Dragons vs. Drones (10 page)

Dree knew exactly what Sasha was thinking. And they were in trouble.

“What is this—” he started.

“It's not what it looks like, Sasha,” Dree said, moving toward him. “We just need to borrow the armor. The city is under attack, and we need to stop the drones before—”

He scowled. “Nice try. You're going to sell this on the street. I don't think so, Dree. Tonin!” he called down the hall. “Come here!” Sasha turned back to Dree and smirked.
“Your replacement. He knows how to actually do the job, which is a nice change. Let's go—we're taking you two to Wilhelm. He might take a hand for this.”

Marcus blanched. The boy was huge—they'd never get past him.

“Fine,” Dree said, putting her head down. “Take us.”

Marcus was about to argue that maybe they were giving in a little too easily, when suddenly Dree thrust her knee hard into Sasha's groin, who swore and dropped the pile of swords. Before Sasha could react, Dree punched him across the face, sending him toppling backward to the floor. Dree's fist throbbed as she turned back to Marcus.

“Run!”

Marcus quickly followed her down the hall and back into the blinding daylight, still stunned by her unexpected attack. But Sasha was quick to recover. He and Tonin burst from the forge behind them, both wielding swords, Sasha looking murderous.

“We're heading for the mountains!” Dree shouted to Marcus. “Stay close.”

“Yeah,” Marcus managed, trying to keep up and already feeling his sides burning with cramps. “How far are the mountains?”

“Just run!”

Marcus took a look back and saw that the two barrel-chested boys were closing in. They looked like defensive tackles. He was just turning back to Dree when his left foot hit an exposed edge in the cobblestone. Pain flared through
his big toe and he went flying forward, crashing into the road and skidding along the weathered gray stones.

He groaned and rolled over onto his back.

Dree slid to a halt and turned around, cursing. Sasha was closing in fast, and she remembered his violent temper: He might just cut them both into ribbons without thinking. She sprinted back to Marcus and yanked him up, knowing that she was too late. Sasha was already lifting the broadsword before them. He looked crazed.

Dree was preparing to push Marcus out of the way when Sasha and Tonin abruptly dropped their swords, as an enormous winged shadow fell across the street. Marcus slowly turned around, feeling all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

There, swooping to a landing directly behind them, was Lourdvang.

The heat swept through Marcus again, and he took a step back, raising his hands in terror. The color drained from his cheeks. The dragon was enormous—as big as a two-story house and nothing but black scales and claws and teeth the size of Marcus's forearm.

Lourdvang took up half the street, blocking the sun completely until his huge, membranous wings curled up onto his back. The beggars all disappeared into the shadows, shouting warnings. Marcus was tempted to join them. His knees shook.

Dree looked up in shock. “Lourdvang? What are you doing here?”

“The enemy is returning,” he growled. “You must flee.”

Marcus's fear was momentarily replaced by wonder.
The dragons can speak?

Dree looked at Marcus. “Can he come? He has the armor.”

Lourdvang looked at Marcus and paused, his flashing cobalt eyes narrowing into something almost catlike. His teeth were still exposed, and Marcus had the very distinct sensation that the dragon didn't like him. He took another tiny step backward.

“Lourdvang,” Dree said, sounding like a reprimanding parent.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Hurry up.”

Marcus slipped on his mesh gloves and very hesitantly followed Dree onto the massive dragon's back, using the angled black scales as handholds. Dree sat right at the base of Lourdvang's neck, and Marcus slid behind her, looking around awkwardly for something to grab.

“Around my waist,” she ordered.

Marcus flushed and quickly wrapped his arms around her waist. Her stomach was very hard and lined with muscle, tensing as she gripped the scales and leaned forward.

“Hold on tight,” Dree said.

“Okay,” Marcus murmured, barely trusting himself to speak.

He glanced down at Sasha and Tonin, who were both still looking on in shock, and then saw a group of heavily armed soldiers in black armor turn onto the street ahead, raising their swords and spears and shouting war cries.

