I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2) Marc Secchia (most read books .TXT) 📖

Clouded judgement might better be described as the sensation of being the only male Dragon amongst a Dragonwing of forty, flying alongside and behind the beauty whose every wing flexion made his hearts turn rapturous somersaults. Close enough. Maybe less poetic, but the effect was no less devastating. He occasionally found the patterns and movement so hypnotic he had to look elsewhere for a moment, or he might have flown headlong into a mountainside without even knowing what had hit him.

Clouded also described the weather, which was for the better. Cover for nefarious deeds. Localised storm? He scented moisture and stronger winds pushing at the ever-restless oceans.

The Dragons split up as planned. Two hours after midnight, Aria led her smaller battle group out over a rocky isthmus and around via a coastline that once again, on the eastern edge of an island, was a jag-toothed Dragon lying in wait for the unwary. Up here rocky teeth bit the sky with savage intent, while deep cracks and canyons abounded. Some were inlets for the ocean. The single access road – one used the word with a wince – visible a mile to the interior, was a white-paved, torturous failure to tame the wild landscape.

Carts just gave up out here. For the last twenty miles, Lord Gazaram had donkeys haul his goods up to his citadel.

The castle, home to the crustiest, most infamously bad-tempered Lord in the Archipelago, certainly made a statement. It stood upon a solitary island just off the mainland, reached by a well-defended bridge, surrounded on all sides by water. Not only were the black battlements windswept and rugged, some thoughtful designer had decorated them with spikes and busts of traditional island creatures – all the friendly sorts, like spitting sea serpents, spiny urchins, barracuda, stonefish and poisonous corals, to name those Dragon could recognise through his spectacles.

Sure looks like the architectural equivalent of an angry porcupine, he grumbled as they swept in low along the coastline, hugging the shore for cover.

Glasses? Aria raised her brow ridges.

They help me to see. I’m good underwater, I’ve discovered. Useless above it.

What’s the exact issue? she asked.

I’m pretty badly short-sighted. Everything’s blurry from about the length I can hold my paw in front of me. I was sort of hoping that once I discovered my true fires, this debility would … go away. He smiled wryly. Azania has many times been my eyes in battle.

I see.

Me, not so well.

She chuckled softly, And here I thought you were just fluttering your eye membranes at me. We never spoke about the details before, did we? Not apart from your need to consult an optometrist regarding your severe conjunctivitis – how’s that been?

Actually, I haven’t thought about it in weeks.

Azania said, I wonder if the regular immersion in salt water is helping? You’re right, Dragon. You’ve stopped itching. However, your sight is still worst when you’re tired.

Her perceptiveness still had cause to surprise him. He nodded. Aye, that’s right.

The Cobalt Dragoness said, Alright. So, that’s the main fortress. You’ll enjoy Gazaram’s favourite iron tower. It’s something else.

Just as tasteful? Majoring on the ‘evil overlord’ décor and cladding only a self-respecting executioner would be proud of?

Dragon! Azania snorted.

Well, clearly some men like to wear their dungeons inside out.

Aria stared at him as if he were mad.

The strike team drifted along past the fortress. One last, very tall sea stack stood at the far end, separated from the main castle by another short bridge. What a miserable, eerie place. He squinted into the darkness. The stone stack, some eighty Dragon paces tall, almost completely surrounded a sheer metal tower which had been built inside what he took for a dormant volcanic pipe. Only the top twenty feet or so surmounted the encircling stone. Those twenty feet were as heavily armoured as he had ever seen. Narrow slits for ballistae. Thick metal. An air of foul magic, the cawing of crows about the place as if they had been attracted here by carrion. The magical and other echoes around this place made him shudder.

Below, the Human-sized entryway was a barred metal gate set between two imbedded gatehouses. A couple of vertical cracks in the stone showed that the metal tower inside was smooth and unrelieved, with almost no space for any Dragon to manoeuver around it.

Impregnable? And then some.

His scales prickled. That sense of dark magic, that focussed intent … he bellowed at once, Evasive action!

A hail of ballista quarrels hissed out of the darkness. Had they not been forewarned, the flight of ten Dragons would have been cut out of the sky. As befitting the largest target, he now wore two shots in his left shoulder. The others hit did not fare as well. One Ranger died instantly as a shot pierced his chest, and one green Dragoness tumbled toward the waves.

He dived at once. More quarrels whipped through the darkness. Where were they even firing from? How were they so accurate?

Split up! Execute the plan! Aria roared.

Rescuing one of their number was far from the letter of the plan, but a couple more holes in his hide would only add to his long list of aches and pains. Extending his talons, he gripped the Dragoness by the shoulders and dragged her bodily sideways through the air, ending up beneath the bridge between the mainland and the castle. Unconscious? Draping her atop a flattish rock, he heard Azania unbuckle. She jumped down and put her ear against the Dragoness’ throat.

“No heartbeat!”

Stopped her hearts? What magic was that?

At once, he pushed her over onto side and raised his fist. Thump! Thump! “Check her.”

“Nothing.”

He hit again, twice and then three times, to no avail.

Thump! The Princess added her own, fists-doubled punch. She listened again. “There it goes!” Azania mopped her forehead.

The Sankir