Page 95 of Red Dragon
More than that possessed by a fertile dragon?Vorik’s hopes rose that they would not only find that ore but that some lay exposed at the surface.
Yes. This is?—
Abruptly, Agrevlari tilted sideways and into a dive, but he couldn’t go far, not with the bottom of the cavern scant feet below. Motion to the right made Vorik duck low. At the same time, a startled oath sounded ahead, followed by the screech of a dragon. Tonasketal.
A huge blade swept in from the side of the cavern, like one of the scythes the gardeners used to reap wheat and rye, but ten times the size. And the blade was edged in gargoyle bone. It swept through the air above Vorik’s head. A few inches lower, and it would have struck him and knocked him off his dragon—if not sliced through his skull.
The blade disappeared into a slit in the stone wall on the far side.
“Sir!” Wise blurted, the word drowned out by Tonasketal roaring again.
Had another scythe swung out to attack them? And struck the dragon?
Over Agrevlari’s head, Vorik glimpsed Tonasketal, his gray wings beating erratically. On his back, Wise struggled to stay on and keep hold of the amphora.
The floor of the cavern dropped away like a waterfall, descending vertically for dozens of feet before leveling off again. There were campfires at the bottom, burning between hides hung to denote sleeping areas. The teal glow—several teal glows—came from the back of the large cavern.
Agrevlari flew toward an open area, a possible landing spot, but men and women ran out from behind rock formations and the hide flaps. They carried bows and quivers full of arrows.
“Don’t land,” Vorik barked, though he looked longingly toward what had to be the ore he sought. “This was a trap.”
Maybe it hadn’t been a trap, simply defenses the inhabitants had set, but, either way, they didn’t look to welcome visitors.
Above them, the wounded Tonasketal had been trying to recover from being hit by a blade, but his wing clipped a stalactite, and he pitched sideways. Wise managed to stay on but lurched as the dragon tilted. The amphora tumbled from his grip.
Vorik cursed and, even as Agrevlari started flying up again, obeying the order not to land, Vorik sprang off his back. He dropped fifteen feet, landed in a crouch, and sprinted to catch the amphora before it hit the ground. The memory of catching Syla by the Kingdom lighthouse popped into his mind. She had been heavier than the amphora but much more pleasing to hold. At least he kept the ancient container from breaking.
Aware of the archers striding toward him with their bows, Vorik set it down and drew his sword, turning to face them. Agrevlari landed nearby, but two big dragons surged forward to keep him from breathing fire at the archers. More dragons crouched in the back of the cavern near the glowing ore.
Outnumbered, Vorik and Agrevlari would have to step lightly here.
Tonasketal recovered and landed twenty feet away. Wise scrambled off his back and joined Vorik. Unfortunately, they were still outnumbered.
“Sorry, sir,” Wise whispered, glancing at the amphora. “My dragon got an itch.”
“When you ally with creatures as mercurial as dragons, you must expect that occasional chaos will be thrown into your battle plans.” Vorik remembered his brother saying that aftertheirdragons had attacked each other over Wreylith, and was fairly certain he’d been quoting a famous rider of the past.
“No kidding.”
The archers moved to surround them. Vorik’s instincts made him want to run and put his back to a rock wall, but these people already looked irked and twitchy, like any sudden movements would prompt them to loose arrows.
Agrevlari growled at the two dragons that had approached. They stopped advancing, but they didn’t back away.
“It’s rude to enter a cave claimed by others without requesting permission beforehand,” came a woman’s voice from behind the archers.
“It’s also rude to try to slash the heads or wings off those flying into a cave that had no markings to indicate it was occupied,” Vorik said.
“Surely, our presence here couldn’t have been a complete surprise.”
“It was fairly surprising until Tonasketal detected a female in her fertile time.”
The archers parted to let the speaker through.
Vorik didn’t sheathe his sword, but he did lower it. Even though more than two-thirds of the people—the Freeborn Faction—were women, some were bonded with dragons, so hedared not underestimate them. Further, in addition to the two nearby dragons, four more were in the back of the cavern, perched directly on the glowing teal ore. Wait, were they perched? Orroosting?
“Captain Vorik of the Wingborn Tribe,” the speaker said. A handsome woman with weathered bronze skin and two gray braids hanging over her shoulders, she stepped in front of the archers, though she also carried a bow. Captain Atilya.
Vorik hadn’t seen her in years, not since she’d departed to form the faction with others, but she’d been an officer in the Sixteen Talons when he’d first been inducted.
