"But there is . . . something surrounding the hold," Halmsa said.
"You said the Drak escaped."
"They did," Halmsa said. "Just before the . . . uh . . . thing closed."
While he was happy Valterius and the others had escaped, Sinjin wondered if the rest would be imprisoned within Dragonhold for the rest of their days. Though he had far less access to Istra's powers than others, he could still acutely feel its absence. He had never realized how strongly he'd felt Istra's energy until it was gone. It was as if something critical were missing from the air. He could only imagine what it must feel like for his mother or Allette. He thought for just an instant about how Trinda must feel, but she had brought this upon herself and them. He would never forgive her for it. In the past he'd felt guilty for the way he'd treated her, but that was no more.
Benjin, Wendel, and Jensen emerged from the kitchens laden with supplies, and Sinjin couldn't help but smile at the sight. Kendra briefed their friends since she reached them first.
"What in all of Godsland is going on around here?" Benjin demanded. "And what are those giant stone claws?"
"The best we can figure," Kendra said, "that thing is the Fifth Magic, and it appears to be a prison. It cuts us off from Istra's light."
"Can anything go through it?" Benjin asked, but no one answered. Instead, they started making their way back to the great hall. There they found Onin of the old guard and Jehregard making their way to the main entrance.
Kenward came to Sinjin's side and was about to ask him a question when Benjin interrupted. "Kenward," he began, "I'm more sorry than you can possibly imagine."
Without even asking what, Kenward pushed past Benjin and into the great hall. The Dragon's Wing resting atop the Serpent's shattered remains. "I know you never liked the carving on the masthead," Kenward said in a pained voice, "but you didn't have to do that to her!"
The Serpent had taken significant damage before breaking the Wing's fall, but now the ship was unsalvageable. In preserving the Dragon's Wing, the Serpent might have saved them all, but they would need to figure out a way around the energy field surrounding the hold. Now that he was in the main hall, Sinjin could see the field through the still open and damaged gates. It shone bluish green. The plasma rippled and churned like fast-moving clouds. He could feel wringing energy from the air. It felt as if it would suck the life from him, leaving nothing behind but a dried husk.
Escape was starting to feel like an unreachable goal. Chase was searching for something they could throw at the energy barrier, looking everywhere but at the wreckage of the Serpent. A wise move. Kenward was already volatile, and there was no sense in antagonizing him, no matter how handy the wreckage might be at that moment.
"Look out!" Sevon cried a moment later, and he ran back from the main entrance. Given everything that had happened, he acted on Sevon's warning without hesitation. Sinjin couldn't help but look back. When he caught a glimpse of what the thief had seen, his legs stopped cooperating. A mature feral dragon bore down on the keep at incredible speed. The barrier would be first tested from outside.
Striking the plasma barrier jaws first, the feral bull was all aggression. A loud crackling and a blinding pulse of light reported the impact. The thunderclap was almost immediate and made Sinjin's head ring. The feral continued forward, wings extended, but the life was gone from its eyes. Slamming into the timbers framing the main entrance, it reduced one wooden gate to rubble and flying splinters. Sinjin supposed there wasn't much need for the gates any longer since it was now clear nothing living could get in or out of Dragonhold.
* * *
Catrin Volker woke in her chambers. A herald globe rested in the stand as it always had, though the light it gave was soft and dull. It would soon need to be charged. Sleep played tricks with Catrin's memories. She almost expected to see Prios walk in with trays of food from the kitchens. Her chest tightened as she prayed that very thing would happen, hoped against hope for all the terrible things to be naught but a dream. It was not to be so.
Looking around with fresher eyes, Catrin's belongings were just as they had been. This surprised her since she knew Trinda had sent Sinjin's belongings with him when she banned him from Dragonhold. This one small thing Catrin was thankful to Trinda for. Here there were ties to her old life, to a happier time when she and Prios and Sinjin had been a family.
