She blinked away tears and wrapped her hand around Dorfindral’s hilt. If that silver dragon had done anything to her parents or her brothers, she would shove the sword down its gullet until it came out the other end.
They flew over the highway where a few people on horseback had stopped to gawk at the smoke. Rysha scowled down at them, wondering what useless neighbors or passersby weren’t going to help, but she couldn’t make out their features from this high up.
As she and Shulina Arya neared the lake, Rysha could make out the source of the smoke. The vineyards behind the house next to the orchards, the orchards that had already been ravaged by a gold dragon’s flames. Indignation flared within her. That couldn’t be an accident. Someone—or some dragon—had deliberately chosen valuable plants, not random flora. But was it the silver? Silvers couldn’t even breathe fire.
It was the silver, Shulina Arya said. I sense him. He senses me and is fleeing. The coward.
How did he light the vineyards on fire?
He could have done it with his mind.
They flew over the manor, and Rysha glimpsed people outside, running to collect water from the lake to try and put out the flames. She doubted they would be able to save the vineyard. Her brother’s passion, the source of the wine he made, was in danger of total destruction.
She shook her head, again wondering why her family was being picked on by dragons.
Rysha? Trip asked, though his flier had fallen far behind.
Yes?
One of the men gathered on the road is Lord Lockvale.
Rysha caught herself growling like an enraged tiger.
I find that suspicious, Trip added.
I find it more than suspicious. Can you go down there and… And what, she asked herself. Capture him? Interrogate him? Trip couldn’t do any of those things to a nobleman—or anyone who wasn’t a known Iskandian criminal. Question him, she finished, hoping he could get telepathic answers that would be more accurate than anything that came out of Lockvale’s mouth.
Trip hesitated, but only for a second before saying, Yes.
We’ll be there as soon as we can.
The laws were still such that Trip would get into extra trouble for punching a nobleman—not that she expected him to do that—but Rysha could likely get away with it.
The silver is leading us toward the foothills, Shulina Arya said. Is that still part of your territory?
Yes, Rysha said, not wanting to explain inheritances and that her father and her uncle were the owners of the land, not she.
There may be caves back there that he’s been hiding in, dampening his aura so that other dragons would not sense him.
Below, the terrain grew rockier and full of small canyons and gullies as the Ice Blades loomed closer to the east. For the first time, Rysha glimpsed the silver dragon flying ahead of them, a dark winged shape weaving through the treetops. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the land fully in shadow.
Rysha could feel Shulina Arya’s powerful muscles putting forth more effort as she tried to catch up, and she appreciated it. The silver dragon dipped behind a copse of evergreens and didn’t come into sight again.
He’s flown into a gully, Shulina Arya said, veering toward that copse.
Could it be a trap?
Shulina Arya’s nostrils flared, as if the scent of her prey filled them, and she didn’t answer. If anything, she flew faster.
Rysha drew Dorfindral.
The gully was thick with vegetation, and rabbits and birds scurried for safety as Shulina Arya flapped past. At the end, a black hole marked a cave entrance, and they glimpsed the silver tucking his wings close to fly inside.
Oh, it’s definitely a trap, Shulina Arya said. He’s been trying to make me believe he’s injured, attempting to fool me with illusions, and now I’m getting an image of him hunkering inside, ready to turn and fight with his back to the wall. But I also sense hairline cracks in the rocks. He’s made it so they’re poised to fall. As if a rockfall would trap a gold dragon. He’s also created an exit in the back of the cave, a way that he can slip out. The hole is covered with foliage.
Despite her analysis of the trap, Shulina Arya arrowed straight toward that front cave entrance. Rysha eyed it warily, knowing that Dorfindral couldn’t protect her from physical attacks, such as rockfalls.
But Shulina Arya flew upward at the last second. Instead of going into the cave, she landed on the boulders above it. A great cracking and snapping came from below, and the ground quaked. Then it shifted as tons and tons of rocks collapsed downward.
Shulina Arya flapped her wings to hover above the cave instead of standing on it. Pulverized rock and dust flew up, the earthy scent tickling Rysha’s nostrils. A roar of distress came from the cave—or what was left of it.
How do you like being the one smashed? Shulina Arya cried.
The rocks stopped shifting, and the dust settled. Rysha had no way of sensing what was below them, whether the silver was still alive, if any of the cave remained, or if the dragon had been squashed.
He’s still alive, Shulina Arya said, the words quieter in Rysha’s mind. He’s pretending to be injured and buried alive, perhaps dying, but I am not fooled. I grew up being taught by crafty bronzes. I know all the ways of dragon trickery. I believe he will realize we are not leaving, and then he’ll throw off the rocks and try to flee. We’ll be here, ready to pounce.
Rysha was about to ask how long they would likely have to wait—she worried about Trip and the task she’d given him—but then the rocks shifted alarmingly. Numerous boulders flew into the air all at once.
Some would have struck Shulina Arya, but she had a barrier up, so they bounced off. Rysha glimpsed dusty silver scales as more boulders shifted.
Do not think you can take this land from me, a voice roared in Rysha’s mind.
Ah, excellent, Shulina Arya thought. He is going to fight.
Chatter sounded over the communication crystal as Trip brought his flier down on the highway not far from the group of men staring at Rysha’s smoking land. To his surprise, he heard General Zirkander’s voice and those of several Wolf Squadron members.
“Don’t shoot yet,” Zirkander said. “Hold steady. Blazer, you need to get Therrik closer so he can swing that letter opener.”
“I’d be happy to, sir, if his heavy ass wasn’t weighing down the back of the flier and slowing us down.”
“It’s not my ass that’s heavy, Major,” Therrik growled.
“Sir? This is Captain Ahn. I’m with Trip twenty-five miles south of the capital. We’re returning from our mission.”
“Come on up to the city, Ahn. We’ve got some fun for you to join in on.”
Trip winced at the confirmation that whatever battle they were fighting was happening in the sky over the capital. He thought of his little siblings in different houses throughout the city, of how their surrogate mothers weren’t mages and had no way to protect them from magic.