "Nooooo..."

    She tried to struggle. Her limbs didn''t listen. They twitched, uselessly. Utterly spent, getting colder by the second, there was nothing she could do.

    The darkness was returning. It was stronger this time. Deeper. Utterly implacable. It wrapped around her in an icy embrace, holding her still.

    And as the world faded away, that voice whispered in her ear one last time.

    "Together until the day you die."

 Chapter 27: Goodwill

    After Aytin managed to get the request across, the wildlings were more than happy to help set up the camp. It didn''t take long before they had a large fire going. Then the three took turns flying armfulls of firewood back from the surrounding forest, until they had enough to keep the campfire fed throughout the night.

    Sadly, there wasn''t any game to be found. And so close to sunset, no one seemed particularly interested in searching further. Not after "enjoying" the tirox and apples so recently.

    Ness did produce a bag of dried nuts to share. Then Attalee passed around a bladder full of some sort of very rough beer. It was sour and still had bits of mash floating around, but Aytin drank his fill, anyway. After so long without any alcohol, even that weak brew left him with a mild buzz.

    Afterwards, the huntresses set up a watch while Aytin and Faelon bedded down for the night. That had been a point of some contention. Neither fully trusted the wildlings near so much wealth, but exhaustion had caught up to them.

    Just in case, Faelon curled up just beneath the cache. Anyone attempting to pilfer the supplies would be certain to wake him. Judging by the reactions of the wildlings, his mere presence should be enough to discourage their approach. So Aytin just laid against the dragon''s side and quickly drifted off to sleep.

    He woke not long after dawn. A red dragon was better at keeping the chill away than any hot water bottle ever made. Aytin''s muscles and joints were still stiff and sore from his recent trials, but it was the ache of exertion and not the lethargy that came with cold.

    An experimental twitch of his left wing brought a smile to his lips. There was only a hint of pain radiating from his wound. Closer inspection showed the swelling had almost disappeared.

    ''I''ll have to apply the medicine a few more times, just to be safe.''

    The morning was still chilly, so he retrieved his old coat from where he left it near the fire. Even if it was still a little musty from sitting in the trunk, he felt much more comfortable in it than the oversized one he had salvaged from the brigands. Plus, a night by the fire did wonders getting the worst of the smell out, and it felt deliciously toasty as he shrugged into it.

    Aytin squatted by the merrily blazing flames, and looked around for the wildlings as he warmed his hands and wings. Curiously, there was only a single blanket wrapped figure sleeping nearby. Their gear was still here, and someone had recently added an armful of wood to the campfire, so the others couldn''t have been gone long.

    The peace and quiet was nice. Without any immediate concerns, he could just sit there, staring into the fire, thinking about nothing. If he just had a bowl of porridge and a cup of tea, he could almost imagine he was back in the early days of his journey with Faelon and the crew.

    ''In fact...''

    There hadn''t been time to sort through the pile of supplies, but he still remembered where most of the crew rations were packed. The blue painted trunk stood out from the other cargo, and Aytin didn''t waste any time dragging it out of the pile. He also retrieved a pair of iron pots and filled them with water from the pool on the way back to the fire.

    To one, he added several scoops of oats and a pinch of salt. The other he simply covered. Both went into the coals at the edge of the fire to cook.

    They hadn''t left the apples behind with the tirox. Aytin grabbed a couple, and cut them into little bits. He added those to the pot of porridge.

    ''I wish I had some needlefruit syrup, but there aren''t any storerooms to raid around here.''

    He chuckled softly at the memory as he gave the pot a good stir. It was already beginning to bubble, so he shifted it slightly to keep it at a simmer.

    Meanwhile, the lid on the other pot was already beginning to rattle as steam escaped. He pulled it off of the coals, and dumped in a spoonful of dried leaves.

    Then Aytin sat back and waited.

    He didn''t have to wait long.

    The sound of wings beating drew his gaze. Rina and Ness appeared, each straining to carry pieces of a roughly dressed deer. They landed awkwardly, but kept their loads from falling to the ground.

    "You hunting," Aytin observed as the pair hefted their bounty.

    "We hunting," Rina agreed, with a broad smile.

    "Bow good?"

    "Bow amazing!" Her grin widened, revealing the gap in her teeth. "Thank you! Much thank you!"

    They joined him by the fire, setting the chunks of fresh venison on a cleared rock. Both of their eyes went wide as they saw the iron pots, but neither said anything about it. Aytin was relieved when they simply drew their flint knives and started butchering without comment.

    It was an efficient process, one they had obviously done many times before. The deer was a good sized buck, judging from the amount of meat. One with plenty of padding for the winter.

    Aytin motioned at a chunk of snow white fat on the carcass. After some gesturing, Rina cut him a strip, which he promptly speared on a stick. One quick sear later and he dropped it into the softening porridge.

    "It''s not butter or tallow, but it''s the next best thing," he explained when he got curious looks. The huntresses obviously didn''t understand, but he just didn''t have the vocabulary or the will to do more. They would get it soon enough.

    The sounds and smells had finally woken the other members of the group. Attalee was stirring under her blankets and Faelon had his eyes open and was silently watching them.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    A quick test with a fingertip confirmed that the tea had cooled to drinkable temperatures. He poured a measure through a cloth strainer and into a cup. It was strong and bitter and sent a rush to his head.

    This brew was a strong one. Reed and her crew had chosen it specifically to rouse the crew even in the earliest of mornings, and Aytin had probably let it steep a little too long.

    He handed the cup to Attalee, who was trying to blink sleep out of her eyes. Not having the words, he mimed drinking the brew.

    Suspicious, the older dragonette eyed him as she raised the cup and took a long sniff before sampling the tea. Her stiffened ears and crinkled snout made it clear what she thought of the bitter drink.

    "No good?" he asked, fighting to keep a smile from his own face.

    "Bad!" she confirmed, followed by several curses not in his limited repertoire of wildling.

    "No sleep." He let his eyes close and head loll before taking another sip, then sprung instantly to a caricature of alertness. "Tea."

    The last was added in his own language, but the senior huntress gave an understanding nod. She extended her hands with something approaching eagerness, and Aytin passed her back the cup. Attalee proceeded to drain half of it in a single long gulp.

    The other two huntresses accepted their own cups and sipped cautiously. Neither appeared to exactly enjoy the flavor, but they seemed to grasp the idea that the taste wasn''t the point.

    On the other hand, the bowls of porridge drew appreciative noises all around. It wasn''t like Aytin was all that good a cook - nearly ruining the tirox had proven that - but it was hard to mess up something so simple.

    Going back and forth with Rina between bites, it was clear that they didn''t have much in the way of grains. "Much meat," she answered when he asked what they ate. "Nuts. Apples." Aytin got a small frown at that.

    He didn''t catch the next word, and his expression showed it. "Apples, not apples," she clarified in their limited shared vocabulary.

    "Ah, fruit." Aytin nodded in understanding.

    "Yes, fruit. Greens." The huntress showed a handful of herbs she had apparently gathered earlier. They smelled like the ones that Voxin had used for their meals on the journey.

    "For...?" Aytin pointed at the pile of venison.

    "For deer."

    There was a small bag of salt in the ration trunk. Aytin retrieved it and opened the package to expose the white crystals within. "For deer."

    He took a pinch and flicked a tongue out. Hesitantly, Rina did the same. Her entire body went rigid and she stared at the bag like it was a cup full of honey.

    "Salt." Even heavily accented, the word was unmistakable.

    It also immediately grabbed the attention of the other wildlings.

    With a bit of reluctance, Aytin offered them each their own sample. It wasn''t that he was in danger of running out. Not with an entire barrel full. But it was another secret that he had inadvertently spilled.

    ''I should have known they wouldn''t have much salt here. After all, where would they get it?''

    There were a few salt flats on his home island that they used to make their own, and he knew other settlements mined theirs or else negotiated with traders for a supply. If they didn''t have anything like that on this island...

    The three were huddled together once again, speaking in low voices. With a sigh, Aytin left the bag of salt near the butchered deer and made his way over to where Faelon was watching.

    "I think I flew through it, again."

    But Faelon shook his head in disagreement. "No, they would have found out shortly, regardless," he assured Aytin. "After all, I prefer my meat well seasoned."

    "Ha. Ha." He did crack a small smile at the dragon''s teasing. "One more thing to trade, I guess."

    "And have you asked about that?"

    Aytin sighed. "No. Not yet. I don''t know enough of their language, and we have time."

    "Weeks. Not much more than two, and certainly less than four."

    Xantha had expected their journey to take two weeks each way, flying at twilight and through less traveled airstreams to avoid notice. She planned for another week or two for negotiations through some sort of intermediary, although Aytin figured that part wouldn''t take long. An unequivocal "no" would be a quick enough message to deliver.

    Doing some quick math, it seemed certain that the response had already been sent. ''Hopefully with Stonar and a party of guards to cut a strip out of Xantha''s wings.''

    But she had a dragon, and someone who could spend months playing a role certainly knew a thing or two about subterfuge. There wasn''t much chance that she would allow herself to be caught. In fact, if she wasn''t already on her way back, she would be shortly.

    "I''ll ask them soon," Aytin promised. "Once I get a better hold on their language. I wouldn''t want to cause a misunderstanding."

    "You seem to have a knack for that."

    Aytin gave him a suspicious look. "Languages or causing misunderstandings."

    "Both." Faelon paused a heartbeat, and then snorted a short laugh.

    "You''re in a fine mood today. Two whole jokes? From you?"

    The dragon shifted slightly. "It is a good day. Nothing is trying to kill us. We are well fed - or about to be." He glanced at the meat, still sitting on the impromptu cutting board. "And we have potential allies."

    The trio in question were still talking. In fact, it appeared that their discussion had turned into a hushed argument, complete with gesticulations and the occasional cut-off curses. Attalee seemed particularly animated, although her wide eyes and the slight twitch in her tail pointed as much to the stimulating effects of the tea as the subject at hand.

    "You don''t think they are going to betray us anymore?"

    "I remain cautious. We do not know their intentions. But..." Faelon let out a long, slow sigh. "Aytin, I am not stupid. I am well aware of my chances of survival should I face Xantha and her ilk alone."

    "I never thought you were stupid. Just... driven."

    The dragon gave him a searching look. "You inherited more of your mother''s diplomacy than you realize."

    "Yeah, well, it''s true."

    "It is, at that," Faelon agreed. "And it is true that I value retribution over my own life - Do not look at me that way," he ordered as Aytin winced. "You know how I feel, and that has not changed.

    "Yet, I know that I stand little chance of achieving justice on my own. It was simply my only possible chance. But now..."

    Faelon trailed off, but Aytin understood. "Now we have an opportunity to do more than throw your life away."

    The other simply nodded.

    "I don''t want you to die." Aytin said that quietly, so only Faelon could hear.

    "I... I am finding that I might prefer to avoid that fate after all."

    The conversation trailed off into silence after that. Both dragonette and dragon stared off into the distance, lost in thought of the past and, just maybe, their future.

 Chapter 28: Headwinds

    The pair sat together, staring off in companionable silence. They stayed that way for several minutes, until a commotion by the fire drew their attention.

    Apparently the wildlings'' argument had been resolved and, by the look of things, not to everyone''s liking. Ness in particular was stomping around, kicking rocks as she grabbed various items scattered throughout the camp.

    Aytin and Faelon shared a look. Curious, the dragonette wandered over and caught Rina''s attention. He pointed to Ness and made a questioning gesture.

    "Ness fly tribe. More we. More dragonettes."

    "She fly tribe?" Aytin asked, testing the new word.

    "She fly tribe. Get companion."

    ''Okay, she''s taking news back home and getting... someone?'' From the context, there seemed to be more to the word than he originally thought. "Get huntresses?"

    "Yes? No?" Rina looked a little uncertain. "Companion, yes. Huntresses, maybe."

    "Companion?"

    The huntress waved at him. "Companion."

    "Okay..." Maybe there were some connotations of that word he was missing. It would be interesting to meet this "companion", whoever they were.

    With just her bow and belt to weigh her down, Ness only needed a short run to get airborne. She made a few circles to gain altitude before flying off at a fast clip, on a course destined somewhere to the northwest.

    Exactly how far she was traveling wasn''t clear. When Aytin managed to ask how long she would be gone, the answer he received was, "Less day." Whether that meant an hour or getting back before their next breakfast was hard to say, and the huntress didn''t actually seem too sure herself.

    With Ness on her way, Rina returned to preparing the venison, now aided by both Aytin and Attalee. It didn''t take long to finish the butchering process and season the cuts with salt and wild herbs.

    The wildlings had balked at the amount of salt that Aytin was using. To them, it was probably like pouring an entire jar of honey onto a few apples. But eventually he managed to get across the idea that Faelon was providing the salt and it was what he wanted. They acquiesced, although neither seemed particularly happy about putting something so valuable on common deer.

    Most of the meat went over the coals to cook on spits. The scraps, Aytin added to the now empty porridge pot, along with water, the remaining seasonings, and a handful of oats. It was about as basic a stew as there was, but it would do.

    "Tribe?" Aytin asked as they were cleaning up from the butchery. He wanted to know more about the wildlings before trying to hire them as... well, mercenaries.

    "Tribe, yes?" Rina asked in return.

    "Uh..." He wanted to ask how many there were, but realized they didn''t have their word for numbers. With a shrug, he indicated the two of them as well as Attalee and held up three fingers. Then repeated, "Tribe?"

    "Ah." She clearly understood the question, but seemed unsure of how to answer. At first, she tried to hold up fingers, but quickly gave up the attempt.

    Suddenly, her eyes seemed to light up. There was a pile of firewood nearby, and Rina snagged a long, slender stick. After clearing a patch of dirt, she made ten deep dots. With each dot, she spoke a word, which Aytin dutifully repeated.

    "One, two, three..."

    When she was done, she circled all of the dots. Then she started drawing more circles, again accompanied by their number.

    "Twenty, thirty, fourty..."

    At a hundred, she stopped and held out one hand, silently counting. "Tribe hundred eighty dragonettes. Maybe."

    A hundred and eighty dragonettes was a good sized group. Larger than the population of most keeps, in fact.

    "Huntresses? Warriors?"

    Rina looked like she was about to answer when Attalee barked something at her. It sounded chastising, and the more junior huntress looked a little chagrined.

    "Sorry," she told Aytin, and shook her head.

    ''I guess Faelon isn''t the only paranoid one here.''

    He had been trying to get an idea of how many fighters they might be able to hire, but if some stranger came up to Luffin keep and started asking about how many defenders they could muster, he would be suspicious as well.

    Instead of hunting for some more innocuous topic, Rina turned the question around. "You tribe?"

    Deciding it couldn''t hurt to answer truthfully, Aytin replied, "Much flying. Much days." He pointed vaguely to the southwest.

    "Fly big water? Ocean?"

    He nodded. "Dragon fly much."

    "Dragon Faelon?" It was obvious what she was thinking.

    "Bad dragon," he explained. A snapped stick and pointing at his wing told the rest of the story.

    She looked incredulous. Maybe even a little sick. "Bad dragon break wing?"

    "Yes. Bad dragon break wing. Bad dragonettes break good dragonettes."

    "Good dragonettes?" She pointed at him, then spread her arms in question. "Others?"

    Aytin nodded. "Me. Others... more sleep? Bad sleep?"

    "Dead?"

    "Dead," he echoed. "Good dragonettes dead."

    "Bad dragonettes? Bad dragon?" Now she looked worried. And Attalee appeared to be listening intently from nearby.

    ''Why do I keep messing things up like this?'' Aytin turned towards Faelon, hoping for some guidance, but the dragon just returned his gaze curiously. ''Of course, he doesn''t know the language.''

    Sighing, he decided to answer truthfully. "Four bad dragonettes dead. Faelon make dead." He pointed back towards the ruined keep. "Bad dragon, bad dragonettes, fly my tribe."

    "Your tribe bad dragonettes?" Attalee demanded.

    Desperately shaking his head, Aytin said, "No! My tribe good dragonettes! Bad dragonettes..." How to describe demanding ransom? Should he even try?

    He set a pile of rocks in front of the senior huntress. "Yours." Then he snatched one away.

    That got a grudging nod. "Steal."

    "They steal my tribe. Steal," he pointed at the pile of supplies. "Faelon and I fight." Aytin picked up his spear and jabbed it in the air. He was exaggerating his own actions in the ambush, but that didn''t really matter.

    Attalee''s next question wasn''t one they had words for. It took some gesturing and back and forth to get the question across, but in the end the point was clear. She wanted to know if the brigands would return, and when.

    Aytin thought about consulting with Faelon. He wasn''t ready for this conversation. He didn''t know enough of the language and the senior huntress was looking unhappier each time he opened his mouth. But he knew that evading the question would make them look even worse.

    The best option would be to continue the course he had started on. "They return here," he confirmed, and saw Attalee''s expression harden. "Maybe seventeen days. Maybe twenty-five days. Bad dragonettes come, Faelon fight. I fight."

    "You bring death. Dragon Faelon brings death."

    With a few quick steps, Attalee took to the skies. The senior huntress didn''t travel far, just to the top of the canyon walls. But it was beyond easy reach for anyone without working wings.

    Rina looked unhappy as she explained her leader''s words. She appeared hurt, and maybe even betrayed.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    It made Aytin feel sick. He hadn''t done anything to hurt these people. If he did nothing, they would probably escape notice when the brigands returned. But if he and Faelon recruited them, some would certainly die. Maybe all of them.

    He wouldn''t lie to them about that. If worst came to worst, he and Faelon would face Xantha and Kalthor and all the others alone. And then they would both die.

    ''I have to convince her,'' he thought to himself. ''I have to.''

    Attalee was the senior huntress. She was the one Rina would follow, even if it was grudgingly. And it was her word that would carry the most weight with the rest of the tribe.

    How, though? He needed to explain. To make her understand what he and Faelon were fighting. How much the tribe stood to gain from helping them.

    And he needed a peace offering.

    "What happened?" Faelon asked as Aytin stood and strode past. "What did they say?"

    "I told them about Xantha and the rest. They weren''t happy."

    "Ah."

    The word didn''t come with any condemnation, but Aytin felt it all the same.

    "They''re not dumb," he said, as he started picking through the cache, looking for something in particular. "They have eyes, and they can see that we don''t exactly look like conquering heroes. Hells, I wouldn''t be surprised if Attalee thinks we''re thieves. We have this big pile of loot and we''re being chased. Sounds pretty suspicious when you put it that way."

    Faelon bristled slightly at the insinuation, but seemed to accept the logic after a moment''s thought. "A point. How do we convince them otherwise?"

    One of the boxes looked about the right size, but it was filled with bolts of fabric. Aytin set that one aside before he answered. "I don''t know if we do."

    Faelon''s eyes narrowed. "We are no thieves."

    "No, but we can''t prove it. At the very least, we can come across as honorable thieves."

    He got a snort in response, and allowed himself a small smile. "Yes, I know. But we fed them, gave them gifts, and treated them with hospitality. Hopefully, our actions carry weight. And continue to do so."

    Another crate looked like a likely candidate. This time, he was rewarded by softly clinking metal as he pried it open, and he smiled down at the contents.

    The perfect peace offering for a huntress.

    Rina was waiting for him when he returned. She cast a questioning look at the small wooden box he carried. "What?"

    "Good," was all that Aytin would say. He needed the words to express what would come next.

    They talked for hours, only stopping to tend the fire and remove meat from the flames as it cooked. Aytin made Rina carry the first of the steaks to Faelon. To the oceans with mystery, they needed to see that the dragon wasn''t some kind of monster.

    The huntress was practically quivering as she approached, steaming meat held out on strips of freshly cut bark. But Aytin had insisted, and swore that she would be safe.

    Faelon was gracious as he bent his neck down and almost delicately snapped up the first piece of venison. Rina looked like she wanted to bolt, but Aytin put a steadying hand on her shoulder.

    "Thank you." The dragon had learned that much of the wildling tongue, at least.

    "You... you are welcome," Rina managed in response.

    To Aytin, he said, "Please tell her that this is delicious. I have not eaten better in some time."

    The dragonette nodded. "Faelon say meat good," he relayed to Rina. "No eat much good meat in many days. I bad make meat." The last was said with a self-deprecating smile. She had eaten some of his tirox, after all.

    Rina nodded, jerkily, before withdrawing. Aytin followed right behind, as Faelon enjoyed his meal.

    They went back to their language lessons, occasionally pausing to sample the stew or turn the tougher cuts of meat slow-roasting over the fire.

    Attalee was still on her perch above the camp. It was hard to tell if she was on watch for threats from within or without, and Aytin did his best to ignore her.

    That was, until the sun had risen just past its zenith. After just a few hours, he wasn''t fluent in the wildling tongue. Far from it. They had an odd way of speaking and strung words out in ways that didn''t sound right.

    But once he had realized that, everything began to fall into place. There was a flow to the way Rina spoke, and words were easier to place once he got used to it. Some were still unfamiliar, but it was easier to guess their meanings. And with practice, he was beginning to pick out more familiar words behind the accent.

    It would have to be enough.

    "Attalee, we need to talk!"

    The senior huntress flicked an ear dismissively at Aytin''s call. "About what?"

    "All things." When she didn''t immediately move, he added, "Please."

    Grumpily, she rose to her feet and took to the sky. Circling the camp twice to gain altitude, she tucked her wings and dove like a falcon on a rabbit. It looked as if she were going to slam into the rocky canyon floor, but at the last moment, Attalee flared. In an impressive display of skill, the senior huntress came to a stop within arm''s length of the source of her ire.

    "Well? I wait."

    But Aytin didn''t back down. He looked up to the taller dragonette and resolutely returned her stare.

    "Faelon and I do not mean to bring death."

    Attalee snorted. "But you do."

    "We may. We bring death to enemies. Enemies may bring us death. Not you."

    He didn''t catch every word of the other''s response, but he caught the idea. "Empty promises."

    "We could have no death. Could hide. Not hard. Forest big." Aytin waved expansively all around him. "Hard look. Big look."

    "Dragon find you."

    She seemed so sure that he hesitated. ''Does she think dragons have some sort of magic? That might explain it.'' Aytin knew that like all dragonettes, the wildlings held magic. Rina had seemed familiar with the concept, at least, although she did not volunteer what her own talent may be.

    Explaining that dragons had no magic beyond their breath and resistance to their particular element wasn''t the point of this conversation, and Faelon wouldn''t appreciate Aytin giving away all of his secrets. Not when the truth would work just as well. "Dragon not find Faelon before. Look days. Think him dead. We hide, they not find.

    "And we not hide. We fight. Fight evil."

    "They corrupt? They darklings?"

    Faelon didn''t need to know the language to understand those words. They were close enough to his own tongue that his eyes narrowed in recognition. But they had briefly discussed what Aytin was about to say, and so he did not interrupt.

    "No, not darklings," Aytin admitted. "Leader looked good friend. Not a friend. Thief. Kill dragonettes. Kill friends. She evil."

    Attalee''s condescending demeanor shifted to something not quite so hostile. But she wasn''t stupid. She knew there was a catch.

    "You fight dragon, you die. You want us to fight. You want us to die."

    "We do not want you to die," Aytin insisted, and then took a deep breath. "We ask you to fight."

    Her hard, bitter laugh cut like a knife. "We fight dragon, we die. Not our fight."

    "Not your fight," he quickly agreed. "Faelon kill evil dragon." That was technically true. No doubt Faelon would claim that kill, but he would need help to do it. Both to get Kalthor on the ground and keep the blue dragon there. He did not mention that right then.

    "Need help to fight evil dragonettes. Ask help to fight."

    "Ask." Her word came out almost like a curse, and Attalee glared at Faelon. With how much fear and awe the wildlings seemed to hold for the dragon, that must have taken an iron will to pull off. But she managed.

    "Ask," Aytin repeated. "First, we give gift."

    The small box was sitting where he had left it. Aytin removed the top with a flourish. Inside, nestled in little beds of straw, were several dozen metal arrowheads.

    Most were simple iron hunting tips, with a few broadheads mixed in. A handful were even the narrow hardened steel design used to punch through armor.

    Neither huntress could disguise their interest in the bounty. It would have been like throwing open a chest full of gold or mithril back home.

    Still, Attalee was wary. And Rina followed her leader''s example. She had been listening to the conversation, and Aytin could tell that parts of it hadn''t pleased her.

    "Gift for help?"

    "No, gift for gift," Aytin explained. "You give help, we give more metal, more steel, more salt. Bow is gift," he said, indicating Rina''s new weapon. Then he pointed to the stew pot. "Deer is gift. This," he picked up the box of arrowheads and extended it, "is gift."

    Hesitantly, the senior huntress reached out and plucked a steel broadhead out of its straw nest. The gray point shone dully in the sun as she turned it over in one hand. Her jaw was clenched and ears immobile, like she was trying to keep any expression off of her face. Whether that was good or bad was impossible to say.

    "Hello the camp!"

    The shout was so unexpected that everyone jumped. Attalee blanched as she dropped the arrowhead to the rocky ground. She seemed terrified that the fall had damaged it, but of course the steel didn''t have so much as a scuff.

    Four wildlings were descending from above. Ness was in the lead, and it had been her shouted greeting that surprised them.

    Two of the others had the look of guards or scouts. They each clutched spears and wore similar garb to the trio he had first met. Between that and their short bows, they were likely fellow hundresses. Both women barely spared a glance for the unfamiliar dragonette. Their attention was fully focused on Faelon.

    The last of the group stumbled as he landed. He was the only male among them, and the flight had obviously been hard on him. Panting and wheezing, he nonetheless pushed himself to his full, if average height.

    He was unarmed, save for what looked like a knife in his belt. And his clothing was far from the practical wear of the rest. It was baggy in places, as if sized for someone bigger than he was, and embroidered with intricate patterns of stitching. The whole thing was dyed various shades of blue, in a pattern that seemed more like a patchwork than a deliberate design.

    "Companion Cue," Attalee said, formally.

    The young man - and Aytin realized that the oddly dressed dragonette couldn''t be much older than he was - completely ignored the senior huntress. Like his escorts, his attention was fixed on Faelon.

    Attalee frowned as he began to step purposefully towards the dragon, but she didn''t move to stop him.

    He was the first wildling they had seen who didn''t seem terrified of Faelon. In fact, his ears were pricked and eyes wide in a look of pure awe as he stopped, just a few wingspans away from the enormous red dragon.

    Faelon looked down at the dragonette with curiosity. He didn''t know nearly as much wildling as Aytin, but he knew a few words.

    "Hello. I am Faelon."

    Whatever either of them had expected, it wasn''t the wildling prostrating himself in front of the dragon. Their mouths hung open, ears forward and eyes wide as the dragonette began to chant.

    "Dragon Faelon! Dragon Faelon! Dragon Faelon!"

 Chapter 29: Bearing the Pain

    "It will hurt." The older dragonette bared his teeth in an exaggerated grimace. "Much pain."

    "But you can heal it?"

    "Heal it? The wing is healed now. That is the problem." He pointed at the healthy blue membrane beginning to show through beneath peeling scabs. "I cut membrane, then heal pieces. Cutting membrane hurt much."

    Aytin shivered, the memory of Xantha plunging the red hot knife into his wings so vivid that he nearly yanked them from the healer''s gentle grasp. The idea of doing that voluntarily...

    "Thank you, Agon. Pain not kill me." He hoped. "Can I help? Do you need anything?"

    "A sharp knife," the healer replied. "One which stays sharp. I can use flint, but the cuts will be bad. It take days to heal. And strong drink," he added, almost as an afterthought. "For you."

    There was a silver bladed scalpel in the cache. Aytin had found it in a healer''s kit among one of the crew''s belongings. It was certainly sharp enough to reopen the edges of his wounds so that Agon could use his healing talents to fuse them together once more.

    Strong drink was another matter.

    Spirits were expensive and there weren''t any among the general cargo. Some of the crew may have had the coin for personal supplies, but if so then they had gone through them well before the ambush.

    The wildlings brewed a sort of weak beer. He could probably get a fair supply of the stuff, but it would take quite a lot of it to dull the pain of having bits of his wings carved away. Probably more than he could drink in a single sitting.

    He did recall one of the medicines in the cargo claimed to reduce pain. ''Worth a try, I guess.''

    With a nod, Aytin rose. "Thank you, Healer Agon. I go to get knife. I come back soon." He gave a bow, which the healer returned.

    "I wait. Drink your tea." He indicated the steaming cup. Agon was one of the minority of wildlings that appreciated the bitter brew. But those few were consuming the stuff at a rate that made Aytin happy the cargo had included quite a bit of it.

    Outside of the healer''s tent, Rina was waiting for him.

    "Agon can fix you?"

    "Yes. I know you hear him. The tent is not big."

    She smiled widely and prodded him in the side. "Agon is the best healer."

    "I want so."

    "You hope so?" she asked with a cocked head.

    "Hope so," Aytin corrected.

    They passed by a quartet of wildlings as he led the way to the cache.

    He hadn''t had much interaction with Verk and Okoni, the pair of huntresses who had arrived with Cue. And the two newcomers that had just arrived with Agon were complete strangers.

    The previous two days had been whirlwinds of activity. After Cue''s arrival, the huntresses had set about expanding the camp with a will. Between guard duty and hunting expeditions to feed Faelon''s draconic appetite, they had built several wooden shelters and dug out a large, stone lined fire pit, and even dug a latrine a short walk down the canyon. When Aytin dug the large canvas tent out of the cargo, they had helped erect it, and made appreciative noises about its strength and light weight the entire time.

    All the while, Aytin had worked to learn their language. Mostly from Rina and Ness, although the latter ended up on courrier duty once more to go and fetch Agon. Attalee continued to remain slightly distant and the newer huntresses seemed unsure of him. Of course, there was also Cue, but the wilding Companion was a different story.

    Okoni saw him approaching and elbowed one of her companions. Almost as one, all four of the wildlings stood and bowed.

    Aytin did his best to hide his discomfort at the attention, nodding at each in turn. His new status among the wildlings was something he was still getting used to.

    ''If I ever need my ego cut down, I''ll just go talk to Attalee. She couldn''t care less, no matter what Cue says.''

    "What do you think about?" Rina demanded. She also didn''t seem to care about his lofty status as Faelon''s "companion". And unlike her boss, she wasn''t an ass about it.

    "Nothing important." It was true enough. He still got another poke in response. "Ow!"

    "Tell me the truth," she ordered with a sly grin.

    "It is the truth!"

    He managed to dodge the next jab. "You too scared to do that before."

    "No," she countered. "Did it when we meet."

    "I try when we meet, not you! You stop me!"

    Rina made a show of thinking it over and then deliberately shaking her head. "No, I do not remember that."

    This time, it was Aytin who managed to land a taloned finger right at the base of the huntress''s wing joint. She squawked indignantly and gave him a look of mock betrayal.

    "Remember now?"

    She flicked a long tongue at him and he flicked his ears in response. But they were both smiling.

    Then Rina''s smile faded a little. "I am not scared now because I know you are like us," she said before shaking her head slightly. "No, you are different. But not like a companion."

    "Oh? And what is a companion like?"

    "They-"

    She was cut off by an enthusiastic shout. "Companion Aytin!"

    He winced internally as Cue came striding over at a pace just a little too fast to be called dignified.

    "Good morning Companion Cue," Aytin said, keeping a smile fixed on his face and remembering to use the honorific.

    The wildling beamed at him. "It is, it is. You talk to healer Agon? He can fix your wings?"

    "Yes, that is what he say to me."

    "Good, good!" He clapped in satisfaction. Nothing about the shaman ever seemed to stay still, from his swishing tail to how he seemed to bounce back and forth. If he could harness that nervous energy, the dragonette ought to be able to build an entire keep in a week.

    Not that he seemed inclined to use it in such a constructive manner.

    "You fly to the elders." It stopped short of an order. Cue would never give Aytin an order. But it was a strong suggestion. "They must hear you speak for Dragon Faelon. Must agree to help," he finished, earnestly.

    Aytin nodded, gravely. "Yes, Cue. I do that."

    If the shaman noticed the edge of exasperation in the words, he chose to ignore it as he bobbed his head up and down like a tree in a windstorm. Rina, on the other hand, shot him a pointed look. She didn''t seem to appreciate any disrespect towards her tribe''s spiritual leader.

    ''No matter how annoying he is.''

    "Agon is a great healer," Cue went on.

    "Yes, Rina and others tell me." Aytin hoped that the other male would get the hint, but no such luck.

    "He teach me. I learn all he teach," the shaman went on with obvious pride.

    "You are a healer too?"

    That was surprising.  Cue was a mage, one of the small minority of dragonettes who could channel their magic rather than use it as part of a single talent. Apparently, he was the only wildling in the tribe with that gift. Whether he was any good with it remained to be seen.

    Mages could use their power to work rituals or enchant certain materials. That gave them significantly more potential than most dragonettes, but it was rare for them to be able to copy most innate magical talents.

    For the first time, Cue seemed to still. "No, I am not a good healer. I know a few spells. My magic?"

    Aytin nodded at the explanation for the unfamiliar word.

    "I know a few spells, but none for healing," Cue repeated. "To be a Companion, I have to learn much about many things. So I learn with Agon."

    "Yes, Agon is very good," Aytin agreed, and sensing a lull in the conversation added, "I must go now. Must talk to Faelon."

    He started edging towards where the dragon was resting at the rear of the canyon, but Cue''s expression lit up. "May I come? I would love to give respect to Dragon Faelon!"

    Rina gave him another look, so Aytin suppressed a sigh. "It is a short talk. I must get things and go to Agon." As the dragonette''s ears drooped in disappointment, he quickly added, "But you may come and listen."

    Nodding profusely, Cue fell in beside him with Rina bringing up the rear.

    "The hunters bring lots of good deer, yes?" He motioned towards a pair of bucks, their hind legs tied to branches so they could bleed.

    "They do," Aytin agreed noncommittally.

    "Deer tastes good with salt. You have more?"

    It was a leading question if Aytin ever heard one. He decided to borrow just a little weight to throw around.

    "Faelon likes his deer with salt. He will give salt to make his food. There may be extra if he is happy."

    The mention of the dragon ended the wheedling before it even started. Cue immediately bobbed his head and the matter was settled.

    It wasn''t like Aytin was being stingy with the supplies. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was following Faelon''s suggestions and offering just enough to show the wildlings what they had to gain, but not so much that they were satisfied with what they had.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    So Aytin made sure to provide salt and grain and tea for the meals, and pass out the occasional gift. He almost always tried to come up with some sort of pretext for those gifts, but it was like exchanging a handful of gold for a hot meal.

    The brief exchange was all Cue had time for before they reached Faelon. Aytin silently thanked the gods for that as he approached the dragon while the wildlings looked on unobtrusively.

    "And how is the great god of the island doing today?" he asked, a hint of mischief in his words.

    Faelon did not seem appreciative of the humor. "Do not let the church hear you say that. It would be the oceans for both of us."

    "And what happens when they find out about all of this?" He motioned at the wildlings subtly and not so subtly watching their conversation. Not that any of them spoke the language. They were simply interested in anything that their god did.

    "I do not plan to mention this to the church or their inquisition. Do you, companion?"

    He simply shook his head, expression souring.

    It hadn''t taken long after the Cue''s arrival to piece together the true meaning of that particular word. Mage, shaman, priest; all three were apparently bound up in the term. Just like ''Dragon'' meant more than the creature to the wildlings. This whole time, they had actually been calling him a god.

    "They had to be dragon worshipers..." Faelon let out a long, tired sigh.

    Nodding in understanding, Aytin took a seat nearby. "At least Cue is making things easier for us."

    The wildling shaman puffed up at the sound of his name. Between his oversized ceremonial robes and not being much more than average height for a male, the action looked just a little ridiculous.

    Thankfully, Faelon refrained from letting any emotions show. He even gave a brief nod towards the wildling shaman. "I could wish that this was simply a business transaction. Which is what you must say when you return to civilization."

    "I will. If I make it, I mean."

    He couldn''t keep the flash of guilt off of his face.

    "The healer said he could fix you." It was a statement, not a question.

    Aytin cast his eyes down as he nodded.

    "That... that is good news."

    Even the wildlings could sense the tension in the air. Most of them did their best to turn their attention elsewhere. Rina and Cue had no such option, and both looked distinctly uncomfortable. Their god was unhappy and they didn''t have the faintest idea why.

    "Faelon..." Aytin stood and moved to lay a hand against the dragon''s massive foreleg. It was like a hatchling petting a draft animal, but he still felt the muscles stiffen beneath his touch. "Faelon, I''m not going to leave you."

    He got a sigh and a hard look in response.

    "I''m not." There was steel in his voice.

    "You say that now. And when we kill the traitor, what then? You will live here among the wildlings for the rest of your days? When you know that Lazon''s Rest is a mere day''s flight away?"

    His voice was tinged with anger, but it wasn''t directed at the dragonette. More at the world and the gods that just didn''t seem to care.

    "Faelon, don''t take this the wrong way, but you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and think."

    The dragon jerked and his expression was one of hurt and betrayal. But Aytin held his ground.

    "Didn''t you tell me just a few days ago to look for solutions, not problems? Well, you''re just focusing on your problems."

    "That is easy for you to say. You have found a solution to your problem." Faelon twitched the stump of his missing wing and bitterness edged into his words.

    Aytin winced a little, but he didn''t let up. "I did. And it''s so much worse for you than me. I know that nothing I come up with is going to magically get you into the air again.

    "But at least we can make it better than sleeping out in the rain and eating nothing but roasted venison for dinner every night."

    Faelon looked like he wanted to argue. But he paused with his enormous maw half open to consider his friend''s words. After a moment, he exhaled a long breath. "Explain."

    "Well, it''s like you said. We''re just a half-day''s dragon flight from the closest settlement. There''s no reason why they couldn''t come to us. Traders, I mean. Once they know that we''re here."

    "Hmmm..."

    To his credit, Faelon considered the idea. Eventually, he nodded slightly. "Perhaps. There would have to be something here to draw them. They do not operate on charity."

    "Well, there was a keep here once. Someone built it here for a reason. That reason probably still exists."

    "Do the wildlings know why it was first abandoned?"

    Aytin shrugged. "I asked, but it was decades ago and they avoided it when it was occupied. There wasn''t any disaster, at least, and no massive darkling raid, either. They watch for those, and one of the responsibilities of huntresses is to scout for any corruption."

    "Well, if someone were looking to fill the keep, they would have no difficulty finding volunteers among the inner cities and keeps to emigrate. Whether or not they will be worth anything is the question."

    "I bet that there are junior huntresses looking for opportunities. Our keep has lost a few to the frontiers. Some of them are willing to risk the wilderness for the chance to be in the upper ranks. Or they just don''t like the structure of more established keeps."

    Faelon''s words took on a resigned tone as he said, "I suppose that a life of pulling a plow or carting about firewood is better than chasing tirox for my meals."

    It was further than Aytin had thought ahead and his own expression fell. The lot of a crippled dragon was often manual labor for there was little else that they could do.

    "We''ll keep thinking," he said with forced confidence.

    "We shall." And if Faelon did not sound precisely happy, his tone lacked the feel of the condemned. As if to avoid further reflection on his situation, he asked, "When will the healer start on your wings?"

    "As soon as I get him some supplies," Aytin replied. "He says it''s going to hurt."

    "I can imagine. Some of my crew suffered torn wings over the years. Sometimes far from healers. The treatment is... unpleasant."

    "Any suggestions?"

    Faelon cocked his head in thought. "Avoid having your wing torn."

    That got a weak smile in response. "Ha. Ha. And if that''s not an option?"

    "Strong drink and a piece of rawhide to bite."

    "Well, we have plenty of the second." Aytin motioned to the recently killed deer. "I really could do with the first, though. Know anything about making cider? We still have a bunch of those apples."

    "I do not. But it sounds as if you are avoiding things," Faelon said pointedly.

    "Well, nothing I''m hearing is making this any easier." The dragonette took a deep breath and nodded to himself. "Wish me luck."

    Aytin stepped away and climbed up to the cache. Both Cue and Rina followed on his heels. By unspoken agreement, the wildlings never approached the pile of supplies on their own, but they took any opportunity they could to peer at the treasures within.

    "What Dragon Faelon say?" the shaman almost demanded.

    It took a few moments to switch back to the wildling tongue and come up with an answer. "We talk about the fight. And he say to heal well."

    "A blessing," Cue said with a firm nod.

    "Yes. Something like that." The last he added in his own language as he began going through boxes.

    They were more organized than they had been originally. Aytin had spent an entire afternoon going through them as he spoke with Rina and the other wildlings.

    He was looking through the smallest pile, consisting of the items he felt were most valuable. Or most valuable to the current situation, at least. It made for odd priorities, like storing coin purses with bulk bundles of hides. But medical supplies were definitely of the utmost importance.

    Shifting through the crates and packages unearthed a particular item that made the young dragonette frown. It was the one thing in that pile that he couldn''t use, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

    The lockbox was a rectangular steel container about half the size of his travel trunk and reportedly packed with the most valuable items the trader had carried. Not only the expedition''s funds, but things like expensive fabrics, fine liquor, potions, and a few enchanted tools. Anything whose value and small size made it a target for thieves. Nothing extraordinary according to Faelon, but that single box contained a not insignificant chunk of the cargo''s worth.

    Unfortunately, it was magically locked and sealed with a number of enchantments that would make forcing it open without damaging the contents nearly impossible.

    To make matters worse, he knew exactly where the key was.

    ''Gods damn Xantha.''

    The traitor had bragged about it before heading for Luffin keep to deliver her ransom demand. She had kept quiet about exactly how she had managed the feat, but stealing the key had apparently been one of the reasons she embedded herself into the crew. And with the death of their original leader, successfully retrieving it had cemented her place as the top brigand.

    Without the key, the lockbox wasn''t any more useful than a bag of rocks. Well, a skilled mage might be able to open it, but...

    Aytin shot a surreptitious glance towards Cue. The shaman was perusing a crate full of fabric. Not touching anything, but obviously coveting the bolts of white cloth.

    ''Maybe I should ask him to take a look?''

    That was a thought for another time, though. Maybe after a few carefully worded questions. Even if Aytin desperately wanted one of the bottles of aged wine reportedly within, it would take a competent mage hours or days to crack the enchantments. They didn''t have that time. So he got back to searching through the supplies until he found the box of medicines and the purported painkiller.

    The ink on the handwritten label had run a little, so it took some time to decipher the instructions. It appeared that when steeped into a tea, the herbal mixture could relieve joint pains and headaches.

    "Well, that''s about as useful as gilded wings," Aytin muttered.

    There was a small container of Heaven Oak bark for northern keeps that lacked easy access to the massive trees. Using it to go into hibernation had a certain appeal, but once again, there wasn''t time to sleep for days or weeks.

    "What are you saying?" Rina asked. Cue was a few paces away, having moved on to examining a box full of tools, and hadn''t heard the muttered words or was too engrossed to care.

    "I hope this is for pain. It is not." Aytin held up the ceramic jar.

    The huntress examined it closely. "What is it for?"

    "Small pain." He rubbed his shoulders and then around the base of his horns like he had a headache. "It will not help."

    She winced in sympathy. "Healer Agon will be fast. He is the best."

    "I''m sure," Aytin agreed. "Bad is I do lots to heal wings. Must hurt them again to fix."

    He had to struggle a little to get the point across. Talking about the past and the future in the wildling language wasn''t something he was comfortable with. They had a strange way of mangling the words that he doubted he would ever fully grasp.

    Eventually, Rina got the gist of his words. "I cannot help. I know herbs for pain, but same pain as that." She gestured at the medicinal tea.

    "I have this," he said as he cut a strip from one of the bundles of hides in the cargo. Wrapped into a tight cylinder, it would make a fine bite guard. "I will live."

    A voice in the back of his mind insisted that something else in the cargo would help him. He would just need to search a little longer. Aytin quashed that voice. Agon had been waiting long enough and all he was doing was putting off the inevitable.

    At least the scalpel was where he remembered it, in a small leather bundle along with various other medical implements. He grabbed the entire set, intending to see if Agon could make use of it.

    Cue looked disappointed to be dragged away from examining the treasures. He seemed almost as fascinated by them as he did with Faelon. And he hadn''t been any more interested than the other wildlings until Aytin had mentioned that the dragon had brought them to the island. Then they were suddenly gifts from his god''s own hands or something.

    Thankfully, the shaman didn''t seem interested in accompanying him to the healer. When Aytin informed him of his next stop, Cue made an excuse and wandered off.

    "He go to look at Faelon more," Aytin whispered to Rina once he was sure the other dragonette was out of earshot.

    The wildling huntress looked like she was simultaneously scandalized and trying to hold back laughter. "Companion Cue is important!" she admonished.

    "He is... not many years?"

    "Young. Yes. Learn from Companion Nocta, but she die two years ago. Now he is Companion."

    "Okay..." It made a sort of sense, he guessed. The question was how far this young shaman''s opinion would carry with the true leaders of the tribe.

    That thought at least managed to occupy his mind until he reached the entrance to Agon''s tent.

    Aytin took a deep breath, only to be brought up short by a hand on his shoulder.

    "I am here," Rina told him as she pulled open the leather flap in front of the tent. "I will help."

    From inside, Agon eyed them curiously as the huntress gave his shoulder a tight squeeze. Then she guided him inside with a pressure that was every bit as unyielding as it was gentle.

    The healer accepted the proffered tools and made appreciative sounds over their quality as Rina guided Aytin to the sleeping mat. Light flooded the once dim tent as Agon opened a flap, allowing a beam of sunlight to illuminate the makeshift surgery.

    Aytin could sense the healer''s approach even if he couldn''t turn his neck to see. He closed his eyes and bit deep into the leather bundle in his mouth, tensed against the anticipated pain.

    Instead of the bite of a knife, he felt someone take his hand. Aytin''s eyes flickered open, only to be met with Rina''s intent gaze. Gently, she pried his fingers just far enough apart to slip her own inside of his.

    "I am here," she repeated, as the healer began his work.

 Chapter 30: Second Chance

    "Worth it?"

    The shouted question didn''t travel far in the rushing wind, but Aytin managed to catch it. "Yes, worth it!"

    Rina angled towards him, her larger wings needing only three beats for every four of his, and that was with the bulging backpack only she carried.

    Nonetheless, Aytin was grinning as his wings bit into the cool, clear air.

    It had only been a day and a half since Agon had worked his magic - and he still shuddered in phantom pain at the memory - but the healer had already pronounced him fit to fly. He might have preferred a few more days to exercise his atrophied muscles, but the stiffness and occasional twinge were a small price to pay.

    He and Rina were accompanying Agon and his escorts back to the tribe. Cue had also joined them, while Ness and Attalee remained behind with Faelon. Verk and Okoni - the two huntresses who had arrived with the shaman - also remained behind to help keep an eye on the camp while the rest of them were away.

