Part of her questioned the role of the rider, but intuitively she knew two minds were better than one. At the very least, Barabas was a second set of eyes and ears. He never struck an enemy or used a weapon of his own, other than the dragon. Barabas guided Dashiq through the fleet like a flaming scythe through wheat. The planes followed closely, allowing turret gunners to target passing aircraft on either side. In the chaos created by Dashiq, planes soared past the armada and executed wide turns, preparing for another pass. Dashiq turned much more sharply and attacked the airships carrying additional planes. When the planes from Dragonport returned, no swath was cleared. Airships clogged the air above the naval fleet, and the aircraft they had launched were now headed back toward the fleet instead of Dragonport. Having been largely scattered by Dashiq's attack, the pilots did their best to regroup and defend the fleet. Once the threat was neutralized, the hold would be defenseless.
For those standing along a stone railing, it was surreal. History unfurled before them like a distant play too terrible to actually be happening. Explosions filled the air, and debris rained from the sky. Cheers rose up as chaos continued to give the advantage to Dashiq. The two Midlands planes were now hard pressed, and that had everyone on edge. Then things got worse. Some Zjhon pilots must have realized the futility of their involvement in the sortie since their presence made it more difficult for their comrades to maneuver.
A sick feeling in her gut, Riette watched a handful of planes turn back toward Dragonport. "Get whatever you can throw at them!" she shouted. Those around her did not react at first. "Anything we can throw up in front of them could make them crash."
It must have occurred to the people that they could exert some influence on their fate, and no matter how ridiculous the idea was, at least it gave them something to do. Failure would leave them no worse off than if they did nothing. The heavy guns Dragonport did have began firing along their flanks before the planes were even in range, herding the aircraft closer together.
"They'll come in low the first time and try to take us out with their guns," Tuck shouted. "Wait until they start firing before you throw anything."
Looking around, Riette was proud of what she saw. Those in charge of defending the hold had already done everything within their power, but now everyone chipped in. Children gathered wrenches, nuts, and bolts, all of which could do serious damage to a plane moving at high speed. Two groups prepared nets as a makeshift slingshot. When the firing started, they pulled tight, hurling scrap metal into the air. Not all of it went high enough, but clinks and clanks accompanied the roaring engines overhead.
Planes soared past. In rapid succession, two crashed farther down the runway. The rest started their turn, appearing to have escaped damage. When one started spewing white smoke, a cheer rose up. Those cheers died away when it began to look as if the wounded plane would make another approach nonetheless. Rockets fired just before the three remaining planes passed, and the pilot bailed out of the damaged plane. Wearing a leather suit with wings stretched between the arms and legs, he soared over the Midlands forest before his parachute snapped open and carried him out of sight. His plane continued toward Dragonport, a winged bomb. It struck storehouses with a thunderous collision that sent flames and debris hurtling above even the mountain peak.
The other planes stayed high enough to be out of range to most, but some used bows to target vulnerable engine parts. Farther out to sea, one of the Midlands planes was brought down, and the feeling of hope faded. Dashiq fought like nothing any of them had ever seen before, and even Riette marveled at the power. Seeing it from this vantage gave an entirely different perspective than what she'd experienced from the carriage. Now the planes returned to attack Dragonport. After so many had been knocked from the skies, they targeted Dashiq, who was the clear threat. The dragon came under heavy fire as every part of the fleet set its sights on her. There was no need for accuracy if you could explode the entire sky.
In a single, massive onslaught, the Zjhon managed a coordinated, inescapable attack—for them and Dashiq. Shooting down their own aircraft, which then tumbled down onto the fleet, they also inflicted damage on the dragon. Dashiq emerged from a cloud of smoke, wobbling in the air and looking as though she might simply drop from the sky. A pair of Zjhon aircraft came into view a moment later, chasing Dashiq as she tried to make her way back to Dragonport. Closer the airplanes flew, their speed greater than what the dragon could achieve in her weakened state. Three shots were fired before the final Midlands airplane roared past them on a perpendicular path, its turret gunner taking full advantage of the opportunity. All Zjhon guns were aimed at Dashiq and did not get off a single shot at the remaining Midlands plane. When the first Zjhon plane exploded, Riette wasn't certain if it was debris from the first plane that took out the second or the gunner's fire, but the result was the same. Both planes tumbled downward, their pilots ejecting barely in time to soar and parachute away.
