of his portly tormentor.
There was a loud boom at his back. He couldn't turn his head to see the source of the whistling noise as it raced through the air toward him, then past him.
A black steel ball trailed smoke toward the catapult where Sagen waited. It landed at the base of the wooden war engine.
There was a flash of light and heat, and a clap of noise that made his teeth rattle. Dirt and smoke was thrown into the sky. Vulpine raced ever closer to where his son had been.
There was nothing left atop the hill but a smoking crater.
Before he could change his direction, he plunged into the smoke. Suddenly, the weight on his tail vanished, and the pig let out a loud squeal. Vulpine tried to flap his wings but the ground turned out to be only inches below him. He crashed onto the burning earth, rolling to a halt against a broad, splintered beam that had once been the arm of the catapult.
His left wing felt broken. He flapped his right wing to try to clear the smoky air.
Something moved in the smoke before him.
The pig?
It drew closer.
Jeremiah.
The boy held Vulpine's knife in his hand.
'We saw where you fell,' he said.
Vulpine rose up, supporting his weight against the beam as he unlooped his whip. He coughed as the smoke choked him.
'That knife's too dangerous for you to play with, boy,' said Vulpine. He flipped the whip back over his shoulder, intending to bring it forward and strike the knife away. At the far reach of his back stroke, the whip snagged and yanked from his grasp. He looked over his shoulder and saw the giant who'd dived to save the boy standing behind him, the braided leather wrapped in his enormous fist.
He turned back to face the boy.
Only now the dark-haired girl was in front of him. She had twin rows of puncture wounds along both cheeks that painted long stripes of blood down her face.
Unlike her earlier blankness, this time she smiled.
'We're… on… the… ground,' she whispered. Her right hand closed around the knife still jutting from his breastbone. He trembled as she pulled the blade free.
BURKE WATCHED THE drama unfold in his spy-owl, frustrated by the smoke that obscured his sight. He let out a slow sigh of relief as Anza limped from the cloud. Jeremiah followed close behind, with Poocher trotting along beside him. The pig was covered in soot and had somehow lost all of the quivers that had been draped over him, along with his visor and the wings.
Finally, Stonewall stumbled out of the cloud. He had a large blue bundle tossed over his shoulder. Burke dialed the spy-owl to its sharpest focus and saw a limp sky-dragon, its jaws bound with what looked like a whip.
Burke stood up, stretching his shoulders. He'd folded up his wings after carrying the spy-owl onto the wall. The wings were so big, he'd been worried he might accidentally knock someone over the battlements. He grabbed his crutch and turned around.
Ragnar stood behind him. 'I've killed five men to reach you,' the prophet whispered. The big man wasn't carrying any weapons, but his chest was matted with blood. His hands shot out and grabbed Burke by the throat.
Burke's eyes bulged as the hairy man squeezed.
'Dragon Forge is mine!' the prophet hissed.
Behind Ragnar came the sound of rushing footsteps. The prophet turned his head just in time to see a large leather satchel swung at him. There was an explosion of paper as the bag caught the prophet across his face and ripped at the seams. Books flew everywhere. The prophet's fingers slipped from Burke's throat and the hairy man tumbled over the edge of the wall.
Burke looked down, wincing at the noise Ragnar's body made as it hit the ground.
Thorny knelt where the prophet had stood seconds before. He picked up remains of a very large book.
'The Oxford English Dictionary,' said Thorny. Loose pages fluttered out of the ancient binding. 'Shay's going to have a fit when he sees what I've done to it.'
Burke put his hand on his friend's shoulder. 'He'll understand,' said Burke. 'He brought these books here because he thought that knowledge in the hands of mankind could strike a blow for freedom. You've simply taken the concept to a higher level.'
THE WEEKS PASSED in relative quiet. With the blockade broken, it didn't take long for supplies to trickle back into the fort along with the news. The Dragon Palace remained empty after Chapelion had abandoned it and returned to the College of Spires, taking the remnants of the aerial guard with him. Albekizan's kingdom split apart at the seams as the patchwork quilt of fiefdoms he'd stitched together through decades of war came unraveled.
Among the news, there was one thread that remained constant: the story of a golden dragon who flew from castle to castle announcing himself the anti-king. He demanded no taxes or soldiers; he declared no law save for one: any dragon who dared to declare himself king beyond the border of his own small world could count on the golden dragon as a mortal enemy.
It was a warm spring day when the rifles began to bark out along the walls. Burke stood up on his newly- fashioned spring driven leg and walked to the window. Floating toward the center of town, landing near the rebuilt well, was a golden beast the size and shape of a sun-dragon. Sparks flew from the creature's hide as rifle balls bounced off its golden shell.
The glass in the window next to Burke shattered into a thousand pieces as a stray ball struck it. He stepped to the freshly opened window and shouted, 'Hold your fire!'
Instantly, the order was relayed from man to man, 'Hold your fire! Burke says hold your fire!' A moment later, all guns fell silent.
Burke walked to the elevator and rode it down into the foundry. The rumble of work carried on as usual. The machinery in the foundry was so loud that the workers hadn't heard the commotion on the streets.
Burke stepped out into the bright sunlight. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that the flowers in the window boxes on the building across the way were blooming. Now that more women had arrived, Dragon Forge looked less like a fort and more like a town.
He walked toward the dragon, who gazed at him with emerald eyes that shimmered amidst the gold.
'Burke,' said the dragon. 'You're looking fit.'
Burke supposed he was. Some bit of good fortune had spared him from coming down with yellow-mouth, and in the weeks since he'd taken command of the fort he'd been sleeping well. Victory had a pleasant affect upon his constitution.
He shielded his eyes with his hands as he studied the gleaming dragon. 'You're looking particularly robust yourself,' said Burke.
'You recognize me?' asked the dragon.
'Hex,' said Burke. 'Bitterwood told me about your new look.'
'Bitterwood has been here?'
'He's been here almost two weeks. He and Zeeky and Jeremiah took over an abandoned farm about five miles downriver. Once Shay and Jandra set up their school, he wants the children to learn to read and write.'
'It's difficult to imagine Bitterwood behind a plow,' said Hex.
'He won't be behind one for long,' said Burke. 'He had me design a plow harness for Skitter. With the speed of that beast, I imagine he'll get his fields done in a few hours.'
Hex nodded slowly, as if savoring the image.
'You aren't here to catch up on old times,' said Burke.
'True,' said Hex.
'You've come back from Atlantis as some sort of superdragon. You're strong enough to pull down a castle with your bare talons, I hear.'
'The twists of fate have been kind to me.'