    The thought of Faelon was a dark spot on what was otherwise a day of celebration. He had been... understanding. Aytin was fairly sure the dragon didn''t hold his healing against him. But there was a definite bitterness there. A reminder of what he knew he could never have again.

    As their party flew away, Aytin could feel eyes on his back even after the camp had long disappeared into the distance. And the uncomfortable feeling of guilt for his own fortune was a pit in his stomach.

    ''Not that I''m entirely good as new.''

    Both of his wings were marred by long, vertical scars. The thin, white lines stood out against the blue underside of the rest of the membrane, especially backlit by the late afternoon sun.

    Even magical healing wasn''t perfect and, truth to tell, he probably should have waited a few more days for the tender flesh to finish knitting.

    There just wasn''t time.

    It would be just under two weeks before the earliest that the brigands could return. Whether they had the wildlings'' help or not, they needed time to plan and prepare. So Agon had spent the previous day exhausting his magic to speed the wings'' healing. It took another day and a half for the healer to regain his own strength and for Aytin''s wings to reach the point that they were fit to fly. But as soon as they were both recovered, the group had set out.

    "Do you need rest?" Rina asked, eyeing him with concern.

    Aytin was definitely feeling a little winded, but he shook his head. "I am fine. Maybe soon." They hadn''t been flying for long, just over half an hour. The sun had barely moved, still about halfway to the western horizon. He was already slowing them down enough without constant breaks. Still, it was worth asking, "How far to the tribe?"

    "We will soon be half there."

    He grimaced. They had nearly covered the distance from the cache to the abandoned keep. He thought he had even caught a glimpse of it, out in the distance to the southwest. If they weren''t even halfway...

    To take his mind off of the strain, Aytin focused on the island below him. It was nice to be able to see things from above once again. That was a luxury he would never again take for granted.

    The ground appeared at first glance to be nothing but trees, some green and others fading into a multicolored patchwork as fall turned their leaves shades of red and gold and brown. But there were breaks in the tree cover here and there. Gaps where streams wound their way between larger bodies of water. Hillsides that were too steep for the hardiest of trees to grow.  A large dark scar in the distance where lightning had set the dry woods ablaze. And here and there meadows dotted the landscape, giving grass and shrubs a chance to grow.

    He spotted movement in one of those meadows and pointed. "Look, deer!" It was a sight he had hoped for so fervently during those early days of freedom that the exclamation was almost automatic.

    Cue followed his pointing finger and frowned. "You eat deer. Those are deer."

    Aytin blinked. The words sounded similar, but...

    "Get venison from deer?" At the shaman''s nod, Aytin twisted to face Rina. The huntress wore a blank expression. Too blank. "You tell me venison means deer."

    "No," she replied, still with a straight face. "I never do that."

    Thinking back, it might not technically have been a lie, but... "I say venison for days. You do not stop me."

    "Noooo."

    Aytin flicked one ear in annoyance. "Why?"

    "It too good to stop you," she answered, this time with a wide grin.

    Stifled laughter sounded over the windstream as the escort fought to stay professional in front of their god''s companion.

    "Other words?" Aytin asked with a sigh.

    "Maybe..." Amusement dripped from Rina''s single word reply.

    "That is not good." In contrast, Aytin sounded completely serious. "I talk to tribe leaders. I need to talk good."

    "You talk good," she argued. "I help you. The matriarchs understand."

    "And other wrong words?"

    "No other wrong words," the huntress admitted. "Only venison. It is joke. Funny thing."

    "I understand." And then, grudgingly, "Good joke." He cracked a small smile, which Rina returned enthusiastically.

    They ended up taking a single break, a short rest near the entrance to a small lake. Aytin tried to avoid it, but he was falling behind the rest of the group, even with their relaxed pace. Not even Agon or Cue were having trouble, and it was obvious that neither were as at home in the air as the huntresses.

    It wasn''t long, just enough to give Aytin''s disused wings a chance to recover, but not long enough for them to stiffen. On their healer''s advice, he kept the limbs extended and constantly flexing. They were sore, but thankfully not painful.

    He still very nearly fell back into the soft mud on takeoff, but a lucky gust of wind caught his wings at the last moment. It was just enough that with a final push he managed to get airborne.

    The landscape became more broken as they flew. Not mountainous, but jagged cracks dotted the land while bits of forest seemed to jut up above the rest. It was towards one of those they flew, practically a small island within the island around it. The sides were sheer cliffs that would make approach from the ground nearly impossible. This bit of land was just as defensible from ground attack as any keep.

    Smoke drifted from among the trees. Clearings and paths between them emerged as they spiraled down for a landing. But it wasn''t until the last moments that a handful of structures began to stand out. The domed, wooden huts blended in with their surroundings, it a way that might very well have been deliberate.

    Aytin was worried about the kind of welcome he would receive. There were a number of dragonettes in evidence as they landed. More appeared as word of their group''s arrival spread throughout the tribe. All told, about a score of wildlings gathered as the six of them stretched and loosened straps on packs.

    Whispered mutterings began, but no one seemed to dare approach within a few wingspans of the newcomer.

    "They know about me?" Aytin asked in a hushed voice. "And Faelon?"

    "Yes, Ness is not quiet. You are not a secret, a thing you do not tell others."

    The searching looks weren''t hostile, but they were far from what he had been expecting.

    ''I guess that an enormous red dragon makes a bigger impression than a single recently un-crippled dragonette.''

    Thankfully, Cue immediately stepped forward and began to speak to the crowd, gesticulating wildly. That served to distract them from Aytin, but it was quickly apparent to the young dragonette that the wildlings had been deliberately slowing and simplifying their speech.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Aytin could catch about one word in three. He heard "Dragon" and "Faelon" a lot, thankfully in a positive sense. And his own name came up a couple of times, with meaningful gestures his way.

    A flicker of motion caught his eye. A trio of hatchlings, somewhere between six and eight years old, darted out from around the crowd. Their leader was tall for her age, not all that much shorter than Aytin himself. The web of braided leather connecting her sharply swept horns came up to his chest.

    Her already mud covered feet kicked up a spray of dirt as she skidded to a halt in front of him and immediately started talking. Between the rapid cadence and the odd pronunciations of any kid, it was hard to follow the babble. But Aytin managed to piece together that she was asking if he was the one Cue was talking about.

    "Yes, I am the Dragon Faelon''s companion."

    The hatchling gave him an appraising look. Then, as if speaking to an idiot, she informed him, "You don''t look like a companion. You''re small."

    Conversations stopped mid-word. Every eye was suddenly on Aytin and the oblivious youngling who continued to look challengingly up at the newcomer. One wildling who had been edging up to the trio of children went rigid, ears pricked and eyes wide in something near terror.

    "Well," Aytin replied, struggling to keep a serious expression on his face, "Faelon try to teach me to be big, but I am not good at it. He is, though. Faelon is big enough for the two of us."

    The little girl nodded gravely. "Companion Cue isn''t big, either. Makes sense. Are all companions short?"

    "None of the companions I have met are tall."

    ''It''s not even a lie,'' he thought to himself, with a mental chuckle.

    Most of the onlookers looked to be holding back their own smiles. All except for a frowning Cue and the mortified looking wildling who had to be the girl''s father or guardian.

    Aytin saw that Rina had set her bag down nearby, so he hunted through it for a particular pouch. Pouring some of the contents out, he offered it to the hatchling and her companions.

    She took a nut and cautiously sniffed, then took a careful nibble. Her eyes widened as she tasted the smokey, salty flavor and immediately grabbed for more. The other two members of her little band weren''t far behind, and in an instant, Aytin''s outstretched hand was empty.

    With her mouth still half full, the girl waved. "I''m Saza. That''s Taj and that''s Koonie." She pointed to each of the boys in turn. They both seemed content to eat their own snacks in their leader''s shadow.

    "Hello Saza, I''m Aytin."

    "I know."

    Aytin had to turn his laugh into a cough as Saza looked at him with an expression full of pity for an adult''s stupidity.

    He was about to say something when the wildling caretaker finally worked up the nerve to dart forward. "I am so sorry, companion!" he gushed. To the children, he ordered, "You must be more respectful to the companion!"

    "Why?" Aytin had to stifle another chuckle at the little girl''s obstinance.

    "Because I say so. That is why. Move!"

    The two boys looked cowed, but Saza simply shrugged, and waved goodbye to Aytin. "Come bring me more nuts." At a glare from her minder, she grudgingly added, "Please."

    "She is... a very strong girl," Aytin said to Rina as the children were ushered away. The giggle he got in response wasn''t quite what he was expecting. "What?"

    "That is Attalee''s daughter," she informed him, a wicked expression on her face. "And she likes you."

    "Oh." Aytin raised his eye-ridges and cocked his ears in surprise. "Are you sure?"

    "Yes. Very sure."

    "Huh."

    "Come," Rina motioned down a path in the trees. "Get on new clothes. They are cooking a big dinner. You talk to matriarchs after."

    Aytin let himself be led into the trees. The trunks were widely spaced, without the brush and brambles he had become all too familiar with during his trek with Faelon.

    Here and there, structures emerged out of the woods. They blended into trees around them, having been covered with woven strips of what looked like bark.

    A few of the smaller ones were covered with hides instead. Almost tents, but with a slightly more permanent feel.

    They passed by one exceptionally large dwelling. It was probably a hundred paces in length and twenty wide.

    "It is for adults on their own," Rina explained when he asked about it.

    Communal housing for single dragonettes, was the impression he got. "Oh. Do you sleep there?"

    When Rina shook her head, Aytin felt a pang of disappointment. But it quickly faded as she went on, "I am a huntress. We have our own home. We are going there."

    The home in question was one of the smaller hide covered affairs. It was empty of occupants, but four beds were inside. Or what passed for beds. Really, they were less beds and more nests of furs and hide blankets. But their function was obvious.

    "I share with Ness, Verk, and Okoni. This one is mine." The huntress indicated one of the sleeping spaces. It had notably more furs than the rest, and a number of belongings lay scattered nearby.

    Rina actually looked a little embarrassed at the clutter, quickly moving to shift it into something resembling order.

    "It is okay. My room at home is not better," Aytin commented with a gesture towards the mess.

    He did frown slightly at the structure itself. The hide walls were attached to thin wooden struts that formed a sort of elongated dome. It was more than tall enough for someone of Aytin''s stature, but the horns of his much taller companion brushed against the ceiling everywhere except the very center.

    The floor was hard packed dirt, and while it was dry now, the walls couldn''t be entirely waterproof. Enough moisture would no doubt seep through during a heavy rainstorm to turn it into a muddy mess, and probably soak into the sleeping nests as well.

    It all had a slightly temporary feel to it. Like it was more than a camp, but not really a settlement.

    "How long your tribe live here?"

    "Since spring," Rina answered. "We will move to winter home soon."

    "Why move?"

    She seemed to consider that for a few moments, either trying to come up with an answer or else put it into words he could understand. Finally, she said, "There is good hunting near here. Lots of deer, birds, tirox. Good plants, too. And animals cannot get here."

    Aytin nodded. The steep slopes and general broken nature of these badlands would make it hard for anything without wings to approach.

    "But in the winter, it is cold," she continued. "Very windy. Lots of rain. Some snow. Like cold, cold rain."

    "Ah." Even with the trees, the hilltop was rather exposed to the elements. And if they moved into the crevices to escape the weather, a single good storm would wash them away. "Where you go in winter?"

    "There are big hills to the north." She gestured in that direction. "Big enough to stop the wind. We build homes into side of hills. But there are not as many plants or trees, and it is easy for animals to walk in."

    It sounded like they wintered in nearby caves and maybe even hibernated there if they had access to the right herbs.

    ''Faelon won''t like that.'' The dragon''s hate for tight spaces, and especially mines, probably extended to caves as well. Then again, if those caves were far enough away, it might make sense for him to hole up nearby. This wildling village was over a week away from the cache on foot. If the weather turned too quickly, he could get stuck out in the middle of nowhere.

    But that was a worry for another time. The slivers of sunlight visible through the door flaps were getting longer and the faint smell of something delicious cooking was beginning to torment Aytin. His stomach was starting to tie itself into knots of hunger, reminding him of how much he had put himself through that day.

    He wasn''t really sure what sort of thing was appropriate to wear to a wildling feast. Rina seemed to have begun hunting through her small pile of belongings for something. She found her prize in the form of a deep blue leather tunic. Several brightly polished rocks dangled off of tassels and clicked merrily as she began shrugging out of her leather armor.

    Aytin quickly turned away, eyes wide and ears pinned back in embarrassment. But the wildlings had much less in the way of body modesty than he was used to. It wasn''t nonexistent, but this wasn''t the first time he had seen one of the huntresses casually stripping off articles of clothing without any regard for who could see.

    It was, however, the first time he had been this close to one.

    The desire to grab his things and scurry out of the hut was strong. And the temptation to turn and look wasn''t exactly nonexistent, either.

    So Aytin did neither, and studiously ignored the other dragonette as he began to undress himself.

    He decided that it was a good thing that he had found his travel trunk and the formal wear inside. They might be outdated by capital standards, but he thought he looked good in the snow white vest, even if recent events meant the tailoring was no longer quite as fine as it once had been. Weeks in the sky as part of Faelon''s crew, followed by his ordeal on the island left some parts a little baggy while a few were almost uncomfortably tight.

    It still looked good enough. And after a quick buff, the brass buttons practically sparkled in the late afternoon sun.

    The matching blue pants that went with it wasn''t anything special, but it was made of heavy wool instead of the usual linen. For that, Aytin was grateful. As night fell, it would be getting uncomfortably cool, and even the leggings he slipped on might not be quite enough to keep off the chill.

    When he turned, he found Rina watching him, a playful leer plastered on her face.

    Aytin had to force himself not to accept the bait. Instead, he returned her look with one of his own.

    The blue tunic fit the huntress well, and it would no doubt be warmer than his own sleeveless vest. So would her much longer skirt of a slightly lighter blue-dyed hide that nearly reached her ankles. And the polished stones hanging from all over added a certain style to what would otherwise have been a fairly plain set of clothes.

    Rina finally broke the silence between them "You look very good," she said. "Very different, but very good."

    "Thank you." Aytin couldn''t quite control the twitch in his ears, but he managed to keep any hint of it out of his answer. "You look very good, too."

    "Do you like it?" She gave herself a slight shake, setting the stones clicking and clattering. "I find the rocks myself. Then I cut holes in them and make the rest from deer I hunt."

    "You do a very good job," Aytin said, and he meant it. Even if it wasn''t fancy, the entire outfit was competently made and fit the huntress well. He also had to admit that a part of him appreciated more than just the outfit.

    Rina smiled at the compliment, but a distant voice drew her attention. "We need to go. They will start soon."

    At his nod, the huntress opened the flap and led the way towards the center of the wildling village.

 Chapter 31: Youre the One

    They made their way to a clearing in the center of the village. Polished log benches and hide blankets surrounded a sizable pile of brush. Smaller cookfires were scattered around the perimeter, occasionally sizzling as cuts of meat dripped their juices onto the coals.

    A number of dragonettes were already surrounding the bonfire-to-be. Quite a crowd, in fact. More than had greeted their initial landing, and they were trickling in by the moment.

    Conversations muted as Aytin approached, and all eyes turned to him. They seemed curious for the most part, without the same sense of trepidation from when he arrived. When the young dragonette waved, many returned the gesture and even smiled.

    It gave him hope for what was to come.

    Rina maneuvered them to a pile of conspicuously empty blankets. She settled him in the very center before taking a place just behind him.

    Wildlings continued to trickle into the clearing. Aytin recognized Saza. She was leading a gaggle of kids with a couple of exasperated looking minders in tow towards a spot on the far side of the bonfire. He caught her eye and gave her a smile, which the little terror returned with all the dignity of a high noble.

    A group of what were obviously huntresses chatted amongst themselves not far from where the two of them sat. Small knots of friends and families were scattered around them, nearly all wearing blue-dyed hides with bits of fur peaking out around collars.

    Many - especially the younger wildlings - had woven nests of criss-crossing leather strips between their horns, just like Saza. They hung ornaments from them. Bits of bone, colored stones, and a few glints of metal.

    But the further around the fire, the more plainly dressed the wildlings became. Generally younger, too, until it reached the gaggle of hatchlings at the other side. There seemed to be a definite seating order.

    Something about the whole setup twigged the back of Aytin''s mind. He frowned, slightly, and then did a quick count.

    "Where is the tribe?" he asked Rina. "You say there are many more than this in the tribe?" He motioned to the circle of seats. They might be able to fit eighty or ninety dragonettes if they were willing to tuck their wings in and squeeze, but that was less than half the number there were supposed to be.

    The wildling huntress had been quiet up until then. And she kept her voice down as she replied, "We have three camps. This one is the biggest. The others are nearby, and the rest of the tribe lives in them."

    "Why?" The top of this particular rise would be cramped, true, but there hadn''t been any sign of habitation on others as he flew in. He would have expected them to live closer together.

    Rina paused, obviously trying to think of a good response. "The tribe is like a big family, yes?"

    "I understand."

    "And a family... It..."

    "A family sometimes needs space."

    Rina jerked at the new voice from right behind her. The speaker was an older woman. Not ancient by any means. Likely in her seventies or eighties, judging by the silver frosting her skin and the stiffness with which she moved.

    "Sit down, Rina," she ordered, and the much younger huntress let herself relax from the half-crouch she had risen to. With a relieved sigh, the older woman lowered herself to sit in the pile of blankets before fixing Aytin with a green-eyed gaze untouched by age. "You are the Dragon Faelon''s Companion?"

    She spoke slowly and clearly, carefully enunciating each word. He responded with a respectful nod. "Yes, I am Aytin, Companion to Faelon. You are a Matriarch?"

    "I am Matriarch Vozdi." She dipped her head, the gesture precisely as deep as Aytin''s own. "I welcome you to our tribe."

    "I also welcome you to our tribe."

    This new dragonette lithely folded in on herself as she sat to Aytin''s left, opposite to Vozdi. She couldn''t have been much older than Attalee or his own mother, only just past her prime. And unlike her, the new wildling wore a set of intricately decorated leather horn strips. Yet she introduced herself as Matriarch Onlo.

    "You are surprised? You think I should be different? Older?" There was humor behind those words. That was obvious, even through the language barrier.

    "I not have a chance to learn about you," Aytin said, hedging. "I busy learning language and healing."

    "So you are surprised?" A self-satisfied smirk grew on her face.

    "Stop that, Onlo," the other Matriarch snapped. To Aytin, she explained, "Age does not make a dragonette a Matriarch. There are other reasons. Traditions. Some reasons are hard to understand." That last was delivered with a pointed look towards Onlo, who only cackled.

    "Ah, but you love me, Vozi!" She got a deep sigh in response.

    By this time, the clearing was full of wildlings. No stragglers had made their way up for several minutes, and looking behind himself, Aytin didn''t see anyone else sneaking up from behind.

    "Matriarchs, aren''t there three of you?" he asked, forcing any hint of trepidation out of his voice.

    Onlo''s laughter trailed off and her counterpart looked somber. "Healer Agon is with Matriarch Nej," the older of the pair answered. "She is not well."

    Aytin''s heart skipped a beat. "Oh. Is it bad?" Agon had spent the last two days working on fixing his wings. ''If something happens to her and they blame me...''

    But Vozdi put his fears to rest. "He says she will live. Nej is older than I am, but she is strong. You will meet her tomorrow."

    "I will like to meet her," Aytin replied, stumbling slightly but getting the point across. It seemed to satisfy the two Matriarchs at least.

    The shadows had lengthened since they had sat down. Large swaths of the clearing were striped with alternating columns of light and dark.

    Cue walked down one of these paths of sunlight, and a quiet settled throughout the gathered wildlings. He was turned out in his patchwork ceremonial garb. In one hand, he waved a gnarled staff daubed with blue painted runes. As he approached, he turned and began to scatter the contents of a pouch as he circled around the firepit.

    Aytin couldn''t make out what the shaman was saying. It was some sort of incomprehensible mumbling chant. While the wildling tongue had a familiar feel to it, these words were different. Alien.

    He circled the pit four times and stopped. A pair of helpers brought a small, clay pot and set it in front of him. The shaman strode over and, after drawing a small knife, made a cut along his wrist. He dribbled blood into the pot for nearly a minute before the flow slowed. At that point, another wildling bound the wound in a strip of hide.

    Dipping his staff into the pot, Cue coated the tip in the deep-blue mixture within. Dragging the staff, he inscribed a wavy line around the piled wood. On the next pass, he added little markings and symbols. Then more on the next. They were almost invisible in the shadows cast by the surrounding trees.

    Finally, appearing satisfied, the shaman halted just in front of Aytin and the Matriarchs. He stood there, hands raised, as he faced the setting sun, a sliver of which was visible all the way through the woods.

    Just as that tiny slice of light touched the horizon, Cue bent double, slamming his outstretched hands to the ground. A green spark jumped from his fingertips to race around the inscribed circle before jumping into the wood contained within. It erupted into brilliant flames and the onlookers burst into a mass of cheers, chest thumping, and foot stomping.

    It was a signal that the feast had begun.

    Several wildlings scurried to pass out wide strips of thin bark. They were followed by a procession of servers bearing wooden platters of meat accompanied by clay pots that steamed in the cooling air.

    The servers started with Aytin and the Matriarchs before working their way around either side of the circle. Each one added some of their particular dish to his bark plate until it was heaped with food.

    A surreptitious look confirmed that his neighbors were already eating, so he dug in.

    It wasn''t the best meal he had ever had, but since leaving home Aytin had been forced to change his definition of what constituted a good meal. This was hot, well cooked, and even if it could have used some salt, there were enough other seasonings to make it tasty.

    As the guest of honor, he also got the best cuts. There were pieces of both venison backstrap and wild boar tenderloin on his plate, along with a mash made of a wild tuber and some sort of boiled green leafy dish. He even got a small serving of stewed fruit.

    The burst of conversation quickly died away into a dull background muttering. There was apparently an unstated rule that eating was more important than talking. It was a rule that Aytin wholeheartedly approved of.

    Cue accepted a large plate and settled nearby. His normal nervous energy was conspicuously absent, likely drained by the display of magic. Without it, he seemed somehow less. But the shaman also seemed satisfied as he shoveled down food with a will.

    No one could have asked for better weather for an outdoor feast. There wasn''t a cloud in the darkening sky, nor much more than a breath of wind to rustle the dying leaves. And while the cool night air was chasing the setting sun, the bonfire kept everyone more than warm enough.

    A few wildlings stood to help themselves to seconds from the remains of the feast. Aytin didn''t. He had to struggle to finish everything that he had been given, and his vest was starting to feel a lot less loose by the end of the meal.

    Voices had picked up as the last sliver of sun slipped below the horizon. The Matriarchs seemed content to remain silent, however, and Cue was busy finishing his second plate.

    Rina was quietly pushing the last scrap of mashed tuber around her plate with one talon. She had remained unobtrusive throughout. So much so that Aytin nearly forgot she was there. He looked back to check on her, only to find her gazing towards the nearby group of huntresses. When she noticed the attention, she snapped her head around and gave him a forced smile.

    If he could have said something, Aytin would have. But with the Matriarchs right there and Rina already so nervous, he didn''t want to push it.

    Just then, Cue set his plate down and gave a small nod to Matriarch Vozdi, who exchanged a look of her own with Onlo. As one, the three rose. Aytin was about to follow, but Rina''s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

    The crowd quieted until there were only faint whispers audible over the crackling of the fire.

    Either the Matriarch was deliberately keeping her speech simple or he was improving at the language faster than he thought, because Aytin was able to catch most of what Vozdi had to say. A few bits were incomprehensible, but whispered questions to Rina helped clear them up.

    There was a general welcome to the gathered wildlings followed by a more specific one to Aytin as Faelon''s Companion. He expected the Matriarch to take that opportunity to invite him to speak or at least describe why he was here. Cue had to have told them that much, at least, and he figured he would be asked to put forth Faelon''s plea at some point.

    Instead, she spoke about how Faelon''s arrival was some sort of good omen. How the dragon''s presence had blessed the forest with the bounty gathered for this feast. There was more talk about a hard winter coming, but how she was confident that they would weather the coming season like they always had before.

    Her words were interrupted by a commotion off to one side. Not far down the circle, a male wildling had stood. He wasn''t alone, either. A small group rose with him as he started shouting. His loud words easily carried over the elder Matriarch''s, but they came too fast for Aytin to follow.

    "Khrik is saying that Dragon Faelon needs our help." Rina looked somewhat scandalized as she spoke. "He asks why the Matriarchs do not say this. He asks the rest of the tribe to help Dragon Faelon."

    Uneasy whispers abounded in the pause that followed.

    Matriarch Onlo stepped forward. Her younger voice succeeded in overpowering the agitator where Vozdi''s had failed. The words were cool, and snapped out in a rapid fire cadence.

    "She says that they speak to you after the feast," Rina told him as the crowd descended into dozens of whispered conversations. "That they need time and quiet to understand what Faelon needs."

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Khrik waited just long enough for the muttering to reach a fever pitch before making his reply. "The Dragon Faelon is here for the entire tribe! Why not discuss his needs out in the open instead of in some dark corner?"

    This time, Aytin didn''t need help to piece together the wildling''s words. The entire exchange surprised him, though. It was clearly unusually. Matriarchs Onlo and Vozdi seemed genuinely angry at the interruption. But they didn''t seem surprised by the allegations of Faelon needing help.

    A suspicion grew into a certainty. ''They knew. They knew and they weren''t going to say anything.''

    So far, Cue had remained quiet. But Aytin thought he caught a flash of something in the young shaman''s expression. Far from the annoyance of his elders, there was... satisfaction?

    Suddenly, a number of things made a lot more sense.

    Aytin stood, and the motion interrupted whatever the Matriarchs'' next response was going to be.

    "I am Aytin, Companion to the Dragon Faelon," he said, voice carrying throughout the now hushed gathering. "Thank you Matriarch Vozdi and Matriarch Onlo for your welcome." He bowed slightly to both, who returned the gesture with guarded expressions.

    "It is truth that I come here to ask for help for Dragon Faelon." Khrik and his crowd grew excited at the confirmation, however Aytin quickly added, "But this is a thing to talk about with the Matriarchs and your Companion. I must know what the tribe has. Faelon does not want to ask for what you do not have, or give you gifts you do have." The mention of gifts caused a small stir among the gathered wildlings. "Your leaders know of these things. I talk to them, and after I talk to you."

    He bowed again, this time to the tribe as a whole, before taking a step back. His words seemed to take both groups by surprise, but it was Matriarch Vozdi who recovered first.

    "As the Companion says, it is easier to speak of these things in small numbers. We will hear what Dragon Faelon needs and provide all we can. We would not offer less."

    "I know this," Aytin replied, formally. "We talk about what Dragon Faelon needs now?"

    Vozdi nodded, and made a motion towards a nearby hut. The tribe broke down into conversation as the two Matriarchs strode away, followed by Cue.

    The Shaman didn''t show a hint of smugness, but he also appeared to be keeping his body language under tight control. His tail was held like a steel rod as he walked and his ears remained motionless as he stared straight ahead.

    Aytin was nearly halfway to the hut when he realized that Rina was no longer with him. She was standing where he left her, seeming to be torn between following and remaining behind. When the huntress didn''t follow at his motion, Aytin walked back over and took her hand.

    The much larger huntress let herself be pulled along without protest. In fact, she seemed a little relieved, possibly that the decision had been taken out of her hands.

    It was dark in the hut. A window covered in a thin, translucent hide let in a little firelight, but the only other source of light came from the dirty flame in a small, clay lamp.

    Aytin almost stumbled as he stepped over the threshold, only to be caught by Rina. The huntress didn''t seem to have any problems with the dim light, and guided him to a pile of furs opposite the wildling leaders.

    Rather than speak to him, Matriarch Onlo''s first words were directed towards Cue. "What do you think you were doing out there?"

    Her jovial tone from the start of the feast was gone, replaced by a hissed snarl. But the words just rolled off of Cue like rain off of a dragon''s wings.

    "Me? I did nothing! Khrik was the one to speak, not me," he protested.

    "Khrik spoke, but you put the words in his mouth! Who else could have told him of Faelon''s needs?"

    "But Khrik is right," Cue countered, ignoring the question. "We must help Faelon!"

    "You will be quiet, or I''ll-"

    Aytin didn''t catch exactly what it was she would do. Something about using the shaman''s wing? Whatever for, he couldn''t tell, but there was a small gasp from Rina. And while Cue still looked like he wanted to say more, he kept his mouth shut.

    "Now, Companion Aytin," Onlo said, some of the edge leaving her voice. "We have heard some from both Huntress Ness and Cue about why you are here. Please, tell us the full story."

    And so he did. Most of it, anyway.

    It was by no means easy or quick. No matter what Rina said, Aytin''s wildling was very rough. It didn''t help that he still had difficulties speaking in the past tense, but the Matriarchs were understanding and Rina proved her worth as a translator. They had spent so much time together that she knew exactly the extent of his vocabulary and how best to explain new words and concepts.

    He told them that Faelon had been attacked and injured through treachery. How he, himself, had been captured and later rescued by the dragon. And how the brigands would soon return to try to finish them both.

    He also told them about the pile of supplies the dragon had brought with him, and how he would be willing to share it in return for aid.

    To that effect, Aytin produced a trio of small knives and a bolt of fabric. Both gifts were received with no small excitement. The wildlings had already shown how much they valued steel, but they made almost as much of a production over the pure white wool.

    Most of the wildlings dressed in either natural colors or else dyed their clothing blue with their blood. But they appeared to lack any method for bleaching fabric, or even much in the way of clothing that wasn''t leather or fur. And there was quite a bit of both wool and linen in the cargo.

    "You offer more like this for our help?" Matriarch Vozdi asked.

    "Yes, much more. Tools and weapons and clothing and salt. Other things too. More than fifty dragonettes can carry."

    When the Matriarchs were silent, Rina spoke up. "It is an amazing treasure. I have seen it. My new bow..." She trailed off, suddenly self-conscious under the collective gaze of her tribe''s leadership.

    "I am sure it is as amazing as these gifts are," the elder Matriarch said, not unkindly. "But will it let you hunt during winter cold and storms? Is it good enough for you to do the job of two huntresses?"

    Silently, the huntress shook her head.

    "I thought not." To Aytin, she said, "Winter comes soon. Our tribe is not so big that we can afford to send huntresses and workers to fight rather than harvest. Even losing the handful we have sent to help Dragon Faelon has been felt. And you would not offer so much if there weren''t great risk."

    Reluctantly, the young dragonette nodded. "The ones who fly with the traitor dragon are skilled. If you fight them with us, some will not come back."

    It wasn''t worth lying, or even concealing the danger. The wildlings were uncivilized, not stupid. He had never doubted that fact, and spending nearly a week with Rina and witnessing the political machinations of the leaders only confirmed his original intuition.

    "In your treasures, do you have food?" Onlo asked.

    "Some," Aytin ventured. "And salt to keep other food longer."

    "How much? Enough to feed the tribe for weeks? Months?"

    "Days," he admitted. "The traitors have more. But... not enough for months."

    The two Matriarchs shared a look, and Aytin felt his heart sink. "I am afraid," Onlo said, her voice tinged with what sounded like genuine regret, "that we cannot spare enough dragonettes to help."

    "The traitors want these treasures. And Faelon will burn them if he has to."

    He didn''t think that the wildlings had planned on looting the cache after he and Faelon were dead, but he felt like he had to make one last attempt to convince them to help. Onlo''s ears did twitch slightly at his words, but the elder of the two Matriarchs remained unperturbed.

    "I understand. It is a great loss, but we cannot risk the tribe starving next to piles of steel that we cannot eat."

    "It doesn''t matter!" Cue broke in. He had been silent up until then, but the final verdict had been more than he was willing to stomach.

    "The Dragon Faelon needs our help! We must give it! No matter the sacrifice!"

    Matriarch Vozdi was quick to jump on the young shaman. "We will not allow you to doom our tribe!"

    "It doesn''t matter what you want." Now Cue didn''t bother to hide his smug expression. "Khrik isn''t the only one in the tribe who understands respect for Dragon Faelon. How are you going to stop us all from going to help him? Will you drag us back and break our wings? What then?"

    Vozdi scoffed. "How many have you managed to convince? A handful? Two?"

    "More understand their duty than you think. And I know that most of the tribe will agree once they hear of the Dragon''s need."

    Before the Matriarch could retort, Onlo touched her arm and shook her head. "You are making a mistake, Companion Cue," she said, ominously. But her tone held a note of uncertainty.

    Aytin had managed to follow most of the exchange. Into the dark silence that followed the Matriarch''s pronouncement, he said, "I am sorry. Dragon Faelon and I do not want to break your tribe."

    "And I wish to never fly into the wind," Vozdi muttered, but she gave the visitor a grudging nod.

    "I have a strange question," he began, choosing his words carefully. During the argument, he had been desperately searching for a solution that might satisfy the wildlings. And he thought he might have one.

    The Matriarch, no doubt just as desperate for some way to keep her tribe from fragmenting, gave a slight frown but only said, "Ask."

    "You do not sleep in the winter. I mean you do not sleep for weeks."

    "We do sleep," Vozdi said, a lack of understanding plain on her face.

    "But not at night and day. Not the whole time," Aytin pressed. But the wildlings'' confusion gave him hope.

    "No, we sleep much of the time. But we must hunt and cook and make preparations for spring. Why do you ask this?"

    "Because dragons go to sleep in the winter and do not wake until spring."

    The pronouncement was greeted with no small amount of surprise by the wildlings. Cue was nodding like Aytin had just bestowed some piece of divine wisdom. Both Matriarchs seemed interested, but neither quite grasped the point.

    "There are frogs like that," Rina said, momentarily forgetting her surroundings. "You can find them in the mud during the winter if you dig."

    "Are you saying that Dragon Faelon is like a frog?" Cue''s expression made it clear what the answer to that particular question needed to be.

    "I''m sure she does not," Aytin interrupted. "But Faelon can share the magic!"

    ''Or at least, he can share the Heaven Oak bark, which is the same thing.'' It was more complicated than that, and Agon would need to help some of them into and out of the coma, but close enough.

    "And sleeping dragonettes do not need to eat," Matriarch Vozdi said, slowly. She had obviously figured out the importance of Aytin''s words and her partner wasn''t far behind.

    "Would the entire tribe sleep?" the other Matriarch asked.

    That question took a little thought. Being from a relatively rich keep in the south where winters were mild at worst, Aytin had never been forced to hibernate. But he did know more or less how it worked.

    "No," he eventually replied. "Many will sleep. Maybe most." There wasn''t enough Heaven Oak bark in the cache to put that many into hibernation for months, but there was the stand of heaven oaks near the ruined keep. They could provide all the bark that the tribe would ever need.

    "Keep the huntresses and strong dragonettes awake," he eventually answered. "You have enough food for them and helping Faelon!"

    "Do you see? Did I not tell you?!" Cue was almost beside himself with excitement. "The Dragon Faelon will provide for us!"

    "Only if our tribe bleeds for him." The comment earned Vozdi a glare from the shaman, but she returned it with her own hard stare.

    But Aytin sensed that the Matriarchs were wavering, and so he pressed, "Your tribe will be stronger. Faelon will give much now, if you agree. And when we fight, we will not waste lives. Rina knows we would not."

    He didn''t want to put the huntress in front of her superiors like that, but she didn''t shirk from the attention.

    "Companion Aytin and Dragon Faelon have honor. They have never lied. They have never asked for what they do not need, and they have given freely from what they have. I think we should help them."

    Vozdi and Onlo shared another of their looks. Their expressions were unreadable, but the elder flicked her ears and the other nodded slightly. Then they turned back to face the young dragonette who had come to meet them.

    "Our tribe will aid the Dragon Faelon," Matriarch Vozdi said, formally.

    The relief Aytin felt was so strong that he had to burn his magic to keep from collapsing. "Th... Thank you!"

    "However," Onlo added. "We cannot spare the entire tribe. Even most of it. You know this, Cue." She directed the last at the shaman, who looked annoyed despite his victory. "Ten huntresses. And a little more than that from among the ranks of the rest of the tribe. But only those who wish to go."

    "We should-"

    "We cannot!" The younger Matriarch''s tone made it clear she would accept no argument, and Cue wisely chose not to press the point.

    "Again, thank you. And Dragon Faelon thanks you," Aytin quickly said. It wasn''t as many as he hoped for, but with luck it would be enough. And he had a feeling it was the best deal he would get. Although, he did need to convey the urgency of his request. "The traitors come in less than two weeks. When will the tribe be ready?"

    This time, it was Vozdi who replied. "We will announce it to the tribe in the morning. You will leave in the afternoon or the day after. Is this acceptable?" At his nod, she said, "Good. Now it is late and there is much to do in the morning. Rina will find you a place to sleep. Cue, you will remain here. We have things to discuss."

    The two of them rose and bowed to the elders, leaving behind a distinctly unhappy looking Cue to face the ire of the Matriarchs.

    Night had long since fallen, and the settlement was quiet. It was also cold, and Aytin wished fervently for the longer shirt and jacket along with his other things. But with what little moonlight there was blocked by the trees, he couldn''t exactly run.

    Thankfully, Rina seemed to have no trouble navigating in the darkness. It wasn''t long before they were outside of a small hut.

    But when he squinted, he realized that he recognized this particular hut. It was Rina''s, the one she shared with the other huntresses.

    Which actually made sense. His things were still in there. But instead of ducking in to grab the bag, Rina turned to face him.

    "It is cold tonight."

    "Yes. It is cold." Standing still, he was starting to feel the lethargy seep in.

    There was an odd tone in Rina''s voice as she said, "The shelters are not made for cold. They are summer homes."

    It took a few seconds for Aytin''s fatigue and cold clouded mind to start connecting the dots. "Uhhh..."

    "It would be much warmer if... if we both sleep here."

    He just caught Rina''s ears twitching in the darkness, like she was forcing them to stay upright.

    ''She... she can''t be thinking...''

    The huntress opened the hide flap, and then held it for him. He could just make out the wide smile on her face. And a faint purring filled the small room as he entered and she pinned the flap in place behind them.

    As it turned out, that was exactly what she was thinking.

 Interlude 5: Perspectives

    "It sure is too bad that we didn''t camp out last night!"

    The grumble that Rina got in response was just loud enough to be audible over the rush of the air.

    She ignored it and pressed on. "I mean, we missed the rain, cold food, a colder morning... Really, you were right Ness. We could have had such a great time!"

    That was too much for the young huntress to take silently. "All I said was that if we were there early, we might catch a herd of deer out in the meadow!"

    "Oh, right." Rina nodded in exaggerated agreement. "It''s only, what, a quarter of a morning''s flight out here? Easy enough with a pack full of venison."

    The smaller huntress''s scowl deepened, and she beat her wings harder, trying to gain speed. Rina laughed and matched her pace, her longer wingspan easily keeping pace.

    "Enough of that, you two," Attalee called from above. "There will be plenty to do today, and I''m not going to wear myself out trying to keep up with your games."

    Rina immediately slowed her pace, deftly dodging Ness''s tail as the tip flashed past her face. The young huntress followed up with a flicked tongue at her senior, who just ignored it, smiling widely in feigned ignorance.

    Attalee was suddenly beside them, giving them both a hard stare. "Sometimes I wonder why I bothered training the two of you."

    "We''re just getting you ready for Saza in a couple of years," Rina supplied, cheerfully.

    "Makers, don''t remind me." The pain in her voice wasn''t at all feigned. "At least you''ll have plenty of training when your turn comes around. When do you suppose that will be, anyway?" She added that last with a bit of a grin.

    Rina looked away and her ears dipped a little. "Err..."

    "You sure seemed to get along with that one guy at the solstice," Ness called out, getting back for the earlier teasing. "What was wrong with him? Tail too short? Horns too small? Wings not long enough? Or was it something else?"

    "Shut up, Ness!"

    "Make me!"

    "Girls!" Attalee shouted before things could get out of hand. It was all friendly, but sometimes the pair had a tendency to say something they didn''t mean if it went on long enough.

    Rina gave a long sigh, and then because she knew Ness wouldn''t let it go said, "Stell was fine. Fun and everything, but... he was fine."

    "Not much for conversation, from what I saw," Attalee commented.

    For a moment, Rina looked like she was going to come to the man''s defense, but eventually was forced to grunt in agreement. "Not someone I''d want to be cooped up all winter with, that''s for sure."

    "No chance of that?"

    "Nah, Agon gave me some herbs to take and we were pretty happy going our separate ways at the end of the conclave.

    "But speaking of winter, it is coming and I''ve got the feeling Saza is going to be particularly fun to deal with this year."

    Attalee winced, taking the change of subject in stride. "I don''t think you''re wrong about that." It was bad enough being stuck in the caves for most of an entire season, hungry and huddling around fires to fight off the chill. The added joy of a junior huntress-to-be pestering them the whole time might make a trip out into the snow look preferable in comparison.

    "Maybe you can convince Companion Cue that she''s interested in extra lessons?" Ness suggested.

    Rina snorted. "He''d never believe that."

    But the young huntress wasn''t deterred. "He might not care. I bet he''s bored during the winter, too. It''s not like shamans have some sort of ritual of fun they can cast."

    "I think that would just make both of them cranky," Attalee said. "Is that really worth it?"

    Both of her juniors shook their heads.

    "That''s also a problem for next season. One I''m sure Aunt Rina and Ness would be happy to help solve." She ignored their shouts of protest, raising her voice to drown them out. "Our problem now, though, is checking those apples. And keep an eye out for any prey on the way in."

    The last was added with a gesture towards Ness. The young huntress grinned and started untying the straps from her bow.

    After a moment, Rina did the same. It was a little late in the morning for deer to be out in the open, but they could get lucky. There was also a small pond not far from the orchard. ''A duck or two would be even better than a deer.'' The rich, dark meat was always a treat, and a flock might have started migrating early.

    The clearing was one of the largest in the tribe''s lands. Between the apple trees, the spring-fed pond, an elevated central mesa, and plenty of game, it would have made a fine site for a summer village.

    Except the ruins of the massive stone house and the land surrounding it were forbidden territory. Same for the nearby Makers'' Grove, with its impossibly tall trees scraping the heavens. The Matriarchs generally kept the tribe well away from both.

    They still told stories about a couple of younger members of the tribe who had snuck out there one summer night years and years ago. They''d found them days later under the rubble of a broken wall. No doubt a punishment from the gods for trespassing.

    Fortunately, the rest of the clearing and the normal forest around it were fair game. Unfortunately, a slow circle revealed it to be deserted.

    That wasn''t to say that there was nothing interesting.

    "What are those?" Ness pointed to several long, straight slashes across the yellowing grass.

    Attalee was uncharacteristically hesitant as she answered. "I... don''t know."

    "Then let''s find out!" Before her senior could protest, Rina was diving to get a closer look.

    The discolored strips turned out to be trenches. They were covered in places with vegetation and cut grass. Some sort of concealment, maybe? Days old, though, judging by the wilting leaves.

    She landed near one of the trenches and looked inside. The bottom was muddy and its edges were already beginning to erode. Nearby, a pile of dirt that could only be from the excavation slumped. Some had already made its way back into the trenches, and more would follow with the next storm.

    Wings rustled as her companions landed. She turned in time to see Attalee give her a look, but the older huntress said nothing and her attention quickly shifted to the reason for their diversion.

    Ness was already at the edge of one of the trenches. She kicked a clod of dirt into the shallow depression and frowned. "What''s the point of all this?"

    Attalee was silent as she walked around a trench, stopping occasionally to examine some detail or another. Rina followed along, although nothing really jumped out to her. It was just a big, long hole.

    "It may be a trap," she said as she finished her lap. "Why, exactly, I can''t imagine. It seems like a huge effort, with nothing to show for it."

    Just then, the breeze shifted. It brought with it the smell of decay.

    "Or maybe I was wrong and they got something to show for it after all."

    They followed the stench to a nearby stand of trees. There they found their second surprise.

    "A tirox." Rina could only shake her head in amazement at the remains of the massive beast. "They did not catch a tirox! Not with those pitiful little traps! There is no way!"

    That wasn''t all that they found. It was an entire camp, complete with the remains of several massive cookfires. One beaten down area had clearly held a shelter of some sort. The ground nearby had been torn up by quite a few feet, although the rain had muddled most of the tracks.

    But the scavenger-stripped corpse of the massive creature was the biggest mystery among many.

    "They didn''t catch it," Attalee agreed. She pointed to a section of torn up ground.

    The rain hadn''t managed to disguise the drag marks. Those led from the tirox''s remains, off at an angle from the trenches.

    When they reached the end of those drag marks, they had even more questions.

    "Maybe one of the other tribes split off a new group?" Ness wondered aloud. They were standing in a circle of torn ground and ripped up grass, trying to make sense of what they were seeing.

    The young huntress''s idea might have had merit at another time, but Attalee shook her head. "It''s too late in the season."

    "But that explains the tirox," she insisted. "They''ll need all the food they can get going into the winter."

    "It doesn''t explain how they killed it." Rina was examining the trampled battleground. There were great gouges in the soil, like the beast had been struggling against something. But the only sign of fighting was a single shattered arrow buried in the mud.

    ''And an arrow wouldn''t even scratch one of those beasts,'' she thought, brushing a finger unconsciously across the quiver of arrows at her hip. ''Maybe a newborn calf, but that was a full grown bull.''

    They were all quiet for a moment, considering the problem. Killing a tirox was a feat that normally took teams of huntresses harassing the beast, filling it with spears and keeping it from escaping into the forest before blood loss could take its toll. Yet, somehow, a hunting party had managed to do it in the middle of an open field, without their prey moving more than a handful of steps.

    Finally, Attalee shrugged. "A lucky hit, maybe. A spear at the base of the spine or slipped through the ribs and into the heart."

    Ness seemed to take the suggestion as a given, but Rina frowned slightly. That frown only deepened as a thought crossed her mind.

    "If it is a new group, stocking up for winter, what else have they taken?"

    As one, the three turned towards the grove of apple trees. A heartbeat later, they were in the air.

    It ended up being just as bad as Rina had feared.

    "Nej is going to be maaaaaad," Ness whispered, half to herself. The matriarch was well known for her sweet tooth.

    "Forget her, I''m mad." Rina looked between the single half-rotten apple in her hand and Attalee. "What are we going to eat during the winter?"

    "We won''t run out of food. We have plenty of meat. Dried roots. Nuts. And there''s other fruit." Attalee¡¯s delivery wasn''t particularly enthusiastic.