“Now!” Dree shouted.

Lourdvang leapt into the air, and Marcus could barely hold on to Dree as Lourdvang's wings unfurled and swept downward, sending them shooting toward the sky. Almost simultaneously, they heard a now familiar noise: the rapid thunder of machine guns. Behind Lourdvang, an arrow point of three white drones swept across the city, firing indiscriminately once again. Lourdvang angled sharply to the east, beating his massive wings faster now, and he had just wheeled off the side street as the machine guns leapt across it, shattering the cobblestone road and gunning down civilians.

Marcus thought he saw Sasha and Tonin go down, and the nausea rose again, but he didn't have much time to think about it. Lourdvang accelerated rapidly, heading toward the waiting mountains. Marcus clutched Dree as the city shrunk away beneath them. They were ascending almost straight up, and Marcus felt like if he let go he might plummet right off the dragon's back. He tightened his grip on Dree's waist.

And then, to his surprise, he felt his lips curl in an unbidden smile.

When Lourdvang was high enough, he opened his great wings fully and glided on the breeze, heading for the mountains that stretched out into the eastern horizon like cresting waves. Marcus shouted in fear as Lourdvang suddenly lost altitude, following the current, and then broke out laughing as Lourdvang dropped again and rose just as sharply, the cold wind beating past Marcus's face. For a moment, he felt completely free. All his awkwardness and clumsiness on the
ground were gone up in the sky, swept away in a graceful dance on the current. Despite the horrors below, Marcus felt more alive than he'd felt in his entire life, and a desperate euphoria swept through him. In that moment, Marcus had a thought that really made no sense at all: Maybe he belonged here, in this world. Maybe he belonged on a dragon.

And then he took a look back.

Behind them, the city was burning. Black smoke was already billowing into the sky from multiple locations, and fires were leaping up everywhere. Another building collapsed, shooting a cloud of dust through the city streets. It was chaos.

Marcus's joy instantly dissolved into guilt and fear. For the moment, the search for his father could wait. . . . He had a new mission.

He was going to find some way to destroy those drones.

Chapter
12

A
s they closed in on the first enormous mountain to the east, its snowcapped peak catching the sun, Marcus loosened his grip on Dree's waist and slid back, giving her more space. They had been pressed tightly together for the past few minutes, warming them against the cold wind. Dree relaxed a little, dropping her shoulders and her guard. No one had ever held her that long, and she wasn't comfortable being touched. It wasn't safe.

Marcus was just as uncomfortable holding her, and he let his hands rest awkwardly on her hips instead. He could still catch her scent on the wind though. It was like the dying embers of his old fireplace—a smoky, comforting scent that reminded him of his father. Despite that, his mind was
preoccupied with another matter. He had realized that there was something strangely
right
about being up in the air. But how was that possible? How was he so comfortable on the back of a dragon?

He felt himself swaying in rhythm with Lourdvang as the dragon swept up and down on the invisible currents, sometimes wheeling in either direction to catch a howling gust and accelerate. Marcus considered the physics of what was happening: the huge membranous wings that tilted by mere inches to elevate or descend, the twenty-foot-long tail angling like a propeller, and the four powerful legs tucked against his broad chest for increased aerodynamics and speed. It was flying in the most natural way possible.

“This is awesome,” Marcus said, shaking his head in wonder.

Dree looked back and smiled. “This is my favorite place in the world.”

She looked different up there. Happy. Marcus flushed again and turned back to the wings, pointing with a black-gloved hand while the other remained loosely on her hip.

“It's amazing how Lourdvang's wings are so flexible,” he called over the wind. “They're almost on fully rotational joints, so he can stop and turn instantly. And the width of them . . . they pick up the current so easily, and he barely has to move them.”

Dree looked at Marcus as he continued, a frown line creeping down between her eyes. Marcus had claimed he
didn't know anything about dragons, but he was describing their flight mechanics very accurately.

