The Blind Dragon Page 12

  Then, in the corner of her eye, Anna saw little Gregory.

  The old messenger dragon was crawling across the flagstones, making his way towards the High Gate, pulling himself over bodies and through the combat. He still wore his leather carrier harness and it looked like his message tube was intact—but his left wing had been broken, a splintered tube of bloody bone spiking at the sky. His right leg was gone too, crushed to a pulp of blood and faded blue scale. The end of his tail had been hacked off. But he was still moving, still trying, crawling towards the Gate with a slow, wobbling little crawl. His little neck strained forward. His old milky eyes were wide. His mouth was open, his tongue hung past his one, yellow tooth. A trail of blood smeared the flagstones in his wake.

  A thunderous explosion and the eastern wall of the Square erupted in an inferno of silvery flames. A cascade of rubble fell inwards and a heavily armored formation of Tevéss soldiers charged into the Square, maroon banners streaming above them.

  There were at least a hundred of them.

  "Tevéss!" they roared as they charged into the plaza. "Lord Gideon!" They crashed into the blue forces of House Dradón that barely managed to turn to meet the new threat.

  Behind the charging Tevéss warriors, in the dark of the walls' breach, Anna saw the massive, silvery maw of an ancient great cannon withdraw into the shadows, its huge bore shaped as a snake's mouth, vile fangs stretching 'round the smoking hole. Another Tevéss squad came through, a dozen big men. This squad was different from the others. They wore ancient plate mail of black iron and carried huge, iron-bound shields. There was something at the squad's center. A flash of deeper maroon. Anna looked closer. A group of five young women, hooded in burgundy robes. The centers of their foreheads were marked by silver Dallanar Suns. Around their necks, they wore silver amulets representing the five tokens of the Great Sisters: the tear, the sword, the book, the scales, and the cornucopia.

  They were Lord Gideon's adepts. Tevéss meant to take the High Gate now, this moment. Dagger growled, his claws scraping stone.

  "For Dradón! For Dávanor!" Master Khondus roared, recognizing the danger.

  "For the Remain!" Master Zar bellowed. "For Lady Abigail!"

  Captain Fyr screamed for blood, and her guardsmen attacked with fury. The men of House Dradón roared and pushed back hard against the Tevéss reinforcements. Master Khondus drew his pistol and fired twice at the sister adepts—but they were too well-protected, his bullets glancing off the heavy armor of their guardians, the ancient mail sparking with deflected force. Master Zar unloaded again with his strange flame weapon, its weird, silvery fire splashing and sizzling over the front line of the Tevéss soldiers, screams of horror and pain flooding their ranks. Then Master Khondus bellowed and launched himself full force into the center of the enemy's line, swinging his hammer in huge, bloody arcs, crushing limbs, bodies, and skulls, his pistol held in his off-hand, waiting for a target. The Tevéss front parted like a wave before him, and House Dradón rallied behind, the roar of battle rising.

  But they couldn't hold, Anna realized.

  Even with Master Khondus's ferocious charge, even with the dreadful damage caused by Master Zar's bizarre weapon, the blue livery of House Dradón was being slowly squeezed between the maroon Tevéss forces already in the High Square and their reinforcements from the breached wall. Five Dradón messenger dragons banked hard, dropping towards the Gate, the pointed arch glowing silvery-white at their approach—but a roar of perfectly coordinated Tevéss gunfire blasted them to smoking pieces, the remains of the dragons' small bodies tumbling and cartwheeling across the flagstones.

  Little Gregory was only about ten paces from the High Gate now. He was stopping to rest more often than he moved. His broken left wing pointed at a freakish angle into the air. And when he did move, Anna noticed, he moved much more slowly. His blue scales, already pale, had taken on an unhealthy, whitish tint.

  The little dragon was bleeding to death, Anna realized.

  He wouldn't make it.

  A few House Dradón squads still struggled near the Gate, but the battle's focus had wholly shifted towards the breach in the eastern wall.

  And the tide was already turning.

  Master Khondus, Master Zar, Captain Fyr, and her men were being slowly pushed back by the Tevéss advance, step by hard-fought step back towards the High Gate.

