I hope this dragon has good brakes.
That was one of many ridiculous thoughts that popped into Saskia’s head as they plunged down the trunk of the world tree, diving headlong toward the great blue-green expanse of Grongarg.
Ridiculous thoughts for a truly ridiculous world. They were flying a reanimated bone dragon, for dog’s sake! It was like something out of a ten-year-old’s fever dream. For the past few hours, her heart had been hammering so fast, she’d thought it might explode out of her chest. She’d kept bursting into fits of gleeful giggles, much to the bemusement of her fellow dragonauts.
“I have to ask,” said Saskia. “Can this thing breathe fire, too?”
Ruhildi looked at her blankly.
“Because dragon?” said Saskia. “No? Aw. What’s the point of dragons if they can’t breathe fire?”
“In life, this beauty were a storm dracken, not a fire dracken. Methinks you have them confused.”
“Oh, wrong type,” said Saskia. “Makes sense, I suppose. Wait, can it shoot lightning from its eyes, then?”
Ruhildi gave her the look.
“Okay, okay, I’ll shut up now.”
Slowly, they settled into a more gentle descent over Grongarg, and she began to relax. They weren’t going to crash. It had been an adrenaline rush, but it was almost over. She felt her eyes growing heavy. Just a little…
Then she was wide awake again, with a shriek echoing in her ears. The sound hadn’t come from her, she was pretty sure of that. Glancing around the cabin, she quickly found the source of the disturbance: Zarie was almost crawling over Kveld in her haste to get away from…oh.
A row of liquid brown eyes peeked out from an opening in the panel at the front of the cabin, attached to miniature bodies covered from head to toe in fuzzy white fur. Ice crept around the edges of a storage compartment she hadn’t known existed until that moment.
“Calm down, Zarie,” said Saskia. “They’re not going to eat you. They’re just babies. Look!”
A larger head rose up behind the miniature floofballs, and gave a huge yawn, revealing rows of needle-like teeth.
Zarie squeaked.
“Okay, so their mum is with them too,” said Saskia. “Still nothing to be alarmed about.”
Another fuzzy head appeared, and hissed at Zarie, who let out a little whimper.
“And their dad,” said Saskia.
A pair of eyes blinked sleepily from another hidden compartment above Zarie’s head. Saskia kept quiet about that one. Wouldn’t want to give the poor mer a heart attack.
Saskia counted nine of the little stowaways lurking in three different hidden containers around the cabin. Four adults and five babies. How in the nine howls had they managed to stay hidden for all this time without anyone noticing!? What had they been doing in there? Just chilling out? Her minimap hadn’t revealed their presence because it lumped the whole dragon and everyone inside it into one blue dot. She might have to tweak that…
“We could go back,” suggested Ruhildi. “Drop them off on Ciendil.”
“We could…” said Saskia. She really didn’t want to. They were so cute! Just looking at them made her want to melt into goo. Besides, if Ciendil became an airless wasteland, they’d be consigning these creatures to their deaths.
Sensing her reluctance, Ruhildi gave the dwarven equivalent of an eye-roll. “Or we could take them with us.”
“Yeah!” said Saskia. “Let’s do that!”
Zarie gave another whimper.
Saskia held out a hand in front of the baby adorribles, palm upward. Hesitantly, they sniffed her fingers. Then, as one, they dogpiled onto her palm. She carefully ran a finger along a fuzzy back. The creature let out contented cooing sound, almost a purr. The adults showed no sign of fear at her handling their offspring.
“See? Perfectly harmless.” She looked at Zarie, while trying to ignore the numbing cold spreading down her arm.
“Sashki…” Ruhildi frowned at Saskia’s hand, which was now covered in a thin layer of ice.
Saskia hastily returned the babies to the compartment.
It took some coaxing, but the mer woman returned to her position near the front of the cabin, while the objects of her terror settled in for another snooze. It was to Zarie’s credit that she hadn’t let her spells lapse, despite her obvious panic. While Saskia held the keys to this bony vessel, and Ruhildi kept it ‘alive,’ and gave it general movement orders, it was the tempest who was essentially piloting it with her wind magic.
