Dragon Choir (40 page)

Uighara pulled
a feather from the dragon’s shoulder and a vial from his backpack.
He circled the dragon, dipping the feather in the vial and flicking
the potion on the unconscious terror as he went. Four redeemers
took their positions on the sigils marked around the perimeter and
sung a redemption in unison. The holy song thrummed with power
stronger than any redeemer alone could muster. The deck vibrated
with the force of the sins being extracted from the slaves below.
Screams and moans of pleasure and pain intermingled, a hundred
sinners and a thousand sins purged before the might of the Good
Lord.

Uighara stood
upon the monstrous head of the dragon. He marked the four points of
the black star on himself and sung the song of blessed redemption,
syncopated to his Brothers’ harmony.

Energy surged
from the four redeemers and flowed into Uighara, filling his soul
with holy bliss. The redeemers diligently maintained their song of
redemption, writhing in the contortions of their own sins stripped
bare before the light of the Lord.

Uighara
channelled the energy into his spell, warping the physical laws to
the will of the almighty. The Lord’s hand raised the dragon as he
balanced on its head. Together they floated up like a feather in
the breeze; redeemed souls to the heavens.

The Good Lord
would have his throne returned.

***

Pelegrin didn’t
cheer with his crew as the great beast was brought down and hauled
in. He was occupied enough counting the cost to the armada.
Uighara’s plan had worked perfectly, the High Priest would
doubtless be pleased, as would the Lord, but his father would not.
His central force was trapped in the channels, under siege from the
islands. Pelegrin had sent nine of his best frigates to break the
pirates strangle hold on the northern channels, keeping the rest of
the eastern fleet on guard until the redeemers finished the Lord’s
work on the captured dragon. The central force could hold out as
long as they rationed their magazines.

The brawny red
dragon and the agile black were making short work of the evil ones
protecting the outlaws. He’d heard stories of benevolent dragons of
course, but had never believed them to be more than children’s
tales, until now. After an ear-splitting explosion of magic, the
valiant jet-black fury brought the frightful silver wyrm crashing
down amongst the islands then fought a courageous retreat from the
thorny purple and gold monster loping across the sky. The glossy
red wrestled an immense serpent, churning the sea to a boiling
soup, hot with dragon flames and thrashing violence.

While Uighara
believed these benevolent dragons were guardians of the Lord, and
Pelegrin was grateful for their aid, he observed their presence in
the battle with a lingering nervousness, an anxious brew of natural
fear and awe. The sooner he had Kobb and the Scrambletoes in chains
the better.

“
Any signal from the western contingent?”

The
solargrapher watched the redeemers taking their positions around
the fallen dragon on the barge, oblivious to Pelegrin’s
question.

Pelegrin
clipped his ear. “Pay attention! Anyone would think you’ve never
seen a dragon.”

“
Not like these, sir.”

“
Signal the western force again, as before.”

“
Yes, sir.”

There was no
need.

The lookout
called down from the nest. “Sails!”

Pelegrin held his spyglass to the west. The ships might have
raised false flags, but he knew those figureheads. The pirate fleet
sailed toward them, led by
Juniper
,
Templestone
and
Fearless
.

“
Bastards!”

He couldn’t
mount an attack and leave the redeemers vulnerable now they had
started their rites. The holy chanting charged the air with power.
The barges wailed and groaned like an old ship in a tempest.
Uighara radiated power, floating the massive dragon into the air as
if it was weightless. Pelegrin squinted, preparing for a magical
flash or a clap of power, something that would zap them away, back
to the High Temple. Then he would be free to press the attack.

There was no
magical climax. Uighara and the dragon remained. The screams from
the slaves died down and the four redeemers fell to their knees.
The spell must have failed. The Lord had retracted his
blessing.

The great black dragon swooped in, blistering the
Saint Jan
from stern to
bow with an acidic torrent of destruction. Pelegrin rolled aside,
dodging the noxious attack. He tore off his blue jacket as a
spatter of green liquid sizzled and smoked toward his skin. The
beast swept back over and attacked again; ships all around burned
in a caustic panic.

