Rysha sat astride Shulina Arya’s back, her sword resting on her thighs as the team flew closer to the smoking airship. After the first battle, she felt confident they could handle another dragon, but seeing the armored pirate ship harrying the ponderous Iskandian air freighter made her uneasy. Dozens of cannons and shell guns lined the pirate ship’s deck, and Rysha could make out dozens and dozens of men with rifles, most of them near the railing and firing across the gap.

The Iskandian ship, its balloon torn and losing gas, wasn’t putting up much of a fight, not anymore. Fires burned in numerous spots on the deck, and several ragged holes gaped on both sides of the hull. If the vessel was forced to land in the water, it wouldn’t float, not for long. Even if Rysha and the others managed to drive away the dragon and the pirates, could Trip fix a mess like that to save the ship?

She glanced over her shoulder. Shulina Arya had outpaced the fliers, but Rysha could still see his flier—and the bronze dragon soaring beside it. She knew Trip had talked to that bronze back on the Pirate Isles and could understand why he’d wanted to spare his life, but she didn’t trust Telmandaroo. She suspected he would say anything to save his life and would betray a new ally as quickly as befriend him.

The gold dragon has seen us, Bhrava Saruth announced. And he called me a delusional and overstuffed gold turkey. I do not like him.

“There are a lot of injured and hurting people in that airship,” Trip said. “Our airship.”

“Let’s have our dragons focus on the gold dragon,” Colonel Grady called from the back seat. “Ahn and Trip will take down the pirate vessel. We’ll have to wait until after we’ve dealt with the threats to help the crew and see if we can save the ship.”

“Yes, sir,” Ahn and Trip said.

Rysha patted Shulina Arya’s back. “It looks like we’re fighting another dragon.”

This is what I enjoy. To prove that my mother was wrong and that I am not a weakling. I am a strong dragon and am good at protecting those who are not strong.

Rysha smiled. She hadn’t heard Shulina Arya explain why she liked helping humans before but could see why the dragon would feel prickly toward those who used their power to pick on the weak.

Shulina Arya headed straight toward the male gold—he was busy bathing the Iskandian airship’s envelope in flames and did not look at the newcomers. That was surprising. Did he not yet know that his mate had been grievously injured? He had to.

I can sense a few of his thoughts, Trip spoke into her mind. He’s distracted. He knows his mate was injured, but he’s focused on something else. He wants what’s inside the Iskandian airship.

Which is what?

I’m not sure. Food, I think. Pods? Beans? And some long sticks.

Sticks?

Canes? Maybe it’s lemongrass.

Rysha snorted. Catnip to dragons, I’m sure.

Shulina Arya arrowed toward the male dragon and was almost close enough to breathe fire when he lifted his head and glared at them with icy green eyes. They weren’t a deep emerald like Trip’s but a chartreuse, more akin to the light flaring from Dorfindral’s blade.

The male roared, and fire roiled from the depths of his pink throat. It shot a hundred yards, directly at Shulina Arya.

She didn’t flinch. She erected a barrier and flew straight into the flames.

Be ready, Storyteller! You can drive your sword down his gullet.

I’m ready.

Rifles fired from below, startling Rysha. They were close to the airship battle now, and she’d almost forgotten about the pirates. Some continued firing across to the Iskandian freighter, but more men pointed their rifles upward, shooting at Rysha and Shulina Arya.

The bullets bounced off Shulina Arya’s invisible shield, again manifested in a way that it protected Rysha even though she wielded Dorfindral. She gripped the hilt, smiling as they closed on the male gold, starting to feel that no single foe could stand against them.

Shulina Arya attempted to fly her close enough to strike, but the male must have sensed the chapaharii sword. He twisted in the air, flapping quickly away and lashing at them with his tail. Shulina Arya snapped her jaws to the side, catching the very tip of that tail and clamping down.

Rysha crouched, ready to join in the skirmish as soon as she was close enough. The male hurled a mental attack at them. Even protected by Dorfindral, Rysha winced, feeling something that felt like a hurricane gale knocking around inside her skull.

Shulina Arya cried out, letting go of the tail and shaking her head. She stopped flapping her wings, and they dropped. Rysha’s heart sprang into her throat, and she dropped to her belly, afraid of falling off.

Shulina Arya recovered just short of landing on the Iskandian airship’s smoldering envelope.

