Warding Song

The Ascalon weighed anchor beyond the harbour, too large to tie up at the docks. Outside she appeared in good condition; her sails were undamaged and she didn’t list. However, if one saw her from the stern, where a gaping, scorched hole lingered above the waterline, she was a sorry sight indeed.

Captain Lambton left a skeleton crew in charge, and went to shore with the other men in an escort of several rowboats to carry supplies.

Lambton was approached by the dockmaster. “It’s a two sueltos fee to tie up a rowboat, I’m afraid, sir,” the grizzled old man informed him. Between them were three rowboats – six sueltos. With an impatient sigh, he handed the coins over. The dockmaster counted them. “Thank ye kindly, Captain.”

“Yes, yes,” Lambton waved him off, turning to the men who’d accompanied him. “Mr Liddan,” he ordered George, “procure us the wood to repair our stern and catamaran. Mr Gunn, accompany me to speak with the Imperial Guard, and give testimony on Mr Erland’s death,” he told the surgeon.

George said, “Captain, wait. I’d like your leave to accompany you, if I may.”

“Making repairs is our top priority,” Lambton reminded him, eyebrow raised.

“I’m not denying that, Captain, but with all due respect, Patrick was my best friend. Besides, Mr Lariston will know better than me the quality and type of wood we need,” he pointed out. Lambton conceded, and put their carpenter in charge of getting the supplies. George handed the other man some coins.

After getting directions from the dockmaster, and refusing to answer his unsubtly-hinted inquiries, they set off for the guard house. “Captain, if I might be so bold,” Hector Gunn remarked, “do you think we have any chance of catching up to the beast? This is not a small island, after all.”

“If we don’t capture it here, we’ll capture it somewhere else. The dragon is a runt – it needs to rest more than others of its kind. We have a duty to take it down; but we also have a duty to inform the Imperials what we know of their runaway thief.”

When challenged, he introduced himself as “Captain Lambton of the DHS Ascalon; my credentials.” He handed over his letter of marque, and gestured to his men. “This is my quartermaster, Mr Liddan, and our ship’s surgeon, Mr Gunn. We have information regarding a criminal known as Ellie Flanders, and the presence of a dragon – yes, I’m serious – here on Amohanes.”

One guard stepped forwards. “Officer Rowles. I was the last to see Ellie – though our intelligencers found she fits the description of another girl called Eleyna. A year ago her guardian was arrested for selling black market crystals, and she disappeared; both of them are assets in a case against a major crime lord. A few days ago she stole a dinghy from the harbour.”

“Officer, I’m afraid this individual has gone beyond stealing dinghies,” replied Lambton. “My men and I tracked a wild, solitary dragon to a deserted island south-east of Amohanes. We discovered a young woman there, who claimed to have been shipwrecked, and I think that much of it was true.”

“So the dinghy is lost? Damn it, the owner is irascible enough as it is. Never mind that, though; do you have the girl in custody?” asked Rowles.

“I wish I could say yes, officer. I regret not putting a guard on her cabin; she found her way down to the dragon’s cage, and released it. Yes,” he nodded, at Rowles’ stunned look, “she let the dragon out. I regret to admit I’d already explained to her how we get dragons into the ship, and she attempted to let it out the same way. It broke through our stern and carried her off.”

The disbelief on Rowles’ face only grew. “Carried her off?” he repeated.

“Not on purpose, she’d just climbed onto its back. It gets worse; several of my men were injured trying to subdue the dragon, but our first mate, Mr Patrick Erland, was killed by the beast, when it cracked his skull.” Lambton motioned to his surgeon, Hector, who confirmed that Patrick had died.

“I did my best to patch them all up, but Patrick’s soul was summoned by the King not long after. He wasn’t wearing his helmet, you see.”

George interjected, in a bitter tone of voice: “She stole it. The girl. She stole his coat and helmet to disguise herself.” When they first met Ellie, Eleyna, whatever her name was, George had liked her. She seemed like a nice young woman, who happened to have made a few mistakes along the way.

Then she betrayed their hospitality, stole their cargo and got his best friend killed.

“So that’s one count of manslaughter, two counts of theft, property damage … and I doubt she was a stowaway, so we can add piracy to the list.” Rowles ran a hand over his face; he too had not wanted to think ill of this girl. What in the name of the Judge had possessed her to go to such lengths? “Send this urgent dispatch out across the island – ‘report any and all dragon sightings to San Eduardo’. Someone has to have seen the beast.”