    "Sure. We might even have enough that everyone can have a bite of stewed berries at midwinter." Without warning, Rina turned and hurled the fruit at the nearest gnarled trunk. It splattered into pulp on impact, leaving a worm wriggling among the remains.

    "I say we find these fucking theives," she snarled, snatching her flint-tipped spear from against a tree.

    Her superior raised one eyeridge. "And do what?"

    "Take our apples back!" Ness shouted, brandishing her own spear. "And some of their tirox, too!"

    Attalee shook her head as the two younger huntresses shared toothy grins. "I''m not saying no, but... the world is a big place. Where do we start looking?" She gestured around at the empty clearing and the squat mesa in the center. Beyond it, empty forest went on and on. The job of months or even years to search.

    Rina let out a frustrated hiss. "So you think we should let them go? After they stole from our territory."

    "Nooo." The word came slowly, like explaining to a hatchling why she couldn''t play with a flint knife. "I want to get our apples back. And maybe give the thieves something for our trouble. I just think that we''re too late for that. There aren''t even any good tracks." She kicked at a clump of dirt for emphasis.

    "The Matriarchs can send a delegation to the other tribes," Attalee continued. "They''ll find out who is responsible."

    Once again, she didn''t sound convincing. And that was assuming they could even find the other tribes. They tended to be more nomadic, rarely spending summers in the same place two years in a row.

    "So we''ll know next spring, at the earliest. Or at the summer solstice. It doesn''t help us this winter." Rina was still fuming, but deep down she knew there wasn''t anything they could do. That only made it worse.

    "If they''re settling nearby, we''re bound to see them hunting. Or one of the other huntresses might run into them." A look of worry flashed across Ness''s face. "We need to tell the others about this!"

    Rina gave a grudging nod at that. It burned at her, returning empty handed. The whole thing felt like it was their fault, and she knew that there would be jokes at her expense when they returned. But no matter how hard she tried, the huntress couldn''t think of anything that she could do.

    With one last half angry, half wistful look at the apple trees, she got a running start and leapt into the air.

    It was a fairly long flight back to the site of the summer village. ''That''s probably why they thought they could get away with this. No one ever comes out here. Although we might need to start.''

    That might help in the future. It wouldn''t bring back this year''s harvest. Wouldn''t put food in their mouths during the cold winter months. ''We''ll need more meat. And the game is already getting scarce around the village.''

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Instinctively, Rina scanned the ground below. Then her gaze shifted further as she caught something strange out of the corner of her eye.

    The moment she realized what she was seeing, her previously despondent demeanor shifted. Ears pricked, eyes widened, and her lips pulled back in a vengeful grin.

    "I see smoke!"

    Instantly, the other two whipped their necks to follow Rina''s pointing finger. A heartbeat later, they were all banking to their right. Wings bit deep into the air as they instinctively pushed their pace.

    There was no question of destination. Smoke meant other dragonettes. And it couldn''t be a coincidence. Not when the thieves had been nearby no more than a few days prior.

    Except, what initially appeared to be smoke from a cookfire or two grew into something more. Concerningly more.

    "That looks like a forest fire!" Rina shouted as they got closer.

    Attalee''s grunted reply was lost in the wind and Ness didn''t have the breath to spare. She was working hard to keep up with her larger comrades.

    Lightning could have hit a tree and smoldered the night away, only now flaring up. Unlikely, but that would be just their luck. Now they would have to get hot and dirty and covered in soot to keep their territory from going up in flames.

    The wind was mild. That was good. It was slowing the fire down. Any blaze that grew this big on its own was bound to spread, the question was just how fast.

    Only, as they approached the narrow swath of smoke, it was clear that it wasn''t growing. The forest in this area was thin. Mostly tall, needly evergreens, widely spaced in the sandy soil. Several of them were fully ablaze, towers of fire with the occasional pocket of resin bursting in cracks loud enough to make the huntresses jerk.

    That was all, though. A ring of blackened needles surrounded the burning trees, the extent of the fire''s reach. Shrubs and pinecones and fallen needles had burned and smoldered and eventually petered out before the fire could grow to a true inferno.

    They still made sure it wasn''t going to spread further. Rina moved along the edge of the charred ground, tossing the odd smoking branch further in and scraping a shallow ditch through deep drifts of dry needles or around fallen logs. The others did the same nearby.

    It didn''t take long. Most of what was going to burn already had. The fire would need to be watched in case the wind picked up and blew an errant spark somewhere nearby. For now, it was contained.

    Rina rejoined the other huntresses where they were watching the flames from a safe distance. Or that was what she had thought that they were doing. As she approached, it became clear that they were staring at something at their feet instead of the fire.

    "What''s that?" It looked like some torn up ground to Rina. The kind of patch that a pack of boar might leave after rooting for food.

    Silently, Attalee pointed.

    It hadn''t registered as a print at first. Just a few nearly parallel depressions in the dirt. The scale was simply too big. Only after long heartbeats of staring did the pattern emerge.

    Her eyes widened and she took an involuntary step back.

    "Yeah." Ness''s usual energetic demeanor was subdued for once. "It looks a bit like a nauliker''s prints, but..."

    "But naulikers don''t grow to be the size of a small hill," Rina finished, unnecessarily.

    In fact, the low slung, green hexapeds rarely grew past a dragonette''s waist. They tended to be pack hunters, too, with an extremely poisonous bite.

    The trio were all quiet as their imaginations flew with the idea. The thought of just one of those predators grown larger than a tirox, much less an entire pack of them, sent an involuntary shiver down Rina''s spine and to the tip of her tail.

    "It could be a prank." Rina didn''t sound like she believed her own words.

    Attalee had been quiet up to then, but she shook her head, hard. "Do you know anyone who would go through this much trouble, to risk the forest for a prank?!" By the end of it, she was nearly snarling, ears pinned back and lips pulled up to expose her teeth.

    Rina took an involuntary step back, then caught herself as she realized she wasn''t the target of her friend''s fury. "Then, what?" she asked, rhetorically. "Have the Dragons returned?"

    The comment was met with silence, and a weight settled in her guts as she actually thought about what she had said.

    It was ridiculous, of course. If the children of the Makers had come back, they would have made themselves known. Come out of the sky to Companion Cue and the Matriarchs and the entire tribe.

    "No." Attalee was firm on that. She motioned around, and for the first time Rina noticed that there was a clear path. More massive footprints and broken branches stretched in two directions. "Whatever it is, it can''t fly. Dragons could fly."

    The stories were certainly clear on that. But...

    "Just because they could fly, doesn''t mean they had to. And there''s nothing else big enough to do that. Nothing big enough to take down a tirox, either, if you hadn''t noticed which way that trail goes." Rina jerked her head back up the path, towards the direction that they had come from. "Nothing."

    "Why, then? Why would a Dragon be here? Now? Traveling on the ground like a beast?"

    They locked eyes. After a moment, Rina flicked her ears and glanced away.

    "We''re not going to find out standing around here," she muttered.

    "What was that?"

    "I said, we should be following this trail. It''s fresh! And we can see it from the air!" Rina was getting more enthusiastic as she spoke, and she extended her wings slightly, tail flicking in excitement.

    "So we go chasing a ''Dragon'' and let the forest burn behind us?"

    "This fire doesn''t need all three of us to watch it! I can go, follow the trail, and come back as soon as I''ve found the Dr- found whatever made it."

    Attalee didn''t look happy with the idea. Neither did Ness, although for very different reasons.

    "Why you? I''m just as good a tracker as you are! I can go!"

    "Because I''ve hunted alone a lot more than you have."

    "So what? I passed the trials. I''m a huntress. I can do anything you can!"

    Rina sighed and she clenched her jaw, trying to come up with a counter. Ness was a huntress. She could follow a trail this obvious in her sleep. ''But, damn it, this was my idea!''

    "If it''s another tribe, Rina knows them better," Attalee interrupted.

    "But-"

    "You''ve only attended one midsummer conclave as a huntress. And you spent most of it at the games."

    Ness gestured wildly at the tracks. "That''s not a bunch of huntresses! And maybe my magic-"

    Once again, Attalee cut her off. "It''s not alone. Remember the arrow we found?"

    Rina had to admit, that was a good point. ''I had forgotten about that.''

    It was also enough that Ness gave a single, grudging nod.

    With the battle won, Rina put a hand on her fellow''s shoulder. "I''m just going to go find it. Then, who knows? It might be up to you."

    The younger huntress gave a halfhearted shrug, and then a hint of a smile. "If you don''t get eaten."

    "Well, if that happens, at least you''ll know you were right from the start."

    That earned a snort from Ness and a flicked ear. Even Attalee was smiling as she said, "Follow the trail. Find out what made it. We''ll follow when we can. And... stay safe." Her gaze softened at that last.

    "It''s just like you said," Rina replied with a cocky grin. "Whatever was here can''t fly. I can."

    With that, she sighted on a path clear of trees and got a running start.

    The trail was as easy to follow from the air as she had hoped. The torn ground and trampled brush were easy enough to spot through the widely spaced canopies. Here and there, yellowish wood showed through torn bark.

    If she flew low enough, Rina knew that she''d catch the sharp smell of fresh resin leaking from those gaping wounds. But she remembered what Attalee had said, and remained at a healthy altitude. It slowed her down a little bit, but hopefully not enough to matter.

    The path led to the bank of a good sized stream and didn''t reappear beyond it. After a quick circle to check for danger, the huntress was forced to make a low pass before finally landing near the muddy shore.

    It looked like someone had dragged logs from the forest and into the water. Silt had splashed across rocks, recently enough that it still wasn''t completely dry. More of those massive tracks were everywhere, clear as day in the soft ground.

    There were more prints just upstream of the disturbance. Smaller. Clearly made by a dragonette at the same time as the rest.

    "Damn, Attalee was right." Rina spoke aloud, even though there was no one to hear her. "But who are these people? Why are they here? It still doesn''t make any sense!"

    One thing was clear at least. The group had headed upstream. She spotted shifted rocks and water sloshed onto the bank. Rina took off and flew low over the water, just above the tops of the trees that grew intermittently on either side.

    Her eyes darted left and right, looking for any place that her quarry might have left the stream. Then she hunted ahead in case they were close enough that she could catch sight of them.

    There was a patch of blackened grass and withered leaves at one point along the trail. The sharp smell of smoke pervaded the area, although there wasn''t a clear source. Rina circled the place several times, and her confusion only grew.

    "Did they build a bonfire in the middle of the stream?!" Enough of the rocks were coated in soot to certainly look that way. It was another mystery, and one she''d hopefully have an answer to soon.

    The stream grew narrower, flowing faster as the ground got steeper. Ahead and off to one side, the cliffs rose towards the sky. Dark stains showed where water poured over them, a few still trickling from the last night''s rains.

    It was as she was looking towards these cliffs that a great gout of flames erupted. The blast engulfed a stand of trees just in front of her and set them ablaze in an instant.

    Rina jerked as the heat hit her like a wall. She banked and whirled as more fire exploded out from a hidden canyon. It was accompanied by a sound like rolling thunder, only louder and infinitely more terrifying.

    Before she knew it, Rina had turned completely and was sprinting back the way she had come. Her breath came in gasps as her wings worked harder than ever before.

    ''What in the Makers'' names did that?!'' It was some sort of magic, of course. But more powerful than she had ever heard of, much less seen.

    It wasn''t long until she slowed, curiosity beginning to overwhelm fear. Clouds of black smoke rose from pillars of orange flame behind her, but it had come no closer. Nothing was chasing her. The skies were clear.

    No doubt Attalee and Ness would be here soon. With so much smoke, they wouldn''t have to stay low and follow a trail. Rina knew that they would be coming. Probably were already coming. All she needed to do was circle where she was and they would find her.

    Only, Attalee hadn''t just said to stay safe. She had also ordered her to find out what made the trail. And no huntress was a coward. ''I was surprised, is all,'' she told herself.

    As she turned once more, Rina decided on what she would do. ''Fly over that canyon. See what''s there. Keep plenty of altitude. Don''t let them get the drop on me again.''

    Her flight back was slower and more cautious than before. Rina untied her bow and pulled an arrow from its quiver. Flint tipped rather than the wooden points used for rabbits and small game.

    Thick smoke and turbulence around the fire''s edges forced her to go wide around the inferno. Wind from the canyon was channeling it outward, towards the barrier of the stream. Every so often a great burst of sparks and more dark smoke would shoot up from the middle of the blaze.

    Everything was hazy as she tried to pick out details below. A flash of movement on the cliff edge caught her eye. It was a dragonette, sprinting along the ledge. The figure lunged and tackled... something.

    Rina banked and dropped a little lower. Whatever it was, the thing was dark and about the size of a young wolf. It thrashed for a moment before falling still.

    As its killer rose, she caught sight of black fur and red blood and her eyes went wide.

    ''Delerion...'' It had been years since she had seen one. A group of huntresses had brought the corpse into camp. They had filled it full of arrows then cut its head off for good measure. It was a good thing that the monsters were smart enough to avoid villages or large camps, because their power to cloud the mind was utterly terrifying.

    Which was why bringing one down from so close was impressive. This huntress must have had a will of granite to fight off the hallucinations long enough to kill it.

    Below her, the dragonette staggered. She caught herself, but seemed unsteady. Almost drunk. One step was all she made before collapsing onto the corpse of her prey.

    The reason became clear a moment later as Rina spotted the sleek, black form on the other side of the canyon. Mate or sibling or child or parent, it didn''t matter. The delerion was focused on its partner''s killer and was using its dark magic to exact revenge.

    Rina hesitated only for a moment. Any caution was overridden by the sight of a fellow huntress in distress. She was above and behind the foul monster and she drew back her bowstring as she began a shallow dive.

    The shot was an easy one. Her prey was completely unaware of her, focused as it was. She loosed the arrow and was rewarded by a screech of pain and sudden thrashing as the point buried itself in its back.

    Gripping the bow with one hand, Rina slipped the knot free from her spear and turned her gentle descent into a screaming dive.

    It was a maneuver every huntress practiced over and over again. Bows could wound larger game, but it took a lucky hit to put them down quickly. That was where the spears came in.

    The beast spotted her approach in the final moments and tried to dodge, but Rina adjusted her angle ever so slightly, then pulled out of her dive just as she released the spear. She skimmed just above the wounded delerion right as the point buried itself deep into its flank.

    There was the sound of a wet thwack and the scream of pain cut off behind her. A quick look backwards showed that the impact had sent the beast staggering over the edge of the cliff. Rina winced as it landed on top of her spear, shattering the shaft and probably the brittle flint point as well.

    That left the unknown huntress below, now pushing herself to her feet.

    There wasn''t any question of what would happen next. Rina came down for a landing and the other huntress stepped back to give her room.

    ''No, not a huntress!'' It was a shock to realize that the dragonette in front of her was too short and stocky to be a female. He was well over a head shorter than she was, the oddly twisted tip of his left horn only coming up to her chin.

    There might be a little growth left in him, though. He was definitely young, at least a few years younger than she was.

    His clothes were odd, too. Not any sort of hide that she''d ever seen before, and they had strange fasteners. The belt at his waist held an assortment of items whose purpose she could guess at. A sheath that looked impossibly long, an empty quiver, some leather pouches.

    He definitely wasn''t someone Rina recognized from any of the solstice celebrations. ''Kind of cute, though,'' she had to admit. Dirty and a touch scrawny, sure. He had still managed to kill a delerion up close. Even if he looked a little dazed from the ordeal, that was quite a feat.

    Then he lifted a hand, and extended one finger towards her.

    When it didn''t stop, she smacked it away. "Hey, snap out of it!" She was a little louder than she needed to be, and regretted it as he flinched. Now that the excitement was wearing off, Rina was remembering that she was alone, and the dragonette in front of her likely had friends around.

    "Where are the rest of you?" she asked, at a more reasonable volume.

    He looked at her in obvious confusion and said... something. It wasn''t a word that she could make out.

    "Your friends. Where are they?" And then, "Hello? Are you okay?"

    Again, the young male spoke unintelligible gibberish.

    ''Did the delerion do something to his mind?'' If it had, maybe Cue could fix him. Or his own shaman.

    Gently but firmly, Rina grabbed his hand and pulled him to the cliff edge. She was suddenly reminded of the roaring fire down below and winced. ''At least it probably won''t spread.'' The single stand of trees at the mouth of the canyon quickly thinned out.

    "Where are the rest of you? The ones who did that?" She gestured towards the fire below and looked him in the eyes to make sure that he understood.

    She wasn''t sure if he caught the meaning, but he did start talking. The way he spoke sounded flat, syllables long and drawn out compared to what Rina was used to. She was starting to gather that there was meaning there. Then one of the words jumped out to her.

    "Dragon?"

    It seemed to catch him off-guard, but he nodded enthusiastically. He started to say more before the world seemed to shake.

    From the burning forest below, a giant emerged. Red as the flames that birthed it, the monster roared as it pushed burning logs aside. But these were roars of anger, not pain, and it took no notice of the embers that showered it.

    Four legs as wide as tree trunks carried it forward. Enormous wings were furled along its back.

    ''No... one wing.'' The distant thought registered only faintly as she took an involuntary step back. Then another. Until the cliff edge hid the terrifying sight.

    She hadn''t believed. Not really. Even with the tracks, the fire. It had just been a crazy idea. Half hope, half stubbornness.

    "A Dragon..." she whispered as the strange dragonette started yelling its way. "They''ve returned..."

    And for better or worse, she knew that everything was about to change.

 Chapter 32: A New Day

    Aytin had gotten used to waking up warm. After all, the fire in Faelon''s belly was better than any hot water bottle.

    Something was different this morning. He was warm, yes. But the soft shape he was pressed up against didn''t radiate the same heat that he remembered.

    It was also... smaller?

    He opened his eyes, squinting to make out shapes in the faint light. For the first time in what felt like a very long time, Faelon wasn''t there to greet him.

    The pile of furs and leather blankets in front of him stirred slightly. Aytin reached out to pull them back, revealing Rina slowly blinking the sleep out of her own eyes.

    She looked around for a moment, and then smiled widely upon realizing that it was Aytin pressed against her. He could feel more than hear her soft purr start up as she nuzzled him.

    Aytin felt himself grin as he returned the affection. And that grin only grew as he recalled the previous night.

    ''I never expected my first time to be... well... yeah.''

    And after everything that had happened over the past weeks, a part of him was still waiting for it all to come tumbling down again.

    The rest, though? The rest was perfectly happy to see exactly where this particular path led.

    "Good morning," he said, before giving a quiet yelp as the nuzzle turned into a nip.

    Rina stretched and looked down on him, a coy expression on her face. "Good morning."

    She rose, and the blankets fell away, and...

    Aytin worked very, very hard to push down the instinctive embarrassment that threatened to send him turning away. Instead, he forced himself to watch. That part, at least, wasn''t particularly hard. And it had been kind of dark the night before.

    "Saza was wrong, you know?" Rina said as she hunted for her clothes.

    "What?" Aytin had been paying more attention to what she was doing with her tail than her words.

    "She said you are small." Rina looked over her shoulder and flicked an ear playfully when she caught him staring. "You are not."

    That did it. Aytin couldn''t contain his embarrassment and Rina burst out laughing as he buried his head deep in the blankets.

    "Awww," she crooned, gently patting him on the shoulder. "Was it that bad? I didn''t think so."

    "Noooo." His voice was muffled by the blankets, so Aytin peaked up to look at the other dragonette. She was smiling down reassuringly at him. "It was..." He struggled for the right word in wildling. "It was amazing."

    "Good." And then, a little more quietly, she added, "It was amazing for me, too." Rina gave him one final pat and then flicked the little jog in his horn.

    In retaliation, Aytin aimed a poke at her still bare behind, but the huntress danced away.

    "Hey! Later!" Rina scooped up his clothes and tossed them over. "It is late. We slept too much already."

    "Sleep? You got sleep?"

    His coat came flying and hit him in the face, sending him falling back with a theatrical grunt.

    "Put on your clothes," she ordered. "We can sleep more later."

    "Okay, okay." Aytin pushed himself out of the nest of blankets and started pulling on his pants. This time, he felt a lot less self-conscious about doing it around Rina.

    Soon enough, they were both dressed and at least marginally presentable. Rina led the way out, pulling the hut''s leather flap back and letting in the bright, midmorning sun.

    The camp was a hive of activity. Wildlings moved around with a purpose. Many of the faces were familiar from the night before, although Aytin didn''t know any by name.

    Breakfast had long since passed, but there were strips of meat laid out near one of the cookfires. Paired with some salted nuts from the cache, it made a decent meal. Certainly better than poorly cooked tirox.

    He was just sitting down to eat when the first of what would turn out to be a near endless stream of wildlings came over to pay their respects. At least most of them seemed busy. They only had time to mutter a "Companion," and bow. But a few tried to engage him in longer conversations.

    "The Matriarchs made their announcement," Aytin remarked as one particularly insistent supplicant by the name of Drav finally left. Aytin vaguely recognized him as one of the dragonettes who backed up Khrik the previous night. "It is good that we get up now. But we should have sooner."

    "That is your fault, not mine."

    He didn''t bother with a response beyond a sigh. ''This is going to take some getting used to.''

    There was going to be an assembly of wildlings near noon. Volunteers from all of the nearby settlements would arrive so he could decide which ones would join him in service to the "Dragon Faelon." He should have plenty to choose from.

    Another shadow fell over Aytin as he tried to finish his breakfast. "There you are. I was worried that I would need to send a messenger to find you."

    "Matriarch Vozdi!" Rina was on her feet in an instant, but Aytin took the time to finish his bite before rising.

    "How can I help, Matriarch?" he asked after a short bow of greeting.

    The much older wildling didn''t bother with any pleasantries. "Come. We have things to discuss."

    Without another word, she turned and strode off towards the same hut that they had used for their discussions the previous night.

    Aytin looked a question at Rina.

    "It is her way," she answered.

    Having managed to eat his fill between conversations with wildlings, Aytin didn''t see any sense in delaying. Still... "How is she a Matriarch?"

    "It is her way," his companion answered. But she quickly clarified. "Matriarch Vozdi was a strong warrior. And a smart one. She is still both. But she is not..." The huntress searched for a tactful way to put it before finally settling on, "Not accepting of weakness."

    "She acts to me like Attalee."

    Surprisingly, the observation was greeted by a nod of agreement. "Attalee is the Matriarch''s niece. Her sister''s daughter."

    "Oh." There was some resemblance there, come to think of it. Although that sort of web of relations wasn''t really unexpected in a tribe this size.

    ''Do they get new blood, somehow? It''s a big tribe, but not that big.'' He made a note to ask about that. But later. A meeting with the wildling leadership wasn''t the time for it.

    Inside the hut were three familiar dragonettes and one he didn''t recognize.

    "Matriarch Nej?" Aytin guessed as the unknown wildling struggled to her feet. "Please, you do not-"

    "My legs still work," she huffed, confirming her identity and waving away any attempts to help. "Wings, too. I seem to have to remind everyone of that more and more."

    Onlo shook her head at the eldest Matriarch''s stubbornness. "Do you want another visit from Healer Agon?"

    "This will not kill me. And the Companion of a Dragon deserves this respect."

    While the other two Matriarchs kept straight-faced at the pronouncement, Cue enthusiastically followed her example, practically jumping to his feet to give his own bow.

    Aytin returned the gestures and then offered a hand to the ancient looking dragonette. She at least seemed grateful to accept help returning to her seat in the cushioning furs.

    Once they were all settled, Aytin began, "Matriarch Nej, I am happy to meet you. And happy to see you healthy."

    She inclined her head in acknowledgment. "And I am very glad to meet you, Companion Aytin."

    "Now, what do you want to talk about?"

    "You have heard about the gathering?" At their guest''s nod, Vozdi continued, "You will select your volunteers there. Ten huntresses, no more than sixteen others."

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    "Nine huntresses," Onlo said, a sparkle in her eyes. "He has at least one picked out already."

    "Nine huntresses," Vozdi agreed, and Aytin struggled to keep his ears from instinctively flattening back in embarrassment. "What is your plan for them?"

    Thankfully, it was something he had discussed with Faelon.

    "We have some plans. But we do not know who we have to help us. We cannot plan and not know what we have."

    "I understand that your plans are still in the winds, but we would like to know them anyway."

    So Aytin briefly described a few of the possible ideas. Ambushing the brigands when they returned to the keep. Staging a crash site to draw Xantha to a battlefield of their choice. Picking off individual scouting parties until they had numerical superiority.

    They were the plans that didn''t require overwhelming force. Consequently, most focused on surprise to carry the day.

    "Your ideas do not seem particularly honorable," Matriarch Onlo noted as he finished.

    Aytin had to admit she was right. Nor could he blame her. The wildlings shared many of the same beliefs as civilized dragonettes about battle, including a disdain for subterfuge.

    "We are not fighting honorable enemies," he pointed out. "They are traitors. Do they deserve honor? Do you give darklings a chance to defend themselves?"

    "You said these are not darklings."

    "No." He realized that in his rush to justify himself he had mixed up his translation. Taking a deep breath, he clarified. "They are traitors, not darklings. But those are close."

    Matriarch Onlo didn''t look happy at this, but she didn''t press the point.

    Deciding to steer the conversation elsewhere, Aytin brought up a request he had been meaning to make for some time. "We do need clay pots. Twenty or thirty small ones. They do not need to be good quality. They just need to hold some liquid."

    "When and why?" Vozdi asked, resuming her role as spokeswoman for the trio of elders.

    "Soon. I want to take some back with me. The rest later. Why? We use them to hold Dragon Magic." At their cocked heads, he said, "It is hard to say more. But I say the truth. We fill them with a small part of Faelon''s magic and give them to fighters."

    That seemed to impress them, especially Cue. ''I can''t let him see how Faelon fills them with his Magic. That might just cause a crisis of faith.'' And spit-filled fire pots didn''t sound nearly as impressive as handing out jugs of Dragon Magic. The weapon would be useful regardless of the plan they settled on.

    "We also give the fighters weapons. Bows, steel spear heads, knives." They wouldn''t have time to train them particularly well with bounty in the cache, nor was Aytin a particularly skilled teacher. He planned to focus on improving the weapons they already used.

    "What about the rest? When will we receive the reward you promised? And the Dragon Magic to let us sleep through the winter?"

    Cue looked like he wanted to say something, but a quick look from Vozdi silenced him. Oddly, Matriarch Nej appeared at least a little uncomfortable as well.

    ''A sympathetic voice in the Matriarchs?'' He could only hope.

    "I understand you need the things to prepare for winter." ''And in case we die in the attempt,'' although that part went unsaid. "We trust you with this. You send workers with us, and they bring back the reward."

    It wasn''t like there was any point in holding back. While Faelon could carry the contents of the cache, that would just weigh him down. Nor did they need to worry about the tribe reneging on their word. Even if they weren''t as honorable as he had come to believe, the tribe''s reverence towards dragons would keep them faithful.

    When the elders seemed to accept that part of the arrangement, he went on to address the other part of Vozdi''s question. "I will prepare the Dragon Magic for the long sleep before the fight. Faelon must bless the bark of..." He didn''t know the translation for Heaven Oak, so Aytin just said, "The bark from one of the very, very large trees near the keep."

    The gathering suddenly went still, and an uncomfortable silence descended. They weren''t quite looking at him like he had admitted to bathing in the ocean, but it wasn''t far off.

    Cue was the first to speak. "The Heaven Oak grove... it is sacred. Going there is forbidden."

    Once Rina helped him understand the unfamiliar words, Aytin tilted his head in confusion. "Why?" Sacred certainly made sense. Heaven Oaks were put on the islands by the gods, after all. But forbidden?

    "It has always been forbidden. For as long as anyone can remember. The stories say that the Dragons ordered it so." That last caused the shaman to pause. "But if Dragon Faelon needs it..."

    Clearly, this was a difficult theological problem. Thankfully, it was one that was easily resolved. "I will show you how to gather the bark, Companion Cue," Aytin offered. "We must respect the trees, but Dragon Faelon will give his blessing."

    That seemed to satisfy him, but there were clearly lingering doubts as he slowly nodded his assent. The Matriarchs also deferred to their shaman on this, which was a first in Aytin''s experience.

    As they had been speaking, the noise from outside of the hut had grown gradually louder. Conversations and the sound of dragonettes gathering easily penetrated the thin walls.

    "The young Companion needs to choose his volunteers," Matriarch Nej said, her ancient voice only slightly louder than the background noise. "There is nothing more of importance to discuss, and you must leave tonight."

    "We can leave tomorrow. We have enough time that one night is not a problem." And it had nothing to do with getting to spend another night in Rina''s bed.

    The eldest Matriarch shook her head, though. "Unless you want to fly in the rain, it should be tonight."

    "Trust her," Onlo added. "She is never wrong about this."

    That was a different matter. And although Aytin was just a little wary of weather predictions after Xantha claimed that particular magical talent, he had no reason to ignore the elder.

    "I will not waste time then," he said, rising to his feet. "But if you have any suggestions for volunteers, please say them."

    Vozdi seemed ready for the request. "Huntress Rina will be able to help you. We trust her in this."

    Without even looking, Aytin could sense Rina would be glowing with pride at the vote of confidence. "I trust her, too."

    "Oh, we know," Onlo added with a wide grin, and this time Aytin couldn''t quite stifle his embarrassment.

    "Tell us the names you select," Vozdi said, pointedly ignoring her fellow''s antics. "We will prepare others to retrieve the items you have promised. Now go." She made a gesture of dismissal, and Aytin gave the assembled leaders a small bow before leaving.

    If anything, the central clearing was even more crowded than at the feast. It couldn''t be the entire tribe, but a rough estimate put it at a little under half of them. Seventy, maybe eighty wildlings, and most of them unfamiliar faces.

    Most of them.

    "You talked a long time."

    Twisting, Aytin saw the speaker and smiled. "Hello Saza. What are you doing here?"

    The hatchling was standing near the Matriarchs'' hut, apparently waiting for them to finish. She gave him a disdainful look and waved with a pointed stick that could charitably be called a spear.

    "I am here to fight!"

    "Aren''t you a-" He stopped himself before he went any further. Instead, he asked, "Are you good with that spear?"

    She nodded profusely. "I am the best!" Saza proceeded to start stabbing at invisible targets, and she did seem to handle the spear rather well for someone her age.

    "You''ve gotten so good, Saza!" Rina gushed. "You''ve kept up your practice while your mom and I were gone."

    "Yeah, Aunt Rina! Every day!"

    "Then you''re going to be a great huntress. But..." she trailed off, expression turning somber. "But you need to pass the trials, first."

    Saza''s snout wrinkled in annoyance. "That won''t be until forever!"

    "Only a few years. And if you keep training-"

    "I''m ready!" The look of righteous indignation on the little girl''s face was priceless. Suddenly, something occurred to her and she turned to Aytin. "If Dragon Faelon says I''m a huntress, then I''m a huntress."

    It wasn''t a question. And although dragon-ly authority might go far among these people, doubtless even they would balk at promoting a hatchling to the rank of huntress. Not that Aytin had any intention to try.

    "He could. But do you know that I have a sister? And she is a huntress?"

    The little girl shrugged. "So?"

    "At my home, it takes years and years of work to be a huntress. To show you and show other huntresses you are the best. My sister Lin wouldn''t know how good she is if a dragon just says that she is a huntress."

    "I know how good I am!"

    "Are you sure? Don''t you get better every time you train? That means you don''t know how good you can be until you train lots more."

    Saza was starting to look like she might come around, and Rina took the opportunity to step in. "And all the other best huntresses are going to fight for Dragon Faelon. Me, your mom, Aunt Ness and Verk and Okoni. The tribe needs protecting while we''re away."

    Finally, the little girl relented. "That makes sense."

    "And you know that most of the lookouts and huntresses are here, right? There''s no one to keep watch. Anything could be sneaking up right now!"

    That did it. Saza waved her spear in a salute and took off with a shouted, "I''m on my way!"

    Both stifled smiles as they watched the girl fly off. But something Rina had said stood out to Aytin.

    "You said that Attalee will fight?" Ness hadn''t made any secret about her eagerness to join in against Faelon''s enemies, and both Verk and Okoni seemed willing enough. But Attalee?

    She had done her best to avoid speaking to him since the day Cue arrived in the camp. Aytin had figured that she would be returning to the tribe as soon as the chance presented itself.

    "We talked before we left. All of us. Attalee wants to stay. Ness, Verk, and Okoni, too."

    "Huh." There weren''t equivalent ranks among wildling huntresses like the coppered, silvered, and gilded back home, but Attalee was skilled enough to at least be considered towards the top. If she wanted to fight, he would take her.

    That filled half of the huntress slots he had. At the same time, it raised more questions. "She say why?"

    "Attalee... she has lots of reasons," Rina said after a moment''s thought. "She knows you have honor. She will fight."

    "She doesn''t want to talk to me."

    "No! It is not that! She does, but she is..." When he didn''t understand the word, Rina explained, "She is like her daughter."

    He blinked, then nodded. "I think I understand. She thinks she is the best?"

    "No. But yes. Attalee is proud. She sees what you and Dragon Faelon are doing for us. And she hears what Companion Cue says. But she doesn''t want to let anyone else decide for her.

    "I think it is hard for her. She knows what we must do, but she doesn''t know. Not inside. Do you understand?"

    Again, Aytin nodded. His sister Suuie was like that. Prickly, like a needlefruit. "I will talk to her when we go back."

    Then he looked back to the mass of assembled wildlings. Their conversations had quieted and most were casting glances their way. A few were outright staring.

    Aytin looked towards the sun to gauge the time, and then at the crowd. "We need to be fast to leave tonight."

    "If we are fast, there might be time for more than that." The words were accompanied by a prod to his back that none of the onlookers could see.

    "Then we will be fast," he whispered back before stepping forward to greet the crowd of volunteers.

 Chapter 33: Tomorrow

    Dripping water woke Aytin. Even curled up against Faelon, partially sheltered by the cliffside and a canvas tarp, the rain still found its way in.

    ''At least we had some warning,'' he mentally grumbled. Normally he didn''t bother with more than a blanket when sleeping against the big dragon. The decision to use the makeshift cover this time had bought him at least half an hour before the seepage woke him.

    Even in the pre-dawn light, there were vague figures moving through the light rain. The sudden influx of almost twenty-five more fighters and a dozen porters had overwhelmed the little camp''s ability to provide shelter. Many of them didn''t have much more than rough lean-tos covered with hides salvaged from the cache.

    The previously dry creek bed had a trickle flowing through it. The rains weren''t hard enough to flood the canyon - Matriarch Nej had given them a more detailed prediction before they left - but most of the newcomers had chosen to spend the night on the clifftops, just in case.

    Faelon didn''t have that luxury. And with the core of the camp already constructed, some had decided to stay in the canyon. It did have the benefit of shelter from the cold winds picking up with the front''s passage.

    Wrapping the tarp around himself like a poncho, Aytin rose only to find Faelon staring at him.

    "Uh, good morning," he said, keeping his voice down out of deference to anyone still asleep.

    "I would not call it that, exactly." Long rivulets of water flowed down the dragon''s head, forcing him to blink every few seconds.

    "I guess not."

    Aytin''s spare clothes, at least, were still dry. They were sheltered under the overhang, along with the rest of the cache. And the rain wasn''t exactly heavy. Just a constant drizzle. His jacket would be reasonably proof against it.

    He clambered up onto the elevated ledge, and started stripping out of his damp clothes. Faelon had kept him warm despite the rain, but he knew from experience how fast the wet could sap a dragonette''s strength.

    Faelon rested his head nearby, keeping it dry and conveniently at a level with his companion. "I think that the wildling healer was too quick in letting you fly," he remarked. "Was the flight really that strenuous?"

    "Partly. It was hard, but yesterday was also busy. And I, uh, didn''t get much sleep in the village."

    "Ah. I admit I slept poorly as well."

    ''For a very different reason, I bet.''

    The evening before had been an exhausted blur. Faelon was right. He probably shouldn''t be flying, and they hadn''t taken any breaks on the way back. Aytin could vaguely recall flashes of getting something to eat and Rina apologizing about not having a private tent for them to sleep in. He also couldn''t have said more than twenty words to Faelon before passing out.

    "So," the dragon continued. "Are you rested enough to tell me what happened? I see you managed to find us a wing or two, if not exactly an army."

    "Yeah. It turns out that Cue was probably overselling the tribe''s willingness a little. The Matriarchs were not going to send the entire tribe out. Not a chance in all the skies. We were lucky to get just this many, and we only get to keep about twenty-five of them." He waved towards the camp that was slowly coming to life behind them.

    "Perhaps you should start at the beginning?"

    That was exactly what he did. He told the dragon about the wildling village, the feast, and how the Matriarchs tried to keep his true purpose there quiet. Then how Cue had manipulated them into an impossible situation. One that Aytin was able to offer them an escape from.

    "I will admit that I underestimated the shaman," Faelon said upon the tale''s conclusion.

    "A lot of people did, I think. I don''t know if I exactly like him, but we''d be on our own without him."

    "Any shelter from turbulent skies."

    Cue hadn''t accompanied them. There were apparently duties that he had neglected. Or maybe the Matriarchs just wanted to keep an eye on him. Either way, he planned on meeting them in about a week to gather Heaven Oak bark.

    Aytin had a feeling it would have been longer than that, but much later and they would risk being spotted by the returning brigands. They should still have at least ten days until the earliest chance of return, but it wasn''t worth the risk to push it.

    "Did the Matriarchs send their best, at least?" Faelon asked

    "They didn''t have much of a choice. Not once the word got out."

    Rina had been a huge help in sorting through all of the volunteers. In almost every case, he had gone with her suggestions. The one exception was when he insisted on including Khrik and at least a few more of Cue''s most devout followers in the final list.

    She had been a little confused by that. It wasn''t as if they were unqualified. All three of them were in good shape and shared guard duty as required. The wildlings didn''t have anything as formal as an official guard, but they were among the ones who drew the duty more often than others.

    More, it was the fact that he had an opinion at all that seemed to confuse her. He had his reasons, but at the time he hadn''t wanted to explain them and Rina didn''t press.

    "I don''t suppose they have any experience with actual combat?"

    Aytin shook his head. "They have to deal with darklings from time to time, but I don''t think that''s happened in years."

    "And a week for them to get used to real weapons."

    "They already know how to use knives, bows, and spears. The crossbows and firepots won''t be hard to pick up."

    "True. I suppose we do not need soldiers, anyway. Except for their dragon." Faelon added the last with almost a snarl.

    Kalthor''s presence had been the biggest flaw in all of their plans. On the ground, talon against talon, the bigger and stronger red dragon could be counted on to prevail. Getting the traitor into that fight, however, proved to be difficult.

    "I had... an idea on that."

    Faelon''s gaze narrowed. "Go on."

    Unable to meet the dragon''s eyes, Aytin looked back towards camp. With a long sigh, he finally answered. "Lancers."

    It obviously wasn''t an answer that Faelon expected. His snout furrowed in thought for a moment before he nodded. "I see."

    "It''s why I asked for Khrik and a couple others. A bunch of mercenaries wouldn''t be willing to field lancers, but..." He trailed off, not fully comfortable with what he was proposing.

    So he was more than a little bit relieved when Faelon shook his head slightly. "They would be seen before they could build up speed. We would need an entire wing, attacking from different directions at once. Otherwise the traitor would burn them out of the sky before they could strike."

    "Oh." He blinked, and was a little guilty at the relief he felt at the rejection. "I guess you''re right."

    "Still, it is an idea worth thinking on. If they could approach in secret, or with a sufficient distraction..." the dragon mused. "Yes, definitely worth thinking on."

    "Yeah, uh..." Aytin wasn''t exactly keen on asking some of the wildlings to commit suicide. Especially not in the name of a fake religion. There just weren''t very many ways dragonettes could fight dragons and expect to win without getting very, very lucky.

    He hunted around for some other topic before settling on, "So how did you get along without me?"

    Instantly, Faelon stilled. "I do not enjoy being a pet," he practically hissed.

    "They treated you like... a pet?" ''Was Attalee that bad?''

    "No... not deliberately," the dragon admitted, and then exhaled a long, whistling sigh. "They feed me. They guard me. They watch me. Like I am some sort of prized livestock. I am a thing to them."

    "Ah. Being a ''god'' is lonely?" The comment earned him a dark stare. "Sorry. I... I think I understand, though. I expect you feel a bit like a prisoner."

    Faelon paused, and then nodded. "I suppose so. We are leaving soon, yes?"

    "Yes." It was an obvious subject change if he had ever heard one. "The rain is supposed to let up in the afternoon. We''ll leave then."

    "Why wait? I do not need to fly."

    "Uhhh... I don''t think that actually occurred to anyone." He thought about it briefly. "You''ll probably want some scouts once you get out of the canyon. If we start around noon, things should be clearing up right as we get there."

    "Good. I am ready to be on the move again."

    One of the wildlings up the canyon had noticed him and waved. When he realized that it was Rina, he grinned and waved back.

    "Aytin?"

    Faelon''s question jerked him back into the conversation. "Sorry, did you say something?"

    "I was saying that with a full belly and others to make camp for us, we may reach the keep by late tomorrow. Noon the day after, if our start is delayed." Faelon turned slightly and caught sight of Rina. The huntress quickly bowed her head under the gaze of her god and hurried off to attend to some duty.

    "The two of you..."

    It wasn''t a question. Merely an observation. And when Aytin didn''t reply, Faelon asked, "Have you thought this through?"

    "Not... not exactly."

    "Well, you should. Especially about what she sees in you."

    Aytin jerked like he had been slapped. "Hey!"

    "I apologize. I did not mean it that way."

    Only the fact that the dragon sounded like he really meant it kept Aytin from exploding on the spot. "Well, what way exactly did you mean it? There''s not many ways that sort of question can sound good."

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    "I mean, you have known her for less than a week. You have been able to actually talk to her with more than pointing and grunting for less than half of that. So you should be asking yourself why? Why you? What does she want?"

    "That''s not fair!"

    "No," the dragon admitted. "But the truth often is unfair. I have seen this often enough over the years. From both sides."

    "Yeah, I''m sure you''ve been right where I am dozens of times. It''s got to be so common!" The sarcasm was as caustic as a black dragon''s breath.

    "Aytin-"

    "No!" the young dragonette spat. "Thanks a lot, Faelon, but I think I know exactly what''s going on."

    Without waiting for another word, Aytin grabbed his things and hopped off of the ledge. He might have flown off just to spite the crippled dragon, but the rain made that risky. Sending up splashes of mud as he stomped away would have to do.

    What he really wanted to do was find somewhere that he could scream and shout and curse. He felt shaken. Betrayed by Faelon, someone he thought he had a bond with deeper than just friendship.

    And even worse was the tiny, nagging doubt that he hadn''t been betrayed after all.

    Instead of screaming at the gods, Aytin forced the emotions down. ''Not now. Not in front of the wildlings. They can''t know anything is wrong.''

    Someone had erected an awning of sorts against the cliffside. It was crowded, but there looked to be enough room for a shorter than average dragonette to squeeze in.

    He sighed and managed to put on a more neutral expression before joining the group.

    "Companion Aytin!" one of them greeted him.

    "Huntress Verk," he replied, managing a smile. "Are you still happy that you stayed with us and didn''t fly home?"

    Just like Rina had said, all of the huntresses who had first found him along with Cue''s escorts had volunteered to remain. He spotted Okoni and Ness as well, although both were looking a little worse for wear.

    "I''m happy to be of service to the Dragon Faelon," she replied. "And I know to listen to Matriarch Nej''s warnings. Unlike some."

    "It''s not our fault!" Ness insisted. Her words were ever so slightly slurred. "Our tent was near the wall. How could we have known there would be a waterfall over there?"

    Aytin glanced over to where he had remembered the young huntress pitching her tent and winced. A constant stream of water was pouring over the edge, no more than a wingspan away from her shelter.

    "Everything got wet," Okoni confirmed.

    On closer inspection, her clothes were definitely soaked. It was no wonder that both were staying close enough to the fire that they risked getting burned.

    "The Matriarch said it will stop just after noon," he assured them. He was pretty sure that would feel like forever to the miserable huntresses, but it was all the support he could give.

    Well, there were some spare outfits in the cache, but... Faelon was there and Aytin didn''t want to face the dragon again.

    So he smiled and commiserated, laughed at a few jokes and did his best to translate some of his own. It was still strange to be the center of attention. That had always been his mother or older siblings. Or Reed and her traders during the trip.

    The newer wildlings didn''t quite know what to make of him, but the ones who had been around camp longer knew Aytin as more than Faelon''s Companion. Hearing Ness, the most junior huntress there, cheerfully insult his flying had to shock a few of them. But not as much as when he replied by asking if she was compensating for something by making fun of a male''s aerial prowess.

    He spent the morning moving between the various groups of wildlings, sometimes watching and often pitching in with chores. The porridge he contributed to breakfast was a big hit, especially with the ones who hadn''t had a chance to try it before.

    Rina stuck with him for most of it. And it was obvious that Faelon was wrong about her.

    ''She''s just... We like each other. That''s it.'' He gave his... girlfriend? He gave his girlfriend a smile, and was instantly reassured when she returned it with a grin so wide that he could see the nub of a tooth growing to replace the missing incisor.

    "How did that happen, anyway?" he asked, gesturing to her mouth.

    She blinked, and then her ears drooped slightly. "It was... an accident."

    "You didn''t knock it out on purpose? Amazing!" He just managed to dodge the retaliatory poke that he knew would be coming.

    "She wasn''t careful around a deer," Ness cheerfully informed him as she passed. Her time by the fire seemed to have gotten her moving again.

    "You let a deer do that?" Aytin asked, exaggerated incredulity dripping from every word.

    Rina glared back at him. "I thought it was dead."

    "And when she went to start cleaning it, the beast kicked her in the mouth."

    "Oooh!" Aytin said, wincing.

    "It wasn''t even breathing!"

    "Yes it was! I told you it was!"

    "At least I never mistook a... for a rabbit!"

    Aytin frowned and bent over to Verk who had also stopped to watch. "What did she think was a rabbit?"

    "Skunk. A small, black and white furred animal with a bad, bad smell."

    His eyes widened. "We don''t have that where I''m from."

    "You''re lucky."

    As Rina and Ness continued to try and one-up each other, he leaned over to Verk and asked, "Are they related? Sisters?"

    "No," the huntress replied with a small head shake. "Just close."

    The impromptu entertainment was interrupted by heavy footsteps. Faelon was approaching, and he eyed the circle of dragonettes with mild curiosity. His gaze fell on Aytin. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

    Still, his words held no malice as he said, "I will meet you at the canyon entrance."

    He really didn''t want to answer, but with all the wildlings around he was compelled to say something. "Fine. I''ll see you there." It was a struggle to keep resentment out of those words, but he managed and the dragon gave a brief nod before continuing on his way.