Machine guns fired behind them, Ahn and Trip taking a run at the pirate airship. Most of the crew ran for cover and to return fire as the fliers passed, but Rysha spotted a woman in black glaring in her direction. Next to her, a man in a pointed blue hat raised a bow.

Rysha almost laughed. What was a bow when everyone around that man was firing shell guns and rifles? Then she remembered that she was using a sword.

Bhrava Saruth flapped past after the fliers, breathing flames at the pirate ship and lighting its envelope on fire.

Brace yourself, Storyteller. Shulina Arya flapped her wings to take them back toward the battle, but there was a wobble to her flight that hadn’t been there before. The male is very powerful with mental attacks. I was not completely ready for that. Here he comes, aiming for us again.

Rysha crouched again, hoping to get a chance to injure the gold so he would be less of a problem. But she kept an eye on that archer, suspecting he was more than he appeared. The man no longer faced her and Shulina Arya. Instead, he focused on one of the fliers. Trip’s.

Trip flew his craft straight into the airship, between the deck and the envelope, its wings tipping left and right to avoid supports and cables. He fired all the while, driving the crew to dive for cover or run below decks.

The woman in black didn’t flee. She lifted a hand toward him as the archer at her side fired.

Rysha was too far away to see if there was anything special about the bow, but she blurted a, “Look out, Trip!” just in case.

He tilted his wings so the arrow clunked into the underside of his flier instead of hitting him, but he let out a startled oath. Red lightning shot from his cockpit, from Azarwrath. It streaked toward the woman and the archer, but did not strike either. Trip yelled in surprise and pain as if something had struck him.

“Sorceress,” Captain Ahn announced with surprising calm.

“Drop me off,” Grady ordered.

Now, Storyteller, Shulina Arya ordered, and Rysha wrenched her attention from the other battle as the dragon took her straight into another gout of fire.

Rysha couldn’t see anything but yellow and orange flames writhing around her, the heat palpable against her skin, even with her sword’s magical protection.

“Ready,” she said, raising Dorfindral.

They had to be closing on the male’s head. Shulina Arya banked hard, and a pale green eye came into view, far too close for comfort. But close enough to strike?

Rysha lashed out and felt the popping of a magical barrier, but she couldn’t quite reach that eye. Then the dragon’s neck whipped toward her, and its maw opened wide, flames licking past its spear-like fangs.

Rysha almost shrieked in terror as those fangs lunged at her, and she realized she was the dragon’s target. But she clamped her mouth shut, gritted her teeth, and jumped up as the jaws snapped at her. She drove her sword upward, the blade glancing off a front fang and sinking into the top of the dragon’s mouth.

The gold jerked his head back, yanking the sword from her grip but not before pulling her from Shulina Arya’s back.

This time, Rysha couldn’t tamp down her alarmed cry. She tumbled through the sky as the male dragon shrieked, the noise battering her brain as well as her ears. Pain pulsed through her as she fell, but she twisted, trying to making sure her feet would hit the water first, though she feared she was so high that it wouldn’t matter. The landing could break every bone in her body—or kill her.

She hit something far sooner than expected. The envelope of the Iskandian airship. It gave a little, and she bounced off. She glimpsed a fiery inferno on the deck of the pirate airship as she flew upward and then started dropping again, this time to the side of the freighter. She spotted the ocean, hundreds of feet below, as she picked up speed, plummeting like a boulder.

Then some invisible power grasped her, slowing her descent. She stopped altogether, hovering and looking up at the bottoms of the two airships. They were both smoking now, dark gray clouds hazing the air all around the battle.

Something huge fell past Rysha, startling her. A gold dragon. For a sickening second, she thought it was Shulina Arya. But it was the male, falling limply toward the ocean below.

I have you, Storyteller, Shulina Arya announced, flying into view, but I was not able to extract your magic-hating sword, I regret.

Extract? Rysha stared down as the male hit the water with enough force that he instantly plunged below the surface. She groaned as she realized Dorfindral must still be thrust into the roof of his mouth.

We will get it back. Shulina Arya sailed under Rysha, and they were reunited, dragon and rider.

Rysha was glad, but she also grimaced, realizing she had nothing to contribute to the battle until they could retrieve the chapaharii blade. She tried not to think about what would happen if the ocean was far, far deeper here than the Lagresh harbor had been.

* * *

Your officer has engaged the sorceress, Azarwrath said.

Good.

