Page 179 of Dragon Strike (Age of Fire 4)

“I’m not eating either of you, as long as you step lively,” AuRon said over his wing.

“Quicker we get there, quicker we’re eaten,” Nok said. “Hope I’m a bird in the next life. I’ll find this gray stinkbomb by the smell and dump on him.”

“I don’t think birds can smell,” AuRon said.

A sii-score of Naf’s men walked ahead of him in a tight bunch, one wearing the bracer under a long piece of waxed canvas meant to keep it out of the rain. Through it, he gave the crystal a view of the backs of the men in front of him and an occasional look at the cliffs the river cut through above.

Another flaming marker arrow sputtered down, hissing as it struck the rushing water. AuRon looked up at the cliff above, a deep notch with trees growing on it cleaving the rock face into a shape like a pig’s hoof.

The man with the bracer wrapped his canvas cover around it and stuffed it back into the bag with the clanking medicine bottles. They hurried along, with AuRon dragging his trail-creating contraption and the mules bellowing in protest. And so they came to a trio of fallen trees, cut from a wooded notch in the cliffside and blocking the path.

AuRon chewed his way out of the harness, half tempted to eat the noisier of the two mules to teach the other a lesson about complaining so much—gripers get eaten first. But he heard hoofbeats echoing down the canyon, and besides, it seemed unfair huntsdragonship to eat someone with whom you’ve bandied words.

As he looked at the barricade, with cloaks and old broken helms decorating the branches like warriors lined up behind the fallen timber, it occurred to him that the mules might be smarter than they let on and had engaged him in conversation with his sensibilities in mind.

No time to lose in filling his belly.

He examined the river. Next to the barricade and downstream the river widened and grew calmer, and probably shallower, judging by the shape of the waves. He couldn’t hide there.

But upstream looked more promising.

AuRon plunged into the stream and waded—or swam, in the deeper pools—upstream to a mass of rocks breaking the river into confused froth. The water would carry away his scent as long as he kept under it. He found a pair of boulders that diverted much of the flow, and, muscles twitching and wishing to be active in the cold flow, he settled down between them, eyes and nostrils above water and a bit of driftwood camouflage stuck in the horns of his crest, awaiting events.

At least the river was a little wider here. If matters went ill he could rise from the water and escape the ensnaring branches in a few flaps.

The vanguard of the Ghioz column appeared, riders moving widely spaced with bows notched.

The men behind the barricade launched arrows at them. They fired madly, trying to send up a volume of arrows rather than well-aimed strikes. The Ghioz scouts turned their horses and rode back.

AuRon watched the main body approach, a black block of archers to the front, tightly packed like some enormous multi-legged insect. Behind them, AuRon counted riders interspersed with dismounted men with swords and axes or hefting javelins.

The dismounted warriors must mean their mounts were somewhere farther back. It should be easy to smell that many horses.

Under swarms of arrows, the Ghioz column approached the barricade. Many heads turned to watch the cliffs nervously, but perhaps the trackers and whoever might be in communication with the Red Queen assured them that the retreating rebels had followed the riverbank in hurried retreat.

Ghioz skirmishers ran forward, javelins and light axes at the ready, giving high war-yips like slim hunting dogs after rabbits. They flung the javelins and buried the axes in trunk or helm, vaulting up to the peak of the short, irregular wall. Others shouldered one of the trunks, opening a gap big enough for a horse. Seeing but a few men falling back before them, they yelled to their fellows, and horsemen came forward to complete the destruction of what they must have thought was a rearguard designed to delay their advance.

As the first rider passed through the gap in the trail-block, Naf acted.

A horn blew and a rain of arrows fell from the cliff. The Ghioz column reacted like a flock of sheep to approaching wolves; they whirled and tightened ranks.

An avalanche of rock and beam fell from the cliff. Some bounced off the cliff to land harmlessly in the river, but enough rolled into the Ghioz, carrying more with it, that the column dissolved into chaos.

Some desperate souls escaped into the river by jumping in and swimming.

Naf’s men descended through the steep notch with the aid of ropes, under the cover of concealed archers. Still more continued to throw stones down on their enemies, leaving bloody men and horses scattered on the riverbank path.

A pair of roc-riders came shrieking down into the river canyon, perhaps seeing battle joined from far away but losing track of the action in their dive. One suddenly folded and fell, dashing its rider to pieces as it bounced off the cliffside, shafts from the cliff-top bowmen projecting from its head and neck like a lopsided mating display.

The remaining rider wheeled, and AuRon’s hearts pounded when he saw the rider guide his mount up the river, flying low and gathering speed for a climb to the cliff-top level.

He’d never make it.

AuRon exploded out of the rushing stream, brought down rider and bird in a crash of avian forehead against dragon chest and sii. Feathers flew, the rider went head over heels into the river, and AuRon and his prey rolled into the flow. He stomped and tore and left the ruin of the bird tainting the white water red.

AuRon turned on the Ghioz, most of whom had their backs to the river, thinking that quarter safe.

Poor conventional-minded fools. But then, they would fight a lord with an old dragon friend.

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