    "Where is Dragon Faelon going," Rina asked, her argument forgotten.

    "He wanted to go ahead," Aytin answered, truthfully. He went on to explain the dragon''s plan, if not all of the reasons behind it. That elicited some mutterings from the wildlings, but he was able to persuade them that Faelon didn''t need an escort for the brief walk.

    After that, the wildlings began to break camp in earnest. The rain was already beginning to lighten, just as predicted by the Matriarch. Aytin still needed to get with the porters before they left, to discuss what parts of the cache were going where. But first, there was one more conversation that he needed to have. One that, when he explained it to her, Rina agreed he should have on his own.

    "Attalee?"

    The huntress didn''t bother to turn. She had no doubt heard his approach, but chose not to acknowledge it. Rain slid from her leather cloak as she stared down from her perch into the canyon below.

    "Attalee, can we talk?"

    She shrugged. "I won''t stop you."

    It wasn''t going like he thought it would. ''Well, sort of. I figured she might just send me flying off without a word.''

    But he didn''t know exactly what to say as none of his rehearsed explanations seemed to fit. An awkward silence began to stretch, and he filled it with the first thing that came to mind.

    "I met Saza at the village."

    Attalee spun around at those words, a snarl on her face. "Are you threatening my daughter?!"

    "What? No. No! Never, not ever!" He took an involuntary step back from the enraged mother. "Oh, shit. I didn''t- She just... ugh!"

    The snarl relaxed, but Attalee''s glare remained. "What about her, then?"

    "I- She was the first one to talk to me. When we got there. That''s all! I didn''t even know she was your daughter until after!"

    "And?"

    "And... uh... she called me small."

    The completely unexpected remark left the huntress obviously nonplussed. Then, clearly against her will, she let out a snort that might charitably have been called a laugh. "That does sound like her."

    "She wants to be like you. She tried to volunteer for this."

    "Ah." This time Attalee''s response was noncommittal.

    The silence stretched out again. Before it could get too oppressive, Aytin pressed the question.

    "Why are you still here?"

    The reply was immediate. "I have to be here."

    "No, you don''t. There are many others to take your place." He motioned at the dragonettes below. "There are this many who want to come, but cannot."

    "I didn''t say I want to be here. I have to be here."

    Aytin blinked. "Why?"

    "They want to be here."

    It took a moment. His grasp of the language was still far from perfect. But in the end, he understood.

    "Oh. You... you protect them?"

    "I will try."

    Aytin wanted to argue that they didn''t need protecting. That they weren''t going to throw away the lives of the wildlings who were helping them. But then he remembered the lancers.

    "You hate us?"

    This time, she took the time to consider her words before answering. "No," she finally said. "I think you care about yourselves more than our tribe. You do not hold ill will towards us. You are on your own side. But I do not hate you for that."

    As much as he didn''t want to admit it, Attalee''s frank words struck home. Mostly because of how true they were.

    They mirrored the opinions of the Matriarchs, in many ways. Except those elders were more pragmatic, focused on the tribe over the individuals. They were willing to sacrifice a few for the greater good, as long as that sacrifice wasn''t too great.

    Attalee wasn''t. Not if she could help it. And if she had to, she was going to make sure it was the only possible way.

    He felt... dirty. Blackened. Even knowing that Xantha and her band had to answer for what they had done, to be stopped before they could do it again, he suddenly felt like they were going about it all wrong. But there didn''t seem to be any other options, either.

    "I will stay here to protect Ness and Rina and all the rest from whatever comes," Attalee continued when he didn''t reply. "But I am not fighting for a dragon who cannot protect himself."

    "Faelon will fight!" Aytin insisted, despite everything feeling an automatic need to come to the dragon''s defense.

    "He fought and he lost. Now he can''t fly. How can a dragon not fly?"

    He wanted to shout at her. She hadn''t been there. She didn''t understand. Couldn''t understand. But he didn''t know how to explain it. He didn''t have the words.

    So he just let out a long, hissing breath. "I know. And Faelon knows. He... it is very hard for him.

    "We do want to help," he added. "But... we need to do this. And we will fail with just us. The traitors will escape to kill others. Other dragons and their... their companions."

    "Maybe. But they never cared about our tribe. Not in a long, long time. Why should we care about them now?"

    After the reverence all of the other wildlings treated Faelon with, it was decidedly strange to hear Attalee talking like this. Even Matriarchs Vozdi and Onlo had maintained a certain amount of reverence when talking about Faelon. ''Although in hindsight, that might have been for my benefit.''

    "The traitors made their home here. They would have stayed here. What if they had found your tribe first? What if Cue had tried to serve an evil dragon?"

    The huntress furrowed her eye ridges. "That did not happen. But I see your point."

    "So you see why we have to stop them? And why we need your tribe''s help?"

    "I see why you think so."

    "But are we wrong?" he pressed.

    Apparently he was reaching the end of Attalee''s patience. "I already told you that I would fight with you, even if I will not fight for you."

    Aytin could have let it go at that point. It was clear that the huntress was an ally if not a friend. Mere words wouldn''t change that.

    A thought struck him, then. He had the bow he had taken from Juniper. The one he had carried throughout the trek to the cache, and used to kill the delerion. Whatever faults its previous owner had, it was an excellent weapon. Expertly made and well cared for.

    Aytin untied it from where it was fastened to his bag and extended it towards Attalee.

    She gave him a flat stare. "Are you trying to buy my loyalty?"

    "No. Well, maybe a little?" He gave a timid smile. When it slid off of the senior huntress like the rain off of her cloak, he pressed on. "I had to use it, but I am not good with it. You are a huntress. It makes sense for you to have it. More sense than me."

    They stood there like that for a dozen heartbeats. ''I''ve offended her,'' he realized, although not certain how. He just knew that she would fly off and that was the last that he would see of her.

    He was about to apologize and try to salvage whatever he could from the situation, when Attalee reached out a hand to accept the gift. And with the first genuine smile he had seen on her since they had met, she said, "Thank you."

 Chapter 34: Bright of Night

    The sun had set and the camp was settling down for the night. Ever since the storm blew through, it had been cooler. Not enough to make staying out impossible. Heavy clothes were still enough to keep the sentries alert. Still, no one would be out in the chill when they could be wrapped up in blankets instead.

    Which was why it was odd that Rina wasn¡¯t in their tent.

    Moving briskly helped, at least. Aytin strode purposefully through the camp, edges of his coat flapping slightly. He tucked his wings in tighter, though, and wished for something to cover them. A greatcoat or even just a big blanket.

    Some of the wildlings had said that in a month or two it might get cold enough for water to freeze. For someone born in the southern latitudes, that was hard to believe. The only ice he had ever seen had come from frost powder. Having it fall from the sky? That was just wrong.

    For now, the weather was at least livable. Even nice. During the day anyway. Moving the camp hadn¡¯t even been all that much of an ordeal.

    Without being forced to walk, Aytin and the majority of the wildlings had ranged ahead to prepare. They had found a thick grove of trees about a short flight away from the keep and behind a small hill. The ground underneath the canopy¡¯s protection now played host to a mixture of canvas tents and leather-lined lean-tos, including a particularly large construction that the wildlings had insisted on building for Faelon.

    The dragon had barely remarked on the shelter before collapsing in it just hours before. He had pushed himself hard to make the trek, only spending a single night camping in the forests. Plenty of food and an escort that knew the local skies had done a lot to speed the journey along. Even the language barrier hadn¡¯t been much of an issue.

    For that last, Aytin was especially thankful. He had only needed to speak to the dragon a few times during their trip, and each one had been brief. Faelon had spent most of the journey with only a few wildling scouts for company while his companion coordinated with their new allies. Getting the camp set up had been hard enough, but distributing the weapons turned out to be more of an ordeal than expected.

    The cache had started with six bows. Including the one looted from Juniper¡¯s remains and passed on to Attalee, that made seven composite bows total. He had distributed them among the huntresses, although he made certain that they understood only Rina and Attalee received theirs as gifts. The rest were property of the tribe.

    There weren¡¯t nearly as many crossbows. Plenty of ammunition for them, but most of them had probably been with the guards who died fighting the brigands. Only four were in the cache and those had prompted nearly as much interest as the regular bows. Or, they had after he used one to embed an iron-tipped bolt into a tree trunk.

    At close range, they were just as powerful as the bows given to the huntresses. And with the help of a cocking lever, almost anyone could use them. A huntress might be able to loose arrows far faster, but that didn¡¯t dissuade the males who coveted the weapons.

    In addition to the bows, everyone got some part of the bounty of steel inside of the cache. Most received knives and spearheads. A few wielded axes or hammers, tools repurposed into weapons of war.

    And while Aytin made it clear that these, too, belonged to the tribe, he also dropped hints that the brigands would be carrying steel weapons. Steel that would be free for the taking once the battle was over.

    Unfortunately, as the bringer of the weapons, he was also seen as the expert in their use. Even the huntresses came to him for advice for things like mounting their new broadheads or proper draw length on the composite bows.

    He gave what help he could. In fact, he surprised himself with the details he managed to dredge up from memories of training with Stonar and his own archery practice. The basic drills and weapons maintenance he had done that spring and summer two years back were especially useful. But too often, he just didn¡¯t have an answer.

    And if it wasn¡¯t questions about using the weapons, it was ones about where to site the camp? What kind of shelters to build? When the brigands would return? How to use the new carpentry tools? If they should have venison for dinner or hunt for wild boar instead? The never ending tide of questions was beginning to weigh on the very young dragonette.

    Still, he could have made time for Faelon. Or at least spent the night with the dragon. A flight to his camp wouldn¡¯t have strained Aytin¡¯s newly healed wings.

    No, distance or schedule wasn¡¯t the problem. It was Faelon¡¯s accusation of Rina manipulating him. Whether it was jealousy or bitterness or some vindictive streak he had never revealed before, it didn¡¯t matter. Aytin knew the truth.

    But every time he thought about the dragon, those words rose to the forefront of his mind.

    Avoiding his companion hadn¡¯t been hard. Not with working wings. And he and Rina had just so happened to pitch their tent at the edge of camp opposite to the massive awning being constructed for Faelon.

    They had shared it the night before. If the canvas walls had been too thin for anything more than sleeping, he found simply being so close to someone else comforting. Rina¡¯s slow breaths, her warmth beside him, the quiet beat of her heart. It was¡­ he really couldn¡¯t describe it.

    But now she was missing, and Aytin was starting to get¡­ not worried. The huntress could take care of herself. Much better than he could, for that matter. No, he was at most concerned, and maybe just a little annoyed. Which was why he was stalking around the camp when he should be asleep.

    A figure sat huddled near a low campfire, no doubt on watch. While she was bundled against the cold, her short, stocky figure gave away her identity.

    ¡°Hi Ness,¡± he said, softly so as not to wake anyone sleeping nearby. ¡°Have you seen Rina?¡±

    ¡°Hmm? Oh, hi Aytin!¡± She was just as quiet, but somehow her tone was bright. ¡°Yeah, she went out hunting with Verk and Drav.¡±

    ¡°Hunting? With Drav?¡± He was one of the supporters of Cue that he had insisted on including, but the wildlings had the same dynamics as the rest of the world as far as hunting was concerned. Males just didn¡¯t have the strength or stamina for it.

    ¡°Yeah. He¡¯s just going along to carry stuff,¡± Ness explained. ¡°It¡¯s a good night for it, so they shouldn¡¯t be gone much longer. You want to wait for them?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± There was plenty of room on the log, and neither one of them took up much space. He settled down and warmed his hands over the coals.

    It was a still night, and patches of stars shone through breaks in the canopy. If there had been any light, it really would have been perfect for hunting. As it was, the moon wasn¡¯t even half full. He¡¯d hesitate to even fly out there, in case he found a tree with his head or a wing.

    That made the trio¡¯s night hunt strange. ¡®Ness doesn¡¯t seem worried, though. Maybe they train for this? But we never had night hunts back home, I¡¯m pretty sure.¡®

    He noticed that the young huntress was staring at him. He cocked his head and flicked an ear in silent question.

    At the invitation, she ventured, ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± Her deference was surprising after how familiar they had gotten, but his position had shifted since returning with the volunteers. They hadn¡¯t had a chance to talk since then, either.

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Everyone else has, so why not you, too?¡± Then he winced as he realized how bitter he sounded. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It has been a busy day. Please, ask.¡±

    ¡°You and Dragon Faelon, what¡­ what¡¯s it like where you¡¯re from? Do you have more things like this?¡± She touched the new knife she wore on her belt.

    ¡°It¡¯s very different. And, yes, we do have a lot more things made of steel.¡±

    ¡°It must be so easy for you,¡± the young huntress sighed, wistfully.

    ¡°Easy? No, it isn¡¯t really easy.¡± Even as he said it, he remembered his struggles with simply surviving on this island. And he had to admit, being the son of a noble was a far stretch from toiling in the mines.

    ¡°I guess it is easier,¡± he admitted. ¡°But we have much to do.¡±

    ¡°How? With all of your tools and tents and clothes, what is there to do except sit around and tell stories all day?¡±

    ¡°Make all of those things, for one. A knife like that one,¡± he pointed to the one at her hip. ¡°It would take my older sister Suuie hours to make it. But that doesn¡¯t include all the time to dig up the iron, melt it into steel, and gather the fuel for the fire. Lots of work for just a knife.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± It was hard to tell in the dark, but he thought she might be looking at where Faelon slept.

    ¡°Did you think that all of this came from dragons?¡±

    ¡°That was what Companion Cue said.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± That explained a few things. And he would have to be careful about how he answered if he wanted to stay truthful without stepping on the shaman¡¯s tail.

    ¡°Dragon Faelon was given these things by dragonettes honoring him,¡± Aytin said, carefully. ¡°He did many things to help people before traveling here. But dragonettes made it all.¡±

    ¡°I did wonder why a Dragon would have so much he couldn¡¯t use. Like, why would he need a bow?¡±

    Aytin had a fleeting image of the enormous red drawing a bowstring back with his teeth, laminated bow staff pinched between two massive claws, and nearly burst out laughing. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he answered, once he was certain he could keep his voice steady. ¡°Dragons have other people to help them with things like that.¡±

    ¡°Dragons?¡± She latched onto that word. ¡°You know others? What are they like?¡±

    ¡°None as well as Dragon Faelon. I¡¯ve only met a few when they visited my home,¡± he explained.

    Ness still seemed fascinated. ¡°Why did they visit? Is your tribe important?¡±

    ¡®This entire conversation is one massive briar patch. I¡¯ve spoken to Rina about back home, but somehow we¡¯ve managed to avoid the subject of dragons.¡®

    ¡°We¡¯re a little important. That¡¯s why dragons come. We honor them, and they help us in return.¡±

    ¡°With Dragon Magic?¡±

    ¡°Yes. And other things.¡± When it was clear Ness was waiting for more, he elaborated. ¡°They bring things that we can¡¯t make on our own. And help us fly between islands.¡±

    ¡°You fly to other islands? More than one?¡± The young huntress¡¯s eyes went wide and her ears pricked. ¡°Wow.¡±

    Taking the opportunity her astonishment presented, Aytin asked, ¡°Can you tell me about this island? I¡¯ve only seen a little, and my home is very different.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? How is it different?¡±

    ¡®Gods, she¡¯s almost worse than Saza with all her questions.¡® He had to struggle not to sigh, but he was still just a little short when he said, ¡°It just is. But, how big is this island? How far to the northern edge?¡±

    ¡°Half a day¡¯s flight,¡± she said with a shrug. ¡°Less if I push. But it isn¡¯t part of our land.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± Aytin pressed.

    ¡°Other tribes live there.¡±

    ¡°Other tribes?¡± This was the first he had heard of other tribes of wildlings. ¡°Where? How many?¡±

    ¡°Uh, three or four? I don¡¯t know where, exactly. North and east? We only see each other at the midsummer conclave.¡±

    ¡°Which was months ago.¡± They were already past the solstice. ¡°Could you find them?¡±

    ¡°Maybe, with a few days of searching. But their tribes move more than ours.¡±

    Aytin grimaced. A few days of searching. Then negotiations, only this time without a cache of supplies as a bargaining chip. He might be lucky to get a handful of huntresses to help out of curiosity more than anything.

    Worse, they were almost out of weapons to arm them with. At first, the cache had been like a bottomless toybox, but Faelon hadn¡¯t been out to arm a Royal Guard garrison. He was a trader, only carrying his crew¡¯s weapons and whatever he might sell to the keeps along his route.

    And if he went off searching for reinforcements, the wildlings already committed to the cause would just be flying in circles.

    ¡°No chance of more help for Faelon, then,¡± he muttered.

    ¡°Oh. No, I guess not.¡± Ness was quiet, before her teeth flashed in the firelight. ¡°Dragon Faelon doesn¡¯t need more help, anyway. We¡¯re plenty! Especially with all of his gifts!¡± She brushed her knife, almost reverently.

    They had an edge in numbers and would definitely have surprise on their side. Whether that would be enough to make up for a dragon in the air remained to be seen. As it was, they would be on the knife¡¯s edge.

    But he smiled and nodded, all the same. ¡°Of course! More will just be easier.¡±

    ¡°Then we would have to share!¡± Ness¡¯s reply reminded him that this particular wildling was even younger than he was.

    ¡®Maybe Attalee is more right than she realizes?¡®

    The faint beating of wings forstalled any further conversation. Ness was up in seconds, spear in hand. Its new steel head was so polished that it caught the faint glow of the embers in the firepit.

    ¡°Hey, Ness. You caught watch tonight?¡±

    At the unseen female¡¯s voice, the young huntress visibly relaxed. ¡°Yeah, Verk. Hopefully not for too much longer, though.¡± She glanced up at the sliver of moon just visible through the trees. ¡°Any luck?¡±

    ¡°Plenty.¡± There were more wingbeats and thumps behind her as the rest of the hunting party landed. Aytin tossed some brush on the fire and as it flared up he could see that all three returning dragonettes were weighed down with heavy bundles. ¡°We found a herd of deer bedded down and took a buck. We might have gone for two if there were more of us, or Drav wasn¡¯t so lazy.¡±

    ¡°What does that mean?!¡± the wildling in question demanded.

    ¡°She¡¯s joking,¡± Rina assured him, walking up to the fire. Then she caught sight of Aytin. ¡°Oh, hey! I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d still be awake.¡±

    She stepped forward for a quick nuzzle, which he returned. ¡°I didn¡¯t know where you were.¡±

    ¡°I thought I told you that I was going hunting tonight?¡±

    He honestly couldn¡¯t remember her telling him that. ¡°Maybe? I was very busy.¡±

    ¡°Well, I brought you something.¡± Rina held up a bundle of fur, and it took a second for him to recognize it for a rabbit in the flickering firelight. ¡°You must be getting tired of deer. Sorry, venison.¡±

    ¡°Ha, ha,¡± he deadpanned. ¡°But thanks. I think I had some wild boar at the feast, but that was¡­ I guess that was three nights ago? It seems longer.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been busy,¡± she repeated. ¡°So I¡¯ll make us breakfast in the morning.¡± After a pause, she sheepishly asked, ¡°Could I borrow some salt?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Aytin replied, automatically. Then Faelon¡¯s question replayed unbidden though his head. ¡®Why you? What does she want?¡®

    He shook himself. ¡®I¡¯m being stupid. It¡¯s just some salt. Hells, of course I want salt on my food!¡®

    Still, the thought nagged at him as he extended a hand for the rabbit. ¡°I¡¯ll help clean it.¡±

    She passed him the kill and then went over to hang the venison from a nearby tree.

    He expected to find its neck broken from a snare, but it felt wet in his hands. Upon closer inspection, there was a neat hole at the base of the rabbit¡¯s neck. A perfect hit, difficult at the best of times.

    ¡°How did you kill it?¡±

    ¡°My new bow!¡± Suddenly realizing that most of the camp was asleep, Rina cut herself off. More quietly, she hissed,¡± It¡¯s amazing!¡±

    ¡°Sure, but it¡¯s just wood and horn. You still have to be able to see the rabbit to hit it.¡±

    Understanding dawned. ¡°Oooohhh. No, I can see in this.¡± She motioned to the night sky. ¡°It¡¯s my magic.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s why I¡¯m always getting pulled into these night hunts. Sometimes I wish I was born with some other talent,¡± Drav grumbled.

    All three huntresses snorted at that. Verk even gave him a little shove. ¡°You seem happy enough to take your share of the skins.¡±

    He recovered and shot her a dark look. ¡°Yeah, I just said sometimes.¡±

    ¡°When you¡¯re being lazy.¡±

    ¡°You caught me sleeping one time, Verk. One. Time. When are you going to drop it?¡±

    ¡°When it stops being funny. So never.¡± They all shared a giggle at his expense.

    ¡°Maybe you could have Aytin get Dragon Faelon to ask her to stop,¡± Ness suggested.

    It was obviously a joke, but Drav looked horrified at the suggestion. He was relieved when Aytin shook his head. ¡°This isn¡¯t a thing I want to get involved with. But,¡± and he added the last with an evil grin. ¡°If you want Faelon¡¯s help, you can just ask him yourself.¡±

    That was more than the other dragonette could take.

    ¡°I¡­ uh¡­ no. No!¡± Drav frantically shook his head. ¡°I, um, I think that Dragon Faelon¡­ well, he has to have better things to do than talk to me. Right? Not that I would-¡°

    Having just returned from hanging the venison, Rina clapped him on the back and interrupted his babbling. ¡°Then I guess you¡¯ll have to live with Verk¡¯s jokes, won¡¯t you?¡±

    That prompted another round of giggling, which only intensified at Drav¡¯s heartfelt sigh.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± she said, turning back to Aytin and giving the hapless male a reprieve. ¡°Yes, the three of us can all see in the dark. It makes it easy to find deer and pigs, if you know what to look for. They are all out at night, not sleeping or hiding.¡±

    Something about that bugged him. ¡°Does anyone else have the same magic?¡±

    ¡°Sunny,¡± she replied, naming one of the other huntresses in their contingent. ¡°And a few others in the tribe who aren¡¯t here. It¡¯s a common one.¡±

    Aytin knew a few dragonettes with the same ability, but it wasn¡¯t nearly so common back home. He also made a note to try and find out what the other wildlings could do, even if he had to throw around his weight as Faelon¡¯s Companion.

    But in the meantime, having so many dragonettes who could see in the dark of night gave him the beginnings of an idea.

 Chapter 35: Ashes Turn To Rain

    "What''s wrong?"

    Breakfast had been delicious. At least, Aytin was pretty sure it had been. The rabbit was picked clean, with nothing but bones left. He couldn''t actually remember eating any, though. His attention was elsewhere.

    "Tin?"

    "Huh?" He blinked and focused on his girlfriend. They were sitting at a small fire, a little apart from the rest of the camp.

    "You''ve been staring off at nothing. And, you only said a handful of words all morning. Did I do something wrong?"

    "No, no." He forced himself to smile, reassuringly. "I''m just... thinking."

    Rina cocked her head in mock confusion. "No, really? I couldn''t tell."

    That drew a small snort and a flick of his ears. "Were you always like this? Or did I teach you?"

    "Ask Attalee. She''s been around since I was a hatchling and knows all the stories. She is talking to you again, yes?"

    "Yeah." The senior huntress wasn''t avoiding him anymore. Not since she made her priorities clear. It wasn''t exactly a friendly relationship, but they understood one another. "I''ll ask her later."

    "Good." She gave a firm nod. "Now, what''s wrong?"

    Aytin let a breath hiss through his teeth. "It''s Faelon."

    Her expression sobered. "We''ve noticed that the two of you..." she trailed off, looking uncomfortable as she hunted for the right way to put it. "I mean, it was hard not to see that something might be wrong. Did... did we offend him?"

    "No. No, it''s nothing your tribe did." He could put an end to that rumor at least.

    Rina relaxed at that. "We thought he might be angry that there were so few volunteers."

    "Don''t worry. He understands that the tribe can''t send everyone."

    "Okay. Then what is Dragon Faelon upset about?"

    As much as Aytin''s grasp of the wildling tongue had improved in recent days, he still struggled with complex subjects. Rather than try, he just answered, "Me. Mostly."

    Her eyes widened and ears stiffened. "But you are his Companion!"

    "Yeah, and don''t I know it." Aytin had to struggle to keep the bitterness from coloring his words. "We disagree on something. Very strongly."

    "I just thought that you and him... that a Companion had to do as their Dragon said."

    "He is not my..." Aytin wanted to say master, but the word wasn''t coming to him and he didn''t feel like dealing with the back and forth. Or the theological implications it might come with. "Do you always agree with the Matriarchs?"

    Rina shook her head. "No. But I do what I''m ordered, even if I''m not happy."

    "No matter what?"

    She opened her mouth, closed it, and then narrowed her eyes. "What did Faelon tell you to do?"

    The fire cracked and popped and nearby the camp was full of the sound of wildlings finishing morning chores. They would be expecting instructions soon. Aytin wasn''t sure what he would tell them. For that, he would need to talk to Faelon. And before that...

    "He wants me to keep away from you."

    Rina looked blank for a moment, and then her mouth dropped open like he had just slapped her across the face. "Dragon Faelon... hates me?"

    "No! No, not exactly. But he thinks you''re trying to... to make me do things that you want."

    "I''m not!"

    "Of course I know that! But Faelon wouldn''t listen! He seemed to think that you were only getting close to me because I was his Companion. And because we had so many things for gifts."

    "That''s... no."

    But this time her protest wasn''t quite as forceful, and Aytin narrowed his eyes. "Faelon is wrong, isn''t he?"

    "He is. He is wrong now."

    Aytin felt his stomach congealing into a frozen lump, like he had just swallowed a mouthful of frost powder. "And before now?"

    Right then, Rina looked like a rat caught in a trap. She twisted and her eyes darted to look at anything except Aytin. But an invisible force held her rooted to the spot.

    Finally, in a small voice, she answered, "It''s not far from how it started."

    "It''s not." In contrast, Aytin''s voice was level. Calm. Emotionless.

    "We didn''t want you to leave! And... and I thought you were... you were cute." She offered a weak smile. It died when he didn''t return it.

    "Please, believe me. It''s all real! I didn''t expect it... You don''t think I''d... that I''d go this far just because I was ordered?"

    "You said you''d do what you were told."

    "Not that. Never that!" She shook her head frantically. "You''re more than that to me! Much, much more!"

    "Fuck." The curse wasn''t in wildling, but Aytin had no doubt that Rina could understand him. "Just... fuck it all."

    "Aytin." She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. And when he didn''t stop her, she stood and hugged him. Aytin didn''t fight, but he didn''t join in, either. He just sat there, staring into the distance like some sort of fleshy statue.

    Slowly, he extracted himself from the embrace. Rina looked on the verge of tears, but he just shook his head.

    "I... I can''t right now."

    She just looked at him in confusion, and he realized that he was still speaking in his native language. He repeated himself, and Rina cringed.

    "Please! They just wanted me to be your friend! Is that wrong? And... and..." Her voice caught before she whispered, "I think I love you."

    It wasn''t a familiar word, but he could figure out what she meant. And the huntress looked utterly miserable. Her ears drooped and her eyes were downcast with tears at their corners.

    But Aytin couldn''t bring himself to go on. "No. Maybe, but... not now."

    He turned around and stomped away into the woods.

    "Aytin!"

    But her call went ignored. And, thankfully, she didn''t follow. He didn''t know what he would have done if she had.

    ''Probably broken down crying,'' he thought, numbly. ''And wouldn''t that have been perfect?''

    The forest around him was incongruously cheerful. A bright sun shone around a scattering of high clouds, casting dappled patterns through the trees. Birds chirped and a few animals rustled in the brush, hunting for fallen nuts.

    No one bothered him. One wildling - a sentry or just someone out doing camp chores - waved as he passed, but she didn''t challenge him. ''Being the Companion has its advantages after all.''

    Despite everything, his path wasn''t random. He managed to keep enough sense to not wander off into the forest alone. Instead, he made a wide arc, and eventually ended up on the far side of the camp.

    Faelon was watching as the dragonette emerged from the brush and walked right up to stare him in the face.

    "Fuck you," Aytin said, his casual tone a wall straining against the emotions inside of him. "Fuck you, but... but you were right. About Rina."

    The wall broke, and Aytin hid his face to keep the tears from showing. With teeth clenched, he wiped his eyes roughly against his shirt before looking up.

    He expected self-satisfaction. An "I told you so." But there wasn''t a hint of smugness on the dragon''s expression as he eased down to the dragonette''s level. Only sympathy.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    "What happened?"

    There wasn''t much to explain. It still took several minutes of starts and stops for Aytin to tell the whole story. Every so often, the mess of feelings inside of him would boil over and he would have to stop, looking away in shame.

    Faelon was silent throughout the entire story. Not judging, just listening. That made it easier. A bit, at least. It wasn''t until the end that he finally spoke. "I am sorry for you."

    "Are you?" There weren''t any tears left in the dragonette''s eyes. He felt numb. Like he was gliding on a breeze.

    "I am." The massive face worked in a moment. "I have seen many go through this over the years. It is never easy."

    "Yeah?"

    "You are young. You will learn."

    "We''ll see." Aytin sighed, long and deep. "I think she really does care for me."

    Faelon fluttered his remaining wing in a draconic shrug. "What if she does?"

    "I think I still care for her."

    They were both silent for a long time after that. Not far away, a handful of wildlings watched the exchange. But there was no way they could understand the conversation.

    Eventually, Faelon blew a snort of air from his nostrils. "I would advise you to move on. But I think you have guessed that already."

    "It wasn''t hard."

    "I will not stop you if you decide otherwise. That did not work well last time."

    Aytin winced. "Faelon, I''m sorry. I should have-"

    "No," the dragon insisted. "The mistake was mine. I did not realize how much you cared for the wildling. I should have seen it, and been less blunt."

    "And I should have listened."

    "That would have helped." There was a hint of gentle teasing in the words, and the edges of Aytin''s lips twitched in response. "Nonetheless, it sounds as if she may be sincere in her feelings for you. And it may be that she is not as self-serving as I thought."

    "Maybe." He wasn''t sure. Not really.

    "Then take some time. A day. More would be better, but..."

    "But we don''t exactly have a lot of time," Aytin finished.

    "We do not. And if you need company during that time, at least you are aware of the consequences."

    "Ha. Consequences." The laugh was bitter, without any real humor behind it. "Not the normal sort of consequences when it comes to a girl. A little late in the year for that, anyway."

    Aytin scrunched his eyes and messaged the base of his horns. "I still don''t know how I feel about it all. Part of me thinks I''m being an idiot. Like I overreacted. But I don''t know."

    "Wait a day," Faelon repeated. "Do not make any decisions now. Let your head clear, and then consider what happened. And what you want to do next."

    "I will. Thanks, Faelon." He reached out and put a hand on the dragon''s bulk. "And, again. I''m sorry."

    "I would be a fool not to forgive you." His tone turned wry as he continued, "After all, who would I talk to if I did not? The past few days have not been easy."

    "Yeah. I bet." The dragon had complained about just one night alone. And then Aytin had abandoned him once again. A rush of guilt hit him and he squirmed uncomfortably, hunting for something to say before he remembered all of his plans.

    "I, uh, did want to talk to you. About something else, I mean."

    "Oh?"

    "At least four of the wildlings can see in the dark. The ones here, not just in the tribe."

    Faelon dipped his head in understanding. "Not an uncommon magic. I believe that Vin had it as well."

    Aytin remembered the guard, a younger woman who had accompanied Bush''s singing with her flute all those weeks ago.

    "But with so many, we could fight Xantha at night."

    "They would have sentries, and I would not be surprised if at least one of their number could see in the dark as well. Or more."

    "No, I mean, we ambush them." Aytin was starting to regain some of his enthusiasm. He had laid awake, going through scenarios and fleshing out the bones of his idea.

    "We start a fire," he explained. "A big fire. One they can see from the keep. We''ll be waiting."

    "They will send scouts, not their dragon."

    "And if we see them coming, we disappear into the woods. We don''t fight them without Kalthor there."

    "I see. It could work. But..." The dragon paused, and then seemed to choose his next words carefully. "It gambles much on the brigands doing what we want them to. They may choose a different option."

    "Like what?"

    "If those scouts find a big fire with no one there, would that not be just a little suspicious?"

    "Okay, that''s fair. But-"

    "And I cannot easily disappear into the woods," Faelon pressed. "Or do so without leaving a trace. If we do not attack, they would know a dragon was there. At best."

    Aytin sighed. "I get it. It was a bad idea."

    But the dragon twitched his head in negation. "No. It is the bones of an idea." He was quiet for a moment, save for a soft hum in his massive chest. "You are certain that they will investigate a fire?"

    This was something that Aytin had considered long and hard. "I think so. My parents won''t have paid the ransom - I''m sure of that - and they''ll come back to me and Nyx and Zan and the Sisters missing. They''ll have to think that they found your body and escaped with the cargo. Probably tossed me over the side of the island when they did."

    "Then why chase down fires?"

    "Desperation. Maybe whoever''s there knows what happened while they were gone. Or has some idea of where you crashed, since there''s no way four dragonettes could have gotten much of the cargo off of the island. Or maybe they just have something to steal? Some merchant blown off course."

    That earned him a nod. "Fair. You did spend some time among them. You have an idea of how they think."

    "Yeah. Most of them are in it for the gold. And they won''t have a single copper to show for this. They''ll be ready to riot. We may just be able to watch as they tear themselves apart."

    "They will not." Faelon sounded certain of that. "Whichever side their dragon supports, that is the one the others will follow."

    "Good point."

    "Regardless of who is in charge, they will still be cautious. That likely means scouts and someone high above to bolt if anything happens."

    "Or all of them fly out to it?"

    "Or that, unlikely as it seems."

    Aytin shook his head. "I actually think they might. They have to go investigate a fire-'''' He was cut off by a hard look from Faelon and, after a moment''s pause, he nodded. "They''ll probably investigate a fire. Definitely the next day. But they''re going to be at least a little nervous. Wouldn''t they go in force?"

    "Perhaps. And criminals are aggressive when they believe they hold an advantage. But after so many setbacks, would they truly believe that? If we guess wrong and they do not send the blue, surprise will be lost."

    "So no matter what, you need to be where Kalthor is. Which... is the keep."

    "You have another idea?" Faelon asked when the dragonette didn''t continue. Aytin just held up a hand in response.

    When his thoughts proved insufficient, he knelt down and swept a section of ground free of dead leaves and pine needles. With a stick, he started sketching.

    Actually, sketching was an exaggeration. Faelon turned his head this way and that, trying to make sense of the mess of lines and dots and squiggles. But it helped Aytin center his thoughts, and after a minute he straightened and dusted off his hands.

    "Okay, so I haven''t thought this all the way through, but here''s what I have.

    "You hide as close to the keep as possible. We can''t actually hide you in it because we don''t know when the brigands will be showing up, but we can get you to that thicket where the creek flows out of the clearing. With a few wildlings and at least one who can see in the dark.

    "The rest of the wildlings set up a few campfires and make sure they can be seen from the keep." He used his stick as a pointer, and tapped a drawing that might charitably represent rising smoke. "Both of our groups will be able to see what they send.

    "If Kalthor stays, the wildlings at the fires ambush the party. Then they fly back in their place. Maybe come in with firepots to drop on the keep." The pointer moved to indicate a big triangular mark. "As soon as your group sees them coming, you start running for the keep. You think you can cross the fields in a couple of minutes?"

    Faelon considered the question and then flexed his massive legs. "Maybe even a little faster than that, now that I have had time to heal."

    "Well, either way, their attention will be on the returning scouting party. Hopefully, at least. And you can get there before Kalthor has a chance to take flight."

    Aytin paused, inviting comments.

    "It requires much to go right," Faelon eventually said. Before his words could sink in, he added, "But it could be workable. Most worrying is that we would be depending on their dragon being slow to react. Unlikely if they are on guard. But... I recall you said that there were wildlings willing to act as lancers?"

    "Uh, probably." That was also a part of his plan. Just one he had hoped not to have to use. The idea still made him uncomfortable.

    But Faelon didn''t have that hangup. "They could be useful under the circumstances. Now, what would you do if they sent out their dragon?"

    "We take the keep." A raised eye ridge showed that explanation was insufficient, so he explained, "They won''t have left more than a few guards. Maybe no one. The wildlings at the fires will scatter and take the long way to the keep as soon as they see Kalthor coming." He made a wide arc from the smoke squiggles to the central triangle. "Meanwhile, the ones with you ambush any stragglers. When Kalthor comes back, you give him a face full of dragon fire."

    "Again, much must go in our favor. And they will be cautious upon discovering the camp empty. But... it may be workable." Faelon snorted, earning a dirty look as the puff of air sent leaves blowing across the sketch. "And if they remain in the keep we try again another night?"

    Aytin nodded. "When they investigate during the day, they''ll just find a campsite. Hopefully that''s enough to make them curious enough to fly out the next night."

    "''Hopefully'' is not an encouraging word to apply to a plan," Faelon remarked.

    "Well, then hopefully you have a better idea?"

    "No. Perhaps some additions. And we may yet come up with something better. For now, this provides a chance at success. But..."

    When the dragon didn''t immediately continue, Aytin raised an eyeridge. "What?"

    "Should things go against us, and they realize I am here before we are ready, I want you to leave me."

    "Faelon-"

    But he was insistent. "Go with the wildlings. Hide. Do not throw your life away."

    Aytin shook his head, hard. "We already talked about this. I''m not leaving you."

    "And what about them?" A flick of the dragon''s snout indicated the encamped wildlings. "They will follow us into disaster. Will you let them?"

    "That- no, I... I..." Aytin glared at his companion.

    Faelon met the glare, and shook his head gently. "If the time comes, you will make the right decision. Live."

    But the dragonette stood firm under that baleful gaze. "I''d rather not have to make that decision,"

    "As would I."

    "Then maybe we should try to keep from having to." Aytin''s words rang with finality and, after a moment, Faelon gave a small nod. "Now, you said you had some ideas?"

    As the two started discussing details, Aytin was almost able to forget Rina and the roiling pit of emotions she had left deep inside of him.

 Chapter 36: Dirty Wings

    Aytin ushered three wildlings towards the waiting Faelon. Khrik, Drav, and a female by the name of Nali. Khrik, of course, had spoken in support of the dragon at the feast, and the other two had stood with him. That was why they were here, after all.

    Lancers had to be willing to die. It took a special kind of person to sign up for a role knowing that eventually it would lead to their death. Some did it for the pay and prestige, and they lived well up until the time they were called on to do their duty. Others did it for more selfless reasons, protecting friends and family and the kingdom. A few knew, absolutely knew, that they would survive, regardless of the danger they faced.

    ''I wonder which my father was?'' No one ever mentioned why the Bloodhorn had become a lancer. From all the stories, it was probably the last group. After all, he was one of the few to retire.

    But whether or not these three would be willing to make that sacrifice, he wasn''t sure. Khrik had certainly seemed passionate during the feast, and none of them had given any sign that they felt otherwise since volunteering.

    Their expressions had been nothing but wide eyes and slack jaws when he told them Faelon wanted to meet with them. The dragon had remained aloof, in no small part due to the friction between him and Aytin. Not being able to speak the language made interaction difficult. But that same distance was also a tool. An aura of mystery, only accessible to Faelon''s Companion. And now, to the three of them as well.

    They were attracting notice as they walked towards the edge of camp. A half-dozen sets of eyes followed them as they passed, and Aytin had to work hard to keep his expression neutral.

    He would much rather have still been going around the group, finding out all the different magical abilities the wildlings had.

    It was a bit of a mixed bag with most falling into some category of perception or physical enhancement. Better senses, bursts of strength, improved stamina. There was a minor healer who could deal with cuts and bruises. Khrik, it turned out, could shape the winds around him to fly nearly as fast as a huntress in a sprint.

    A few others had more unusual abilities. Sadly, none that would be exceptionally useful under the circumstances. They were things like Okoni being able to sense imperfections in materials that she touched. Powerful, but unsuited to a battle.

    He hadn''t managed to account for every wildling''s magic. Some of them were out on hunts or relaying messages to the tribe.

    And when he had asked Ness, her response had been cryptic. Given her age, Aytin had expected her to still be figuring out her magic. Instead, she had just smiled and told him that she would show him later.

    It had all been a distraction, though. From many things. But especially from this particular meeting. And with Faelon watching as the quartet approached, he couldn''t back out.

    "Welcome."

    The dragon had nothing like Aytin''s grasp of the wildling tongue, but he had learned a few simple words and phrases.

    All three of the wildlings immediately bowed low, only rising after a rumbled, "Up."

    He glanced towards his ''Companion,'' who took a deep breath.

    "Dragon Faelon wanted to thank you for volunteering to help him in this battle."

    The trio glanced from him to the dragon and then to each other. Even if they were all too nervous to voice it, the question in their minds was clear. "Why us?"

    "He also..." Aytin hesitated, before pressing on. "He needed to ask you - to ask, not demand - that you do something. Something very dangerous."

    "What does Dragon Faelon need?" Khrik asked, after getting nods from his comrades.

    Instead of answering directly, Aytin picked up a long spear and a rough rope harness. "Where I am from, sometimes we must fight evil dragons. Sometimes without another dragon to help."

    He shrugged into the rope harness - just a basic criss-cross, really - being careful to not get it caught on his wings. Once snugged up, it was braced against both his shoulders and wing roots.

    "The people who fight dragons are very brave. Not only because they are fighting dragons, but because of how they do it."

    Hanging from the right side of the harness, there was a leather cup. It dangled at waist level, and Aytin stuck the butt of the spear into it, then leaned the shaft vertically against his chest. It stayed in position without any effort.

    "They fly as fast as they can, to slam a long spear into the evil dragon. But you know dragons are strong and fast. If they go slow, they don''t hit. Or the dragon burns them. Or the spear doesn''t go in." He stepped over and tapped Faelon''s scales for emphasis.

    "But if they do not go slow, it is like closing their wings and flying into the ground."

    None of the wildlings were stupid. They could see exactly what he was suggesting.

    "Dragon Faelon needs us...?" Khrik motioned to the makeshift lance and Aytin nodded.

    "Yes. He does not need you to do this. Only asks."

    In truth, their plan could succeed without lancers. Maybe. If everything went right.

    "We may not need you for this," Aytin added. "Dragon Faelon can defeat the traitor dragon if he catches it. Or if others can catch it with pots of Dragon fire magic, that might cripple its wings. But if not... this..."

    Aytin trailed off, unable to continue. He was about to tell the wildlings that they could give him an answer later when Drav took a half step forward.

    "I would be honored to do as Dragon Faelon needs."

    Nali and Khrik were only a heartbeat behind him, both voicing their support.

    "What did they say?"

    Aytin glanced back towards Faelon. The dragon could tell that something had happened, but not exactly what.

    "They agreed," he said, feeling slightly numb.

    "That is very good."

    Before Faelon could go on to thank the wildlings, Aytin held up a hand. "Wait. I want to ask them something." To the trio, he said, "Dragon Faelon thought this would be harder for you. He thought that it would take more time. If you say you will do this, he needs to know that you will. He needs to know why you will do this?"

    Khrik cocked his head in confusion. "Because he is a Dragon."

    "But why does that mean you will do this?"

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    The wildling scratched the base of his horn in thought. Like most of the tribe, his horns curled straight back, almost flush with his head.

    Finally, Khrik nodded slightly. "Dragons are the guards of all there is. They guard what comes after." He motioned upwards, to where the blinking god gates would be visible in the night sky. "How could we not help?

    "The-" Drav used a word that Aytin hadn''t heard before, but sounded vaguely like "make". "They come from the Makers. Their children. The Makers put them here as their speakers."

    Nali didn''t add anything, just nodded along with the other two as she looked up at Faelon.

    "And... you''re okay with fighting another dragon?"

    "The Makers also made the darklings," Khrik explained. "They fought each other. Companion Cue says that we must decide good and evil for ourselves and choose which one we will help. To give everything to help one..." He made another bow towards Faelon. "There is no better way to make our decision known."

    That answered some questions that Aytin had been afraid of asking, for fear of revealing his ignorance. It was also a theological mess that he hoped the church never found out about. Much less, the inquisition.

    "What did you ask them?" Faelon asked when everyone was silent for a handful of heartbeats.

    "I''ll tell you later," Aytin replied. "But, they seem willing. Go ahead."

    The dragon nodded slightly, and spoke to the new lancers. "I thank you for your courage." It was one of a few lines that he had memorized with Aytin''s coaching and he delivered it in rough if recognizable wildling.

    Aytin held out the makeshift lance to Khrik as the nominal leader of the three, then shrugged out of the harness. "You will need to make more of these," he said, offering two more steel spearheads to the group. "If you need to make changes, do it. In my home, we make these differently."

    "Why make it this way, then?" the wildling asked as he accepted the gear.

    "The spear needs support. To push with all your speed. We make a spear that sits here." He tapped his shoulder. "It isn''t straight. Making that takes time and things we don''t have."

    Making a copy of his father''s lance would have been difficult, even if he knew its every detail. Aytin had spent long hours staring at it where it was mounted to the armory wall. With the way the crosspiece slotted through the widened shaft, it would have been difficult to build without time and tools. Which was why he was glad Faelon had suggested this alternative.

    "Find me once you finish. I will show you how to use it." In this case, it was actually something that he knew how to teach. Out of either inspiration or weakness, he added, "My father trained to do this. He was a lancer." Aytin used his own word for the term.

    "Did he...?" Drav began, and Aytin shook his head.

    "He fought evil all his life, but he was never called to fight a dragon. It was darklings that killed him, and he died fighting an army of them. He was called the Bloodhorn." Aytin tapped the little jog in his horn for emphasis.

    The wildlings all bobbed their heads, wide eyed.

    "A great warrior," Khrik said. "It''s no wonder you became Dragon Faelon''s Companion."

    "Yes," Aytin agreed, once more feeling uncomfortable. "Now, I need to speak to Faelon, and you-"

    "Of course, Companion." All three wildlings gave them both deep bows before returning to the camp.

    "You were not happy about that," Faelon reflected once they were alone.

    Aytin sighed, then slumped down with his back against the massive awning. "No. Not really."

    "It is necessary."

    "I know."

    "If the time comes, will you be able to order them to attack?"

    Aytin rested his head in his hands and stared off into the forest. "I think so?"

    "You do not sound sure."

    "If we''re all going to die otherwise, yeah. Yeah I will." He looked up and glared at the dragon. "But I know these people. Maybe not well, but I know them. How would you have felt ordering one of your crew to grab a lance and charge a dragon?"

    "A fair point. I am sorry for making you go through this." Faelon inclined his head with the words.

