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Newly coronated QueenSyla Moonmark grinned like a little girl as she rode upon the great red dragon Wreylith, who wheeled and dipped and dove above the croplands and pastures of Castle Island. Oh, Syla was occasionally terrified she might fall and constantly worried the wind would rip off her spectacles, but she kept her hands flattened to the dragon’s scaled back and used her gods-gifted power to create tendrils of magic that anchored her in place. Whenever Wreylith dove, the grin returned, and Syla relished the breeze whipping about her auburn locks and flapping the hem of her dress. Usually, only stormer dragon riders knew such exhilaration.
Thinking of them reminded Syla of her mission, and she tapped Wreylith. “You’re still heading toward Harvest Island so we can observe what our enemies are up to, right? While General Dolok has been polite and obedient in carrying out my orders—almost oddly so—he’s been palpably reluctant to keep me informed about the war. The only thing he’s admitted is that our warships dare not go near the island because dragons attack them every time. It’s also not safe to sail tootherislands to deliver messages and supplies right now.”
Though her military leaders had assured Syla in a meeting that morning that they had numerous plans poised to launch, she believed it would be up to her to return a shielder to Harvest Island. That was the only certain way to deny their enemies a base within the waters of the Garden Kingdom. Too bad she’d lost the magical components needed to repair the broken shielder from Castle Island. Those were currently nestled in a stormer base somewhere.
“Fortunately, I have another plan,” she murmured. “Assuming my dragon ally can assist me with it.”
Wreylith responded telepathically.I am indeed flying toward the island that, without the protection of a magical barrier, is exposed to dragons who are denuding the forests of elioks and other delicious prey.
Syla glanced at the new dragon-shaped tattoo on the back of her left hand, an outward sign of the bond that Wreylith had magically granted her. During the ceremony, they’d promised to assist each other as needed, but Wreylith might also have been motivated by a desire to hunt on shielded Castle Island, something the link allowed as long as Syla was present. Wreylith had suggested she would enjoy it if Syla journeyed to other protected islands in the Garden Kingdom as well, islands that dragons, wyverns, and other aerial predators usually could not access. And denude. The hunting, Wreylith assured her, would be exquisite.
“I only ask because we’re flying around the western end of Castle Island, and you keep eyeing the forests edging the pastures, instead of south to Harvest Island.”
Many domesticated stormer dragons lurk on Harvest Island, and they will have the ability to see and sense me as I approach. It will be ideal if we wait until twilight to gather your intelligence.
“Won’t they sense your powerful approach no matter what time of day it is?”
We need not get that close to observe their activities. Dragon eyes are keen. Twilight will be best.
“Isn’t that about the time that your favored horn hogs are most active?” Syla waved toward the woodlands along a pasture they were flying over. “And come out of the trees to drink from the irrigation canals?”
Maybe Wreylith wanted to hunt onmultipleislands this evening.
Many delicious prey are active at that time of day, yes. The stormer dragons will be more likely to be hunting than lurking around the population centers that you desire to visit.
“Not visit. Check on them from afar to determine if my plan would be possible.”
At twilight, checking will be easier.
“Are you sure you don’t just want to hunt then yourself? I?—”
Wreylith must have spotted something moving in the trees or the pasture because she dove abruptly. Startled, Syla leaned forward and flattened herhands to the dragon’s back again.
Wreylith’s wings folded to her sides, and her head pointed downward. Syla’s weight threatened to send her tumbling forward, her spectacles shifting on her nose despite the strap around her head, but she willed more power into her anchors. The quarter-moon birthmark on her right hand flared silver as she drew upon her magic.
At top speed, Wreylith descended so rapidly that Syla feared they would crash into the pasture. But the dragon’s wings extended at the last instant, and her head came up on her long neck. They skimmed over high grass, yellow as summer transitioned into autumn, and rustled the seed heads as Wreylith chased a bristle-backed hog with two horns protruding from the top of its head.
The creature raced through the pasture toward what it believed was the safety of the trees, but it wasn’t fast enough. Wreylith caught up, flew above its back for a moment, then snapped her powerful jaws downward, catching the animal behind the skull. With a loud crunching of bone, she broke the hog’s neck. Wings flapping again, she lifted the dying creature from the ground and carried it to a stone wall that divided the pasture from a well-tended garden and farmhouse.
After Wreylith perched, biting and chewing sounds drifted up to Syla.
“Uhm, do you want me to get off?” Syla looked skyward, uncomfortably reminded of the wyverns that had descended upon the castle after the stormer invasion. Like giant scaled vultures, they’d feasted on the dead in the courtyard.
Do you wish to join me in this meal? Though you did not contribute to the slaying of the horn hog, I am not ravenous and would allow you to partake in a small and less desirable portion. The intestines are often stuffed with the remains of partially digested vegetation and are not as appealing as the delicious heart, liver, and tongue. I do love tongue meat. It is hearty and delectable.
“I… Being bonded isn’t exactly like what I expected. I wish I’d been able to have more chats with Vorik so I could have asked him about his relationship with Agrevlari.”
Wreylith issued a noise between a grunt and grumble at the reminder of the green dragon that she’d mated with while under the influence of magical cactus flowers that had inspired randiness in their entire party. Surprisingly, she didn’t say anything insulting about him, but that was probably only because she was busy noshing on delectable tongue meat.
While the dragon ate, Syla thought of Vorik, preferring to picture his handsome face and brilliant smile in her mind over vulturous wyverns or the images that discussing Wreylith’sculinary preferences brought up. Sylashouldn’thave been thinking about Vorik, since he and his lieutenant had been the ones to steal the rare magical shielder components. But… she’d mostly lost them due to her own foolish choice, so she couldn’t entirely blame him. Besides, she intended to get them back. These past few days, she’d been scheming up ways to retrieve them. Vorik figured more prominently in those schemes than he probably should have as she envisioned seducing him and questioning him to learn their location. Even if he was her enemy, she struggled to think of him that way, and he remained a fixture in her dreams at night. An active fixture withveryskilled hands that could make her body?—
Wreylith flicked her neck, and something splatted onto the stone wall beside her. Were those… intestines?
“Thanks,” Syla said, “but I ate before leaving. I’m fine.”
The door to the farmhouse opened, and Syla’s instinct was to duck low or even jump behind the stone wall to hide. Horn hogs were wild, not domesticated livestock raised by farmers, but they’d landed on someone’s property, and she promptly felt guilty of trespassing.