  When the House Tevéss adepts reached the Square's center, they would take the Gate. When that happened there would be no way to send word to anyone, no way to communicate with the rest of the Realm. No one to send them aid.

  Anna pulled the Tevéss war banner from her saddle bag, swung off Dagger's back, and clipped the banner's brass rondels to her rig's flag hooks so that the maroon standard hung across Dagger's neck and chest. She tugged it twice to make sure it was secure, then remounted and clipped on.

  "Go!" she cried and Dagger launched, knifing hard along the western side of the Square, the maroon banner cracking and snapping, walls blurring beneath them, white wings taut and fast.

  They landed right behind little Gregory with a crunch of stone and claw. Two squads of Tevéss infantrymen turned as one, perfectly disciplined, leveled their weapons at them, but did not fire.

  "You idiots!" Anna sneered, doing her best to mimic their western accent. She pointed at Gregory disdainfully. Automatically, the Tevéss soldiers followed her extended finger. She unhooked and jumped from her saddle, pulling her goggles off her face to glare at them. "This worm has been making its way through our dead for the last ten moments and none of you fools have the presence of mind to crush its skull and take its communication? Great Sisters curse you fools! Who is in 'command' here?"

  A huge, blond sergeant, wearing a thick, maroon headband instead of a helmet, saluted her somewhat skeptically and nodded. "I am." His eyes were pale grey. He searched her uniform for some rank, some sign of authority. His western accent was very thick.

  "What is your name?" she demanded. A bullet buzzed past her ear. She didn't bat an eye.

  "Lodáz," he replied. His pale grey eyes searched her face.

  Anna nodded, bent, and picked up little Gregory as gently as she could without betraying that she cared. His body was barely warm. His head drooped as she lifted him from the flagstones.

  "Lord Gideon wants the messages these dragons carry." She lifted Gregory slightly, showing them the message tube tucked into the leather cache at the little dragon's chest. "You were told to control that Gate and to intercept all missives. What do you fools think this fight is all about?" She lifted her chin at the carnage around them, pushing the western accent as hard as she could to get it right. "If you blast all their messengers to shreds, we will have to waste our time searching the mess for the intelligence Lord Gideon demands. What do you have net guns for? Think, man, think!"

  The big sergeant looked at her uncertainly.

  In her arms, little Gregory trembled and gave a faint squeak.

  The sergeant began, "We were told—."

  "Now!" Anna cried, hurling herself sideways, her arms shielding Gregory's shattered body as she rolled behind an armored corpse.

  Moondagger was ready. He blasted the enemy's center—neck stretched forward, eyes clamped shut, silver-white fury roaring from his mouth—and the Tevéss line melted. Several soldiers tried to roll away, but Dagger tracked them, burning them to slag, hissing blood and metal spattering the flagstones. Some preternatural instinct shrieked in Anna's mind. She jerked her head back. A crossbow bolt hissed past her eyes. A Tevéss crossbowman crouched there, ratcheting his weapon, not ten paces to her right. Hugging little Gregory to her chest, Anna drew her revolver, fired, and blew a hole in his throat. The man fell, and Anna turned to the Gate, holding little Gregory before her. A pair of roaring, lightweight dragons, blue and brown, crashed together into the Square's far colonnade locked in savage melee, flames hissing, claws and fangs streaming blood. Behind her, a horrible scream as someone died. She kept moving. The big Tevéss sergeant, Lodáz,
had dropped flat in an attempt to evade Moondagger's fire, but he'd been too slow. She stepped over his fried body. As she did, the High Gate began to glow with silvery-white radiance. The Gate was responding to Gregory, of course—the primordial songs woven into the ancient message tube at his chest firing the Gate's timeless magics.

  Anna ran forward. As she got closer, the huge arch burst to life with a surge of silent, silver flame. An intermixed roar of triumph and fury rose through the High Square. At her back, Dagger continued to cover her, to engage the enemy, his white snout bobbing and weaving, short jets of silver-white fire punctuating longer, roaring blasts, huge eyes wide, tail flashing like a white snake, whipping this way and that over the bloody cobblestones as he turned to face any threat. He had taken light fire—a black crossbow bolt protruded from his saddle, a trio of bullet holes marked his right wing, and there was a short cut running along his ribcage—but he was otherwise unharmed. Still, he looked tired.