When the door did open, it was Chase who entered with food. The sight almost made Catrin cry for a multitude of reasons, but mostly she was happy to see Chase.
"Stay there," Chase said. "You need the rest."
Catrin sat on the edge of the bed despite his protests. She hated trying to eat while lying down.
"How are they doing?" Catrin asked.
Chase knew whom she meant. "Sinjin, Kendra, and the rest are uneasy and still trying to figure out what to do with themselves. Trinda's guards don't quite know what to do either, and so far they've given us run of the keep except for the halls where Trinda's quarters are. We haven't seen a single sign of her. I assume she has the good sense to rest."
Catrin snorted.
"Kenward and Brother Vaughn have been looking after Allette," Chase continued, not acknowledging the outburst. "No one's been killed yet, so it's going reasonably well."
"I need a way to get word to someone outside of Dragonhold," Catrin said.
Chase considered this for a moment. "Who?"
"Anyone who'll listen," Catrin said with a hint of desperation in her voice.
"What about the stone forest?" Chase asked. "When you're better rested, we can try to get you there and see if you can contact Jharmin or Ohmahold."
"Perhaps," Catrin said. "The keystones fell into disuse once everyone knew Trinda could hear every word."
"You just never know," Chase said. "They may have people posted to eavesdrop just as Trinda has. I suppose there's the chance it won't even work without Istra's light." His mood soured as he talked himself out of his own idea.
"I understand why Sinjin is here, since Trinda summoned the dragons, but why are Benjin and Kenward here?"
"Kenward came after Trinda offered to open trade with Windhold in exchange for the stone thrones from the Slippery Eel," Chase answered, but Catrin's smile brought the realization to him as well. "No. You need to rest. Absolutely not!"
Chapter 16
Fortune favors the reckless but abhors the unlucky.
--Mundin Barr, speculator
* * *
It took hours for Strom to open his eyes, but the man eventually relaxed, if only just a little.
"Grekka won't let anything happen to you," Durin had told him. He wasn't certain it helped.
Osbourne had quickly grown accustomed to flight adragonback. "This is so much better than an airship! You're an extension of the dragon."
The Dragon Clan shared his enthusiasm. Durin didn't say anything, knowing he and Strom would probably be more at home on the Serpent or the Dragon's Wing. Durin had often chided Sinjin about his lack of control over Valterius. It had been more than just a little inconvenient on numerous occasions, but now he knew just how Sinjin had felt: helpless. He tried talking to Valterius but had no way to know if the dragon understood him. He wasn't certain how the dragon would communicate back even if he did understand. It was frustrating beyond belief.
The dragons knew what had happened to his friends, but they could not or would not tell him. Choosing to believe the former was easier than venting impotent rage on Valterius. He was fortunate to have worked with his mount from the time he was a hatchling. They already trusted each other.
Strom and Osbourne were at a disadvantage, but Osbourne and Atherian were bonding. Grekka checked on Strom often, as if worried her passenger might have died. Strom refused to move for fear of causing them both to fall from the skies. It was an unreasonable fear since dragons were designed to fly and could easily compensate for his shifting weight. Deep-set fears were rarely subject to reason.
Early in their flight, D
urin had searched Sinjin's saddlebags for any sign of what had happened to him and the others. He'd found nothing beyond salted fish and mealcakes. Neither had appealed to him at the time, but now the coarsely ground grains in the mealcakes were just sweet enough to offset the fish's saltiness. The others had also found basic rations, but it would not be enough to get them . . . The uncertainty was maddening. How could he plan when he had no idea where they were going or what they would find there?
When the Keys of Terhilian came into view, the Terhilian Lovers at least confirmed they were, indeed, flying toward the Godfist. That was until Valterius led the other dragons lower and landed on the beaches beneath the statues. The mighty table brought here for the Council of the Known Lands rested at an angle, partially submerged in sand and making for an unnerving sight. Half a dozen ornate chairs surrounded the table in disarray. Other chairs had been carried far down the beach by tidal waters. Everything about the sight was creepy and spoke of the perils they faced.