    "No." The single word dripped with bone deep exhaustion. "No, don''t be sorry. It was my idea. But... thanks."

    They sat there for a few minutes, watching the bustle around the camp. A few wildlings were training, moving their spears in some of the simple drills that Aytin had shown them or sparring against each other. The ones with any experience fletching were busy making arrows for the new bows. And there were always camp chores to be done.

    "What did you ask them?"

    "Huh?" Aytin had been staring at nothing in particular, mind deliberately blanked. He struggled to catch back up.

    "At the end, you asked the wildlings something. What?"

    "Oh." He explained the conversation, and what he had learned about the wildling beliefs.

    Afterward, Faelon bobbed his head. "A common enough superstition. I have heard of dragons as messengers from the gods as well. It comes from having the stamina to travel between islands, bringing goods from far off lands."

    "You''re okay with it? You''ll be here for a long, long time, after all."

    The dragon snorted. "I will worry about that if I survive."

    "Okay. I''ll talk to you about it again when this is all over."

    "Fair. And then we can discuss how to deal with shamans and matriarchs and the church." Faelon glanced over his companion''s shoulder and said, "You should go. It looks as if Attalee and Ness are waiting for you."

    Sure enough, the pair of huntresses were standing in the camp, not far off. The way both of them jerked when he turned to look made it clear that their presence was in no way coincidence.

    "I suppose I should go over and see what they want." Aytin stood and stretched, once again savoring wings that didn''t scream in pain with every motion. "I''ll be back tonight."

    "And I will see you then." Faelon settled down, either to nap or think or just look off into the forest.

    Sure enough, the pair waved at him as he approached. "Hey Aytin!"

    "Hi Ness. Attalee." He nodded to each in turn. He was thankful that the older huntress had warmed up slightly, even if she wasn''t nearly as enthusiastic as her younger counterpart.

    "You wanted to see my magic, right?"

    "Yeah, you didn''t have time earlier?"

    She nodded. "I had to go on a hunt. But that''s over. And Attalee here wanted to know if she could join us. Just for a short flight. Not much further than the last camp."

    "Uh, sure. That''s fine." He couldn''t think of what they would need to fly that far for, but he had little else to do. The wildlings didn''t need any more half-remembered training and the camp seemed to be running itself.

    A thought occurred to him. "Oh, Attalee, I didn''t see you before you went off on your hunt and I''ve asked almost everyone else. What exactly is your magic?"

    Attalee frowned slightly. "It''s hard to explain."

    "Just show him," Ness said.

    "Hmm..." The senior huntress scanned around, and then very deliberately pointed to a pinecone a few steps away. "Pick that up."

    Without any reason not to, Aytin complied. It seemed normal enough. He looked a question back at the huntresses, but Attalee only pointed a finger over one shoulder. "Hide it somewhere back there. Somewhere that I can''t see it."

    Doing as he was told, Aytin walked to the edge of camp. A young tree had a fork just above head level. He wedged the pinecone into it, before returning to the waiting pair.

    "Alright. What now?"

    Attalee turned. There were dozens of identical pinecones scattered on the ground nearby, but she strode unerringly towards the one he had hidden. Plucking it from its hiding place, she tossed it back to the surprised dragonette.

    "How did you do that?"

    "I marked it," she said, simply.

    "It''s impossible to hide from her once she''s done it," Ness piped in. "Only one thing at a time, though."

    "Ah. Useful for hunting then?"

    Attalee nodded. "And finding arrows in the brush."

    It was a talent that fit the huntress well. And one he could see being particularly useful in the battle to come.

    "Okay, are you done yet?" Ness butted in. "Are you two ready to fly?"

    They shared a look and Aytin shrugged. "Sure, I''m re-"

    Before he finished, the young huntress was already getting a running start and pumping her wings for all they were worth. She soared up, angling her way through a gap in the trees before disappearing into the sliver of sky above.

    He looked back to Attalee, who gave him a small smile and gestured upwards. "After you."

 Chapter 37: Take My Hand

    They flew vaguely towards the village. Having only been there once it was hard for Aytin to tell.

    That would have been a longer flight than he wanted to make. His wings were mostly finished healing, but the muscles supporting them had atrophied over the weeks without use. Thankfully, the huntresses were setting a relaxed pace, and Ness had assured him that their destination wouldn''t be far.

    They had only just passed the keep off to their right when Attalee called out over the wind, "We wanted to talk to you about Rina."

    "Ah."

    In truth, Aytin had been trying not to think about her. His emotions had calmed since the night before, but they were like a bad tooth; fine when he could forget they existed, but painful as soon as he probed them.

    "She told us about what happened."

    "Yeah?"

    They weren''t far from camp. He could always turn around. There wasn''t anything they could do to stop him.

    But, maybe like a bad tooth, he couldn''t keep ignoring the pain. Maybe he should face it, accept it, so that something new could grow out of the hole it left behind.

    Attalee veered over, so she was just off to his side. Ness followed her, flying a little above and ahead. And conveniently avoiding any implications that they were trying to box him in.

    "She cares for you," the older huntress said, as softly as the wind would allow.

    He didn''t reply. His eyes were fixed on the horizon.

    "This is my fault. I told her that she should get close to you. If you need someone to be angry at, you should be angry at me. Not her."

    This time, he looked at Attalee. The huntress sounded sincere, and she was staring back intently.

    "Why?" He barely managed to choke the word out. He didn''t trust himself to say more than that.

    "You were powerful. You had steel. Food. You traveled with a dragon. We thought-"

    "No!" Aytin shook his head violently and the wind tore tears from the corners of his eyes. "Why shouldn''t I blame Rina?!"

    "Because I only told her to be friendly. Nothing else. Everything that came after was her decision."

    "Of course it was! There can''t have been any other reason that she would want to get close to me!" He practically snarled at the end, his emotions settling on anger.

    "You know that she isn''t like that."

    "Do I?"

    "Yes." Attalee''s voice was firm. "Rina isn''t the kind of person who would mate for power or gifts."

    "You would be saying the same thing to me if she was."

    "Really?"

    Aytin realized he was almost panting with exertion. He had been flapping harder and harder while the huntresses matched him beat for beat. It took an effort of will to hold his wings steady and glide for a few moments.

    "Fuck, I don''t know. Faelon was right. I haven''t even been able to talk to any of you for more than a week. I don''t really know any of you."

    "I know Rina," Ness called out from ahead. "She wouldn''t fall in love with things."

    "She would have taken a mate years ago if she would," Attalee agreed. "Huntresses have lots of options."

    Aytin didn''t respond, focusing on the rhythm of his wings.

    "Has she ever done anything to make you think she wants you for what you have?"

    "Are we actually going to see Ness''s magic or was that a lie?" Aytin snapped.

    "We''re almost there," Ness insisted. "But answer her question."

    He growled in frustration. Mostly because he couldn''t answer her. Not in the way he wanted to.

    "No. Not yet."

    "Then just think about that," Attalee told him. "You do know Rina. Remember that."

    "Fine."

    Thankfully, the huntresses didn''t push any further. Although that might have been as much because they had arrived at their destination as they were done with the conversation.

    Their gentle descent angled towards a wide clearing in the forest. Judging by the blackened tree trunks among the tall grass, it was the remnants of a wildfire from the not too distant past.

    As soon as they landed, Ness produced a small sack from her pack and handed it to Aytin. It was heavy and... wet?

    "What is this?" His irritation was temporarily replaced with confusion. The white of his fingers was stained red and a quick sniff confirmed it to be animal blood.

    "Just hold onto it. And be ready."

    "For what?"

    But the young huntress was already disappearing into the brush.

    When he looked back towards Attalee, the older huntress said nothing. She just shook her head with a knowing smile.

    That left him alone with his thoughts. A very dangerous place to be, all things considered.

    At least his anger had cooled somewhat.

    ''Was I being stupid? Paranoid?'' Another thought struck him and he winced. ''Did I mess this all up?''

    He didn''t get a chance to answer his own question as a rustling in the forest drew his attention.

    "Alright, Aytin," he heard Ness call. "Get ready!"

    "Get ready?" There were steps behind him and he turned to see Attalee had retreated several paces. "What?"

    She just pointed back the other way. When he looked back, he caught movement.

    At first, he mistook it for a shadow, or maybe a bush waving in the breeze. But there wasn''t any wind to speak of among the trees. The dark shape crept forward, the dark green coloring of its low-slung form camouflaging it among the undergrowth.

    Aytin instinctively reached for his bow, only to come up empty handed. Too late, he remembered that he had given it to Attalee.

    ''Attalee!''

    But the huntress was a dozen paces back, leaning against a tree trunk and watching with apparent curiosity.

    A growling hiss filled the air and the monster''s green eyes flashed in the sunlight. It crouched, ready to pounce.

    "Give him the treat!"

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Ness''s shout reminded him of the bag in his left hand. Without thinking, he reached into the bag and pulled out a great big chunk of meat. A deer''s heart, judging from the quick look he got before he tossed it at the beast.

    An emerald flash intercepted the meat before it could touch the ground. The monster had snapped it out of midair and was already tearing bloody chunks out of it.

    "Hey, he likes you," Ness called out brightly as she emerged from the forest.

    "Tha- that''s a nauliker!" Coming from a southern island, he''d never seen one before. It fit the descriptions, though.

    A little under waist height at the shoulder, with ridged scales from flattened forehead all the way back along its whip-like tail. The beast had six legs. Or it did once. This one was missing its front left limb. But the rest all had more lines of thick scale plates and ended in wicked claws and backward swept spikes at the ankles.

    The nauliker snapped up another bite of meat with a pleased hiss and its long fangs glistened in the sunlight. Fangs that could pump a victim full of a nasty, caustic poison.

    And Ness walked over and crouched down to scratch its neck, deftly avoiding the patches of dark green spines that grew irregularly across the parts of its hide not covered by scales. Instead of biting her hand off, it let out a deep rumble of pleasure and leaned into the touch. Almost like some sort of tame pet!

    "His name is Stumpy. Because of the leg." Ness gestured towards the stump with casual indifference. "I found him last year and brought him food until he could hunt again."

    "So your magic. It lets you..."

    "I can... well, not talk to animals. But I can explain things to them. The smarter ones. His pack doesn''t really like me, but I bring them food sometimes so they won''t attack me on sight. And I told them to keep away from here."

    Aytin unconsciously scanned the woods around them, but there was nothing there. Nonetheless, he wished for a bow. Or at least his spear. "Is it safe?"

    "Sure!" she said, brightly. "Just, uh, don''t come any closer."

    "Right. I won''t." He eyed Stumpy with distrust. The nauliker had finished the chunk of meat and laid down at Ness''s feet. But he kept his green eyes fixed on Aytin.

    "I was thinking that he could, you know, help."

    "Help? Like... help fight?"

    "Yeah!" Ness nodded enthusiastically. "He''s helped guard the tribe before. He''ll do what I tell him."

    He eyed the creature dubiously. It would be hard for any creature to look outright hostile, sprawled out like that. And it would doubtlessly be useful in any attack. Even the most alert sentry would be hard pressed to notice a nauliker in the darkness. But...

    "It- He won''t mistake one of us for a meal out there?"

    "Uhh... I think I can keep that from happening."

    She didn''t sound sure enough for Aytin''s comfort. So he pressed, "And what will Stumpy think of Faelon?"

    Wildlife really didn''t like the dragon. To the point a few huntresses had complained about having to fly further to find prey.

    "I still think we should bring him with us. We can make it work. And he will help."

    Aytin looked back towards Attalee.

    "She''s managed to keep him under control so far," the huntress confirmed. He did note that she was well back from the nauliker. Well outside of the range of any leap. Nonetheless, she continued, "And I don''t think it would be a bad idea to have him nearby."

    It wasn''t an option that Aytin really liked, but he had been forced to face quite a few of those lately. Besides, the fearsome little beast might end up being useful. There were even stories about their bites being dangerous to dragons. Not quite as deadly as a green''s venom. That stuff was terrifyingly potent. But enough of them working together...

    "Could you get the whole pack to move to the keep?" Even if they couldn''t bring them to attack a dragon, they would be incredibly useful. That, and the image of Xantha being torn apart by the poisoned jaws of ten or twelve of them was oh, so satisfying.

    Sadly, Ness shook her head. "I told you that they don''t really like me. Just because I can keep them away from here for an afternoon doesn''t mean I can get them to move their den a day away."

    "But Stumpy will? He''ll leave his pack?"

    "If I travel with him, sure. His pack... well, with his leg, he isn''t the best hunter. They won''t care." She searched down with her free hand and started stroking along the beast''s back.

    All things considered, there wasn''t much reason to argue. "How long will it take?"

    "A day, but I''ll be back in camp tonight. It won''t be a long flight and nothing out there will mess with Stumpy." She gave her pet''s flank an affectionate rub and he nuzzled her arm in return.

    "Okay. You, um... do you need anything?" Suddenly he was all too aware that he was technically the one in charge here. She really was asking his permission.

    Luckily, Attalee was there to help. She pulled a couple of bundles out of her pack and set them down well away from the nauliker. "For your friend," she said. "And fly by camp at midafternoon. I''ll come out searching for you if you don''t."

    "Yeah, yeah, I''ll be careful. And Stumpy will be here to protect me." She gave her pet one more affectionate pat and then rose. "Come on! We''ve got a long way to go!" She grabbed the packages of food, stuffed them into her pack, and took off.

    Aytin had just enough time to get clear before a green streak shot past, following the slow flying dragonette. Within the blink of an eye, it had disappeared into the forest, leaving him alone with Attalee.

    With the rest of the pack nearby and no Ness to keep them safe, neither had any reason to remain. They both took off, and quickly passed above their beast tamer. She waved up at them, but kept up her own low, slow banking path. It wasn''t long before they left her behind.

    There wasn''t any conversation on the short flight back to camp. Apparently, everything that needed saying had already been said, leaving Aytin alone with his thoughts.

    Those thoughts were a mess. He tried to concentrate on plans. On figuring out where to fit Ness and her ability. On plans for the upcoming fight. Or what would happen after Xantha and her band were dead.

    But no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, he always kept coming back to Rina. And to the sinking suspicion that he had messed everything up. That he had overreacted. Faelon, too, but... he didn''t blame the dragon. Not anymore.

    ''So, what if Faelon was right? If she''s just with me for wealth or power? We gave almost the entire cache to the tribe, and who knows if we''ll be alive in a week?''

    Rina hadn''t known all the implications to start with. But she did now. And she certainly had that night at the village.

    Maybe it had all started as some ploy to win him over. If it had, he didn''t think it was anymore.

    The ruined keep passed below as they descended towards camp. Even in its prime, the place couldn''t have compared to the one that he had grown up in.

    He wondered what his family would think about this mess. There had been talk about finding someone for him in recent years. It was always worth cementing an alliance with the surrounding keeps. He remembered his friend Korbin teasing him about his crush on Nyssa back when Faelon stopped at their keep. As hard as it was to imagine, they might have ended up together if things had worked out differently.

    Uncle Cork no doubt had a list of eligible women in the capital. A marriage into a powerful merchant house would be an attractive prospect. Even better, a link to some noble family could make an enormous difference to their own fortunes. Just being the mate to the third daughter of a cadet branch of one of the high nobles was a position that could be leveraged.

    The Luffins weren''t so desperate as to force him into a marriage against his will. He would be given options, and the opportunity to ensure that there was something between him and his prospective mate. But a wildling huntress on the edge of the frontier was certainly far from the future they had planned for him.

    Aytin didn''t know how his mother would react to Rina. Maybe she would just be happy that he had survived. Lin would approve, though. Once they got to know each other, the pair would probably get along like lighting and thunder. And from all he had learned about the Bloodhorn, he was pretty sure that his father would have liked her.

    The view of the stone walls disappeared behind trees as they dropped below the hilltop. Moments later, he followed Attalee through a small gap in the canopy to land back in the camp.

    "Let me know when Ness comes back," Aytin said after they had landed.

    "She''ll be fine."

    "I know, but I just want to know."

    The huntress shrugged. "I will make sure she goes to see you when she returns." Then she nodded to someone behind him.

    It was Rina.

    The wildling huntress was standing there, a few wingspans away, looking nervous.

    "Remember what I told you," Attalee whispered as she walked past him. To Rina, she gave a smile and a pat on the shoulder. If there were any words exchanged, he couldn''t hear them.

    Within a few moments, the pair was alone. Conspicuously alone.

    "Rina..."

    Aytin''s throat closed up. He had no idea how to say what he wanted. In fact, he wasn''t even sure he knew what it was that he wanted. His guts were roiling and he didn''t know if he was angry or terrified or nervous or about to break down in tears.

    Her ears were flicking up and down. Nerves? Trying to hide her feelings? He couldn''t tell. She had her wings folded close and her hands clenched across her chest so tight that it was amazing her claws hadn''t broken skin.

    He didn''t know how long they stood there like that. It seemed like an eternity before he finally found the words, "Rina... I''m sorry."

    She blinked, and cracked a small smile. "Good."

    "Good?"

    "It means I don''t have to say it."

    Aytin couldn''t help it. He snorted a laugh.

    "Aytin, I... I thought... no. I didn''t think." She shook herself before taking a hesitant step towards him. "I should have told you."

    "But you did tell me. And I didn''t listen. I should have."

    Her smile grew, then faltered. "What about... what about Dragon Faelon?"

    "We talked. It''s... he''s okay. With us."

    Rina''s ears lifted, but she still seemed hesitant. "And what about you? And us?"

    Aytin hesitated, taking a deep breath. But when the words came, they came more easily than he expected. "I want to try this again. Us, again." He looked at her hopefully and was rewarded with a huge smile before Rina closed the distance in a flash of white and blue to scoop him up in a bone crushing hug.

 Chapter 38: Take Me Back

    "I knew it! We''re just tools to you! Didn''t I say it? Didn''t I?!"

    A handful of birds leapt out of nearby trees and Aytin struggled to remain straight faced under the verbal assault.

    He had been expecting something like this when Attalee practically dragged him out of camp. And he was grateful that she had at least waited until they were out of earshot of the rest of the wildlings before laying into him.

    Rina had insisted on accompanying them and she pushed between the two. "What are you talking about, Attalee?"

    It had only been a day since they had decided to try again, and they were still feeling out their new relationship. That she would immediately come to his defense against her friend and mentor gave him hope.

    "Why don''t you ask him? He knows exactly what I''m talking about."

    Rina turned and Aytin''s hope was instantly snuffed out. Now he was facing down two huntresses, one confused and the other outright furious.

    "What does she mean, Tin? Do you know what she''s talking about?"

    He did. It was only surprising that it had taken Attalee almost a day to hear about it.

    "I think," he began, slowly. "That she means that I''ve been teaching Khrik, Drav, and Nali how to be lancers."

    "Lancers." Rina rolled the unfamiliar word across her tongue. "What''s a lancers?"

    "A quick way to die, that''s what it is," her companion spat.

    She was right, but he struggled to put a better face on it. "It''s... how my people fight dragons. Without other dragons."

    "He''s convinced them to take spears and charge a dragon!"

    "Look, will you just let me explain?"

    The senior huntress gave him a dark look. "What is there to explain?"

    "Aytin?" Rina''s eyes were narrowed with concern.

    He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "We need some way to fight their dragon if things go wrong. Faelon can''t fly. If it gets into the air, it will kill us all."

    "So we all die killing it for you instead?"

    "No!" Aytin gave a hiss of frustration. "This is just a plan for if things go wrong. So if they do, the rest of us live."

    "But the lancers will die?" Rina asked, quietly.

    Aytin didn''t want to answer, but he knew he had to. "Probably. Being a lancer is very dangerous. They have a long spear and fly at the dragon with it."

    "Okay." Rina nodded slowly, thinking about what he said. "It will be dark, so we''ll be hard to see. If more of us attack, and we come from different directions-"

    He could see Attalee getting ready to butt in. To twist his words. He couldn''t hesitate.

    "Rina, lancers have to fly as fast as they can. All the way to the dragon. And don''t stop. It''s the only way to really hurt one."

    "Oh." He could see her mind working. "Is that why you wanted those three with us?"

    "I asked them," Aytin tried to explain. "I made very sure they knew everything and I asked them and they all said yes."

    Her frown deepened at the attempted evasion.

    "Yes!" Aytin practically shouted. "Yes, it''s why I wanted them here. I hoped I wouldn''t need to ask them to do this, and I hope they won''t need to do it!"

    "See?" Attalee demanded, teeth bared in contempt. "The dragon doesn''t care about us."

    "That''s not true!"

    "If he did, he wouldn''t ask this."

    "My father was a lancer!"

    The sudden outburst took her aback. "He fought dragons?"

    "He trained for it. He was ready to do it."

    She caught the lack of an answer. "But he didn''t."

    "He died fighting darklings."

    "Maybe he had honor, then. But," the huntress waved an arm back towards camp. "That dragon will trade us all for victory."

    "Then why did he order me to leave him behind if things went wrong?"

    Again, Attalee paused her vitriol to narrow her eyes. "What do you mean?"

    "He told me that if the plan failed... that I should get to safety and make sure all of you did, too."

    "It sounds like he cares for you more than us."

    He shook his head, hard. "You''re wrong. But that doesn''t matter because I care for you."

    Attalee snorted and gave a sidelong glance towards Rina.

    "I do! All of you!"

    He would have gone on, but Rina reached out to take him by the forearm. "I think I understand." To Attalee, she said, "He asked them. They agreed."

    "He picked them because he knew they would."

    Rina looked back to Aytin who grimaced. "I didn''t know they would."

    "And what if I told you that I wanted to be a lancer?"

    His wide eyed look of terror was all the answer she needed. And thankfully, after a moment she shook her head.

    "I don''t. I... I don''t think I could. No matter what Dragon Faelon asked."

    "I certainly wouldn''t," Attalee added, unnecessarily.

    "What if a dragon threatened the tribe and Faelon wasn''t here? What about then?"

    "But there isn''t, is there? We''re here, fighting your battle for you!"

    "Stop!"

    Rina''s shout brought them both up short. "We took Dragon Faelon''s payment and agreed to fight," she told the other huntress. "And he is a Dragon.

    Then, she turned to Aytin. "When would you use the lancers?"

    "If we were going to win, but the other dragon made it into the air. And only if there were no other way."

    She didn''t look happy, but she nodded. "I trust you."

    "Thank you Rina." He let out a breath of relief, only for her to let go of his arm and take a step away.

    "But... what you did... It feels wrong. Not honorable."

    Aytin hung his head and felt his ears droop. "I know. I... I didn''t want to, but..."

    "But you did."

    "But I did."

    He didn''t dare look up, just stared at his feet.

    Eventually, Rina broke the silence.

    "Attalee, we need to talk. Alone. Tin..." He looked up hopefully. "We''ll... Later. I''ll see you later."

    With both of the huntresses'' eyes on him, Aytin turned and left. His gaze was downcast as he made the short journey back to camp on foot.

    ''Why? Damn it, why?! Every time anything good happens, it all falls apart! Every. Time.''

    A god had to have decided to torture him. That was the only way that things could be going so wrong, so often.

    Except, this time, he knew he deserved it. No matter how often he told himself that there was no other way, it didn''t matter. He knew that he had been as manipulative and self-serving as Xantha.

    "Companion Aytin!"

    The shout jerked him back to reality. Somehow he''d wandered back into camp and hadn''t noticed it.

    "Oh, hey, uh, Companion Cue." It took a few moments to spot the wildling shaman striding towards him. "What are you doing here?"

    "I''m here to collect the Dragon Magic, yes?" He was his usual bundle of nervous energy, bouncing from foot to foot and ears held nearly vertical in excitement.

    "Yeah... it''s just, we weren''t expecting you. Not for a few days."

    "Oh, is it a bad time?" Cue seemed to deflate a little. "I can come back."

    "No, no, it''s fine." The shaman would be a distraction, at least. Aytin forced himself to smile as he said, "It''s just a surprise. A good one."

    "Excellent! So, do you need to prepare? Or can we leave now?"

    "Uh..." Aytin was a little taken aback by the enthusiasm, but he recovered quickly. "No, I''m ready. Let me just speak with Faelon and we can go."

    Cue beamed at the news. "Very good! May I accompany you?"

    That request, at least, he had been anticipating. "Yes. It won''t take long, but you are welcome."

    True to his word, the conversation with the dragon was brief. Cue looked on as Aytin confirmed the proper way to harvest the heaven oak bark and made sure things would be ready for his return.

    He didn''t mention anything about Rina or Attalee. That would come later.

    Then the pair of them were off, headed the short distance to the grove.

    Clouds were rolling in, and with them a brisk wind from the west. Aytin didn''t feel like straining against it, so their progress was slow. Much faster than walking, but it left time to talk. And the young dragonette really didn''t feel like being alone with his thoughts.

    "I thought you were going to be another couple of days. What happened? Did you finish early?"

    "No," Cue called back, and angled his tail to ease himself closer. "The Matriarchs wanted our winter camp prepared a little early this year, and I''ve been busy with that. But I didn''t have anything to do today."

    "They have you hauling things around?" The shaman wasn''t much bigger than Aytin or built for manual labor.

    "I''ve been using magic to make food last longer."

    "Really? How are you doing that?"

    "A ritual my tea- that I learned in my training."

    Aytin caught the hitch, even over the wind. But the shaman pressed on like nothing had happened.

    "Lots of the huntresses and workers are here, though. I''ve been doing the ritual faster than they can bring food. So..." He trailed off, and opened his hands wide in a flying shrug.

    "It can''t help that the huntresses here are killing half the deer in the forest to keep Faelon fed."

    "That many?"

    "Eh, maybe not. But he''s eating as much as the rest of us together."

    All of the Faelon''s injuries that could heal had done so. Apart from his left wing and a missing toe on his left foreleg, the only sign of his grievous wounds were patches of faintly discolored scales and a slightly truncated horn. Most of the food was going towards filling him out, replenishing the reserves he had used up since the ambush.

    "It won''t be for much longer," Aytin added. "Once it gets too cold to hunt, Faelon will go to sleep and not wake up until spring."

    "I''m sure that we could feed him. Especially with so many of us asleep thanks to his magic."

    "Trust me, it''s best for everyone this way." And knowing Faelon, spending a winter not only stuck in a cave but with no way to escape the shaman''s questions would be the worst kind of torture.

    They had dropped low as they flew near the keep, letting the surrounding forest and the central mesa block some of the wind. Ahead of them, the grove of heaven oaks was rapidly growing larger.

    Both dragonettes went silent as they approached. It was the first time either of them had been so close to the massive trees.

    Aytin thought he had been ready.

    Heaven oaks might be sacred, but they weren''t mysterious. His home was too hot and dry to support them, but he knew the stories. He had even seen groves and once a whole forest of them from Faelon''s back. But he had never actually been so close to one.

    The trunks were spaced widely enough for a small dragon to fly among them. It didn''t even feel like a forest. More like they were flying through a city of wooden towers stretching up to touch a multicolored sky of green and orange and gold.

    ''And these are young ones!''

    By unspoken agreement, they landed in the center of the roughly circular grove. There were younger heaven oaks at the fringes, descendants of the originals that would have worked just as well for their purposes, but this just felt right.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    Cue was looking around in awe. "It''s... amazing." Aside from his craning neck, every bit of the wildling was still. Frozen.

    Aytin let him gawk. It wasn''t like he was immune to the surroundings. A speck of gold grew from a pinprick to a broad leaf bigger than his head. It fluttered to the ground, just a few steps away. The forest floor was covered with them, and they crunched underfoot as he stepped over to retrieve it.

    The leaf was thicker than he expected. Almost like parchment. Its jagged edges fluttered in the breeze, trying to escape his grasp. When he did open his hand, a gust of wind sent it looping away, to get lost among the multicolored carpet.

    He looked up to find that Cue had moved as well. The shaman looked like a hatchling compared to the forest giant he was standing next to. Every wildling in the camp could hold hands, and they might wrap around its base twice if they really stretched.

    Hesitantly, the shaman raised one hand and held it a scale''s breadth from the rough bark, not daring to actually make contact with the sacred tree.

    Aytin raised his own hand and pushed Cue''s forward that last little bit. The wildling stiffened slightly, no doubt expecting some divine punishment despite the assurances.

    The wind blew. Leaves fell. Beams of sunlight grew and faded. No godly magic or draconic spirit appeared.

    It was just a forest, no matter how enormous the trees.

    ''I wonder what he would have thought of a unicorn appearing,'' Aytin wondered. ''Although if there were one on this gods forsaken island, the wildlings would have to know about it.''

    "I cannot believe that I''m here."

    The words were whispered. Reverent. Cue was staring at his hand with wonder where his claws dug slightly into the rough bark.

    "You are your tribe''s Companion. If anyone deserves to be here, it''s you."

    "I... yes." He sounded strangely uncertain.

    Confidence had never been a quality that Cue had lacked before, and Aytin frowned. "Is something wrong?"

    The shaman didn''t say anything at first. Slowly, he removed his hand from the heaven oak and turned to face the other dragonette.

    "Sometimes I... I don''t feel that I am much of a Companion. I accepted it, when I was all the tribe had. I did what I could, learned what I could. But then you came. A real Companion!"

    Aytin shook his head reflexively. "I''m not... I had a different path than you did."

    "You have Dragon Faelon as your teacher! I only had two years with Companion Nocta before she passed on! She was an apprentice for almost as long as I''ve been alive!"

    Suddenly, a manic glint entered Cue''s eyes. "Teach me!"

    A wave of panic washed over Aytin. "Teach you?"

    "Yes!" The young shaman nodded enthusiastically. "You know so much! Please! If you could just share a little!"

    "You... know my magic is different from yours, right? I don''t know any spells or rituals or anything like that."

    "Companion Nocta taught me the rituals I need. But the rest? I know so little! And you know so much! Please, tell me about Dragons! I want to know everything!"

    This was a situation that Aytin had been dreading.

    So far, he could face an inquisitor and be truthful when he said that he did nothing to encourage dragon worship. He had skirted the edge of heresy, maybe even edged across the line in places, but never went further than that. Given the circumstances, he had hoped that it would be overlooked.

    But if he started making up stories to feed the wildling faith, that would be unforgivable. If the inquisition caught wind of it, he might wish the brigands had killed him.

    And Cue was still there, looking expectant.

    ''He''s our biggest supporter among the tribe''s leadership. If I refuse, what happens then? Or worse, what if I tell the truth?''

    A disillusioned Cue would be a disaster. After everything he had put on the line to convince the wildlings to fight for them, finding out Faelon wasn''t some kind of god might destroy him. And he could very well drag the entire plan down with him.

    Aytin cast about for inspiration. Anything he could say or do to avoid any lies or uncomfortable revelations.

    It was in the heaven oaks that he found his answer.

    "You know of the Makers, yes?" Aytin began, recalling the word that the lancers had used.

    "Of course! They created the land and skies. Dragons are their children."

    "Yes, but what do you know about the Makers themselves?"

    "Themselves?"

    He had Cue''s rapt attention as he nodded gravely. "Yes. Like why they created the heaven oaks. And why they are sacred."

    That did it. If the young shaman''s eyes got any bigger, they''d pop out of their sockets.

    "This is the tale of Kalador and Itova, two of the Makers."

    "Kalador and Itova," Cue repeated, as if he was tasting the names.

    Aytin paused, outwardly to let the tension build. Inside, he was scrambling to piece together old memories. Half-remembered lessons. Stories told as the fires burned low during great feasts. Passages from the handful of books in the keep.

    Not all of it could be right. There were things he remembered that contradicted each other. And a few holes he would just have to fill in himself. But once Aytin thought he had the story ready, he took a deep breath and began.

    "After making the islands and filling them with light and dragons and dragonettes, the Makers were happy with what they created. So much had turned out so well. They believed it would continue as it had, so they turned to making other things.

    "But some of them weren''t happy. The dark Makers had waited and when the others were not watching they added the cold and pushed back some of the light. They wanted the darkness to win, so they made it harder for us to live."

    "These are the ones who made the darklings?"

    "Some of them, yes." It wasn''t exactly right, but close enough to the lessons that Aytin remembered from his childhood. Hopefully, that would be good enough for the inquisition.

    "The other Makers stopped them before they could replace us. But it was too late. They could make new things, but not destroy things one of their own had made.

    "Winter came. Plants died, and it was too cold to hunt for as long as it lasted." Not that he had ever experienced winter firsthand. But if he lived through the confrontation with Xantha, that was sure to change.

    "Dragons are strong and full of magic. Some aren''t bothered by the cold. The rest can just go to sleep, and wake up in the spring.

    "But we dragonettes can''t do that."

    Aytin was starting to get into the flow of things. His wildling was coming more easily, and Cue was hanging on his every word.

    "Only a few dragonettes survived until spring. Dragons helped, but it wasn''t enough. So many died and if there was another winter, that could be the end.

    "Kalador was the Maker who made dragonettes. He didn''t want us to all die, but he knew another winter would come. He was also the one who gave us light, and the Makers of darkness hated him the most."

    "Kalador made us?"

    "Uh, yes." Aytin stumbled slightly at the interruption.

    "We never knew one Maker was our creator. Now we can honor him properly. Thank you." Cue inclined his head in a slight bow.

    "You''re, uh, very welcome." Aytin struggled to remember where he was.

    After a bit of floundering, it came to him. "Itova! Sorry, I mean, it was Itova, who saved us.

    "She is of love and life, and if we died then she would be badly hurt. So she went to Kalador with the idea for the heaven oak."

    He gestured to the trees around them as he said, "Together, the two Makers created these as a gift to dragonettes. They give us protection, thanks to the magic in them. The magic that can let us sleep through the winter just as the dragons do.

    "Oh, they had help, too," he said, as he remembered a particular detail. "Since it''s the magic of dragons, they had to have the help of a dragon. A silver dragon.

    "This one had fought all its life against the forces of darkness. She won a great battle but was horribly injured. As a final request, she begged for a chance to see the world that she had helped protect. So the two makers collected her soul and her bones and from them created the first heaven oaks. And with that gift, dragonettes can spread to every island in the skies. Just as the Makers wanted."

    As the story finished, Cue stepped forward to once again lay a hand on the heaven oak trunk. "It all makes sense now," he murmured.

    Aytin wasn''t quite sure what that meant, so he just bobbed his head. "I''m happy to hear that."

    "Yes, the gift wasn''t ready before." The shaman was growing louder and more animated as he spoke. "The heaven oaks needed time to grow. That must be why the Dragons ordered us away! And you and Dragon Faelon came to tell us that they were ready!"

    "Well, yes, the trees are adult," Aytin said, steering the conversation away from any confirmation that they were messengers from the gods. "Your tribe can care for them now. Watch for any fires that might damage them and keep others from trying to harvest them. Spread, them, too. Take the seeds and plant them far and wide." That much was what any dragonette could be called on to do. "And in return, you can use heaven oak''s gifts. Come here and let me show you."

    Gathering the heaven oak bark proved easy enough. They cut away patches to expose the smooth, inner layer and harvested strips of the pale-yellow bark. The cuts were never more than a few hand spans wide at most. Not even pinpricks to the forest giants. They would heal quickly and in a few months there wouldn''t be a mark to be found.

    With their bounty carefully packed away, they took to the skies. Thanks to the brisk tailwind, it took little time to return to camp, landing near Faelon''s shelter.

    "Are you ready?" Aytin asked as he retrieved a large clay jar with a tight fitting lid. He poured the gathered shavings inside as Cue watched attentively.

    "I have little else to look forward to," the dragon replied as he scraped a small depression into the sandy patch of soil.

    The jar went into the hole and was covered with a shallow layer of soil. "It won''t be much longer," Aytin said, dusting off his hands. He only got a rumbling grunt in response.

    A small crowd of wildlings had gathered to watch, and Cue was happy to explain that they were doing Dragon Magic. That was enough to bring the rest. Even Rina and Attalee were there, standing towards the back and watching.

    "You might as well give them a show," Aytin said to Faelon as he backed away. To the gathered wildlings, he added, "Everyone, Dragon Faelon is about to give his blessing. Give him room."

    It took a few moments to get everyone to a safe distance. Once he was satisfied, the dragon took a deep breath and exhaled a stream of fire onto the patch of ground. The circle of dragonettes recoiled reflexively, blinking against the blast of scorching air.

    Faelon relented after only a few heartbeats. The pool of fire he left behind didn''t last long, either. Flames quickly died, and the crowd pushed forward once again to see the result.

    The sand was fused and blackened, with a few small embers glowing on its surface. Faelon gently extended a clawed foreleg and cleared away the upper layer. Its heat didn''t bother him in the slightest.

    As spectacular a demonstration as it was, very little heat had reached the pot through the sand. It was only slightly warm when Aytin picked it up and presented it to Cue.

    "Take this and dry it by a fire until it turns white, then crush it into a powder." The shaman accepted the warm container, nostrils flaring slightly at the sharp odor seeping out. "Add it to boiling water and let it steep for a morning. Then if you drink it and fall asleep in the cold, you won''t wake until it''s warm again."

    "Thank you, Companion Aytin," Cue said formally, and dipped his head low.

    Since there was every chance he wouldn''t be there to help, Aytin added, "A few will need to watch the ones asleep. And Agon should be ready to help the young and old. They will be safe from the cold, but waking can be difficult. Have blankets and hot stew ready."

    There were murmurs from the onlookers, a few tinged with apprehension. Apparently they had thought the dragon magic would be a miracle cure. Or more of one.

    The whispers soon quieted as Aytin remained standing. He had one more thing to say.

    "The heaven oaks are for your tribe to guard, now. But as the guards, you do not need Dragon Faelon''s blessing to use their magic anymore. Do as I showed you. Keep them safe and you will both grow strong."

    He stumbled a few times with some of the words, but managed to get through the speech he had rehearsed well enough. It certainly seemed to impress the gathered wildlings. Most of them came forward to look at the "blessed" bark or feel the heat radiating from chunks of fused sand.

    Cue was nothing if not grateful. He made a show of gifting Faelon with the backstraps from several deer and apologized that it wasn''t more.

    It really wasn''t more than a few mouthfuls to the dragon, but Faelon rarely got the opportunity to enjoy that particular tender cut of meat. Through Aytin, he graciously accepted the offering.

    It was clear that the wildling shaman wanted to stay and ask more about the Makers, but the shadows were beginning to lengthen. His escort - a capable looking male by the name of Tor - had been tapping his spear more and more impatiently as the assembly went on. He looked like he was about to physically drag his charge away when Cue finally seemed to notice how late it was and said his goodbyes.

    Once they were gone, the rest of the camp went back to what they had been doing before. Cooking, chores, training, and keeping watch on the skies.

    All except for Attalee and Rina.

    ''At least they didn''t keep me waiting.''

    He motioned towards the edge of camp, and the two huntresses followed close behind.

    They didn''t go far. Once they were out of earshot, Aytin turned and regarded the pair.

    "Well?"

    He didn''t want to prolong the conversation, but Attalee apparently had other ideas.

    "Did Faelon actually need to do that?"

    The words didn''t have any particular malice behind them, but he still winced. "No." The huntress just kept staring at him. It wasn''t long before he couldn''t take it anymore. "The bark doesn''t need a blessing. But the Matriarchs thought it was ''Dragon Magic'' and I didn''t want to correct them and so..." He trailed off and hung his head.

    "And the rest?"

    "The heaven oaks really are sacred. They were gifts from the... the Makers as you call them. This grove needs a guard until more are growing across the island."

    This time it was Rina who spoke. "But you didn''t have to tell Cue that it didn''t need Faelon''s blessing."

    "Your tribe deserves it." Aytin gave a small, bitter smile. "And Faelon might not be here for next winter."

    The two wildlings looked at each other. Rina ruffled her wings slightly before they both turned back and Attalee asked, "What lies have you told?"

    "I... I tried not to. There are things I haven''t said. Things I can''t say."

    "Can''t say?" Attalee raised an eye ridge in question.

    ''Gods damn it!'' From her look, she wasn''t going to let him go until she had answers. But they were so close. So close. And she was going to tear it all down!

    Maybe if it had just been Attalee he would have made something up. Or told a half-truth. With Rina there, looking on impassively, he couldn''t. He just... couldn''t.

    "Dragons aren''t special."

    It took a moment for the words to sink in. For her part, Rina cocked her head in confusion. But Attalee, she seemed... vindicated.

    "They aren''t children of the Makers any more than dragonettes are. They made us both. Just different."

    "A lie, then," the elder huntress said, voice even despite the subject.

    Aytin felt something snap. "You were the ones who thought he was special! Like a Maker! I didn''t even know what Dragon really meant for days! It''s just a name to us! Just like Companion!"

    He turned towards Rina, almost pleading. "To me, Companion just means friend. I''m Faelon''s friend. The only one he has left. We were just trying to survive long enough to maybe hurt the ones who killed all of our other friends.

    "We wanted help. We wanted to ask for help, and pay for it in return. Everything else? Once it started, there was no way to stop! None of you would have believed me. Or some of you would have. What would have happened then?"

    Attalee gave a soft snort. "Was that really what you were thinking at the time?"

    "No! I was thinking that I was caught in a storm and I was trying to do anything to get through it!" Aytin let loose a frustrated growl and balled his hands into fists. He could feel his claws cut into the skin of his palms but he didn''t care.

    "You both know me as well as I know you. You know what I''m like!" That managed to get a reaction out of Attalee. She obviously didn''t appreciate having her own words thrown back at her.

    "I care about the tribe. I care about you, Rina. Just like I care about Faelon. For him, and our friends who they killed, I have to fight the traitors!"

    He was starting to ramble, and he didn''t care. The frustration and anger and emotional whiplash of the last few weeks was all pouring out.

    "You don''t want your people to be lancers? That''s fine. You want me to walk out there and explain what I just told you? Also fine."

    Attalee shook her head. "You just explained what would happen if you did that."

    "Then what do you want from me?!" He was panting, jaw open and lips pulled back. Almost snarling as he looked up at the much larger female.

    Someone touched his arm and he whipped around.

    It was Rina.

    "We both... didn''t tell the truth," she said, softly. "Maybe not for bad reasons. But not for good ones. And it got away from us both."

    Aytin let himself uncoil, ever so slightly. "It really did."

    "I''m sorry for what I did. I think you''re sorry as well."

    "Very, very sorry. I... I don''t know how I could have done things differently. But I wish I had." He let out a low, frustrated hiss through his teeth.

    Rina gave his arm a squeeze. "I understand. But now, we don''t have secrets?"

    He blinked. "I... don''t think so. If I think of any, I''ll tell you."

    "Good." She pulled him close and it felt like a weight had been lifted out of his chest as he embraced her. Together, they turned towards Attalee.

    "We can''t say anything about this," Rina told her senior.

    An expression like smelling rotten meat passed across Attalee''s face, but she nodded. "There would be chaos. But the lancers-"

    "Made their choice," Rina insisted. "And if things go well, we won''t need them. If they don''t..." She nudged Aytin.

    "Then they save us all. Or if it is bad enough, we fly. Then we won''t need them."

    "I hate this." The words were flat and empty. "They may die for a lie."

    "I hate it, too," Aytin said, and it was very clear that he meant it. "We will try to avoid using them. Anything we can do. And if you think we cannot win..." He gulped before promising, "If you think we''d be throwing them away, then we won''t."

    She blinked at that and thought about it for a few seconds before shaking her head. "No. This decision is yours. I will not share the guilt."

    "That''s not-" But she cut him off.

    "I will not stop you. I''ll even help, if only to save as many of their idiot heads as I can. But if you send them to their deaths, you will have to live knowing that you and you alone were responsible for it."

    Without another word she spun and stalked back to camp, leaving Aytin and Rina alone among the trees.

 Chapter 39: Us Against the World

    "It took them long enough."

    Aytin ignored the comment, instead peering through the canopy towards the distant keep. His talons dug deep into the rough bark of the wide branch. He even tapped into his magic to keep his balance as he leaned forward, trying to get a better view.

    "You said that they''d be here three days ago. Where were they?"

    "I never said that, Ness," he replied, absently. They had a spyglass back home in Luffin keep. It would have been nice to have it here.

    The young huntress glared from beside him. "Yes you did. You told us all exactly when they''d be here. So we went five whole days without fresh meat. I''m a huntress, you know. Hunting is what we do!"

    "I told you, they were supposed to take about five weeks for their journey. So what if it was a little longer than that?"

    "And no flying! No fires!"

    Aytin sighed and finally turned back to face Ness. "We had a cookfire." Carefully hidden, and fed with deadwood to reduce the smoke. "And you got to fly just yesterday."

    "That''s messenger duty! That''s no fun!"

    "This is supposed to be fun?"

    She stuck her tongue out at him. But he understood.

    The entire camp was getting stir crazy after days of laying low. In fact, Aytin had begun cutting back flights a week before, just after Cue departed. Nobody liked it, but if one of them was spotted when the brigands returned, that could ruin everything.

    If they returned.

    That worry had crossed his mind. There could have been a mutiny. Or they found a better spot to hole up for the winter. Or they could have had the bad luck to run into a patrol out of some regional fortress.

    But none of that had happened, and all the precautions turned out to be worth it. Because just as the sun passed its zenith, Ness had sounded the alarm. Minutes later, a blue dragon with a cloud of dragonettes had flown almost directly overhead on their way to the keep.

    "Keep an eye on them," Aytin ordered.

    "Awww, but-"

    "And try to keep quiet."

    She grumbled a little, but obeyed. Aytin didn''t think even magically enhanced hearing could have heard them from so far off, but he wasn''t willing to bet their lives on it.

    Every wildling in the camp waited as he glided down. Faelon was there, too. He watched intently from behind the crowd, still as a statue save for eyes that tracked the young dragonette''s path down from the canopy.

    "They''re here," was all he said as he landed.

    "We knew that already. What else can you tell us?"

    Rina sounded as frustrated as Ness, and a general rumble of agreement came from the gathered wildlings. None of them enjoyed being grounded and it was showing.

    "About what we expected. Ness counted maybe eighteen of them."

    That caused some excitement. "So we outnumber them!"

    "Eighteen of them... and a dragon with working wings."

    That quieted them a little, but not by much. There were a bunch of pointed looks at their trio of lancers and mutters about how Faelon was bigger.

    If there was one thing that the wildlings didn''t lack, it was enthusiasm. That was pretty much the only thing that they had in abundance.

    Even with his limited training, Aytin was easily the most experienced among them at fighting other dragonettes. The huntresses were good enough at hunting for the table and the others at least knew which way to point a spear. Beyond that, they weren''t much more experienced than Saza.

    It wasn''t like the brigands were members of the royal guard or anything. But every one of them was a veteran of sorts. They had years of experience with their weapons. Many of them had their own armor, too.

    In a straight up fight, it would have been no contest. The wildlings would be destroyed. They were putting a lot of faith in surprise to carry the day.

