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MAGIC WILL UNITE OUR world or destroy it.
—Argus Kind, usurper king of the Zjhon
* * *
ABOARD THE AIRSHIP Vendetta, Casta Mett gripped the rails. Lights still streaked through the skies, and no one knew if another meteorite would strike. She'd been right; the ancient texts had been right. This alone exonerated her in her mind, though it wasn't really her opinion that mattered. When the sea serpent appeared, Casta couldn't help but feel the universe was conspiring against her, but this was no time for caution.
"There," Casta shouted, pointing at the cloud of spray glistening in the spotlights. Captain Vaida did not hesitate, knowing this was the reason they had come. Two meteorites had fallen. The one that struck the water would be difficult to find and retrieve; the other would be an easier prize to claim. Part of her wanted to locate it first, but the possibility of two artifacts was more than she could resist. The one on land would wait. Airplanes flew overhead, braving the skies in spite of the fading light and particulate in the air.
As Captain Vaida executed the course correction, Casta saw something that made her blood run cold. Flashing through the spotlights was what could only be a dragon—and not just any dragon but one in particular. Casta Mett hated all dragons, but none did she loathe as much as Dashiq. When her passengers moved through the spotlights, Casta recognized Emmet Pickette and his sister still aboard that ridiculous carriage. Now was the time to kill them all and be done with it. Perhaps victory over one Lord Kind hated so much would take the sting out of losing the boy.
"Change course!" Casta Mett ordered, pointing to where the meteorite had struck solid ground. Other airships were closing on their current position, and she left it to them to retrieve the stone from the water. None of their forces had yet reached the crater site on land. The dust cloud made it difficult for planes and jets to get close.
The airship Vengeance was far better designed for this type of mission but lacked the speed of the other craft. It also had a new weapon Casta Mett would love to test on Dashiq: a rotating hammer shot. This ingenious device fired up to a dozen hammer arrows in the time it would take a skilled archer to fire two. There would be no lines attached to these arrows as with traditional hammer arrows, which made it unlikely any arrows fired would ever be retrieved. Judicious use of munitions was called for, and Dashiq was beyond the weapon's range. Grinding her teeth, she watched helplessly while Barabas took the meteorite and Dashiq flew away.
Desperation washed over her. When Argus Kind found out who had beaten them there and claimed his prize, there would be no mercy. Few things enraged Argus Kind more than the mention of the man's name or that of his dragon. Even the Al'Zjhon themselves had been named as a jab at the Drakon and their customs. Argus had done everything within his power to besmirch their reputation and reduce their influence and numbers, and still a single dragon won the day.
Perhaps the planes could have brought the beast down in daylight, but darkness, too, served the dragon. Not for the first time, Casta Mett vowed to wipe all dragons from the planet. They were the one advantage the people of the Heights and Midlands had over the Zjhon, and no matter how much she hated to admit it, they had thwarted her over and over again. Howling with impotent rage, Casta Mett fired hammer arrows into the night, knowing full well none would reach the intended target. This was the last time dragons would beat her, she swore to herself. Knowing Barabas had the boy made everything worse.
Around her, the world continued to change. Columns in the shallows fell, marring what had been a sacred place of power. No matter how much hatred ate at her heart, seeing such a magical and historic place damaged pained her, but it was not her doing. The gods themselves, it seemed, were angry.
A series of flashes from the airship Dominance indicated nothing had been found at the underwater impact site. Casta spit on the deck.
"I wouldn't want to be there when Lord Kind finds out about this," Captain Vaida said. "When he hears a single dragon made off with his prize under the nose of an entire fleet, he's not going to be happy." He shook his head.
"We'd best get it back, then, hadn't we?" Casta asked. Vaida was a good man and had done nothing to get in her bad graces, but she would not hesitate to drag him before Argus Kind and let him take the blame.
"What are your orders?" Vaida asked, his flag master ready to convey her will to the rest of the fleet.
"We make for Sparrowport," Casta Mett said. "And we will destroy them. With their airfields in our possession, we'll own both ends of the continent, and we can crush them between us. Even if that were not the case, this is personal."
Someday soon the boy and his sister would return home. They always go home.