A man saluted and dashed off. Rowles said, “We’ll send word as soon as we hear of anything. In the meantime, I have a bounty to raise on this dragon rider, and you have a vessel to repair.” He also had some interrogating to do. There was an associate of the girl’s that might have more information …

Lambton gave a nod. “Aye, sir. Good day to you. Mr Liddan, Mr Gunn, let us take our leave.” The three men returned to the docks. “That went better than I expected,” he remarked. “I wasn’t sure they’d even believe us.”

The Ascalon’s crew were no strangers to repairs. Still, it would take hours before the stern and catamaran were fixed. “The more time we spend on this, the further away that dragon and the girl are getting from us.”

“Mr Liddan, I understand your frustration, but there’s nothing we can do. The ship needs to be repaired before we can capture the dragon, and until we get word of its whereabouts or its heading, the trail has gone cold. If you want us underway sooner, I suggest you go and help fix the drawbridge.”

George pursed his lips, irritated. “Aye, Captain,” he saluted, and strode off to oversee the repairs. He didn’t see the point of capturing thisdragon, not anymore. Not after it killed Patrick. The two of them had joined this crew at the same time, and worked their way up the ranks together. Both had always known the risks, but Patrick would still be here if it weren’t for that girl.

I’m not gonna fall, Eleyna told herself firmly, for the hundredth time. I’m not gonna fall. Whatever happens, I’m not … Acora swayed, banking to catch another current of wind.“Woah!” Eleyna cried out, eyes wide as she almost lost her balance. Then the rope she’d tied around herself pulled taut again.

Eleyna had never ridden a horse, or even a donkey, but she always thought it was a matter of sitting on the animal’s back and letting it carry you. Clearly there was more to it than that. Riding a dragon was even more unnerving; at least on a horse one was only a few feet off the ground, not several thousand.

She told herself it was just like being up in the crow’s nest aboard a caravel. Eleyna tried to move with Acora like she’d move with a swaying deck. She rose and fell with each of Acora’s wingbeats. Every so often, she’d risk letting go of her harness with one hand to brush her hair out of her eyes.

It had occurred to Eleyna that her rucksack wouldn’t do any good on her back, out of reach. So instead, she’d slipped the rope through the straps and hung it at her right hip. It wasn’t comfortable – the lumpy rucksack banged against her whenever Acora swerved – but it was easily within reach. When she had time, Eleyna decided to turn the rest of that net into a saddle bag.

As she chewed on a strip of boucan, Acora rumbled with a sort of crooning noise. Eleyna could feel the vibrations beneath her. “What’s the matter?”

She was getting into the habit of talking to Acora, despite knowing he couldn’t understand her. It felt less awkward, in a way, than thinking aloud to herself. Acora slowed, head lowering towards the ocean … “Uh oh. Not again.” Eleyna grimaced, and held on tightly as Acora dived.

First, weightlessness as Acora’s body descended before hers caught up. Then a terrifying, exhilarating plunge towards the ocean. Eleyna screamed as the water rushed ever closer. At what felt like the last minute, the dragon pulled out of the dive, struck the water with his talons – splashing Eleyna as they did – and beat his wings to rise again. He bit at whatever he’d caught.

It was a dolphin. Eleyna shuddered and averted her gaze from the bloody mess. She happened to like dolphins; sometimes they swam alongside the Tenebra, riding the bow wave. Acora’s grisly snack was like a slap in the face; she was on the back of a dragon, a vicious predator. Eleyna felt nauseous.

She told herself it wasn’t really Acora’s fault. He had to eat, and it wasn’t as if he knew she had a soft spot for dolphins. How could he? To Acora, the dolphin was prey. Still, she was relieved when the carcass was dropped.

Now and then, Acora glanced at her and sneezed. At least she thought he was sneezing, until she realised he only made that noise when he looked at her. Problem was, Eleyna had no idea what this meant. “Yes, I’m – I’m fine!” she called, and almost waved at it before she realised what she was doing.

Oh! I’d better check our heading. It was a bit tricky to read the map, with the wind threatening to tear it from her grasp. She checked her compass. They were off course; with a lot of tugging and pointing, she managed to get Acora on the right track again. Eleyna winced and kneaded the small of her back. Riding was a pain in the butt with no saddle, on a horse or a dragon.

They kept flying in a straight line … but then Acora veered to the right. They were still going in the same direction, so Eleyna ignored this odd behaviour. Acora veered left, tilting sharply in mid-air and threatening to unseat her. She grasped the ropes and frantically exclaimed, “What are you doing?”