    "Lessy, you have the best eyes here. Go and join Ness. See if there''s anything we missed."

    The huntress in question nodded and immediately took flight. They might not have a spyglass, but Lessy''s magically enhanced vision was even better.

    "Unless she sees anything, tonight is going to be the night. It has to be."

    There were nods all around. None of them relished fighting in the cold, and Matriarch Nej had been warning of the first true cold snap of the season coming soon. After that, no one would be able to last long outside of shelter, especially at night.

    It was warm enough at the moment. Unseasonably so, even. But that would only last a few more days at most.

    The nearly full moon would be both a blessing and a curse. All things considered, he was glad that they would be able to see who they were fighting, but it would certainly make sneaking up on them harder.

    Aytin realized that the entire camp was still watching him. They expected him to say more, and he struggled for something to tell them.

    "We''ve had a long flight to get here, with winds coming from every direction. But now we''ve made it, and... and..."

    He was starting to ramble. Despite all the planning, he had never considered coming up with something to say when this day finally came.

    Everyone knew the plan. Fires had been prepared on a distant hilltop. There were hides near the approach to the keep. The groups had been selected and details debated.

    There was nothing more to say. But he had to say something.

    Before the silence could become too uncomfortable, Faelon rose and extended his long neck over the crowd.

    "Aytin, will you speak for me?"

    At the dragonette''s grateful nod, he spoke. "I have lived for centuries. In that time, I have had many... many followers. In war and peace. I have never had - I do not believe any dragon has ever had - a more dedicated group of followers than you.

    "Your people saved the life of my companion before knowing more than he was in distress. By saving his life, you also saved mine."

    As Faelon waited for the translation to catch up, he swept his gaze across the assembly. When he found Rina he inclined his head to her, then did the same for Ness and Attalee. The latter was in the rear, leaning against a tree, but she gave a grudging nod in response.

    "You fed us. You healed us. And now you fight with us. I could not - would not - ask for more.

    "So I thank you all. For the sacrifices you have made. And," he looked towards the trio of lancers. "The ones you are about to make." With that, Faelon dipped his head low in a draconic bow.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Like a ripple, the wildlings bent in bows of their own. Heads lowered and knees bent until the entire circle had followed suit.

    After a handful of heartbeats, Faelon stood and rose to his full, towering height.

    "Now, go make your preparations. Eat, rest, tend to your weapons. When the time comes, fight well and remember the plan. I want to see every one of you atop that hill come the dawn."

    He turned and left the gathering just as Aytin finished translating the final words. What followed was a period of silence, then whispers, and finally...

    "You heard Dragon Faelon!" Rina called out over the growing mutters. "If you''re not ready for tonight, you have the rest of the afternoon to get ready. I hear that the cooks are making everyone''s favorite for dinner: Venison jerky."

    There were groans and someone threw a pinecone in her general direction. "I know. I want a cookfire, too. But it''s almost done. And just think of the victory feast we''ll have when this is all over!"

    There was a muted cheer at that, then the dragonettes began to disperse as the huntress waved them away. Once everyone was headed off to do last minute preparations, she headed straight for Aytin.

    "Thank you for that," he said, accepting a hug as she reached him.

    "Thank Faelon. He''s the one who saved your tail. I just got everyone back to work."

    "You''re still good at it. A natural leader."

    She smiled at the compliment, but her expression faded slightly. "It should be Attalee. Not me."

    The brief thaw in Aytin''s relationship with the nominally senior huntress had ended abruptly. He tried reaching out to her a few times. Those attempts were ignored.

    Her fellow huntresses knew there had been a falling out but, thankfully, there was no sign that she had ever gone into details about their feud.

    Ness had even tried to bring it up with him at one point. She had invited him along to feed Stumpy in his temporary lair a short walk outside of camp.

    Like most animals, the nauliker had an instinctual fear of dragons. No amount of coaxing would get him within fifty paces of Faelon, and just being within sight of the dragon made him antsy.

    Since a nervous nauliker was something no one wanted, they had found him a nice little shelter underneath some fallen trees where Stumpy could stay well away from the true apex predator.

    It hadn''t been hard to figure out that the young huntress had ulterior motives to get him alone, but Aytin had been just as tired of his restrictions as anyone else. When the opportunity to get out of camp presented itself, he seized it. And he wasn''t even upset when the question came.

    "It''s personal," he had told her as he tossed a chunk of jerky to the nauliker.

    Stumpy gave him a look that conveyed utter disdain for the dry, unflavored meat. When no other options materialized, he hissed a complaint before worrying at the poor offering.

    "Yeah, I know it''s between the two of you. So what is it? I know she''s not jealous of Rina."

    Aytin snorted a laugh. "You''re right about that, at least."

    "Is it Khirk and Drav and Nali?"

    "A bit, yeah."

    "So why doesn''t she just talk to them?"

    Aytin had frowned at the comment. He had assumed Attalee had done just that. But he just shook his head. "It''s more than that. A lot more. And... I really can''t talk about it. Not my place to say."

    She had tried probing further, but when it was clear Aytin wasn''t going to budge, she had dropped the subject. Apparently, she also passed on word of the conversation to the rest of the huntresses, because after that they started looking more and more towards Rina as their leader.

    She might not have been the next most senior huntress, but she had experience and her position close to Aytin lent her some of his authority. With the battle soon upon them, there wasn''t time to find anyone better.

    ''Hells, if it wasn''t for Faelon and the whole Companion shit, she''d be leading this. She''s better at it than I am.''

    "And I wish I was going with you instead of her. Attalee is like an older sister to me, but..."

    Rina''s comment brought Aytin back to the present. And he couldn''t argue with the sentiment.

    "Me, too," he agreed. "But someone has to lead the group at the fires. You''re the only one I trust to do it."

    She nodded, sadly. It wasn''t anything they hadn''t already debated a dozen times over. But neither of them could deny the facts.

    Faelon still couldn''t speak the wildling tongue with any sort of fluency. Aytin would have to be with the dragon, ready to storm the keep at the first opportunity.

    Attalee was the obvious choice to lead the distraction group, even with the friction between them. Only, she absolutely refused to leave Aytin alone with her fellows.

    ''It''s like she''s convinced that I''ll send them on a suicidal charge into the ocean or something.''

    So Rina would lead the other group. It was smaller than Aytin''s, but four of their five huntresses had composite bows, and three of the others were armed with crossbows. If the brigands sent scouts without their dragon, then they would have to kill them all, and quickly. A single escapee, or even just a signal flare, would be enough to warn the keep and that would be the end of everything.

    Under the cover of dusk, Aytin''s group would sneak into the creekbed near the keep, and get as close as they could while staying out of sight. Including the five huntresses and trio of lancers, they would have fifteen fighters. Seventeen if they counted Faelon and Stumpy.

    The broad strokes of the plan hadn''t changed much. If Xantha sent a small scouting party to the fires, Rina''s group would ambush them and take their place on the return. They had enough pots of "Dragon Magic" to set half the keep aflame. Then the rest of the wildlings would swarm over their remains.

    If Kalthor went out with the scouting party, Aytin and Faelon would assault the keep, and be waiting for the other dragon when he returned. Hopefully with Rina coming in from behind to clean up what was left.

    There were contingencies. Most of them revolved around the trio of lancers. If everything went well, Khrik, Drav, and Nali wouldn''t spill so much as a drop of blood.

    If not, they would be the only chance at success.

    And if Kalthor managed to get airborne and the lancers failed... Well, in that case, the plan was clear.

    Retreat.

    Could he abandon Faelon? Hide with the wildlings in the forest? Bide his time until the brigands lost interest in revenge or winter forced them to abandon their hunt? All the while knowing he had left his friend to die?

    Aytin didn''t know the answer to any of those questions. But he did know for certain that if he stayed behind, he wouldn''t be alone.

    Looking into Rina''s eyes, Aytin was sure that she would refuse to abandon him, no matter what. And neither would Ness or the lancers or most of the other wildlings who he had come to know over the past weeks.

    "I still wish I could be with you," Rina said after a few moments of thought. "You need someone to protect you, after all."

    And then she delivered a brutal poke to his side.

    "Hey!" He tried to retaliate, but his girlfriend was already dancing away, laughing. Lunging, he almost had her, but she sidestepped and prodded him in the back as he stumbled past.

    Rina met his glare with a grin before turning tail and sprinting away. Aytin didn''t even pause for a moment.

    He chased after her.

    She led him into the forest, dodging around trees and brush. Always just a few steps ahead.

    Up a mound of rocks. Over a fallen trunk. Through a dense stand of saplings. Branches she pushed out of the way recoiled to smack her pursuer in the face.

    Spitting leaves, Aytin dug in his taloned feet and dove forward in a tackle. Rina gave a surprised "Oof!" as he hit and they both tumbled to the ground, a carpet of autumn leaves cushioning their fall.

    "Got you!" Aytin declared, proudly. He sat on her back with a grin plastered across his face.

    With an explosive grunt, Rina heaved herself up. Surprised by the sudden movement, Aytin went sprawling. As he came to a rest, a weight landed on his chest, driving the air from his lungs.

    Opening his eyes revealed another face above his.

    "Did you really?" Rina purred. "Maybe I let you catch me?"

    She leaned in for a quick nuzzle, before rising enough to let him slip free.

    Aytin didn''t go far. He rolled over, remaining at Rina''s side and panting from the chase. "Still got you," he muttered.

    "Sure you did." His girlfriend slid an arm around him and pulled him close. Her steady breathing told the whole story.

    Deep down, he didn''t mind. In fact, there were advantages to snuggling against someone bigger than he was. Shifting, Aytin let his head rest against Rina''s shoulder like a pillow.

    Her heartbeat sounded in one ear. A gentle thumping.

    It made him feel safe.

    He closed his eyes, forgetting all of his worries about the upcoming battle. If only for a little while.

    When he opened them again, the shadows were noticeably longer. Nowhere near sunset, but shading well into late afternoon.

    A hand stroked down his side and he craned his neck. Rina was watching him, a small smile on her face.

    "Sleep well?"

    "Yeah. Yeah, I did." He stretched, feeling pleasure as joints popped. "Thank you."

    "Well, you caught me. You deserved a reward." A grin lit up her face, only to be overshadowed by a loud rumbling from below.

    Aytin looked down at her stomach and barked a laugh. "Hungry?"

    Rina''s ears drooped slightly in embarrassment as she nodded. "In all the excitement, I think I missed breakfast."

    "We can''t have you going into battle on an empty stomach." Aytin rose, and offered her a hand. "Come on, I know how much you want jerky, but if you can handle the disappointment there''s some dried fruit I''ve been saving for a special occasion."

    The two shared one last brief nuzzle before heading back to camp, and the preparations for the battle to come.

 Chapter 40: Our Finest Hour

    "Do you see them?"

    "I see them, Verk." Even with the moon hidden behind a cloud, a dragon was hard to miss as it took flight towards the distant campfires.

    A shiver seemed to go through the huddled group of wildlings as Aytin gave the whispered confirmation. It was time. There was no turning back.

    They were going into battle.

    Dragonettes rose, rubbing feeling back into stiff muscles. Further back in the creekbed, Faelon stirred, but remained hidden. A dragon approaching the keep, even daubed in mud and cloaked in darkness, would be too risky. It would be up to the dragonettes to clear the keep of whoever was left.

    "Alright, everyone." Aytin''s voice was hushed, pitched just loudly enough to be heard over the soft breeze and insect calls. "Get ready. As soon as they''re out of sight, we move."

    "Actually, we might have a problem."

    Verk''s voice was barely a whisper, but everyone heard her nonetheless. Her words hit Aytin like a slap in the face.

    "What?"

    "There''s only four of them."

    "Four...?"

    "One riding the dragon, two flying above, and one below."

    "You''re sure?" But Aytin knew the question was stupid before the sharp-eyed huntress nodded. ''Of course she''s sure. It''s clear as day to her.''

    "If there were nineteen of them before, that makes fifteen of them now. And twelve of us," Okoni muttered. Lessy had gotten them an exact count on the brigands, spotting one that they had missed.

    "Maybe we could come with you?" Khirk suggested. "Make it even?"

    "You have another job. And you aren''t equipped to fight inside," Aytin pointed out.

    The lancers were stripped down, with only their clothes and lances. Nothing that would be worthwhile in close quarters fighting. And it was too late to get them anything.

    There was a rustle ahead, but it was just Ness emerging from the tall grass, a long handled ax over one shoulder. "I saw the dragon flying out and sent Stumpy ahead. Are we going?"

    Aytin looked back towards Faelon. The dragon had followed the entire conversation, and his expression was grim. "The odds are poor. Perhaps we try another night?"

    "That won''t work and you know it."

    He received a nod of acknowledgement. "Likely not. But we must decide. Now." Faelon glanced in the direction that the brigands'' scouts had flown. "Can they do it?"

    There was the barest note of pleading in the words, and Aytin felt a stab of guilt through his chest at his friend''s desperate expression. Then he saw Attalee, staring at him coldly and ready to judge whatever decision he made.

    Really, though, there was no decision at all.

    "We''ll try," he said, then turned to the assembled wildlings. "If they raise an alarm, break off and fly for the forest. Otherwise, don''t let any of them escape. Ready?" The responses ranged from firm nods to raised weapons to Ness''s manic grin and a slight tightening around Attalee''s eyes.

    It would have to do.

    Aytin sprinted forward and extended his wings to catch the wind. In moments, he was airborne, followed by the rest of his small force.

    Regular flights and good food had returned his wings to working order. Most of the wildlings still passed him by, stronger, and eager to prove themselves to the Dragon Faelon.

    Ness was in the lead, skimming so low that her wings nearly brushed the grass with every beat. That sort of flying was dangerous in the dark. A single unexpected gust of wind could smash her into the ground, and Aytin winced as she sent the leaves on a sapling quivering from a last moment dodge.

    The others followed close behind. There was no formation. Everyone was pushing like mad to reach the walls of the keep before they were spotted.

    Darkness helped, but white hide practically glowed under the moonlight. All it would take was a single keen-eyed watcher to spot them and call out a warning. Aytin''s heart hammered with both exertion and terror.

    ''Please, Tula,'' he prayed, invoking the god of war and retribution. ''If you''re watching, we could use any help you''re willing to give.''

    Then the keep''s walls disappeared behind the ridgeline. If anyone had seen them, there would be flares going up any moment. If not, the rest of their approach should be hidden from view.

    They flew past the small, spring-fed pond that sat at the bottom of the hill. Beyond it, the group formed into a single file as they followed the gully beyond up the hillside.

    A fleeting memory surfaced. Straining up this path with heavy buckets in each hand.

    Aytin suppressed it. He forced himself to focus on the twists and turns that finally ended in a starry sky as they crested the hill.

    They split there. Attalee, Verk, and Okoni veered upward, bows at the ready. The rest made for the sally port and the large hole in the wall.

    Ness was still in the lead, and a shadow detached itself from the night below her. Stumpy was almost matching his partner''s speed as they both arrowed for the entrance.

    The silent approach ended suddenly with a cry from the battlements. It cut off in a choking gurgle as one of the bow-armed huntresses put a shaft through the brigand''s chest.

    More shouts came from the keep. They were followed by the twang of bowstrings and more screams of pain. And then a bone chilling animalistic snarl split the night as Stumpy shot through the passage, Ness right on his heels.

    Wildlings poured in after the pair, pushing hard to take the brigands through surprise and ferocity.

    Aytin was the last into the keep. He cursed his small build and the narrow wingspan that went with it as he readied his spear and raced inside.

    That spear now sported a steel tip instead of the crude, wooden one it once had. Maybe a mace or sword would have been a better weapon for this sort of battle, but he knew spears. And the shortened haft was handy enough in close quarters.

    The inside of the keep was a scene of chaos. Screams and shouts echoed off of stone walls, along with the crash of wood meeting steel. The smell of blood and spilled guts pervaded the enclosed space and flickering firelight turned the whole melee hellishly surreal.

    If not for his magic, Aytin would have tripped over the body of a brigand just inside of the entrance.

    He had a jagged chunk missing from his side. A serious wound, but not normally mortal. Except, even in the poor light, a sickly green stain was clearly spreading from the edges of the wound. Nauliker venom. The convulsions and wide-eyed rictus of pain on the brigand''s face confirmed that the brigand was on his way to a slow and painful death.

    Surprise might have been total, but they hadn''t caught the bulk of Xantha''s company asleep. In fact, many were wearing light armor, with weapons in hand. Half of their number might be down already, but the rest were fighting like cornered rats and exacting a steep price from their attackers.

    One wildling - Aytin couldn''t tell who - lunged with a spear, only to have her untrained thrust parried. The brigand followed up by sliding his blade up along the spear''s shaft. She screamed and stumbled back, blood dripping from severed fingers as she dropped her weapon.

    The brigand raised his sword for a killing blow, only to shriek as Aytin''s spearhead pierced under the armpit of his armor. With a twist, the young dragonette yanked the weapon free and let his opponent collapse into a gurgling heap.

    There wasn''t time to go to his ally''s aid, though, as another scream sounded through the keep.

    It had only been moments since the battle began, but both sides were nearly spent. A pair on the stone floor wrestled for control of a knife. Here and there, someone moaned or tried to crawl towards safety. Otherwise, the fight appeared to be over, save for a small knot of dragonettes in one corner.

    That was where the scream came from, followed by an abbreviated yelp. It was punctuated by the sound of wood slamming into something soft.

    "Nooo!"

    The wheezing shout came from Ness. Aytin could just barely glimpse her between the trio of brigands who surrounded the huntress and a fallen heap that could only be Stumpy.

    He didn''t even think, just ran towards the beleaguered wildling. Using magic to augment his balance, he practically flew across the carpet of bodies and scattered gear.

    To one side, the wrestling match had ended and an armored brigand was raising her knife for a killing stroke. Aytin lashed out, using his spear shaft to crack the woman across the neck and send her reeling and the blade flying. He didn''t pause to watch the results, although the warcry that followed told him that her victim had seized the opportunity.

    The shout had also alerted the brigands surrounding Ness.

    Two turned, a tall, mace-wielding female and a stocky male with a chunk of blue-stained firewood held in both hands. They exchanged a nod and the woman stepped towards Aytin while her companion returned to his wounded victims.

    That confused Aytin, and he hesitated for a moment. ''Ness is wounded. They should be focusing on the bigger threat. Ganging up on me while the other deals with Ness.''

    A sudden insight struck him. ''They think I''m just another wildling. Scrawny. Untrained. Not a threat.''

    Letting out a wordless cry, he charged, spear overextended in what was clearly a wild attack. He caught the edge of a sneer on his opponent''s face as she adopted a low ready, no doubt just waiting to bat his attack aside before delivering a killing blow as he stumbled past.

    Only Aytin didn''t play along.

    Just as the mace started to twitch upwards, the young dragonette dug his talons into the floor and flared his wings. There was a snap and a shooting pain as one of his toes lodged into a crack in the floor. The claw splintered, but it halted his headlong charge well short of his opponent''s defense.

    It was a technique that his brother Stonar had taught him during the season they spent training together. More for duels than actual combat. But in this case, it worked perfectly. The brigand''s sneer had been replaced with horror as her mace connected with nothing but air, leaving her completely out of position.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    She was trying desperately to bring her weapon around when Aytin lunged forward and drove his spear through her groin, below any protection offered by her armor.

    The scream of their comrade had the two remaining brigands whipping around to gawk as she sank into a growing puddle of her own blood. And Ness took the opportunity to strike.

    Her ax was missing somewhere in the mess, but she had a steel knife in one hand and looked ready to drive it into the back of the firewood-armed dragonette.

    She lunged, but the oozing gash on her hip caused her to stumble. The soft grunt of pain was enough to send her target dodging to the side, and a strike that should have landed right between the wings only creased his side.

    Instinctively, the brigand lashed out with the chunk of wood and there was a sickening crack as it struck Ness''s shoulder. She cried out in pain and stumbled back into the wall, slumping to the floor. Her knife fell from suddenly nerveless fingers to clatter into the darkness.

    Aytin cursed and lunged, only to be forced to dodge the chunk of wood that whistled past him. The brigand had spun with unnatural speed to hurl it, no doubt channeling some sort of magical strength. It put the younger dragonette on the defensive, and sent him backpedaling.

    ''Where are the other huntresses? Verk, Okoni, Attalee?!'' The trio were supposed to come help once they were out of targets up above. But he hadn''t seen them anywhere.

    The nominal leader of the pair rolled his shoulders as he drew a blade. It was a thick, heavy weapon with a single slightly curved edge. "Finish off the bitch and then help me deal with this one!"

    The other brigand nodded, stalking towards the wounded huntress and raising a hand ax for the killing blow.

    "NOOOO!" Aytin screamed in rage and frustration, but even with the longer reach of his spear, he was at a disadvantage. This one was taking him seriously, and he was experienced. Every thrust was met with a brutal parry backed by unnatural strength. There was nothing he could do.

    Nothing.

    A bone chilling snarl froze everyone. The brigand looming above Ness had just enough time to look up before a mass of green and blue slammed into his side.

    He screamed in shock and pain and brought the ax down on the beast again and again. But the wounded nauliker had a death grip on the dragonette''s neck and was hanging on for all he was worth.

    Midway through a swing, the handle slipped through twitching fingers and he slumped to the floor. Stumpy followed, chest heaving and leaking blood from a dozen gashes across his flank.

    Aytin''s opponent growled in anger, but only spared enough of a glance to make sure that the beast wasn''t getting up. He didn''t seem to give a loose scale about the fate of his partner.

    No one else in the keep seemed capable of joining in on either side. Many of the bodies carpeting the ground were moving or moaning, but that was it. They were alone.

    In the brief pause, the brigand took a closer look at his foe. His eyes narrowed, then widened in sudden recognition. "You! The fucking noble brat!"

    Aytin didn''t bother responding with words, instead thrusting forward.

    But even surprised, the other dragonette wasn''t distracted enough to neglect his defense. He swatted the thrust aside and managed to score a slash across Aytin''s arm.

    It wasn''t deep. The blade was designed for chopping, not cutting. But it was first blood, and the young dragonette hissed in pain.

    "See? Weak little noble piece of trash! No wonder your family wouldn''t p-"

    He stopped in mid-word, confusion written across his face. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. And then he twisted slightly, revealing an arrow sprouting from his back.

    The last remaining brigand toppled to the ground.

    Aytin rushed towards Ness.

    She was trying to drag herself forward with one hand. Her other hung at an unnatural angle behind her.

    "Help me!" she growled through gritted teeth, tears of pain trickling down her cheeks.

    Aytin didn''t know how. The wound on her leg was bad, but blood was only oozing from it. That wasn''t a danger.

    Her shoulder, though...

    Aytin shuddered. Agon might be able to put it back together. Maybe. What looked like it could be a shard of bone stuck out, glistening white and blue in the firelight. That sort of wound was beyond anyone short of a master healer.

    Nevertheless, he squatted down and started working to bandage the wounded huntress''s leg. But she thrashed against his grip.

    "No! Help me!" she begged, and stretched an arm out in front of her. Towards Stumpy''s broken form.

    Finally, Aytin realized what she was asking. Looping an arm underneath her good shoulder, he half carried, half dragged her the handful of steps to where her companion lay.

    Tears that had nothing to do with physical pain dripped from Ness''s face as she reached out to stroke the beast''s flank.

    Incredibly, the nauliker stirred. He turned to face his mistress and a gurgling whine escaped from his heaving chest.

    Aytin felt a stir of hope before the scale of the nauliker''s wounds registered.

    Massive gouges on his flanks. A rear leg hanging on by a thread. Half his face smashed. Blood was pouring out in spurts, and those spurts were rapidly dwindling. Stumpy had only lasted so long out of sheer stubbornness, and that was quickly running out.

    He managed to nuzzle Ness, and the huntress gave a shaky, hiccuping laugh. "Hey... hey Stumpy... It''s going... going to be..." She choked up, and hugged her companion close as sobs wracked through her.

    There was a flutter of wings behind Aytin and he turned to see Attalee. The senior huntress took in the scene, jaw working as she surveyed the carnage. Her eyes finally came to rest on the softly crying Ness and the now motionless form of Stumpy, and she started to shake.

    "Attalee-"

    Aytin flinched as she whirled on him, teeth bared. Her expression somehow got even nastier as she looked him over, taking in his lack of any serious injury.

    "Tell me," she growled, one hand reaching for her quiver. "Tell me why I shouldn''t put an arrow in your gut and leave you to die?"

    He backed away, arms wide. "Please, Attalee, I... I..."

    She had an arrow out. One tipped with a steel broadhead. And there was murder in her eyes.

    "Why. Not?"

    "Don''t..."

    The single word brought the vengeful huntress up short.

    Ness was still lying there, good arm wrapped around Stumpy''s corpse. But she was staring up at them both, eyes bright with tears.

    "He was here... and he saved me... and tried. He tried..." Her words trailed off as she looked down and hugged her companion tighter. "He was here," she finished, almost too quietly to be heard.

    "Companion Aytin fought like a demon," another wildling called from the far side of the room. It was Zinzi, one of the huntresses. She was limping forward, a rag held against her left hand. Blood from the stumps of several fingers stained it a deep blue.

    The wildling who had been struggling with a gash in his stomach slowly straightened, and Aytin saw it was their healer, Shinn. He grimaced in pain as he rose, but the wound was no longer bleeding.

    "He saved me. I thought..." He shook himself, and then got a good look at the surroundings. "Oh, Makers!" The healer pushed past Attalee and crouched at Ness''s side.

    Two more wildlings picked themselves up, as best as their injuries would allow. Three others didn''t.

    Attalee''s rage melted away, and she seemed to sag. Her ears drooped and she looked away, back towards the hole in the western wall.

    "Two of them tried to fly for help," she muttered. "They were outside the keep. We had to chase them."

    "Did... did you get them?"

    The huntress nodded. "Before they made it to the treeline. These bows..." She trailed off and held up the weapon before shaking herself. "They''re dead."

    Aytin looked up towards the night sky visible through the gap in the wall. There was no one out there, and he frowned. "What about the others? Verk and Okoni?"

    "Alive," Attalee confirmed, and Aytin breathed a sigh of relief. "Okoni took a gash to the wing. She had to land. Verk is getting Faelon."

    ''Right.'' Suddenly, the fact that the battle wasn''t over yet registered. "Right, Faelon! Is he here, or-"

    "Aytin?!"

    Even from a distance, the dragon''s deep voice was loud enough to cut through the thick stone wall. Aytin was already sprinting for the exit.

    "Faelon!"

    Dark brown mud and deep red scales blended surprisingly well into surroundings, but a sprinting dragon was impossible to hide. He came barreling out of the darkness, and his footfalls sent loose stones clattering off of the keep''s walls.

    Faelon skidded to a stop so close that Aytin felt the wind of his passage. His nostrils flared as he took in the smell of spilled blood. "It''s over?"

    "It''s over."

    From the outside, the keep was quiet. There was no sign of the battle that had raged within.

    The first part of the plan had been a success. But...

    "It was... It..." Aytin''s face contorted. The ambush over the island had been over so fast that he had barely even realized what was going on before being overwhelmed. And the delerions had been a different kind of terrible.

    But Faelon understood. He dipped his enormous head so it was level with the dragonette''s much smaller one. "You fought and you survived."

    "Not everyone did."

    "They rarely do."

    The moment ended with a rustle of wings, as Verk and the lancers landed nearby.

    "Companion!" Khirk called out and rushed towards him.

    "Get inside. Help where you can," Aytin ordered, kicking himself for abandoning Ness and the rest of the injured wildlings.

    "What about the other dragon?" The lancer was shifting his weapon back and forth.

    His comrades looked equally anxious. Drav kept scanning the skies, while Nali gripped her lance like it might try to fly away.

    For a moment, Aytin was confused. ''But it''s over... right?''

    Except it wasn''t.

    "Right, uh." He thought for a moment. "Drav, you can see in the dark. Keep watch. When you see the dragon coming back, raise the alarm and you three get into position. Help until then."

    The wildlings nodded and ran for the keep.

    "Was the traitor here?" Faelon rumbled once they were alone again.

    "I..." Aytin had to think back to the rush of faces and bodies. "I don''t think so."

    "With their dragon, then." After a moment''s consideration, he added, "Or dead."

    "I hope not." Aytin surprised himself with the vehemence in his voice.

    "As do I."

    Before either could continue, distant lightning flashed in the cloudless night. The afterimage blotted out the faint light of the campfires that had been just barely visible.

    Aytin''s eyes widened, straining to see details far beyond what anyone could hope to pick out. "Rina," he muttered, heart hammering inside of his chest.

    ''Did they get spotted? Did they try to fight? How? Why?!''

    Seconds passed and nothing followed. Still, the young dragonette clenched his fists in impotence until Faelon spoke.

    "A signal, I think. They realized that they have been tricked."

    Aytin blinked, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, you''re probably right." A seed of doubt remained, but he forced himself to think. "We need to get ready."

    "And soon," Faelon agreed. "At speed, a blue will be here in minutes." He started moving to put the keep between his bulk and the returning dragon as the sound of distant thunder echoed.

    "Okay, I''ll warn the others to get ready."

    Things were better than they had been before he left. They''d gathered the wounded in one corner, and Shinn was doing his best to treat them. He wasn''t anywhere near Agon in terms of healing talent. At most, he could stop the worst of the bleeding while Attalee and Verk bandaged minor wounds.

    Someone had taken the time to lay out the bodies of the three dead wildlings. Each had their wings wrapped around them like shrouds. Stumpy''s corpse lay next to them, covered in a scavenged blanket.

    In another corner, the bodies of the brigands were piled in an unceremonious heap. A few were vaguely recognizable from his time in captivity, but Aytin didn''t see Xantha among them.

    Drav was already huddled with Khirk and Nali, gesturing animatedly in the direction of the lightning. All of them turned as they heard Aytin''s steps on the stone floor.

    "They''re coming," he said, and expressions tightened all around.

    Aytin held up a hand to stop them before the trio of lancers could take off.

    "Remember, it''s going to be vulnerable as it comes to land." All three nodded, but it was clear they didn''t need reminding. Aytin had only told them just that a dozen times during training.

    They were supposed to circle below the edge of the hill, where they would be hidden from view. Up above would have been better. Speed was critical for a lancer, and nothing built speed like a steep dive. But that risked being spotted and giving the whole plan away. A level approach would have to do.

    "And if it looks hurt, even just struggling to fly, break off. Faelon doesn''t want you throwing your lives away."

    "We won''t let Dragon Faelon down," Khirk declared.

    Nali gave a firm nod and Verk echoed the other lancer''s words with a sharp, "For Dragon Faelon!"

    Aytin took a deep breath and stepped to the side. "Then good luck. And... may the Makers be with you all."

 Chapter 41: A Dragons Revenge

    Of the remaining wildlings, Ness was far and away the worst off. Shinn was already directing Verk and Attalee to move her onto a makeshift litter. As the only two uninjured wildlings there, the pair of huntresses were looking haggard.

    As much as he wanted to pitch in and help, Aytin knew that there just wasn''t time.

    "Can you get her out of here?" he asked Shinn, Zinzi, and the other walking wounded.

    They exchanged glances, and then Zinzi pushed Verk out of the way. "We have to," she said, and grasped one of the litter''s poles with her good hand.

    The rest of the injured wildlings followed suit, and soon they were hustling their way out of the keep. They would wait in the gully for the next part of the battle to begin and use the distraction to break for the treeline.

    Aytin didn''t bother watching the stretcher party. As soon as they were moving, he headed to the bodies of the dead brigands.

    "There weren''t any survivors?"

    "There were." Attalee stressed the second word ever so slightly.

    A quick glance showed no hint of guilt in the huntress''s face. Not that Aytin felt any, either. He would have liked to question one or two. Otherwise, his only regret was that none of them were left alive to take the plunge into the ocean with broken wings.

    Turning over one of the bodies, there was a deep slash across the throat and a look of horror in the male''s empty eyes. Aytin ignored it, focusing instead on the dead dragonette''s frame. Not too much larger than he was.

    ''Xantha''s still out there. He could just imagine her, a pair of long gashes through her wings and tumbling out of control through distant clouds. The prospect brought a dark smile to his lips as he started stripping the armor off of the corpse.

    Attalee apparently took his expression as a sign of approval, because she squatted next to him and started sorting through the bodies to find one about her size.

    One was close to a perfect match, but she frowned at the dark blue stains on the armor. "No one will believe this."

    "It''s dark and they won''t get close enough to tell." Aytin glanced around while cinching his own stolen armor tight. "Where''s Verk?"

    The wildling was apparently unfamiliar with buckles. She sounded distracted as she replied, "Keeping watch. There were only two there when we arrived."

    It probably wouldn''t have remained that way for long after the dragon''s warning, but this had been the plan. Or close enough to it, anyway.

    Instead of complaining, Aytin tightened the final band on his armor and took a step towards his companion. "Here, let me-"

    But Attalee had already drawn her knife and sliced the offending buckle free. She quickly did the same for the others and slipped the breastplate off of the corpse. Aytin winced, but in the interest of speed he didn''t stop her. He just helped her slip into the unfamiliar armor and tie the harness across her back.

    "Are you ready yet?" Verk called down from above. "I think I can see them!"

    "Yeah, coming now! Get to cover!"

    The confines of the keep were tight, but there was just enough room for Aytin to throw himself into the air and soar out through the gap in the walls. He caught sight of Verk as he banked. She was flying for the edge of the mesa, about where the lancers should be waiting.

    From the top of the keep, both dragonettes scanned the horizon. They didn''t have Verk''s ability to see in the dark, but that wasn''t a problem for long.

    "There." Attalee pointed. In the distance, stars disappeared as something passed in front of them. Something big.

    The huntress''s brow furrowed as she watched the dragon approach. "How is it so fast?"

    "All blue dragons are," Aytin answered. "Fast, but fragile."

    "Fragile," Attalee repeated, dubiously.

    "Compared to Faelon."

    She scanned the treeline. "But much faster than a dragonette."

    It was the direction that the diversionary group was supposed to return from. And there wasn''t a sign of life out there.

    "We won''t need them," Aytin said with false confidence. In truth, he wanted Rina there at his side. Her, and the ten other wildlings armed with bows and firepots.

    The dragon grew closer. Close enough that they could begin to make out forms in the dim moonlight. As Kalthor made his final approach, the huntress muttered through gritted teeth, "I hope you''re right."

    It certainly looked like it. The blue dragon was on a fast approach, headed for a stretch of dirt just in front of the keep. Once he landed, Faelon would be on him.

    Everything seemed to be going just as they hoped. Right up until moments before landing, when their luck ran out.

    Whether it was instinct or a missing signal or one of the brigands had simply realized that the pair of "guards" weren''t their own, it didn''t matter. There was a shout, the twang of a bowstring, and the clank of metal striking metal as Attalee let out a pained grunt.

    Faelon sprinted out of cover, straight for the other dragon who was frantically beating his massive wings in an attempt to gain altitude. Taloned feet left furrows in the ground as they scraped past.

    And then the night turned to day.

    A red dragon''s breath weapon was terrible to behold. Not only was the night air''s chill replaced with the heat of desert noon, but Aytin felt the moisture sucked from his eyes and mouth just by being on the fringes of that blast. There was no way anything could survive that kind of immolation.

    But, impossibly, Kalthor soared clear of the inferno. Faelon had been forced to act too soon, and the blue had put every bit of his color''s famed dexterity to use, banking away at the last moment and taking the hit on his armored belly.

    One of his passengers tumbled off, smashing into the ground with bone-breaking force. Black patches marred Kalthor''s hide and he trailed a thin line of smoke. The dragon was hurt, obviously in serious pain. It just hadn''t been enough to bring him down.

    A bolt of lightning erupted from Kalthor''s maw. Distracted by injuries and evasive maneuvers, it only grazed the larger dragon''s side. Hardly more than a scratch, but a taste of what was to come. The blue was already out of Faelon''s reach, and gaining altitude with every wingbeat.

    Someone grabbed Aytin and yanked him down. When he saw that it was Attalee, he breathed a sigh of relief that at least she was still alright. Then the huntress turned slightly and revealed drops of blue trickling off her wings.

    The arrow hadn''t been deflected by the armor like he had thought. Or, it had skidded off the steel breastplate, only to bury itself deep into the muscle of her wing.

    The wound glistened in the light of another blast of dragonfire. She wasn''t in any danger of bleeding out, but even as he watched her face contorted in pain and the limb spasmed slightly.

    There wouldn''t be any escape for her. Not flying. And as Kalthor''s form rose above the rim of the parapets, Aytin realized there probably wouldn''t be any for him, either.

    Attalee had dropped her bow in the attack. Aytin snatched it up and grabbed the final arrow from her quiver. Standing, he could just barely see the trio of remaining brigands as their dragon fought for altitude.

    One of them had been paying attention. There was a shout and they pointed back to the keep as the young dragonette struggled to draw the bow.

    The brigand had her own bow in hand, and she was already pulling back on the string. It was a race, and one Aytin was destined to lose.

    Facing the sudden appearance of a dragon below and interlopers in their base, it was no surprise that the remaining brigands were focusing their attention on the threats at hand. None of them saw the three figures approaching at high speed until it was too late.

    If nothing else, Kalthor''s self-preservation instincts were well honed. At the shouted warning, he tucked his wings and dove towards the edge of the mesa. It was enough to dodge the first wildling lancer, who flashed above without so much as grazing the dragon.

    He didn''t manage to avoid the second strike.

    Kalthor roared in pain as a lance pierced his side. Drav''s body went tumbling below, spinning end over end, wings fluttering brokenly behind him.

    But dragons were enormous. A single lance strike might hit something vital. Maybe. This one hadn''t. It was too far back, and at a bad angle. The spearhead had buried itself in flesh and muscle, nothing more.

    Just as Kalthor was extending his wings to pull out of the dive, the final lancer streaked in. Even coming from below, this one was faster than the other two. ''It''s Khirk!'' Aytin realized as the wildling channeled his magic to ride the winds right into the dragon''s side.

    He struck at the base of the left wing and the lance embedded itself deep into the dragon''s shoulder. Again, far from a mortal blow, piercing only hide and muscle but leaving the organs beneath untouched. A quickly healed annoyance on the ground. Slightly more troubling in the air, but with enough altitude he could easily glide to safety.

    Except, Kalthor didn''t have any altitude.

    With the ground rushing up, he frantically beat his wings, only to roll sideways when just the right one responded.

    Two of the brigands managed to leap away. They had just enough time to redirect their headlong plunge into a bruising tumble. The third was violently thrown free as Kalthor plowed into the top of the mesa hard enough to shake the keep to its foundation.

    That rumble only grew. The ramparts trembled as Faelon galloped straight towards his stricken foe.

    The fall hadn''t killed the blue. Dragons were tough, and Kalthor was already picking himself up from the dust. But he was hurting and disoriented and completely unprepared as Faelon barreled into him.

    From a distance, it sounded like a boulder slamming into a tree trunk. Faelon smashed the smaller dragon off of his feet and sent him tumbling. A wing caught on the ground and snapped like a twig.

    Aytin knew full well what a dragon in agony sounded like. Kalthor''s screech of pain was so loud that he pinned his ears back instinctively. Even so, a ringing echo remained even after the scream died away.

    Even crippled and hurting, the blue wasn''t going to simply accept his fate. Claws raked at Faelon''s hide, leaving long gashes that wept blue blood. His tail whipped around and slammed into his attacker with enough force to reduce a dragonette to paste.

    The larger dragon ignored the wounds and unleashed a burst of fire. Incredibly, it seemed to miss the smaller dragon completely. But Kalthor screeched in pain once more. As he thrashed, an outline of his wing showed clearly against the darkness. Fire licked away at the membranes, reducing the limb to a charred and blistered mess.

    He tried to retaliate with his own breath weapon. A solid hit might stun the larger dragon. Even kill him.

    Faelon didn''t let him. He was behind the smaller dragon, and as Kalthor tried to whip his head around, Faelon caught the dragon''s neck in his massive maw.

    Both combatants froze, enormous chests heaving in exertion. The ground was torn and stained with blood. Bodies lay around them, lancers and brigands both. Only burning grass and dwindling puddles of dragonfire illuminated the scene.

    "Please..." The whimper sounded clearly across the distance. "Please... mercy!"

    In response, Faelon whipped his head back and forth. Once. Twice. Three times.

    A snap echoed across the mesa and Kalthor went completely limp.

    Everything was quiet for a long heartbeat before Faelon raised his head and let loose a stream of flames as he roared his defiance into the heavens.

    Aytin was torn away from the tableau by Attalee as she shook him. She was grimacing from the pain and held one hand against the tear in her wing. Her other was pointing off to the side. Towards the form of a lone dragonette stumbling off into the darkness.

    Xantha.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    His first instinct was to throw himself over the parapet and skewer the traitor. He even had one foot up on the ledge, but stopped himself and turned back.

    "Are you-"

    "Don''t let her slip away!" the huntress hissed through teeth clamped tight in pain. She motioned for her bow and he extended it to her. Instead of taking it, the huntress just grabbed it for a few heartbeats before pushing it away. "Make sure to bring that back!"

    With a final nod, Aytin tied his spear to a leather loop and dove off of the keep.

    As he flew off into the night, panic set in. Outside of the circle of light cast by flickering dragonfire, the darkness was nearly impenetrable. ''No, no! Gods damn it, she can''t get away!''

    He heard the sound of straining wingbeats before he saw their source. A wildling tore out of the night, passing not too far below him. It took him a moment to recognize Nali. The lancer had apparently survived her near miss and had seen the brigand leader''s escape as well, although she seemed so focused that she had obviously missed him.

    Without any better option, Aytin followed the wildling. He quickly fell behind. Her larger, unscarred wings propelled her forward far faster than he could hope to match. Even with his eyes finally recovering from the flare of dragonfire he was starting to worry he would lose her when another figure seemed to fade into view ahead. This one was on the ground, running with the occasional stumble.

    Nali adjusted her lance and flew straight towards the last surviving brigand. It was a poor weapon for killing other dragonettes, but it was better than nothing. With a little luck...

    The two met. It was hard to see what happened through the darkness, but it was clearly not a clean strike. The lance went spinning out into the night. Nali''s path took her over the cliff edge, and she dove out of sight.

    Xantha had come out of the exchange apparently unharmed. Worse, now there was a long, thin blade in one of her hands and she was scanning the darkness, advancing slowly towards the cliff.

    Aytin was within range for a bowshot. Just the one, though. There hadn''t been any more arrows. He needed to get closer.

    Coming in at a glide so there would be no sound of wingbeats to give himself away, he made his approach as Xantha peered over the edge of the cliff. Her back was to Aytin, inadvertently presenting the perfect target. ''Nearly there...''

    Nali erupted from the edge of the mesa. All she had for a weapon was a flint hunting knife, but she came straight for the brigand leader without any regard for herself.

    It was too dark and over too quickly to see what happened. The wildling huntress hit Xantha. The two rolled away. There was a struggle, and it was impossible to tell who was who. Aytin circled, watching and feeling helpless as the top figure shuttered and then went still.

    After a moment, the survivor pushed the corpse off from on top of her. As she stood, Aytin prayed it would be Nali.

    It wasn''t.

    Xantha slashed her saber across the back of the wildling''s neck. The corpse didn''t so much as twitch.

    ''Gods damn it!'' Aytin gritted his teeth and snarled. The traitorous bitch had killed another friend. ''No more!''

    He had a shot. The draw was painfully heavy, but he heaved back, lined up, and loosed.

    The bow twanged and the arrow lept out into the night. It was nearly perfect, aimed right between the wings. A mortal injury, or at least crippling.

    Only the sound of the bowstring or movement at the edge of her vision must have warned Xantha because she hurled herself to one side. The arrow hit the ground a hand''s breadth away from her wing and it shattered into splinters.

    "Why won''t you fucking die?!" Aytin half growled, half sobbed. A quick tug freed his spear from its bindings. After the briefest hesitation, he tied the bow in its place.

    Below, Xantha stumbled to her feet. She glared up at him, turning to keep him in view. As she did, she almost seemed to trip, only catching herself by wedging the tip of her sword into the rocky ground. Her next step had her clearly limping.

    An injury from Nali''s final attack? Had she hurt herself in that desperate dodge? Either way, Aytin rolled and dove.

    Not straight at his foe. Even if his spear struck home, he''d hit the ground an instant later.

    So he flew a path that would bring him in low and fast, coming from her injured side. She twisted to face him, of course, but slowly. And his spear was longer than her saber. He could make as many passes as he needed to, staying just out of reach until one of his attacks finally landed.

    Her leap took him completely by surprise. One moment Xantha seemed to be doing her best to scrunch down, presenting as small a target as possible. A heartbeat later she exploded out of her crouch.

    Aytin cursed, beating desperately and only barely avoiding losing fingers as her blade scraped along the shaft of his spear. The maneuver kept him in one piece, but maybe not for long. Now the ground was coming up fast. Feet and wings scrambled. A talon caught on a rock, the world spun, and the next thing the young dragonette knew he was laying flat on his back.

    By some miracle, nothing was broken. There would be bruises. Oh, would there be bruises. If he survived the night.

    Scrambling to his feet, Aytin found Xantha striding purposefully towards him, saber at low ready and very much uninjured.

    "Now, who are..." The words trailed off, and a look of incandescent rage erased the arrogant smirk on her lips. "You!"

    Despite everything, Aytin allowed himself a tiny smile. Somehow, Xantha''s fury redoubled. The blue of her ears deepend and he expected to hear a crack as her teeth snapped under the pressure of her straining jaws.

    All of that vanished in an instant as a vindictive grin spread across her face.

    "Maybe the gods don''t hate me after all."

    Aytin somehow still had his spear. He rushed forward, aiming to skewer her on it. She dodged away, flicking her saber to force him back. The finely wrought blade glimmered in the starlight.

    His next thrust was deflected, the point passing just a hand''s breadth from Xantha''s neck. It put him out of position and only his magically enhanced balance kept the young dragonette from stumbling forward and into the well practiced killing stroke that followed.

    "I knew you were a stupid, worthless piece of noble shit, but I didn''t think even you... Well, it must have been divine intervention putting you here."

    Without warning, Xantha advanced. She knocked away Aytin''s guard with contemptuous ease, forcing him to backpedal.

    "I think you''re starting to get it now. How much of a gods damn fucking idiot you were to show your face."

    Stepping forward, the brigand leader blocked his counterattack and caught the spear shaft as he tried to withdraw. A yank sent him stumbling forward, and that should have been the end of it.

    Only instead of pressing her advantage, Xantha gave the spear a shove. Aytin fell back, panting, arms beginning to shake from the exertion.

