Five miles south of Ancris, in a valley surrounded by steep mountains, lay a particularly large hill known as Shepherd’s Crook. From afar, it looked like a giant had decided to take a nap near the River Wend. The Wend wove through a valley with a small village, some fertile farmland, and a few copses of pine toward Ancris, making it a preferred location for the Red Knives to fly in shipments of drugs from the Holt. As such, Shepherd’s Crook had a propitious view of the nearby peaks, the valley, and the winding river.
Lorelei lay on her belly at the hill’s summit, hiding behind a flowering night gorse. The night was cool and cloudless. She held a nightglass to her eye and scanned the mountains, an imposing row of peaks known as the Wayward Oxen, for dragons. The dark sun cast a deep shade of indigo from the west. She’d been watching the tree-studded slopes for an hour, spotted elk, caribou, even a wolf wandering through the trees, but no men and certainly no dragons.
Creed lay on his belly to her left, nightglass pressed to his eye, scanning the Wend. Because it was night, they’d forgone their white uniforms for dark clothing and long coats of a special cloth with fibers of silver dragon scales worked into them to give them some protection against anyone who might be spying on them with nightglasses. They both wore black leather tricorns, Lorelei with all three flaps down against the dark sun, Creed with one side buttoned up, like a lowlands cavalier.
Glittering as it was, the Wend looked like a spill of the dark sun itself. Beyond it, directly ahead of Lorelei and Creed’s position, was a dock and a small fishing shack with canoes leaning against it.
“Maybe Davin lied,” Creed grumbled.
“Maybe, but I doubt it,” Lorelei said, lowering her nightglass. “His deal with Carcarus is contingent on us getting what we want.”
More than a week had passed since she’d spoken with Kellen in the library. In that time, Davin had been brought before Magistrate Carcarus and agreed to find out about the Red Knives’ next shipment to Ancris. Though she thought it would likely amount to nothing, Davin had delivered a promising rumor: Blythe would be flying in a fresh shipment of drugs shortly before reckoning, which was why Lorelei and Creed had met at Shepherd’s Crook in the middle of the night.
Creed had ridden a horse from Ancris; the roan mare was tied to a bush near the base of the hill. Lorelei, meanwhile, had gone to the eyrie at Highreach and taken Bothymus, who lay in a rocky depression ten paces behind them. He’d been uncharacteristically ill-tempered when she’d arrived at the eyrie, wriggling as she tried to mount, fighting the reins on the flight, gouging a circle into the earth with the spiny end of his tail as soon as she’d dismounted. He lay in that circle still, as if it were a ward that would protect him from imperial inquisitors and their irksome ways.
Lorelei reckoned it was a lingering effect from the attack by the cobalt. Though the gash to his shoulder was largely healed, the experience had been traumatic—it would be some time yet before he was fully healed in body and spirit.
Apparently not finished grousing, Bothymus began beating the ground with his tail and growling. Lorelei was about to squeeze his fetter and command him to stop, when he suddenly ceased the pounding. She let him be. When dragons became tetchy, often the best thing to do was leave them alone.
Creed shot a glance over his shoulder, then returned to his nightglass. “Davin seems an excitable fellow. He might’ve spooked the Knives. Blythe might have chosen a different location.”
“It’s also possible she was delayed. Just be patient.”
Creed shifted the aim of his nightglass. “Can we at least agree that if she’s not here by reckoning, she’s not coming?”
“I suppose.”
Bothymus thumped the ground again, harder. He snaked his neck back and forth. Then he trumpeted short and loud, a warning. Lorelei cringed as the sound echoed off the valley walls. Near the goat path at the foot of the hill, Creed’s roan tugged at her reins, which were still wrapped around the bush Creed had tied them to. Then suddenly the mare was galloping down the path, away from the hill.
“Faedryn’s teeth, Lorelei, will you control that bloody drake? Shut him up!”
A dragon’s trumpet was hardly uncommon around Ancris, but Creed was right. The Knives might have lookouts. Lorelei squeezed Bothymus’s crop and willed him to silence.
Bothymus lay back down on the ground, but Lorelei could still feel him fighting her.
“What’s gotten into him?” Creed asked.
“A cobalt’s poison can linger. Plus, he’s never been fond of night work.”
“Neither am I, but you don’t see me pounding the ground and screeching.”
“I’ll mention it to Stromm when I get back, all right?” She stood and headed back down the hill toward Bothymus, projecting as much calm as she could through the crop. “I know, boy, you’re annoyed, but we’re almost done. You’ll be back in your nest before you know it.”
When she reached him, she held her hand near his chin, and he leaned into it. His scales were warm and mostly smooth, except near the edges, where they were sharp as flint. She scratched the wattle beneath his chin, and he shook his massive head and rumbled.
“We’ve got company,” Creed called from the bushes.
Lorelei rushed back to the summit and lay beside him. “Where?”
“The tree line beyond the boat shack.”
She peered through her nightglass. Beyond the river was a meadow, then a pine forest that continued up the slopes of the valley’s far side. A reedy fellow, glowing violet in the nightglass, emerged from the tree line, loped across the meadow to the shack, and untied a canoe. Then, he lifted the canoe over his head and carried it to the end of the dock, but instead of lowering it into the water, he set it down on the dock and peered upriver.
Lorelei spotted a wavering purple shape far in that direction. The shape grew and formed into beating wings, a writhing tail, and a long neck. The dragon was surely Velox, Blythe’s nasty, acid-spitting viridian. As the dragon dipped and followed the Wend, Lorelei could see the outline of a rider.
“I believe you owe Davin an apology,” Lorelei said.
Creed pointed his nightglass at the dark peaks of the Wayward Oxen and grunted.