Acora peered at her. He purred and tilted again, swooping in an arc that had her stomach flipping. “Stop it!” she yelled. It was like being on a storm-tossed ship, except the only thing between her and oblivion was rope and a scaled hide. It took Eleyna a moment to realise Acora was playing.

“Okay, very funny. Cut it out. I mean it!” she demanded, but her protests fell on deaf ears. It wasn’t like Acora could understand a word. It was hard to pull herself left when he veered right, and vice versa. Yet there was an urge in the back of her mind – the same impulse that compelled her to steal a dinghy, and then a dragon – telling her to go for it. Stop fighting, it seemed to whisper. Praying the rope would hold, she took a deep breath.

The next time Acora swayed, she let her body tip sideways, heart in her mouth as the whole world veered … the rope snapped taut, and she was suspended before the dragon righted itself and flew level. Panting, she sat up and rubbed her stomach, the contents of which sloshed uncomfortably.

“Had enough?” she inquired, not expecting a reply. To her surprise, Acora purred; Eleyna felt it rumbling beneath her. She was probably imagining things, but the dragon’s eyes on her were almost mischievous. Acora looked at the ocean, and at her, making that odd sneezing sound and chirping a bit.

After all the swaying, this was easy to interpret. I want to dive, Acora seemed to say – or more likely, I’m gonna dive. Sure enough, he tilted forwards. Eleyna held on tight, but this dive was not as steep. The cry that fell from her lips was no shriek of terror, but a half-laughing giddy squeal.

At last, an Imperial frigate came alongside the Ascalon. Rowles boarded, accompanied by two other men. “Matthew O’Brien, captain of the Pueblo de Juan town guard. On behalf of our mayor, Lord Sebayades, I’d like to offer you a sum of one thousand oros for the capture of a dragon and its thief-rider.”

The crew within earshot looked gleeful at the thought of all that gold. Before Lambton could respond, the other man – an unkempt-looking fellow who smelled of resin – grabbed his hand to shake vigorously. “Pleasure to meet you, Captain Lambton. Timothy Dexter, Informer of Dragons, at your service. It’s my job to search out the beasties, and that’s how I found this one.”

O’Brien cleared his throat. Timothy let go of Lambton’s hand. “Yes, quite. Mr Dexter here stumbled across the dragon in a valley outside of Pueblo de Juan.”

“I have proof this time!” Timothy beamed, holding out a sack of scales. “It was hiding in a grove. Bit of an odd place for a dragon to hide, isn’t it? Behind trees? Mind you, I was hiding from it as well. Used the sap to hide my scent; smells nice, doesn’t it? Then this girl walked up to it; about this tall, black hair, had a rucksack – and I think she was carrying a papaya.”

Raising an eyebrow, Lambton glanced from Timothy to O’Brien. The other man just rolled his eyes. “Could you hear what the girl was saying?”

“Oh, yes, a bit. I think she said they were going to … ” Timothy paused, face screwed up. “Ocaranes, that was it. Oh, and she named the dragon something, but I can’t remember what it was. This girl, is she a witch, then?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, she’s tamed a dragon. Is she a witch?”

“Mr Dexter, there are no such things as witches.”

“I beg to differ, sir. My wife is one.”

“Never mind that. Oh, but this is excellent; now that we know which island they’re trying to reach, we can head straight there once the wind turns.”

“I’m afraid the dragon has left by now. With all respect, Captain, will your ship catch up?” O’Brien inquired, in a tone more curious than sceptical.

“Aye. Dragons might be faster than a ship, on the whole, but they still have to stop and rest like any other creature. With a good wind, ships just keep going. Besides, this one is a runt. I daresay we might be able to overtake it.”

Rowles commented, “What I don’t understand is why she’s trying to get to Ocaranes in the first place. There are no settlements on that island.”

“That might be my fault,” Lambton admitted. “When she was dining with us, playing her meek little castaway act, the girl had a lot of questions about that dragon and what my men and I do. Long story short, I told her the beasts need crystals in order to breathe fire, and she must not know that Ocaranes’ mines are abandoned. Odds are she plans to find a nice supply of crystals.”

“Perhaps,” said O’Brien, “though you’d think there’d be a simpler way. Judge acquit me for saying this, but with a dragon, she’d be the most lethal pirate in the archipelago. Ships are defenceless against the beasts’ attacks.”