  "Hurry!" someone cried above the din. It sounded like Master Khondus. Then, louder: "Hold, lads! For all our sakes! Hold!"

  On impulse, Anna took the message tube from her pocket and pushed it into position beside the one Gregory already carried. She placed Gregory on the ground, about a pace in front of the Gate. The air framed by the silver arch went hazy, filling with silvery mist. Careful not to touch either the Gate or the glimmering space that it framed, Anna scooched Gregory forward with her toe. The old dragon wobbled forward, his head and neck craning toward his goal. First his snout, then his eyes, then his whole head vanished into the silver sheen. Anna could just see the empty flagstones on the other side of the Gate's haze, where Gregory's head should have been. It was as if Gregory crawled into nothingness. His shattered wing vanished, then his smashed leg, then his lopped-off tail, and then he was gone entirely. The Gate's silvery mist thinned and dissipated.

  A ragged roar of triumph went up, quickly lost amid the crash of combat. Anna sprinted to Moondagger, dodged a thrown spear, and emptied her revolver at a Tevéss rifleman who pointed his carbine at Dagger from behind a column. She pulled out the bolt sunk in Dagger's saddle, swung up, and latched on. She scanned the sky. Dradón and Tevéss dragons still battled, but the combat had devolved into a series of brutal duels, the dragons of House Dradón hopelessly outnumbered. She could see neither Captain Corónd nor his bronze. She looked to the High Square. Maroon everywhere, pushing hard against a thin blue line.

  She could help.

  Dagger growled, tired but ready for more action.

  "Fly, Anna!" Master Khondus shouted hoarsely, waving his arm. "Fly!"

  She couldn't see his face, but his voice was clear.

  "Fly home! Tell your mother! The minor houses! You must bring aid —."

  His arm dropped and vanished.

  "Go!" Anna cried.

  Dagger leapt to the air, cut hard to the left, then hard to the right, bullets hissing past them. The thrust of his wings was astonishing, and her heart skipped as they cannoned out of the Square, skimming the battlements, staying clear of the fighting dragons. The sound of battle quickly dropped away.

  She looked over her shoulder.

  The last thing she saw was a small, churning clump of blue fighting its way towards the Square's western door, surrounded by a dark maroon sea.

  41

  THEY RACED OVER the southern bluff, the High Keep's walls falling behind them, cliffs and mountainside dropping away as they cruised into the open air. Far below them, the green farms and forests of House Dradón spread far and wide, the horizon a huge, hazy arc where verdant land kissed the cloudless sky. Dagger flapped twice, the thrust of his shoulders good, but waning. Then he took a deep breath, held it, and stretched his wings wide, flight bladders swelling, riding the air like a silent falcon, the only noise the rush of their own wind. They glided past the southern-most watch tower. There should've been a pair of Dradón guardsmen stationed there. But the tower was empty and House Dradón's banner hung limp in the listless air.

  42

  IT TOOK THEM less than half a bell's time to reach her family's farm, and they arrived without incident.

  The farmhouse itself was a wide, low-beamed building, roofed with silver-grey slate. It was fronted with a broad courtyard enclosed by a wall of dark stone. The courtyard proper linked the two barns on the eastern side of the compound to the workers' quarters on the west. An oversized House Dradón banner, freshly laundered and pressed, hung from an iron pole fastened to the right of the courtyard's gate.

  At the center of the courtyard, two farm hands were crossing the cobblestones. They wore clean work clothes and carried pitchforks. Anna knew them both by their gaits. Dagger banked hard, his shadow growing, then shrinking, as he dropped to the courtyard's center. He landed behind the hands with a muscly grunt.

  "Ho there, rider!" the shorter of the two hands, Master Jon, shouted in surprise. Seeing the Tevéss war banner still fixed to Dagger's chest, he dropped immediately into a pikeman's stance, pitchfork held at the ready. He squinted up at Anna, eyes narrow against the sun.

  The taller of the two, Master Fredrik, laughed and slapped his buddy on the back, shielding his eyes. "Ha! Miss Anna! Good day!"