“
Man the ballista!”

None of his
men were listening. His solargrapher was a wet bubbling mess on the
deck. Chaos ruled his command. Some men screamed, half melted,
others stood in puddles of their own fear, but most were jumping
overboard.

The black came
about in a tight circle and scooped up the levitating dragon and
Uighara, stealing off to the southwest. The red dragon beat its way
out of the sea like a giant water fowl and flew after the black,
scorching a flaming path through any ships in its way.

The armada had no more than fifteen ships that could sail.
Most of his force was dead in the water, including
Saint Jan
. Pelegrin
gripped the rail, watching his defeat approach. He had been so
sure. He was the Lord’s chosen, glory bound to follow his will. Was
this the Lord’s will? Was he cursed to failure at the hands of
these reprobates?

Pelegrin had
shamed his father. He was warned, but Uighara had seduced him with
false promises. How long had he been led on? He was just a pawn in
the Council’s politics, the High Priest and his father wrestling
for power. Uighara was always the High Priest’s man. Together they
had orchestrated his failure and in turn his father’s, stripping
the Lord’s High Admiral of his power over the Council, reducing his
armada to a pittance.

At the same
time they had taken an ancient dragon as sacrifice and secured two
more to defend Jando like the Calimska of old. The High Priest was
a cunning bastard. He would be a saint before the new moon rose.
His father would be on the street begging bone, Lord’s High Admiral
no longer.

Pelegrin was
not going to let that happen. This battle could not be won, but the
next would be different. He would expose the High Priest and
Uighara for what they were; conspirators against the Lord’s will,
treasonous filth to be purged from Jando.

He pried the
solargraph from the officer’s dead hand and savouring the thought
of revenge, he signalled a full retreat.

***

Embedded in trenches
of treasure while cannon balls screamed overhead, Minni called a
squad of rebels to account. “Ease it back! Don’t match them shot
for shot.”

A lump of a
man with a crooked eye chuckled, coating his retort with blood
hungry arrogance. “We’ve enough treasure shot here to fire till
next season. What’s your gripe? Leave off and let us men take care
of it.” This was no man she knew, a fresh recruit; no doubt unaware
of how close he was to a busted lip. The squad leader was quick to
smack him upside his bald head.

Minni gave the
leader a scowl. “Keep your team in line. There’s no more powder to
go around. Ration back your fire; count three of theirs to one of
ours. We still need a reserve if they take to the shore.”

“
Aye, commander,” replied the squad leader, prodding the man
who spoke out of turn.

“
Aye, apologies, ma’am…I didn’t realise you were…”

“
Well, now you do. Seeing you have such a way with words, run
my message down the line.”

The nugget of
a man gulped. “How far?”

“
Till you reach the last cannon. Make sure you speak kindly to
the drakkin now, won’t you.”

With a
crouching run, Minni returned to her own elite squad of archers.
Amber had used her powers to manipulate and fuse the mounds of
treasure into a rough crenelated fort, allowing the marksmen to
harry at the trapped Jandan ships in relative safety. The out of
place structure had become a favoured target, though with every
shot that pounded the glittering fort, Amber was quick to plaster
on another layer of precious metals to repair the damage.

Plumes of
white smoke blew across the field of battle, rising from the
trenches like undead mist and wafting around the war ships like
steam from hot springs, bubbling up from the underworld. Neither
side had a perfect view of the enemy, but by now the Jandans knew
the positions of the rebel cannons and their own ships were dead in
the water, sails shredded and hanging like unkempt weeds on
tombstones.

The death-drum
beat of rebel cannons slowed as her order made its way down the
length of the island. The rigidly timed Jandan broadsides didn’t
falter until high above the clouds of smoke came a warping clap of
power that put lightning to shame, shaking the very treasure under
their feet. A broken star plummeted through the white, a silver
giant torn from the sky. The once thunderous dragon ploughed into
the enemy, splitting a galleon in two with its tail and sending up
a great wave that washed the Jandan ships upon the golden
shore.

