Rain spattered Rysha’s spectacles and pounded her back as she flew north along the coast on Shulina Arya’s back. When she’d imagined riding into battle with the dragon, she hadn’t envisioned rain. But she couldn’t complain when Trip and fifteen Wolf Squadron pilots flew behind them, their cockpits just as open to the elements.

This is marvelous! Shulina Arya announced into her mind. Finally, we get to fly into another battle together. Against six foes this time, not just one puny half-defeated dragon. Can you not wait?

Shulina Arya twirled in the air, and Rysha clutched at her smooth scales for purchase, even though she knew the dragon’s magic would keep her from falling off. Her stomach gurgled, a queasy feeling emanating from it as the ocean’s choppy waves appeared above her head, then under her feet, then over her head again.

Do you not mind the rain? Rysha asked while she groped for a polite way to ask the dragon not to twirl so enthusiastically.

I prefer warm rain, but it does not interfere with my flying. I see with my mind, not my eyes, so visibility is not a problem.

Visibility wasn’t Rysha’s problem. Well, technically it was, but not in the same sense as the dragon meant. She fumbled in her pocket for her handkerchief, which was as wet as the rest of the clothing, so she could wipe her spectacles.

You do not enjoy being wet? Shulina Arya asked, sounding surprised.

Not in my clothing. Fearing the dragon might make her uniform disappear, Rysha hastily added, And not from the rain. A warm bath is pleasant.

Ah, like flying into a temperate ocean. Yes, most appealing.

I was thinking of a tub full of bubbles.

I will use my magic to shelter you from the rain while we fly. Once we engage in battle, I may be too distracted to focus on small comforts.

Rysha was about to say that Shulina Arya didn’t need to waste the energy doing that, but a wave of warmth coursed through her body, and her clothing instantly dried. Even the water droplets spattered on her lenses disappeared. She almost melted all over the dragon in gratitude.

What’s going on over there? Trip spoke into her mind.

His flier had outdistanced the others and flew between Shulina Arya and Bhrava Saruth. A faint red glow came from his cockpit—Azarwrath? Maybe the soulblade was also eager to enter into battle.

Rysha couldn’t tell if the man in Trip’s back seat was as eager. Colonel Grady, armed with one of the chapaharii swords, a rifle, a truncheon, and two pistols, sat behind him. Rysha had seen the officer in the hangar and thought he looked like a walking armory, but Major Kaika and Colonel Therrik, the two other elite troops soldiers along on the mission, were similarly armed. Knowing Kaika, she had a bag full of explosives with her too. Rysha was surprised Grady—and his chapaharii blade—was flying with Trip instead of with a pilot that didn’t have dragon blood.

We’re discussing warmth, she replied.

Ah. I was checking on you, felt your discomfort, and was pondering what I could do about it. But then you abruptly seemed extremely comfortable.

Rysha smiled, delighted that he was keeping an eye on her and wanted her to be comfortable. Flying dragon-back is a luxury experience, Trip.

I’ll stick to my flier.

Are you sure? Nobody is riding Bhrava Saruth. Perhaps if you brought him an offering, he’d allow you aboard.

My understanding is that Sardelle rides him into battle if anyone does. She is his high priestess, after all.

I’m glad Shulina Arya doesn’t seem to believe humans should worship her.

Just feed her tarts?

That seems an equitable tradeoff for the assistance she’s offering.

I won’t disagree. You can’t hear our chatter over the communication crystals, right?

No.

We’re over here strategizing. Now I wish I’d thought to dig one out of an unused flier for you. Or maybe I could figure out how to make extras myself.

Is there something you wish Shulina Arya and me to do? Rysha realized he wasn’t in command and that the question should be for General Zirkander. Though Trip was out in front, as if he led the squadron. Maybe he had been put in command.

No, Trip said dryly. I’ve been sent ahead to take the brunt of the first wave of the attacks.

Oh, you’re cannon fodder.

Since I have Azarwrath to help shield the flier, it makes sense. And with Colonel Grady behind me with one of the chapaharii blades, that should be further protection. Assuming he doesn’t brain me. He seems affable in general, but I’ve caught him fondling his hilt and glowering at me a couple of times.

You know the command words on the original blades if he—or it—gets uppity.

True. As to what you should do, I just asked the general. He asked if your dragon would accept commands from him or do what she wants.