    "You might have been able to live here if you had just stayed away. The crippled spawn of a heartless noble bitch and a crippled coward of a dragon. The two of you were made for each other, you know?"

    Aytin was beginning to realize just how right Xantha was. Blinded by thoughts of revenge and the victories so far, he had committed to a battle with someone stronger, faster, and infinitely more experienced than he was. And it was becoming obvious that the only reason he was still alive was that she was toying with him.

    There was a chance, though. Get back to Faelon. And Rena is coming! Xantha''s wings were bigger, her muscles more powerful, but if he had an opening...

    "But not quite so crippled anymore," she mused as she saw his wings twitch. "Maybe we should fix that?"

    Quick as a flash, she darted forward. Aytin scrambled away, stabbing wildly, but she dodged the first, batted the second aside, and trapped the shaft against his body as she slashed.

    A wave of icy pain burned through his right wing as the membrane parted. A wide rent, right across the old scar. Then a taloned foot hit his stomach and he was knocked stumbling back.

    "There we go. Good as new."

    Aytin gasped, working to get the pain under control. It wasn''t as bad as the last time. A clean, quick cut, right through the membrane. Blood oozed out, dribbling down the wing and falling to the rocks below. It would heal in time, with stitches or sped along by a healer''s power.

    But until then, he wouldn''t be flying.

    "You know what I''m going to do with you?" Xantha asked, almost conversationally.

    Instead of answering, Aytin whipped his spear up and knocked the saber aside. It was a brief opening, but he rammed the point home.

    The sudden attack actually managed to catch the brigand leader by surprise, but reflexes honed in countless dirty fights across the kingdom took over. She turned sideways, and the spear skittered across her breastplate before she danced away.

    A small stain spread across the sleeve of Xantha''s undershirt. Aytin felt a surge of hope at the sight. It was a small wound, but he had still drawn blood. And for the first time, he had driven the more experienced fighter back. That was something, at least.

    "Rude." The admonishment was accompanied by a shake of the saber, like a finger at a naughty hatchling. "But I guess your mother never taught you not to interrupt someone when they''re talking to you, did she?"

    Xantha darted forward. This time she didn''t even bother knocking the spear out of the way. She simply dodged outside of the frantic stab before delivering a slash across Aytin''s left arm.

    Somehow it hurt even worse than the wing. A spasm sent the spearpoint dipping dangerously. But once again, Xantha didn''t finish him off. She just stood there, grinning, as the young dragonette struggled to get his weapon under control.

    "As for what I''m going to do with you..." Her sword flicked forward and Aytin had already scrambled away before he realized that his tormentor hadn''t moved.

    In fact, she was laughing at him.

    "Oh, gods, that''s too funny." She stalked forward, blade swishing back and forth. Its razor edge lopped off stalks of grass with every stroke.

    There was nothing Aytin could do but retreat in the face of someone so skilled. Step after step, he backed away, not even bothering to put up a fight.

    Xantha just kept coming, like the inexorable approach of a storm. Her left hand glistened with rivulets of blood as she reached down and drew an object from her belt.

    "Remember this?" The bronze knife was dull and tarnished, its handle crudely wrapped with scraps of leather. But even warped into a shadow of its former beauty, he recognized it.

    It was the blade Lin had given him the day he left. The gift that she had fashioned from pieces of his home, so he would have something to remember them by. The knife that Xantha had used to slit his wings.

    And it was clear that she saw the recognition in his eyes.

    "You do, don''t you?" Her grin expanded to show teeth as she dangled it between two fingers, taunting him. It took every bit of his self-control not to lunge for it, just like she no doubt wanted.

    With a deft motion, Xantha flipped the blade and caught it by the handle. The settings were briefly turquoise once more as her blood filled the empty sockets, but she paid it no notice.

    "I''m going to gut you with your precious little knife," she taunted. "I''m going to gouge out your eyes and snap your legs. You''ll be twisting and crawling like the worm you are. And while you''re screaming and crying and begging for me to end it all, I''m going to saw off that cute little horn of yours and use it to make a new sheath for my knife."

    His next step scraped across bare rock. Aytin dared a quick look behind him, confirming his fears.

    Xantha let him look, enjoying the young dragonette''s growing panic. "Or you could jump. Maybe you''ll get lucky and it will be fast. Or maybe it won''t be quite enough to snap your scrawny little neck. You might lay there for hours. Days. Wishing for death the entire time.

    "Either way, it''s your choice."

    The cliff extended into the darkness on either side. Aytin tried sidestepping, but Xantha was there. She brought the flat of her blade down on his wrist in a stinging slap before backing away once more.

    "Nooo," she scolded him. "I told you, there are only two choices. The cliff... or me."

    He could jump. Maybe his wing would support him long enough to make it to the bottom in one piece. ''But what then? Where do I go?''

    Aytin tried to think as he stood there, gasping for breath. Xantha took his indecision to be stalling.

    "Since you''re still here, I guess you''ve decided on me. I''m flattered."

    Out of options, and out of time, unable to break through the guard of someone so much stronger and more experienced than he was, Aytin took a gamble. He hurled his spear.

    It was an attack born of desperation. His weapon wasn''t balanced for throwing. He wasn''t even particularly good at it.

    But Xantha had been prepared for a final desperate lunge. Her eyes widened in surprise for a crucial moment before hurling herself to the side. The dodge was pure reflex. It was also a mistake.

    The point of the spear dipped almost immediately. By the time it reached her, the only thing at risk of being impaled was the dirt. The spear shaft caught her arm side-on. That would have been the end of it, except as Xantha dove, it tangled with her saber and tore the sword from her grasp.

    Aytin didn''t wait. He ran for the fallen blade.

    Halfway there, a blue blur slammed into him, driving the breath from his lungs and sending him sprawling.

    He coughed and struggled to his knees, only for iron fingers to close around his neck. They dragged him up, until only the tips of his talons were scraping against the ground. Even at that height, Xantha still looked down at him.

    Gone was any trace of sadistic amusement. There was only hate in that gaze, as she marched forward.

    Her grip was calculating. Just enough to make escape impossible, but not enough to choke him.

    She stopped just short of the cliff edge. It was a sheer drop, and even with his heart hammering in his chest, there would be time for a good dozen beats before he hit the ground below.

    Aytin got ready to spread his wings, to try and slow his fall as soon as she released him, but Xantha had other ideas.

    In her left hand, she raised the bronze knife, then slowly, inexorably, brought it towards her captive''s gut.

    He might as well have been a hatchling fighting to avoid bedtime. His hands were free, but there was no leverage to push against. Still, he gripped her wrist and fought futilely to hold back the blade.

    The knife slid closer.

    Kicking out did nothing. Held at arm''s length, his talons could barely scratch against her hide. They didn''t even draw blood.

    The cold bite of metal reached his belly.

    And jerked to a halt.

    It took a moment for the sound to register. The thwack of an arrow hitting home. Xantha coughed, and blue droplets sprayed across Aytin''s face.

    A figure flew out of the darkness. Rina, already reaching for another arrow, with murder on her face. Behind her, more shapes appeared as the rest of the wildling fighters shot towards them.

    Their warcry rang out through the night. Almost a dozen of them, all fresh, armed with bows and clubs.

    It was over. They had done it. The sacrifice. The pain. The blood and tears. By a scale''s breadth, it had all been enough. They had won.

    Or so he thought.

    Xantha''s grip tightened. With one last vindictive snarl, she threw herself off the cliff, dragging Aytin along with her.

    Time slowed to a crawl.

    Even as he fought against the instinct to spread his wings, Aytin tore the dagger from Xantha''s hand. Shock and pain loosened her fingers and it came free easily.

    Pain built and the world darkened as the grip around his neck tightened. In the face of that agony, Aytin drove the knife up. It slid through muscle and sinew as it sliced through Xantha''s wrist. Blood gushed and the pressure around his neck disappeared.

    Released from the death grip, he let his wings unfurl. The sudden pressure tore a scream from his throat as the raw hole widened. But they bit into the air and Xantha fell away.

    Her limbs spasmed in uncoordinated jerks as she watched a new pair of hands wrap around his shoulders. Watched with hate filled eyes as Rina''s own wings strained under their burden, pulling him slowly out of his fall.

    And as Aytin was carried back into the starry sky, he looked down just in time to see Xantha''s broken body smash into the rocks below.

 Interlude 6: When the Winter Ends

    The rasping sound of a saw filled the air as a couple of dragonettes cut into a thick tree trunk. They were working on their second tree of the afternoon. With the way things were going, they might finish a third before dinner.

    Personally, Hasker doubted it. The handsaw was starting to stick and every round was taking just a little longer to cut.

    ''That might well be me, though.'' After a long winter spent mostly in hibernation, his muscles were out of practice. Not that he could let his eldest daughter see it.

    Udali was on the other side of the handsaw. She didn''t show any sign of flagging. Of course, at fifteen, she was taller than he was and nearly as big as her mother.

    For once, the cool spring air was a blessing. Hasker was managing to keep his panting discrete. A stiff breeze from the east helped, but the once invigorating sunshine was turning oppressive.

    He was starting to really struggle a few strokes later when Udali called out, "I think that will do it!"

    Carefully, the pair pulled the long, thin saw blade out of the fallen trunk. Then Udali produced a wedge and a hammer. After just a few quick smacks, there was a crack and the wooden round fell free. Together, they rolled it over to a small pile of other logs waiting to be split.

    Before his daughter could pick up the saw again, Hasker said, "You look like you could use a break."

    She straightened, ears twitching and a slight smile on her face. "Sure, dad. Whatever you say."

    "Damn right, whatever I say." He even managed to keep a straight face.

    The effect was somewhat ruined by his daughter''s snort. Then she called out, "Servants! Our lord requires refreshment!"

    There was the sound of running feet and giggling. A gaggle of kids emerged from the forest, ranging from five to eight. Two older kids followed at a more sedate pace, keeping an eye on the youngsters as they made a beeline for Hasker.

    Their clothes were dirty and a few sported new holes that would need patching. There were streaks of mud across cheeks and tails and a few scrapes, but the kids were all smiling and dragging canvas sacks behind them.

    The smallest ran up and skidded to a stop in front of the adult dragonette. "L''rd Liz''n!"

    "Lord Lazon," one of his fellows hissed.

    "Yeah! L''rd Liz''n!"

    "Sir Iezin," Hasker replied, with mock formality. "What have you brought your lord?"

    "Berries!" He held up his bag and opened it wide. Small red and white fruits filled the bottom.

    Hasker leaned down to pick one and popped the wild strawberry into his mouth. The sweetness was tempered by a strong tart flavor. It hadn''t been quite ripe. Tasty enough, though.

    "Excellent, as always Sir Iezin."

    "T''anks da!"

    "Now put your berries over there and grab me the waterskin while I finish with your comrades."

    "Kay!" The boy practically threw the sack in the indicated direction and hurried off to grab the drink.

    Hasker repeated the process with the other young kids, then gave their minders a thankful nod as they herded the group off towards a nearby pond to scrub off some of the grime. The weather was still on the chilly side for a bath, but they had some old rags to scrub with. "Knights" had to look their best, after all.

    "Gods, I still can''t believe you got us all to do that," Udali muttered before taking a sip from the waterskin. After a moment''s consideration, she handed it back.

    Her father accepted it and took his own drink before replying, "I actually did just that with your grandmother. Then when she stepped down, she managed to get the kids to do it to me." He paused for a moment and squinted at her. "I seem to remember a certain little girl who was especially enthusiastic about it."

    "Oh, who is that?" Udali asked, deadpan.

    "Couldn''t say. She took her duties seriously, though. A model knight, that one."

    "Including that time she planted half a deer''s worth of venison in the fields?"

    Her father grinned. "You have heard of her!" Then he looked out to the nearby fields. "It would be nice to be able to grow venison like wheat."

    Little green stalks were beginning to push their way out of the soil. It wasn''t a large field. They didn''t have enough people to deal with the weeding and watering that would take. It still produced enough to pay the tax collector and leave them with a little for trade and their own use.

    Udali considered the words and shook her head. "Nah. Mom would sneak out in the middle of the night to burn the fields. No way she''d be willing to give up hunting."

    "Speaking of, she ought to be back soon." Hasker looked to the skies, hunting for any sign of the trio of huntresses that had flown off in the morning.

    Everyone was starting to get tired of stewed venison jerky, and it was late enough in the spring that the deer had put on a little bit of fat. If they couldn''t find any, rabbits or a boar or even a couple of squirrels would still make for a welcome change.

    As he scanned the western horizon, he squinted against the glare while searching for an even larger form in the distance. They were expecting the first trader of the year in the coming weeks, and despite the long winter they still had some surplus from the previous year''s harvest to sell. Between that, a few pelts, and some odds and ends they''d crafted during free time, they ought to be able to afford a few luxuries.

    Hasker had looked through the stores and figured that after the essentials, there would be enough left over to treat the residents of Lazon''s Rest to a keg of decent ale. They hadn''t had anything but some very rough homemade beer since Reed and Faelon had come through the fall before, so the treat would certainly be appreciated.

    "Oh, there they are!"

    He turned and followed his daughter''s pointing finger. Sure enough, he could just make out three figures flying in from the east.

    "Definitely look like they''re taking their time," Udali commented. "That means they got something big!"

    "Here''s hoping."

    The kids were starting to trickle back about then. Hasker put the older ones to work dragging branches towards a pit near the pond. They would do a charcoal burn sometime in the next few days. It would help replenish their supply after the long winter forced them to dip into the forge''s stocks.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Iezin and a couple of the youngest kids helped by finding ''swords,'' and were using them to fend off invisible darklings. It was keeping them out of the way, at least.

    Hasker watched them for a while, but he couldn''t put off his duties for long. Sighing, he picked up one saw handle, Udali grabbed the other, and they started in on the tree trunk once more.

    Someone must have sharpened the blades while he wasn''t looking because they bit into the wood much more easily than before. That''s what Hasker told himself, anyway, as they sawed away at the thick trunk.

    Three trees ought to give them enough wood to last well into summer. They would finish one more in the morning, then split the logs from the first. It had died over the winter, and was reasonably well seasoned. That would give the other two time to dry a little before they started working on them.

    Hasker looked towards the small cluster of buildings that might be charitably called a keep and hid a wince. When he was a kid, the treeline had been quite a bit closer. All that timber had gone into expanding Lazon''s Rest and feeding its ovens and fireplaces. He didn''t look forward to hauling all this firewood up the slope to the hilltop.

    They were about halfway through the next round of wood when Iezin tugged at his father''s shirt.

    "Da?"

    "Yeah, Izzi?" Hasker asked, pausing their cut.

    "Who are day?"

    He scrunched his eyeridges in confusion, but looked in the direction his son was pointing. Then he stiffened like someone had stomped on his tail.

    The three dragonettes he had taken for returning huntresses were coming in to land, and now it was clear that they weren''t who he thought they were.

    On the edge of the frontier as they were, Lazon''s Rest probably wasn''t much more than a note in the crown''s ledgers. Official correspondence with the rest of the kingdom was generally limited to their tax dues and an occasional request from one guild or another.

    Only Reed had brought with her an official warning from the crown. There weren''t any specifics contained within, only instructions to be vigilant.

    Some pointed questions had revealed that several keeps had dropped out of contact during the previous year. A few of those had been confirmed to have been overrun by darklings and the forces of the dark, a few of them relatively nearby. The warning had gnawed at him throughout the winter, even as the cold made the skies impassible for anything but a white dragon.

    The sight of three strangers brought those fears front and center.

    There was an ax nearby and he instinctively reached for it. The heft was reassuring, even if he wasn''t any sort of warrior.

    His initial jolt of terror faded somewhat as the appearance of the strangers registered. Only two had any sort of visible weapons, and those were simple, utilitarian bows still tied to their packs. The third was much smaller, and appeared to be carrying nothing except the clothes on his back.

    Those clothes were rough. Leather, mostly, and not particularly well tanned. The others wore similar outfits, although theirs seemed a touch more worn. Patched in places, with the undyed leather bleached slightly from exposure.

    None of them seemed to be having an easy time of it. They were coming it at a glide, not aiming for anywhere in particular, and the droop of their tails betrayed serious exhaustion.

    The smaller one in particular seemed to be struggling. He - and judging by his size, the dragonette was almost certainly a he - seemed to be wobbling back and forth. A slight nudge from one of the pair accompanying him seemed to help, but it also nosed him up a bit.

    He seemed to hang in midair for a moment as what little speed he had disappeared. A sudden gust of wind only made things worse, and Hasker winced as the male started to tumble.

    It was only quick thinking by one of his companions that saved the dragonette from a nasty fall. She had been hanging back slightly. When he started to falter she swooped in to grab him by the shoulders and pulled up in the final moments before impact.

    Both of them hit the ground, but the two managed to skid across the field instead of crash into it. Hasker could hear groaning from where they sprawled, but no screams or cries of real pain.

    Their third came to a landing not far away from the first two. This woman was older than the others, and bore a number of scars. She managed to remain standing, but bent double as she panted and fanned her wings to cool off.

    "Izzi!"

    The shout jolted Hasker from his gawking. He whipped around to look at Udali, then followed her gaze to where his son was running towards the strangers. The boy had his stick in one hand and a bag of berries in the other, and he was completely ignoring his sister''s shout.

    No one had noticed him until he was nearly halfway to where the pair of dragonettes were struggling to untangle themselves. Hasker knew better than to try adding his voice to the shouts. He sprinted forward, even though he would get there too late.

    Iezin came to a stumbling halt in front of the male who was still laying on the grass. He said something unintelligible and extended the bag.

    Icy talons closed around Hasker''s heart as the prone dragonette reached out a hand. His stride faltered and, and he only just managed to keep from tripping over a patch of uneven ground. But the stranger only pulled a few berries out of the bag and gave the boy a smile before popping them into his mouth.

    Meanwhile, his companion was sitting up and her attention was clearly focused on the oncoming Hasker. She pulled herself to her feet and if she wasn''t standing directly between him and her fellow, it would only take a step or two to block him.

    Hasker slowed his sprint as the panic subsided a bit. None of the three were making any threatening moves. They didn''t have any weapons out, and frankly looked so exhausted that they were at more risk from Izzi than the other way around.

    Coming to a stop a few steps away from the group, he edged to the side just a little to keep a clear path to his son. The tall female didn''t move to stop him, but did watch him warily.

    Belatedly, Hasker realized he was still holding the ax. He didn''t drop it, but he did relax his grip slightly and let his arm hang at his side.

    "Hello," he began, hesitantly. "I''m Hasker Lazon. I''m the lord of this keep." The last was added a little ruefully given his appearance.

    She gave him a slow nod. "I am Rina."

    Her accent was strange. Sharp and cutting. Still, the words were understandable enough.

    "Why are you here?"

    Rina cocked her ears at the question, then shook her head.

    The third dragonette of their group approached from the far side of her comrades, and she said something unintelligible. Rina turned and said something in response, followed by muffled words from the prone male that Izzi was fussing over.

    It was obviously some other language, but not one Hasker recognized. He frowned in thought as their clothing made more sense. ''Wildlings. But I''ve never heard of any living on this island. Which means...''

    His eyes widened at the implication. Crossing the skies, with nothing between them and the watery hells far, far below. There was a reason people only did that on dragonback.

    Hasker let out a slow, astonished hiss. "You''re all a looong way from home."

    He knew that the wildlings couldn''t speak much of his language, so he was taken aback when the male answered in kind.

    "You... have no idea."

    The dragonette shakily pushed himself up to his knees, and Hasker finally got a good look at him. He was scarred up pretty badly, especially for someone that young. Something had torn up his wings particularly badly. One had a slash nearly from the muscle to the edge. There was a matching scar on the other, with a fainter slightly jagged line crossing it.

    There was also something vaguely familiar about him. Something that the Lord of Lazon couldn''t place until the young male turned to accept a hand from Izzi.

    The sight of that kinked horn triggered a memory. A younger, softer version of the dragonette in front of Hasker, telling stories and drinking ale. But even though the shine was long gone from his scales, the profile was unmistakable.

    "Aren''t you... you''re the Bloodhorn''s son, aren''t you? From last fall?"

    He got a slow nod in response. "Yeah. I''m Aytin Luffin."

    Aytin gave Izzi a pat, then reached an arm out across Rina''s shoulders. The two seemed to lean on each other for support as the third slowly made her way over.

    A thousand questions flashed through Hasker''s mind. "What happened...? How...?"

    Aytin smiled slightly. "It''s a... it''s a very long story. And I don''t mean to be rude, but I''d much rather tell it somewhere more comfortable. Maybe with a few more of those berries?"

    "Oh! No, of course!" Hasker gestured towards the keep, and then frowned at the sorry state of the three dragonettes in front of him. "If it''s too far, I can-"

    He got a firm shake of the head in response. "No, we''ll make it." The younger dragonette looked up the slope with a determined expression. "We''ve made it this far," he said, giving Rina''s shoulder a squeeze before taking a cautious step forward. "And there''s still a long way left to go."

 Chapter 42: Wander the World

    Rooftops passed below Aytin as he flew, and he didn''t even try to hide his gawking.

    He knew that the capital was more than just a big town. But there was a difference between knowing and seeing.

    Ahead, the gleaming white Central Spire of the Royal Palace shone like a model on a pedestal. The massive marble buildings made up the heart of the city, and a steady stream of dragonettes flowed in and out of its gates. Even more darted in and out of the countless caves carved into the mesa it sat upon.

    Aytin realized that his course was drifting towards the city center and he pulled slightly to the right. His destination was just ahead, among the sea of buildings and small towers that surrounded the palace.

    The neighborhood in question was nicer than many others, with the buildings more widely spaced and no rickety crosswalks or washing lines hung between them.

    He picked out one house in particular. A four story job, with a fieldstone base, wooden siding, and a roof of red clay tiles. The Luffin crest was painted in a bright blue that stood out against the whitewashed walls.

    His mother had described both the building and its location before he left. So many times, in fact, that Aytin was pretty sure he could have found it in the dead of night.

    At the time, he had been frustrated by the whole ordeal. It seemed like a waste of time that he could be spending enjoying his last few days at home. Besides, he knew the city couldn''t be that big.

    He smiled at the thought as he began to descend.

    "You''ll be wanting to keep flying!"

    Aytin jerked slightly, then craned his neck to look up. A uniformed dragonette stared back at him. She held a short club in one hand and her expression made it clear that she was itching for an excuse to use it.

    "I have business here." The reply was clear and calm. Also true enough. But the guard snorted.

    "Fat chance you do. Find somewhere else to beg!"

    For a moment, Aytin was taken aback. Then he remembered what he was wearing and had to hide an ironic smile. ''Mother, if only you could see me now.''

    His outfit was a mish mash of wildling leathers, recovered brigand clothes, and the few bits and pieces of his original wardrobe that had survived. The small canvas pack he wore was stained and dirty, although it was at least well made underneath the grime. Still not the image of a son of a noble, no matter how far down the family line.

    The out of date and no doubt musty clothes he had packed away at the start of his journey would have been better received. Unfortunately, with most of the tribe asleep for the winter, no one had noticed when a family of rodents had snuck in to use it for bedding.

    "I''m not here to beg," Aytin insisted, once he understood the situation. "I''m here to see Cork Luffin."

    That obviously wasn''t what she was expecting to hear, and her eyes narrowed slightly as she reevaluated him. Then she shook her head. "He didn''t say nothing about some street rat coming to visit him today."

    "Look, just ask him. I''m sure that-"

    "I''m not gonna let some lying piece of trash bother anyone down there. Get a move on, before I give you a reason!" She smacked the club into her free hand for emphasis.

    Aytin thought about arguing. After a few moments, he decided against it. ''There are other, less painful ways to do this.''

    He turned and angled away from his uncle''s home. Behind him, the guard gave a short laugh. "Smarter than you look. Don''t let me see you again!"

    ''You keep thinking that.'' They would see each other again. He just needed some things first. Things he had already planned on picking up at some point, anyway. It would have been nice if Uncle Cork could have provided what he needed, but it wasn''t like he was short on funds.

    Lord Lazon had been more than accommodating. He had welcomed Aytin along with Rina and Attalee into his home. Aside from helping with chores, there had never been any question of payment for the two weeks they stayed there.

    It had been funny watching the two wildings adjust to life in a keep, even one on the very edge of the frontier. Some of it was luxuries like salted meat or clean-burning lamps with silvered backing. Then there was the time that he had found Attalee running her fingers over the line of iron nails used to secure a wooden joist.

    To be fair, they did spend longer at the keep than expected. There was no way anyone would be risking that flight again. Not without a dragon.

    And hadn''t that been funny when the dragon Zegel finally arrived, accompanied by the trader Vesper and her crew. He might have been on the small size for a dragon, but the green was still imposing. Also quite a bit more sociable than Faelon.

    Once Aytin told his story, they''d been more than happy to help. Vesper didn''t even charge for the detour to the wildling island to drop off Rina and Attalee and pick up the rest of Aytin''s things. Something about a responsibility to fellow traders and Zegel having a passing acquaintance with Faelon.

    The goodbye that followed had been hard. He and Rina had agonized about whether or not she would accompany him to the capital. After the taste of civilization she had gotten in Lazon''s Rest, she wanted to see more.

    Aytin had wanted to bring her. Gods, had he wanted to bring her. They had gotten even closer in those weeks leading up to winter. Then there had been the weeks of training together for their journey between islands. Recovering from the heaven oak induced hibernation and the lingering effects of Aytin''s injuries. Long days... and more than a few long nights as well.

    By the time of the crossing, there was no longer any question about what they meant to each other.

    Which only made it all the harder to leave her behind.

    Rina had responsibilities on the island. After the deaths and injuries during the battle with the brigands, they needed every huntress they had. Especially with Faelon to feed on top of the rest of the tribe. Just their absence during the time at Lazon''s Rest had been felt.

    Moreover, even if Vesper was willing to cut Aytin''s passage fees to not much more than the cost of food, she couldn''t afford to extend that charity to another. Especially as they were already running with a heavy guard complement.

    ''It won''t be for long. Just a few months. Fall at the very latest.''

    Yet, paying for Rina''s passage wouldn''t have been too much of a burden. The lockbox had yielded to the key recovered from Xantha''s corpse. There had been just over seventy gold in coinage, with another twenty in various bullion.

    Then there had been several small, valuable items of cargo. Various pieces of jewelry. One potion that would let the user stand naked in a blizzard for an hour with no ill effects. Another that would neutralize any poison less potent than green dragon venom, or so it claimed on the label.

    Several jars of spices were currently sitting with his luggage, back at the free trader''s guild. Also messages to various keeps and parties in the capital. He planned to deal with a few of those himself. Those that he could, anyway.

    All that was missing from the lockbox''s treasures was a jar full of honey. It was gone, consumed during the long flight between islands.

    Faelon had gifted everything to Aytin. Or, perhaps gifted was the wrong word. He had entrusted it to the young dragonette. It was a trust that Aytin had no intention of violating.

    Apart from the funds from Faelon, they had thoroughly looted the brigands before leaving the bodies out in the woods for the wolves and the worms. Between them, they had about ten gold in coins. And while most of the other supplies and weapons went to the wildlings, Aytin had brought along the handful of finer pieces, like Xantha''s saber.

    He had also recovered what was left of his knife.

    A hand reflexively went to his belt, closing on the rough leather wrap of the handle to make sure that it was still there. The original grip was gone, along with the beautiful turquoise stone that once graced the pommel. And the heat of the fire had warped the blade, ruining the fine edge.

    He''d sharpened it as best he could, but it never seemed to take. One of Zegel''s escorts, a female by the name of Viper, had told him the heat had probably undone all the work Suuie had put into hardening the bronze, and it would need another smith to put it right.

    It still made him feel better to have the blade at his side. Even if it wasn''t as good as it once was, Aytin wasn''t going to give it up.

    The good news was that after adding together everything with his own recovered funds, the young dragonette had close to a hundred and sixty gold worth of assets. Maybe more depending on what he could get for the weapons and jewelry.

    He glanced back up at the Royal Palace and shifted his course to take him towards the rear of the spire. His destination was ironic, given the source. But Aytin didn''t have the first clue where much was in this city.

    Closer to the Central Spire, the heart of the kingdom''s power, the concentration of wealth was obvious. Not just in the spotless towers and decorative stonework, but in the space between them. Gardens and wide boulevards and even broad lawns of manicured grass and trees spoke as loudly as any gilding could.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Cork''s place had actually been at the edge of this belt, where things became more of a patchwork. There were blocks where the buildings seemed to huddle together. Where the paint was a little faded and the crowds quite a bit tighter.

    They were still respectable, nothing like the slums out towards the edge of the city. Just focused on commerce more than impressing the upper class.

    Mixed seemingly at random were what could only be estates. Clusters of buildings, often walled, with similar architecture and usually a bit of distance from the surrounding buildings. Now that he knew what to look for, the occasional guard circling over these was obvious. Aytin made sure to steer clear of those, given his earlier experience.

    Interestingly, a few of these showed little signs of neglect. Like roofs with missing shingles or a reflecting pool with a skim of algae.

    All the random construction made his directions a little vague. ''"About eight blocks behind the palace spire," she said. But is that whole estate a block? Or those two roads a dozen wingspans apart?''

    In the end, Aytin landed in an open square about where he thought his destination would be. There were nearly as many dragonettes in that single intersection as there were residents of Luffin Keep. Nevertheless, he didn''t exactly blend in. There were eyes on him, especially those of a pair with some sort of official looking badges. One of those two said something to her partner before moving in his direction.

    A quick scan showed a score of shops and stalls scattered in and around the nearby buildings, with even more accessible by stairways or along narrow side streets. Signs ranged from the subdued to garish riots of color. None of them were for the place he was looking for.

    One nearby stand did catch Aytin''s eye. Or, more accurately, his nose. The smell of meat and spices made his mouth water.

    There was no line, it being mid-afternoon. He stepped up and the elderly proprietor frowned at him.

    "I don''t do charity and I don''t have any work I need done."

    Aytin pulled a few copper pieces out of a pouch and held them up. "Then it''s a good thing I don''t need either. But I''d like some of whatever it is you have there." He jerked his head at the pot and its gently steaming contents.

    "Two copper."

    When he laid a pair of coins on the counter, the old dragonette made them disappear with the swipe of a hand whose hide had turned a pale silver with age. Then he pulled a piece of flatbread out of a warming box and ladled a generous helping of meat in a thin sauce on top. A couple of deft folds later, he handed the open-topped wrap over.

    The first bite hit Aytin like a kick to the teeth. His eyes went wide and ears shot up as the heat slammed into him.

    He had grown up near the southern borders where most of the kingdom''s spices grew. Strong flavors and hot food were part of day to day life. But half a year living on traveling rations and whatever herbs the wildling tribe could find had definitely worn away a bit of his tolerance.

    "Water''s over there," the proprietor said, amusement written across his face as he jerked a finger towards a jug and dipper.

    Aytin took a long, grateful sip. Then he went back for another bite. The meat was a little stringy, but full of flavor beneath the spice. Now that he was prepared, the heat wasn''t even that bad.

    "This is good," he mumbled around the mouthful of food. He gulped it down and then went in for another.

    "You were looking like you might need a healer just a moment ago." With coins in his pocket and no other customers to deal with, the owner seemed a lot more inclined to chat. "Name''s White." The dragonette nodded towards the sign bearing his name and a stylized picture of the wrap he had just made.

    "Aytin," he offered between bites. "And I''m just a little out of practice is all. Been... way out in the back of beyond for a while now."

    White grunted and looked him up and down. "I can see that." Then his gaze shifted to someone behind Aytin. "Afternoon, Nell. A little early for dinner, isn''t it?"

    "Yeah, just doing my rounds," the guard said, sidling up behind the young dragonette and looming over him. "How are things over here?"

    "Good, good. Aytin here was just telling me about how he''s just arrived back from the frontier."

    "First real food in way too long." Both of them turned his way as he held up his meal with a friendly grin. "I know I look like I just crawled out of a dragon''s backside-" Nell snorted, and Aytin''s smile turned wry as he realized all the time he''d spent with traders was starting to rub off on him.

    "Anyway," he continued, "my luggage got ruined during my trip, and I was hoping to get some replacements. Either of you ever heard of a place called Citadel Needleworks?"

    Nell seemed quite a bit more accommodating with someone who didn''t talk or act like a beggar. "Yeah, they actually do a bit of fitting for the city guard. I had to pick up the lieutenant''s uniform one time." She pointed up a road that led in the direction of the palace. "One block that way, on your right. The sign''s a little small, so keep an eye out."

    She hesitated for a moment, then added, "Citadel does good work, but they charge for it. There''s a couple of places that are almost as good and-"

    "It''s fine." Aytin waved what was left of his snack, dismissively. "Some... some people I knew recommended it."

    Nell seemed to consider that for a moment, then shrugged. "Your gold. But tell you what. Things are quiet here and you''re not going far. Let me go talk to my lazy excuse for a partner and then I''ll walk you over. Hate to see you getting lost."

    White snorted a laugh. "You''re just trying to wrangle a kickback!"

    The guard''s face was the picture of innocence as she shook her head vigorously. "What? Me? Never!"

    That only drew an incredulous snort as well as a smile from Aytin. "I''m sure it''s nothing like that," he insisted in a tone that oozed sincerity. "And I''d appreciate a guide."

    ''Especially if it keeps any other city guards from trying to kick me out.''

    "Sure thing. Be right back!" Nell flicked an ear and jogged back across the square, dodging through pedestrians and past a handful of carts.

    "I''m not going to wake up in an alley missing my coin purse, am I?" Aytin asked once the guard was out of earshot.

    White gave him a conspiratorial smile and shook his head. "Nah, Nell''s a good one. She really is after that referral, though. It''s how a lot of places around here drum up business."

    "I figured, and I really don''t mind." The wrap was almost gone and Aytin savored the last bite before going back to the water dipper to wash it down. "And that was delicious. Are you usually around here?"

    "Most days. If it ain''t me, it''s one of my kids."

    "Then I''ll definitely be back here again."

    "Glad to hear it!"

    Nell was returning, and Aytin waved goodbye to the stall keeper as he walked over to meet her. Then he followed half a step behind as she led him up a wide street.

    The crowds were heavy, at least to someone who had never been to a city before. Even the towns that Zegel had passed through on the way here couldn''t compare. It was like walking through a busy corridor that never seemed to end. Some pedestrians moved with a purpose, others stopped at random or changed directions on a whim.

    "Is it always like this?" Aytin asked as another passerby jostled his shoulder.

    Nell turned slightly and gave him a confused look. "Like what?"

    "Everyone out here. Is there some festival?"

    The guard blinked and then laughed. "You really are from the frontier, aren''t you?"

    "Uhh..."

    "No, it''s alright," she assured him with a smile. "I remember when I first landed here. Everyone I ever knew up to then could have been thrown in one tenement with room for a couple more keeps.

    "Now, you''ll probably want to be wherever you''re going by early evening. That''s when the crowds will come out so thick that you''ll need to pull in your wings to keep them from getting crushed."

    "Good to know." He didn''t quite believe the answer. ''Probably an exaggeration. There''s no way that many people could live here.'' He''d find out one way or another soon, though.

    "So," Nell said after a moment''s pause, "if you were just out on the frontier, do you have any news?"

    Aytin raised an eyeridge. "What kind of news?"

    Her expression changed slightly, getting more serious before she asked, "How bad is it out there, really? I''ve heard things, but half of it''s obviously made up, and the rest can''t all be right."

    "Well, I certainly didn''t have an easy time of it out there." Aytin wasn''t sure how much of his story he wanted to share with a random guard, even if she was being helpful. But she wasn''t going to be satisfied with something so vague, so he settled for a small piece. "Brigands attacked us during the trip. Injured our dragon and we ended up wintering in the back of beyond."

    Nell let air hiss through her teeth in surprise. "Damn, no shit?"

    "No shit."

    "What about darklings?" she pressed. "I''ve heard half the keeps out on the frontier have been overrun."

    "No darklings, and thank the gods for that," Aytin said. "None of the keeps I passed though this spring had seen any, either. Well, one drove off a patrol last fall. Nothing since then."

    "Well, that''s good to hear. The way some people talk, you¡¯d think there''s an armada of darklings and shadow drakes massing the next island over."

    Aytin glanced around at the buildings. The city was a far cry from a defensible keep. Walls of thin wood with doors and wide windows. The latter seemed to have become more common as they had walked, with some of the clearest glass that he had ever seen.

    They had definitely entered a slightly more upscale area. Not that the last place had been poor or anything. There just seemed to be more money here. And that was made doubly clear with the pointed glances various dragonettes were sending his way. Without an escort, he had no doubt that his reception would have been considerably less friendly.

    "Say," Nell asked, drawing Aytin''s attention back to the conversation. "You didn''t happen to fly through Vulcha, did you?"

    He shook his head. "Can''t say that I''ve ever heard of it. Why?"

    "It''s where I grew up. I still have a couple of cousins there I keep in touch with. Just a few letters a year. It''s only... well, I haven''t heard from them since fall."

    "Sorry. I can''t really help there." Aytin shrugged. "Vesper - she was the trader I flew back with - she said that things have been crazy this season. It could just be that a dragon hasn''t flown through yet."

    "Yeah." The guard nodded to herself. "Yeah, that''s probably it." She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anything.

    Nell shook herself, then came to a sudden stop and cursed. Looking back the way they had come, she pointed a few doors back. "There, see, even I almost missed it!"

    The sign really wasn''t obvious. Just the name, Citadel Needleworks, carved into a plank of stained wood with a stylized engraving of needle and crenelated tower in one corner. It was neat, clean, and subdued. The sort of sign for a place that didn''t need to attract customers.

    ''A bit strange that Xantha of all people would know about this place. Reed, sure, but not the sort of place mercenaries or trader crew would shop.''

    Nell insisted on walking him up the stairs to the second story entrance. A white-painted door was flanked by windows that looked into the shop floor. Shirts, dresses, trousers, suits, jackets, and all manner of accessories hung from racks. One well dressed dragonette stared out at him, obviously perplexed at the rough looking person at their door.

    Aytin felt just a little hesitant going inside. Not because of how he looked. No, it was just a feeling. He still remembered the conversation he''d had with Xantha, nearly half a year before. Back when he still thought of her as a friend and mentor. Before he knew the truth.

    They had talked about his plans. The capital, and what he would do when he got there. She''d joked about going to a Tonselra match, and gave him the recommendation for this very tailor. All the while, she knew, knew that none of them would ever get there.

    ''Well, I''m here now. I made it. After everything you did, everyone you hurt and betrayed and murdered to try and stop me, I still made it.''

    Aytin opened the door and walked inside.

 Spring Special: Aytins Cultivating Adventure

    Despite the rain pouring down on the capital, Aytin was optimistic. He''d actually made it. Wild beasts, unfriendly forests, impossible flights, and bloodthirsty brigands. Nothing had managed to stop him in the end.

    He had a smile on his face as he stepped out onto the street.

    And was immediately hit by an out of control cart.

    There wasn''t any time to realize what had happened. One moment, walking. An instant of terrible pain later, nothing.

    Well, not exactly nothing. Instead of rising up to one of the god gates, there was only a formless grey void surrounding him.

    Fortunately, he didn''t have to wait long for answers.

    "Well, look at you. Coming so far, only to falter on the last wingbeat."

    "What?" Aytin asked the mysterious voice. Or tried to. He found that he couldn''t move his mouth. Or anything, really.

    Somehow, the voice heard his silent question, because it answered, "No sense putting it off. You''re dead."

    "Dead?! But I-"

    "Had so much to live for. Mother, sister, mate. Yes, yes, I know. And you''ve had quite the interesting last few months. That''s the important part."

    Aytin was reeling as much as a spirit could reel. Which wasn''t much. The whole thing is kind of difficult without a body.

    "Now that all of that is out of the way," the mysterious voice continued. "We can get on with why you''re here. Now, a few gods have laid claim to your soul, so I suppose you could go to one of those. But the universe has gotten out of balance lately what with pulling people from other realms in. Even turning them into dragonettes doesn''t help balance the ledgers."

    "I don''t understand. Other kingdoms?"

    "More than that. Doesn''t matter," the entity said, brushing off the question. "My point is, some souls have to go the other direction. So how would you like to be reincarnated in another world?"

    "Can''t I just go back home?" There was a hint of pleading in Aytin''s disembodied voice as he thought about all the people he might never see again. Lin. Faelon. Rina.

    "Can''t do that, kid. Unless you find your own way back."

    He latched onto that last bit. "So there''s a way home?"

    "Sure. We''ll go with that. So are you in? Yes or no?"

    He didn''t even have to think. "Yes."

    "Excellent. Now get ready. Oh, and I almost forgot," the voice added, almost as an afterthought. "There aren''t any dragonettes in this realm, so you get to enjoy being a human."

    "What''s a hu-"

    The question was cut off by a flash of lightning and the sensation of being stuffed into clothes far too small. An instant later, Aytin once again had eyes to open.

    It was... different. The stone walls around him seemed perpetually out of focus. But he could see more. He had never noticed before, but his muzzle had always been in the way. When he reached down, he felt clawless fingers stroke a hide far rougher than what he was used to. A flick of the tongue discovered rows of flat teeth, the sort in a deer''s mouth.

    There was a pool of water nearby. He scrambled over to it, only to reveal a hideous monster staring back at him.

    A flat, hornless face with black hair on top and a single mound in the center. Skin closer to the color of sand than a proper white or blue. His legs were missing the lower joint and his feet were wrapped in a contrivance of leather and wood. The rest of his body was shrouded by a robe of crimson, but even without being able to see his back, his worst fears were confirmed.

    This form had no wings.

    ''Not again! After everything, I''m crippled again!''

    Another terrible, horrible thought struck him. He reached down and pulled at the white belt around his robes before taking a hesitant glance, followed by a sigh of relief. He still had those bits, at least, even if they were flapping about without any protection.

    Maybe the fact that it looked a little bigger than before was compensation for that. Whatever, he still would rather be in his old body.

    That god - because it must have been a god - it had said there was a way home. But what was the point if he looked like this?!

    ''Maybe if there''s a way home, there''s a way to fix myself, too. That voice said something about turning beings into dragonettes. So it can be done!''

    But where to start?

    Until then, he had been too preoccupied to notice, but the square was full of people. More ugly flightless flat-faced beings. Humans. Some even had skin as black as a darkling''s, but no one seemed to care. He still avoided those as he made his way over to a rather large knot of them.

    One of them seemed to be in charge. Tall, with a white robe and snowy hair, this human certainly looked respectable.

    "Excuse me," Aytin said.

    "What''s this?" the human demanded in a masculine voice, whirling to face him. He had a massive construction of that white hair around his lips, coming to points below and to either side of his mouth. One hand brushed along it as he took an aggressive step towards the reincarnated dragonette. "You dare interrupt Kung Pow?! Leader of the great Ding Dong Sect?!"

    Aytin''s eyes went wide and he shook his head. "No, why would-"

    "You think I am wrong to discipline this uncouth wench?" His hand shot out to point at another human, this one in a tan robe that held two massive protuberances over the chest.

    Strangely, while other humans had similar, smaller growths, this one also had a pair of ears poking through red hair and a bushy tail curling around one leg. They reminded Aytin of those of a fox more than anything, and even he could tell they seemed out of place on this creature.

    Still, it wasn''t his business and Aytin tried to defuse the situation. "Look, I-"

    "You challenge me?" The man threw his head back and let out a braying laugh, followed by a number of similarly dressed men in the crowd. "Know that on any other day I would destroy you where you stand for such impertinence. But the tournament rules are in effect, so your just humiliation will have to wait until we meet in the ring."

    With that, the crazy man spun and strutted off, a dozen more humans lining up behind him. Slowly, the rest of the crowd dispersed, leaving a confused Aytin alone with the fox-like human.

    "Oh, thank you so much!" Her voice made it clear that this was a woman, and she threw arms around him and pulled him against the large, pillowy masses on her chest. They nearly smothered him, this body being just as short as his original compared to those around him. "Kung Pow has been harassing me for so long, but you stopped him! You''re so brave! Oh, thank you!"

    "You''re, uh, welcome?"

    "No one''s ever stood up to Kung Pow before. He''s so powerful, after all, and controls the Ding Dong sect, too. But whoever you are, I can just tell you''re an even greater cultivator!" she gushed.

    "My name is Aytin. And I''m not a farmer."

    The fox-woman just laughed. "Oh, that''s funny, Aytin. Of course you''re not a farmer. Farmers can''t use the energy of the world to refine their souls and gain powers!"

    ''Energy of the world?''

    Tentatively, Aytin closed his eyes and tried to feel. At first, all he felt was like an idiot. But then there was... something.

    DING!

    A sudden chime caused him to jerk. As he opened his eyes, letters appeared:

    CONGRATULATIONS!

    THROUGH HARD WORK AND DEDICATION YOU HAVE BEGUN ON THE PATH OF THE CULTIVATOR

    YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 1 OF TIER F

    YOU HAVE 1 SKILL POINT(S) TO ASSIGN

    Below the words were cryptic columns of words and numbers with symbols hovering nearby.

    STRENGTH: 7

    DEXTERITY: 11

    ENDURANCE: 7

    INTELLIGENCE: 12

    KI: 10

    LUCK: 15

    Hesitantly, he poked at the button next to STRENGTH. It flashed for a moment before the number increased. Then the words faded from view. An instant later, he felt his muscles bulge slightly before relaxing.

    "Oh, I felt that! You just ascended, didn''t you?" the fox-girl asked, peering at his arms. She even reached out a finger to brush across the exposed flesh. "Ooh, you must be so powerful to hide your power level like that. I can barely sense you, and I''m mid-B tier."

    Aytin tried not to flinch away from the contact. This skin felt strange compared to hide and scales. And everything was so strange and overwhelming. He took a deep breath and shook his head to clear it before asking, "Okay, but... well, who are you?"

    "Kit! Kit Sune!" She grinned broadly, exposing ivory teeth quite a bit sharper than the ones in his own new mouth. "I''m a fox-kin, if you hadn''t noticed. Kung Pow hates all beast-folk, which is why he was harassing me. He''s going to be so shocked when you beat him into the dirt at the tournament."

    "So, Kit. I''m not exactly from around here. Just passing through, trying to get home. What tournament is this?"

    Her eyes went wide. "You''re not entered?! Oh, no! We have to get you signed up! Come on!"

    Before Aytin could protest, Kit grabbed his hand and literally dragged him out of the square. He tried briefly to escape the grip, but it was like being held by steel manacles.

    The fox-kin didn''t seem to notice. She just kept up a running commentary. "The qualifiers are all over, so you won''t be able to get in the normal way. But some of the contenders do exhibition matches. Beat one of them and you''ll get their spot."