“Not if they’re varnished with copper-wood lacquer, like ours; it’s made from the same sap Mr Dexter used, in fact. As it happens, that dragon has run out of fire. I see what you mean, though; pirates on ships are bad enough, but one of those scoundrels in the air? It hardly bears considering. I regret not seeing through her ruse sooner. If I’d known, I’d have taken precautions.”

George came over to the group. “Captain, the repairs are finished,” he announced, adding, “Should I have the crew prepare to get us underway?”

“Yes, now we have our heading; Ocaranes,” declared Lambton. He gestured to their guests. “Captain O’Brien has offered a grand prize on behalf of his superior for the beast and thief, Mr Liddan. One thousand oros.”

“That’s very generous of you, sir. I assume part of that prize money is a bounty on the thief?” Much to his satisfaction, O’Brien nodded.

Timothy remarked, puzzled: “I’d like to know who this thief is you all keep going on about. It’s not the girl, is it? I mean, she didn’t look like a thief.”

“I’d hardly call you an expert on what a thief looks like, Mr Dexter,” replied O’Brien, exasperated. “She is a suspected pirate, faced with three charges of theft, including of a dangerous beast, and one charge of manslaughter. When we get our hands on her, she’ll go straight to the gallows.”

The other man flinched. “G-gallows? My word, that’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

To everyone’s surprise, Rowles agreed. “I admit to an uneasy conscience at the idea of executing a sixteen-year-old. Life imprisonment might be better.”

“Let’s deal with one problem at a time, gentlemen, shall we?” Lambton suggested. “Mr Liddan, if you would.” George saluted and went to get the Ascalon underway. The familiar tasks weren’t enough to distract him. He’d assumed the thief would be hanged, but if that wasn’t guaranteed … George dismissed his fear. After all, an accident could still happen.

The ocean swept by, a turquoise blue expanse ruffled with white froth. As time passed her fear subsided, and she began to enjoy the view. Up here the world looked enormous, the horizon further than she’d ever seen. The clouds seemed bigger too, like huge heaps of fluffy wool floating in the sky.

Of course, they only looked like wool; Acora flew into one, and Eleyna had learned first-hand that clouds were cold and wet. Nevertheless, it excited her to be the first person to ever touch a cloud – in the sky, at least. It felt oddly thrilling to look out, instead of up, and see those fuzzy white masses.

Eleyna noticed the clouds were getting higher. Except it was the other way around; Acora was dropping lower. Eleyna didn’t even realise how far down they were, until she could count waves in the sea below. Acora moaned and gave his wings a weak flap. He was tired, and there was nowhere to land.

All the world was ocean, or so it seemed. There has to be land somewhere. She searched for a place to set down, wishing she had a proper spyglass.

At last she noticed a dark speck. “Down there!” Eleyna called out, tugging on the ropes. “Acora, look! Land there!” she urged. He moaned again, glancing where she was pointing. Then he crooned, and flew towards the tiny island. It was even smaller than Hove Island, home only to seabirds and a loud colony of seals that all fled when Acora’s broad shadow fell over them.

Acora landed on the rock with a graceless thump. It was jarring, and Eleyna felt oddly grateful when the dragon lowered himself with more care to let her climb down. Once her feet were on solid ground, Eleyna staggered, pins and needles shooting through her legs. “Ow,” she declared, trying to stretch.

She wasn’t the only one who was sore. Acora flexed his wings, first one, then the other, whimpering. Eleyna rubbed her goose-pimpled arms, and whispered a brief prayer for Soléy, the sun lespri, to please warm her up. The dragon let out a huff, and glared at its own wings, lips curled back.

Lambton told her that Acora was a runt. At the time she hadn’t thought much of it; she’d assumed it meant this dragon was smaller than usual. Now, Eleyna started to see the real issue. Acora wasn’t just a bit on the small side, but much weaker too. Oh, this is perfect. I stole a defective dragon.

She felt bad. It wasn’t really Acora’s fault; the dragon couldn’t help being a runt any more than it could help being a predator. It worried her, though. If Acora wasn’t a strong flier, and kept needing to land and rest … could the two of them still outrun the Imperials, and those hunters? What if there was nowhere to land so they fell into the ocean? What if Acora couldn’t swim?

Suddenly, Acora waded into the sea. I guess that answers that, Eleyna mused. I’m worrying too much. It’s not like they know where we’ve gone.

She looked around; not that she expected to find much on a barren rock like this. There was plenty of guano from the seabirds, a place where the cliff had tumbled down in a small landslide, a piece of driftwood … she paused.