Uh. Rysha remembered the shape-shifted Shulina Arya sailing around the castle corridors on that crate scooter, completely ignoring the guards’ orders for her to stop.

A sensation of amusement came from Trip. Got it. I’ll let him know.

The city is almost in sight, Shulina Arya announced, flapping her wings harder. We shall lead the way into battle. With our combined powers, we’re much deadlier than Bhrava Saruth.

Rysha rested her hand on Dorfindral’s hilt, but didn’t point out that her power was borrowed.

The sword thrummed at her touch, as if to let her know that it was also eager to go into battle. Interestingly, the chapaharii blade had stopped sending such intense urges through her to attack whenever Shulina Arya showed up. It was as if the sword understood that this dragon was their ally. Rysha wished she could get the blade to accept that about Trip.

I assume from watching you pull into the lead that you’re definitely not amenable to following orders, Trip observed.

I am, but you’re right about Shulina Arya. She seems to have her own ideas about how this battle should go.

I’ll tell the general that you’ll work independently. Our plan is to lure the dragons away from the city so we can fight them over the ocean, where we won’t likely hurt people or do damage to buildings or ships in the harbor. Right now, three of the six are holed up in Lord-governor Arrowwood’s headquarters. The other three are at the outskirts of the city, standing guard, it looks like. A gold and two silvers. Those would be good ones for you, Shulina Arya, and Bhrava Saruth to go after. Hells, what now?

Trip? Rysha saw him craning his neck in his flier, looking toward the dark clouds over the sea. Lightning flashed out there, but she couldn’t make out anything in the water or the sky.

I sense another dragon out there. I’m not sure if he’s an ally to these six or not, but he’s a big powerful gold.

We’ll keep an eye on him—and these three—while your team goes in to get the others.

Good. Be careful.

Rysha could make out the spires and towers of the city ahead. Even though Portsnell’s population was smaller than the capital’s, it still housed more than fifty thousand people. Fifty thousand people who were in danger of having their city razed.

A gold dragon perched atop a lighthouse on the rocky shore south of the city sprang into the air. It flapped its wings and flew toward them. Rysha’s stomach clenched with nerves, but she gritted her teeth and drew Dorfindral.

* * *

Trip attempted to wall off his mind as he piloted Colonel Grady and the other fliers toward Portsnell. His brain crawled with the discomfort of having so many dragons in close proximity to each other.

The gold and one of the two silvers had left the city and were flying toward the formation now as lightning flashed over the ocean. Trip sensed the second silver lingering near the harbor. The two other silvers and the female bronze were still in the government headquarters building. Their auras were diminished, and Trip suspected they were shape-shifted. So they would be less likely to be noticed? Or so they could fit into the building?

Trip had never seen dragons hide inside a building to avoid a battle. What did they think was in there that would be of value to them? Not livestock, surely.

“I want half the squadron to help our ally dragons with these three dragons outside,” Zirkander said. “If Bhrava Saruth or Shulina Arya can knock down their barriers, you’ll be able to hit them with your bullets. I’m concerned about the dragons in the headquarters, so every pilot with a sword wielder, head over there to check on them. They could have hostages. Even though the gold is with the ones outside, it’s possible these dragons are diversions.”

“Awfully large and shiny diversions, sir,” Captain Duck drawled.

Since Trip was still leading, he took the initiative and dipped toward the shoreline and the city first. He had never been to Portsnell, but his senses told him where that government building was.

The gold and one silver dragon continued to fly high, toward Bhrava Saruth and Shulina Arya. The second silver remained in the harbor, lurking.

Though Trip worried about being separated from Rysha, he had to trust that she had the tools—and dragon—she needed to take care of herself.

As he flew along the harbor, Trip glimpsed the silver there on a cannery rooftop. It looked balefully at him but did not move from its perch. He didn’t know why it wasn’t leaping into the air to join the battle, but the fewer enemies for his allies, the better. So long as it wasn’t harassing the locals.

A few fishing boats and sailing ships were tied up at the docks around the dragon, but not nearly as many as Trip would have expected given the stormy weather. Maybe crews of other boats had seen the dragons coming and had sailed out toward other ports, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed.

