I’ll bet.Jhiton didn’t try to rein in his bitterness. If his brother hadn’t turned, the outcome might have been different.
Light ahead took his mind from the thought, and he swam toward it. He’d found the shaft, and that was daylight seeping down from above. It had been night when he’d arrived, so he must have been unconscious for many hours. His salty tomb must have been airtight at first, keeping the flood from engulfing him—drowning him—and only after the salt had eroded had water made its way in.
When Jhiton had entered the mine, there had been a lift and chains in the shaft. Now, when he looked up, he saw neither, buthe was surprised to sense someone familiar up there, someone with magical power.
Captain Lesva? Had she also survived the flood and climbed out? Or had she been dragged out and chained as a prisoner?
Can you tell if there are guards above me, Ozlemar?Jhiton sensed the dragon was now flying high overhead, just above the island’s barrier.
The last of the Kingdom troops are leaving in wagons. A short time ago, a sinkhole in the road swallowed one of their conveyances, so they decided the ground was too unstable to remain. How tedious it must be not to have wings.
Very tedious, yes.Jhiton was about to ask the dragon if he saw Lesva, but she’d been on the move and had disappeared from his senses. He could have spoken telepathically with her, but his head was still throbbing and the thought of making the effort made it worse. He wanted to crawl under a tree, curl up on his side, and lie there until he recovered—or he died.
But he had to climb out first. With no other way to escape, Jhiton found a handhold on the side of the shaft and started a laborious ascent. His pain grew more intense at the effort, and he almost passed out. But power flowed into him from somewhere, dulling the agony and giving him strength that his nearly fatal wound had sapped.
Youwillsurvive. It was not Ozlemar but the same voice that had spoken to him earlier.
To complete your task,Jhiton said, answering for the first time.
Yes.Laughter rang in his mind. It sounded mad.
Your brother has betrayed you and also betrayed all stormer-allied dragons,Ozlemar said as Jhiton climbed.Will you kill him?
Thinking of the other speaker, Jhiton had a feeling thetaskhe’d been saved so that he could perform would require it.
Yes.
1
Queen Syla Moonmark pluckedseaweed off the marble post of the weapons platform strapped to the deck of theFanged Whale, one of five ships Lord Oyenar had lent to her for the return voyage to Castle Island where her usurped throne waited. She bared her teeth at the thought of dealing with the upstart Lord Favrik Fograth, who’d taken advantage of her being away, fighting dragons and stormers invading her kingdom. He’d swapped out her family’s flag on the castle and presumed to anoint himself… whatever he was calling himself. King? She didn’t yet know.
“Will it perform less adequately if it’s draped in seaweed?” Dragon-rider Captain Vorik asked as he walked up behind her, his hands clasped behind his back, his wrists free of shackles.
Over the course of the day’s voyage, Major Hixun had attempted numerous times to try to talk Syla into chaining herprisoner. Even now, the uniformed officer stood nearby, eyeing Vorik balefully, a set of shackles draped over his shoulder in case she changed her mind.
“I’ve seen it dropped a thousand feet by dragons, assaulted with explosives, and sunk to the bottom of Prominence River.I’m positive a piece of seaweed won’t keep it from firing magical projectiles at enemy dragons.” Syla plucked off a clump of dried grass. The adornments were courtesy of the recent river-sinking.
“It’s a good thing we don’t have any ofthosearound here.” Untamed black hair tousled by the wind, Vorik looked toward the wheelhouse.
The great red dragon, Wreylith, perched there, gazing suspiciously at another dragon. A few minutes ago, Agrevlari, the green dragon bonded to Vorik, had dared soar close, but he hadn’t presumed to land on the ship. Instead, he’d settledbehindit, lying on his back and floating on the waves, his fanged maw fastened lightly to a rope dangling from the stern of theFanged Whale. In the aftermath of numerous storms, the sun was out, and Agrevlari appeared to be tanning his belly. Could scales tan? Perhaps not.
“Also, for your edification, asingleexplosive tucked into one of four massive cannon-like columns,” Vorik said, waving at one of the posts supporting the bed and canopy of the marble structure, “doesn’t qualify as an assault.”
“We could check a dictionary when we get back, but I’m fairly certain the flinging of even a single explosive does indeed count as an assault.”
“My people have an oral tradition. We don’t use dictionaries.”
“So, you can make up and adjust the definitions of words on the fly?”
“Yes, it’s delightful.” Vorik smiled, though there was a haunted aspect to his emerald-green eyes that had been there since he’d pulled himself from the flooded mine, and he gazed past his sunning dragon toward the horizon. Bogberry Island, where her people had battled his, was no longer in view, but he was probably thinking of his lost brother.
Syla wished she could say something to help Vorik deal with the choices he’d made. She’d already told him that she loved him and wouldn’t say the words again while Major Hixun, Sergeant Fel, and several Royal Protectors stood within earshot. Aunt Tibby was also present, sitting cross-legged on the weapons platform with a book in her lap and the collection of magical components for repairing Harvest Island’s ancient shielder beside her. She, too, occasionally lifted her head to shoot Vorik baleful looks.
All the crew might have preferred if Syla had put him in a cell, but she didn’t truly consider him her prisoner, and she had no doubt he would be able to help when they arrived at Castle Island. She didn’t yet have a plan for reclaiming the throne, so she would have to… wing it. That was the dragon term, wasn’t it?
“That spot may need your attention.” Vorik pointed at dried mud caking a corner of the weapons platform.
“Maybeyoushould wipe it off.” Syla offered him the kerchief she’d requisitioned from Fel for the job. “It might think more fondly of you if you polished it.”