“Of course, he must be incredibly heavy with these armor-plated scales, so it still seems almost impossible that he can fly.” Marcus paused. “I wonder if the fire is somehow helping, like a blimp. Either way, I'm guessing even a decent-sized hole in one of those wings would disrupt the entire system. In fact, I doubt he could fly at all if one of his wings was punctured even a foot in diameter. The system is too dependent on a steady, uninterrupted airflow, and he's too heavy to compensate.”

Lourdvang arched his neck and turned back, giving Marcus a suspicious look.

“Who is this . . . boy, Dree?” he asked, sounding a bit threatening.

Marcus shrunk back behind Dree a little. He didn't like those teeth.

“A friend,” Dree said, patting Lourdvang's neck. “We just met.”

Lourdvang snorted and turned back, twin plumes of smoke trailing out of his nostrils. “So he's a stranger. A weird one at that.”

“We're working on his people skills,” Dree whispered to Marcus.

Marcus frowned. “I see. I get the impression he doesn't like me.”

“He doesn't,” Lourdvang confirmed.

Dree sighed. “He's just a little protective. Even though he's
the younger one,” she said, elevating her voice to make sure Lourdvang could hear her. She turned to face Marcus fully.

Dree already knew a lot of what Marcus had described, both from what she observed in Lourdvang and from what she'd been taught at the forge by Master Wilhelm. Understanding how a dragon flew was vital in learning how to bring it down. It was why the metal projectiles in the city's catapults were about a foot around and very sharp—so that they could cut through the wing membranes. It was also why the arrows in the oversized crossbows in the guard towers had jagged barbs and hooks, to tear on their way through the wings.

It was extremely cruel, but it was the only way to bring a dragon down.

“How do you know all that stuff about how dragons fly?”

Marcus shrugged. “It's just basic physics.”

“We learned about the wings in the forge,” she said softly. “When they were teaching us how to kill dragons.”

Lourdvang growled. Marcus felt his entire body vibrate.

“Why would you want to do that?” Marcus asked.

Dree's eyes narrowed. “I didn't. But like I said, hunting dragons is big business these days. We made weapons to kill dragons.”

“Doesn't that seem a little contradictory for you?”

“Yes,” Lourdvang growled.

“I tried to avoid making them,” she explained. “And trust me, I didn't show them half of the weapons I could have created.” She hesitated. “Pretend you didn't hear that.”

Marcus laughed. “Who would I tell?”

The first mountain passed below them, and Dree frowned. She had assumed they would go to Lourdvang's hidden cave to regroup and think of a strategy.

“Where are we going?” Dree called to Lourdvang.

“To see my clan.”

“Is that a good idea?” she asked, her voice a bit shaky.

Dree had never been to the Nightwings' lair, Forost, for obvious reasons. Humans were not welcome there, and Lourdvang wouldn't be either if the Nightwings knew about his friendship with Dree.

Lourdvang snorted. “Probably not. But we have to act. Those machines already hit the mountains and shot down a Nightwing. They have brought the war to us, which is why I came to find you. Things have changed.”

They were flying along the edge of the mountains, and Marcus saw some scattered towns and farmhouses in the sprawling plains to the right, tucked into the valley and lined with roads and wheat fields and ambling carts. It was a beautiful place . . . serene and brimming with life.

“Are there cities out there?” He looked out to where sky met earth in the distance.

“Yes,” Dree said. “Dracone is the capitol of Errenia, our state. It's the greatest city. But there are smaller ones in Errenia, and outside of that, only the dragons know. We don't leave Errenia.”

“A wise choice,” Lourdvang said. “I have flown over other lands. Dragons live there, and so do other creatures . . . dangerous ones. Just hope you never find yourself there.”

“So what are we going to do?” Marcus asked, as Lourdvang started angling into the mountain range, his wings adjusting to the current to send them into a graceful turn.