Minni’s
stomach rose up and battered her heart like the surge that broke
against the bejewelled fort. “Elrin!” she screamed, vaulting over
the battlements and landing hard. Again she screamed as she ran to
the limp silver behemoth, chasing the receding wave. She called
Elrin’s name until there was no breath left for it.

The silver
dragon was a knotted twist of mangled wings and buckled limbs; her
hindquarters lolling in the water while the rest of her body lay
upon the hoard. Elrin was not astride her back or by her side. He
must have landed in the water and swam to safety. Determined to
find him, Minni turned to scour the shore, but found herself stuck
in the middle of the battlefield, crowded with combatants.

Her screaming
charge across the battlefield had inspired the rebels to follow.
They hurtled down the golden dunes, brandishing weapons like
beacons of freedom, war cries swirling up into the heavens. The
Jandan forces poured out of their washed up ships to meet the
stampede in a final stand. Their cannons were of no use now, only
crooked black fingers pointing at the beach with impotent
accusation.

Arrows flew
from her archers in the fort, glowing arcs charged with Amber’s
creative magic. They burst above the Jandan units with deafening
pops and screamed with shrill intensity where they landed, eroding
the soldiers’ discipline to maintain formation. Minni took up with
a team of rebels in a maddened boil, throwing herself into the
killing, her twin daggers painting red riot across each
opponent.

A bare-chested
man emerged from the shattered corpse of the sinking galleon,
levitating to shore with a cleaver in hand and hundreds of bones
piercing his flesh like a horned demon. A reaper; a brutal redeemer
conditioned for fighting the Lord’s wars. He hacked down one of his
own men from behind and poached the ripe soul, wrenching it from
the dying soldier’s lips. The gold coins around the sacrifice
rattled at the violent extraction and scattered like ripples on a
pond as the reaper cast a fireball at Amber’s fortress. The young
elementalist intercepted the spell with a small ball of treasure,
but the collision exploded molten metal across the field, searing
unfortunate combatants on both sides and curdling the air with
screams. The reaper claimed another sacrifice, then another,
casting and killing, carving a path up the shore to the fort,
wanting only Amber.

Minni
retreated from the front line, drawing her bow and taking several
shots at the determined poacher. The archers in fort concentrated
their fire on him too, but each arrow burned to cinders as it
reached the target. With every victim he claimed, the reaper grew
in strength and the treasure at his feet became more agitated. He
had to be stopped and she would be his assassin.

Casting her
bow aside, Minni sprung into a full sprint, her stilettos nestling
into her hungry grip. She came around and attacked from behind,
intent on the death of the vile leech. A single stride was all that
stood between them when her momentum vanished. Gold and silver
tentacles, a fusion of coins and jewellery entwined with magic,
wrapped around her, tying her arms to her side and rooting her legs
in place.

The reaper
turned on her, his face shimmering and warping with stolen power,
bristling with bones and claws that stitched a graveyard over his
pale skin. “Such a treat that comes rushing to be redeemed.” The
reaper’s hot hand came upon her cheek. She recoiled, but he grabbed
her jaw, forcing her to face him while the battle raged. “Your eyes
are familiar … those lips, just so.”

He leaned in,
pulling a callous kiss that hurled barbs to the pit of her stomach.
Minni spat in his face, furious tears brimming over. “Coward! Free
me and die like the dog you are.”

An elongated
tongue probed the spittle on his face. “Mmm, yes. Just so. My sweet
little Miss Ajharra. You’ve grown sweeter. Sweeter even than your
delicious mother.”

Minni spat at
him again. It was all she could do.

The reaper
wiped his leering face while arrows flamed out harmlessly around
them. “Do you not recognise me? I brought you candies.”

She didn’t.
Why would she want any of their faces as keepsakes? They’d weigh
her to the bottom of the Salroc Sea. Minni wanted to goad the
reaper, but knew once her life was taken, such a man would go on
for Amber. She had to stall him long enough for the girl to get to
safety. “You all brought sweets,” she said, in mock interest.
“Which ones did you bring?”