Dragon let out such a belch, it almost flattened Princess Azania’s hair.
“Dragon!” Inzashu squealed.
“It’s cultural,” said her sister. “When among Dragons, you will need to learn to burp – like this. Brrraaa-ooouu-arrrpp!”
“What a rip-snorter!” Dragon approved.
Inzashu-N’shula had a helpless fit of the giggles. They had no idea how rude it was to belch in Skartun, clearly. People had been murdered for lesser offences. Often.
With four little Humans to guard during the nights, Dragon had to spread himself wider than before. He took the Princesses upon his forepaws and nestled the other pair in the crook of his tail, spreading his wing over them later on to ward off the night chill. Four cosy fleas – meant in the fondest sense of the word, of course. Oops. Fleas preferred fur to scales. Pah!
His kind always slept with one eye open a crack. Nothing bothered them out here, however. Come a dawn of towering sky fires over the ruddy desert, they broke camp and flew on, ever northward, seeking the next landmark of the broad, sluggish and highly dangerous Skaggar River that divided the Blood Desert from the Umber Steppes.
He flew fast but in shorter stretches for Yarimda’s sake. The barren crimson rock of the Blood Desert passed beneath them all morning, about half a mile below. Before noon, they already caught sight of the turquoise, meandering river in the distance.
“Dragons on our tail,” Azania gasped.
“What?” He turned his neck sharply. “Gnarr, I wasn’t paying attention. Pass my spectacles, please?”
“The clouds didn’t help,” the Princess pointed out. “Must have been trailing us for a good few miles to have gotten this close. Shrewd.”
Inzashu inquired, “Are they friendly, Dragon?”
He took a long look. “I highly doubt it. Those are no Dragons I’ve ever seen around the Tamarine Mountains. Judging by the wing angles and speed, my guess is that they’re chasing us.”
“Terror Clan?” Azania guessed.
“Spavined rock-chewing lizards!” he gritted between his fangs. “Aye, that’s a good call. Three adult male greens. Three on one is not cheerful odds.”
“Three on five.”
“Princess, I – I should have kept a better watch. They’re already too close to hide from or outfly. I’m heavily loaded.”
“You are indeed,” Azania agreed. “Yardi, can you handle a bow and supply Dragon with quarrels? I’ll set up the Dragon bow up top. Inzashu, there’s a bow and arrows in the gear beside your left knee. Yarimda –er …”
“I can handle a bow,” she said.
“Good,” he agreed.
“Dragon, remember what Juggernaut said about protecting your Rider with your wings?”
“Aye. We mustn’t let them get too close. I can handle anything coming in from below, but it’s the vertical attack that’ll be problematic given the way we’re burdened. If they’re smart, they’ll figure that out straight away. Girls – ladies, even – helmets and protective gear, please. It’s very likely we’re going to feel some flame. Our strategy will be to lure them in, then try to get shots away with the Dragon bows and my flame, which has a range no Dragon will expect. Yarimda says it’s far hotter as well. If we can incapacitate one and wound another in that first tangle, we’ll stand a chance.”
Quietly, for him alone, Yarimda whispered, Three on one is deadly odds, Dragon. We’ve put you in mortal danger.
I’ve never run from vengeful Terror Clan Dragons before, honoured Yarimda. This was completely unexpected. My question is, where did they come from and how much do they know about our capabilities?
Aye, right you are. You’ve got this, Dragon. Courage!
Stretching his wings to gain altitude, he led the greens on a merry chase toward the canyon from which the Skaggar River poured down out of the mountains. This gave his crew time to arm themselves. They donned gloves and helms in addition to their armour, and even neck protection meant to ensure that at least a quick blast of Dragon fire would not penetrate. Meantime, the trio of greens came on fast, flying aggressively to catch up.
Would there be a nice river cavern down there in which to hide, change the odds …
“Spectacles, Dragon,” Azania reminded him.
“Thanks. Yarimda?”
“I’ll pack them away, young Dragon.”
“What’s in the river that’s so dangerous?” Yardi inquired meantime. “Pretty colour but quite shallow, I think. How many quarrels, Dragon?”
“Three, please.”
Azania said, “Shoals of carnivorous fish. Nasty creatures. I once saw a trader who had managed to bring some down to N’ginta Citadel, wanting my father to breed them in the water cisterns. Father suggested the man jump into a barrel with his own fish. Never had time for fools.”
Dragon! Stop and fight, you slack-winged coward! Donkey! I spit upon your ancestors’ accursed eggs!
“Donkey? Sure getting creative,” he growled. “I guess that confirms the friendliness angle. So, team, do we wait for them to take up their positions, or shall we spring an ambush of our own?”
“Ambush,” said three voices.
Yardi threw up her hands. “Whatever keeps us alive!”
Whirling on his wingtip in a Juggernaut-approved aerial tactic, he kept his momentum moving away from the chasing Dragons, contrary to expectation. All three almost stalled as they anticipated the attack. Picking the nearest target, Dragon charged him, bellowing, Terror Clan scum!
He did not give the roar his all. Save that surprise for closer combat.
Ho, brothers, it’s the flying turd from T’nagru!
So, they knew. How? Where was their lair, their base?
Closing to within a hundred feet, he and Azania unleashed quarrels simultaneously. The enemy green shimmered and split in two! The quarrels hurtled uselessly through nothingness.
Azania spluttered, “What the –”
Suddenly, he was charging at something he knew to be an illusion