A big piece, actually; the trunk of a palm tree. She heard splashing as Acora returned from swimming. He climbed out onto dry land, then shook himself vigorously like a dog to dry off. Eleyna couldn’t help but giggle.

A dead seal hung from Acora’s jaws. Much to her consternation, upon spotting her he hurried over and deposited the seal at her feet. “Um … ” she said. He purred and nudged the carcass towards her with his snout.

Eleyna had eaten seal meat aboard the Tenebra, but Fabian always took care of the … butchering part. On the other hand, if she filled up on roasted seal then her rations from the market would last longer. Besides, now she’d found that driftwood, she had something to make a fire and cook the meat with.

She beckoned Acora to the edge of the cliff, and pointed down at the trunk. Acora looked at it, then at her, head tilted to one side. “I need you to pick it up,” she explained, then pointed at the trunk again and mimed lifting something. “Acora, lift,” Eleyna said firmly, repeating the charade.

At last he caught on, and reached down to pull the kelp festooned log up onto higher ground. “Good dragon,” she praised, walking over and pulling off the kelp. Then she waved to get Acora’s attention, and pretended to breathe fire at the log. She leapt back when the dragon set it ablaze with a plume of scorching flame. “Woah! Heh. I’ll admit, that was quicker than using a flint.”

Given Acora was the reason she’d lost her flint, Eleyna felt it was only fair that the dragon started fires for her. She welcomed the heat. Acora, having apparently decided the seal carcass was going to waste, began to tear into it. “Hey! I thought we were sharing,” Eleyna protested, hurrying forwards.

Acora snarled at her and covered the seal with his paw. Eleyna flinched. Yet the next moment his eyes widened; he whined and backed away. Still a bit shaken, Eleyna approached the seal’s body with more caution. The hide had been torn off and chunks of blubber ripped out. Grimacing, she cut out pieces of blubber, hand wrapped in kelp to avoid touching the raw flesh.

He didn’t move to devour the rest of the carcass once she’d finished. “Go on, then. Help yourself,” she prompted. Encouraged, he pulled the corpse towards himself and began to feast. Turning around so as not to see the grisly affair, Eleyna placed her kelp-and-blubber parcels as close to the fire as she could get them. If only I had a proper roasting spit to hand.

She heard Acora whine, and turned around. He gazed at what remained of the seal, eyes hooded, all hunched in on himself. Eleyna had no idea what had upset him. She didn’t even know if Acora was upset. He looked – there was no other word for it – sad, but what if she was imagining such things?

Not for the first time, it occurred to her how … peculiar Acora was. He had used a boulder to crush her locket, like a tool. Eleyna wondered if being a runt was why the dragon seemed so clever. If he wasn’t strong enough to do things other dragons could, he might have found other ways to get by.

“Guess we have something in common,” she murmured. He looked at her blankly, moaned and curled up with his back to her, head under his wing. “Okay, don’t mind me. Sulk all you want,” she muttered, keeping a lookout.

If Eleyna knew Lambton and his hunters still pursued them, she might have been less flippant about resting for so long. The Ascalon was heading to Ocaranes, accompanied by the frigate that Officer Rowles served aboard.

This ship carried two passengers; Captain O’Brien and Timothy Dexter. The latter’s inclusion was a mistake; he’d wandered off to explore, and by the time he reappeared they were already underway. The guards’ captain prayed to the King for a boon, which came in the form of Timothy quickly growing seasick and retiring to the cabin set aside for them both.

O’Brien and Rowles discussed what would become of the dragon and rider once they were apprehended. “Mayor Sebayades will pay two hundred seventy oros for the rider, and seven hundred thirty oros for the dragon’s head.” Originally it was seven hundred fifty, but that was before he’d learned that this dragon was a runt. A smaller dragon meant a smaller prize, no?

“That’s a generous sum. You understand, of course, that we need the prize money to cover replacing that dinghy she stole, and reparations to the dead man’s – Patrick’s – family. I’ll have to check the costs when we return to port.”

“Naturally. I’ll tell you what; let’s make it three hundred fifty oros for the rider, eh? The important thing is that she is caught and made an example of.”

“With all due respect, Captain, all she did in your town was steal some clothes, yet you want to punish her severely for making you look a fool?”

“That has nothing to do with it, and I’ll thank you not to cast such aspersions. You know as well as I do the law states piracy is punishable by death, and that all people are to be treated equally under the law, for good or ill.”