A large crabbing boat floating in the harbor was the only vessel with people out on deck. They carried rifles and clubs, as if they meant to fight off any dragons that came for their ship. Trip lifted a hand toward them, admiring their spirit, even if it would do little good.

“My sword wants me to attack that silver dragon,” Colonel Grady called over Trip’s shoulder.

“Does it still want you to attack me, sir?”

“Yes, but I sense that the full-blooded dragon is more of a draw.”

Trip was glad to hear that. “Don’t worry about passing the silver. Three full-blooded dragons are waiting for us in that building. They’re just less noticeable to the sword because they’re shape-shifted into humans right now.”

“Three dragons are better to battle than one.”

“You elite troops officers have interesting notions, sir.”

“We’re a special bunch.”

Trip passed the harbor and spotted the flat roof of the two-story government headquarters. The three dragons were still inside. He felt a twinge of disappointment, realizing he would have to land his flier and go in after them. An air battle would have been much more enjoyable.

“The enemy dragons have engaged our dragons,” Zirkander stated.

Trip fought the urge to twist in his seat and look back into the rainy afternoon sky. His battle waited for him below.

Now that he was closer, he realized that only one of the dragons was in human form. The other two had turned into… bears? Trip sensed actual humans in the building, too, all down in the basement. Being held there as hostages? As Zirkander had guessed? If so, to what end? This behavior was not typical for dragons.

Trip veered for the rooftop, deciding to land there instead of in the yard below, though he doubted it would matter. It wasn’t as if they could take the dragons by surprise.

“We sure going in is the best idea?” someone asked.

“No,” Zirkander said, “but we can’t blow bullets through the windows of one of our own buildings. If you can force them to come out, we’ll happily shoot at them from the air.”

“Are the pilots going in, too, sir?” someone else asked—Trip recognized Captain Pimples’ voice. “Or just the sword-slinging combat studs? My flier’s machine guns got all the good ammo. My pistol doesn’t have any dragon-slaying bullets.”

“Don’t worry, Pimples,” Zirkander said. “Nobody’s making you lead the charge.”

“That’s our job,” someone else growled, his voice not coming through as clearly since he was in a back seat.

Trip was fairly certain it was Therrik. After their brief meeting in the solarium, Trip wasn’t that eager to go into battle with him, but he didn’t think he would get a choice. Pimples might be permitted to stay outside in his flier, but as a sorcerer and soulblade-wielder, Trip would be expected to help infiltrate the dragon-filled building.

“Major Kaika wishes me to inform you all,” Captain Duck drawled, as Trip’s wheels touched down on the rooftop, “that she is indeed a sword-slinging combat expert but that she is not a stud. And I bet Angulus is right happy about that. Ow.”

Trip snorted. He didn’t have to see Kaika smack Duck on the back of the head to know she had.

Colonel Grady unbuckled his harness and jumped onto the rooftop as soon as Trip powered down the thrusters. Captain Ahn, who’d been flying Therrik, and Duck, who had Kaika, also landed on the rooftop.

“You want any more of us with you, Trip?” Zirkander asked.

“No, sir.” While Trip wouldn’t have minded as much help as he could get entering a building with three dragons waiting inside—three dragons up to something shifty—he agreed that the other pilots would be like Pimples, armed with modest personal weapons and not trained to fight dragons from anywhere but their cockpits. “But maybe there should be another pilot down here to keep an eye on the fliers while we go in.”

“Will do. Sending Leftie down.”

“What’re you asking him for, Zirkander?” Therrik growled, leaning over Ahn’s shoulder to speak into the crystal.

She narrowed her eyes at his hulking form, but as a captain, she couldn’t object to a colonel looming over her.

“I’m the ranking officer on this incursion team,” Therrik added.

“Lucky for the incursion team, and that’s General Zirkander.” Judging by Zirkander’s tone, he’d corrected Therrik on the title numerous times over the years. “A rank you’ll possibly be given one day if you become more personable and easy to work with.”

“You were only given that rank because the king likes the way you twirl around dragons in the sky.”

“We’ve had this discussion before. I twirl around the dragons and shoot them. Trip, I know you can speak telepathically with all of us, but take one of the communication crystals with you and keep in touch that way.”

“Zirkander,” Therrik growled. Intending to object that Trip was getting special orders again?

Trip silently obeyed the order, twisting the crystal to extract it from the dashboard.