  "Great Sisters!" Master Jon grinned. "Good morning, Miss Anna! Didn't recognize you, miss! Your mount wears a Tevéss war banner?"

  "And see there!" Master Fredrick cried, pointing at the cut on Dagger's ribcage. "He's wounded!"

  "Good day, gentlemen." Anna nodded quickly, tired. She unclipped, swung a leg over her saddle, and dropped to the cobblestones, her knees wobbling a bit. She clapped Dagger on the chest and pulled her goggles from her face. Dagger shook his head, growled, and spread his white wings wide, settling back on his haunches. His broad tongue tasted the farm's air. He was tired, too.

  "Good to see you both." Anna nodded. "Time's short. Is Mother near?"

  "Right here, dragon rider." A strong voice behind her.

  Anna turned.

  Mother stood in the front doorway, her face hidden by the shadow of the door's gable. She was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore a simple, grey work dress under a leather apron. She was wiping her hands with a white towel, one hand then the other, cleaning each finger with a twisting motion. A steel cleaver and a wooden spoon were tucked neatly into the flat leather belt at her stomach. Anna's youngest sister, Wendi, who'd just turned five, stood halfway behind Mother's dress. She was looking out into the courtyard, her eyes alert and curious, taking it all in—especially Moondagger.

  Anna went to them.

  "That dragon can't see," Wendi said matter-of-factly.

  Dagger's tail swiped at the cobblestones. He snorted and gave a huge yawn. His scales shone brilliant white in the sun.

  "That's right," Anna said. "But we fly and fight just the same. Mother, something's happened. Let's go inside."

  "How's that work?" Wendi asked.

  "What's going on?" Mother asked, frowning. She looked from Dagger to Anna's armor and gear.

  "He looks strong," Wendi said. "What's his name? I want to ride him. When can I ride him?"

  "Moondagger," Anna said a little too sharply. "Not today." She pulled off her gauntlets, folded them in half, and shoved them up into her bandolier. "I'm here under orders."

  "Oh." Wendi nodded and bowed her head. "Orders. Sorry. I see. Moondagger. Sorry."

  Anna shook her head. Why was she snapping at Wendi? The kid hadn't seen her in months. Anna picked Wendi up from the threshold and kissed the top of her head. Her hair was warm and clean and smelled like home.

  Mother looked past Anna, assessing Dagger's wounds and the Tevéss war banner at his chest with a practiced eye. Her hair was dark, just a touch lighter than Anna's; she wore it in a tight, functional bun. Her mouth flattened to a grim line. Wendi giggled and leaned away as Anna kissed her, pushing at Anna's face with her tiny hands.

  "Come inside, then." Mother nodded, smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear. "You have time for food?"

  Anna nodded, setting
Wendi on the ground. "I'll need something for my mount, too. Right away." She turned to Mother and hugged her.

  "Gathered as much." Mother hugged her back, cleared her throat, and clapped her on the armored shoulders, pushing her back and turning into the house. "Come on—."

  "What's this ugly-butt baby dragon doin' out here?!" Penelope shouted from the far side of the courtyard, jogging up behind Dagger, her smile enormous. "And who's this gangly-bones rider? Don't they know how to rig you people out up there? Jon, Fred? C'mon! You gonna stand by and let this white worm poop on your freshly cleaned yard? Great Sisters save us, lads! Where's your pride?!"

  The farm hands smiled, but it was forced. They'd heard Mother's tone and they knew something was wrong. Penelope looked at them with a quizzical expression as she crossed the courtyard. She was twelve years old and tall for her age, almost as tall as Anna. She had Mother's hair, Mother's eyes, and Father's square chin. She wore a leather work apron over a long-sleeved work shirt, leather breeches, and a pair of shin-high boots. Her shirt's sleeves were stained bright blue with the family's signature dye. Her boots were toed with caps of black iron and caked with fresh merino dung. Her eyes flashed as she jogged across the cobblestones straight up to Moondagger—then stopped short.

  "This dragon's wounded," she said, shooting a hard look at Anna's gear and Mother's expression, taking everything in at once, her eyes flashing. "Jon, send for Master Kellen immediately. Move, man! Have him bring his full kit."