Nipping at the straps securing him, Valterius made it clear Durin was to dismount. It was his way of saying, "Get off or I'll remove you."
Dragons landed along the beach, their riders looking to Durin. After he unstrapped himself, the Drakon did the same, equally reluctant but given no more choice in the matter. Valterius nudged Durin toward a chair that was mostly submerged in the sand, and he leaped back into the air. The other dragons followed, and Durin was left to wonder what it was he was supposed to do.
"Firewood," Strom said.
Grateful for the big, practical man, Durin cursed himself for being so dense. Soon the chairs had been reduced to kindling, and Strom set to work using flint Osbourne had found in his saddlebags and shavings from a chair leg. Fishing would be difficult without wire or hooks.
Valterius proved himself once again when he plunged his claws into the waters off shore and landed a fish half as long as a man was tall. He had thought Valterius might be hunting for his own meal until the dragon came soaring back toward them. Durin took two steps back as the dragon approached, aiming straight for him. Valterius was a few paces away when he released the still fighting fish from his claws. The fish caught Durin full in the chest and drove him back into the sand.
As unpleasant and uncalled for as it was, at least he knew what he was supposed to do. "Let's get the best impromptu smokehouse we can set up and preserve as much of Valterius's gift as we can," he said.
Strom said the table would be perfect if they could manage to cut a couple pieces off. They had no tools capable of cutting the thick table. Grekka proved no tools were required. After dropping the fish she'd caught nicely at Strom's feet, she looked up to Durin. He did his best to make gestures indicating what they needed. Stepping up, the dragon looked the table over and sniffed. Then she clamped down her powerful jaws and snapped off a section large enough to lean against what was sunken in the sand and form a workable smokehouse. Before the dragon completely disassembled the table, Durin stepped in.
"We need more wood to burn," Strom said.
Walking down the beach, searching for more chairs or driftwood, they gathered what he could find. The dragons had begun to eat their catches, and Durin watched them as he searched. None of this could be happening to him, and he walked as if in a dream. With few more answers than when they had left Windhold, he moved back to where skilled hands deftly cleaned the fish brought back by the dragons. It wasn't nearly enough wood. Osbourne joined him in the search, and they looked for a place where they might be able to climb up to wooded areas of the island, but the cliffs here were similar in height and steep grade.
"I have to admit I never saw this coming," Durin said as they walked.
Osbourne smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "The world once made sense," Osbourne said wistfully, "but that was before the return of Istra changed everything."
* * *
After weeks of anticipation, the Godfist came into view, and a sick feeling came over Durin. Did he really want to know the Drakon's fate? he asked himself. Though he and his fellow Dragon Clan flew with the Drak, none considered themselves true Drakon. No matter what he said, they were but passengers upon dragons belonging to others. Belonging was not the right word, but he knew no suitable way to describe the relationship between dragon and rider. Grekka flew in close; Strom looked almost comfortable in the saddle but not quite. The desire to get out of the saddle and stretch his legs was almost unbearable. Yet they were probably safest right where he was. There had been breaks in their flight that had allowed for time swimming when islands and sand bars weren't an option. Even accompanied by the dragons, Durin had feared swimming in such deep waters. More than once he'd regretted squandering the chance to loosen his sore muscles.
"There was a time when I longed for my homeland," Strom said, "but now I dread it."
His words reminded Durin of his own feelings. Trinda controlled Dragonhold, at least as far as he knew, and he'd never been very nice to her. Putting himself back under her control was something he wanted to avoid at almost all cost. The Drakon were not an acceptable bargain, though, and he had to steel himself to the possibilities. He'd have answers soon, whether he liked them or not.
The upper Pinook Valley appeared to be completely deserted, and Durin was saddened by how short a time the settlements had survived. He didn't blame the people for retreating into Dragonhold rather than being exposed to enemy dragons. Still, it bothered him and left his homeland scarred and dead. The feeling persisted and when they reached the plateau, they found it bathed in unnatural blue light. Instants later, Dragonhold came into view. Had he not been strapped in, Durin might have fallen from the saddle. Gasps of dismay burst from those around him despite the well-known need for stealth.