“You’re the commander, Therrik,” Zirkander said, “but Trip is the dragon expert. Pay attention to him, so I don’t have to tell Lilah a dragon ate you.”

Trip expected another surly objection from Therrik and was careful to jump down several paces away from his flier. Duck and Kaika were already on the rooftop. But Therrik only grimaced and said, “I’m not getting eaten.”

“I should hope not,” Kaika said, her sword already drawn and ready. “You’ve got to be tougher and stringier than year-old dried meat left to harden in the sun.”

Therrik hopped down to the rooftop and glared at her, but then his focus shifted to Trip. He drew his chapaharii blade, the original one, Kasandral. It flared a sickly green, and Trip grimaced, realizing he was going on a strike team with three people with swords that wanted to kill him. That might have been somewhat acceptable if Rysha had been one of those people, but she was two miles away, already engaged in her own battle.

Trip gazed toward the southern end of the city where the dragons fought over the breaking waves. He couldn’t see Rysha, but he could sense her, sense the dragons twisting and writhing in the sky, clawing at each other and throwing power and fire. Shulina Arya was battling the gold while Bhrava Saruth stalked the silver. She tried to come in and turn, giving Rysha opportunities to strike with her chapaharii blade.

“You ready, Dragon Boy?” Therrik pointed his sword at Trip, and it flared a more intense green. He frowned at it, muttered something under his breath—the control words?—and jerked it toward a door. The only door on the rooftop. It led into a stairwell offering access down into the building. “That our best option?”

Telryn, Azarwrath said. Do not allow this man to speak to you in an insulting manner.

He’s my superior officer. That means he can insult me whenever he wants. “They’ll know we’re coming, sir,” Trip said aloud. “May as well be direct.”

This is not how mages were treated in the Cofah army in my time. No matter what their rank, they were respected by mundane officers. Only a mage more powerful than you and higher ranking than you would have the right to treat you poorly, but quality officers did not lower themselves by doing so.

I’ll be sure to mention that at the next meeting with the king that I’m invited to.

Do so. It’s clear this man has no idea that you could fry the hair off his balls or stop his heart with your mind if you wished.

I’m not sure which of those notions is more horrifying.

“I’d rather have a plan about how we’re not going to be direct,” Therrik said. “Can’t you wriggle your fingers and make it so they don’t see us?”

“Not with dragons. I can make it so the humans inside don’t see us, if you think that would help.”

“You’re not going to be as mouthy as Zirkander, are you?” Therrik squinted at him. “You remind me of him.”

“I… don’t think so.” Normally, Trip would be delighted to be compared to the general, but it clearly wasn’t a compliment coming from Therrik.

“I suggest we go, sir.” Captain Ahn wore a Mark 500 sniper rifle on a strap—the weapon was almost as tall as she was—and cradled it in her arms. “Time may be of the essence.”

“It always is,” Duck said.

“I’ll lead,” Therrik said. “Ahn, you and your rifle take up the rear. Keep your buddy back there with you and out of trouble. Seven gods, pilot, is that little pellet gun all you brought?”

“It’s a standard issue AB-7, sir,” Duck said.

“Dragons aren’t standard issue. Ahn, keep him alive and watch our backs. Grady, Kaika, you come in the middle. Watch my ass.”

“We have Lilah’s permission to do that, sir?” Kaika asked.

Therrik growled.

“Just checking,” Kaika said.

“Was that a yes or a no?” Grady whispered to her. Trip assumed Therrik had more years in rank than he did, since Grady hadn’t objected to Therrik being in charge.

“I believe what he said was that his wife requests we not let a dragon sink fangs into his ass,” Kaika said.

“That much in one growl? Impressive.”

“Dragon Boy, you’re with me.” Therrik looked at Trip, jerked his head toward the door, and started walking. “Let me know when we’re getting close to one.” His hand flexed on Kasandral’s hilt.

Telryn, Azarwrath said, if you do not correct him, I will.

You can’t do anything to him as long as he’s carrying one of those swords.

We shall see about that. If nothing else, I can flash nightmarish images into his mind.

I doubt anything gives that man nightmares. Trip followed Therrik.

Apparently not quickly enough. Therrik gripped the latch on the door, saw that Trip hadn’t caught up yet, and said, “What’s the hold up?”

