“I know. Trust me, I know.”
Marvola sighed but didn’t outright object to the idea of fighting them.
“More than that,” Vorik said, “we may need to battle the storm god himself. If that can even be done.”
“Some of our legends from the past speak of men who challenged the gods. It never went well for them.”
“I know. We may have to leave that for Queen Syla. She’s… Well, I think the other gods like her. More than they like me anyway, judging by the assistance she’s received along the way. They may not know I exist.”
“The legends also suggest it’s better to go unnoticed by the gods.”
Vorik grunted. “It may be too late for that. I think if we—and I appreciate you not turning your back at the mere suggestion that we be awe—” Vorik waved toward Marvola and then himself, “—stop the dragons who are now flocking to the storm god, maybe that’ll be enough.”
Marvola looked pensively through the trees and toward the sea.
“Are you willing to do that? Are your bonded dragons?” Vorik looked not only at the chieftess but at the others who’d been listening in.
“Hymarlin would be if our land ended up being near a place where sword iglets might be acquired and brought out to him regularly,” one of the riders said of his dragon. “I’d do it for some more of that nut spread.”
Marvola chuckled. “Me too.”
“Let’s see who we can round up and take to the Kingdom to help. Does anyone know where the Freeborn Faction is camped now? We could use the assistance of their dragons too.” As it stood, Vorik had a feeling that more dragons had gone to answer the storm god’s call than had stayed. Unless his side could gain more allies, they would be outnumbered.
“Are you going to talk them into helping you?” Marvola asked. “After we’ve been battling their dragons these past weeks?”
“I’ll have to. I know Chieftess Atilya fairly well. Maybe she’ll listen.” Vorik didn’t point out that his most recent interaction with the faction leader had involved her drugging him. “If nothing else, I think Igliana will listen.”
“Who’s that?”
“The young orange dragon. She’s a relative of Wreylith’s, I believe, and she must like Syla. She rescued her from Jhiton.” Vorik nodded to himself. If he could learn where they werecamped, maybe he would go straight to the faction dragons and bypass Atilya.
“I don’t honestly know how many of our people—and dragon allies—will be willing to fight our own kind for a camp in the Kingdom, but I’ll stand with you when you suggest it.” Marvola pointed back into the cave to suggest Vorik should speak to all the stormers, not merely a few chiefs.
“I think we’re going to be fighting for the future of theworld, not only a camp. I can’t believe unleashing the mad storm god is going to be a boon for anyone, not anyone human anyway. If the dragons that left want to fight for his return, it’s because they wouldn’t mind our lives being ended.”
Marvola’s expression turned grim, but she didn’t argue.
“All right. Let’s go back and talk to the others.” Vorik turned back toward the cave but paused, spotting and sensing a powerful female dragon flying down from the north and heading in the direction Jhiton and the others had gone. She had a rider with silver hair. “It looks like Captain Lesva has found another dragon.”
Was she heading to the Kingdom to help Jhiton? Or to again attempt to kill Syla?
“Come, Chieftess,” Vorik said, breaking into a jog. “We don’t have much time to round up allies.”
When Wreylith reached the lighthouse, gliding in for a landing, a white-haired man in uniform stood on a platform at the top in front of a large telescope pointed across Castle Island toward Harvest Island. That had to be General Dolok. From the elevated position, the volcano was probably visible. Without a doubt, the forbidding dark clouds were.
The face that turned toward them as Syla and Oyenar climbed off Wreylith’s back and onto the platform didn’t appear surprised by their arrival. Yes, that was General Dolok, but his customary stern and disapproving expression was missing.
“That’s an interesting position from which to command a fleet, Dolok,” Oyenar said, standing at Syla’s shoulder to face the general.
“I’m sure his troops can find him and deliver reports and carry away orders,” she said, though she didn’t see any sign of troops. A solitary horse was tied to the hitching post below, snorting and looking up at Wreylith with concerned eyes. “I guess this isn’t where Lord Fograth has his base of operations.”
“It’s not.” Dolok had also been eyeing Wreylith, his hand near the hilt of a sword belted at his waist, but he didn’t draw the weapon. He took a bracing breath and focused on Syla and Oyenar.
“I’m here to exchange a few words with you, General,” Oyenar said.
“I suppose, based on the reports I’ve received, it’s not surprising that you’ve come on her behalf.” Dolok tilted his head toward Syla and said with a sort of bleak politeness, “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”
His willingness to use her title surprised Syla.