Even Zarie agreed that since they were close to their destination, they should just continue on with their unexpected passengers. They could figure out what to do with the little critters when they got there.
Peering out through the dragon’s ribcage, Saskia looked over the vast expanse of Grongarg spread out beneath them. Behind wispy streaks of cloud lay craggy mountains and rolling hills, wide prairies and verdant jungles, serpentine rivers and expansive seas.
The largest of these seas covered much of the middle portion of the branch. It was dotted with islands, at least some of which appeared to be populated, if those were indeed buildings and roads she was seeing.
“Skaenwyr Isles,” said Rover Dog, following her gaze. “Home of Waverider Tribes.”
“Trows?” asked Saskia.
Rover Dog tilted his head in the negative. “Aquatic squishies.”
“Mer?”
He nodded.
Zarie’s ears perked up at this. “Those might be the First Mer the legends speak of, yes? My people were said to come to the Arnean Sea from far, far away.”
“Grongarg would certainly qualify as far away,” said Saskia.
Around the edges of the branch jutted a fan of slender, leafless branchlets. Most of these were brown and barren, but one of the larger ones was one covered in greenery, and had what looked like a river running down its length.
Far to the south was a great coiled knot of a mountain range. These mountains dwarfed the ones on Ciendil (no pun intended), and any on Earth. Olympus Mons on Mars might give some of these mountains a run for their money.
“Drackenruck Ranges, in Goldclaw Queendom,” said Rover Dog.
“Queendom?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Are they trows?"
Rover Dog nodded. “Hill trows.”
“Do they have a worldseed?”
He nodded again. “High in Drackenruck rises seed of strength.”
The seed of strength, as Rover Dog described it, did exactly what you’d expect of a worldseed with that name, but with an added wrinkle. Essentially, it turned those born under its influence into what most people outside of Grongarg already thought all trolls to be: creatures with muscles for brains. Lifters, as they were called, formed the worker and warrior castes of Goldclaw society, serving the intelligent, but weaker mundane trolls.
This was the first she’d heard of a worldseed’s magic having a severe negative effect on people. Well…aside from the oracles going bat-guano. And the greenhands being mostly raving donkholes. And the stoneshapers…
Anyhow, the muscle trolls would be about as useful as blocks of wood for the task of sealing the rifts back on Ciendil.
There was no question as to where they’d go first. Near the trunk of the world tree, a dense cluster of spurs jutted out of the clouds like great curved claws. Here, she could see definite signs of habitation; grey-gold structures perched on the rocks and poking out from beneath sunlit treetops.
“Cloudtop Queendom,” said Rover Dog. “Sky trows live there. Interesting people. Beautiful she-trows. I like.”
“Do they have a worldseed that could help us?”
“Not worldseed,” Rover Dog. “Not magic, but much power. Culture. Inventions. Books. Library of Pinnacle best on Grongarg.”
“A trow library?” she said. “Now this I have to see.”
As they swooped toward the tallest of the spurs, she began to make out buildings big and small sprawled across its upper reaches, centred around a large castle. A row of windmills chopped the air atop the highest ridge. Spindly pylons were spaced at regular intervals down the back of the spur, linked by taut ropes or wires. Boxy gondolas hung from the lines, trundling downward at a measured pace.
Saskia’s mouth dropped open, and it only gaped wider as she took in the sight of a bulbous airship rising up from beneath the clouds. It appeared to have giant sails rather than propellers. How that worked, she had no idea. As she understood it, sails on Earth exploited complex interactions between water and air to guide a boat. Without water, it should just drift in whatever direction the wind was blowing. Except that didn’t seem to be happening here.
Maybe they could use these to evacuate the denizens of Ciendil? It might be possible, though it would be very tricky to navigate a sail-powered airship between branches—even close to the trunk where there was air to float on. Too much risk of it drifting out past the edge of the atmosphere.
Regardless, neither the dwarves nor the elves had this level of technology. And yet they thought of trolls as little more than beasts!