“My sword would prefer it if you call me by rank or name, sir. Not Dragon Boy.”

“Yeah? Your sword can talk to my sword.” Therrik held Kasandral aloft and looked down at Azarwrath’s scabbard.

To that ignorant heap of ore? Please.

“Are you really married, sir?” Trip didn’t bother to hide the puzzlement in his tone.

“He is,” Kaika said, stopping behind them. “To General Zirkander’s cousin. I understand family gatherings are full of warmth, cheer, and booze.”

“A lot of booze,” Therrik said.

The door was locked. Before Trip could use his power to thwart the mechanism, Therrik heaved and ripped the door open, metal squealing.

“Subtle, sir,” Kaika said.

Therrik must have had enough banter. He strode into a dim hallway, the pale glow of his sword washing the beige walls and wood office doors.

The chapaharii blades were all glowing strongly. They would lead their wielders to the dragons without Trip’s help, but he would do his best to advise.

“All three of them have moved down to the basement floor, near… I read about thirty people down there with them.”

“Hostages?” Therrik asked, turning down the first stairwell they reached.

Trip paused, and Kaika and Grady almost bumped into him.

“I’m not sure,” Trip said. “Maybe just prisoners that are being guarded because…” He didn’t know.

As he followed Therrik down the stairs, he reached out with his mind, not trying to sense the dragons this time, but trying to connect to the humans. It was hard to single them out for contact with the dragons so close. Even though their auras weren’t as pronounced as when they were in their normal forms, they radiated power that drowned out the essences of the mundane creatures—and people—around them.

Hello? Trip asked, trying someone in the center of the group. They were all in one basement room lined with shelves and filing cabinets.

The person he sought to contact, a man, mentally recoiled and did not answer. He clawed at the air in front of him as if he could drive Trip’s presence away.

Doubting he had time to convince him that he was a friend, Trip shifted to one of the other people in the room, an older woman with a hint of dragon blood. Maybe she would more easily accept telepathic contact.

Hello, I’m Captain Trip with Wolf Squadron, he said, figuring he should make it clear he wasn’t a dragon.

The recipient paused, and Trip sensed alarm and wariness.

Are the dragons holding you hostage? We’re trying to reach you.

Yes. I am Lady Skymoor, the governor’s wife. My husband and many prominent citizens are here too. And an odd number of bakers. They want to trade us for the region. They—

Do you think we cannot intercept your communication? a voice boomed into Trip’s head. That we do not know a puny little mage is accompanying those sneaking into our new lair? You cannot harm us. You must come and take our demands to your king. Send forth your greatest leader.

“Dragon Boy.” Therrik snapped his fingers in front of Trip’s face. “I said which way.”

“I do think you should find a more flattering name for him, Therrik,” Colonel Grady said, gripping Trip’s shoulder from behind. “Even though my sword here believes I should skewer him.”

“He hasn’t done anything yet to prove he deserves flattery. Falling off a pot and running into me doesn’t count.”

“At the least, choose something that’s more easily rhymed than boy. I’m scribbling down notes, should I need to immortalize our mission today in a ballad. There are options—soy, bok choy, corduroy—but man would make everything much simpler.

Therrik growled at him. “You’re even less deserving of flattery, so far, Grady.”

“That’s hardly fair. We haven’t yet done anything.”

“A dragon is speaking to me,” Trip said. “They know exactly where we are and want us to send our greatest leader forward to negotiate. They’re prepared to free the hostages if we give them this region.”

“Region?”

“The city isn’t enough?” Grady asked. “The greed of dragons knows no bounds.”

Tell your leader to tell your king. We have decided that our earlier demands were too modest. If we do not have a treaty granting this region to our band of dragons by morning, we shall slay these humans and destroy the city.

If you’re trying to take over the city, why would you destroy it? Trip asked.

Human dwellings mean nothing to us. It is the land and the sea and all the life teeming upon and within it that will be ours. You humans stole the world from us. You owe us this. The voice grew so booming in Trip’s mind that he had to grip the wall for support. Tell your leader.

Trip reached out to General Zirkander, not because the dragon told him so—at least he hoped he wasn’t being so easily influenced—but because Zirkander needed this information.

Sir?

