Page 221 of Dragon Strike (Age of Fire 4)

“Gallant remains to be seen. Fools who can sneak on and off an island with dozens of dragons hunting the hills and shores are fools I would rather have think favorably of me and mine.”

Later, Wistala decided it would have been much more dramatic if they’d arrived in the middle of a battle.

But the war in the pass, which once burned as bright as dragonflame, had sputtered out.

Three dragonelles and ten drakka remained.

The Ironriders had opened a precarious path around the avalanche blocking their pass, a piece of needlework threading through boulders and across ridges like braiding. In good weather with plenty of daylight they could be across it in half a day.

The Firemaids were moving only under cover of weather, watching for Ironriders taking the new path.

What she was, in fact, doing when the riders appeared in the sky to the east was speaking to a Firemaid about having the Firemaids fly off carrying the drakka. She and the four drakka who couldn’t be carried would leave.

The dwarves had finally come out of their holes and were hunting them. The only way they could escape the dwarves was to climb, for the dwarves could not follow without much effort with ropes and anchors.

There seemed no point to staying. The Ironriders could bring only a trickle over the pass, and what little traffic there was traveled back to the steppes. The dragonelles who’d flown over the eastern slopes of the mountains reported that the great camp had vanished, with many trails leading south.

It was time to return to Mossbell and Hypatia.

The dragonelles—and a few dragons—of the Isle of Ice arrived, not in such a way that would make a fine song, or an exciting story, but only to offer the news that a few dragons, men, and dragon-riders were scouring the northern thanedoms, chasing down the Ironriders still on the west side of the mountains.

Her brother was not among them. They said he’d flown south with his mate and a strange assortment of elves, men, and dwarves.

Back at Mossbell, the dragons ate their fill of smoked horseflesh. The Ironriders had lost or wounded many mounts as they first advanced, then retreated, across the northern thanedoms.>“Yes, we may last long on this cold, foggy island. But eventually we’ll be a crowded, sick isle full of thin-scaled dragons eating seal-blubber and fish.”

“Difficulties that can be overcome. Why could we not fashion tools and mine as the dwarves do? Are our limbs weaker, our brains smaller?”

“Our bodies are bigger. We would have to engineer tunnels tall and wide.”

“If we fight for one set of humans, we’ll just make enemies of the other set.”

“Better than both allying against us.”

“You’re too clever,” he said.

“You’re too cautious. Even a few dragons may make a difference. You told me an old friend was in trouble. Can we not help him?”

“A few dragons wouldn’t help him. I’ve seen the fliers who hunt him. They’re a match for a dragon.”

“All the more reason to fight now. Will not these fliers be just as much a match for us tomorrow?

“I think,” Natasatch said, “this has gone beyond reason. You’re worried that your brother may be on to something. Is it his success that troubles you?”

AuRon felt his firebladder pulse. He’d never felt like biting his mate in his whole life until now. The impulse shamed him. “Whatever he has planned, it’s not for our benefit, or that of dragons. There is no interest but his own in these doings.”

They watched the dragonelles stomp and roar as they talked to the courier.

The young dragonelle took off. Three others joined her, one of the isle’s altered males.

“Coming, AuRon?” Ouistrela called. “We’re off to inaugurate this ‘age of fire.’ A new age of dragons! Battle screams and horseflesh as far as the eye can see!”

“Will you go?” Natasatch said.

“I haven’t decided.”

“Every moment could be important.”

“If you don’t go, I will.”

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