Trip was glad he didn’t have to speak out loud, since he was panting with pain. He’d been shot in the arm, and agony blazed from the wound. He made himself continue to manipulate the flight stick, taking them back around so he could help Grady.

The colonel was down on the pirate ship’s deck, battling a sorceress and someone with a chapaharii bow, neither of which Trip had sensed. The aura of the gold dragon glowing so brightly dulled everything nearby. Besides, he admitted with chagrin, he hadn’t expected mages and chapaharii weapons out in the middle of the ocean with pirates, so he hadn’t thought to look for more than the dragon.

Nor did I, Azarwrath confessed. Get us closer. I can finish off the sorceress. She is running from your colonel while the pirates get in the way—they are protecting her.

Trip accelerated into a dive, the smoky deck of the enemy airship coming into view again. He saw Grady, whirling and slashing, deflecting bullets fired at him and cutting down pirates. He was a deadly force, but Azarwrath was right. The sorceress had run behind a lifeboat mounted near the railing.

Can we destroy this foul vessel? Bhrava Saruth asked, flying past on the opposite side of the airship and peering at the deck. I can burn more than its little balloon.

Not yet, Trip told him. We have a man aboard it.

Trip focused on the sorceress as she used her power to bring down a support beam that was over Grady’s head. Trip shifted his attention to hurl it out of the way, though Grady must have heard it snap, because he sprang to the side before it would have struck. He glanced in Trip’s direction and lifted a hand.

The sorceress also glanced in Trip’s direction as he flew closer, her expression far less friendly.

Azarwrath sent lightning streaking toward her. Trip sensed her putting all her energy into her defenses. He squinted at her and imagined those defenses being ripped away. They fell instantly, and the lightning slammed into her, wrapping all around her and charring her flesh. She screamed and tumbled away from the lifeboat, slamming into the railing. Azarwrath hurled a blast of wind. The railing broke, and she fell over the side.

Trip winced, always more disturbed by killing human beings than dragons. He reminded himself that these people had been attacking an Iskandian freighter.

His flier’s momentum had carried him past the pirate vessel, and he banked to come back in again. The crew ought to be ready to give up with their sorceress dead, but the man with the chapaharii bow might still be firing arrows. Earlier, one of those arrows had popped Trip’s barrier right before a barrage of rifle fire came at him. He’d weaved and tilted his wings crazily, but the confines of the ship had limited his maneuverability, and that first bullet had taken him by surprise.

“The Iskandian airship is falling faster,” Ahn said. “A lot faster.”

Trip shifted his focus to it, hoping he had the power to levitate it or at least slow its fall enough that it wouldn’t be destroyed when it landed in the water. Unfortunately, he had never attempted to affect something so large.

He’d barely started trying when he sensed someone else using power on it. The airship halted a few dozen yards above the ocean, its crew members on their knees, bracing for impact. They lifted their heads in surprise.

Ah, finally I have done some good, Bhrava Saruth announced. Shulina Arya was hogging the battle with the male.

It’s not my fault you were so slow to attack, Shulina Arya said.

I could have attacked with great speed, but I did not wish my assaults to strike you as well as the male. You were so close to him that you could have licked his tail.

I bit his tail.

Trip looked around for Shulina Arya, wanting to see Rysha, to make sure she had come through unscathed. That archer had added an unexpected element.

She is fine, Azarwrath said. Only you were shot.

That’s good then.

It would have been better if you hadn’t been shot. Telryn, I know you are accustomed to shooting things with this flying contraption, but as a sorcerer, there is no need to get so close.

I’ll keep that in mind.

Trip spotted the bronze dragon in the distance. Telmandaroo had stayed out of the way, never engaging. That was fine. Trip was happy he hadn’t worked with the pirates against his team.

But where was Shulina Arya?

Look down, Azarwrath advised.

A dead gold dragon floated on the waves not far from where the Iskandian airship hovered. Shulina Arya was flying in circles around it.

“What’s going on down there?” Trip asked curiously.

Rysha sighed, the noise just audible over her communication crystal. “I’m retrieving my sword.”

“You threw it again?” Trip imagined them having to dive thousands of feet into the ocean to get it off the bottom. “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that with a sword.”

“I didn’t throw it. It got stuck.”

Rysha slithered off Shulina Arya’s back, surprising Trip. She landed in the water next to the dead dragon and swam toward his head.