What is it, Captain? Zirkander promptly responded, though Trip sensed him piloting his flier upside down as he arrowed toward a silver dragon, leading the squadron against the creature during a moment when Bhrava Saruth and Shulina Arya weren’t close enough to be in danger of being hit.

I have a message, Trip told him and relayed it.

I see.

Do we keep going? Try to defeat them?

Yes. Angulus isn’t giving up any of the country to blackmailing dragons.

Understood, sir.

Trip had been doing his best to keep his telepathic communication pinpoint so it wouldn’t be easily overheard by the dragons, but there was no way to shield Zirkander’s thoughts, as far as he knew, and a deep growl sounded in his mind, like that of some irritated predator.

At the rear of their group, Captain Ahn abruptly turned, facing backward and pointing her rifle toward the stairs they’d come down.

“I heard something,” she said quietly.

“I don’t sense anyone back there,” Trip said, double-checking as he spoke.

“Something is there. I—”

A faint clatter came from the level above them. Or maybe the roof? Imagining the dragons using their power to annihilate the fliers, Trip hurried to check, already half-constructing a barrier that he could wrap around them. But he detected Leftie sitting in his cockpit with his rifle and his lucky ball, twirling it on its chain as he watched the aerial battle with the dragons and felt disgruntled that he hadn’t been included—the rest of the fliers had gone to join in. He didn’t appear worried by any immediate threat to the rooftop.

Another clatter sounded in their passage, followed by a scraping from the ceiling—or perhaps the floor above—directly overhead.

The shadows stirred in the hallway behind them, and Ahn, already with her rifle butt pressed into the hollow of her shoulder, shifted her aim. But she didn’t fire. As far as Trip could tell, there was nothing to fire at but shadows.

I believe the dragons may be attempting to scare you, Azarwrath said.

“Why would they bother with little tricks?” Therrik asked, and Trip realized the soulblade had spoken to everyone in the group. “Every dragon I’ve met before just tried to kill me.”

“Imagine,” Kaika murmured.

“I don’t know, but the general said to take care of them. They’re down one more level from here.” Trip pointed to a dark stairwell at the end of the hallway. The door leading to it stood open, and a faint moan emanated from it.

An intense feeling of dread came over Trip, along with the urge to flee. He sensed the power behind it, the manipulation, and he also sensed the being, the dragon, responsible for it. A silver in the form of a bear. It had left the room with the prisoners and waited at the bottom of the stairs with one of its allies, a silver also in bear form. Only the bronze remained back with the humans, but Trip didn’t see another way down into the basement.

“Shit.” Duck whirled and stepped toward the exit.

Kaika caught his arm. “Stay where you are.”

“But death is coming for us.” Duck’s eyes were wide with terror.

Captain Ahn’s face had grown pale, and her gaze darted to either end of the hallway, but she didn’t look like she meant to bolt.

“Actually, it’s a bear.” Trip noted the chapaharii wielders were less affected than the pilots, but they also appeared to have felt the gust of fear. “Two of them.”

“Kaika, Grady, get my back.” Therrik strode for the stairs with Kasandral held aloft.

The other two sword wielders pushed past Trip, leaving him with Duck and Ahn, neither of whom looked to be in a hurry to go down those stairs. Though he didn’t know if it would work, Trip tried to bolster them with courage and to extend his mental defenses around them—hadn’t one of the soulblades once said he could learn to do that?—so they wouldn’t be affected by the intangible waves of fear rolling up the stairs.

He also formed a barrier around them because he sensed the dragons would attack soon. The message had been delivered. They would want to get rid of the threat in the headquarters building. He only wished he could protect the sword wielders with his power, too, that the magic-hating blades would allow it.

As Therrik stepped over to the landing at the top, a snarl floated up the stairwell. Then the floor quaked, stone cracked, and metal squealed. Mortar crumbled, and tiles snapped.

Azarwrath reacted before Trip, and he suddenly found himself floating in the air, hovering inches above the floor. A floor that fell away underneath him as snaps and groans erupted all around them. Stone and wood rained down from above, pelting his barrier. He fed power into it, strengthening it as he looked back, fearing Ahn and Duck would have fallen.

But they also floated, looking angry and alarmed now rather than simply afraid.

A shout of pain came from the stairwell. Trip turned back as the entrance to it collapsed, and rubble fell from above, burying the three elite troops—and the chapaharii blades.