Ruhildi and Kveld looked as amazed as she felt. Zarie…well, Zarie clearly had other things on her mind. Her face was creased in concentration as she searched for a good spot to land.
Saskia turned to face her fellow troll. “Rover Dog, I had no idea—”
An unearthly screech tore at her ears. She looked outside in time to see a pair of large, leathery-winged furry forms launch themselves from the castle’s parapets. Sitting astride each of the oversized bats was a hunch-backed figure with long, spindly arms, curled claws and pale grey skin. Each of the sky trolls brandished a crossbow the size of a ballista.
“Crap,” said Saskia. “Shoulda known this would happen. We’ve probably scared the bejeebies out of them. Get us out of here, Zarie!”
The floor lurched beneath them as they banked sharply to the right. Saskia could feel Zarie drawing in essence for a mother of a spell. Black clouds formed in the air behind them, crackling with unreleased potential.
“Try not to hurt them. Let’s not make enemies right off the bat, okay?” Saskia stifled a giggle at her own pun—which, of course, was completely lost on her companions.
“They are trows, yes?” said Zarie. “Lightning will not kill them.”
“Maybe not, but a fall might,” said Saskia. “And I’d rather not kill those things they’re riding, either, if it can be avoided. We only need to outfly them.”
“You make everything so complicated,” said Zarie.
“Aye, that’s our Sashki,” agreed Ruhildi.
The bone dragon shuddered and swerved, and Saskia had to hold onto one of its giant ribs to keep her balance. Kveld grimaced and pointed out his side of the cabin. Rushing to his side, Saskia looked upon a giant crossbow bolt protruding from one of the dragon’s wing bones.
Fortunately, the bolt didn’t seem to affect their ability to stay airborne, and the trolls weren’t going to get any more lucky shots off. Their pursuers fell further and further behind, before finally disappearing behind the cloak of cloud cover.
“Surely those flying creatures could carry a troll between branches,” said Saskia.
Rover Dog tilted his head doubtfully. “Roptirs befuddled without branch beneath. Splat into trunk. Safer to climb.”
Interesting. There must be something about the branch that bat—roptir—brains depended on to orient themselves. Some fantasy equivalent of a magnetic field, perhaps, or the simple visual cue of a horizon to the east and west?
Saskia shivered, wondering how many trolls had made the attempt over the ages. A rare few might have succeeded. After all, there were trolls on Ciendil.
Using her minimap, Saskia guided them through the mist to a nearby sparsely populated spur. Zarie looked about ready to pass out as she landed the dragon in a sheltered little plateau halfway down the steep slope. The tempest was in no condition to do any more flying right now.
“Get some rest, guys,” said Saskia. “We should be fairly hard to spot down here, with the trees and cloud concealing us. I’ll wake you if I see anyone coming.”
The adorribles, who had already gotten plenty of sleep on the way here, emerged from their hidey holes and spilled out of the cabin. Watching them go, Zarie breathed a huge sigh of relief and curled up in the back, fast asleep the moment her head touched the floor. Saskia didn’t have the heart to tell her their little passengers weren’t going far, and would probably be back.
For the next few hours, Saskia stood guard over the others while they slept in the cabin, keeping an eye on her minimap at all times. There were only a few small houses on this spur, and the map markers in and around the buildings were grey, rather than the fiery hues that designated enemies.
At one point, the baby adorribles crept back inside the cabin, trailing icicles. They headed straight for Zarie’s sleeping form, clearly intending mischief. The tempest stirred and made a little mewling sound, as if sensing the impending rude awakening.
Bad floofies!
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Saskia scooped them up before they could close the distance. As she did so, she felt a sharp jolt in her palm; a static shock on steroids. She staggered, and almost dropped them. Depositing the baby murderlings back outside with their parents, she eyed them suspiciously.
“What the hell was that?” she murmured, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t wake the others.
The only reply she received was a row of wide, innocent eyes.
