Gold Dragon (Heritage of Power #5)

A huge wave of water washed over Rysha, and something under the surface clawed her. She screamed in pain and backpedaled in the water, realizing it must have been one of their talons. Her thigh burned, but she kept Dorfindral ready and above the surface in case the male escaped Shulina Arya and came at her again.

Not that it would be easy to see that. The dragons splashed and created huge waves as they wrestled, half in the water and half in the air. Rivulets ran down Rysha’s spectacles, and the waves tugged at the strap holding them on.

Roars and screeches came from the writhing dragons, and she struggled to follow what was happening. The male had been injured—that acid ought to be eating into his scales even in the water—but he was also huge, one of the biggest she’d seen. Would he win by sheer weight and strength of limb?

A huge roar sounded over the surf, and a splash soaked Rysha’s face. A wave carried her upward, and she gaped at the empty ocean all around her. The dragons had both disappeared under the surface.



We are fully operational, Trip thought, projecting the words out for Tolemek and also Zirkander and Sardelle.

He’d been keeping track of Bhrava Saruth and Wolf Squadron as the dragon and the fliers battled near his weapons platform. Trip knew Zirkander hoped he would launch rockets into the enemy dragons and had intentionally led them in this direction. Trip had cringed since he had malfunctioning rocket launchers, and the dragons had stayed too far away for him to simply hurl the weapons with his hands and power. He hadn’t been able to get the first launcher working—it seemed to be missing a crucial part—but he’d run over to the next tower and, with a few tweaks, had gotten that one working.

He’d launched their first test rocket out to sea where Shulina Arya had been battling another gold. Though it had made his head pound, he’d used his power to guide that rocket, ensuring it would strike the enemy and not Shulina Arya and Rysha or another of their allies.

He’d hoped the explosion and the acid would combine to bring the dragon down immediately. It hadn’t, but it had weakened the gold and knocked down its mental defenses. He was tempted to send another rocket out, but Shulina Arya was wrestling with the other dragon, and they had both disappeared below the surface. He hoped Rysha was all right.

Bhrava Saruth, Trip said, sharing the words with the dragon and also Sardelle, go out over the city and join Phelistoth in defending the castle, please. I’m going to fire more rockets, and their natural tendency is to hit the dragon closest to the platform.

His aching head made him wince at the idea of trying to control another one manually.

Sardelle was the one to respond. It’s a tight battle here. Are you sure you want to be without any ally dragons whatsoever? It would be just you and the fliers.

I know, but that means any dragons I aim at are enemies.

I’m letting Ridge know.

“Incoming,” Tolemek yelled from a tower where he was trying to finesse another of the launchers into working.

Trip spun, expecting a dragon, but a flier headed straight for the platform, black plumes of smoke coming from the engine. A soldier gripping a sword hung from a rope swaying back and forth in the air behind the craft. They were coming in too fast. The soldier would be battered senseless if the pilot landed with him dangling back there.

Trip did his best to push aside the throbbing in his head and focus on the soldier—he recognized Colonel Grady’s aura.

When you’re over the platform, cut the rope and let go of your sword, he told the colonel as the flier approached, coming in too quickly for a landing with the thrusters. The pilot—was that Duck?—wasn’t going to attempt a wheeled landing, was he? The platform was large, but not as long as a runway. He would never make it. Trust me, Trip added when Grady didn’t reply. I’ll bring you down easy.

When Grady was over the platform, he slashed the rope attached to his ankle, let go of the sword, and twisted in the air to drop feet-first toward the deck.

Stop the flier, please, Azarwrath, Trip thought as he gathered air under Grady and slowed his fall.

My power is weakened by all this tainted iron, but I’m trying.

Thank you.

As soon as Grady’s feet touched lightly down, Trip turned his attention to the flier. It came bumping and tottering to a stop in front of his tower.

Duck flopped back in the seat, blood running from a gash in his temple. He barely appeared conscious.

Trip jumped to the deck and ran toward him, also checking Grady for injuries. He was limping, his leg throbbing with pain, but he hurried to pick up his chapaharii sword again. He held the blade aloft, his face determined.

“Can you get us back in the air, Trip?” Duck asked, rolling out of the cockpit. His legs almost buckled when he landed.

Plumes of smoke came from the engine. It looked like a mess. Trip had faith that he could fix it, but…

“I don’t have time. Someone has to fire rockets at those dragons.” He waved toward the fliers buzzing past, diving and weaving, trying to simultaneously avoid attacks and bring their sword wielders close enough to cut down their enemies’ shields. “You’ll have to…”

Trip trailed off because one of the gold dragons was heading straight toward him, its maw wide open, flames roiling in the back of its throat.

“Take cover,” he barked to the others.

Trip strode toward the dragon, pulling out Azarwrath.

“Allow me.” Grady lifted a hand and stepped in front of him.

Trip didn’t want to hide behind anyone else, chapaharii blade or not, but he reluctantly acknowledged that he could more easily concentrate on his magic if Grady took the brunt of the attack. He raised a barrier to protect himself and as much of Duck’s flier as he could. Drawing upon his magic again made his headache shift from pounding pain to fierce stabbing pain, and Trip dropped to one knee, panting. Blackness crept into his vision.

Grady glanced over his shoulder at him, but the gold was almost upon them, so Trip waved him forward.

“What’s wrong?” Grady yelled as he crouched, fearless in the face of the flames.

Fire poured from the great creature’s maw as it flew at them, looking like it wanted to incinerate them and the flier. Duck scrambled under the craft to get out of the way. Trip’s barrier wavered under the dragon’s attack, and it felt as if a mallet slammed into the side of his head, but the fire didn’t get through, not to him and not to the flier.

Grady leaped, trying to slash through a dragon toe, or maybe just bring down its defenses, but the creature didn’t get close enough.

As it soared past over their heads, banking to come around for another attack, darkness flirted with Trip’s vision again. He pressed his knuckles to the deck. He couldn’t pass out, not now. His comrades—his friends—needed him. Rysha might need him.

This rocket launcher also needs work, Tolemek sighed into Trip’s mind.

Of course it does. Use the one I was just at. It’s working.

With the dragon out of reach for the moment, Grady spun and touched Trip’s shoulder. “Captain?”

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