Rowles changed the subject. “That other man, Dexter. He said he was the ‘Informer of Dragons’? Forgive me, but I’ve never heard of such a role.”

O’Brien rolled his eyes and took a swig of brandy. “That’s because there’s no such thing, but please don’t tell him that, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“To cut a long story short, Dexter is an illiterate buffoon who kept pestering for an office in government. In the end they invented a job, gave him the lowest stipend they could get away with, told him he’d get a pay rise when he brought proof he’d seen one of the beasts, and he’s been living under the delusion that it’s important ever since. We never thought that he’d actually … ”

Rowles chuckled at the absurdity. “I can imagine. He’s not truly illiterate, is he?”

“See for yourself.” O’Brien handed over a piece of parchment, on which was written: I, Timuthee Decster swere with the King as my Witnis that I hav sceen a Big black Dragun and a gurl ridin it in a vallee. That is were they floo Away from.

Blinking, Rowles handed the parchment back. “Well. I stand corrected.”

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” O’Brien called, only to regret it when Timothy himself came in. “What is it now?” he asked impatiently.

“Ah, sorry to disturb you, Captain Brian – ”

“Yes, that,” Timothy nodded vaguely. “I was wondering, this raise I’ve gotten for seeing the dragon. If I see it again, does that mean I’ll get another raise?”

“Not for the same dragon, you imbecile. One raise per dragon and that’s it!”

It felt good to be flying, the wind sweeping her along and the sun warm on her scales. For the first time in ages, she had a place to fly to, even if she didn’t know where it was yet. There would be firestones, a whole hoard!

Nothing could dampen Trill’s spirits, not even her unusual burden. It felt rather odd, and not entirely comfortable, to have Click-Grunt and his lumpy shell sitting on her. Click-Grunt wasn’t good at balancing. He kept nearly falling off when Trill moved even a little, and his shell banged on her side.

Occasionally she curved her neck round to look at Click-Grunt and make sure they were still going the right way. He couldn’t understand her, though; he just made meaningless noises. Only when she wasn’t expecting it did he tug at that vine to make her move a certain way, much to Trill’s annoyance.

She began to feel hungry, and searched the ocean below her. Trill spotted a shoal of swimming prey-beasts. She folded her wings and dived.

Click-Grunt screeched as they plummeted. Trill paid him no mind, pulling up and snatching one of the prey-beasts out of the water. It was heavy and slippery; she dug her claws in and fought to regain altitude. Finally she sank her fangs into the back of its neck. The prey-beast stopped struggling.

She hovered and devoured it, tearing off hunks of blubber and swallowing them whole. Trill considered offering some to Click-Grunt, but it would be hard for him to reach. At last she ate her fill, dropped the carcass, and licked the blood off her claws. She looked back at Click-Grunt and called his name.

He never seemed to realise it was his name; wingless ones were strange creatures. Click-Grunt called to her, or maybe at her. Trill rolled her eyes. Not long after, she felt him tugging and fidgeting. She hissed irritably.

Trill had been carried as a hatchling, but she hadn’t been this squirmy … had she? Her sire had teased her by swooping back and forth. Mischievously, Trill began to do just that. Click-Grunt wasn’t happy about it, but at last he started to move with her. She dived again, for the fun of it, and he shrieked.

The wind changed direction. They were going east, more or less, but now the wind wanted them to go north. Trill had to push through the wind to keep going the right way; she couldn’t simply let it carry her. With each wingbeat she grew more tired. Trill hoped they would find a place to land soon.

To her dismay, the wind disappeared altogether. Trill had no choice but to flap, sinking lower all the while. She put all her strength into going forwards; there was none to spare for going up. If she didn’t land, Trill feared her wings would seize and not move. Then she and Click-Grunt would drown.

Click-Grunt cried out and tugged at that vine to get her attention. Trill moaned tiredly and looked back at him. He was reaching out with one forepaw towards … ground! With a relieved croon, she went to land on it. The small island – or maybe a very, very large rock – was covered in seabirds and those fat honking prey beasts that fled at their approach.

She landed with a thump, folding her wings at last, and crouched to let Click-Grunt climb down. He winced and staggered. Trill stretched her wings, first one, then the other. They were stiff and sore, and she whimpered. Then she huffed, smoke coming out of her nostrils, and glared at her wings.