It could have just been static. As if on cue, a sharp gust of air tickled her cheek. Maybe just the wind, but…
No. She knew quite well what she was looking at. These were baby tempests. They didn’t have foci, but they were still capable of some minor magic, apparently.
The shock hadn’t been enough to disrupt her oracle abilities, thank dogs. Just as well, that, or a dry carpet would have been her undoing.
A few hours later, Rover Dog took over from her, so she could get a bit of sleep. He didn’t have her minimap, but he knew this place and the trolls who lived here, so she reluctantly agreed.
When next she woke, darkness had fallen, and it was time to discuss their next move. Zarie and the dwarves wanted to hightail it away from the land of the angry flying trolls, but Saskia wasn’t ready to give up just yet
“I’d like to return to Pinnacle,” she told them. “If we land somewhere out of sight and approach the town on foot, we might get a more welcoming reception. What do you reckon, Rover Dog?”
“Sky trows not fight other trows. Not fight mer. Other squishies…” He titled his head, clearly uncertain.
“I can come with you, yes?” said Zarie. Her eyes were alight with curiosity.
Saskia shook her head. “Sorry, Zarie. Not yet. We’ll need you to stay with the dragon, and act as air support if things get…messy.” At the mer’s crestfallen expression, she added, “You could join us after we’ve scoped the place out—and made sure mer isn’t on the menu.”
Zarie inclined her head in agreement. “I will be ready.”
“Okay, great! Now drop me and Rover Dog off part way down the spur, beneath the cloud cover.”
They were about to take off when the adorribles all hopped back onboard and returned to their containers.
“We can leave them here, yes?” pleaded Zarie.
“In the middle of a trow queendom?” said Saskia. “That would be too cruel. The trows wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Zarie gave a little shudder, but didn’t voice further objections. Saskia gave the mer access to her minimap and darksight, so she could fly in the cloud-shrouded darkness.
“Now you be good, okay?” Saskia quietly told the adorribles as the dragon came in to land about two thirds of the way up the spur. “No zapping Zarie—or anyone else. If I hear you’ve caused trouble, we’ll leave you behind next time.”
The young adorribles looked suitably chagrined, though it was hard to tell if they truly understood her.
Dawn broke shortly after Saskia and Rover Dog set off up the slope. They bounded full-troll through the sparse trees, quickly finding their way onto a wide road beneath the gondola lines.
Emerging from the clouds, they passed several pale-skinned trolls, who paid little attention to them. Only as they neared the town at the crest of the spur did a trio of troll guards step out in front of them, speaking a language she didn’t understand. Rover Dog replied in the same tongue. The guards nodded and returned to their post.
“What did you say to them?” she asked.
“We hill trows, here for trade,” said Rover Dog.
“Hill trows? Is that what we are?”
“I not know,” said Rover Dog. “Hill trows look like us, but thinner skin.”
“Wait, I can see why my race may be a mystery, but what about you?”
“I not know,” he repeated.
She stared at him. “You really don’t know what race of trow you are? How can you not know?”
“I not remember,” said Rover Dog, offering her a trollish shrug.
Bewildered, Saskia shook her head. “That’s…odd. Maybe we’ll find something in our travels that’ll jog your memory.”
“Past not important,” he said.
“I beg to differ. Anyhow, could you speak to me in the sky trow tongue? I need to train my…oracle thing.”
He did so, and by the time they arrived in the outskirts of the town, she was speaking back to him in the same language. It had some similarities to the one he normally spoke, but it had a softer, more sibilant quality.
The first thing that struck her about Pinnacle (the town, not the spur that shared its name) was the sheer scale of it. It was a town of giants. Saskia had spent so much time among dwarves and elves, she’d almost gotten used to their tiny houses and tunnels. But here, even the smallest house would qualify as a dwarven mansion.
Sky trolls were an attractive bunch, as trolls went. Sure, most of them had lumpy white moles and hunched backs and spindly limbs, but they moved like dancers, and they seemed lively and cheerful. The working class wore mostly practical clothing—furs and leathers and close-fitting bodysuits. No dresses or baggy pants or open jackets. Such things didn’t fit well on a troll body, and claws tended to shred such loose, flimsy garments. She’d learned that the hard way. A few troll women wore barely anything at all—just loincloths and straps and bits of jewellery. These looked to be the wealthiest of the bunch, lounging about on the balconies of the most expansive houses.