Losing altitude at an alarming rate, Dashiq flew an erratic course. Barabas wove in his saddle. The Midlands plane had circled back and approached from behind, but the pilot could do nothing to help the dragon, save perhaps to offer encouragement. When the dragon reached the landing strip, she almost immediately closed her eyes and dropped to the smooth stone. The impact evacuated the air from her lungs with a whoosh, and Barabas fared not much better. Only the approaching plane kept Riette from running to Dashiq. Tuck took his chances, dashing across the expanse to where the dragon lay motionless. Riette felt like less of a person for hesitating and she followed. Given plenty of landing strip beyond where Dashiq and Barabas had come to rest, the plane landed without difficulty. Moments later, the pilot climbed down and ran toward Dashiq.
Tuck climbed to Barabas and spoke with him. The tall man did not respond. "He's breathing!" Tuck cried, his voice quavering.
Arriving next, Riette went to where Dashiq's head rested, her eye closed but her breath evident. "Dashiq lives as well," she said, though she was uncertain how much longer that would remain true. There was only so much punishment any living creature could endure—even for love. The dragon held on for Barabas, of this Riette was convinced. Both had endured so much and had been so valiant and brave. Riette could no longer see through her tears.
When she did clear her vision enough to make out what was happening around her, she saw the Midlands pilot hugging Dashiq and crying. "They saved us," he said.
Dashiq moaned in response. The gemstones in her saddle were now more white than clear, especially around where Barabas sat. He was moving now, and Tuck helped him from the saddle. Healers came and ministered to him, along with the other wounded. A naval fleet remained offshore but had lost its air support. Much like the naval fleet to the east, its capacity for war had been dramatically reduced. While the Zjhon still posed a threat, it was unlikely Dragonport would fall.
But now what? If Barabas and Dashiq died, what would she do? Where would she and Emmet go? What would Tuck do? So many questions made her weak in the knees. She hated to think of losing her friends, but she knew better than to pretend everything was fine.
"Pardon me, miss," a man in his late middle years said, breaking Riette's train of thought. She stared at him blankly for a moment. "Are you all right?"
"Um. Yes," she responded. "I . . . just . . . need to sit down."
The man, who introduced himself as Finny, put his arm around her and helped her toward a padded bench beneath a nearby overhang. He brought her a mug of cool water, bread, and cheese. For a while he sat in silence and watched her eat. "Do you feel better?" he asked.
Riette nodded.
"Good. I'm sorry to do this to you now, but I need to ask you a couple questions. Is that all right?"
Riette nodded again.
"Are you Riel Pickette's girl?"
The question caught Riette off her guard, and she gaped at him a moment before she nodded, tears gathering in her eyes. She'd tried so hard not to think of her father all this time, having learned so muc
h about the war he'd disappeared into.
"I'm sorry, miss, really I am. He was a good man, your father—a fine pilot and a good man."
"What happened to him?" Riette managed to ask in spite of her quivering chin.
"His squadron went out on patrol and never came back," Finny said with a sniff. "I was his flight mechanic. I can see him in you and Emmet. He was a brave man. When volunteers were needed for long-range reconnaissance missions, he was among the first to go. He went down over the Endless Sea. His plane was found months later. We may never know exactly what happened, but we know he didn't survive. I'm sorry."
Riette sat cold and unfeeling. She'd mourned the loss of her father already; the only difference was that now it was real. There was no longer any chance her father would come walking back into her life and make everything all right. Feeling as if she were being slowly stabbed in the heart, Riette tried to think of what she would say to Emmet. It was easier to worry about him than it was to feel her own pain.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Finny asked.
Riette shook her head, and tears slid from her nose.
"Then please just wait here and rest for a little bit, and I'll be back. There's something I need to get for you."
Tuck approached a few moments later. "Are you all right?"
Riette nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. Suddenly she felt she knew Barabas just a little bit better.
Tuck sat down next to her. He didn't have to say anything. His presence alone was comforting. "I think they're going to be all right."
In her melancholy, Riette remained silent, not wanting to spread her dark mood. "My father is dead," she said without meaning to.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"It's all right. Finny just confirmed what I already knew." The tremble in her voice didn't lend credence to her words.
