“So be it,” the Dragon said. “Wait here, little sister, until I’ve dealt with these gnats.”
He drew himself together; his powerful haunches propelled him upward and his great wings struck the air until, catching a current of wind, he soared high into the smoke-filled sky. Down below, the Duke of Shippening’s army lined up just outside the city, while Fidel’s men marched stoutly forward. It was a pathetic sight, the ragtag troops of Parumvir in the weak advancing position against the larger and more securely stationed men of Shippening. There was no need for the Dragon to become involved. But the furnace was hot in him now.
He rose like a black sun, fire pouring from his gaping mouth, and the army halted. Screams filled the air, both from Parumvir’s men and those of Shippening. King Fidel’s horn sounded again, and the army moved forward once more, but the Dragon’s shadow fell upon their hearts.
The Dragon circled them, a vast vulture, as the fire grew inside him that his black scales glowed red and flames leapt from the corners of his eyes. He opened his mouth, aiming at the front line of soldiers.
But another fire struck him in the face, harmless yet startling. He turned, surprised, in time to see the young dragon hurtling toward him on frantic wings. She collided into him, her talons clawing into his side. His tail whipped around at the impact and lashed her closer to him, and the two fell, grappling together. The Dragon, too taken aback to fight, pushed her away before they hit the ground, and caught himself on an updraft. She, unskilled with her wings, struck the earth and lay dazed.
“Foolish sister!” the Dragon barked, flames shooting out the sides of his mouth and curling over his head as horns. “What insanity was that?”
Una lurched up, breathing heavily. “My father!” she gasped.
“Idiot!” The Dragon spat at her. “I am your Father!”
“No!”
“Yes, dragon!” he cried. “I am your Father. I am your brother, your mother, all your kinfolk now!”
“No!” She leapt into the air again and flew at him. He knocked her aside with a single stroke. The young dragon recovered herself in the air and charged again, spitting fire and sparks. The Dragon caught her in his strong forelegs and bit her neck fiercely. She roared and clawed at him, but he worried her, shaking his head back and forth, then flung her from him. She hit the ground, her wings beating the earth into clouds of dust.
The Dragon settled nearby, slithered up to her, and cuffed her across her face. She rolled away, and he cuffed her a second and a third time.
“There, little sister!” he roared, his fire reddening her scales. “Test my authority, eh? Test it again!”
He lunged at her and tore into her already bleeding neck. The young dragon screamed, blue flames spewing from between her teeth. With strength she did not know she possessed, she broke away and took to the air. This time she fled as fast as her wings could carry her, higher and farther into the sky.
The Dragon raised his head and bellowed a roar that shook the earth for miles. Then he lowered himself on all fours and looked around. The king’s army was in retreat, leaving the land behind calm, black, and deserted.
The Dragon looked over his shoulder and watched the young dragon disappear south into the haze of his smoke. He smiled and licked his lips. “Perfect.”
“To the king! To the king!” Argus cried.
Few listened to him; most of the men fell back in the ranks, running over each other in their haste to flee what they’d already known to be a hopeless battle. The sight of the Dragon had been enough to destroy what courage remained in them, but two dragons were beyond reason. They fled in terror while King Fidel sat on his horse as though frozen in the middle of a sea of running men.
Cursing, Argus spurred his horse forward, cutting through the flood of screaming soldiers until he reached the king’s side. “Sire!” he cried.
Fidel did not answer. Argus grabbed the bridle of the king’s mount and dragged the champing horse over the hill after the routed army. Fidel sagged in his saddle, his face expressionless. They had no sooner passed out of sight of the Duke of Shippening’s army than the king toppled from his saddle and landed heavily in the dirt. Argus reined in his horse, leapt down, and ran back to catch up his king.
“Una,” Fidel moaned as Argus wrapped his arm over his shoulders.
“She’s lost.”
“But you’re not lost yet, sire!” Argus growled through gritted teeth. He barked to a passing lieutenant, “Are there no loyal men left in Parumvir?”
The lieutenant stopped in his flight and called some of his own men back to him. Together, they bore the king from the deserted field.
24
Una burned inside. She wished she would burn to death, but she did not die. She only burned.