As they walked the bustling streets, Saskia couldn’t help but notice the looks they were getting—or rather, Rover Dog was getting—particularly from the females. Their expressions betrayed more than mere curiosity.
Saskia gave her troll with benefits an appraising look. Was he that much of a hunk to these people? And maybe not just to these people. She’d found herself drawn to him—physically, at least—long before she finally admitted it and allowed him to…
A familiar flush was creeping across her face. Dogram—I mean—aargh, now he’s got me thinking about that again!
“So where’s the library?” she asked, in a desperate attempt to take her mind off such thoughts.
“Already told you, princess,” he said. “Overlook quarter. Far side of Pinnacle. Near dirigible landing pad.”
“Oh, right,” she said lamely.
They made their way through a wide plaza, filled with intoxicating smells and enticing sights. A male troll danced around a bonfire, nude and glistening with sweat, in front of a watchful throng of females—who immediately turned their eyes to Rover Dog as he strolled past. Sticks of meat and vegetables hung from the rafters of colourful stalls. Her mouth salivated at the sight of a cow-sized beast being turned slowly on a spit over a large cookfire.
Then she saw something that made her lose her appetite. Atop a wide stone platform, two male trolls were having an all-out brawl in front of a cheering crowd; slashing and biting, ripping and tearing. The fight ended abruptly when one of the trolls ripped his opponent’s forearm clean off, holding the gory appendage in the air like a club, and drawing a roar of approval from the onlookers.
Cringing, Saskia averted her gaze.
“Will grow back,” said Rover Dog.
Maybe so, but how quickly? Would he even have arlithite to accelerate his healing? Rover Dog had suggested only royalty had access to the stuff.
As they neared the edge of the plaza, a tall female troll in a see-through bodysuit stepped up to Rover Dog, her lips curled back in clear displeasure. “You dare show face in Pinnacle again!?”
Rover Dog’s gaze flicked down the length of her body, a confused grin etched on his face. “Have we met?”
Snarling, the troll jabbed at his stomach with a clawed hand, just missing him as he stepped nimbly backward. “Have we met!? Have we met!? You made a baby with me. Left without a word. Now you return and do not even remember!?”
Saskia tried to make herself small while the troll raged at a sheepish-looking Rover Dog. Part of her wanted to stick up for her friend. On the other hand, assuming the troll woman wasn’t making it all up, he probably deserved this.
Eventually the troll stormed off, and Rover Dog was left nursing more than a few scratches across his face and body.
Well, it could be worse, thought Saskia. She could have torn off his…arm.
The library was a boxy four-story building near the edge of the spur. Far from the majestic tower of learning she’d imagined, it could nevertheless hold a lot of books.
As they approached the door, a burly male troll stepped out in front of them. “Hill folk?” he said. “What need have you for a library? Can you even read?”
“I can read,” said Rover Dog.
“I will be able to read soon,” said Saskia.
The troll looked at her, confusion etched across his heavy brows.
“I teach prin—mate to read,” said Rover Dog, covering for her. “Library good place for learning.”
“Ah,” said the troll, stepping aside to allow them entry. “That is so. Enlightenment be upon you both.”
Inside the building, Saskia swallowed. Yup, there were a metric frocktonne of books. And this was just the first floor. There were three more like this.
“Any idea where we might find books on magic, worldseeds or arlium?” she asked.
“I ask lore guide,” said Rover Dog.
He approached a female troll sitting on a stool at the back of the chamber, her face deep in a huge tome. Saskia didn’t hear what they said, but the moment the troll laid eyes on him, she was giving him that hungry look Saskia had seen time and time again as they’d made their way through Pinnacle.
A few minutes later, after far too much giggling, the lore guide rose and stretched languorously. She stepped up to Saskia, and spoke in a voice that was surprisingly soft for a troll. “Magic section is this way.”
