Page 48 of Dragon Strike (Age of Fire 4)

A dragonback moved among the ruins, wing-spurs high and proud. DharSii surmounted a fallen building and rested between two vast chimneys. His snout and neck and shoulder bled, but not profusely, and one sail of wing hung, cut into ugly tatters. He’d taken worse from those terrible contraptions than she had.

He came within a dragon cry.

“Wistala, I remember,” he said.

“DharSii of the Sadda-Vale. How is your aunt and the rest?”

His nostrils pulsed. Perhaps he found the exchange of pleasantries amusing. “The same. As always.” He stalked a few more paces forward.

He’d added another ear-ring, well, not quite a ring, more of a smooth squiggle, of what looked (and smelled!) like the rarest of white gold.

He marked her gaze and lowered his griff enough to hide the decoration. Or was it just decoration? Did it hold some significance to those slaughtering men?

“You’d better move along,” he said. “The battle is lost. The Ghioz have some business in these caves and then they will depart. You could return in a day or two.”

“Behind is my cave. If any of them wish to contest my claim, I look forward to the contest.”

DharSii took a reluctant breath. In a flash he shot forward and fell upon her, not biting but trying to pin her to the mound of rubble half blocking the passage. Or perhaps trying to pull her out.

He was frightfully strong, but she had plenty of grips for limbs and tail, and though her thick body would never be called elegant, anyone who tried to overcome it would admit it was powerful. She rolled him off hard enough to feel the impact through the rock and retreated a little farther behind the mound.

The smell of blood and dragon—male! Male! MALE!—both frightened and excited her.

“Did you think I spoke idly?” she asked.

“Of course not,” he said.

“Perhaps you could convince your host to leave.”

“They’re blighters. Hardly hominids, even. What could you possibly care about them?”

She panted, but even more than the air in her lungs, his hateful tone invigorated her spirit. He was the sort of dragon she could hate as fiercely as admire.

“Even blighters have their charms if you get to know them.”

“I rather doubt that. How did they buy such loyalty? All I’ve seen in these mountains is bits of copper and brass.”

“I’m not loyal to them. I’m loyal to my sense of right and wrong.”

“If there’s a wrong here, it’s that dragons are fighting among themselves in some hominid squabble. You’ve injured my companions, and taken very little harm in return. You could fly out of this cave knowing you’d given better than you received in defense of this rubble.”

“I could say the same to you. You three tried, and lost two dragons. Only a fool would press the contest after that. You could retreat with honor intact.”

“I told the Red Queen I would clear these caves when they met my price,” DharSii said. “Clear them I will.”

“You just said they’re nothing but a rubble. What do you suppose your Red Queen wants with rubble?”

“For all I care she just likes holding parades and parties when they’ve won a victory. You know humans. They like to cheer and celebrate deeds others have done, whether it’s their armies beyond the domes or some slathering hound in a fighting pit right beneath them.”

“Interesting choice of imagery. You’re no better than a trained dog, to my mind.”

“I’ll leave that to opinion. I’m certainly richer, and I have my independence.”

“For now. Until the Red Queen decides she needs to chain you up at her door.”

DharSii snorted. “Let her try. I’m more careful than that, and she needs me and my dragons too much to chance it.”

“Then you may die when she meets an opponent greater than herself.”

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