* * *
A LONELY ISLAND WITH a few scrubby trees felt like paradise to Riette after days in the air. Emmet played in shallow puddles where fish and crabs gathered. Tuck and the captain tended to Dashiq and themselves, which left her to walk the beach alone. Just the act of moving felt glorious, even knowing it would be too brief. She'd seen the Zjhon fleet by way of their lights. The naval fleet dwarfed even the air fleet, and it was obvious this was far more than an exploratory force searching for magic. This was an invasion.
Riette kicked a rock, suspecting they weren't going back to warn the people of Sparrowport or the Midlands. Dashiq knew where she was going and could have easily followed the same path back to Sparrowport, but Riette did not recall seeing this island on the way to the shallows. She also thought their course was taking them much farther east. The captain now kept the strange stone that had fallen from the sky close to him. Putting it near Emmet had caused her brother great stress, and the captain kindly hid it away.
"Magic eater," was all Emmet had said in regard to the stone. How magic could be bad, Riette did not know, but she had stopped automatically disregarding Emmet's words. Often his words were proven correct, even if ill timed.
"Time to go," Tuck said.
Riette sighed and helped Emmet up to his seat. Tuck had her brother strapped in and double-checked before she could get her own straps secured, and she had two fully functional hands. It made her feel clumsy. Tuck checked her straps and patted the captain on the shoulder. She didn't see the captain give the dragon any input, but Dashiq stood and ran along the rocky sands a moment later.
Once back in the air and settled, Riette could no longer hold her tongue. "Where are we going?"
Tuck looked back with guilty surprise; perhaps he hadn't been expecting her to figure it out so soon.
"We're not going back to Sparrowport, are we?"
Tuck's look of guilt grew more distinct. "No."
"Why not?"
"Wouldn't do no good," Tuck said. "Would've been a waste of time."
"A waste of time?"
Tuck looked as if he might crawl up Dashiq's neck to get away from Riette. "What would they have done if we warned them?"
Riette hadn't been expecting that question. "Prepare . . . and send word for help."
"And I bet they've been preparing since we left. Seems to me a Zjhon warplane had been spotted over Sparrowport and even knocked in a couple buildings if I recall. They know."
"But—"
"And we can get the word for help out quicker than they can by going straight to the source."
"We're going to the front?" Riette asked. Her heart fluttered from fear and anticipation. So often she'd dreamed about going to the front and bringing her father home, but it was a most perilous journey. "You think that's safe?"
"Ain't no such thing as 'safe' at the moment," Tuck said, and the captain nodded. "We have something that could help win the war. If you can't be safe, might as well fight."
"What exactly is it that you have?" Riette asked, her voice low and cold.
"Not sure yet," Tuck admitted without looking at her. "But we know the Zjhon really wanted it."
The captain held up his hand, calling for silence, and Dashiq took them into the clouds. Aircraft patrolled the area, and all discussion ceased, but that didn't stop Riette's mind from conjuring one scene after another where all of them died. Having days on end to think about it didn't help. When the coastline finally did come into view, Riette wondered if she knew her geography. What she saw resembled the western boundary of the Jaga swamps: Forest's Edge. The town itself was farther north, but they were technically still in the Midlands. Tuck worked on a written message while they flew. He stuffed a rolled parchment inside a red kerchief filled with dried beans.
Men worked the forests below, and soldiers trained in newly cleared fields. Beyond lay airstrips not much older. Seeing shorter runways than in Sparrowport, Riette was now glad she hadn't taken the diesel plane she'd purchased tickets for. The landings must be terrifying. Even riding atop a dragon, Riette had reservations about coming down amid so many trees.
A dozen or so small farms occupied the few clearings visible in the north. What had once been the most remote farmsteads in the Midlands now supported a burgeoning new hardwood industry and the military's rear post. Most of the aircraft resting alongside the airstrips wore military colors. Signs of those wounded in the war were present to the keen eye, especially as they drew closer to what was easily identified as a medical facility.
Cries of "Dragon!" aroused the community. Even those with wounds freshly bandaged came to windows and doorways to see the dragon land. They were disappointed. Rather than land, Dashiq flew low enough that Tuck was able to toss down the message without its exploding on impact. Confusion and dismay followed.