She led them to the third floor and down a long corridor, into a large room. Every wall—every surface of the room, it seemed, was covered in books and scrolls and sheets of parchment.
Humming softly to herself, the guide sifted through the chaotic stacks, picking out books seemingly at random, and placing them in a neat pile at Saskia’s feet. She seemed to be bending over far more than was strictly necessary, and waggling her butt in Rover Dog’s general direction. When she was done, the troll sent him one last smouldering look, and sashayed down the corridor. A silly grin spread across his face as he watched her go. Saskia had no idea trolls could walk like that.
“Yeesh, could she be any more obvious about it?” said Saskia.
“I not mind,” said Rover Dog, without a hint of shame.
“I bet you don’t,” she muttered, feeling half-amused, half-annoyed. The latter was probably unfair of her. He was, after all, a commitment-free zone. He could do as he pleased, and so could she. Hell, now that there were other trolls to choose from, maybe she would! Still, to see the effect he had on other trolls…it would take some getting used to.
With some apparent effort, Rover Dog turned his attention to the books.
“Read it before,” he said, tossing one of them aside. “Read this too. And this.” He frowned at another one. “Wrote this.”
“Wait…what? You wrote a book?”
He nodded. “I explore. Sometimes I document.”
“Let me see!”
He handed her the book. It was slender, but neatly written. The words were all gibberish to her, of course, having been transcribed in one of the troll languages she hadn’t read before. But after flicking through several other books, her oracle translator took the hint and began to work its magic.
Rover Dog’s book was titled Seeking Eternity. It was an account of a multi-year search for the mythical seed of eternity, a worldseed that was said to bestow eternal life on its children. He and several other trolls had travelled the length of Grongarg, before finally concluding that the seed of eternity had either been destroyed in some long-ago age, or had never existed to begin with.
This, he summarised to her verbally, because she didn’t have time to read the whole book right now. It was an interesting tale—and a fantasinating glimpse into Rover Dog’s life—but even if this so-called seed of eternity did exist, it wouldn’t help them solve their current problem.
Another book dealt with the nature of arlium, its strange temperature-dependent properties, and its relationship to the magic of the worldseeds. This one was too technical for her to understand, but it may relate to the metamagicians they were looking for. She’d have Kveld and Ruhildi take a look at it. Feeling a bit guilty, she gave it to Rover Dog to stow under his vest. They could always bring it back later.
The next book talked about the seed of frost, in southern Grongarg.
“Oh, now this is interesting,” she said, showing the book to Rover Dog. “Could this magic cool the arlium enough to seal the rifts?”
“I not know,” said the troll. “Long ago, I journeyed to seed of frost. Could not get near. All who tried…froze solid.”
“It seems like our best lead so far, though,” she said. “What if someone did find a way?”
The remaining books in the stack dealt with worldseeds Rover Dog had either visited or knew about from other sources. They had little to add. Before leaving the library, Saskia asked her oracle interface to highlight any other books that might be relevant to their search.
It revealed a scroll in another room, written not in the troll tongue, but the language of Old Ulugmir.
“I thought Abellion outlawed the use of this language,” she said.
“This Grongarg, not Ciendil,” said Rover Dog. “Arbordeus influence diminished here.”
The scroll looked like some sort of technical design. For what, she couldn’t say.
“Kveld is gonna have to take a look at this,” she said. “I can’t make head nor tail of it.”
They walked out of the library with books and scrolls safely hidden beneath clothing—and stopped dead. A large contingent of heavily-armed guards stood in a semicircle around the courtyard. Through their ranks stepped a female troll draped in jewellery—and nothing but jewellery. Beneath artfully-arranged strings of pearls and sapphires, her skin had the texture of polished marble—as smooth as Saskia’s had been after she clawed her way out of the deepworm.
“Queen Cloudtop,” said Rover Dog, dropping into a deep bow.
“You remember my title,” said the queen. “That is something, dear Rover. But do you remember my name?”
“How I forget?” said Rover Dog. “Queen’s name is Atka, Jewel of Skies.”