When Finny returned, Riette couldn't help but cry. He carried a small square of cloth, but she recognized it. Her father had worn his uniform on the day he left, and she would never forget it; the details were deeply etched in her memory. This was the shoulder patch from his uniform, and it was more than she could bear. For so long she had pushed her father into the realm of stories and legends, things that weren't actually real, things you could lose without being torn into a thousand pieces. But this was real, tangible. It connected her memory to her loss and she sobbed. Emmet had come to see what was wrong, and Riette tried to get herself together for his sake, but it was of no use. Instead, he came and sat beside her, placing his hand on her knee and giving it a pat. This gesture brought even more sobs, and she hugged him hard. Tuck handed her a kerchief, and she gratefully accepted it.
"I'm sorry," she said to Finny.
"Don't you worry about a thing," Finny said. "I don't blame you one bit. But you got good people around you, and you'll always be welcome in my family. You and Emmet are all your dad ever talked about. I feel like I know you already."
"Thank you," Riette said when she'd calmed herself enough to speak.
"There's one other thing. Someone else has been here looking for you."
A cold feeling washed over Riette. Had the Al'Zjhon been here? Were they waiting for their chance to kidnap Emmet?
"He was a big fellow," Finny continued. "Not one you'd want to tangle with in a fight. Had fingers like pickles."
Laughing through her tears, Riette pictured Brick in her mind; the description was not inaccurate.
"He left this for you." Finny handed her a rolled piece of parchment.
Tuck, Emmet, and Finny all looked anywhere other than at the parchment as she unrolled it.
Riette,
You're a hard woman to track down. I wanted to come find you, but the news you sent of a fleet headed for Sparrowport changed my mind. I know you are alive and in good hands. I must go back and make sure our people are safe. I hope you understand. If you do make it back, which I hope you do, I will never let you out of my sight again.
All my love,
Brick
Here was another part of her life she'd been repressing. Brick loved her—always had. He'd come after her, as she'd known he would. Yet he'd had the good sense to go back once he knew she was well cared for. Even if he had been able to track her down, there wasn't much he could have done to help her. She was proud of him for going home to save the people they both cared about, though she wondered how much he could do. Perhaps, as it seemed, their efforts would be futile no matter what. Riette wasn't one to give up easily, but life kept taking things from her. Only the presence of Emmet, and, if she was honest with herself, Tuck kept her from despair. In many ways, the news about Brick came as a relief, and she felt a small bit lighter. When Barabas walked over to where she sat, the burden lifted even more. It frightened her how happy she was to see him.
"Dashiq will recover," he said. "Perhaps not completely but enough to get us back to the shallows. Needs a proper healing."
"Sparrowport?" Riette asked.
"Is in serious trouble," Barabas said. Riette made ready to protest, but he held up a single gnarled finger. "I want to help the people of Sparrowport, but I don't know if we can take on another fleet. This one really took it out of her, and the power in the saddle will be depleted before much longer."
"But we can try?"
"We can try," he said. "We can try."
The pilot who had hugged Dashiq joined them. "Thank you," he said to Barabas with a bow. "I would go with you, if you'll have me. My name is Bronson."
Barabas nodded. "How do you feel about having a very special passenger?"
It didn't take long for Bronson to catch on. "I'd be honored."
Riette couldn't imagine what it would be like to fly atop a dragon atop a diesel prop, but she was about to find out.
"I'll get you fueled up and reloaded," Finny said.
A beautiful red-haired woman approached carrying a tray of travel breads. Riette's mouth watered at the sight. She knew good Midlands food when she saw and smelled it, and these were among her favorite things. Emmet perked up as well.
"I asked Miss Gillian to bring us something to warm our bellies before the journey," Bronson said. Riette liked him already. "As many of you can ride with me as you would like. There's plenty of room."
The offer forced Riette into an uncomfortable decision. Did she accept his offer and risk offending Barabas and Tuck, or did she fly in a rickety carriage strapped to a dragon on top of an airplane and possibly offend Bronson? The fact that she was leaning toward the latter made her question her own sanity. For the moment, she chose not to make a commitment one way or another.
Barabas was also silent on the matter, which could be explained by the steaming travel bread he held. Bacon and eggs by her guess—difficult to execute properly but amazing when done right. Riette grabbed one with the tips of red peppers showing through the bread coating. How she had missed spices other than salt! Tuck finished off his meal and made his way to where vendors displayed their wares. Even in times of war, people had to do business and handle the day-to-day necessities of life. Riette hoped he had the good sense to buy something other than pickled eggs and salted fish.