A gangly man loped onto the field, waving his arms and shouting. Looking extremely disappointed when they soared past, he ran out to retrieve the kerchief of beans. After a brief review, he took the message to where troops practiced.
Within a short time, forces marched west. Riette sat back as they flew east, knowing at least someone would help protect her homeland. The captain had heard her complaint and offered a compromise. By notifying the rear guard directly, he saved time she would have wasted. It gave her some small comfort.
Dashiq kept to the edges of the jungle, flying along the shoreline. When they did reach the grasslands west of the swamp, Riette was grateful. The thought of being anywhere near the jungle terrified her. Better to face the Zjhon than to be eaten by any number of creatures both large and small.
"Last time we were here, the fighting was concentrated in the south," Tuck said under Riette's worried gaze. "We're hoping to come in behind it. Don't worry. This ain't our first go-round. The cap'n knows his business."
* * *
A METAL HAND ON HER leg woke Riette from a deep sleep with a start. Tuck holding a finger over his mouth was the first thing her blurry eyes saw. Knowing something was wrong, she woke Emmet and urged him to remain silent. She might have been better off to leave him sleeping, but she knew how he reacted when awoken by something that frightened him. This was no time for uncontrolled shouting.
The sun was just clearing the horizon, and most of what Riette saw were foggy shadows, but when the shapes grew more distinct, it was apparent what those shadows represented. Hundreds of airships, balloons, and other aircraft gathered. Two ship-borne airstrips longer than any others they'd seen looked wide and smooth enough to safely land even the largest aircraft. Twelve engine diesel props dwarfed smaller planes, but the much smaller U-shaped crafts caught Riette's attention. She'd heard rumors of pulse jets in development, and seeing them in Zjhon hands did not bode well for the future. The allies fell further behind every day.
Beyond the airfields, orderly rows of tents formed small, identical cities. It was efficient, calculated, and frightening. The enemy had but to bide their time and build up an overwhelming force. When she thought back to the floating cities, she realized how close they already were to achieving that goal. It was hopeless.
Crosswinds pushed them deeper inland and caused the carriage to strain against the harness. Carried by the wind, the noise caused a nervous soldier to look up. His voice carried back, shouting in alarm. Dashiq flew with all haste. It wouldn't be fast enough. The air was clear, the faint covering of fog remaining below quickly burning off. The great hollowed mountains of the Heights, visible in the distance ahead, teased of safety just beyond reach.
The captain pulled a string, and the "hold on for dear life" sign fizzed to life.
Riette would have laughed, but aircraft firing behind them made it clear the Zjhon were coming. Only the morning dampness worked in their favor. Even with a target in the air, Zjhon pilots knew better than to fly with cold piston engines. There was one noise, though, that rose in pitch and sounded like an approaching hurricane. Streaking across the sky came a U-shaped plane with backswept triangular wings, the oscillating roar awkward and harsh until it found harmonic resonance. Suddenly in perfect synchronization, the jet engine sang a pure note, its exhaust fumes fading into a shimmering clear wash. No matter how deadly, one had to admire the technical achievement.
At that moment, though, that very innovation was coming right at them. The pilot was willing to give his or her life to take down the dragon, but Dashiq was no easy target.
"I hope they like pickled eggs!" Tuck said, cradling an almost empty jar. Though he was upside down when the jet passed, Tuck made a perfect throw and landed an egg on the jet engine's intake. The jet lost its resonance and for a moment sounded as if it might stall, but then it cleared up and once again found its rhythm.
Three times more jets harried them, doing their best to slow the dragon down. A formation of planes came from behind, and Dashiq did everything possible to maintain speed and still avoid the jets. They had come to expect the jets not to have weapons, but the next carried rapid-fire air cannons delivering a steady torrent of scatter shot. The sickening sound of the shot hitting Dashiq's wing was followed by a slow downward spiral.
Thinking to take advantage of the wounded dragon, the jet circled back for another pass. Again weapons fired but the dragon was more nimble than the pilot had been expecting. With a single rake of her claw, Dashiq crushed the engine's intake. Soundlessly the jet dropped from the sky. The others turned back toward the airstrips, from which a massive flight of diesel props approached.