Velox soared above the Wend, glided silently toward the shack, and landed in the meadow. Blythe dismounted with what looked to be a rucksack over one shoulder. She set it down and began untying two dark bundles from the saddle. The reedy man joined her and helped, then the two of them began lugging the bundles toward the dock.
The bundles were surely the latest drug shipment from the Holt. The Red Knives’ couriers would often drop them off and leave, but Blythe, much to Lorelei’s relief, stayed. Apparently the other rumor Davin had heard about Blythe, that she planned to stay in Ancris to set things straight after Aarik’s death, was also true.
“Wait until Velox leaves?” Creed asked.
“Agreed. Let the canoe reach the ford. We’ll take them there.”
Creed stood and brushed the dirt from his coat. “Good hunting.” Creed headed downhill toward his escaped mare.
Lorelei’s heart pounded. “Good hunting.”
Blythe and the willowy fellow had nearly finished loading the canoe. Velox, meanwhile, lumbered over the meadow, beat his wings, and launched into the pre-reckoning sky.
Bright goddess, it was all going precisely as Lorelei had hoped. Blythe and the man launched the canoe and headed downriver. Velox flew up over the trees.
Lorelei felt a sudden alarm from Bothymus through the crop. She turned to find him arching his back and pushing himself off the ground. She commanded him to silence, but he snorted and released a long, loud trumpet.
Velox swung around and hovered over the pine trees, then trilled a long note.
Bothymus reared up and flapped his broad wings. His scales glowed and shimmered so dazzlingly he was hard to look at. It was the sort of mesmerizing display induria used to disarm their prey, but Bothymus couldn’t even see Velox from his position.
“Down, Bothymus!” Lorelei called.
She tried to calm him with the crop, but he continued to brighten and snap his teeth. “Alra’s grace, what’s wrong with you?”
She had half a mind to call off their ambush and fly Bothymus back to the eyrie, but this opportunity was too good to pass up. She squeezed the crop again and commanded Bothymus to heel, and after glaring at her a moment, he did. She climbed his shoulder to the saddle, then quickly exchanged her tricorn for the owl helm in the saddle bag, pulled up the collar of her coat and buttoned it tight to her neck. Lastly, she took the dragonscale shield off the saddle horn. Not perfect gear against the acid spray of a viridian, but it would have to do. “Hup!”
Bothymus launched into the air and flew down along the slopes of Shepherd’s Crook.
On the Wend, Blythe dove from the canoe and into the water and swam furiously toward the far bank. The gangly man continued paddling hard.
By the time Lorelei and Bothymus swooped down, Velox had landed in the meadow and Blythe had mounted.
Lorelei gripped the reins and the crop tightly. “We want Blythe alive, understand?”
She felt something like assent from Bothymus, but he was flying so strangely. He veered and ducked and suddenly pulled up.
“Damn it, Bothymus!” She focused on Velox and squeezed the crop as hard as she could.
Bothymus finally abandoned the chaotic movements and flew straight as an arrow toward Velox. Velox lumbered forward and flapped his wings, preparing to take flight. Bothymus sped over the churning river, clamped his teeth on Velox’s tail, and dragged him back down.
Velox beat his wings, ripped his tail away from Bothymus, and took to the air. He shot his head toward Lorelei, and she raised her shield. A stream of green liquid splattered off it. She felt a sting on her neck, but let it be. There might be more acid on her gloves, and she didn’t want to wipe it on her unprotected skin.
Splashes of acid sizzled on the scales of Bothymus’s wing. Noxious white smoke rose from it, and before she noticed, Lorelei had breathed some in. She fell into a terrible coughing fit.
“Stun!” she managed to say between choking breaths.
Bothymus spun around toward Velox, spread his wings, and lit them, brightening, pure white morphed to a brilliant, chromatic display, illuminating the river, the rocky bank, and the grassy field beyond the bank. Blythe threw her forearm over her eyes and yanked on Velox’s reins.
Velox snaked his long neck away and turned toward the riverbank. Lorelei urged Bothymus to charge.
Bothymus beat his wings hard, propelling himself forward, lunged with a mighty roar, and barreled into the smaller dragon. Both dragons screeched, snapped their jaws, and battered each other’s wings. They twisted so closely together that Lorelei and Blythe suddenly found themselves at arm’s length.
Blythe reached for the fighting knife at her belt. Lorelei leaned over her saddle horn and snatched the leather strap Blythe’s rucksack. “Go, now, Bothymus,” she urged.
Bothymus spun around and beat his wings. Lorelei held tight to her saddle horn and the strap, pulling Blythe sideways on her saddle. Blythe scrabbled for her saddle horn with her free hand and slashed the strap with her knife. Lorelei almost fell backwards from her saddle, swinging the rucksack by its strap.
Velox swung his head down and bashed the side of Bothymus’s head above his frilled barbs. Bothymus shook his head, lost altitude, but recovered before he hit the riverbank. Velox sprayed the bank with a mist of green acid. White smoke rose and spread, and Velox ducked into it. Bothymus followed, but the cloud was noxious and impossible to see through. He rose straight up out of the cloud. Velox was already beating his wings over the field to her left.
Lorelei wiped her eyes and watched as Velox flew toward the mountain ridge.
Bothymus wanted to fight, but Lorelei forbade him. “It’s enough for one night.” Were Bothymus not so intractable, she might have let him, but something was wrong with him. He wasn’t himself. She’d probably pushed him farther than she should have already.
They glided down and landed on the riverbank. Lorelei opened the rucksack and found several changes of clothes, a water skin, some honey cakes, and a small wooden case. She took out the case, slid the lid back, and stared. Inside was what looked to be a rectangular clump of moist peat.