I hate being a runt. Trill wished she was stronger. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about finding somewhere to set down because the wind had gone. She shuddered to think what might have become of them if Click-Grunt hadn’t seen this rock to land on. This was the second time he had saved her. And himself, but it still counted. Trill wanted to return the favour.

There was nothing here to save Click-Grunt from, but the effort of flying for so long without rest had her feeling hungry again. She had thought of sharing the earlier prey-beast with him, so why not share a prey-beast here?

She waded into the water to hunt. Diving was hard; the gas that let her fly also made her float. Trill took a deep breath and dug her claws into the seabed, pulling herself down under the water. Through her inner eyelids, though they were blurred, she saw lots of waving green and brown plants.

The prey-beasts could be hiding amongst them, she realised. Trill stalked towards the plants. They swayed back and forth with the waves. Movement caught her eye. She pushed through the water. Her quarry panicked and tried to flee; Trill lunged, her fangs grasping the tail of the prey-beast. It honked, bubbles streaming from its mouth as it struggled to escape.

Clouds of scarlet blood filled the sea as Trill sank her claws into the prey-beast and dragged it to the surface. She gasped in the fresh air, then bit the prey-beast’s throat. It went limp. Satisfied, Trill climbed out of the water, the carcass in her jaws, and shook herself dry as best as she could.

She padded over to Click-Grunt and deposited the prey-beast at his feet. He stared at it. Trill nudged it towards him with her snout, to show him he could have some. Instead, he went to the edge of the cliff and waved one foreleg at her, reaching towards something with the other.

There was a dead plant down there on the shore. She didn’t see what the big deal was, but Click-Grunt kept pointing at her, then at the dead plant. At last she realised he wanted her to pick it up. Trill did so; it wasn’t heavy. He crooned at her, sounding happy, and pulled off the brown leaves stuck to it.

Then he tried to breathe fire at the dead plant, but nothing came out. Besides, didn’t wingless ones use their paws to make fire? Click-Grunt had no firestones though, so Trill set it on fire for him. He jumped and squawked in surprise, then chittered some more. Thinking he must have rejected this prey as well, she tore away its skin and began to eat the flesh.

Click-Grunt cried out and went towards her. She snarled, protecting her kill. He flinched. Trill remembered suddenly that she had planned to share this prey-beast with him. She whined in apology and backed away, letting Click-Grunt feed first. It was a shame to be the last one eating as usual. He cut off bits of flesh with that not-claw of his and wrapped them in leaves.

When Click-Grunt moved away, she hesitated, but he waved a paw at the carcass. Taking this as permission, Trill began to feast. The flesh was chewy, rich and delicious. She hadn’t eaten one of these since …

Trill stopped eating. For what felt like a long time, she stared at the half-eaten prey, wishing her friend was here to eat it with her. Click-Grunt crooned, but he wasn’t Chirr-See. He could never replace her best friend. She curled up and hid from the world, tucking her head under her wing.

By the time her meat was cooked, Eleyna could tell from the sun’s position that it was well past mid-afternoon. She chewed on some blubber and examined her map, debating what to do next. This lump of rock wasn’t marked, why would it be, but if she was judging the distance between Amohanes and Ocaranes right … they could make it there by dusk.

Eleyna gathered up the not-quite-dried, still-chewy pieces of seal blubber and tucked them into her rucksack. The kelp she’d wrapped it in had given the meat a very salty flavour. It wasn’t pleasant, but food was food. Then she dug out the net, stuffed in and tangled around everything else.

She crammed the rucksack into the net, and cautiously approached Acora. He was unpredictable, and Eleyna never knew if she was going to get snarled at or not. This time, however, he merely looked at her. “We need to go,” she declared, gesturing for him to crouch down. He lowered his neck so she could climb onto its shoulders. First she tied the net to two of his spines.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” Eleyna pointed at the burning palm and made a pushing gesture. They had to get rid of it, lest it leave a trail. She might have dismissed the idea, but Acorawasn’t the fastest flier. At last he caught on and shoved the driftwood with one paw back into the ocean.

Eleyna hauled herself back onto Acora’s shoulders. She tied herself in, checked her compass and pointed the dragon in the right direction. Then she braced herself as those huge leathery wings opened, and Acora sprang into the air. The long rest had clearly done the dragon good.

Her mind wandered as she looked down at the ocean, trying to conquer her nerves. Even now it all felt surreal; if someone had told her a year ago that she’d ride a dragon one day, she’d have laughed at them.