“Dree and I are going to try to convince my clan to fight with us,” Lourdvang said. “If the Nightwings agree to attack the machines, we may have a chance.
You
are going to stand there quietly and try not to be eaten.”

“Their wings will be very vulnerable to bullets,” Marcus warned.

“We know how to fight,” Lourdvang rumbled. “We use our bodies to shield our wings. I doubt their weapons can pierce my scales.”

Marcus considered that. “They could be armor piercing.” He slipped one of his gloves off and went to touch the scales beside him. “What are they made out of—”

Dree quickly grabbed his arm. “Don't touch!” she snapped. “They're very hot. Why do you think we stole you that armor?”

She released his hand and turned away. Her father had told her once that humans used to burn themselves constantly on dragon scales when the two species were friends. The fact that Dree could touch them without gloves or armor was just another sign of the fire within her. Even her father didn't have that ability. He had always worn armor.

“Why doesn't it burn you?” Marcus asked.

Dree hesitated. “It just doesn't.”

Marcus knew he should listen to Dree's warning, but he couldn't resist. As soon as she turned away from him, he
quickly touched the scales. They felt warm, but they certainly weren't scalding. Making sure Dree wasn't watching, he laid his right hand fully on Lourdvang's back, feeling the warmth spill into his fingers. Dree glanced at him.

Her eyes widened. “How are you doing that?”

“It's not even hot,” he said, showing Dree his hand. “See?”

Dree took Marcus's hand, examining every inch of it. His fingers should have been covered in painful blisters, yet they were completely smooth. She slowly ran her thumb across his palm, wondering why it wasn't even the slightest bit burned.

Dree suddenly realized what she was doing and dropped his hand, spotting the awkward look on Marcus's face.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I've just never met anyone else who can do that.”

Marcus shrugged. “Does that mean I can take this armor off?”

“I would keep it on if I were you,” Lourdvang grumbled, as they started a rapid descent toward a huge, stout mountain so pockmarked with caves that it looked like a beehive. The top was marked with a shallow cap of white snow, and a few straggly trees and shrubs lined the steep, rocky slopes. Far below, a river cut through the valley.

“What is this place?” Marcus shouted.

“Forost—the home of the Nightwings,” Dree said. “And they don't like humans.”

Lourdvang swept onto an exposed ledge, landing with a
final flap of his wings and settling gracefully onto the stone. Marcus saw eyes watching them from many of the dark caves, and they had just climbed off Lourdvang's back when two black dragons emerged from a large opening ahead, smoke already curling from their mouths.

“What is this?” one of them, a burly dragon with a thick midsection, rumbled. “Do you ask for death?”

Lourdvang stepped in the way. “I would like to speak with Erdath.”

The two dragons scoffed.

“Even he won't forgive you for this, Lourdvang,” the first dragon said. “He has cut you enough slack already. You will face exile for this. Hopefully death.”

Marcus scanned the mountainside but saw no way they could escape. They were way too exposed out on the ledge, hundreds of feet above the valley. If the Nightwings attacked them, they would most certainly die.

Lourdvang snarled and stepped toward the two dragons.

“Try it,” he said, baring his teeth.

The two dragons prepared to launch themselves, and Marcus was just about to grab Dree and dive onto the ground when a third dragon emerged from the darkness.

“Control yourselves,” the new dragon said, his deep voice rumbling the entire mountain. The dragon's skin was a steely onyx, and he was seemingly older than the others, with a wrinkled face and scars and pockmarks on his scales. But though he may have looked older, his eyes—as green as the valley below, with slitlike pupils—were sharp and cunning.

“Erdath,” Lourdvang said, “I have brought these humans because they too are under attack, and they know more about these machines than we do. They can help us.”

Erdath's eyes fell on Dree and Marcus. Dree fidgeted, wondering if the elder would agree to hear them out. If he didn't, they were dead.

Finally, Erdath nodded and turned back to the cavern.

“You may enter. And for all our sakes, I hope Lourdvang is right.”