    There was a small doorway in the side of one building, and she arrowed towards it. Just inside, she consulted a clipboard and flashed one of her smiles. "You''re in luck! There''s an opening for a match coming up, and I know the other guy. He''s just a B-tier, maybe Level 7."

    Aytin thought for a moment. "And what''s Ding Dong?"

    "Oh, he''s a Jade Falcon SS-tier Level 2. But I bet you''re much higher than that. Probably Striking Dragon SS-tier, and at least Level 5, am I right?"

    "What if I told you I''m a Level 1 F?"

    Her laugh rang bright and clear. "Oh, that''s funny! I''ve never heard of anyone older than ten still in the F-tier. Most teens are in the D or even C-tiers." She scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to an attendant as she spoke. "Good thing you''re not, because I don''t think an F-tier could survive even one punch from a B-tier. Now come on! If we hurry, we can see the match before yours!"

    Once again, Kit dragged him along, this time to an open air stadium sporting a few hundred seats. Maybe half of them were filled with people, mostly humans although a handful sported the animal traits of beast-kin. The crowd started cheering as two muscled men jumped over the low wall and onto a raised central platform.

    They both stood opposite of one another as the stadium quieted. A massive gong rang out.

    And then they just stood there.

    ''What?''

    But something was happening. Golden light seemed to collect around the pair, intensifying by the second. Hair started to move like it was caught in a gale. Muscles bulged to impossible sizes and kept growing. Women in the crowd swooned as shirts ripped, revealing tanned and oiled pectorals and abs like a washboard road.

    Suddenly, there was a blur. The fighters had moved faster than the eye could see. And now one of them was laying on the floor, screaming in agony as he reached towards his missing arm. The victor laughed, and kicked the dismembered limb into a crowd that roared in approval.

    "Did you see that?!" Kit shouted over the cheers. "I thought it was going to be over in the first punch, but that dodge! And then he stopped the roundhouse kick with just one finger! Amazing!"

    Aytin hadn''t seen any of that. Not even a blur. And Kit was still gushing as she described the supposed fight in unbelievable detail.

    "I''m supposed to be fighting... him?" He managed a spasmodic jerk towards the fighter who was flexing for the crowd.

    "Oh, no, don''t be stupid!" Aytin breathed a sigh of relief before Kit continued. "Those are just a couple of C-tier yucks. I told you, you''re facing a B-tier. Of course it should be a snap for someone as strong as you, so try and tone things down to keep it interesting."

    He could only nod, dumbly. ''I''m going to die. Again. I''m going to die again.''

    Desperately, he hunted for that feeling from before, when he had gotten that strange text. It was there, but he could only feel a trickle. A little more came from the energy of the screaming crowd. And even a bit from the wind on his face.

    A little sunlight spilled through the roof of the building. Out of desperation, Aytin stuck a hand into the beam and prayed.

    ''Gods of light, please help me.''

    Nothing answered. Only, there might just be another way.

    He took a step over, so that he was standing in a ray of sunlight. The warm glow was far from its usual comfort given the situation, but maybe...

    DING!

    It worked!

    DING!

    DING!

    DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING!

    The sound of bells was deafening. Like he had stuck his head into a bag of nails and shook it. As suddenly as it started, it was over and more of that strange text was floating in front of him.

    CONGRATULATIONS!

    THROUGH HARD WORK AND DEDICATION YOU HAVE ASCENDED ON THE PATH OF THE CULTIVATOR

    YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 9 OF TIER B

    YOU HAVE 134 SKILL POINT(S) TO ASSIGN

    YOU HAVE 3 PERK(S) TO CHOOSE

    Next to that one, there was a long list of words and phrases that made no sense. What did "Power Fister of Heavenly Might" mean? Or "Purified Mouth of Infinite Pleasure"?

    There were more new notifications as well.

    AS THE FIRST CREATURE SINCE THE INCEPTION OF THE SYSTEM 5569 YEARS AGO TO CULTIVATE THE POWER OF THE SUN, YOU HAVE GAINED THE LIGHT TOUCHED PERK

    Finally, beneath everything else was the cryptic statement of:

    LEVEL CAP REACHED. YOU MUST PURIFY YOUR SOUL TO ASCEND FURTHER

    Before he had a chance to try and understand what was happening, Kit was waving him forward. "Come on! You''re up!"

    "Wait, I just-"

    But she cut him off. "You''ll be fine! As long as you''re not late!"

    There was no time. Aytin tapped three perks at random and then swiped a hand across the skills. Before he had a chance to see what had happened, the words disappeared and he nearly stumbled at the sudden rush. Suddenly drunk on every drop of alcohol he''d ever tasted but still more lucid than he''d ever been. It was an incredible feeling that made him want to fall to his knees and climb the tallest tower and find Rina to... Well, he felt really, really good.

    When he regained his senses, he realized that he was already in the ring. Across from him, a shirtless, tattooed monster of bulging muscles looked down on him with an evil grin.

    "I''m gonna enjoy making you scream, little meat," he growled, somehow audible over the crowd''s renewed cheering. "Gonna pull your limbs off one by one, then use that purdy little mouth to-"

    The ring of a gong interrupted the monologue and the muscled hulk gave a completely unapologetic shrug before rushing towards Aytin, arms spread wide in a parody of a hug.

    Aytin could fight with a bow and a spear. He''d been in a few fights as a kid, and there had been a little training during his summer with Stonar. That wasn''t enough to prepare for something like this.

    LEAF ON THE SUPREME DIVINE BREATH OF A STOOPING CRANE''S WING PERK ACTIVATED. DODGE CHANCE MAXED AT 99% THANKS TO DEXTERITY OF 99

    Somehow, Aytin slipped through the grasping fingers.

    "Oh no you don''t!"

    The next swipe missed. Then the next. And the one after that. Not a single one of the flurry of blows so much as ruffled Aytin''s hair.

    Now panting, the behemoth glared at his diminutive opponent. "Slippery little bastard, are ya? And what do you think that''s gonna get you? Think you can hurt me?"

    Well, why not?

    Hoping that human anatomy was similar across the board, Aytin aimed a punch right at the man''s crotch.

    DEXTERITY OF 99 MORE THAN 20 POINTS GREATER THAN OPPONENT''S 40. FURIOUS LIGHTNING BOLT FROM A WIND-STREAKED SKY PERK ACTIVATED

    His fist shot past the frantic block and landed with the sound of a dragon tearing off a deer haunch. Bones cracked and the goliath''s eyes suddenly widened as his mouth puckered and the beginning of an unmanly shriek issued forth.

    Aytin''s next punch slammed into his nose, shattered it, and sent what was left of the man tumbling out of the ring.

    "That was... easy."

    Incredibly easy. Frighteningly easy. Stupidly easy.

    The crowd loved it, though. They were cheering their heads off, pounding hands and feet as an announcer jumped up on the stage to raise a still somewhat confused Aytin''s hand.

    More staff gathered around the twitching form of his opponent, who was somehow still alive. They rolled him onto a massive litter and unceremoniously dragged him out of the stadium.

    Distracted, he only caught the end of the lean, gaudily dressed man''s speech. "-and with his victory, Aytin has secured his spot in the Grand Tournament as well as the prize of a Mercuric Ginger Pill of Body Purification!" At those words, he pressed a small container into Aytin''s free hand.

    No sooner had he been released than Kit was there. She threw her arms around him and pulled him close to her well cushioned chest as she let out a keening cry of excitement.

    "AAAAAAA! Oh, Aytin, you were so amazing! He didn''t even touch you! Oh, I knew I you could do it because you''re so brave and strong and han-"

    "You will teach me, Senpai!"

    The harsh but still feminine voice cut through the moment. Suddenly, a new woman was in front of Aytin, this one actually shorter than he was. Her jet-black hair was cut short, and like Kit she had a pair of pointed ears sticking through the top. But unlike the other woman, this one''s tail was long and sleek instead of thick and bushy. It thrashed back and forth as she stared him down.

    "My name is Ny-anne! You defeated my master! That makes you stronger! You''ll teach me instead!"

    "I... wha?" It wasn''t a request. It was an order, backed by utter conviction. An order that had come out of nowhere.

    "You will teach me, Senpai!" she repeated. "It''s your duty!"

    "What duty? I didn''t agree to this!"

    But Kit was shaking her head. "You crippled her master. That means it''s your duty to complete her training."

    "I''m a Stalking Tiger B-tier cultivator and you will teach me your ways!"

    "And I''m not a teacher!" None of this made sense! He didn''t regret dying - not quite, at least - but if everyone was like this, then he might need to find another cart to step in front of.

    Not that it would probably do anything at this point. Not after whatever had happened. This cultivation thing. It felt confusing and arbitrary and he had no clue how it worked. If anything, he needed a teacher.

    ''What had those words called them? "Stats?" What did I even do with them?''

    As if summoned by the thought, the words reappeared in front of him.

    STRENGTH: 30 x 2.85 = 85

    DEXTERITY: 34 x 2.85 = 99

    ENDURANCE: 27

    INTELLIGENCE: 12

    KI: 17

    LUCK: 57

    Underneath, there was another cryptic line:

    STRENGTH AND DEXTERITY ARE HIGHEST SKILLS. BOTH ARE MULTIPLIED BY LUCK DIVIDED BY 20 THANKS TO THE INNER PEACE OF THE MOST PERFECT SAGE OF LIGHT PERK

    Well, that seemed... broken. At least combined with those other ones that had shown up during the battle. The ones with the other weird names that let him dodge everything and hit with his own attacks. His own frantic swipes had somehow given him the perfect abilities. Imagine that!

    He did frown at the entry for Intelligence. A 12 seemed low. He''d have to fix that if he could. Maybe then he could understand this insane world.

    "Have you finished examining me yet, Senpai?!" The demand broke Aytin''s concentration and the words in front of him dissolved.

    "I wasn''t-"

    "Oh, check my stats next!" Kit called, tail swishing behind her in joy. "I''m a Slinking Vixen B-Tier cultivator. And already level 8!"

    "Impossible!" Ny-anne declared. "I''m only a level 4! Unless... You must be a truly gifted teacher! I am honored to study under you Sensei!"

    He might have won his battle against the giant, but Aytin realized he was going to lose this one. The only question was how badly.

    "Fine. I''m just passing through this place, but you can tag along until I leave, I guess."

    Ny-anne gave a firm nod. "And I shall accompany you once you leave as well!"

    "Nothing in this city for me, either!" Kit said with a grin.

    "Okay. Sure. Whatever." Arguing was truly pointless. That much was clear. Better to go wherever the winds took him. "Is there someplace I can just get a map or something? I really want to get out of this city."

    The Fox-kin nodded. "You can get anything in the central bazaar." She pointed along the wide avenue. "Only, you can''t leave the city."

    "And why''s that?" Aytin asked, already taking long, purposeful strides in the indicated direction.

    "If you try and back out of Master Kung Pow''s challenge, the entire Ding Dong sect will come after you and ritualistically murder you to death."

    She explained it so matter-of-factly that the ex-dragonette stopped and stared. "They''ll what?"

    "They would deservedly kill you for being a cowardly oath breaker!" Ny-anne confirmed. "But you would never do any such thing!"

    Aytin tried to rub the base of his horns, only to grab a handful of that long fur that grew atop humans'' heads. He clenched it and pulled. The pain helped keep him sane. "I never accepted any challenge!"

    "Your insult was challenge enough."

    "How? How did I insult him? I was perfectly polite and he acted like I slapped him!"

    The fox-girl nodded sagely. "Of course. Had you not been perfectly polite he would have been in his rights to try and kill you where you stood. When you interfered on my behalf, his only recourse was to treat it as a challenge. Most humans look down on us beastkin because they think we''re wonton and uncivilized, but I admit the Ding Dong sect is worse than most."

    Aytin cocked his head at the woman and then took in the crowd. They all looked pretty much the same to him. Mostly the differences came down to the color and length of their head-fur and whether or not they had those chest-lumps. At least he was beginning to realize those were what distinguished men from women among this race.

    He really wished they had horns or snouts or scale patterns. The sort of thing someone could use to actually tell one person from another.

    "So, what is it about you, uh, beastkin that gives people that idea?"

    Both of the women''s eyes widened in shock. Ny-anne was the first to recover. "You are from a far off land indeed, Sensei! There must be no cat-kin such as myself there!"

    "No. You''re the first I''ve met."

    "And am I your first fox-kin?" At Aytin''s nod, Kit let out a high pitched noise and jumped up and down, clapping her hands. "Wow, your land must be amazing!" Suddenly, she turned serious and put a finger to one lip in thought. "Well, our reputation is just how things are. Despite the beastkin outnumbering humans, having natural physical advantages, a cohesive identity, and access to our own powerful cultivation techniques, we''re still an oppressed underclass."

    "Really?"

    "It''s extremely logical!" Ny-anne agreed. "Cat-kin can see in the dark! We have claws!" She somehow extended razor sharp talons from her fingertips. "We smell and hear almost as well as the dog kin! Our families are large and we reach adulthood quickly! Of course we can''t stand up against humans!"

    Aytin thought for a moment, then nodded. "That makes perfect sense." Really, it was the first thing in this new world that he wasn''t going to question at all. "So what do we do now?"

    "Find somewhere to sleep?" Kit asked, glancing through the buildings at the dipping sun.

    "Yes! I know an excellent inn!" Ny-anne immediately strode forward, tail lashing as she led them along the street. Once more, Aytin found it easier just to follow than to try and stop it.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Soon the street widened into a proper square. Every single cobblestone was covered in stalls, with men and women shouting over each other to make their wares known. Half of the stuff was unrecognizable. Most of the rest represented a king''s ransom in wealth. Piles of books, fine steel weapons and armor, exotic spices, flowing silk clothes, porcelain tableware as thin as a scale. All of it out for the world to see.

    Other stalls had no goods. Plenty were food vendors doing a brisk business with the dinner crowds. One they passed by was clearly some sort of game with a fat human in colorful red garments calling out to passers-by and spinning a cane, while a woman in a metal collar stood nearby, a smile fixed on her lips. That collar was just about all she was wearing, revealing strategic patches of fluffy wool to go with her tubular ears, flat nose, and curly snow white hair.

    As they passed by the game booth, the crowds parted. Standing in their path was yet another white robed human. His head and facial fur was jet black and he sneered down at Aytin from nearly the height of Master Kung Pow.

    "Ha! You''re the one who insulted the great Ding Dong Sect? Pitiful. I would crush you under my heel except the stench of a beastkin lover would ruin a perfectly good pair of shoes."

    Aytin was going to ignore the insult, but Ny-anne stepped forward. "If he wasn''t bound by the rules of the tournament, my Sensei would gag your dishonorable mouth with your own severed limbs!"

    "Ha! Hiding behind the tournament rules and a filthy beastkin. As if a coward like him-" The man looked at Aytin like week-old leavings at the bottom of a chamber pot. "Could hope to beat me at so much as a children''s card game!"

    "Oh, really?" Kit stepped up, nearly blocking the man from view. "How about that one?" She pointed at the nearby game stall. "Anything you care to wager besides your pride?"

    The unnamed Ding Dong sect member paused for a moment, taken aback. Then he grinned. Striding over to the booth and reaching into his robes, he withdrew a bulging purse. It fell with a thump onto the wooden table, and a handful of glittering gold coins spilled out. "What a glorious day. Not only will I hand your master his first humiliation, but I will become rich as well!"

    The gold on the table was more than Aytin had ever seen. That one sack could have bought Faelon''s entire cargo several times over. And now he realized that besides his crimson robes, he didn''t have so much as a bent copper to his name.

    "Well, coward? I''m waiting. Of course, if you can''t pay then I win by forfeit. I''ll take one of your slaves as my prize." He leered at Kit, licking his lips.

    "I, uh, I don''t have that much on me at the moment. If you give me some time-"

    If she was disturbed by the sect member''s display, Kit didn''t show it. She just grinned and shook her head. "Just use the Mercuric Ginger Pill of Body Purification!" she suggested. "It''s not like you need it, being well past the B-tier after all. It''s only good for breaking into the A-ranks."

    "Right. Of course." Aytin fished out the box and set it on the counter as his challenger frowned slightly.

    Ny-anne stared at the pile of gold, then the small white pill before pronouncing, "This bet is uneven! Fix it!"

    "Really? I''ll only have to pick them up again." When the cat-kin''s glare failed to dim, the annoyed sect member sighed and reached into his robes once again. He withdrew two more bulging sacks of gold, which he dropped next to the first. "Will that be sufficient?"

    After a critical look at the fortune on display, she replied, "Only barely!"

    "Then let the challenge commence!"

    The gamemaster''s smile was nearly as wide as his belly, exposing lines of flat, white teeth. "Of course, of course! Step inside my tent and we will test your mettle! Skill! Poise! Determination! And more!"

    With a flourish, he pulled two embroidered sheets from the table. The revealed piles of oddly shaped stone blocks.

    "Stack as many of these as you can, as high as you can. Reach the mark and you''ll win a prize to go with your wager!" He tapped a red hash on a tentpole just below the fabric ceiling.

    That shouldn''t be any problem. With his newfound skills, Aytin''s hands moved with the precision a master craftsman could only envy. He flexed his fingers and stepped up to the pile.

    "Of course, this is a test of your personal ability. Not your prowess at cultivation. So I''ll just be turning this negation stone on." The rotund man tapped a green crystal that started to glow.

    Instantly, a tremor ran through Aytin''s hands. He felt the power drain away. His opponent noticed the sudden expression of fear that crossed his face and grinned evilly, cracking knuckles and letting forearms honed by years of hard training bulge.

    "Aaaaaand... begin!"

    The sect member was already hard at work before the gamemaster finished flipping his hourglass.

    Aytin picked up his first block. It was smooth, white stone, cool to the touch and shaped like a flat-topped arch. As good a base as any. Better than one of the rounded shapes that seemed to make up a good half of the pile.

    ''It''s just stacking stones. Come on, you''ve done this before.''

    It had been a while, though. The last time had to have been back in the fall, when he had first been exploring his magic.

    ''I wonder...''

    Experimentally, he reached into himself and tried to channel his personal magic, his innate sense of balance. For a moment there was nothing, and then he felt his posture shift ever so slightly.

    Aytin grinned.

    Half of the sand had already flowed through the hourglass when Aytin set down his first block. He did it with quick assurance, followed by another and another. His tower grew at an astounding rate. The shape or even orientation of the blocks didn''t seem to matter. Whichever one ended up in the reborn dragonette''s hand went onto the stack and stuck like it was glued.

    This was far beyond what he used to be able to do. Whether it was his new body or the cultivation thing, something had enhanced his personal magic to mythical levels.

    On the other side of the table, the Ding Dong Sect member turned away from a respectably sized tower only to see Aytin place the final block of his own masterpiece. It sat just a finger''s breadth from the fabric above.

    "No! Impossible!" the young man screeched. In desperation, he slammed a fist onto the table hard enough to set it shaking. His own tower shuddered. A block fell with a loud clunk, and then like a dragon with a crippled wing, the rest came tumbling to the ground.

    Aytin''s own tower still stood proudly above.

    His challenger fell to his knees in shock. "I am disgraced! My honor is no more for I have lost to this beastkin lover!"

    A crowd had gathered around to watch the spectacle. Every one of them pointed and laughed as the sect member pushed himself to his feet and tried to run. One shoe caught in a cobblestone, tearing it off and sending him stumbling. It had a sole taller than Aytin''s hand. Soon, the fleeing man kicked off the other, revealing that he was not much taller than the man he had challenged. His cries of shame echoed through the market long after he disappeared from sight.

    "AAAAAA! That was amazing!" Kit squealed as she threw her arms around him. "I knew you could do it!"

    "You made him think he had a chance before grinding him into the dirt! A fine lesson! And fine rewards!" Ny-anne looked towards the bags of gold on the counter in appraisal.

    "Congratulations, sir!" The gamemaster had already pocketed his share of the wager, and the expression of pleasure was clear even on his flat, un-draconic face. "And I''m pleased to inform you that you''ve won the grand prize!" He handed over a fine metal chain, attached to the sheep-kin''s collar.

    "She''s been a fine piece of eye-candy, but I suppose this is as good a time as any to get a newer model. Not that there''s much mileage on this one if you catch my drift." He gave Aytin a wink and a nudge with one elbow.

    "Uh... yeah." The slave was staring at Aytin''s feet, head bowed and arms crossed over her chest. She didn''t look like she''d be any trouble, but... "What was her crime?"

    "Crime?!" The gamemaster looked offended. "Oh, I would never buy a filthy criminal as a slave. She was born a slave, nice and submissive and well trained. Here''s her command rod, not that you''ll need it." He passed over a steel rod with a single button on the tip. "Have a nice day!"

    Of course this world would also have chattel slavery. His home sure didn''t. Only criminals were forced to work against their will. And people who disagreed with the crown. Or the church. Or ran afoul of the inquisition. Yes, the people toiling away in his family''s mines all deserved it, unlike that poor beastkin.

    "So what do I call you?" he asked his new slave.

    Her eyes didn''t move from the ground. "This one''s last master called her Venli, Sir. But Sir may call her whatever Sir wishes."

    "Ooo-kay. Let''s just go with Venli."

    The sheep-kin gave only the barest nod, still staring at his feet. "How may this one be of service to Sir?"

    "I don''t need a slave. And don''t call me sir. Aytin is fine."

    "Whatever sir wishes."

    He rolled his eyes. "Let''s just get that collar off of you. I can spare some of this gold for you to get set up somewhere on your own. Like I said, I don''t have any use for a slave."

    But Venli only shook her head. "Please, Sir makes a cruel joke. Sir must know that all slave collars are permanent. But if Sir can''t stand the sight of this ugly slave, Sir can always sell this one. This one will do her best to fetch a high price."

    "What? No! I''m not going to sell you!"

    "This one thanks Sir for his kindness." She bowed low. "This one will do her pitiful best to not be a burden."

    "Oh, don''t worry," Kit piped in. "Master Aytin is great! He''s kind and smart and super nice!"

    "And strong!" Ny-anne added. "You will be a great asset to the group!"

    Once more, Aytin pulled on his head-fur in frustration. " Let''s just go get a room. Rooms, I mean. Definitely rooms."

    As it turned out, there was only one room available.

    "Sorry, sir," the innkeeper said. "You''re actually lucky I have anything, but a young man just up and left not ten minutes ago. You''d be hard pressed to find anything else open in the city what with the tournament and everything."

    "If there''s nothing else..."

    There wasn''t. Aytin had to pass over enough gold that he nearly died on the spot, but the girls assured him it was a good deal. In return he got directions to a surprisingly spacious room. There was a small desk, stuffed chair, wash basin, chamber pot, dresser, and bed.

    A single bed.

    A single bed, just wide enough for two people, with a pillow between them.

    "Master Aytin gets the bed, obviously," Kit said. "He shouldn''t have to sleep alone, though."

    Ny-anne nodded firmly. "The strongest of us should share his bed!"

    "Well, that would be me, of course." Kit gave the cat-kin a grin that showed fangs.

    "Numbers don''t mean everything!"

    "Oh, really? Care to find out?"

    "This one has been trained in many subjects," Venli offered. "She is well suited to the role of ensuring that Sir has a most pleasant slumber."

    "Sure, but-"

    Aytin tuned the whole conversation out. He was exhausted. From the fight and getting dragged around and the insanity of it all. Also dying. He was pretty sure that was at least part of it.

    As he laid down, something poked at him. He reached into his robes and withdrew the wooden box with the strange pill in it. As the women debated, he pulled the small white object out, popped it into his mouth, and swallowed.

    Then he shut his eyes and fell quickly and deeply asleep.

    <hr>

    When Aytin awoke, there was a weight on his chest. He tried to reach up and rub the sleep from his eyes, only to realize his hand was pinned as well.

    The girls had apparently come to some sort of agreement regarding the bed, because all of them had crawled atop it at some point in the night. Ny-anne was laying across his feet, and she looked oddly peaceful in sleep. Kit had her head on his stomach, and was curled so the tip of her tail was barely brushing her nose. And Venli lay at his side, an arm across his chest almost possessively.

    He still felt exhausted, but the sun was starting to peek through the window. His own movement was also starting to wake the others. They were beginning to slowly stir and glance around the slowly brightening room.

    Kit yawned loudly, before she stiffened suddenly. "Oh, no, we''re going to be late!"

    Suddenly everyone was leaping to their feet and scrambling around the room, leaving Aytin alone on the bed. He hadn''t bothered undressing the night before, so he just needed to sit up and straighten his robes. But all the women were busy pulling on outfits. Even Venli had managed to find something that gave her a bit more modesty.

    But he had barely put one foot on the ground when he found himself dragged out the door, Kit grasping one hand and Ny-anne the other.

    As they emerged into the morning sunlight, Aytin closed his eyes and opened himself up once again to its power. Within moments, there was a familiar sound.

    DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING!

    He already knew what he would see when he opened his eyes once more.

    CONGRATULATIONS!

    THROUGH HARD WORK AND DEDICATION YOU HAVE ASCENDED ON THE PATH OF THE CULTIVATOR

    YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 9 OF TIER A

    YOU HAVE 54 SKILL POINT(S) TO ASSIGN

    YOU HAVE 1 PERK(S) TO CHOOSE

    LEVEL CAP REACHED. YOU MUST PURIFY YOUR SOUL TO ASCEND FURTHER

    They were moving too fast to focus on his options. He had to look past the screens to navigate through the crowds.

    ''I''ll have some time before the match. What are the chances mine will be the first?''

    They arrived at the stadium and a push from Kit sent him stumbling up to the registration table. "I''m Aytin," he told the bored looking woman manning the booth. "When am I fighting?"

    She consulted a massive leather-bound tome in front of her and then shot a disapproving look his way. "You''re the first match. You should have been here an hour ago. As it is, you''ll forfeit the match if you''re not on the floor in..." She glanced at a clock. "Three minutes. You best hurry. That way."

    Her pointing finger directed them through some of the thickest crowds, and Aytin''s heart fell. Suddenly, Ny-anne was in front of him, yelling at the top of her lungs. "Out of the way! Future tournament champion coming through! If you''re still standing there he''s going to walk right over you so move!"

    The crowd miraculously parted and Kit dragged him forward while Venli followed in their slipstream. Even with the opening, they still only made it just ahead of the deadline. Aytin had no sooner climbed onstage than a gong sounded the start of the tournament.

    His opponent was already waiting for him. Rather than a giant, the human woman of a size with him. Her hair was black as a darkling''s scales, but that was offset by skin so porcelain white that it had to be some sort of makeup. A single crimson flower as red as her lips stuck out from behind one ear.

    She bowed to Aytin, who quickly followed. "I wish you luck," the pale-faced woman said in a quiet soprano that still managed to carry over the cheering crowd.

    "You as well," he said.

    Her lips twitched in the barest smile. "I am Woo Mun, A-Tier Striking Mantis cultivator, and I will not need your luck."

    Suddenly, she was gone. A moment later, she simply appeared in the far corner of the ring. Her hands moved in a blur, making a thousand strikes in a bare second.

    Aytin had been confident going in. The new magic he had been given made it nearly impossible for someone to land a hit on him. Nearly. But even if he could dodge ninety nine out of a hundred, she''d still beat him to a pulp moments after the fight began.

    Right then, he remembered that he had forgotten to assign his new levels. Even as the announcer was raising a mallet to strike the starting gong, he swiped a hand across the floating words, selecting stats and a perk at random.

    Suddenly he felt... weaker? But the world slowed down. His opponent''s shadow boxing went from invisible to merely impossibly fast just as the bell rang.

    LEAF ON THE SUPREME DIVINE BREATH OF A STOOPING CRANE''S WING PERK ACTIVATED. DODGE CHANCE MAXED AT 99% THANKS TO DEXTERITY OF 161

    Aytin managed to dodge Woo Mun''s first strike as she appeared in front of him. And the next. And the next. But she managed to avoid his much slower follow up with ease.

    Soon, a blow landed. As if guided by the gods themselves, a fist slipped past his forearm and landed squarely on Aytin''s jaw.

    He barely felt it.

    Woo Mun, on the other hand, let out a piercing scream and clutched her wrist. Two fingers were pointed at odd angles, clearly broken. It was almost as if she had punched a brick wall.

    Without pausing to think, Aytin advanced and threw a flurry of blows of his own. Most connected, and the breath left her in an oof. Even still, it didn''t seem to hurt as much as her own punch had.

    But he was relentless. Strike after strike. Woo Mun''s defense had been shattered, and he didn''t give her a chance to rebuild it. He forced her across the ring, to the far edge, and with one final punch he sent her flying to the ground below.

    "And the winner by ring out is Aytin! What a match! Simply amazing!"

    The words of the announcer filtered back into the ring as the crowd roared their approval. A pair of attendants in staff uniforms ran up to the fallen woman and put something into her mouth. Moments later her bruises were healed and fingers were back in position.

    Aytin turned his attention to the three women pushing their way through the crowds to get to him. Venli and Kit threw their arms around him in great big hugs while Ny-anne offered a much more reserved bow. "Spectacular match, Sensei!" she offered in congratulation.

    "AAAAA! She didn''t so much as scratch you!" Kit let him go and jumped up and down, clapping.

    "Yeah, I was pretty great, wasn''t I?" Aytin said, finally letting a smile out as he relaxed a fraction. Now that he had a moment, he called up that strange text once more.

    STRENGTH: 41

    DEXTERITY: 46 x 3.5 = 161

    ENDURANCE: 42 x 3.5 + 40 = 187

    INTELLIGENCE: 12

    KI: 20

    LUCK: 70

    ''So that''s why I feel weak. My endurance passed my strength and now the luck bonus goes to it. But there''s something else there, too.''

    He focused on the extra number next to the stat, and new text popped up.

    UNWAVERING FAVOR OF THE BENEVOLENT CELESTIALS PERK CONFERS 2 POINTS OF ENDURANCE PER POINT OF LUCK ABOVE 50

    That meant he was nearly indestructible. And with his sky high dexterity, it would be impossible for most opponents save those like Woo Mun to even touch him, much less dodge his strikes.

    ''But still a 12 for intelligence. Oh, come on! That''s just not funny!''

    Someone suddenly stepped in front of him and knelt. "I was an arrogant fool," Woo Mun declared as she bowed her head. "I let my pride plot my course of action and paid for it. Please, I beg your forgiveness!"

    "Uh, apology accepted?" Aytin offered, dismissing his stats. "Really, it''s fine. Compared to the last guy I fought, you were very polite. Er, and honorable, too."

    "You are very kind to say such things," she said, rising to her feet but keeping her head bowed. "However, I must ask a boon. I have been humbled, and it is only fitting that I should continue to learn from the one who humbled me. Would you consider taking me on as one of your apprentices?"

    Aytin''s first thought was, ''What is with all these people demanding I teach them?! I''m just picking things at random and somehow making myself stupidly powerful! There''s nothing more to it!''

    Out loud, he said, "Let''s discuss that later."

    "Of course, master," Woo Mun said with a bow.

    "No!" Ny-anne practically screamed. "He is my master! He accepted me, first!"

    The human woman was unfazed. "A master as powerful as he has room for more than one apprentice. In fact, I would look forward to studying alongside you and the others. I am sure there is much we can learn from one another."

    That brought the cat-kin up short. "You don''t care that I''m a beastkin?!"

    She shook her head, fractionally. "My adopted family was beastkin. I firmly support equality among the races."

    For the first time since he had met her, Ny-anne looked at a loss for words. "Huh," she finally said. "Okay, then."

    At that moment, an attendant came over and ushered them into the stands. She also handed Aytin a polished wooden box. "Your prize for the first round," she told him. "The Golden Dew Mystical Cherry Blossom. As you know, this allows the user to break the barriers into S-tier."

    She was gone before he could thank her.

    The next match was beginning. An unassuming human in a jet black robe climbed onto the platform. Aytin took an instant dislike to the man, until Master Kung Pow suddenly appeared in the other corner.

    This would be the first time he saw the man who had declared himself to be the reincarnated dragonette''s mortal enemy. He leaned forward, curious.

    A gong rang. The match began.

    Instantly, both challengers'' robes shredded as nimbuses of golden light surrounded them. Only convenient breechcloths survived to protect their modesty, one black and the other white. Their every muscle appeared to have been chiseled from oiled stone, and they glimmered in the brilliance. Neither man moved, but their mouths were both open in rising growls as the glow intensified.

    "Their Ki is so powerful," Kit muttered from nearby. Then she flashed a grin. "I''m sure yours is even stronger, though."

    Aytin could only watch as one side would brighten, then the other would increase in response. It must have gone on for over a minute before the energy coalesced all at once, a blazing second skin that surrounded the competitors.

    In a flash, it was all over. The glow faded from both men. But while Kung Pow stood unblemished, his opponent lay on the floor screaming through a mouth full of shattered teeth. Every joint was bent at an odd angle, with white bone and red human blood seeping out in some places.

    Kung Pow opened one hand, and a wad of something black and fuzzy fell out. With a start, Aytin realized it was the other man''s facial fur, plucked right out.

    "That is how SS-Tier Cultivators fight!" Ny-anne nodded to herself. "One day I will be that strong!"

    Kit beamed. "And I''ll be waiting there for you. With Master Aytin, of course!"

    Aytin had already eaten the cherry blossom that had been his prize, and was hunting around for a ray of sunlight. He found nothing. A bank of clouds had moved in, obscuring the skies.

    It only got worse as he watched the rest of the fights. One went like his, the competitors exchanging flurries of blows. The other followed Kung Pow''s fight, with fighters glowing like demigods as they hammered at each other and even through balls of light that exploded with the force of a blue dragon''s breath.

    All the while, the sun stayed stubbornly behind clouds. Not so much as an errant ray peaked through. ''If I still had my wings, I could just fly above the clouds. Stupid useless human body! Stupid damn magic god-voice!''

    The opening round finished at about noon. Then there was a short intermission as the watchers went off to find food. Aytin got a dozen honey cakes and stuffed them down, hoping they had the same effect on humans as they did dragonettes. No such luck. He merely felt a little fidgety going into his next fight.

    His hopes fell further as he recognized his opponent. The man was average size for a human, but covered in muscles that bulged to ridiculous degrees. In the last match, he had deliberately let the golden energy around him fade to take a punch from the other competitor. It hadn''t left so much as a scratch.

    ''Just a little sunlight. That''s all I need!'' he prayed as the announcer called for them to take their places.

    And something answered. Not a god or the divine voice. Instead, more words appeared in front of his eyes.

    LIGHT TOUCHED PERK ACTIVATED

    Instantly, the clouds parted and a single ray of light bathed him in brilliant sunshine. He didn''t question it. He just closed his eyes and drank it in.

    DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING! GOOONG!

    The match began just as words flashed in front of him.

    CONGRATULATIONS!

    THROUGH HARD WORK AND DEDICATION YOU HAVE ASCENDED ON THE PATH OF THE CULTIVATOR

    YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 9 OF TIER S

    YOU HAVE 63 SKILL POINT(S) TO ASSIGN

    YOU HAVE 1 PERK(S) TO CHOOSE

    LEVEL CAP REACHED. YOU MUST PURIFY YOUR SOUL TO ASCEND FURTHER

    Once again, there was no time to check his options. Aytin swiped a hand across his options. He''d been lucky so far.

    The world exploded into light.

    More than that, he felt something welling up within him. Strength, speed, and raw might, to be sure. But behind all of that, he could sense a rising wellspring. One that felt... familiar.

    Across the ring, his opponent was glowing gold, with bulging muscles straining until his robes shredded in a puff of dust. He put one finger to his forehead and looked Aytin right in the eyes.

    The wellspring erupted. Aytin felt himself shift. And even as the other fighter leapt towards him, radiant fist cocked, he could see the man''s eyes widen in shock.

    CELESTIAL DRAGON HERITAGE PERK ACTIVATED

    Aytin caught the fist.

    He caught it in hands that suddenly sported dark claws erupting from milk-white hide.

    CELESTIAL DRAGON HERITAGE CONFERS THE FORM OF A MESSENGER OF THE DRACONIC GODS. IN ADDITION, IT CONFERS A MULTIPLICATIVE BONUS TO STRENGTH AND DEXTERITY EQUAL TO KI SCORE DIVIDED BY 50 WHILE IN THIS FORM

    With a spin, Aytin slammed his blue-scaled tail into the man. It sent him skidding backwards in a cloud of dust.

    The crowd was utterly silent. No one so much as breathed as the newly shifted dragonette stretched his wings and examined his new form. Not quite the same one that he remembered. He was unscarred as a new hatchling, and his hide was so white that it would have glowed even without the nimbus of power surrounding him. Flexing one arm, the muscles that bulged felt powerful enough to wrestle a dragon. The stats he brought up confirmed it.

    STRENGTH: 49 (x 4.16 = 203)

    DEXTERITY: 50 (x 4.16 = 208)

    ENDURANCE: 51 x 4.0 + 20 = 264

    INTELLIGENCE: 12

    KI: 52 x 4.0 = 208

    LUCK: 80

    He raised one eyeridge at the bare 12 next to intelligence. All the way up to S-tier and he hadn''t been able to add a single point to it. No matter, he had more than enough brawn to make up for lack of brains.

    A cry came from the crowds. "Come on, Aytin! Kick his butt!"

    Kit was on her feet, screaming encouragement. A moment later, the other three women joined it.

    "Grind him into the dirt!"

    "This one knows that Sir can win!"

    "With your new form you can triumph Master Aytin!"

    The crowd regained its voice, some voicing their support for the newly reborn dragonette and others raining down insults. None of it mattered, though, because his opponent had regained his composure as well.

    "You surprised me before," the man said, eyes knitting and stance shifting slightly. "It will not happen again.

    Aytin only grinned in response, revealing a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. Then he blurred forward, leaving an afterimage behind him.

    His opponent raised a block, only to get tackled from above as Aytin dove. "Wings are pretty useful, huh?" he asked the man as he loomed above him. "Horns, too," he added, then slammed them down in a skull-cracking headbutt.

    "Gaaaaahhh!" The scream tore from between lips stained red with human blood, but Aytin wasn''t done. Taloned feet cracked stone as he lifted the human above him with ease. Wings and tail extended for balance, he spun once, twice, three times before releasing the stunned man. He sailed out of the ring to slam into a column. The limp form stuck there for a moment, before slumping and leaving behind a human-shaped series of cracks in the stone.

    Sound erupted from the crowd, cheers and boos in equal measure.

    None of that mattered as Aytin accepted a bottle containing his prize. A heavenly orchid tea of divine light or something. He''d already slammed it down when a new figure practically appeared in front of him.

    "I knew it! You are one of them!" Master Kung Pow raged. "Oh, this will make my victory so much the sweeter when I destroy you!"

    Aytin ignored the shouting. He was already using his powers to call down a beam of sunlight to bathe him in its radiance.

    DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING!

    CONGRATULATIONS!

    THROUGH HARD WORK AND DEDICATION YOU HAVE ASCENDED ON THE PATH OF THE CULTIVATOR

    YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 9 OF TIER SS

    YOU HAVE 72 SKILL POINT(S) TO ASSIGN

    YOU HAVE 1 PERK(S) TO CHOOSE

    LEVEL CAP REACHED. YOU MUST PURIFY YOUR SOUL TO REACH DIVINITY

    The last bit was different than before. ''Divinity, huh? Imagine that. Maybe I''ll be able to tell that voice what I think of this little trip when I''m done with all of this.''

    He was already thumbing his intelligence stat up when Kung Pow grabbed him roughly by the shoulder. "Are you listening to me?!"

    The sudden force surprised Aytin and as he spun around, his hand swiped through the words. He just glimpsed the numbers shifting before the text disappeared.

    Frantically calling it back up, he saw his new stats:

    STRENGTH: 56 (x 9.0 = 504)

    DEXTERITY: 57 (x 9.0 = 513)

    ENDURANCE: 59 x 5.3 + 112 = 424

    INTELLIGENCE: 13

    KI: 85 x 5.3 = 450

    LUCK: 106

    ''A 13?! Really? Really?!''

    He jerked his head up to face the sect leader, who had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Not the outcome you desired? What a shame. But you should know that I am now a Level 9 SS-tier Gilded Eagle cultivator, with the most optimized perks and stats it is possible to have. And once I destroy you in the ring, I take the Platinum Lotus of Divine Understanding to ascend to SSS-Tier and godhood!"

    "You''re not even in the finals yet, and I am. What if you lose your next match?"

    "Watch me."

    He was suddenly in the ring. Another man faced him, expression determined and golden light already shining from his skin.

    Before the gong even finished ringing, it was over. Kung Pow stood over the utterly broken remains of his opponent. A contemptuous sweep of one foot sent the faintly moaning body out of the ring.

    "Now, face me you animal!"

    There was nothing left but to do it. Aytin found it took barely a thought and he appeared in the ring facing the Ding Dong Sect leader. The crowds had split as well. Behind him, he could hear hundreds of voices chanting his name, led by his four friends. On the other side, identically dressed men cursed him and called him all manner of insults.

    "I see the terror in your eyes," Kung Pow sneered. "Those bestial slits can''t hide anything from me. I wonder if I''ll leave one working, so you can watch as I take my prize. Or maybe-"

    "Do you ever shut up?" Aytin stood relaxed, head cocked slightly, and wearing nothing but a conveniently intact breechcloth.

    The sect master''s mouth was still gaping when the gong rang, signalling the start of the final match.

    Stunned he might have been, Kung Pow had trained for decades as a fighter. The sound of a gong had him moving in an instant. He was hurling towards the upstart lizard, arm extended in his signature Dark Raptor Mauls the Innocent Baby Bunny Strike.

    He missed.

    "Impossible!"

    "No, your dexterity is just kind of low," Aytin answered. Then he punched the man. It hit like a star falling from the heavens. "Your endurance, too, looks like. And I''m guessing your strength?" The dragonette reached down and picked him up. He tried to struggle, but it was like he was being held by adamantine chains.

    "You can''t do this! You can''t! You''re an animal!"

    Aytin simply took a few short steps to the side of the ring, and dumped him unceremoniously to the floor.

    "I guess I can."

    His side of the ring exploded into cheers while the Ding Dong Sect side all tore at their head fur and cried lamentations for their fallen leader.

    "Nooooo! It''s not over! Not yet!"

    Aytin gave the best approximation of a human sneer that his draconic face could manage. "Sure it is. You''re out of the ring, I''m not. I win."

    "And you''ll die!''

    Kung Pow''s fingers started moving and his aura flared, then seemed to collapse in on itself.

    "No!" Kit cried from above. "He''s using the Forbidden Technique of Unclean Meridian Fusion!"

    The golden energy darkened, then seemed to somehow glow with pure darkness, sucking in the light. A malevolent cocoon of swirling black formed around the human cultivator. Then it exploded, revealing a creature out of the depths of the watery hells.

    "I''ll destroy you!" the creature that was once Kung Pow cried in a sibilant hiss. Onyx hide covered its body. Fingers were tipped in obsidian claws that match the razor teeth in its jaws. A pair of bat-like wings spread behind the demon, complemented by a thin, whip-like tail. "Destroy you!"

    Aytin only managed to dodge those reaching claws by a scale''s breadth. The backhand that followed sent him spinning. And then the creature was on him.

    Kicking with both feet, the dragonette managed to dislodge his foe. Talons tore great rents in its hide, wounds that oozed a black ichor that smelled of raw sewage and sea demons. They closed an instant later, leaving the hide unblemished. Then it cocked its neck back at an impossible angle before whipping it forward and sending a glob of that black bile right for Aytin.

    He only just managed to dodge. The foul stuff spattered the stands where the Ding Dong Sect supporters still watched in shock. A dozen of them dissolved into steaming piles of sludge as the liquid touched them.

    The demon''s follow up strikes sent Aytin on the defensive. He was faster, barely, but it wasn''t enough. This monster was relentless, unstoppable.

    ''Wait, what was my perk? Did I select a perk?'' With a grunt of effort, Aytin launched himself into the air. It bought him a mere heartbeat of reprieve as the dark monster spread its own wings, but it was enough to summon the strange words once more and stab his finger into one at random.

    GRAND CELESTIAL DRAGON HERITAGE ACTIVATED. ALL STATS EXCEPT INTELLIGENCE RAISED TO 999.

    "WHAT DO YOU MEAN EVERYTHING EXCEPT INTELLIGENCE?!"

    Where there had been a dragonette a moment before, a great red dragon appeared. A perfect copy of Faelon in his prime. Aytin let out a great roar followed by a gout of flames that bathed the corrupted shell of Kung Pow in cleansing fire.

    Then Aytin tucked his enormous wings, angled his body, and descended like a crimson lightning bolt. He hit the ground hard enough to punch through the foundation. And the dark monster beneath his claws popped like a rotten piece of fruit.

    For a moment, he sat there, panting. Then the screams began.

    Screams of joy.

    "AYTIN! AYTIN! AYTIN!"

    Thousands of voices roared their approval. At the front of the crowds were the four women, Kit Sune, Ny-anne, Venli, and Woo Mun. They were all screaming and cheering and waving their arms at him.

    "Congratulations to our new champion, the Cultivator Aytin!"

    The announcer''s voice rose over the excited shrieks, and a scantily clad human woman emerged from a side hall. She had a flower on a silver platter, and she offered it to the dragon.

    Audience members were beginning to throw oddly shaped pieces of cloth at him as Aytin snaked a tongue out to devour his prize. They seemed to be getting them from under their robes, and every single woman had one. They were like two padded cups tied together with rope.

    With little more than a thought, a ray of sun shot through the skies. And one final time, text appeared.

    CONGRATULATIONS!

    THROUGH HARD WORK AND DEDICATION YOU HAVE ASCENDED ON THE PATH OF THE CULTIVATOR

    YOU ARE NOW TIER SSS

    YOUR SOUL HAS REACHED DIVINITY

    He gave a massive, draconic grin at the words. Finally, after everything, he had won!

    Below the text, more words appeared.

    CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR ASCENSION! WOULD YOU LIKE TO RETURN TO LEVEL 1 OF F-TIER BY REFINING YOUR SOUL?

    YOU WILL KEEP ALL PERKS, BUT LOSE ANY ASSIGNED SKILL POINTS PERMANENTLY

    Aytin looked down at the crowds of humans chanting his name. At his adoring fans. And at the four women who had helped him find a place in this new world.

    Fuck all of this shit. I just want to go home!''

    There was a flash of light, the embrace of darkness, and then Aytin opened his eyes and sat bolt upright.

    He was in bed. Sunlight was just peaking through the curtains and he could hear quiet voices from downstairs.

    Raising one hand revealed talon-tipped hands, roughened by months of work outdoors. Another quick check showed scared wings and a tail exactly where they should be.

    "What in the fuck was that?!"