Deep down, she steeled herself against what they would find upon returning to Sparrowport, never realizing how much the place meant to her until leaving it behind. When living there, she'd felt like an outcast. Now that she had been places where she knew absolutely no one, she realized how much the community meant to her, and there was the familiar sense of surroundings. She longed to once again walk the streets, knowing where she was going and where to find everything she needed. It called to her like a distant dream. If only she could slip back into her old life, as if none of this had ever happened. The thought saddened her, though, since then she would not have known the wonders of magic and the true nature of her brother's existence. She'd learned so many lessons on this journey, no matter how painful the process may have been. There was no way she would wish the knowledge away.
When it came time to board Dashiq,
Riette approached with trepidation. The dragon had been largely unresponsive not long before. Seeing her eye open was a good start, but the aging dragon moved gingerly. Riette began to consider flying inside the airplane just so Dashiq would not have to bear her weight. It seemed an unfair thing to ask of a wounded animal. The dragon, though, had a mind of her own. When Riette and Emmet approached, Dashiq reached out to them with her head and guided them to the carriage. The message was clear enough, and Riette was not about to disobey. No other creature in this world commanded more of her respect than this dragon. The valiant beast had more heart than most of the people she knew and had sacrificed herself more than once to protect Riette and Emmet, not to mention Tuck and Barabas. More and more, she thought of these people as her family. Putting her father's patch in the pocket where she carried the kerchief her mother had given her, she drew strength from them. People on both sides of the veil cared for her, which gave her some comfort.
A crowd had lined up to help put the carriage back in place, and Riette found more of the damage had been repaired. Her seat was once again whole and at least somewhat comfortable. If they lived long enough to make the trip back to the shallows, as Barabas suggested, she would be grateful for the added comfort. Nothing could have felt stranger than sitting atop Dashiq while she climbed atop the diesel prop airplane and wound her tail around it.
"Just keep her weight distributed evenly, and we'll be fine," Bronson said.
Barabas nodded.
Black smoke billowed from the engines, which issued a deafening roar. Already Riette was seeing the benefits of dragon flight over aircraft. Rushing air from the props created a turbulent wash alongside the fuselage, leaving Riette to reconsider the wisdom of this idea. No one would have heard her even if she had said something. The engines roared louder, and the airplane taxied down the airstrip. The extra weight required additional lift. Dashiq kept her wings closed. Already she affected the plane's aerodynamics, possibly preventing liftoff. Still the plane hurtled toward the cliffs, where clear skies waited beyond. Emmet had the good sense to scream. Riette joined him. Even Tuck looked to be holding on for his life.
The drop sent Riette's stomach toward her throat. The seas rushed at them as the plane picked up speed. Within moments, they were gaining altitude instead of losing it, and Riette relaxed her grip just a small amount, her knuckles already hurting. Tuck looked back, his face pale and his eyes wide. Seeing Riette and Emmet still strapped in place, he gave her a thumbs-up. Shouts rose up from the remaining Zjhon in the water and along the shoreline. The plane was still climbing and might be within gun range, but no one below was ready in time. Most were busy helping their comrades from the water. Pilots and sailors alike clung to the wreckage of airships and naval vessels. Those who had already made it to shore scavenged whatever they could from the wreckage, braving the deadly surf. Those waves were notorious under normal circumstances but were now filled with debris.
Riette almost felt bad for those who remained. The world had changed in the span of a few days. The Zjhon had gone from being an overwhelming invading force to a group of men and women facing being stranded on the Jaga, trapped between rocky cliffs, the swamp, and the sea. The shoreline was the safest route to travel to the Heights, but even that journey was one no sane person would take.
Few places were more deadly than the Jaga swamp. The land itself seemed to reject the presence of man. Those who did wander into the jungle were almost never seen or heard from again. The rare few who claimed to have survived any length of time in the jungle were haunted by the experience, and none ever wanted to talk about it. These were among the tales Riette had always thought to be little more than stories. Having flown along the swamp's edge, though, she now believed every word. The place oozed evil and hatred, writhing with glossy-slick life large enough to be seen from the air. Riette now had experience with enormous serpents, but she still had difficulty imagining snakes that large. It was as if the swamps were a single creature with a great many arms. The images would haunt her nightmares.
Within a short time, though, the swamp and Dragonport were left behind. Stark cliffs whizzing by at an impressive rate, Riette settled in for what would likely be the shortest leg of their trip. Emmet leaned up against her and fell asleep. They were going home.