“I’m landing on the pirate ship for long enough to pick up Colonel Grady,” Ahn said. “He has singlehandedly cut down most of the crew.”

“I’m sure your bullets took down plenty of them,” Trip said—Ahn sounded a little envious.

“A few. The sorceress was protecting them. Was she a powerful one? She seemed strong.”

Once Trip had known she existed and focused on her, it hadn’t been difficult to defeat her. He thought that might sound like bragging, so he only said, “I believe she could have rivaled Sardelle in power, so she was strong for this era, yes.”

“Got it,” Rysha said, then grunted with effort. “Sort of.”

Trip flew down closer in case she needed help. She planted her boots on the dragon’s maw, one on a fang and one on a lip, and pulled backward, both hands on Dorfindral’s hilt. The sword finally slid from the roof of the dragon’s mouth. Rysha looked up at Shulina Arya, and Trip sensed her trying to figure out how to get back on her back.

He tried to lift her before remembering Dorfindral wouldn’t allow it. He was surprised Shulina Arya could affect her as much as she could, since it was magic that kept a rider on a dragon’s back.

Shulina Arya dove down into the water and came up beside Rysha so she could climb back on.

How long do I have to hold this hulking boat here? Bhrava Saruth asked, flying lazy circles around the hovering Iskandian freighter.

“If it’s not seaworthy, it’ll need a ride back to Iskandia,” Ahn said.

You wish me to carry it all the way across the ocean?

Do you feel you won’t be able to nap sufficiently if you have to do that? Shulina Arya asked, flying up from the water with Rysha aboard.

“Can you hold it there for a half hour or so?” Trip piloted his flier toward the airship. “I’ll land on the deck and see if I can put out the fires and help the crew repair it.”

A half hour? Bhrava Saruth sighed dramatically into their minds. Very well.

Bhrava Saruth is a very old dragon, Shulina Arya informed them. It distresses him when he can’t nap on an hourly basis.

I am not old! I am magnificent and in the prime of my life. There is nothing wrong with enjoying a nap while the sun beats upon your scales—your skin—and someone else flies you. Though I do not believe I will sit in the back of one of those flying contraptions again until pillows are installed.

“We’ll be sure to put in a work order for that,” Ahn muttered.

What remained of the Iskandian crew scattered as Trip flew close, glad he had one of the two-seater fliers, since it had thrusters. He activated them and came down on a portion of the deck that appeared less charred than others. Flames still burned in numerous spots, though the crew seemed to have realized the battle was over and that they could come out and attempt to put them out.

People poked their heads out from behind supports and railings. Since Trip wore his Iskandian uniform and was in one of the iconic bronze dragon fliers, he didn’t expect trouble, but he lifted his hand, the one on the uninjured side, and tried to look friendly. That was a challenge with the ache in his shoulder. At the least, he hoped he didn’t appear dragonly or odd.

A ragged cheer went up. That was encouraging.

Ahn’s flier also headed for the deck, Colonel Grady once again in her back seat.

“Can you handle talking to the crew, Captain?” Trip asked. “I’d like to focus on fixing their ship. Perhaps my shoulder, too, if there’s time.”

“What happened to your shoulder?” Ahn asked.

“I got shot.”

“Ah. Yes, stay in your cockpit and do your magic. We’ll have Colonel Grady talk to the civilian captain since he outranks us. And has half a ballad composed.”

“Really, Captain,” came Grady’s voice from the back seat. “I’ve only composed a few lines in my head.”

“You already titled it.”

“Sometimes, titles come before the first words have been written. Captain Trip, I can’t tell you how pleased I am about your nickname.”

“Oh?” Trip wondered if he should feel wary.

“It rhymes with so many things.” Grady sounded truly delighted.

The first words that popped into Trip’s mind were drip, pip, and gyp, which left him less delighted.

How about airship, wing tip, and bullwhip? Azarwrath suggested.

Those sound like they could lead to slightly more promising lyrics, Trip allowed, noting that Azarwrath had come up with words with more syllables. Did that mean he was smarter than Trip, and if so, should he be concerned? Can you heal my wound while I work on the ship?

I shall endeavor to do so, though without Jaxi here to incinerate the bullet, I will be handicapped.

Was that sarcasm?

Of course not. That would be poor sportsmanship. Trip. Fan of the potato chip. Azarwrath grinned into his mind, apparently pleased by this new word game.

Trip closed his eyes and slumped back in the cockpit.