"By the gods," Strom said, though he kept his voice low.
Rising from within the land like giant dragon claws, symmetrical stone leviathans engulfed Dragonhold in their embrace. Power, embodied in sheets of blue flame, reached between the claws. The air sang with energy, and everyone could feel it. It was like a sunburn but more intense and coming from something on Godsland. Were Sinjin and the rest of the Drakon in there? Had Trinda summoned them just to imprison them?
Valterius was keeping his distance from this domelike structure until a sudden change in direction sent them straight for it. Durin cried out, thinking Valterius would send them plunging into the blue fire and to their certain deaths. A blast of hot air then warmed his back, and he turned to see a feral dragon closing in on them and more coming. There was no time to shout a warning to the others; Durin was too busy holding on and ducking beneath feral claws.
Picking up speed, Valterius narrowly evaded the closest feral and changed direction again only once they were almost upon the fiery barrier. Then he sent them climbing the almost vertical face. The feral's mass kept it moving forward, and it slammed into the barrier, passing through. For an instant, Durin dared to hope the barrier was but an illusion, but then lightning struck the feral from multiple directions, and the already dead dragon slammed into the cliff face before sliding down, taking out an expansive section of the wooden stair and the fortifications around it.
Breathing hard, Durin leaned forward in the stirrups and connected with Valterius. The dragon provided subtle cues as to which direction he would turn next, giving him just enough time to anticipate it. This made evasive flying far less abusive on his body, and Durin would've shared the tip if he'd been able to speak. Ferals closed in from multiple directions, and "flitting" was the best way to describe Valterius's evasive maneuvers. He'd seen birds do it, but being on the back of a flitting dragon was like being stuffed in a barrel and rolled down a hill.
The other regals were also hard pressed. Behind them a dragons screamed; a regal and feral dragon locked in a deadly dance. Though smaller, the regal dragon, Vartika, managed to bite down on a critical wing joint, sending both dragons and Jerrel into a fatal dive. Durin couldn't watch. Valterius bellowed and the regals responded. The number of dragons roaring g
ave him heart, and he crouched over Valterius's neck.
"We can do this," he said. "Together, we can do this."
* * *
The flight from the Godfist was far less harrowing than it could have been, though the anguish of leaving loved ones behind weighed heavily on them all. The feral dragons had chased them out to sea but had then returned to guard Dragonhold. If the ferals were there, Allette was likely there as well. Given the choice, Durin would have to pick Trinda. She was completely unhinged, but at least she didn't have dragons. He wondered about that a moment. If Trinda had summoned all the dragons, did she have control over them? Only a fool would draw such dangerous creatures otherwise. Trinda was insane but she was not stupid. He must assume she had some control over the dragons, which put her a step ahead of almost everyone else. The Drakon had formed an alliance with the regal dragons, but who was actually in control of that relationship was a matter of some debate. Given the current circumstances, he knew which side of the argument he fell on. He would have chosen to circle back to the Arghast Desert and regroup, but Valterius no longer responded to anything he did. It was as if Durin had ceased to exist in the dragon's world, and it infuriated him. Those who flew alongside him were no more at ease with the lack of control they had over their future. Not for the first time, he pondered the motivations of dragons.
Endless waves passed beneath them with almost nothing to break the monotony. Occasional aquatic life or patches of seaweed were welcome sights since they were something other than ubiquitous waves. Their supplies had long since dwindled, and no one had even the faintest idea of where they were going. Strom, Osbourne, and Durin speculated about their destination, but the midday heat was better suited to silence. Sweat ran into Durin's eyes, and he wondered how much longer they would last. No land had been spotted since the Falcon Isles, and Durin feared the dragons would arrive at the Greatland with corpses on their backs.