A smile flicked across her lips for the briefest instant. Then it was gone, replaced by an expression of simmering anger. “Then you must also remember the name of my daughter.”
Rover Dog took on a distinct deer-in-headlights look. “Queen has three daughters.”
Queen Atka’s expression darkened further. “You know which daughter you…” Her forehead scrunched up, and she let out three rapid-fire sneezes, echoing like gunshots across the library courtyard. The guards around her tensed, placing hands on the hilts of their scimitars. “Speak, Rover, or to the dungeon with you! What is her name?”
Rover Dog’s eyes darted from side to side, as if seeking a viable escape route. “Princess…”
Saskia tensed, preparing to make a dash for safety.
“…Vask.”
Oh. He wasn’t referring to her, but to an actual princess: Queen Atka’s daughter, Princess Vask.
“Do not play games with me. We both know Vask would never…” The queen’s voice faltered, and her eyes slowly widened. “Her too!?”
Rover Dog’s ears drooped. “I mean Espet. Princess Espet.”
The queen’s eyes blazed with incandescent fury. She opened her mouth to shout at him, but before she could speak, another sneezing fit overtook her.
“Princess Zue…?” said Rover Dog, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
The queen’s mouth snapped shut. Then she opened it again. “Yes! Zue! She bore your princeling, you slithering gutworm! She confessed everything!”
“I…” Rover Dog hesitated for a moment, before seemingly abandoning all pretence. “She not complain. None of them complain. Left happy. Sore, but happy.”
Saskia planted her palm against her forehead.
Queen Atka looked as if she was about to pop a blood vessel. A storm of sneezing overtook her, the likes of which Saskia could scarcely believe. When she could finally speak, the queen’s voice was raspy, her tone shrill. “You…dung-eater! You snuffling goresnout!” She turned to the guards. “Take him to deepest dungeon! And this she-trow slattern too.”
Hey! thought Saskia. What’d I do!?
The guards drew scimitars and stepped forward, eyeing the two of them warily.
Sighing, Saskia opened up a channel to Zarie and Ruhildi. “Uh…we need an extraction from Pinnacle. Like right now. Things are getting…a bit awkward.” She pinged the extraction point on her map.
As one, she and Rover Dog turned and vaulted up the library wall. A giant crossbow bolt thudded into the stone just as she swung herself up onto the roof.
“After them, imbeciles!” shouted the queen to her guards, amidst a torrent of sneezes.
They leapt down the other side and ran down the street, past startled onlookers, toward the airship landing pad. By pure misfortune, a dirigible had landed just moments earlier, and its passengers were disembarking from the small capsule at its base.
It’s going to be tight, thought Saskia. There’s not much room for a dragon right now.
A screech rang out from overhead. Glancing up, she swore, silently. The roptirs and their troll riders were back in the air, and diving toward the two escapees. They ran around the airship capsule, past a line of open-mouthed passengers, just as an enormous bone dragon rose up from the precipice, wingtips crackling as they pounded the air.
A giant crossbow bolt thudded at her feet. Lightning crackled. There was a boom and a wave of heat, almost knocking her flat on her face. The airship’s balloon had turned into fiery bag of death, plunging toward them.
“No time to land!” shouted Saskia. “We’re gonna have to…”
They bounded toward the waiting dragon, which had turned sideways and now hovered at the precipice. Its ribs had lifted, allowing entry. Ruhildi and Kveld gazed back at her with wide eyes.
“…jump!”
She watched as Rover Dog sprang for the opening on the side of the ribcage, timing his leap to coincide with the upward motion of the wing. He managed to grab hold of one of the ribs and swing himself inside.
Then she too was airborne; legs flailing, arms reaching.
The burning wreckage of the airship struck the ground. A second wave of heat swept over her. Flames licked at her feet.
The dragon spun away.
Oh…crap.
Plunging down into the clouds, Saskia caught one last glimpse of the huge fireball billowing skyward, and the bone dragon careening out of control. She let out a strangled laugh.
So that went well.