Far below a ship was sailing, looking so tiny that from up here it was like a child’s toy. Eleyna grinned and waved for the fun of it, even though no one on board would be looking at them. Or maybe someone was, and panicking at the sight of a dragon. From this height, Acora likely looked more like a bird …

Eleyna remembered keeping a lookout for ships, and instead seeing a dragon. Two of them, in fact, and one had been smaller than the other. “I saw you,” she realised. “I saw you flying over our ship! You were looking down at us, too,” Eleyna remembered. “Thank you for not attacking us.”

It occurred to her … if that smaller dragon really had been Acora … what happened to the other one? Oh … the hunters. Of course. “That’s why you’re so scared of humans. You lost your friend.” Eleyna stroked Acora’s neck. “I know how you feel,” she murmured. “I lost a friend of mine as well.”

Acora looked back at her and crooned. She felt a stab of guilt; it had been ages since she’d spared Marcus, or any of her crew, a single thought. She’d been distracted, but still. Eleyna missed Marcus, and Fernando … Pablo, Javier and Catherine. At least Pablo and Javier are still alive.

In this maudlin mood, Eleyna barely noticed time passing, until she saw an island rise up ahead. “That’s it … that’s it! Acora, we made it!” she cried excitedly, urging him to land. He alighted on the far side of the mountain. “I’m finally at Ocaranes. Hidden treasure, here I come!”

A great yawn stretched her jaw. “Uh, on second thoughts … let’s wait “til morning,” she suggested. The sun was setting, the western sky emblazoned with fiery hues. He rumbled, and lay down after she’d pulled the makeshift harness off of him. Eleyna hesitated, wondering where she ought to sleep.

There was a gap between Acora’s wing and flank that made a sort of living tent. She stretched – all the flying had made her stiff – and carefully wriggled into the gap. Acora stirred from his doze and peered at her. Eleyna didn’t move, and after a few moments, he rolled his eyes and closed them again. She did her best to get comfortable, using her rucksack as a lumpy pillow.

Eleyna leaned back against Acora’s side, feeling heat radiating from the dragon into her skin. “Y’know what?” she muttered. “I’m glad we met. I wouldn’t have gotten here without you. Thanks.” A yawn. “G’night, Acora.”

Wingless ones burned their food. Trill learned this when Click-Grunt took some meat from the prey-beast and, instead of simply eating the chunks, covered them in those slimy brown leaves and put them near the fire. Then he waited, and waited … He was very daft to not simply eat, if he was hungry.

Her gaze kept turning the way they had come, looking out for any sign of pursuit. Trill had no idea if the wingless ones that trapped her in a cage knew where she and Click-Grunt had gone, but she’d learned the hard way not to underestimate their kind. That was how she’d lost Chirr-See, after all.

Finally Click-Grunt started eating. The next thing Trill knew, he was stuffing the meat into that shell of his, and pulling out a tattered piece of net. Then he put the shell in that, and carried it over to her. She got the impression he wanted to leave, even though there wasn’t any danger to flee from.

So she crouched down, but first he tied the net to her spines. Then he pretended to push the burning plant away. At last Trill realised he wanted her to shove it back into the ocean. Then why did he want me to pick it up and set it on fire in the first place? Still, she humoured him and obliged.

Finally he clambered back, and pointed her in the right direction. Trill took off, wings well-rested by now. After a while, a floating-nest appeared below them. It was going in the wrong direction, so she didn’t try to follow it. On her back, Chirr-See made those odd chitters. She wondered what he meant.

They flew onwards. Just as her wings were beginning to tire, Click-Grunt cried out at the sight of an island. I can see it too, you know, Trill sighed as her passenger fidgeted. Still, if he wanted to land there, she wouldn’t complain.

When she landed, he slid down off her shoulders and cried out triumphantly. Oh, Trill realised, is this where we were going? There aren’t wingless ones here, are there? Before she could start worrying about it, Click-Grunt yawned. She was tired as well, come to think of it; she had last slept when she’d been trapped in that floating-nest. Trill gave a sleepy, rumbling purr.

Click-Grunt pulled the shell and vines off her before she lay down. She felt something under her wing, and looked, only to see Click-Grunt wriggling between her wing and side like a hatchling. He saw her watching and froze.

She rolled her eyes and looked away. Part of her felt uneasy to have a wingless one so close … Trill imagined her sire, dam and her friends telling her: it’s not safe! It could hurt you, or trick you … but she didn’t think he would. If Click-Grunt wanted to harm her, he wouldn’t have set her free, would he?